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sweetfwr · 5 days ago

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ENHA AS LOVE ISLAND CONTESTANTS ˒˒ ot7

⚠︎ making out, suggestive content, profanity, NOT PROOFREAD

𓇼 LEE HEESEUNG

the successful redemption arc

one of the og 4 boys for sure.

chill and laid back, but also 100% a loser trapped in a hot body. he becomes a favorite inside and outside the villa immediately !! he has a natural charm that has girls flocking to him.

being one of the 4 original girls, you couple up early on.

unlike the other villa couples, you two are surprisingly very mature. your little misunderstandings are gone in a snap because you talk them out properly.

fans live for your relationship because you don’t rush into physical intimacy either.

the king of casual touchiness. there’s always a hand on your shoulder or playing with your hair, but he never oversteps.

that is, until you outright tell him to. he’s very happy to do more if that’s what you want.

honestly so charming & endearing! a clip of him singing in the kitchens while making you a morning coffee goes viral because of his crazy vocals.

you share a kiss with another guy during a challenge? nope, not your fault. not one bit. he’s teasing you about it once the challenge is over, but not without a sly remark of how he could’ve done better.

you bet he’s kissing you silly under the covers that night as PROOF 💔💔

he’s never not with jay either, and it only makes him SO MUCH more appealing to the fans. they become the most unproblematic dynamic duo in the villa.

when casa comes around, he goes into it fully intending to be loyal to you.

he has you sneak out with him for a late night dip in the pool the night before as well.

you’re bringing up your worries about casa? “no one’s turning my head, alright? i’ve already got everything i need right here.”

you pull him in, and it’s your first full-blown (visible) kiss on screen. fans are SWOONING

until they’re not.

enter casa girl: witty, lowkey, charming, and a shared love for music with your man.

he tries to distance himself at first, he really does! but he ultimately ends up folding:( they share a kiss under the stars.

when the episode airs, heeseung becomes public enemy numbers 1.

he brings the girl back to the villa, and you immediately notice something’s off.

movie night happens the same day, and guess what?

their kiss is aired for everyone to see.

tears fall, sandals fly, the villa is in outrage. even sunghoon, who’s more quiet and reserved has his jaw dropping at the sight. sunoo gasps loudly.

you storm out, and heeseung is right behind you, desperately trying to explain himself.

your fight on the docks makes love island history. it’s raw, emotional, and fans have never seen you and him as torn as you are then.

“damn… that’s what she gets for trusting a man. 🥀”

absolutely spends the rest of the show trying to win you back.

immediately, the casa girl is out of the picture. he pulls you for a chat on the day beds and takes full accountability for his actions.

no excuses, no blaming his temptation. “you gave me something real, and it scared me. that’s something i need to work on, not you.”

it’s actually kinda respectable…? still, you’re not ready to forgive him.

heeseung gives you space, careful to not be too pushy. he, however, remains consistent with his actions.

little things like his longing looks from across the room, defending you when another villa girl starts getting catty, the way he talks about you to the other guys, the way he doesn’t look at the casa girl anymore despite sharing the same bed.

he doesn’t do it for show. if anything, he’s silently yearning.

it’s clear his heart is yours! the fans notice, and edits of his redemption arc begin to go viral. you notice as well, lol.

eventually, you get back together. except now, its on your terms.

that’s not to say you won’t pie him in the face during a challenge. you do.

heeseung takes it like a champ! he’s jumping for joy and smiling the entire day after because you’re finally his again.

he even… starts to call the other guys out on their shady behavior?

becomes somewhat of a source of advice for the other boys nearing the end of the show, considering he’s the oldest.

gradually, he gains back all his respect and locks it TF in during his final speech. you’re in tears by the end of it.

you finish the show as fourth placers. fans remember you for years to come as the most satisfying redemption arc on the show!

𓇼 PARK JONGSEONG

the man of everyone’s dreams

oh lord… this man is constantly going viral because he’s a walking meme.

jay’s “resentment, anger, shame…” confessional made in PURE disappointment goes viral after heeseung’s slip up at movie night.

his very shirtless part in the show’s intro where production had you all dancing and lip-syncing in bathing suits goes the most viral out of every islander.

and rightfully so!!

sexy af. you can’t explain it, but he has an aura to him that makes you feel secure whenever you pull each other for a chat.

naturally, you couple up early on.

your man is the voice of reason within the villa while making you a smashing breakfast every morning without fail.

you guys are the IT couple in the villa! both og contestants and absolutely killing every challenge.

similar to heeseung, challenges don’t really get in between the two of you. this man KNOWS how to keep his jealousy at bay while reminding himself you aren’t officially closed off yet.

you want to explore other connections?

jay becomes “she knows where home is” final boss.

also, is the #1 contestant that everyone is absolutely sure does not gaf about that 100k. even if you guys end up winning the prize money, best believe it’s all yours. 😭

another insanely popular guy outside the villa because he’s incredibly stable compared to the other boys, not to mention unintentionally funny.

when a fight breaks out in front of yall during the heart rate challenge, the scene cuts to a confessional where he just stares into the camera in disappointment.

fans absolutely eat it up.

takes selfies exactly like a facebook mom would when production tells him to take pictures for the love island socials. they go viral every time.

during nights in the villa, best believe jay never sleeps without his eye mask on. he sleeps flat on his back with his arms at his side too. it freaks you out.

this man sleeps like a damn log too. when you wake up, jay is still sleeping in the same fuckass position.

generally one of the most unproblematic guys in the villa. no one even dares to pick a fight.

this man TRULY shines during the baby challenge. everyone wakes up to fake babies crying at the foot of their beds? he doesn’t even question it. he’s a father now.

this man will have a fake baby on his hip while making breakfast for 5 different islanders.

you guys win the challenge.

speaking of challenges, he absolutely eats it up when you come out dressed in a cowgirl costume for one of them.

can’t keep his hands off of you the rest of the night. you’re even posted up on his lap during a confessional. he just smiles shamelessly. 😭

admittedly, when casa comes along he’s ALMOST tempted.

i mean what woman wouldn’t want a piece of this man?? still, he’s quick to put a stop to advances with a firm hand on their shoulder and a serious reminder that he’s taken.

(he’s not, because you STILL haven’t closed off. not that he cares.)

in the end, you guys make it to the final four!

has a hand on his chest when you walk out in your finale dress like you’re about to get married.

you have your final date on a beautiful night out on a yacht where you finally tell him you want to close off. he kisses you under the fireworks like he’s been waiting for this moment since the day he laid eyes on you.

spoiler alert: he has.

you guys end up being the runner-ups of your season! 🥈

𓇼 SIM JAEYUN

the casa boy who wins your heart

can’t see him as anything other than the casa boy who steals you away from your man in the villa tbh.

the story goes like this: you’ve had your eyes on villa boy from the start. you enter as a bombshell, take him from his girl, and end up in a solid couple.

happily ever after, right?

wrong.

your villa couple is a whirlwind of a romance. you’re locked in from the start. you guys and the viewers are absolutely convinced you’re making it to the finals. basically, you’re frontrunners to win.

your couple is everything you want in a man. kind, funny, and exactly your type on paper.

but… there’s no spark. and you’re even less interested in everyone else in the villa. little by little, your ‘solid’ couple starts to form invisible cracks.

still, when casa amor comes along you go into it fully intending to stay loyal to your couple.

enter jake, the casa amor boy who fully intends to steal you from your couple.

his tv intro goes something like— “yeah i know i’m a player. 😎 it’s LOVE island. i’m here to explore, not lock in on one girl on the first day.”

eats his words btw.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think he was cute from the get go. one look at his puppy eyes and the way the pool water trickles down his toned body, and you’re swooning. just the right amount to make you think this is it—this is who i’ll stick with until i get back to the villa.

you sit him down on your new bed after the first coupling in casa, and to the viewer’s surprise, you’re straight up with him:

“i have someone waiting for me back in the villa… and i’d be lying if i said i didn’t want to explore that connection when i’m out of here.” you tell him softly. the public appreciates your honesty! problem is, your thumb is rubbing circles over his knuckles and all jake can hear is ble ble bla bla.

to say he’s obsessed with you from the get go is an understatement. shocking everyone further, he agrees to your little arrangement. you’ll couple up and get back to the villa where you can get back to your man and jake can explore other connections too. easy peasy.

just because he agreed to basically give you a free ticket to get back to your man doesn’t mean he won’t make your time in the villa the most magical few days of your summer.

absolutely whipped.

jake knows you prefer hot chocolate to coffee. he knows you’re too tired to brush your hair at night, so he does it for you before you head to sleep. he knows all about your beef with one of the villa girls, so he defends your name when she thinks you’re not around to do it.

slowly but surely, he fills in whatever the boy back in the villa couldn’t.

convinces himself you’ll both return to the villa and explore other connections, but follows you around with stars in his eyes while being absolutely convinced you’re meant for each other. how that work? 😭

tweets of his intro with the caption “all men do is lie” are EVERYWHERE. bro is not the player he thinks he is…

speaking of his lies, this man will. not. kiss. a girl that isn’t you, even during challenges. he says it’s out of respect. everyone looks at him weird.

you notice. of course you do. still, your head is still at the boy back in the villa.

or at least, you think it is.

during your last night in casa, another one of the casa boys lets it slip that jake is waiting for you up on the rooftop. your heart drops. you don’t know if it’s in guilt or anticipation.

when you head up there, you can’t believe your eyes.

jake, mr. self-proclaimed player, somehow managed to set up a romantic date outside the plans of production. it’s complete with lit candles, a beautiful fort under the stars, and a meal he cooked himself.

against your better judgement, you’re touched, and you’re feeling things your original couple never made you feel.

“i thought we agreed to explore other connections?” “what, i can’t make a nice dinner for my friend?”

you lock eyes, and you can’t help but notice the way jake looks like he wants to say something else. in that moment, everything else melts away and you do the unthinkable.

you kiss him.

jake spends no time kissing you back, hands wrapping around your waist and sighing contentedly like he’s been yearning for this. (he has.)

you head to bed all smiley and giddy, and you wake up next morning like you’re headed to war. 😭

fans are pretty divided, you and jake’s connection becomes one of the most highly debated ones on the show.

“she a woman in male fields fr…” “i KNOW she didn’t just do that while xxx is waiting for her back in the villa.” “idc she and jake are literally meant to be.” “they are my winners fr.”

once you get back to the villa, everything is sunshine and rainbows. you couple up with your og man and he finds himself with one of the casa girls. everyone’s happy!

until they’re not.

you’re honest with your original couple about the kiss. it was one night and you were consumed by how genuine jake’s gesture was. he’s hurt, but he thanks you for telling the truth.

jake on the other hand, doesn’t even PRETEND to like his new couple. 😭

you feel longing looks from across the villa whenever you talk to your couple.

one of his confessionals go: “yeah so remember when i said i wouldn’t lock in with a girl from day one…? i want her back. haha.”

you have a surprisingly solid fanbase who YEARN for the casa days to come back. they refer to it as your golden era.

back in the villa, things just aren’t the same. you’re finally back with the boy you’ve wanted since your first day on the show, but you just can’t help but miss the way jake makes hot chocolate. the way he’d take a brush to your hair without asking. the feeling of his lips on yours.

one night, you toss and turn in your bed but you can’t sleep. in one of the most shocking moments of your season, you slip out of your shared bed and head to jake’s to pull him out for a chat.

he’s still rubbing his eyes, but his other hand is already wrapped around yours as he lets you drag him out without question.

you end up confessing to him that night, and you kiss again on the beach under the light of the moon. your little moment goes viral as one of the best love island confessions in history!!

but come the heart rate challenge, all hell breaks loose.

no absolutely no one outside the villas surprise, you and jake raise each other’s heart rate the most. inside the villa, however? the islanders are REELING. your respective couples feel betrayed.

eventually, you’re both dumped from the island in a surprise dumping thanks to the other islander’s votes 💔

you get to leave together, tho!! win-win!!

𓇼 PARK SUNGHOON

the bombshell only you didn’t want

oh he’s DEFINITELY a bombshell. just not in the way you’d expect.

walks in during a challenge as the villa’s hottest new bombshell. his aura is CRAZY and he’s hyped up endlessly on social media for his amazing visuals.

everybody wants a piece of him, until…

they realize this man has no chat whatsoever. affectionately, that’s just who he is. 💔

has his clarke moment: “can i pull you for a chat?” “yeah sure.” “so what’s your favorite color?” “black. 😐”

the girls aren’t quite sure what to do with him. the rest of the guys are a little jealous of him. he’s not very loved inside the villa at first. :(

you prefer to stay away from him because one: you’re already in a steady couple with one of the other villa guys and two: he’s too cold and uncaring for your liking.

there are betting pools online for how long he’ll last in the villa because he doesn’t have a clear connection with anyone or appear to be interested in anyone either.

cue the comments: “mann he’s just too hot for the villa.” “i’d really like for him to stay longer tho :(” “idc when he gets out im all his.”

then comes the most DRAMATIC recoupling of the show. this time, the boys get to choose.

thing is, no one’s really sure who sunghoon is going to choose because he’s a closed book. literally anything can happen.

it doesn’t help that he’s talked to almost every girl in the villa at least once during his short stay either.

he’s one of the first to pick. and in one of the most shocking twists of your season…

HE CHOOSES YOU?!!? the ONE girl he’s never spoken to who happens to be in most solid couple in the villa.

ouhhh jaws are dropped at the recoupling. your man is fuming. you aren’t happy either. even the host is at a loss for words. sunghoon looks pleased with himself.

literally no one could have predicted this.

he cracks a smile for one of the first times ever in the villa, and a shot of him smiling endearingly at nothing while you sit beside him fuming at the recoupling has watchers cackling.

you’re confused. fans are confused. he’s never shown an inkling of interest in you, at least not outwardly.

to say your couple started of rocky is… an understatement.

the plan was to ditch him at the next recoupling and get your man back. then, boom! happily ever after.

all you had to do was survive the rest of this cursed coupling.

until you’re not sure if you can anymore.

you’re loud, intense, and fiery. he’s the complete opposite. so why does sharing a bed and sleeping back-to-back feel more intense than it should…?

he never even touches you, and the air feels hotter. must be climate change.

surprisingly, sunghoon in a couple is annoyingly polite. you never even have to tell him to be. it’s like he’s fully aware you’re not so fond of him, but he does everything in his power to prove his interest in you that doesn’t involve saying it out loud.

doors are always opened for you. he down right refuses to kiss anyone who isn’t you during challenges. the last piece of apple slices are always reserved for you. breakfast is always on your makeup area before you’re even up and out of bed. (he had jay help him.)

you have to kiss during a challenge and you’re ready to just give him a peck and get this shit over with. however, he’s pulling you in with a gentle hold on your face like he’s been WAITING for this moment. 😭🙏

you’re still very much in contact with your original couple, but sunghoon doesn’t seem to be rattled by it at all. it makes you think he just coupled up with you to stay on the show. you almost want him to care, and you have no idea why.

you get fed up one day and ask him almost angrily: “why are you so nice to me?!”

sunghoon gives you a side eye like you’ve said something insane and snaps back. he says “…because i have manners?” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“we don’t even like each other!” “…we don’t?”

the two of you stare at each other in silence for a hot minute. then it hits you: he’s not cold or arrogant, just really awkward.

after that encounter, you’re oddly very protective of him.

he gets provoked by your original man one day when everybody’s geting ready for bed, and best believe you’re stepping in to defend sunghoon’s good name pronto.

EVERYONE is shocked. sunghoon looks at you with quiet appreciation.

it’s like you two fall into a pattern. every time something says an inkling of bad about this man you’re clocking them immediately. no questions asked.

“he said he wanted no pickles. 😡” typa relationship while he just stands there nodding like everything you say is law. 😭 you’re basically his walking translator.

at the next recoupling, everybody expects you to go back to your original couple. you were so solid, after all.

in a (not so shocking) turn of events, you don’t. you’ve already fallen for sunghoon.

the villa is in shambles over your ex man’s dumping from the villa. some of the guys claim you did him dirty, you had NONE of it.

casa amor comes, and everyone in the villa expects one of you to crumble.

nah bitch 😛 you come back from casa amor stronger than ever. by the time you get back, he’s waiting for you with a soft smile and asking you if you enjoyed yourself. you did!

you make it to the finals!

his reaction when you come out in your finale dress?? priceless. him flashing a rare toothy grin when you come out is a fan-favorite moment.

part of his speech goes something like this: “i’m not good with words, and i know i wasn’t even close to being your first choice at the start… but i want you to know i’ve only had eyes for you from the moment i walked into the villa. you were my first choice, even when i was everybody’s but yours.”

you finish the show as third placers with an INSANELY dedicated fanbase outside the villa as everyone’s favorite plot twist couple!!!

𓇼 KIM SUNOO

the drama king with a heart on his sleeve

staying true the events of iland, THIS MAN IS THE MOST POPULAR ISLANDER INSIDE AND OUTSIDE THE VILLA. he is the people’s princess fr.

a bombshell too, of course.

people just flock around him. 😩

the amaya papaya energy this man givess… his confessionals are constantly going viral because his reactions are just SO funny.

after walking in on a make out session between the villa’s resident “girl’s girl” and her best friend’s man, best believe he made a face and ran straight to the confessional booth.

“so guess what i just walked into rq…”

talks to himself in the dressing room because he KNOWS producers are going to have a field day with all his commentary. everyday is something new. grwms, self affirmations, a full breakdown of his skincare routine, it’s like this man was built for the cameras.

when he enters the villa, you’re already coupled up with someone else. someone who arguably doesn’t treat you very well. lingering stares pointed at other girls, blatant disregard for your feelings, secret kisses with others that you don’t know about, the whole package.

but the first time sunoo sees you, it’s full circle rom-com moment. he’s doing a double take and is so stunned mid-challenge that he fails to realize he’s about to get pied in the face by one of the other islanders. whipped cream ends up jammed in his ear.

no one in the villa seems to realize why he was blanked out… but social media knows.

“ouhhh the producers were messy for putting this man in the villa.” “FINALLY a decent guy for y/n.” “i hope he steals them away.”

you’re so kind, sweet, and genuine that this man decides he just HAS to have you. he’s friendly, but he doesn’t even pretend to be interested in the other villa girls when he goes on speed dates with all of you.

until your date. he’s smiling and giggling like a teenager at your painfully unfunny jokes because to him everything you say IS funny.

sunoo’s just like yea… your current mans won’t do. you best believe he’s going to do something about it.

and so the plotting commences.

literally. because he’s 100% open and honest that his intentions are to steal you even if it means prying you away from your couple’s cold, dead hands. just ask the confessional staff.

your current couple is blissfully unaware the bombshell everybody wants has his eyes on YOU, clearly not believing anyone else could be interested in you.

sunoo on the other hand, is propping himself up and looking pretty where he knows you pass by in the morning, courtesy of one of the villa girls sneaking him information.

he chats you up, and your dumb ahh is led to believe it’s a friendly conversation when he’s literally telling you how much better you’d look with him. 😭

he’s a jealous man tbh… he’s staring your couple down if he lays so much as a hand on you during challenges as if you’re already his.

petty king bcs he’s the type to snatch away the tea your man makes you for breakfast and replace it with his own. leaves the makeup room in whispers. you just sit there with a slight smile while doing your lashes while the other girls question you.

one time, he’s rushing to the seat next to you at breakfast before your couple can and telling you how good your hair looks today. viewers don’t miss the evil little smirk he sends to your man who stands there like this 🧍

is in the confessional later on nodding profusely and saying “i HOPE he saw that shit. serves him right.”

you’re still absolutely clueless. in your head, he’s written off as the friendly guy everybody loves. while you’re convinced there’s absolutely NO way he’s interested in you, there’s a little part of you that hopes he is.

enter the next recoupling.

you best believe sunoo snatches you up in the speed of light. everyone expected it but you. your ex-man is disappointed but ultimately backs off.

now, in a couple is where kim sunoo really shines.

you’re only just getting to know him and honestly in pure disbelief that you’re the one he set his sights on, so you’re admittedly skeptical when it comes to your new couple at first.

sunoo knows. does it rattle him? HELL no.

instead, he’s on a very loud mission to prove why he’s the better man.

come the baby challenge, this man is the best father. when everyone in the villa wakes up to mechanical babies crying at the foot of their beds, he springs into action.

he’s so funny with it too. 😭 manages to start imaginary beef with another couple’s baby.

absolutely insists that no swearing is allowed in front of the damn robot babies. production thought it would be funny to give you two, so he’s pushing around two strollers like they’re real children with a pacifier in his mouth all day. says your pretty face doesn’t even have to lift a finger.

edits of him with the song a single mom who works two jobs go viral on tiktok. he’s a mother now. no drama.

you don’t win the challenge, but the internet says you were absolutely robbed.

at one point during your time in the villa, a couple who happen to be friends of yours fall into a rough patch. there’s screaming, fighting, and pillow throwing. you and sunoo look at each other in absolute FEAR.

when the two of you decide you’ve had enough, you orchestrate an evil plan and each tell one of them to meet you at the pool in a desperate attempt to get them to talk.

it works. the two of you are giggling from a distance.

slowly, he starts to feel more like a friend than the untouchable bombshell. while he’s mischievous and sassy when he wants to be, he’s also undeniably kind, sensitive, and vulnerable. whenever you’re not near each other, he’s sneaking glances at you from across the villa as if he’s still pining.

literally nobody can doubt his adoration for you.

when casa amor comes around, he avoids women like the plague. he does what’s required of him to stay on the show, and that’s IT. you blink, and suddenly he’s back in your arms like casa never happened.

that’s not to say he’s not somehow updated on everyone else’s drama. he is. he never stops being the people magnet. very much not afraid to stand up for another islander when they’re being wronged, either.

when you come out in your finale dress, his reaction is one for the books. he looks like he needs to lie down.

you bet he’s planting kisses all over your face the moment you finish your little slow mo walking moment.

anddd… DING DING DING!! you guys win the season due to his insane popularity outside the villa. you split the money, of course. 🥇

𓇼 YANG JUNGWON

the enemy who came to your defense

his story in the villa is lowkey messy af for someone so kind and sensible.

here’s the thing: he sees you, he wants you, he couples up with you early on.

this sweet, sweet boy runs on honesty and respect. the girls love him. the guys confide in him.

consistently ranks realllyyy high on public voting too. nobody can get enough of jungwon, who remains level headed even in a villa full of snakes and cheaters.

another voice of reason within the villa!

that is, until your couple goes south. you just can’t seem to understand each other. it’s like mixing oil and water.

little misunderstandings turn into full blown ARGUMENTS.

he’s calm, level-headed, and logical. almost too logical at times. you on the other hand? affectionate, empathetic, and highly emotional. a sensitive gangster. not a good match.

production doesn’t even bother to air all of your arguments anymore. fans realize when they catch a glimpse of your tiny figures arguing in the distance while another couple has another conversation.

you clearly bring out the worst in each other. it gets to the point where you both start to shamelessly explore other people.

when you see him making his breakfast in the mornings? you’re turning around and speed walking back to your room immediately.

this man even sleeps OUTSIDE in soul ties to avoid sharing a bed. 😭

in other words? your couple is absolutely cooked.

and that’s completely normal. it’s love island, after all. not every couple is going to have an earth-shattering love story never seen before.

and so your silent agreement to just wait it out until the next recoupling commences.

and somehow, you two survive it! at the next recoupling, you both end up with new partners. his new girl is smart, soft-spoken, and adores him.

you’d argue that your new guy is even better. he’s sweeter, softer, emotionally available.

everyone in the villa is SO relieved. no more arguments before 10 in the morning, or wordless glaring at the dinner table. just peace.

except, something feels off.

you’re bored. there’s no fireworks with this new guy. like, holding hands politely kind of boring. he’s clearly more into you thank you’re into him.

producers are messy af for placing your shared bed next to jungwon’s too. 😭

you decide you wanna have a little make out session with your new guy under the covers one night? oh jungwon hears ALL OF IT.

jungwon’s crash out to a confessional is one for the books.

he blames it on his lack of sleep. truth is? he’s silently spiraling. he stares at his cereal like it did him wrong. he’s less chipper around the other guys.

the fans notice, they always do!!

“wait i thought they’d be happy when they recoupled wtf is happening?” “jungwon is lowkey wrong af for acting like this considering he prayed for that damn recoupling.” “how is y/n bored ALREADY.”

then comes the mail challenge.

all islanders receive anonymous messages from each other. some are funny, some are brutally honest, and some are just downright mean.

most have some pretty basic stuff sent to them: “you’re a player.” “you’re the fakest girl in the villa.” yada yada yada.

and then comes the time for you to read yours. you take a deep breath, pull out the mail from the box, and begin to read it out loud from the podium.

“you act really young for your big age. grow up and stop turning everything into a sob story.” everyone goes silent. hell, even the crickets stop chirping. one villa boy coughs.

everyone’s eyes turn to jungwon to confirm if he wrote it, but they find something else instead. his eyebrows furrow and his fingernails are digging into his knees.

it’s as if the man you hate most in the villa is having a hard time believing anyone could ever think that about you.

you try to keep it in, you really do. but in a second, you’re walking off the podium and tears are falling even faster. the girls try to follow, but you wave them off. you’re done.

in a shocking turn of events, jungwon gets up to run after you. the episode ends on a cliffhanger. fans are TWEAKINGGG.

“WAIT WHAT.” “lovers to enemies to lovers???” “i wonder what he said to her?”

to nobody’s surprise, you’re not waiting for him with open arms.

“what are you doing here?” “making sure you don’t choke on your tears.”

you don’t take his comment lightly. when you turn your back to him, lips trembling, his eyes are widening like his attempt to make you laughed has failed miserably.

without missing another beat, he shrugs his jacket off and places it atop your shoulders. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it like that. i don’t see why anybody could ever write that about you.”

the fans… are swooning…?

“you never do.” you snap, and for the very first time, he’s finally speechless.

“i’ll leave you alone,” he breathes. “just know i’ve always liked you for how much you could feel. i was an idiot for not knowing how to meet you half way.”

you’re frozen. that’s when the great shift happens.

everybody, including your new couples are MORTIFIED when you and jungwon are the first to sit at the breakfast table the next morning. you’re talking, laughing even.

it’s not just that one morning either. you’re talking more, even smiling occasionally. the whole villa notices.

it gets to the point where some people can even consider you reluctant friends?

a shot of you two by the fire solo one night goes viral. NOBODY can seem to figure out what the hell is happening.

until the unthinkable happens.

the producers rig a compatibility quiz so that you and jungwon are partnered up. nobody expects you to win.

you ace it and win a free date along the way. favorite food? biggest dream? he knows it all.

the confessional where jungwon talks about loving you the correct way is another fan-favorite from the two of you.

at the next recoupling? you know damn well he chooses you. you’re completely different. he thinks that might be why he needs you.

and yes, he gets you back for all the sleepless nights you caused him. by giving your ex-couple sleepless nights too!😁

ironically, you’re dumped from the villa for being voted the “most incompatible couple.” but who are you to complain when you have your man to come home with?

𓇼 NISHIMURA RIKI

the chaotic villa best friend turned partner

nicolandria fans buckle up.

this og boy absolutely pines over you since day one, but you’re too busy exploring connection after connection that isn’t him.

yes, you’re both coupled up with other people. but the moment drama unfolds in front of everyone in the villa? you’re looking at each other like a pair of concerned teenagers as if to say are you seeing this shit?

the watchers definitely notice. well, it’s hard not to when you’re all this man can talk about during his confessionals.

“oh yeah… xxx told me she wants to close off. anyways, today y/n—“

definitely faces criticism early on in the show. viewers are like… this isn’t friendship island? everyone swears he’s going to get dumped from the island if he doesn’t make a genuine connection stat.

still, ni-ki somehow manages to defy all odds.

throughout the first half of the show, he gets into couples with the villa girls who are interested in him just because. none are a genuine connection.

fans argue that he’s the youngest in the villa, so maybe no one is quite on his wavelength??

still somehow manages to have 2 different villa girls fight over him. it’s a whole thing.

ni-ki doesn’t know the nicest way to admit he just doesn’t care if they’re not you, the girl he swore he’d just make friends with, and nothing more.

not that he’d ever say that out loud.

but there are definitely signs.

he’s only ever made breakfast for you. all his conversations with the guys lead back to you. the one who raised his heart rate the most during a challenge was you.

the other guys are quick notice the way he pulls you away the moment your current couple walks away for five seconds. pool, water fights in the kitchen, night swimming, you’ve done it all.

and you’re not even in a couple.

slowly but surely, the fans begin to see you guys as a breath of fresh air.

amidst all the fighting and drama in the villa, there’s not one moment where the two of you aren’t sneaking away for some quality content of your shenanigans on live tv.

one morning, ALL of your common opp’s underwear ends up floating in the pool.

no one owns up to it. the public know it was you two.

best believe your respective couples hate you guys for each other. maybe because there something’s been present between the two of you from the start.

dirt on you is aired on live tv during the dirty laundry challenge? your man is upset about it?

don’t worry, ni-ki is clapping and whistling to let you know he respects your devious work.

you pull him for a chat one day and tell him how grateful you are for being your voice of reason in the villa and the reason why your couple is going so well. you thank him for being a good friend.

he’s just nodding with an awkward smile.

holy. freaking. airball.

the public is in absolute shambles. everyone is waiting for the day you two wake up and get together.

it doesn’t come easy.

true to your word, you continue to explore connections. but come casa… you realize your couple is not in fact going well. in fact, none of your romantic connections are.

why? because they don’t make you laugh as genuinely. they don’t make you want to talk on and on for hours. they don’t make you feel the way ni-ki does.

during your time away, to say you re-evaluated all your connections in the villa is an understatement.

your discovery? you and nishimura riki are not in fact just friends. 🥀

so you gear yourself up. the moment you step back into the villa, you’re going to make things right. you don’t bother exploring connections in casa because the one you want to leave this place with is a villa away.

when you admit your feelings to another villa girl, the clip spreads like WILDFIRE. the internet goes crazy.

“WTF???” “I NEVER THOUGHT THE DAY WOULD COME?” “niky/n nation we won..?” your fans that other people dubbed as delusional go wild.

the future looks bright. that is, until you get back to the villa to see another girl on ni-ki’s arm.

holy airball part 2. you immediately go never fucking mind and make an angry confessional or two.

your fans are on an emotional roller coaster at this point. nobody knows how to feel. everyone is in shambles. the other islanders are gossiping about how dumb you guys are.

ni-ki on the other hand, genuinely doesn’t know what he did wrong. you don’t return his feelings, after all. was it so wrong for him to try and move on?

when you make it a point to avoid him whenever he tries to take you out to have some fun in the villa, ni-ki is on the verge of crashing out.

your misunderstandings lead to an petty comments, an argument, then full-on pillow fighting with resentment.

“you done talking yet?” “no?? what the fuck did i do wrong???” sunoo and his couple watch on from the corner of the shared bedroom in shock.

eventually, they have ENOUGH. when sunoo’s girl tells you to meet her down at the pool to “talk about the situation,” you tell her you’ll be there.

to your dismay, ni-ki sitting in the hot tub instead, wondering why sunoo isn’t where he said he’d meet him.

it finally clicks to the two of you: you’re being tricked into talking.

when you click your tongue and turn around to walk away, you feel his hand on yours to stop you from leaving. you freeze.

he’s breathless, asking “are you mad at me?” “mad at you?? of course i’m mad at you??? you act like you’re into me all summer then the moment i decide to tell you i’m into you too theres another—“

you better believe this man is shutting you up with the most soul crushing, toe curling, booty jiggling kiss. the hot tub kiss makes love island history. your fandom is cheering.

the slow burn is FINALLY over.

while you guys’s couple is solid, you’re deemed to have gotten together too late to place in the show. ❤️‍🩹

you’re dumped as a couple right before the finale. still, your relationship withstands the test of time for many years to come!

also? arguably the couple with the biggest fanbase on the show. LMFAO.

perm taglist: @kristynaaah @wensurr © SWEETFWR

414 notes · View notes

hoonstrology · 2 days ago

Text

♯┆ after the cameras flash. ─── 김선우

"meet me at my door while it's still open."

꒰ pairing ꒱⠀⠀kim sunoo x fem!reader.

꒰ synopsis ꒱⠀⠀the glitter and glamour of modeling has always been sunoo's life. he dreamt of it, and he finally got it. but when the runway starts becoming too much like his home, you take it upon yourself to give him what he needs. but he realizes that the trade off isn't worth it— not when it's a life without you.

꒰ word count ꒱⠀⠀9.1k words.

꒰ genres ꒱⠀⠀model!sunoo. smut. lovers to exes, exes to lovers, break up, angst, fluff and comfort at the end. ꒰ warning! ꒱⠀⠀this is fucking filthy. meandom!sunoo, sub!reader. model!sunoo. verbal fighting, a little manhandling. unprotected p in v (zon't zo it.), angry sex, rough sex. dirty talking, impact play, dumbification, degradation, implied oral (f. receiving.), swearing, pet names. not proofread. lmk if i missed anything!

꒰ from ! 🐰 yan ꒱⠀⠀first time writing smut and i went insane. blame kim sunoo. huge shoutout to @zerocoded for helping me out and giving me tips. 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 if you have drabble/fic requests for other members, send them to my ask!

𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 & 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺 .ᐟ

KIM SUNOO ALWAYS KNEW HE WAS BUILT FOR THE LIFE OF MONEY AND FAME. he loved each flash of the camera, relished in the attention of the press, and happily posed when a fan asks for a photo in the streets.

shouting stylists, barely-paid interns running around, 14-hour trips overseas— what was considered chaos for an average person was peace to him. home, even. from photoshoots to the runway, he loved every single moment under the limelight.

but none of that ever mattered to you, his greatest supporter.

he was just a young adult with plans far too complex for him to fully commit to, but you understood him, nodded at his passion, fueled him to think bigger, grow brighter.

you, who always adored him, who never failed to remind him what he was capable of.

he credits you for the success he has now– you were to the one to kickstart it, after all. armed with the camera app and a dream, the both of you made it work.

you had the eye for his best angles, and you were adamant on directing how he should pose– what would make his legs look longer, what background would emphasize the texture of his jacket. you talked him through it and sunoo would retort that his 700 instagram followers wouldn't care if there was a hair out of place, but he'd fix it and follow your advice anyway.

through a balance of luck and hard work, one post blew up.

normal consumers and fashion connoisseurs alike recognized the talent, the visual your boyfriend had to offer. before he knew it, he managed to get a commercial modeling offer— just a small clothing brand, but it was the start of something big.

over the course of three years, offers from independent clothing brands turned into offers from fashion houses whose names you can't pronounce– not even with sunoo patiently teaching you. the 700 instagram followers grew past a few million. the online ootd videos he once filmed with you became commercials, his face and body littered across billboards and social media ads.

you were with him every step of the way. arms always open for a warm hug when he came home tired, lending a helping hand when he's going through a slump, even offering to help him relax during nights where he'd be needy for your body but too exhausted to move.

from big milestones of buying the penthouse unit he's always dreamt of, to quiet losses when he got turned down in a casting call, you spent every single with him, letting him know that you're always gonna be proud of him, and stand with him, no matter what.

at the time, he was so happy— and he thought you were too.

you've always been the quieter one in your relationship, and maybe that's why the relationship worked so well. people around you claimed you two were perfect for each other. he brought the excitement you thought you didn't need in your life, and you mellowed out his bright and dramatic energy by providing him a safe space to rest and come home to.

"provided." sunoo corrected his inner thoughts out loud in the middle of stirring his coffee, suddenly remembering that he wasn't the person who you got to indulge in your warmth. not anymore.

in relationships, the first fight is just that— the first. it's a normal thing that relationships go through with some people even encouraging it because it marks the true beginning of a meaningful connection to one's partner, but that's a lie to sunoo.

a fucking paradox.

it's can't be the first and last— that doesn't make sense.

he gave you everything he could, but maybe everything wasn't what you needed. maybe the bright flashes of the camera blinded his eyes to the way you would frown when he picked up a call in the middle of the night, leaving you to finish the k-drama by yourself.

maybe the tight clothes they gave him numbed his skin from your needy touch and squeezes, brushing your kisses off with a sweet but tired 'good night' due his tiresome day, leaving you feeling neglected and lonely in the bed you shared.

maybe the confidence he had in his looks lead him to ignore the talks about yours when people found out that the kim sunoo has a girlfriend; one that was undeserving, plain looking, and far too normal for a rising model like him.

no matter how much he denied the break up, his brain will always manage to give him an HD photo of how it was before and how it is now, like it already knew you were slipping away before his heart caught on.

the bubbles in his lukewarm coffee settled around the rim and his reflection stared back at him from the liquid abyss— mocking him and making him recall how it all started boiling over.

you were sat on the couch, arms crossed over your chest when he came home from a twelve-hour long shoot day. he wanted nothing more than to curl up next to you and bask in your presence, so when you flinched away from his touch, he raised a brow.

"what's your deal?" he asked, irritated from being denied.

"sun... i waited all night." you sighed, palms rubbing on your arms up and down while trying to contain the disappointment in your voice.

"and?"

you stared at your boyfriend of three years, still in the heels and prada dress he gifted you for the same occasion he evidently forgot planning. you were in disbelief, especially more irritated by the nonchalance in his tone.

your stilettos made a sharp noise against the tiled as you stomped up, trying to control the distraught you felt while you took off your jewelry, trying your best to hold in the tears prickling at your eyes.

"darling.. what are you doing?" he sighs, voice laced with contempt before holding on your hand. you shook it off with a grunt, turning your back to him to forcefully wipe the stray tear that managed to roll down your cheek and throwing the earrings down the glass table with a shrill clank.

"i prepared so much.. fucking took my time and got pretty for you..." you sniffed, turning to him with glassy orbs, eyes rimmed red from holding back your tears. "only to be stood up and get talked to like this? when you're the one who forgot?" you whisper, index finger harshly pressing on his chest.

"i got so much work today, it must have passed my mind. i'm sorry, darling. i'll make it up to you." he hummed, holding both wrists and pulling you to him to cage you in his arms, still wearing that calm smile which heightened the sadness settling in your heart.

"sun, tonight was supposed to be the night you make it up to me. for all the times you messed up before." you sighed, shoulders deflated in defeat as you stayed still against him.

his scent, his body's heat, the mere aura that radiated him calmed your anger in ways inexplicable by logic— he just had that effect on you, and you detested yourself for giving in to him so quickly.

sunoo, not having it with the lack of warmth, guided your hands around his torso, pressing a kiss on the soft curve of your jaw. "i know, sweetheart. i'm sorry. work was just so crazy. forgive me, mm?" he whispers softly this time, plump lips pressing down the column of your neck, now bare from the string of expensive pearls.

"i'll still make it up to you tonight, and tomorrow too. i'll clear my schedule for you." he muttered the words in between wet sounds of his lips smacking against your skin, licking the faint redness starting to form under the precise nips of his teeth.

you let out a gasp, mewling his name out as your palms found purchase on his waist, trying to fight the instinctive urge to tilt your neck, but you do so anyway and sunoo smirked, licking a stripe across your pulse point before trailing the kisses back up to the shell of your ear. "be a good girl for me and jump."

you already knew what that meant.

his hands rested behind your upper thighs and you jumped, legs wrapping around his hips, the same plump lips nipping at your neck earlier now finding comfort tangled up against your own in a wet, messy kiss while he walked to the bedroom.

your expensive dress was discarded to a corner of the room, his shirt was somewhere along there too, and he couldn't care for the painful strain in his pants because tonight he was going to make sure you forgot all his shortcomings, determined to have nothing else but his name leaving your lips.

a month later, it came.

quiet and peaceful.

unexpected.

it was supposed to be okay. things have become relatively normal since that night. no fights before and no fights since. sunoo made sure to stay on top of the promises he made, declined certain projects, or informed you beforehand if it was too big for him to cancel.

it was progress, but there's only so much that can happen in a month.

and if shame allowed you to admit it out loud, you started to believe the nameless, faceless nobodies online— maybe you were too plain for sunoo. he deserved someone who can accept his success, not someone who dulled out his shine.

so you made your decision.

you called for sunoo in the middle of an online briefing about the next season's runway show somewhere in europe, and he couldn't be happier to have a valid reason to ditch it.

he tapped on his thigh, gesturing you to sit on his lap like you always did, but you chose to sit on the bed beside him, making him raise an eyebrow. "is something wrong, love?"

you took a deep breath before pursing your lips. "i just.. can't do this, sun." you started, your hands pressing on your knees in discomfort.

sunoo paused, the words not quite registering to him yet.

"what do you mean?"

"this. i can't do this anymore." you mumbled, hands vaguely gesturing to the space between your bodies.

"darling... are you— are you breaking up with me?" he asked, voice low and trembling, moving to kneel in front of you, frantically looking into your eyes like he thinks you're lying and can somehow find the truth behind it if you looked at him too.

your relationship has always been serene. yes, you've had arguments but they've always been done in good faith. the only actual fight you've had, if you could even call it a fight, was a month ago and it got resolved just as quickly as it came.

neither of you ever have ever brought up the damning words. no offers of a break up, not even threats of it, so to say he was taken aback was an understatement.

he thought you were happy. he thought he made you happy. so why are you leaving? it had to be a badly done joke, but it didn't prevent tears from leaving his eyes nonetheless.

"my sun, don't cry..." the steady stream of tears rolling down his cheeks make your heart want to collapse in on itself, and the affectionate nickname you reserved for him only made sunoo's tears roll out faster.

you turned away. you had to. because you knew looking at his tearful face would have you giving in to the soft and quiet appeals.

"y/n... my darling. please. please don't do this." he pleaded. "please? what do you need? i-i'll cancel anything the next month. i'll make it up to you, sweetheart. please, just.. don't—" he breathes out, voice cracking at the last word. "—don't leave me."

his forehead rested against your knee and you took a deep breath, running your fingers gently through the back of his tresses. "no, sunoo. you worked hard for this.. you can't throw it away for me."

"but i want to!" he cried as he looked up, eyes glossy from tears.

"well don't." you replied with finality, jaws clenched as you stared back with an blank expression. "this is for the best."

you tried to say something about how you couldn't handle secondhand fame, and how you weren't built to accompany a star as bright as him, a stray tear leaving your eyes in the middle of speaking, but everything else had already been a fog.

you left without looking back and for the first time in years, sunoo experienced what it's like to be in your shoes: to sleep with the other side of the bed cold, still open, still waiting for the other's presence.

he tried to go to work at first, ignoring the questions of nosy makeup artists and stylists about how his eyelids looked so puffy and how he looked like he hasn't been taking care of himself. but the longer he did it, the more burn-out he got. nothing really changed, but somehow everything did too.

you took that time to move out of the shared space, special trinkets thrown into a bag, clothes roughly discarded and thrown into your luggage, grabbing whatever you can during the hours he was away.

leaving so coldly was unlike you, but you knew better than to have another conversation with sunoo. you knew you didn't have the self-control for it with every fiber in your being telling you that you're only yourself when you're with him, so you had to be.

when you turned around one last time to see the space you're gonna be leaving behind, guilt began wrapping around your heart like an expensive, but suffocating silk scarf.

you'd be lying if you said that the relationship wasn't eating away at you. but it would be an even bigger lie to say you didn't have doubts of second thoughts about wanting to leave sunoo. so you walked to the kitchen, pouring your heart into the final note and sticking it on the fridge.

"take care of yourself, my sun. i'll always be watching, and i will always be proud of you. i love you— forever."

"stop it, sunoo. regretting it won't make her come back." he chuckled bitterly to himself as he read the note for the seventh day in a row, the undrinken coffee cup getting discarded in the sink as he trudged towards the bathroom.

he splashed his face with cold water and sighed softly at what greeted him in the mirror— he looked like shit, that much was true. then, his eyes caught the sorry sight of a single toothbrush in the cup. he stared at it like if he looked hard enough, maybe your baby pink brush would appear beside it.

maybe you would appear beside him.

but no such thing happened, and he shook his head, laughing hollowly for starting to grow delusional.

but how could he not? everywhere he went, he was reminded of your absence.

there were no socks stuck in between the cushions of the couch when he watched tv. his bed didn't feel warm when he tried taking a nap. the kitchen cupboards were missing the ugly coffee mugs, and the dining room table was missing the fake succulents you were insistent on adding because 'it brings life back to the place'.

the pain that kept him in a slump for the past week was morphing into restlessness, and it didn't help that every step he took in his home evoked your memory in vivid images.

so in his mission of forgetting you and 'taking care of himself', he decided that today would be the day he goes out. he slid the door of his closet open and in it, he was reminded, yet again, of how much he truly lost. half of the wardrobe was empty, much like the rest of this cursed apartment.

it stared at him like your abandonment— a physical representation of how empty he felt with his other half gone.

ignoring the pang in his chest, he listened to the metal hooks of the velvet-lined hangers scrape against the pole as he pushed through them fervently to find a sweater until his eyes caught something of yours that made his hands freeze mid-air.

a white shirt. the same one you loved to use when you made breakfast after a night of love making. the same one he'd fuck you in again on top of the kitchen counter. the memories, lewd, heartwarming, or both, came to him with each piece of your clothes he came across.

in a blink of an eye, he had a pile of the clothes you left on the floor. still smelling half like you, and half like his perfume that you 'borrowed' so often.

he knows he shouldn't break no-contact

you haven't contacted him since you left, and he hasn't found the courage to be the first to reach out. but he didn't want the clothes to go to waste. these had sentimental value to you, and some of this would surely be important.

at least, that's how he convinced himself as he typed away at his phone.

to: sweetheart. — hey. can you come pick up your clothes? i'll leave them by the main door.

not even a minute in, and your reply came like you were waiting for a message. like you were waiting for his message.

from: sweetheart. — on my way.

the doors creaked open just a few hours later. sunoo heard it from the safety of his room, and he knew you were here. "sun?" you called out, one foot through the threshold like you're unsure. like your body didn't know whether this space was still yours.

the text was so cold and detached. it was only proper that you come here as soon as you can to finally rid him of whatever traces you left behind that he obviously didn't want.

"come in." his voice echoed from what used to be your shared bedroom. you stepped through and locked the door behind you, eyes scanning the living area to see no clothes in sight— so you headed to the source of his voice and there, you found sunoo sat on the bed.

looking small, tired, yet still folding your clothes with carefulness because it was the last thing tying this place—him—to you.

you leaned against the door's frame, faking a smile while crossing your arms over your chest. "haven't seen you do that since junior year."

"how could i when you never let me touch the laundry." he whispered, voice balmy as he laid the cream white polo on the box, the corner of his lips tugging up as the memory of you and a compression wrap around his sprained ankle flashed in his mind. "told me you'd kill me before i die slipping on laundry detergent again."

"that'd be a stupid way to die." you replied with a shrug and a more genuine smile, walking closer to him. not quite touching, but enough to feel the little warmth that radiated from his body. "and you're folding it wrong, sun. the sleeves go inside before anything els—"

"let me do this for you." he says, reaching for your arm and returning it to your side. he stubbornly resumed but kept your tip in mind, flattening the fabric with his palm before carefully folding it over itself while pursing his lip, nibbling on the lower one.

"can.. can you call me that again?"

"sun?"

"no. the other one. my favorite. in the way you said it.. before."

"my sun?" you whispered, his body doing a light bounce as you scoot closer, taking the folded clothes and keeping it safe in the beige box. he smiled at the sound, taking the last piece of cloth in his hands, the genuine curve in his lips turning into an unreadable melancholic expression in an instant.

you couldn't quite tell whether it was made in longing for what you once had, or in sorrow for how it ended. possibly in mourning— because he knows that the last jean has been folded, and once it's settled in the box, his days moving forward will be exact replicas of the past week he spent without your presence.

he apprehensively put the final piece down with into the box and you stood to pick it up, feet quickly carrying you up and away as if it knew how heavy the hair was getting inside.

behind you, sunoo followed in quiet but seemingly sure footsteps.

he stood tall, proud, body tilted to one side as he leaned on the wall with a shoulder, hands deep in his pocket. his eyes drop from your face to your hand, and he feels his chest clenching tighter with each step you took closer to the door. his fear is coming true.

stop it, sunoo. do something. anything.

"are you that desperate to leave me?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper yet still somehow booming in your ears— somehow still managing to carry through the decorated navy blue walls, reaching you, and managing to rattle your bones and wrap around your muscles like an audible paralyzing agent.

your hand felt clammy around the cool metal, the other straining from the weak hold you had on the heavy box but you tightened your fingers around the flimsy container.

you're here to pick up your clothes, that's it.

your heart knew as much as your mind did that staying here would only stir the pot, and when sunoo took a step forward, they practically rung like loud sirens inside you, telling you to pick up your feet and run— but your body stood in place, only tensing up again when his voice broke the deafening silence.

"answer me, sweetheart. please." sunoo came out as a desperate croak, now merely inches behind you. his fingers wrapped around your wrist, firm, possessive, yet gentle in tugging at it in hopes that the tugs he gave would be enough to let you know he didn't want this—you, leaving—but your grip on the knob was unyielding, and sunoo found answer in that.

you weren't just desperate to leave, you were determined.

his fingers only tightened around you, the pain enough to have you letting go. "sunoo." you called, voice soft and measured, trying to shake him off but he turns you around in one smooth flip, leaning down to come face to face with you.

the thud of the box echoed against the tall glass windows of the penthouse as its contents pooled around both your feet, but you couldn't care for it. not when sunoo's persistent on cracking your resolve, chipping away at it each time you inhaled his infuriatingly familiar scent of floral and musk.

your body moved itself, neck craning as you turn your head to the side but his hands snap forward, reaching for your jaw to turn your head to him. the movement was so brash it made you whimper.

the fluff of his freshly dyed jet black hair fell over his face yet you still felt the intensity of the eyes hiding behind them. "if you don't want me anymore, say it to my face." the words rolled off his tongue like a thinly veiled threat while his eyes looked into yours, carefully studying.

you willed to stay poker-faced because a deep part of yourself knew that a single misstep, a single misspoken word, even a single crack in your voice would be detected and correctly read as a lie. "sunoo, it's.. not—"

"then what is it?" he asked, brows drawn together as his fingers press deeper against the softness of your cheeks like it would somehow guide the words he wanted to hear out of you, but kept mum, brows downturned when you finally gained the courage to return his gaze.

sunoo prides himself in being able to read you well—too well—and the look you gave him, tired and empty, just fueled the quiet storm that's been brewing inside since your absence.

"don't act like this isn't hard for me too." you sighed, prying the hold he has on your face, though that did nothing more than make the situation worse. he opted to lock you between the door and his taller frame, palms pressed against the wood with both arms square on the side of your head, fox-like eyes growing darker when you refused to indulge him with an answer.

"then. what. is. it." sunoo enunciates each word, voice low, face inching closer to yours after every pause. you pursed your lips, back firmly pressed against the wooden door but he only kept coming closer and closer, invading your space like it's his— like it's still his. your hands pressed on his firm chest, putting an arm's length of much needed distance between your bodies.

sunoo took a few more steps back with arms held up, jaws clenched and lips quirked up in sarcasm as he sauntered to the loveseat, half-sitting on its armrest before running his fingers through his dark hair, a gruff noise leaving his lips that sounded like something between a laugh and a scoff as he's left to deal with the pain of your physical rejection.

"it's too much. too much. like i told you, everything got overwhelming for me." you started, bringing a hand up to press on your temples. "your schedule, y-your lifestyle— god, they were calling me a plain jane, sun." you let out a grunt in exasperation, eyes picking up from the floor to stare at the slouched figure across the room.

plain jane? his woman? his y/n? he has never heard of such nonsense.

"who's they?" he asked with quiet intensity, eyebrows contorted together in irritation.

"your fans, sunoo. people. i don't know— i don't care anymore." you were tired. so tired, and weary, and exhausted of having to justify your decision because it started to feel like you were also convincing yourself that it was enough of a reason to leave him.

"they're strangers to me, to us, sweetheart." sunoo sighed from his spot, holding himself back from rolling his eyes at the lame excuse.

"i know, but the words don't hurt any less!"

when your voice came out, it was sharper, piecing, laced with poison and the undeniable fear of having your feelings out and bare, all vulnerable in front of your ever-adored ex boyfriend— and it made the two of you freeze.

the clock ticked and the city, floors below the large apartment, thrummed in ignorance of the tension that hung between former lovers— one tired and wanting to escape, the other still desperately holding on.

"three years. three fucking years, and all it took were stupid trolls on the internet to ruin this relationship i took so much care of." he scoffed in disbelief, standing up straight to look to you.

sunoo's snarky tone only furthered your temper, raising an eyebrow at your ex boyfriend. "took so much care of? sunoo, do you hear yourself?" you chuckled in disbelief. "don't blame them. you were also a part of this! you neglected me. not the people i don't care for, but you."

your fingers pointed at him in accusation and sunoo shot you a glare entirely different from the ones he used to give when you took the last piece of pastry or bit on his arm too hard— no, this one was genuine in its irritation.

"me? darling—" his slender fingers ran through his hair, tongue poking against his inner cheek with a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips. "i give you everything you want, even things you feel too shy to ask for. the clothes, the jewelry, the fancy k—"

"and what about dates, huh?" you cut him off, looked at him in defiance and sunoo struggled to keep still, now pacing back and forth across the living room like he didn't know whether being closer to you calmed him down or whether it furthered the pain clawing at his insides.

seeing the arrogant smirk get wiped from his face only emboldens you to continue, a sick part of the pride you tucked away so deep finally coming out with each rhetorical question, even counting your fingers just to prove your point.

"what about all the times you forgot about your promises, hm? or when you constantly broke our no-phone rule? or when you'd refuse to touch me because posing for the cameras is more important than your damn girlfriend?"

you paused for a moment, chest rising and falling as you tried to control yourself but the more you thought about it, the angrier you got, and the words escaped your lips before you could even contain the venom mixed in them.

"those trolls, no matter how annoying they are, are correct. you need someone who could keep up with the glitz and glamour of your life, and maybe i need someone who could keep up with the calm of mine." you spat out out the last words, face blank but inwardly proud that your voice didn't shake.

letting everything out was supposed to calm you down, but unease began settling in your bones like the quiet gracing the space. no one spoke. only your heavy breathing and soft buzz of the elevator down the hall. you expected him to snap back, to retort something equally as smart or as sharp— but the silence persisted, and you began to want him to say something, anything in return.

instead, sunoo looked at you, stood up straight with the type of composure that asked, no, commanded your full attention. his face was blank for the most part, only the mild spasm on the muscle of his forearm while he stared.

despite his silence, you sensed it. you physically felt it. this was not defeat, nor was this resignation. it's just the calm before the storm.

in the rational part of his mind, he knows you only said what you did in overwhelm. that those were just words weaponized against him to fling pain, the same hurt you've been quietly enduring while he focused on his career— but rationality left him the same day you did, and the remaining sense he had to feel empathy for you died the moment you implied needing another man.

the mere thought of having another replacing his spot in your life irked him like nothing else. he earned that spot, he fought for it, he bared himself to you so you'd know he's deserving of it, and yet you had the audacity to think that he won't devote himself into becoming what you need?

the internal dialogue drowned him, pushing his body forward and springing him into action— three big strides across the living room, big hands pinning your shoulders to the door. his jaw was tightly clenched and his voice came out thin and raspy.

"say that again, sweetheart. i fucking dare you."

your lips parted, but nothing came out. not when you felt like your heart was pounding in your throat, eyes wide and afeared as they stayed glued to sunoo's. his orbs flickered with something wild, something ravenous but patient enough to lie low in anticipation of your next mistake.

he didn't move— not yet. neither did you.

his breathing was loud. labored. his nostrils were flaring with each intake of air like it was the only fuel to his strength. the muscles of his jaw were clenched tight with his lips pursed into a straight line, urging it to remain shut because he knows only a pathetic pleading for you to stay will ensue if dares part it.

his grip on you is tight, too. just a small press away from bruising. but his eyes—his gaze—though barely visibly from the thick lashes, was the thing that truly kept you from moving. you couldn't do anything but witness how his eyes dropped to your lips, up to the evident flush in your cheeks, the irregular rise of your chest when your breath hitched after he leaned just a hair's width towards you.

the gulps you made weren't muffled by the silence either, and sunoo found delight in knowing that no matter how many you took, it wouldn't help hydrate your throat. it wouldn't let you bark back.

still, you stubbornly tried to talk your way out— to tell him that you didn't mean it. that you weren't thinking when you talked, but it all came out as a whimper when his fingers dragged lazy shaped on your collarbone.

the air is starting to change, or maybe it already had. you can't tell whether it suffocated or exhilarated you, but somehow, along the way, your thighs started rubbing together and your skin was starting to thrum with a wave of warmth each time your heart beat.

you're a fool to think that you could walk away, to think that he wouldn't notice but sunoo did. he always does. your whimper had his lips curling into a sick, satisfied grin, drunk in power as he got the confirmation he needed from the pathetic sound you made.

you could reject him, hurt him with your words, or torture him with your lack of it— but your body said enough.

in a flash, you're in his arms, legs wrapped tightly around his waist while his supported you from your ass, squeezing the soft flesh, nails digging so deep you can feel it even through your shorts.

"s-sun.." you whimpered again, palms pressing against his nape to keep you from falling. "shut up." he spat, landing a quick slap on the clothed behind before letting you fall to the couch with a soft 'hmpf', slotting himself between your legs to keep it spread.

"this what it's about? my sweetheart being touch deprived?" he leaned down until your foreheads touched, his palm finding rest on your waist and giving it a gentle squeeze contrasting to the darkness behind his laughter. "if you wanted to have a better fuck, you could've just asked me."

"n-no, i meant—" his palm began traveling further down to your covered heat, fingers toying across the stitches of your shorts right above your heat, which had you biting down on your lower lip to muffle your moan.

"what did you mean, mm?" he raised an eyebrow, speaking in a mocking voice as he rubbed your clothed cunt using two fingers, a deep laugh leaving his lips when thin strings of wetness follow his fingers as he pulls them away. "because your body is telling me something else. you're fucking soaked through your shorts, dirty girl." in one swift movement, he tugged them down, leaving your lower half barely covered.

just like the clothes you abandoned, he folded you in half, but this time, it wasn't done in gentleness— his palms were rough and gripping as they pushed your knees towards your shoulder.

"keep 'em there." he ordered, and you couldn't find it in you to disobey.

contrary to what everyone thought, your boyfriend isn't the passive man he's pictured to be. yes, people found him cute and he was soft-spoken, but he knew what he liked— and what he liked, he made sure he got.

that translated into your sex life too. he's a domineering man in bed, but a soft one. always asking if you liked what he was doing, always reveling in pleasuring you, and always made sure to put your needs above his, intent on listening to your body's every whim and need.

but this man... this isn't sunoo.

you were watching the sweet, soft boy you've loved devolve into something else entirely— consumed by fury, hurt, and jealousy of a hypothetical man threatening to take his place in his sweetheart's life.

if the angry bulge visible from his grey sweatpants were anything to go by, he's consumed by the physical need to claim you as his, too. again, and again, and again.

this time, he was getting what he wanted. by hook or by crook.

his middle finger dragged up and down your slit, spreading your arousal inside and making a dark stain of a stripe appear on the thin fabric. his smile grew wicked as he ghosted his fingers on the translucent cloth right above your clit and proceeded to drag small circles around it, not quite putting pressure where you needed him the most.

you gripped on the back of your knees, his name dying in your throat and getting replaced by a sharp gasp when his palm struck down your barely clothed core, and your reaction to it was all the confirmation he needed to enact his cruelty, validated in letting out his pent up frustration on your body.

"fuck, needy baby left my hand all messy and we aren't even starting yet." he whistled as he looked at the dull shine on his hand, opting to dry it out by smacking them along your inner thighs repeatedly, earning loud whines from you.

without any warning, sunoo's finger hooked on the center of your ruined underwear and pulled it aside, pushing two past your fluttering hole. "see— fuck, you can take my cock now." he grunted, the veins on his forearm prominent as he curled his fingers. "but i'm being so nice for prepping you, right?"

you could only nod and sunoo clicked his tongue in disapproval, pulling his hand out to land another punishing slap on your cunt, the wet sound of skin getting smacked filling the room. "you answer me when i ask you, sweetheart."

"mhh— yes! yes, fuck, so nice." you whined, legs trembling once he pushes his fingers back in and he relished in the squelching sounds it made, heart full of pride as he sees your eyes half lidded and already glazed over.

"that's right. i'm so nice to you, see?" he purred, thumb rubbing quick circles around your swollen clit as his free hand moved to cup your breast through your top, giving it a quick slap before soothing it with a squeeze, jaw tensing when he feels you clench around his fingers.

"dirty fuckin' whore. can't believe you like this." he impatiently pushed his own undergarments down with one hand, the fabric pooling around his knees he ripped the flimsy underwear from your legs.

your hands resumed its hold on the back of your knees while sunoo stroked his cock with one hand, the tip of it red and angry while leaking precum, dropping down on your already messy cunt. he spread your puffy lips apart with two fingers, biting his lip at the visual.

"look, baby. your poor hole is crying without me in it." he mocked, a dark chuckle rumbling from his chest to see your cheeks flush, empty hole pulsing around nothing. "and you have the fucking nerve to leave me here? by myself?" he asked, landing a hard smack straight between your thighs.

"sunoo.. sun, please!" you cried out pleading, sinking further into the couch.

"please what?"

"touch... m-me." you whispered, voice trailing off. his eyebrow rose for a moment, deep in thought before lifting you up to make you switch places. he sat on the couch, manspread with a fist still around his leaking hardness while he made you stand before him, knees wobbly with arousal dripping down your inner thigh.

"take everything off." he said, leaning back against the plush cushion as he watched you throw your shirt and bra off.

you feel so exposed, so used, and your skin is starting to feel far too sticky and warm under his hawk-like gaze, but you can't care for it when your body is fueled by the depravity of watching him stroke his cock— slow and measured like he was relishing your humiliation.

"sunoo, enough of this— please. i want you."

he tapped on his thigh and you immediately moved to straddle him but before you can even reach for his length, his palm met the skin of your exposed chest and the impact had you keening.

"no touching." he sternly spoke before offering you two fingers. "if you want me so bad, you'll take what you can get."

the same hand moved in between his thigh and you bite your lip at the ridiculousness of the implication but your brain is too fuzzy, too driven by the need to be filled so you sink yourself down on his fingers while the thing that you need gets stroked by his own hands.

sunoo smirks at the pathetic sight in front of him— you, desperately bouncing on two fingers while letting out soft mewls about how it's not enough.

"is it not? like how i'm not enough?" he spoke with venom, angling his fingers inside you that pitched your moans higher. "n-no.. you are— just... nnh– i need you! need your cock, baby, please!"

"hmm. i don't know about that, darling. something about needing someone else.. what was that? you needed someone to match your calm?" sarcastic, hurt feigned by his sadism, he let go of his cock to land more blows on the side of your jiggling mounds, the pain making you bounce faster.

"but you're fucking yourself on my fingers like a pathetic bitch in heat— all without apology." he venomously spat, running a tongue over his lower lip.

"'m sorry! 'm sorry, baby.. p-please." you babbled, thighs burning yet his degrading words only urged you ride faster. his fingers, though good, was not nearly enough compared to the fill you know you'll get with the real thing. "ah! need your cock.. mmh— 'm sorry. please—"

he pulled his fingers away, holding his length up before tipping his chin towards it. "show me how sorry you are, sweetheart." you moved with quickness to straddle him properly, hands resting on his broad shoulders before you sink yourself down, mouth making a small 'o' as his cock stretches you out inch by inch.

you can't do anything but babble thanks yous and sorries as you move up and down on his length, nails digging down on sunoo's fair skin. "don't need your apologies. i said show me, slut." he hissed, pushing the same sticky fingers still coated in your arousal past your lips yet you continue to muffle your words and whimpers against them.

the room is filled with the sound of your wet slobbering against the digits pressing down on your tongue, wet skin slapping slapping and sunoo's breathy sighs. "just like that.. my good girl." he holds one hand on your waist, head thrown against the backrest of the couch as your tightness clamp down on him.

it isn't long before the familiar heat in the pit of your stomach starts feeling like it's too hot, walls pulsing repeatedly against sunoo's length. "c..cuh—" you choked against his fingers and he chuckles, taking the fingers wet with your saliva to your clit to rub on it harshly.

"what's that? is my sweet girl cumming so soon?" the thrill of the threat hiding behind his sweet voice has you screaming his name out loud, your upper body falling on top of his as you rode your high, hips bucking forward.

he rubbed your back soothingly, flashing you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "can't have that, can we? i haven't had my fill yet." he pouts, large hands gripping on your ass before smacking it again.

your body was still trembling from the previous orgasm when he manhandled you until you're face down on the couch, settling behind you. "sun.. mmh— w-wait—"

"are you that selfish, sweetheart? for three years, i've been so good at taking care of you." he hisses as he stroked his wet cock, running the head up and down your wetness, purposefully pressing it on the swell of your clit. "putting you first," a smack on your plump ass to emphasize his words, caressing the red handprint beginning to form. "and you can't even wait for me to finish." and another one on the neglected cheek.

he's slapping at your ass, the back of your thighs, even at your spent cunt until you're crying his name and it does nothing but make his eyes grow darker, anger still clouding his head to think properly. "gonna take what's mine. what's always been mine." he muttered, grabbing his length by the base before slipping back inside your gummy walls.

he gripped on your hips, thrusts punishing and frantic as he chased his high while peppering wet kisses along your shoulder blade. "you hear that, love?" he pants. "poor cunt's sucking me in, ha— all f'me.. like your body knows you need me." you give him a breathless nod, tears leaving your eyes from overstimulation.

"shit— can't let anybody have this." the fingers digging down on your skin is sure to leave bruises tomorrow, along with the blooming marks he left along your nape and shoulder. "tell me, love. whose hole is this, hm?"

your voice came out raw and pinched as you whimpered his name and sunoo grabbed your at your chest, giving your perky bud a gentle pinch. "louder. let me know who's making you feel good." he pulled out just until the head is left inside before pounding his hips into you again, desperate to hear more of your broken moans.

"s-sunoo!" you cried as loud as you can, frail body getting knocked forward with each powerful thrust. "damn fucking right." he growled. "think anyone else can have you like this? all fucked out and dumb?" he grabbed at your hair roughly, tugging on it as he whispered even more depravities against the shell of your ear.

"mmh— sun, i'm—" your fingers clawed at the linen couch as you feel another high approaching hard and fast, the knot in your stomach feeling too tight and painful to bear but sunoo's uncompromising, still merciless and insistent on chasing after his own.

"don't, hnn.. fuck— be a good girl, sweetheart. be a good for me, y-yeah?" he let go of your hair and replaced it with just as tight of a hold on your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts.

your cheek pressed against the couch, eyes rolled to the back of your head while you whimpered and babbled nonsense, even more tears slipping down your sweat-ridden skin as you let go screaming his name.

your trembling figure triggered sunoo's own orgasm, hips pressed into your ass as he buried himself to the hilt, letting out an airy groan of your name and shuddering as he painted your walls white. sunoo quickly pulled out of your spent hole, lips twitched up in satisfaction as he watched your mixed juices leak out of you.

the pride soon turned into a sense of responsibility as you hoarsely called out for him again and he pressed a kiss on the base of your nape. "wait a bit, my darling." your body gave out without his hold, upper body propped up on the sofa for support, letting out a quiet whine when sunoo's warm body pulled away from yours.

he came back to carefully wipe you down with a wet towel, his other hand brushing your hair off of your skin that glimmered with sweat under the dim lighting. "i'm sorry, love. i think i went a little too much on you. i'll set up a bath for us, okay?" he frowned, pressing apologetic kisses all over your back.

you managed to giggle even in your broken state, holding out a hand. "no.. wan' bed." you croaked out and he just gave you a smile, easily picking you up princess style and carrying you to the bedroom while pressing even more kisses across your face.

somewhere along the travel, your body gave in to drowsiness and sunoo just laid you on your side of the bed, slipping his shirt on your body before covering you with the thick duvet.

he laid beside you with his arms securely around your waist, a smile—genuine and wide—pasted on his lips as he watched you sleep.

the sunlight peeked through the curtains that were barely drawn shut, leaving warmth on sunoo's skin that made him smile in his subconscious. his arms sleepily reached forward but when it fell on nothing but the cotton satin of the sheets, his eyes shot wide open.

your side of the bed was barely warm and when he looked around, there were no signs of you.

was he was mistaken? was last night not a testimony of the fact that you two still loved each other? or was it just your bodies speaking before your mind could think? did you wake up and decide that it was just purely sex and not a physical confession of how much he needed you back?

sunoo rubbed the sleep off his face, brows knitted as he pushed himself off of the bed to face yet another painful day. as soon as the bedroom door opened, the smell of freshly brewed coffee invaded his nostrils.

his heart spiked, almost tripping on his own feet as he ran down the hallway to see you sat in the living room, legs crossed with nothing but his shirt on, quietly sipping on coffee from a white mug.

"sweetheart." he whispered, breathless, with an arm pressed against the wall for support.

"hey, sun. had some of your coffee, hope you don't mind." you muttered shyly.

"like i give a fuck about the damn coffee." he muttered, quickly stepping towards you and kneeling down on the rug on both knees, hugging your legs and resting his head atop your thighs. you just chuckled solemnly, running your fingers through his bedhead.

"don't you have some shoot to go to today, mister?"

"are we really going to do that movie cliche of exes ignoring the elephant in the room after they fuck?" he huffed from below you, moving to sit beside you on the couch, taking the mug and laying it on the glass table.

you had to bite back a chuckle, rolling your eyes at him. "i don't know what you want me to say. last night was good, if that's what you're truly asking."

"yeah like i didn't already know that by how fucked out you were." he snorted, rolling his eyes at you in mock before pulling you on his lap, hands slipping under the shirt to caress your bare skin. "i just want to talk about us, sweetheart."

you stared at him for a moment, lower lip caught between your teeth, pondering whether it would be okay to bare yourself, your heart, to him again.

"i guess i just want to say i'm sorry. in hindsight, what i did was brash but.. i don't know. i got really overwhelmed. so i left, but i realized that i should have just asked for space instead." you smiled, small and just a little bit forced.

"my sweetheart." he frowned, raising a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "no space, and especially no break-up. you could've talked to me about those lame internet trolls. if i knew everything was eating up at you from the inside then i would've—"

"you would've left your dream behind. and i don't want that." you finished his sentence, poking at his soft cheeks. "the runway, the shoots... that's you, sunoo. i knew it even when i was just your friend. i can't take being a star away from you."

"take a look around, y/n. take a look at me." he sighed in exasperation, fingers jabbing at his own chest. "i look miserable without you. you're the reason why i shine. the reason why i do so well! it's only because i have an amazing woman i come home to." he whispered, pulling you down to press a soft kiss on your coffee tinted lips.

the sounds that escaped your lips was sinful and sunoo licked your lower lip before pulling away. "i don't give a fuck about what people say, i'll even post you on my socials if you finally allow it." he grinned, trailing his lips down to your neck.

you pursed your lips and leaned back to restrain both him and yourself before he can leave even more bruises on your skin. you gave him a stern look, arms protectively crossed over your chest. "sun, i'm serious."

sunoo's face dropped, clicking his tongue as he rubbed on his forehead. "darling, i am too. i've had enough of this, i'll retire early— hell, i'll burn all the contracts i have right now, sweetheart. just don't spend another day away from me, hm?"

you can't find the strength to deny him when he looks up at you with the ends of his brow pointed down, hands even pressed together as he pleads. when you roll your eyes and sit on him with your full weight, the brightness returned to sunoo's smile.

"sweetheart?" he whispered, pressing a kiss on your temple. you hummed as a reply and sunoo shifted a little underneath you, voice shy and a little strained. "did you mean it?"

"mean what?"

"that you liked what happened last night?" you froze in your spot, the beats of your heart pricking up at the reminder of what happened right on top of the very couch you're sat on.

"it was... a welcomed change." you reply softly, suddenly becoming shy. you hide your face in his neck and sunoo's giggle reverberates, hands trailing down to pat on your still tender asscheeks.

"that's noted, then. i can fuck you like that whenever you want, and you don't need to break up with me beforehand." he teased and you smacked him across the chest, flushed face sinking further in between his neck and shoulders.

"i kid, sweetheart. but can you promise not to do that again?" he leaned back against the plush material, enough to see your face again. his hands lovingly caressed your cheek and you nod. "i promise."

he kissed your lips briefly and returned your face where it once was, his fingers running up and down your back to soothe you. no cheesy lines, no 'i love you's, no distinct confirmation that you're back together, but you're both settled, knowing what the promise meant.

it's oddly comforting how the two of you can easily go back into your old routines, how the pain of spending a week apart could easily be forgotten once you're held in his arms and spoiled with multiple kisses.

you suppose that's the charm of finding your person. you can withstand having to share parts of him to the cameras and to the rest of to the world, because you know that in it, he brings with himself a part of you— the only part he refuses to let go in the name of love.

꒰ from ! 🐰 yan ꒱⠀⠀ haha so i think i kinda went insane on the smut scene. idk why i thought i could tackle make up sex for my first time writing smut but it's definitely a fun exercise! ALSO meandom!sunoo lovers rise and show yourselves. i need girls who see The Vision on my side. LOL.

⌗ taglist — @mariegibeau @kristynaaah @ikeukiss

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jellywonie · 4 days ago

Text

I’ve Got It From Here ✧.* OT7

pairing: dad!enhypen x tired mom!reader

wc: 5.05k

content: fluff, skinship, comfort, parenting

Lee Heeseung

The kitchen light buzzed softly above you, the hum barely audible over the rustle of cereal spilled on the floor and your toddler wailing because they were given the wrong spoon.

Again.

You stood there, frozen for a moment, eyes glazed over, hand gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping you upright. It had been a long day—a long week, really—and your body had moved on autopilot for so many hours that you couldn’t tell if you were about to cry or pass out.

The front door opened, and you didn’t even look up.

“Baby,” Heeseung’s voice was low and warm, laced with concern, “what happened?”

You exhaled slowly. “She wanted the yellow spoon. I gave her the green one.”

You heard him set his keys down, the shuffle of his shoes. A moment later, his hand was on your back, firm and grounding, and you felt the tension start to dissolve the second he touched you.

“I got it,” he said gently, kissing the side of your head. “Go lie down.”

“But dinner-”

“I’ll order it. Go.”

You turned your head, eyes meeting his. Heeseung wasn’t smiling, not in a teasing way at least, he looked at you like he could see right through the fatigue and into the aching softness beneath it.

“You don’t need to be everything every day,” he said quietly. “Tonight, you rest.”

You didn’t argue. You simply nodded, letting him guide you toward the bedroom with one hand still resting protectively at your back.

Heeseung handled everything.

He scooped your daughter into his arms, whispering something that instantly turned her tantrum into giggles. He picked up the cereal, ordered food, and turned on that animated movie the kids loved but you secretly hated. And after bath time, he sat with them in their room and read three stories—the long ones—because you always did, and he knew it mattered.

And when their eyes got droopy and the room got quiet, he didn’t just tuck them in.

He stayed.

He sat there for a few minutes more, hand brushing over their hair, gaze soft. “Your mom’s amazing,” he whispered to the sleepy little bodies. “She holds the whole world. Be kind to her, okay?”

You didn’t know how long you’d been dozing, just curled up on your side in the dark, but the bed dipped with a familiar weight and you immediately leaned into it.

Heeseung wrapped an arm around you from behind, chest to your back, tucking his face into the curve of your neck.

“You awake?” he murmured.

You hummed.

“Good. I missed you.”

You smiled faintly as his arm pulled you closer. He pressed slow kisses behind your ear, down the side of your jaw. Not urgent, not hungry, just soft. Like he needed to remind you: You’re here. I’m here. We’re okay.

“I ordered your favorite,” he whispered. “You can eat it later, or not at all. I just wanted you to have something that wasn’t crumbs and juice boxes.”

You turned slightly in his hold, enough to face him. He looked at you like you were still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, even with your hair a mess and exhaustion clinging to your features.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, hand finding the curve of his cheek. “I was just so tired today.”

He caught your hand in his and kissed your palm. “You don’t owe me perfect days. You just owe me you.”

You let out a breath, tension finally giving way to warmth.

Heeseung kissed you again, deeper this time, still slow, and then again, softer, until your body began to unwind in his arms. His hands drifted up the back of your shirt, fingers splayed across your bare skin, rubbing gentle circles with the pads of his thumbs.

“I’ll wake up with them tomorrow,” he said against your lips. “You sleep in. I already told them you were on break.”

You snorted softly. “Like that works.”

“It does when Dad bribes them with pancakes and chocolate chips.”

His leg hooked around yours beneath the blankets, his chest pressed close, like he needed to make sure not even air could come between you. He kissed your temple once, then twice, before resting his forehead there.

“You don’t have to hold the whole house together by yourself,” he whispered, voice deep with quiet promise. “I’m here. I’m always here.”

And in the safety of his arms, held like a treasure too valuable to wear down, you finally let yourself fall apart because with Heeseung, you always knew you’d be put gently back together.

Park Jongseong

The day had drained you in every possible way. From sticky fingers smearing peanut butter on the walls to the back-to-back tantrums over socks being “too socky,” you were one spilled cup away from just... sinking into the floor.

And of course, Jay chose that exact moment to walk through the door looking like that: button-up sleeves rolled just right, hair pushed back like he just walked out of a slow-motion commercial for fatherhood. You didn’t have the energy to say anything. Just gave him a look.

He dropped his bag and raised both brows, lips quirking. “Oh, it’s one of those days.”

You blinked slowly. “If I hear the word ‘snack’ one more time, I might legally change my name and flee the country.”

Jay chuckled, low and easy, walking toward you like he had all the time in the world. He stopped in front of you, hands slipping onto your waist as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“You poor thing,” he murmured, soft but playful. “You look hot when you’re on the edge of losing it, though. Really brings out the fire in your eyes.”

You scoffed and tried to step away, but he held you still, gaze flicking over your face with more affection than tease now. “Hey. Sit down, baby. I’ve got this.”

You hesitated.

He leaned in again, this time brushing a kiss to your cheekbone. “I mean it. Go sit. Go nap. Go exist in silence. I’m on duty.”

“…Are you sure?”

Jay grinned, already turning toward the chaos happening somewhere in the hallway. “Please. You forget I’m their favorite when I bribe them.”

And favorite he was.

You heard the moment the kids spotted him, squeals of “DADDY!” echoing through the house. You heard the loud giggle when he did his exaggerated gasp and shouted, “WHO LET GREMLINS IN MY HOUSE?”

He had them eating out of the palm of his hand in minutes. Literally. He made them snacks and let them pretend to feed him like some royal guest at their make-believe restaurant. You listened from the bedroom, the sounds of playful yelling and giggles turning into a bedtime routine that was somehow smoother than when you did it. A little chaotic, still, it was Jay, but full of laughter and love.

And then it got quiet.

You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep so quickly. You stirred as Jay tugged you toward him, your back against his chest, his breath tickling your neck.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured, nuzzling into your hair. “You were out cold.”

“Feels like the first time I’ve breathed all day,” you whispered.

Jay hummed. “That’s ‘cause you don’t let yourself stop. You don’t need to break yourself just to keep everything going.”

“I wasn’t trying to-”

“I know, love.” He rolled you gently onto your back, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look at you properly. “But you gotta let me catch you when you’re falling. That’s the whole point of this thing, remember? You and me. We do it together.”

You looked up at him, in all his quiet strength and easy confidence, his hair a little tousled now, sleeves pushed up to reveal the muscles of someone who could carry the weight of your world if you let him.

He leaned down, kissing you slowly. Not rushed. Not asking for more. Just… anchoring.

“You’re doing amazing,” he whispered against your lips. “And I love you like crazy.”

You let your fingers trail up his chest, resting them over his heart. “Even when I’m a mess?”

“Especially when you’re a mess,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose. “You’re my favorite kind of chaos.”

You laughed, weak but real.

Jay chuckled, settling back beside you and pulling you into him, his hand sliding under the hem of your shirt to rest warm on your back. His leg tangled with yours beneath the covers.

“Sleep,” he whispered. “Tomorrow, I’ll make breakfast.”

You sighed, already slipping under again. “Don’t forget the part where you wear the apron and nothing else.”

Jay smirked, voice low in your ear. “Only if you promise to wake up for that part.”

Sim Jaeyun

The house was quiet, that rare kind of quiet that felt like a luxury.

You leaned back against the couch, legs tucked underneath you, a cup of half-cold tea in your hand that you didn’t remember making. Your muscles ached in that dull, heavy way that came from more than just physical strain, the exhaustion that lived in your bones, behind your eyes.

Jake’s voice drifted in from down the hall, soft and rhythmic. He was reading their bedtime book, the same one your child insisted on every night. You’d almost offered to help, almost out of habit. But then Jake turned to you before disappearing down the hall and said, “You’ve done enough today. Let me take over.”

So you let him.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Then twenty.

Then the gentle sound of footsteps padded down the hallway, and Jake emerged—barefoot, hoodie half-zipped, the softest smile tugging at his lips.

“She’s out like a light,” he said, voice barely above a whisper as he moved toward you. “Didn’t even fight me tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow, impressed. “What magic spell did you cast?”

He grinned. “Just promised she could pick what we have for breakfast tomorrow. I may have... slightly implied it could be ice cream.”

You snorted, eyes rolling. “And you’re surprised she knocked out with a smile?”

Jake shrugged, the smile still tugging at his mouth as he came to stand in front of you. “What can I say? I know how to handle my girls.”

Your heart stuttered, just for a second.

He knelt down in front of you, hands sliding up your calves and gently coaxing your legs to unfold. Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he lifted your feet into his lap and began massaging them, slow, warm pressure that made your head tip back with a groan.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, “marry me.”

Jake beamed. “Already did. Best decision of your life.”

You peeked one eye open. “Arrogant.”

“Confident,” he countered, fingers pressing into the arch of your foot. “You’ve been on your feet all day. Cleaning, chasing, feeding, cuddling, surviving. Let me take care of you now.”

You let your head fall back again. “You’re too good to me.”

Jake leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your knee. “Not possible.”

After a few minutes, he set your feet down gently and climbed onto the couch beside you, tugging you sideways until you were nestled into his chest, legs across his lap, one of his arms cradling you like you weighed nothing.

He brushed your hair back from your face, eyes drinking you in like he hadn’t seen you in weeks instead of hours.

“I don’t tell you enough,” he murmured, voice so soft you almost missed it. “How much I notice. How much I see you doing.”

Your fingers curled into his hoodie. “You tell me.”

“I mean it more every day.”

You blinked slowly, suddenly teetering on that line between exhaustion and comfort, where emotions sat just under the surface. Jake kissed your forehead, then your temple, then your cheek, each one slower than the last.

“You’re not invisible,” he said quietly. “Not to me. Not ever.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. The way you melted against him said everything.

Jake adjusted the blanket over both of you, his hand resting low on your hip, rubbing soft circles through the fabric of your shirt. Then he leaned down and whispered, “You know what’s crazy?”

“What?”

“You look so beautiful right now, I’m actually mad we have a kid in the house.”

You let out a weak laugh, swatting at his chest.

“I’m serious,” he said, laughing too. “You’re tired and soft and kind of grumpy, and it’s driving me insane. I want to bottle this version of you and keep her forever.”

“I’m going to cry.”

“Then cry on me,” he said, lips brushing your forehead again. “That’s what I’m here for.”

You didn’t cry. Not tonight.

You just let yourself be wrapped up in Jake’s arms, warm and still and steady, while the world faded into quiet—knowing, without a single doubt, that in this house, in his heart, you always came first.

Park Sunghoon

It was 8:14 p.m.

There were crayons in the toilet, glitter in someone’s hair (maybe yours), and twin laughter echoing like tiny chaos demons through the hallway. You were on the couch, one sock missing, a sippy cup wedged under your thigh, and the beginning of a headache tapping rhythmically at your temple.

Sunghoon rounded the corner just in time to see one of your boys sprint past shirtless, dragging a cape behind him. The other was giggling under the dining table like he’d just committed a felony.

You didn’t even flinch.

Sunghoon paused. Blinked. Then turned toward you.

“You okay?”

You slowly turned your head, deadpan. “I think they were born with extra lungs. Just for screaming.”

He snorted and walked over, crouching in front of you. “Babe.”

“Hoon.”

“You’re blinking like you’re buffering.”

You blinked again. “They asked for dinner and then didn’t eat it.”

He cupped your cheeks gently. “I’ll handle bedtime. Go lie down.”

“They’re wild tonight. They’ll eat you alive.”

He smirked. “They like me.”

“That’s because you’re the fun parent.”

“Exactly.” He kissed your forehead. “Fun parent’s got it. I’ll bring them in when they’re half-asleep and slightly less feral.”

You were too tired to argue, so you gave him your blessing with a dramatic sigh and collapsed onto the bed, knowing full well you wouldn’t sleep until the storm calmed.

Sunghoon was efficient.

He gave them five more minutes to burn it out. They played dragons vs. dinosaurs (he was the lone unicorn, obviously), then scooped them up one by one and marched them straight to the bathroom. He didn’t care that they got water all over his hoodie during bath time. He didn’t complain when one of them tried to brush his teeth. He just rolled with it.

They clung to him during storytime like little koalas, voices sleepy and hands sticky. Sunghoon read two books, tickled them just enough to make them giggle, then let them curl up in their beds while he hummed softly and rubbed their backs.

By the time he tucked them in, they were out cold.

He stared at them for a second — tiny faces slack with sleep, hair messy, one of them holding onto the sleeve of his shirt even in dreams.

“Little punks,” he whispered with a fond smile, brushing the hair off their foreheads. “You’re lucky your mom loves you.”

You were lying on your side in bed when Sunghoon finally came in, closing the door quietly behind him. The silence felt sacred — rare and soothing.

Without a word, he slid in behind you, pressing a long, warm kiss to your shoulder.

“They’re out,” he murmured into your skin. “I survived. No injuries.”

You smiled tiredly. “You deserve a medal.”

“I’ll settle for cuddles.”

He pulled you closer, one hand slipping under your shirt to splay across your stomach, his touch grounding and gentle.

“I made you some tea. It’s still warm,” he added after a beat.

You turned slightly to face him. “You did?”

He nodded, his forehead resting against yours now. “You looked done. And I know today was... a lot.”

Your hand found his cheek, thumb brushing the skin just below his eye. “Thanks, Hoon.”

His eyes softened even more, like just hearing you say his name like that melted him.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, voice low. “You take care of us every day. Let me be good to you tonight.”

You were quiet for a moment, overwhelmed by how easily he loved you—not through grand gestures, but through the small, steady things. The taking-over. The quiet watching. The way he never let you forget you weren’t alone in this.

Sunghoon kissed you—slow and soft, like he had nowhere else to be.

When he pulled back, his gaze dropped to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “You wanna fall asleep like this?” he asked. “Or you want me to run you a bath first?”

“I just want you to keep touching me.”

He smiled, shy but satisfied, and pressed another kiss to your jaw. “Done.”

He kept his hand under your shirt, rubbing slow circles on your back, pulling you into him like he could shoulder the weight of everything if it meant you could rest. And just before you drifted off, you felt his voice rumble low against your skin:

“Thanks for being their mom. And the love of my life.”

Yang Jungwon

The toddler was mid-meltdown when Jungwon walked in.

Crayons scattered across the kitchen floor. The baby was fussing in your arms. And you… looked like you'd been through the wringer. Hair pulled back in a rush, shirt rumpled from who-knows-how-many nursing sessions, eyes glazed from a whole day of being everything to everyone.

Jungwon didn’t say anything at first.

He calmly stepped over the crayons, scooped your toddler up with one arm, firm but gentle, and leveled him with a quiet, even voice.

“Noah. We don’t throw. You know that.”

Your son sniffled, eyes wide. Jungwon didn’t raise his voice. He never did. He didn’t have to. His steadiness was grounding enough.

“Time-out,” he said softly. “Two minutes. On the step.”

“Nooo-” Jungwon crouched to meet him at eye level, holding him close. “Two minutes. Then we’ll talk. You’re not in trouble. But we don’t throw.”

You watched the exchange from the hallway, newborn tucked into your chest in a wrap, utterly drained.

Once your son was settled—grumbling on the step but staying put—Jungwon walked over and kissed your forehead with reverence. Then he reached for the baby.

“Let me,” he whispered, hands already moving expertly.

You sighed, shifting the wrap as he gently slid your daughter into his arms. She calmed immediately, like she knew.

Jungwon glanced down at her, then back at you. “Go lie down.”

You blinked. “I-”

“I’ll reset everything,” he said, brushing your hair out of your face. “You’ve done enough today. You don’t need to ask. Just go.”

You stared at him, heart aching in that overwhelmed, grateful way that made your eyes sting. He just kissed your cheek, soft and lingering, and turned away to rock the baby while simultaneously keeping an eye on the toddler.

Twenty minutes later, your son was bathed, snuggled in fresh pajamas, and listening intently to Jungwon’s quiet voice reading a bedtime story. Your daughter was asleep against his chest in the wrap now, tucked close like the tiniest secret.

You watched from the hallway, invisible, as Jungwon kissed your son's forehead and whispered, “You're strong, but you need to be kind, too. Just like Mama.”

Your heart throbbed.

When he finally entered your bedroom, both kids down and the house dim, he looked at you like you were the one he’d spent the whole day missing. Carefully, silently, he laid the baby down in her bassinet, then turned toward you.

“Come here,” he whispered.

You didn’t have the energy to stand.

He came to you instead, climbing onto the bed, arms wrapping around your middle with practiced ease. His nose pressed into your neck, his hands rubbing slow, grounding circles into your hips, your stomach, your sides.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“No.”

“Wanna cry?”

“No.”

“Wanna pretend none of this exists for twenty minutes while I rub your back and call you pretty?”

“…Yes.”

He smiled against your shoulder. “Anything for you.”

His hands moved with a gentleness that bordered on worship, his lips brushing your skin as if you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world, because to Jungwon, you were. You were the love of his life, the mother of his children, the reason his whole world had meaning. And when the house quieted and the day finally let go of you, he made it his mission to refill what the world had drained.

“You don’t have to be strong when I’m here,” he murmured. “You just have to let me take care of you.”

You closed your eyes and let his warmth cover you like a blanket, like the kind of love that holds you even when you think you might fall apart.

Jungwon held you tighter.

“You gave everything today,” he whispered, pressing one last kiss to your temple. “So now, I’ll give everything to you.”

Kim Sunoo

The house had been loud all day.

Toys in every corner, snack crumbs in places they shouldn’t be, and tiny voices asking a thousand questions per minute. You loved your kids—loved them more than anything—but today, your body felt like lead and your head throbbed with every step.

You didn’t even realize you were zoning out on the couch until Sunoo’s warm hands gently cupped your cheeks.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice a soft balm. “You look like you’re about to dissolve.”

You gave him a tired smile. “I think I already did.”

He pouted, brushing a thumb over your cheekbone before leaning in for a quick kiss. “Alright. My turn to take the wheel. Go lie down, okay? I got bedtime covered.”

“But they haven’t—”

“I got it, love.”

There was something so sure in his tone that you didn’t argue. You mumbled a weak “thank you” and shuffled toward the bedroom while he turned toward the mini tornadoes that were your children.

“Alright,” he sang, instantly slipping into his sunshine mode. “It’s time for our favorite part of the night: Shadow Puppet Theater!”

You could hear the collective squeals from down the hall.

Lying in bed, you let the sound of giggles and Sunoo’s exaggerated storytelling lull your tired nerves. You pictured it clearly in your mind: him holding a flashlight behind his hand, forming a wobbly duck on the wall, narrating a silly story about a duck that wanted to be a ballerina.

The laughter softened gradually, the stories slowed, and eventually, there was quiet. Peaceful, warm quiet.

You must’ve dozed off, because the next thing you felt was the bed dipping beside you, followed by the weight of familiar arms wrapping around your waist.

Sunoo pressed a kiss to your temple. “They’re asleep,” he whispered, voice low in the dark. “I did the monster hands, the bunny, and even the dragon. Your son asked if the dragon was based on you when you’re mad.”

You snorted softly into the pillow.

He laughed too, his breath brushing your neck. “They asked where you were, and I said, ‘Mommy’s resting because she’s the strongest one in the house.’ And you know what your daughter said?”

You hummed.

“She said, ‘That’s right. She has to fight all the scary things and fold our socks.’” He laughed again. “Folding socks, babe. That’s your legacy.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips.

Sunoo’s hand found yours under the blanket, fingers slipping between yours, warm and steady. “You don’t have to do it all,” he whispered. “Not alone. Not ever.”

You turned slightly to face him, eyes still half-lidded with exhaustion. “You’re too good to me.”

He scrunched his nose and kissed your forehead. “Nope. I’m just good for you. Big difference.”

You let out a tired chuckle, then sighed softly as your head nestled into the crook of his neck. He adjusted the blanket around you, shifting to make more space before wrapping both arms around you and tugging you flush against him.

His hands rubbed slow, circular patterns across your back, just under the hem of your shirt where your skin was warm and soft. “You’ve been tense all day,” he mumbled against your hair, his voice now lower, laced with concern. “Let me take care of you.”

You felt his lips brush over your temple, then trail a few slow kisses down to your cheek, lingering there.

“You did everything today. You always do,” he whispered. “And even when you’re tired, you still hold this whole house together.”

Your hand found its way up to his chest, resting over his heartbeat. “It’s only because I have you.”

Sunoo smiled into your skin. “Yeah, but tonight—just be held, okay? No expectations. Just this.”

His fingers traced gentle lines up and down your spine, his touch grounding you in the safest way. He pressed another kiss to your cheek, then one to your collarbone, and when your breath hitched slightly from the comfort of it all, he just held you tighter, like he could ground you in his warmth.

You burrowed deeper into his chest, letting your body fully melt into his. His legs tangled with yours, bare skin brushing under the covers, his arms a protective cocoon around your waist.

“Mm, that’s better,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “You’re always doing so much, baby. You deserve softness too.”

You didn’t answer with words—just with the way you exhaled slowly, the way your body finally stopped resisting rest and sagged completely into his.

Sunoo kept holding you even after your breathing evened out, still brushing your lower back with the pads of his fingers, still kissing the crown of your head between each soft whisper.

“I love you,” he breathed. “More than sleep. And that says a lot.”

You didn’t respond.

You were already asleep, safe in his arms—and for tonight, that was all you needed.

Nishimura Riki

The baby had been crying for what felt like forever.

Your head was pounding, your back ached, and your shirt had a mysterious stain you couldn’t even remember earning. Somewhere in the haze of burping and bottle-feeding and rocking and panic-Googling, you’d sunk into the couch, bleary-eyed, with your arms wrapped around a finally quiet, but fidgety, newborn boy.

Ni-ki came out of the bedroom with his hoodie half on, hair sticking up from where he’d been trying to sneak in a nap. He took one look at your face — pale, drained, hanging on by a thread — and his expression softened instantly.

“Babe.”

You didn’t even look at him.

“I think he hates me,” you mumbled, looking down at the baby, who was now blinking up at you like he hadn’t just screamed for thirty minutes straight. “Or maybe I’m just not good at this.”

Ni-ki walked over and gently pried the baby from your arms. “Don’t even start with that.”

You let your arms drop, hollow with exhaustion. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Neither do I,” he said, cradling your son with a casual confidence that made you want to cry. “But you’re still the best mom on the planet.”

“Liar.”

“Truth-teller,” he said, then grinned. “Also sleep-deprived. But mostly truth-teller.”

The baby started fussing again, a tiny cry that usually triggered instant panic in both of you — but not this time. Ni-ki just rocked him with one arm, bouncing slightly on his heels, humming a soft, off-key melody while glancing at you.

“You need a shower,” he said gently. “And ten hours of sleep. And food.”

You gave him a look. “I’ll settle for one of those.”

He turned toward the hallway. “Go. I got him.”

“Ni-ki, he hasn’t gone down all day—”

“I know,” he said, raising a brow. “I’ve been here, remember?”

You hesitated, watching him sway with your son like he was born doing it.

“You sure?”

He shot you a crooked smile. “Babe, I’ve survived dance practices that lasted longer than this baby’s meltdowns. I can handle it.”

You stared a second longer, then finally caved — dragging yourself toward the bathroom like a zombie.

By the time you stepped back out, warm and clean and in one of Ni-ki’s hoodies, the house was mostly dark. The crying had stopped. The living room was a mess, but the soft hum of a lullaby was playing somewhere nearby.

And there, in the rocking chair, sat Ni-ki — hoodie haphazardly pulled over his head, hair flopped in his eyes, and your baby fast asleep against his chest.

His hand was splayed protectively over the tiny back, his thumb rubbing in slow, absentminded circles. He looked up when he saw you and smiled — tired, but proud.

“Success,” he whispered.

You stood there for a second, then crossed the room and dropped onto the couch beside him, curling into his side.

He looked down at you. “You okay?”

“I think so.”

“You wanna cry?”

“Already did.”

He kissed the top of your head. “Good. That’s healthy.”

You laughed softly, eyes fluttering shut as his free hand moved to your thigh, squeezing gently.

“You’re really good at this,” you murmured. “Even though we’re… you know. Still young ourselves.”

He smiled, looking down at your sleeping son. “We’re just kids raising a kid.”

“And we’re exhausted.”

“And underqualified.”

“And still figuring it out.”

He leaned over and pressed his forehead to yours. “But we’ve got each other.”

You sighed, hand slipping into his hoodie pocket, fingers lacing with his. “And him.”

He looked down at the baby again. “Our little noise machine.”

Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled. “He looks like you.”

“I was cuter.”

“You were louder.”

He grinned. “True.”

Then he reached down and kissed you.

“We’ll get through this,” he whispered against your lips. “Okay?”

You nodded, sinking into him, letting yourself finally breathe. Because somehow, through the chaos and the crying and the late-night doubts, Ni-ki was still the same: steady, golden-hearted, and absolutely yours.

275 notes · View notes

sunooslover · 2 days ago

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PAIRING: OT7 x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you rant to your boyfriend but he's distracted.

MDNI!!! 18+

162 notes · View notes

mlkt35925 · 6 days ago

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would you fall in love with me again?

𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝒋𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆 𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒂-𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔 & 𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒍𝒆𝒂 - 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏

centuries later, you're all he remembers, and he hopes that some day, he'll be able to see you again, even if it's just for a second.

vampire! enha

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 2,530 (340-390 per member)

𝒂/𝒏: was listening to wyfilwma and thought of vamp enha and then this was made lol enjoy! not proofread so apologies for any mistakes

heeseung 李羲承

vampires aren't real, or so they say. but heeseung is a living testimony to that statement.

he of all people knows that attachment is an immortal's greatest downfall, that the second he starts clinging onto the past, he'd become a shell of himself. yet, there's one thing, or rather one person, he can never seem to let go off.

he remembers you like the morning, laying next to him, your warmth against his chill, and he remembers when your skin was as cold as his and his grief was all consuming.

he misses you, he knows this will never change. but this is his punishment.

it's on a cool spring day his world changes.

the bar is particularly lively, drunk people laughing and dancing without a care in the world. he's content just watching, the burn of alcohol the only warmth he's been familiar with for the last few centuries. it's like any other day, until someone takes a seat next to him.

heeseung wouldn’t usually bat an eye. he's used to women flirting, never one to entertain them. but tonight, the person sitting next to him feels different, familiar, like the feeling of knowing you're coming home.

he takes a tentative side-glance, prepared for disappointment, but he's greeted with you looking at him expectantly, almost like you were just waiting for him to notice you. he thanks whatever god that he's not holding a glass, because he's sure it would've slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor. a flood of emotions that he could never name pours over him, his chest tight but so, so full of relief.

your name slips from his lips like instinct, a prayer he could never say out loud. you smile like you never left.

“hi heeseung,” you take his hand in yours, enveloping him in the warmth he has yearned for for centuries on end. “i'm yours, again.”

he doesn't deserve you, he knows that much. but he'd be damned, more than he already is, if he lived without you again.

(rest of the members under the cut!)

jay 朴综星

jay knows pain. he is intimately familiar with the physical ache, the feeling and sight of himself being ripped apart, and the ache that exists only as a phantom, no evidence of its existence; of the two, the physical pain is far easier to bear.

vampires remember. he remembers like the back of his hand when you died in his arms, where he buried you with his own hands, the bright sky that was unfitting of the overwhelming grief that wracked his soul. he remembers every single day after that, of loneliness that would never be resolved and an emptiness that would never be filled.

winter comes again like it always does. the sun sets early and darkness shrouds the city faster than what most prefer. he's one of those exceptions, because the sun only seems to serve as a reminder of that day all those centuries ago.

the sun is setting and people are rushing home. you always liked watching the sun set. jay was never one to care much for such ephemeral sights, their permanence turning them into a predictable daily occurrence, but you always found them so beautiful that he couldn't help but grow a little fond of them too. he thinks you would love this sunset.

so enraptured by the orange sky, he wasn't paying attention to the people around him and ended up harshly bumping into someone. apologies instinctively spilled from his lips as he recovered from the brief disorientation, until he took a proper look at the person he bumped into.

you, looking at him with a grin, the rays of the sunset colouring you in warmth.

all of a sudden, he's back to seeing you dead in his arms, buried in the forest you loved most, an unspoken goodbye on his lips.

“are you real?” he asks with a small voice. “please tell me you're real.”

you take his hand and place it on your neck, at the spot he loved most, and the pulsing of your veins tells him all he ever yearned for most.

jake 沈载伦

times change, and so do people. jake has witnessed it all, and he remains the same as he was all those years ago. only, he's lonelier than ever.

he sees you in most parts of his day, in the gentle glow of the moon, the light drizzle of the rain, the white clouds moving across the sky. he thinks, he knows, that you would love the sight of it all, because that was just the kind of person you were.

he wonders what it would be like if you were still alive, if he had turned you into a vampire like him. sure, maybe he wouldn't have felt so lonely if at all, but what about you? could you have withstood all of humanity's changes, to watch what you once were and could never be again, and not lost yourself?

would you have given up mortality for his irredeemable sin?

there's no use pondering these questions. he would never suggest something like that to you, let alone do it. he wouldn't be able to bear watching you become a shell of yourself, knowing he was the cause of it. it was easier to let you go, to leave you behind and pray that you would forget him.

fate, however, has a funny way of working.

jake doesn't want to believe it's you, at first. there's no way it could be. you've been dead for so long, so sure reincarnation was another myth that humans made to comfort themselves, but against his beliefs, against everything he has ever known, you're there, looking at him, waiting for him.

his mind tells him that he's hallucinating, that he's truly starting to spiral, but everything else, his instincts, his soul, tells him that it's you, unquestionably and so surely that he wants it to be so, so badly.

he's stuck in his spot, rooted in an internal battle between mind and heart, trying so hard to prepare himself for what he thinks is just a fantasy, when your hand caresses his cheek and he melts all over again.

sunghoon 朴成训

sunghoon is used to the bitter cold. he prefers it, even, because heat reminds him of what he lost, of what he can never have again.

heat reminds him of the humanity he gave up, of the mortality he has forgotten the feeling of. heat reminds him of the fire that tore his life apart, a blazing orange and red that lit up the dark sky. most of all, heat reminds him of you, your touches, and the lack of your existence.

he's used to it by now, learned to set his dislike aside and walk amongst human. he feels like a fraction of who he used to be, lost to the greed of time and the madness of immortality and the taste of iron. who was he anymore, really?

you would be sad to see him in such a state, to see him devoid of happiness and in perpetual pain. knowing you, you would try to ease his burdens and even offer yourself to be his meals, but he could never do that to you. even vampires don't hurt the ones they love.

still, he wishes you were here. it's a selfish desire, made in the desperation for love, but it's a wish, as hopeless as it is, nonetheless. he knows nothing will ever change, and he'll be just as empty as he was yesterday.

he's alone on the streets in the dead of the night. he has no need to feed, but the dropping temperature makes it hard for him to want to stay inside.

you would enjoy this weather too, he thinks, staring at the empty sky. you always did prefer the cold over the heat. you would -

a sudden crunch of dry leaves snaps him out of his daydreams. he tenses, ready to defend himself, when a voice so familiar fills his ears and his heart.

“sunghoon? it's you, isn't it?” there you stand, the brightest star in his sky, looking at him like you were always searching for him to complete you like you do for him.

for the first time in a long, long while, sunghoon finds comfort in heat.

sunoo 金善宇

“will you find me again?”

“always.”

sunoo feels like a liar. how long has it been since he made you that promise, since he last held you in his arms?

he tried, he swears. every single day, hour, minute was spent looking for a hint of you, and he knows that if there even was a wisp of you he would've known, he would've felt it. but what kills him is that not once did he have that feeling, and he's starting to think that maybe he's starting to forget you.

he refuses that notion, however. he refuses to forget you, because it would truly ruin him. he's already had to live centuries without you, and if those memories of you that he holds so dear were to disappear, he's afraid that he may finally give in to his vampiric instincts and turn into something that even he could no longer recognise.

everyday he reminisces about you, unable to part with the thought of you. regret has come to be the most familiar emotion he's felt these days, always wondering if he was just a second too late. how long have you been waiting for him? did you miss him, or have you left him in your past?

sunoo thinks he's reached his breaking point, that he's started to grieve so deeply that his mind has started to conjure up images of you in his life.

he sees you walking towards him, looking like a day hasn't passed since you parted. you even wear the ring he had gifted you as both a promise and protection, sat snuggly on your left ring finger like he placed it there himself. he laughs to himself, bitter and pained, and closes his eyes. he doesn't want to see this hallucination anymore.

but hallucinations don't have material forms. hallucinations don't have bodies, they can't touch or be touched… so, why is it that he can feel someone's hand on his?

his eyes open, and there you are, real and tangible and everything he's ever dreamed of, and tears spill down his cheeks before he even knows why.

“looks like i found you instead, sun.” you smile and hold him, an embrace he cherishes so dearly he couldn't imagine ever letting go.

jungwon 梁祯元

jungwon remembers, perhaps a little too clearly, the day you were ripped away from him. he remembers every single second of it, from the morning of the day to the very moment you were torn away from him, and the overwhelming helplessness that filled his entire being as he could do nothing but watch.

in some ways, he's glad that you weren't there to watch him lose control, to tear open their throats and shower himself in their blood. such a sight would have traumatised you, and he loves you too much to ever subject you to that.

he doesn't regret killing all those people. he only regrets not being stronger, that the last memory you have of him was him at his weakest. but there's nothing he can do about it anymore.

a part of him still believes in fate, that he will be able to hold you again, yet as each year passes by, the part grows smaller and smaller until even he doesn't believe in it anymore. you're dead and gone, and he's still stuck here, paying the price for his regret and his vengeance.

jungwon makes it a point to visit the grave he had made for you at least twice a week, if not to clean it then to just sit in its presence. the memory of the grave's creation is a blur, a mess of desperation and a grief so profound he couldn't find peace in anything except this.

it stands surrounded by flowers, carefully maintained, a grave for himself next to it, a funeral he held for his humanity. quietly, he sits across, staring into the granite as if you would suddenly appear. he wishes and wishes, and while nothing ever happens, he chooses to wish again.

this time is different.

his ears pick up the sound of someone walking on the grass. with a wary demeanour, he stands, and glances at the direction of the sound. the sight knocks the breath out of his lungs, and he feels like he could collapse.

“jungwon…” you barely manage to say before he buries his face into your neck, holding onto you as if you could disappear at any moment. tears line his eyes as he looks at you, a broken smile on his face.

“you're just as beautiful as the day i lost you.”

ni-ki 西村力

ni-ki often finds himself stuck in the past, remembering simpler times. back when he was still riki, when you were by his side.

you were always fascinated by the idea of soulmates ever since you learned about them, never failing to bring it up every other conversation. he didn't mind, not really, because he loved hearing you talk, and although he wasn't one to be as sappy as you, he couldn't deny that he liked the idea of being the only one for you.

you were in a particularly sentimental mood one day, he remembers, asking him if he would love you in your next lives, or if he would move on. his answer was instantaneous. there would only ever be you for him, and if he couldn't find you, then he would wait, however long it would take.

all these centuries later, and he kept his word.

perhaps some part of it is guilt, guilt for being the cause of your death. had he been able to control his thirst, you could've lived longer, and he wouldn't have been the reason you died before you got to live.

still, selfishly, he hangs on to the concept of soulmates, that he would find you again and repent. that he could tell you he was sorry, that he wishes he had died instead of you. but there's nothing he can do, not then, not now, and maybe not ever.

there's a sweet scent in the air that ni-ki finds all too familiar. it's a cruel joke, he thinks. it must be, because there's only one scent that he knows to be this enchantingly sweet, and it's none other than yours.

it stops him in his tracks and he wants nothing more than to run to scent’s origin, to you, but the regret in his heart still him. he doesn't deserve you, not after he ripped your throat out and treated you like a piece of meat.

he turns away from the direction of the scent and walks, determined to get away, when a hand reaches out for his and pulls him back.

“riki,” your voice soothes his soul in a way he had nearly forgotten, his words stuck in his throat.

“i found you again.” and he shatters, all over again.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #ni ki x reader

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nocturnebite · 5 days ago

Text

Sweet Surveillance

Sunoo x Fem!Reader | Beautiful Obsession

THE PRELUDE── He's soft-spoken, all gentle glances and polite smiles. The kind of neighbor who always seems to be there when you need him— or.. even when you don't.

Caution: slight NSFW MDNI. dark romance · obsessive love masked as care · possessive “sweetheart” energy · toxic protectiveness · delusional attachment · soft boy facade · gaslight · gatekeep wc: 7.4k ⤷ Dark Romance Series

Your new apartment is quiet in a way that isn't peaceful.

It’s the kind of quiet that makes your ears ring. The kind that clings to the corners of the ceiling and hums just beneath the lights. You’ve only been here a few days, and already you’ve learned that it has a particular silence—one that feels just slightly occupied. Not loud. Not sinister. Just... present.

The walls are too thin. The halls too narrow. Everything echoes too easily. You hear your own footsteps more than anyone else’s.

But there is someone else.

A presence across the hall. Unit 4B.

You caught his name in passing—on a delivery left by mistake at your door. Kim Sunoo printed in clean, careful handwriting on a beige label. You were tempted to knock and return it. But when you leaned close, you heard music inside. Faint. Rhythmic. Too soft to name, but enough to keep you from intruding.

That was the first time.

The second was in the stairwell—he passed you on the landing without a word. AirPods tucked into his ears. Hoodie pulled up tight. His hair was pale, almost gold in the right light, and fell just below his brows, which were sharp and unreadable. His gaze didn’t land on you. Didn’t even glance. He stepped past you like you were smoke.

It wasn’t rude, exactly.

But it didn’t sit right either.

You told yourself it was fine. Some people are just like that. Quiet. Private. Focused. And really, it didn’t matter. You weren’t here to make friends. The apartment was temporary. A pit stop in a messy, uncharted part of your life. No expectations. No drama. No attachments.

Still… he stayed in your mind longer than he should have.

There was something unusual about him—something too put-together for a place like this. You’d seen him leave once in the early morning, dressed all in black with a long coat draped over his arm. He looked expensive. Almost misplaced. Like he belonged somewhere colder, cleaner, and far more beautiful than this peeling-walled building with the flickering hall lights.

You didn’t expect to see him again.

But of course, you did.

It happens on a Thursday.

You’ve just come back from a grocery run, key already in hand, paper bags cutting into your palms. You’re flushed from the stairs, slightly sweaty, frustrated at yourself for not making two trips. And then—

His door opens.

You freeze instinctively. Something about the timing, the precision of it, hits wrong. You don’t mean to look. You really don’t. But he steps out like something pulled by a string. Controlled. Intentional.

His hoodie is down this time.

You take in the soft blonde hair, pale and fine like silk, tucked behind a silver earring. His skin is pale, but not dull—it glows. Reflects light like the inside of a seashell. And then—finally—he glances your way.

It’s not dramatic. Not sharp.

Just a glance.

But this time, it lands.

His eyes are a soft brown. Not icy, not distant like you'd imagined. There’s no smirk. No twitch of amusement or recognition. He just looks at you for a moment. Like someone seeing a painting they forgot they already knew.

And then, almost imperceptibly—he nods.

You nod back. A little startled. A little breathless.

He steps past you again, this time slower. He smells like something clean. Tea, maybe. Or linen. Something soft. The scent drifts after him.

You’re still standing in front of your door long after he’s gone.

That night, you leave your window open.

The wind is sharp but soft. The kind that plays with your curtains instead of ripping them off the rod. You lie in bed with your sheets tangled around your legs, watching the streetlights flicker. The air smells like rain.

And for no reason at all, you think of him.

Of his gaze. His posture. The way he looked at you like nothing at all—and somehow made you want to be something.

You close your eyes, annoyed at yourself.

It’s nothing.

You don’t even know him.

But something about the building feels different after that.

It’s not obvious. Not something you could prove or explain. But you feel it. In your bones. In your skin. You start keeping your front door double-locked, even when you’re home. Not because you feel unsafe exactly… just because you feel noticed.

Watched.

Sometimes, walking through the hallway, you get the faintest prickle across the back of your neck. Like someone just looked away. Like someone was there, and isn’t anymore.

It should bother you more than it does.

But weirdly—it makes you feel less alone.

The fourth time you see him, it’s you who speaks first.

You’re both coming up the stairs, opposite directions. He’s ahead of you, but pauses on the landing like he hears your steps behind him. He turns slightly as you catch up. No hoodie today. Just a sweater, charcoal gray and soft at the sleeves. His collarbones peek just slightly above the neckline.

“Hey,” you say, a little breathless. “I think I’ve seen you more than my own friends this week.”

He blinks at you.

For a second, you think he might ignore it. That he’s going to keep walking, maybe nod again, maybe give you that unreadable flicker of acknowledgment and nothing else.

But then something shifts.

He smiles. It’s small. Barely there. But the change is so immediate it stuns you.

His voice is soft. Smoother than it has any right to be.

“I guess that makes us neighbors now,” he says. “Does that mean I should say hi properly?”

He extends a hand. You take it without thinking. His palm is warm.

“Sunoo,” he says gently. “I live in 4B.”

“I know,” you say before you can stop yourself.

His smile twitches at the corners.

“I figured.”

And that’s the moment—right there.

That flicker in his eyes.

Something shifts behind the softness. Not unkind. Not cruel. But alert. Like a door opening. Like a hook catching something it didn’t expect to find.

Like he just realized something very useful.

You.

—

You wake up to the quiet hum of Sunday morning. Sunlight drips in through the blinds like warm syrup, soft and hazy. The apartment is still unfamiliar, but it’s starting to smell like you now—clean laundry, coconut shampoo, and the faint trace of the incense you lit two nights ago.

You’re barefoot in the kitchen when there’s a knock at the door. Three polite taps. Not urgent. Not hesitant. Just… intentional.

You tug the oversized cardigan tighter around your waist and glance through the peephole out of habit. A pale blur of blonde hair and porcelain skin waits on the other side. Sunoo.

Your heart hiccups—why is he here?

You open the door slowly, your voice cautious but warm. “Hey?”

He stands there holding a Tupperware container with both hands, like it might break if he shifts his grip even slightly. He’s dressed more casually than usual—just a soft black hoodie and faded jeans, sleeves pushed up to reveal delicate wrists. His hair looks fluffier, less styled, like he just rolled out of bed.

“I realized I never gave you a proper welcome,” he says, almost sheepishly. His tone is different this time—less distant. “I made too much last night.”

You blink. “Oh… wow, thank you. That’s really sweet.”

Sunoo gives a small nod, and his lips pull into something barely resembling a smile—gentle but unreadable. You’re still not sure what to make of him. There’s something about the way he looks at you—steady and unblinking, but not aggressive. Just curious. Studying you like a painting in a museum. Not touching. Not speaking unless you do first.

You shift awkwardly. “Do you want to come in for a second? I was just about to make tea.”

There’s a pause. A pause that shouldn’t feel charged, but somehow does. Then, softly, he says, “Sure.”

He steps inside, his presence subtle but oddly commanding, like he belongs in quiet spaces. You motion toward the kitchen and he follows without a sound, gaze flickering over your books stacked in haphazard piles, the shoes by the door, the crooked frame you haven’t gotten around to fixing yet. He notices everything. You feel it.

As you move to fill the kettle, you catch him watching your hands. Not in a weird way—just… noticing. He doesn’t speak until you ask him what kind of tea he likes.

“Chamomile,” he says. “If you have it.”

You do. You hand him a mug a few minutes later, and when your fingers brush, his flinch is almost imperceptible—like even the smallest touch is a surprise he wasn’t braced for. But then he thanks you with that same velvet voice that doesn’t match his guarded exterior. It throws you a little. Every time.

You sit across from him on the couch with your own tea, knees brushing for the briefest second before you tuck your leg beneath you. He doesn’t fill the silence right away. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable with it either.

Then finally—

“How are you liking the place so far?”

It’s the first time he’s asked anything about you directly. His voice is low, smooth, the kind of tone that would make you second-guess every bad first impression you had of him.

You shrug, swirling your mug. “It’s good. Still feels new. A little quiet at night.”

Sunoo tilts his head. “That’s not always a bad thing.”

You glance at him. “Sometimes I swear I hear things, though. Not like—creepy stuff. Just weird noises.”

He hums in thought. “Old buildings are like that.”

There’s something careful in the way he says it. And something about how your eyes meet in that moment—something long, quiet, still—makes you look away too quickly. You pretend to be interested in your tea, the steam warming your face, the quiet creak of the floorboards when he shifts slightly beside you.

Eventually, he stands.

“I should let you get back to your morning. Just wanted to drop that off.”

You walk him to the door. “Thanks again, Sunoo.”

And he pauses in the doorway. His expression softens, and this time, the smile is fuller—almost kind.

“I’m right next door,” he says, more gently than he ever has before. “If you ever need anything.”

Then he disappears down the hall.

You close the door slowly, feeling the warmth of his presence still lingering like steam on your skin. There’s a new softness in your chest, but also… a faint prickle between your shoulder blades, like someone had just been standing behind you a little too long.

—

It happens a few days later.

You’re fumbling with your keys and three overloaded grocery bags when one rips at the bottom, cans clattering dramatically across the hallway like rogue marbles. One rolls right up to a familiar pair of black slippers.

You freeze, mid-crouch. Then look up.

Sunoo’s standing there again. No sound of a door opening. No footsteps. Just… him. Silent as always. That unreadable expression hovering on his face, somewhere between concern and mild amusement.

“Need help?” he asks.

There’s a beat of hesitation before you nod. “Yeah, I—thank you. That bag was cheap.”

Without another word, he kneels beside you, scooping up the cans neatly, organizing them as if he’s done this with you a hundred times. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t crowd you either. His movements are graceful, quiet. Controlled.

You catch yourself glancing at his profile again—the sharp line of his jaw, the gentle curve of his mouth. He smells faintly like something herbal and warm. His hoodie sleeve rides up again as he moves, and you notice a delicate gold bracelet around his wrist. Thin. Barely visible. But clearly intentional.

You don’t comment on it.

When everything’s back in place, you both rise, and you’re standing closer than you expected to be. His eyes flicker to your mouth, just briefly. Then back to your eyes.

“Thanks again,” you murmur, shifting your weight awkwardly.

Sunoo shakes his head slowly. “You get used to living alone eventually.”

You tilt your head. “You live alone too?”

He nods, but doesn’t elaborate.

You think about asking him more—but instead, you glance toward your apartment.

“You want a drink or something? I have sparkling water.”

He pauses just slightly too long.

“No, but thank you.”

Another polite refusal. But his voice is still smooth, still low, still honeyed. And somehow… still feels like he wants to stay. He just won’t let himself.

You smile softly, almost teasing. “Maybe next time.”

He gives a slight shrug. “Maybe.”

—

It’s late one evening when the lights flicker—twice—before everything goes dark.

You stand frozen in your kitchen, phone flashlight barely cutting through the sudden silence. The building groans under the shift in electricity. You try to laugh it off, but the quiet is too deep, the shadows too thick. That weird feeling creeps up your spine again—that feeling of being seen when you’re not looking.

You open your door and step into the hall, unsure why you even do it.

He’s already there. Just standing by his door.

His silhouette is soft in the dim hallway emergency light, casting strange shapes behind him. He’s in a loose white T-shirt this time, slightly wrinkled, collar loosely stretched. He looks… normal. Domestic. Like someone you could see folding laundry and humming to a record player. Not this strange, ghostlike presence.

“Hey,” you say cautiously. “Is the whole floor out?”

Sunoo nods, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “Generator’s slow. It happens sometimes.”

You chew the inside of your cheek. “I hate when it gets this quiet.”

A small beat passes. And then: “Want to sit by my window?” he offers. “It faces the streetlights. Not as dark.”

You blink, startled.

“Yeah,” you say, before you really think it through. “Actually, yeah. That sounds… nice.”

His apartment smells like sandalwood and something subtle and citrusy. The lighting is just enough to see—the soft orange spill of the streetlamps leaking in from the windows, reflecting off the hardwood floors. You sit on the small loveseat by the glass, your knees close again. He sits across from you on the floor, back against the wall, one arm resting on a raised knee.

It’s silent for a while. Not uncomfortable. Just… full.

You take a slow sip of water from the glass he handed you. You glance at the way the glow catches his eyelashes, how long and pretty they are. You wonder how he’s still a mystery, even when he’s right here.

“You always this quiet?” you ask suddenly, voice low.

Sunoo’s eyes lift to meet yours. They’re darker in the low light.

“Only when I’m listening.”

You blink. “Listening to what?”

He shrugs. “People. Things they don’t say.”

You look at him for a moment too long. He doesn’t look away.

You don’t know what to say to that.

—

It’s a week later. You’ve fallen asleep on the couch with a blanket half-draped over you, some documentary still playing in the background. You wake with a start around 2 a.m., skin prickling. That same subtle sense—like something just brushed past your window. Something just off.

You sit up. Listen.

Nothing.

But you don’t fall back asleep.

The next day, you catch Sunoo by the mailboxes. He’s leaning slightly against the wall, typing something on his phone, hoodie sleeves covering his hands. You approach cautiously.

“Hey.”

His head lifts.

“I’ve been getting this weird feeling lately,” you say, trying to keep your voice light, but there’s a note of tension you don’t bother hiding. “Like someone’s watching me. I know it sounds stupid.”

He studies you a second too long.

“It doesn’t sound stupid.”

Your eyes meet. Something in his expression shifts—subtle, but real. He straightens.

“I have extra security cameras. Small ones. Barely visible. I can help you set one up outside your door or inside if you want.”

Your brows lift. “Really?”

He nods. “I’d feel better if you had them.”

You don’t miss the way he says I’d feel better. Not you.

You pause. “Okay… yeah. That might actually make that feeling go away.”

He gives a soft, single nod. And for the first time, when he smiles, it’s not just polite—it’s warm. Almost bashful.

Like maybe this is his way of letting you in.

—

Sunoo arrives at your door the next day with a small toolkit and two slim white camera boxes tucked under his arm. He knocks softly against your door. Almost quiet enough to go unheard.

You open the door before he knocks again.

He’s dressed down again—oversized hoodie, soft sweatpants, hair still a little damp like he just stepped out of a shower. There’s a clean, powdery scent clinging to him. Something soft. Familiar.

“Hope this isn’t a bad time,” he says, already slipping inside without waiting for an answer.

You step aside, watching him set the toolkit down neatly by the shoe rack. His movements are careful, deliberate, and somehow quiet. He doesn’t disturb the space. Just fits into it.

“It’s fine,” you murmur, still caught in the strange gentleness of him. “Thanks for doing this.”

He glances up, his mouth tilting in a small smile. “I said I’d help.”

You trail behind as he crouches by the door, pulling the first camera from its box. He explains softly how it works, where the blind spots are, how the motion alert can ping your phone. His voice is a little more casual now—less like he’s choosing every word, more like he’s talking to you, not just responding.

“Most people ignore this corner,” he says, tapping just above the doorframe. “But it’s where people linger. Especially if they’re unsure.”

“Unsure?” you echo.

He looks at you. “If they’re deciding whether or not to knock.”

There’s a weight to that. A tone you can’t read. You feel it thud low in your chest and try not to show it.

After an hour, the setup is done. Sunoo’s hands brush lightly against yours when he passes you the app login.

“Let me know if anything feels off. I’ll check the footage for you.”

You raise a brow. “What, like my personal tech support now?”

He grins, and it’s the first time you’ve seen it—really seen it. Not the polite curl of lips, but something brighter. Quieter. More real.

“I’m just around,” he says simply.

And he is.

“Just around”

That phrase proves truer than you expect.

You start to notice it. Every time you step into the hallway, he’s already there. Sometimes leaning against the stair rail. Sometimes by the mailbox. Sometimes just… unlocking his door at the same moment you unlock yours.

The first few times, it feels like coincidence. The next few, you wonder if it’s habit. But after a while… it starts to feel deliberate.

Not creepy. Not yet. Just… consistent.

You begin to expect him. Worse—you start looking for him.

Like when you’re carrying a laundry basket and turn the corner—he’s there, pulling open the basement door for you without a word.

Or when you’re stuck balancing your phone between your shoulder and your cheek, keys fumbling at the lock—and he’s suddenly at your side, unlocking it for you with your spare key you didn’t remember giving him.

“Don’t ask how I got it,” he says, voice light, almost teasing.

But he doesn’t smile this time. Just looks at you—really looks—like he’s daring you to question it.

You don’t.

You start hearing him when he’s not there.

You’ll glance over a shoulder while walking home, and his voice will echo: “Always walk the lit way back. Avoid the alley, even if it’s faster.”

You hesitate at your stove, wondering if you left the heat too high, and remember him saying: “You space out when you cook. Be careful.”

You roll over in bed one morning, phone clutched in hand, and see a new notification: Sunoo: You slept late today. Everything okay?

You never told him your schedule. But somehow, he knows it better than you do.

He’s not cold anymore. His voice has started to carry something different—warmth, even affection. He jokes more. Makes small, quiet observations about you, like he’s been studying you this whole time.

“You always chew your bottom lip when you’re concentrating.”

“You play music but never sing along. Why?”

“You only cry when no one’s looking. That’s not very fair to you.”

You stare at him sometimes, wondering how he notices these things. Wondering why no one else ever did. Wondering what it means that you don’t mind.

One night, he lingers in your doorway, the conversation about nothing stretching too long. You lean against the doorframe. He leans against the opposite side. Your arms nearly brush.

He looks at you for a long moment.

“You sleep better when someone else is here, don’t you?”

You feel your breath catch. “What?”

He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. Just repeats, softer: “You sleep better with company.”

You don’t answer. But he smiles, slow and quiet, like you just said yes anyway.

—

It’s not sudden—just... natural.

One day he’s watching a movie with you on your tiny couch, and the next he’s reaching into your cabinet for a mug like it’s his own. He knows which shelf you keep your honey on. Which drawer hides the lighters for your candles. You never told him, but he always finds what he’s looking for.

You should mind. You think you should mind.

But instead, you just glance up from your spot on the couch, legs tucked under you, and ask softly, “Are you staying long?”

He shrugs, pouring tea into two mismatched mugs. “You tell me.”

And somehow, that feels fair.

Then on one Saturday night, after an exhausting grocery run. You’re in the lobby balancing too many bags, shoulders sore, when a stranger steps up beside you.

Tall. Sharp jaw. Pretty eyes. He glances at your arms and smiles.

“You need help with those?”

You hesitate, surprised. “Um. Sure—thank you.”

He takes a few bags, easy as anything. Smiles again, more open this time. “I’m new here. Top floor. Guess we’re neighbors?”

You nod slowly, still trying to place him. New is odd. You usually hear about new tenants from the lady down the hall—Mrs. Cho with her binoculars and permanently cracked door. But maybe he’s just quiet.

The elevator dings open. He gestures for you to go in first.

Just before the doors slide shut, a voice cuts through the air.

“Hold it.”

You freeze.

A hand catches the door. And then he’s there.

Sunoo.

He steps in without a word, eyes scanning the bags, the stranger, then—slowly—you. The air shifts.

The other man clears his throat. “I was just helping—”

“She’s good,” Sunoo interrupts. His tone is polite. Pleasant. Deceptively calm.

But there’s something in his eyes. Something dark and unreadable.

You watch his jaw tighten. The ride up is silent. When the elevator stops at your floor, the stranger offers a half-wave and disappears toward the opposite end of the hallway.

You don’t look back. Not until Sunoo speaks behind you, voice low.

“You always trust strangers like that?”

You bristle. “He was just being nice.”

Sunoo laughs once, hollow. “You think people are nice for free?”

You turn to face him. “What’s your problem?”

His gaze finds yours. Steady. Burning.

“He looked at you too long.”

Your breath catches. The silence between you thickens, pulling taut like a string between two magnets.

“…And so what if he did?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

Sunoo’s expression doesn’t change. But his eyes soften—just a touch.

“Then he should learn when to stop.”

After that, things get blurry.

Sunoo doesn’t just show up—he stays. Some nights, he falls asleep on your couch with the TV still murmuring low. Some mornings, he’s already in your kitchen making coffee before your alarm even goes off.

You stop asking how he got in.

Maybe you like it. Maybe you need it.

He never makes a move. Not really. Just stays close. Too close.

You feel him behind you when you’re washing dishes, his arm brushing yours as he reaches for the towel.

You feel his breath near your ear when he leans over to whisper something—some meaningless comment—but his voice always lingers longer than it should.

And sometimes... you catch yourself leaning back.

Just to feel it again.

One night, you post something to your story—something small. A drink on a patio. The corner of your knee. Just ambiance. Nothing telling.

But the second it goes up, your phone buzzes.

Sunoo: You’re not home.

You freeze.

And then: Who’s with you?

Your heart stutters.

Another message follows: Don’t lie.

You stare at the screen. Not knowing what to say. Not knowing if it’s fear you feel… or something more dangerous. Something warmer.

The kind of thrill you don’t admit to.

You type, slowly: “A friend.”

Three dots.

Then: Is it someone who looks at you too long again?

You catch yourself smiling at your phone slightly before shutting it off.

You hadn’t even been gone that long.

Just a few hours. One drink. Maybe two.

Enough to let the warmth linger in your limbs as you step out of the rideshare and walk the short distance to your apartment building. The night air is cool against your skin, and you feel it in that sensitive space behind your knees and the dip of your collarbone. You pull your coat tighter, heels soft against the pavement.

There’s a calm in your chest tonight. A looseness. For once, you don’t feel eyes on your back.

Not until you round the corner and see him.

Sunoo.

Sitting quietly just outside his apartment, crouched by his door like he’d just finished doing something with his hands—adjusting something, maybe, or fixing something no one asked him to fix.

But when he sees you, he stands slowly.

No surprise in his face. No sheepish excuse. Like he knew you’d come back just then. Like he’d been waiting.

Your footsteps falter. “Hey.”

His eyes flicker over you—coat still half-open, lips glossed with the sheen of wine, hair slightly mussed from the wind. And that’s the moment you realize how you must look through his eyes.

Not messy. Just… undone.

His gaze doesn’t linger long enough to be disrespectful. Just long enough to make your breath hitch.

“You were out late,” he says, voice soft. A low honey-slick sound that makes your spine straighten without meaning to.

You shrug one shoulder, lips quirking. “So are you.”

He glances at his watch, even though he must already know the time. “Was working on something.”

You nod, but don’t move to unlock your door. Not yet.

There’s something about the stillness in the hallway—the hush of it, the hum of late-night heat in the vents—that makes you stay there, standing opposite him under the dim yellow light.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, his head tilting slightly. “Just thought I’d make sure everything was still working.”

“The cameras?”

“Mmhmm.”

You take a step closer, just to pass him really—but his scent catches you off guard. Subtle. Clean. Like cedar and fresh linen. Something domestic and warm.

Something that doesn’t match the cold, pale exterior you first met.

You pause beside him. “You always check them at midnight?”

His lips lift, barely. “You’re more interesting at midnight.”

You blink—caught off guard. A strange flutter deep in your stomach that has nothing to do with the wine.

But when you glance over at him, his face is calm. Expression unreadable. Like maybe you imagined it.

You huff a laugh under your breath. “Well. Glad I could keep your night exciting.”

“You always do,” he says.

Your eyes snap back to his.

But he’s already turning the knob to his own door, opening it slowly. His voice, still soft, drifts over his shoulder as he disappears inside:

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

And then the door clicks shut.

You stand there for a moment longer—coat forgotten, fingers curled around your keys, heat crawling slowly up your neck.

You don’t know when he started calling you that.

But you don’t hate the way it sounds.

—

You’re in the middle of folding laundry when he knocks.

A soft, casual knock—nothing urgent. Like a neighbor asking to borrow sugar. But something in your chest tightens anyway.

You open the door, and he’s there—Sunoo, hoodie sleeves rolled up to his forearms, tool bag in one hand, the other holding a slim black box.

“I forgot one,” he says, lifting the box slightly. “It was still in the packaging when I left.”

Your brows raise. “Another camera?”

“Just a small one. For the back corner of the living room. It fills in the blind spot.”

You blink. “There was a blind spot?”

He gives a small smile, that quiet kind of charming. “There isn’t anymore.”

You step aside without thinking, and he walks in like he’s been here a thousand times. Like your apartment is just an extension of his own.

The camera is tiny—sleek and white like the others, almost invisible once he mounts it near the ceiling. You watch him work, perched on the arm of the couch, towel still wrapped around your damp hair.

He doesn’t talk much today. Just hums a little under his breath, something tuneless but oddly soothing. His movements are efficient, careful. When he finishes, he tests it from his phone, tapping and swiping with focused precision.

“That should do it,” he murmurs. Then he glances at you. “Sorry for the intrusion.”

You wave it off. “It’s fine. Honestly, I forget they’re there.”

He smiles again. “Good.”

And then he’s gone.

Just like that.

You don’t think about it again until hours later—long after the sun’s gone down and the city outside your window has turned quiet and distant.

You’ve showered, dried your hair, changed into your favorite oversized sleep shirt. Your body feels warm and clean and soft as you move through your evening ritual, dimming the lights one by one, flicking on your bedroom lamp. You pass through the living room to grab your phone from the couch—

And you stop.

There.

Above the bookshelf.

A pinpoint of red.

Tiny. Almost imperceptible.

You squint at it. That wasn’t there before.

You step closer, pulse skipping slightly as you tilt your head, following the subtle glow to the source. The new camera. The one he installed today.

Your brows knit together.

You reach for your phone to check the app—just to reassure yourself—but pause halfway.

You remember the way he’d looked at you the other night, voice dipped in sweet molasses.

“You’re more interesting at midnight.”

The way he hadn’t knocked when you got home. He was just there. Waiting.

You remember the comment from last week, about how you always made your tea too strong. You never told him that.

The time he mentioned your favorite pajama set. The one you wear when you think no one’s watching.

Your mouth goes dry.

The red light blinks once.

Just once.

And then stills again.

Your breath shudders out of you, not quite fear, not quite anything you can name. Something heavier. Something hotter. You feel it slide down your spine like a slow hand, lingering in places it shouldn’t.

He’s watching.

Not just protecting.

Watching.

And the worst part isn’t that you want to pull the plug or call him or demand answers—

It’s that your thighs press together just slightly as you back into your bedroom, skin tingling with awareness. That your fingertips twitch with something desperate as you flick the bedroom light off. That your lips part, and you glance over your shoulder at the closed bedroom door—

Like maybe you want him to knock.

Like maybe… you want him to see.

It starts with little things.

The way you move through your space—never hurried, never careless. Your towel slips lower when you pass the mirror, and you don’t fix it right away. You stretch a little longer when reaching for the top shelf, angle your body toward the shelf in the living room that you know is in full view.

You start lighting candles at night. Soft flickering pools of gold that cast shadows up your legs, across the bare skin of your collarbone.

And when you dress, you dress for the camera.

Lace. Sheer. Silk.

You don’t touch the app. You never mention it. You never say anything. And that’s what drives him insane.

You see it in the way he looks at you the next time he drops by—supposedly to ask how the new placement’s working.

He doesn’t look at your face first.

His eyes drop—trail over the dip of your tank top, the curve of your hips under thin cotton shorts.

You act like you don’t notice. You tilt your head and smile, sip slowly from your glass of wine.

And when he lingers at your door too long, when his gaze strays again and again to your mouth, you say sweetly, “Night, Sunoo,” and close the door in his face.

The camera blinks red.

The game continues for days.

You wake up, and it’s like your entire apartment is an invisible stage. You walk slower, linger longer, let the silk of your robe slip just a little more off your shoulder. Sometimes you whisper to yourself—sweet little nothing words. Sometimes you moan, soft and breathy when you stretch.

You swear you can feel him on the other end of the lens. Can feel his breath hitch. His pulse stutter.

You don’t know how far it will go. You just know you like it.

One night, after dinner with a friend, you take the long way home.

There’s a breeze through the hallway window, and your heels echo down the corridor as you slow in front of your door. It’s quiet. Calm.

The red light on the new camera is glowing.

Watching.

You smile up at it.

Then, without hesitation, you turn and walk to the door next to yours.

His.

You pause only briefly before reaching for the handle.

It’s unlocked.

The door creaks open softly.

For a split second, all is still. You almost think he’s not home—until he appears suddenly in the hallway, hair a mess, hoodie half-zipped, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“Wha—what are you—?” he stammers, stepping forward, as if to block you from coming any farther.

“I got curious,” you say calmly, leaning against the doorframe. “Thought I’d stop by.”

He swallows hard. “You… should’ve texted. I—I was just about to go to bed.”

You glance past him, and your gaze catches on a faint blue glow leaking from a door near the back of the apartment. It’s open just a crack.

Your eyes narrow slightly. “What’s in there?”

He stiffens. “It’s nothing. Just my—uh—work setup. You wouldn’t be interested.”

You hum. “Let me be the judge of that.”

“Really, it’s just boring—”

But you’re already walking, slipping past him before he can stop you.

“Wait—!”

You push the door open.

And freeze.

The room is bathed in the soft, eerie blue of monitors. At least four massive screens line the wall, each one displaying a different feed. Different angles.

All from your apartment.

Your living room. Your bedroom. Your kitchen. Your front door.

The footage is live.

Every movement of your body—every breath, every glance, every night spent on the couch in those little shorts—is laid out before you in chilling, intimate detail.

But that’s not all.

Your eyes scan the walls.

Photos.

Dozens of them, printed and pinned in neat rows. Pictures of you—smiling, cooking, asleep. Some are close-ups. Some taken through the window. Some so precise they could’ve only been captured by someone inside.

Your fingers trail lower.

There are other photos.

Men.

Your ex. A coworker. A delivery guy you let in once.

Each has a name.

A short note beneath them.

"Not a threat." “Neutral. Unaware.” “Too familiar. Watched.” “Bad energy. Potential risk.” “Removed.”

Your breath catches. You turn slowly. And he’s standing there, still in the hallway, frozen. The air between you tightens like a wire.

You look at him. Really look at him.

His cheeks are flushed, his eyes wild, lips parted like he’s trying to find a way to lie his way out of it. But he doesn’t speak. Because you’re not scared.

You’re… something else.

You cross the room slowly, gaze locked to his. The screens behind you flicker—one angle showing your bedroom just moments ago, candlelit and intimate.

“You’ve been watching me,” you murmur, voice low.

His breath shakes. “I had to. It wasn’t—it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“No?”

“It was just to keep you safe,” he says, quickly. “At first. I just needed to know if anyone got too close. If they—if they looked at you wrong. If they touched you—”

You take another step toward him, close enough now that your fingers brush the front of his hoodie.

He goes still.

You lean in, whisper-soft.

“So you watched.”

His mouth opens. No words come. His breath hitches in his throat.

You trail your fingers up his chest, slow and deliberate. “And what did you see?”

“I— I uh..”

You turn.

“I knew you were obsessed,” you say, tone cool, amused. “But this?”

You laugh softly. “God, this is pathetic.”

His jaw tenses. “You’re not mad?”

“Oh, I’m not the one who should be embarrassed,” you murmur, stepping close. “You’ve been watching me like I’m yours…” You leam in, his breath hot on your cheek as you whisper in his ear. “So why not just admit it?”

Something flickers in his eyes. Shame, maybe. Or something darker.

You slowly pull back, brushing past him as you move to walk back down the hall. Your mind is racing. But not in a bad way. You think of all the times he must have seen you cry, dance by yourself in your room, even change.

You laugh to yourself as you reach for his door handle. Twisting it gently and pulling it open to leave.

But then—just as you open it—

SLAM.

His palm hits the door beside your head, slamming it shut with a force that rattles the hinges. Your breath catches.

He doesn’t touch you.

But he’s close.

“You shouldn’t play with things you don’t understand,” he says quietly, voice velvet-smooth.

You turn slowly, eyes meeting his. “Then help me understand.”

There’s a stillness. Thick. Tense. Every breath in the room feels loud.

He exhales once, sharp.

“I couldn’t stop watching,” he says. “I didn’t want to. Every night, I’d tell myself I was protecting you. But then you started—” He swallows hard. “You started bending over slower. You knew. You let me.”

You press your back to the door, lips parting.

“I didn’t just let you,” you whisper. “I wanted you to.”

That’s all it takes.

His hand slides into your hair, mouth crashing into yours—not soft, not tender, but hungry, like he’s starved for something only you can give. His other hand finds your waist, gripping hard enough to bruise.

You pull him closer. You don’t resist. You open your mouth to him. You let him in.

He groans against your lips, like he’s waited years for this. Like the obsession finally broke free of its leash.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, breathless against your neck. “Say it.”

You smile, nails raking down his back.

“Make me.”

He stares at you like you just flipped a switch in him. Like he’s been on the edge of something dark and dangerous for months—and you just gave him permission to fall off the ledge.

And now?

Now there’s no going back.

He kisses you hard—nothing gentle this time. It's fierce and breathless and wild, like he’s trying to brand you with it. His hands grip your waist, dragging you closer until there's no space left, until the heat between you crackles like a live wire.

You gasp against his mouth, and it makes him groan.

“You think I didn’t see it?” he whispers against your skin. “The way you moved for the cameras. The way you undressed like you knew I’d be watching.”

His hand slides up your side, fingers ghosting beneath the hem of your shirt, and you shiver. Your back hits the door as he leans in, lips grazing your jaw.

“You wanted me to lose it, didn’t you?”

Your breath hitches. You nod.

“Say it.”

“I wanted you,” you whisper, voice unsteady. “I wanted this.”

His mouth finds your neck—pressing slow, heated kisses against the softest part of your skin. One hand holds your thigh, dragging it around his waist, and the other stays firm on your back, keeping you right where he needs you.

“I watched you,” he murmurs, breath warm against your skin. “Every night. Pretending you were alone. But I saw everything.”

The confession is twisted. Shameful. And somehow…it thrills you.

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. “And now you’re here. At my door. Asking me to make you mine.”

You don't even realize you’re nodding until he smiles—slow, wicked.

“You’re not walking away from this,” he says. “You know that, right?”

Your fingers tighten in his shirt.

“I don’t want to.”

He lets out a breath like he’s been holding it forever. Then—without another word—he lifts you, effortlessly, and you're in his arms, heart pounding, lips tangled again before he carries you down the hallway like he already knows exactly what you need.

When your back hits his sheets, his voice drops low—hungry, reverent.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

He moves over you like he’s memorizing you—every sound, every shift, every gasp that slips past your lips when he pushes deeper inside you. Not just your body, but the way you react to him. The way your breath catches when his hand slides along your waist. The way your nails scrape up his back when he rolls his hips just right. The way your mouth falls open around a moan when he whispers your name like a secret prayer.

“You’re so quiet now,” he murmurs against your throat, his breath hot as he presses a kiss there, slow and lingering. His pace never falters, every thrust controlled, deliberate. “Not calling me pathetic anymore.”

You meet his gaze, eyes glazed, lips parted. “That was before I knew what it felt like.”

His jaw tightens, the muscles in his neck working as he breathes—barely holding on. “And now?”

You reach up, pulling his face close, your body arching into his. “Now I think I want you to ruin me.”

That breaks something in him.

He exhales hard like you knocked the air from his lungs, like your words gave him permission. Then he’s kissing you again, but slower this time—deeper. With reverence. He holds your face like he’s afraid you’ll vanish, like he’s finally touching something he spent forever just looking at.

You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, grounding him, keeping him exactly where you want him. His rhythm falters for half a second, a low groan catching in his throat as you pull him in even deeper.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, voice ragged. “Please.”

His forehead drops to yours, breath hot, chest heaving. “Say it again.”

“Don’t stop.”

“You’re mine,” he says it low, trembling against your lips, like a vow. “Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

And when he starts moving again, it’s different. There’s no more restraint. It’s devotion, obsession, love twisted into something almost violent in how deeply it aches. Like he’s trying to leave proof of himself inside you—something you’ll never be able to forget.

You hold his face in both hands as he loses himself in you, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

Because this— it’s not just sex.

It’s surrender. It’s a promise.

It’s a breaking point neither of you will come back from.

And when you whisper, “If I’m yours… then act like it,”

He breathes out something wrecked and reverent. “You don’t get to say that and walk away tomorrow.”

“I’m not walking away.”

Not this time.

And when he kisses you again—slow and full of hunger—it feels like something dangerous and final has snapped into place. Like you’ve both crossed a line you’ll never undo.

He buries himself in you again, groaning your name against your mouth. And you take it. Every part of him.

Because for the first time, it doesn’t confuse you, scare you, or make you wonder.

It just feels like home.

Thanks for reading! Reblogs + notes always mean a lot 💌 other works

tl: @yazmike

(read rules before asking to be added to any list ᥫ᭡. )

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stlllle · 6 days ago

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Camboy!sunoo

[Masterlist enhypen ]

[my main list ]

Camboy!Sunoo who wears white lace panties on stream and tugs them to the side slowly with trembling fingers while whispering, “Do you like this? Just for you…”

Camboy!Sunoo who starts every stream pretending he’s shy—biting his lip, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt—before spreading his legs wide and moaning so sweet it makes the chat explode.

Camboy!Sunoo who rides his pillow in thigh-high socks, breathy and red-cheeked, panting into the mic while whimpering your name like a prayer.

Camboy!Sunoo who edges himself for hours in private calls with you, eyes teary, lip wobbling, saying, “Can I cum now, please… I was so good…”

Camboy!Sunoo who wears pastel chokers with little bells that jingle every time he bounces, making the whole stream even filthier.

Camboy!Sunoo who giggles between moans when you praise him, saying things like “I love when you call me pretty… makes me even wetter.”

Camboy!Sunoo who livestreams while plugged, squirming in his seat, trying to hold a conversation but breaking every few seconds with a shaky whimper.

Camboy!Sunoo who calls you “noona"in the most breathless, bratty voice and purposely breaks rules just to get punished. “Oops… guess you’ll have to spank me again.”

Camboy!Sunoo who licks whipped cream off his fingers in slow, sensual circles, letting it drip down his chin just to clean it with his tongue again.

Camboy!Sunoo who turns on his cam at 2AM and pouts, “I couldn’t sleep… can I make myself feel better while you watch me?”

Camboy!Sunoo who goes live in oversized sweaters with nothing underneath, teasing by letting it slide off one shoulder while touching himself under the frame.

Camboy!Sunoo who whines when he’s close, thighs shaking, head thrown back—until he hears your voice say, “Not yet,” and he lets out a desperate sob.

Camboy!Sunoo who practices moaning your name before streams in the mirror, making sure it sounds just right when he cums saying it.

Camboy!Sunoo who records private videos of himself sucking on a toy with tears in his eyes, begging, “Wish it was you instead…”

Camboy!Sunoo who wears cat ears during sub goal streams and makes soft, needy “meow” sounds as he humps the bed.

Camboy!Sunoo who makes you pick what toy he’ll use—holding up two and whining, “Which one do you wanna watch me stretch with today?”

Camboy!Sunoo who cries a little when overstimulated, gasping, “It’s too much… I can’t… oh f-fuck,” but never actually stops.

Camboy!Sunoo who collapses after cumming, breathing heavy and flushed, whispering a soft, “Did I do good?”

Camboy!Sunoo who keeps a Polaroid of you next to his bed and glances at it during streams when he’s close, knowing you’re watching.

Camboy!Sunoo who secretly dreams of you showing up mid-stream, grabbing his throat, and saying, “Turn that off. I’m gonna fuck you myself.”

#enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen headcanons #enhypen oneshots #sunoo x reader #kim sunoo #enha sunoo #fem reader #smut headcanons #fan headcanons #smut kpop #kpop smut #sub kpop #male sub #sub idol #boy sub #sub x reader #cam boy

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intromortal · 2 months ago

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ꕥ NICE N' FULL ⸝⸝⸝ six different scenarios in which the enhypen members breed the fuck out of you !

⚠︎ smut. mdni. breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, p in v, dirty talking, pet names, more warnings listed for each member. total wc 4k. ⸻ rules ⋆ m.list

✷ NIA — not exactly what bae @vampsol asked for bc i went a little au-ish here :p but it's me so what did we expect. shoutout to my goat @karinasbaby for sharing a braincell with me and helping me w the ideas <3

ꕥ LEE HEESEUNG

arranged marriage, it's okay they're starting to be obsessed with each other, slight somno, oral (f. rec), cum eating

If you were to tell anyone Heeseung didn't as much as look you in the eyes about two months ago, they'd never believe you. Not if the way he's clinging to your lower half before he even opens his eyes fully is anything to go by. Still naked in bed, the wet sheets clinging to your bodies the only thing shielding you from the cool dawn air.

Marriages of convenience are rarely easy, especially for spirits as free as Heeseung, and he's made it clear to you how much he'd rather have married anyone else instead. They also come with burdensome expectations of heirs way too soon for his liking. Yet, something about your devotion to him in your most intimate moments despite your general indifference and coldness towards each other, brought the cold and hard as steel man down to his knees, a puddle of mush at your feet ready to fulfill any request.

"Hee," you mutter softly against your pillow as he parts your legs to make space for himself, and Heeseung's heart soars. A month ago it would've been 'Heeseung' or 'husband' with that venomous tone you seemed to only reserve for him, like his spot in your life was only a joke. It's different now, you're tender with him.

"Shh, pretty. Just lay here for me like this." It's still early, and Heeseung can barely see, but he wants the first thing he looks at in the morning to be your pretty hole, raw and sore from all the previous fucking, still gush his seed out. He parts your folds slowly, careful not to hurt you, and watches as his milky cum greets him, pouring out of you. It's a sight for sore eyes, and one he knows he will never get enough of. Even when he'll manage to put a child in you, he knows this is something he won't be able to let go of.

You shift, now more aware of your surroundings, but Hee is quick to keep you still. Your hand underneath your stomach faintly tingles because of its weird position, but it all fades in the background when Heeseung grabs your ass and spreads it, moving lap at where his cum is gushing out of you.

You're still sensitive from the night you spent together, but his touch is feather light and you don't really know if you want him to stop or you want more. He moans at the mixture of your tastes, pushing his tongue deeper inside your cunt like he's trying to clean you, switching so soft kisses on your lips once he's satisfied.

He makes his way up to your face, littering your bottom and spine in kisses and playful nibbles, relishing in the little sounds you make in response. Your front is still pressed to the mattress, and not seeing him almost makes you believe this is not the Heeseung that was shooting you sharp glares throughout the entire wedding ceremony. His touch is warmer, so much more delicate than the way he held your end that first night. His kisses are slow and deliberate, not empty and forced anymore. It's like soul has find its way back into Heeseung's being, after months of being a cold slate. The change started out slowly, but now you're here, and you genuinely feel like you could really love this man. Maybe a part of you does already.

His voice is the same, but the tone makes him sound like a whole different person, the forever present irritation is gone, only a playful tilt to it left as he finally reaches your ear to whisper in it. "Slipped out while sleeping, all of our hard work gone… such a pity." Heeseung aligns his cock to your weeping cunt, rubbing his head a few times along your folds, then carefully pushes in. "We have to do it all over again."

He's gentle, showering you in soft praises, and his thrusts are even slower. You've never known anything other than fucking, but you think this is what lovemaking feels like.

"So good, baby. You'll be such a good mom, you've been so patient with me even when i didn't deserve it. You'll be wonderful," he whispers in your ear, raising goosebumps all over your skin at just how sweet he sounds. "You are wonderful. You're perfect."

ꕥ PARK JONGSEONG

husband!jay, semi-public, bulge kink, he's insatiable

What better way to spend your honeymoon trip if not by getting filled over and over again by your dear, newlywed husband?

You can't think of any, but maybe that's also because you can't really think about anything that's not the delicious drag of Jay's cock against your walls. So deep inside you, pushing more even when his balls are already flush to your skin. Like he can't get enough, like he could break any barrier and mold into you as one if he really put his mind to it. He needs more, you both do.

But one thing's for sure, he's giving you his all.

"So fucking good, my wife has the best pussy. So perfect for me," he pants hotly in your ear, his large warm hand cupping your breast and separating it from the frigid glass your front is pushed against. The view from your suite is breathtaking, emphasized by the huge transparent wall, right beside the queen sized bed. At the moment though, you're not really focused on it. Nor is Jay, too busy gawking at your beautiful figure caged between his chest and the glass. He could stare at you forever. "I'm gonna stuff you full, baby. Gonna fuck you so good all trip, there's no way you won't be pregnant by the end."

You believe it, because all he's done ever since you undid your luggage in the middle of the room once you arrived to your destination is pump you full of his cum, all day, all night. And then all over again. Only stopping to get you food. You aren't safe from him when showering, even worse when taking a bath, definitely not when you're lounging around the natural pool close to your suite. It's not his fault you look so good in the bathing suits you packed and the ones he picked out for you. Jay has always had good stamina, but ever since the wedding he's been downright feral.

His thrusts are slow, but intense, like he's trying to drag the pleasure out as long as he can, savoring the way his tip nudges just the right stop that has you mewling in his hold every single time. His breath is warm against your neck and so are his grunts of pleasure, your favorite sound in the whole world.

Jay twists your sensitive and sore nipples between his fingers, only smiling into your neck when you reward him with the cutest mewls he's ever heard in his life. "Fuck, baby. I'm the luckiest man alive. I can't believe you're mine forever."

"You too," you whine in response.

"Yes baby, I'm all yours, forever. I love you much."

"Love you too," you sob, throwing your head back into his shoulder, completely overtaken by the pleasure he's giving you, allowing him more access to lick and suck on your sensitive neck.

"I know, baby. I know. You're doing so good, just a little more. My sweet girl, you'll be such a good mom. Can't wait to make you one. We'll have so many, so many cute kids running around. Doesn't that sound like a dream? Fuck, I can't wait."

The hand still playing with your tits slides down to your stomach, pushing down on it until Jay can feel his own cock thrusting into you. "Right here, you're gonna carry our baby here." He keeps fucking into you slowly, deliberately, so different from the speed of the circles he draws on your clit with the fingers that were soothing your hip just moments before. He drags out his own pleasure, but needs to give you so much more. "Come on my cock baby, milk it dry. We have so much more work to do."

ꕥ SIM JAEYUN

fwb!jake but he has feelings, he's down bad and a little subby in this one, dub-con (for jake), slight blood play (just his lip)

This is a series of mistakes. It's all Jake seems to be doing as of lately.

First of all, he's not even supposed to be in your bed again, the fourth time this week. Not when he finally came to terms with the fact that he has developed a raging crush on you and cannot keep his feelings at bay any longer, even when you two agreed this whole arrangement will only be sex and nothing else.

But he can't help it when you're so fucking addicting. You not liking him back is gonna break his heart, but at least he gets to fuck you, at least he gets a little piece of you, even if it's not exactly the one he wants.

Secondly, he should've refused to fuck you raw for the first time the moment you asked, even if the thought alone had his eyes crossing and rolling all the way to the back of his skull. But he's a weak man, for you especially, and he simply couldn't resist the temptation, not when you looked up at him with your big glossy eyes and with such a cute pout on your lip.

So here he is now, fucking you raw like his life is on the line, trying his hardest not to spill inside you too soon because if he does he might just die from embarrassment.

All he does, all he's ever done, is with the purpose of impressing you. It's like you have him chained up to this invisible leash he didn't even notice you put on him, and now it's too late to take it off. Jake means it when he says he would do anything for you.

His thrusts are shallow and quick, he's fucking you mostly with his tip, and you don't think you've ever seen him so worked up. It makes you feel things you didn't even know you needed. You like the feeling.

"You're so cute like this, Jakey," you giggle into the messy open mouthed kiss he's drowning you in, your fingers ghosting on the muscles of his back while his tremble on your waist. "Fuck me deeper, I want to feel all of you."

Jake's hips still for a second as he bites down on his bottom lip so hard he draws blood, but you don't mind at all. You even lick it clean, sighing dreamily at the iron taste overtaking your senses. Jake's eyes screw shut, and he's so close to cumming his eyes start to water. This is simultaneously the best and worst thing that has ever happened to him, and thinking that this might very well be the last time only makes his eyes wetter.

"I—fuck. I can't. I'll cum too soon."

"That's okay, we can go again," you say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and a little piece of Jake's heart breaks. He doesn't know how much more of this he can take.

You sense his hesitation and wrap your legs around his hips, pushing them closer to your pelvis so his length fully sheaths inside you. It's so warm and big and throbbing to release his cum in you and there's not a single thing you want more. "Fill me up, Jakey. Claim me," you whisper in his ear. "Why don't you show everyone I belong to you?"

Jake resumes his movements, tentatively at first but steadily building a pace that feels good, his thrusts are deeper now, needier, and even if he were to try to pull out, you'd keep him right there. "I want to. I want you fully, fuck— please be mine," he sobs into the valley of your breasts, voice muffled as he licks and nips at your skin.

"Go on. Make me yours then. Show me how bad you want me."

And he does because fuck, he's weak. He's so fucking weak for you and he wouldn't have it any other way.

ꕥ PARK SUNGHOON

coworker!hoon, secret relationship, semi-public, degradation, jealousy, mentions of marriage

Something about the way Sunghoon's thick eyebrows were furrowed from the second he walked into the job that morning, or how his jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth whenever any of your colleagues as much as opened their mouths to say something, should've been your cue to behave for the day.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, he happens to look so damn hot when he's pissed.

And he's so filthy when he's jealous, pushing his buttons becomes your favorite challenge in times like these.

"Eyeing Jake all day like you want to bring him to the back and fuck him, are you not ashamed?" he spits, voice an octave lower than usual and barely slipping through his gritted teeth. "Bending over in front of him, touching him when you know I can see you. Do I have to mark you up for you to fucking behave for once?"

The roughness in his voice makes your eyes wet but your panties wetter, he doesn't bother to undress you, you don't have time for it anyway. You're just a few steps away from the lounge bar where some of your coworkers are surely taking a break right now. Anyone could walk in at any time, and maybe Sunghoon wishes for that to happen.

Instead Sunghoon just flips your skirt up and pushes your panties to the side, immediately rubbing his angry red tip on your folds to coat them in your own juices. He feels so incredibly hard against you, and that's how you know he must've been hiding a boner this entire time. As much as he loves to pretend he doesn't, it's little cues like this that let you know just how much he enjoys putting you back in your place. "Of course you're soaked." He barks a laugh devoid of humor but full of disdain.

"If it's my attention you want," he whispers more softly, and the switch in his attitude sends shivers down your spine, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Sunghoon, his lips curling into a smirk. "I'll give it to you. I'll give you so much of it you won't ever think about disrespecting me again."

He pushes his girth into you fully in one thrust, his rough fingers finding your clit within seconds, not even giving you enough time to savor the pleasurable sting that comes from his cock stretching you out so nicely. He grabs your jaw in his other hand, his smirk not turned into a snarl. "You'll cum, and you'll cum hard enough to milk all of me. You'll keep cumming around my cock no matter how much it hurts, until I fill you up. Is that clear?"

You would nod if you could, but his grip is too strong, so you do what you can: just stand there as he subjects you to anything his heart desires. He doesn't move his hips, doesn't give you that satisfaction, only rubs his fingers on your tiny bundle of nerves so hard it almost hurts, but you'd never ask him to stop it.

"You'll take all of my cum, until your belly is swollen by how much of it I fuck into you. I'll put a baby in you so no one else will ever mistake you for anything other than mine."

You clench around him, time and time again, just like he wants you to. Sunghoon has you under a spell, and the more he talks, the more he flicks your clit, the less you think about what's rational and what's not. You only know what he tells you, and to you that's the only truth you need to hear.

"I'll put a ring on your finger, make you my pretty little wife. Maybe even make you stop coming in, I'll take care of everything. Yeah, keep milking me like that, baby. Let me make you a mommy."

ꕥ KIM SUNOO

ewb, hate sex, degradation, marking, one singular 'slut', condom comes off!

"You're—mhh, such a bad fuck," you say over your shoulder, wanting to see Sunoo's reaction despite the uncomfortable position. You're lying through your teeth, of course. You know how much saying things like this riles Sunoo up, and the only times you feel anything akin to like towards him is when he's rough with you. It's why despite the mutual hatred that makes up the entirety of your relationship, you two keep finding yourselves skin to skin, tangled in bed sheets. You always thought you needed someone to fuck you like they hate you, turns out, what you really craved was someone to fuck you because they hate you. And the right man for the job is right behind you, thrusting into you like he wants to hurt you, his hands leaving bruises on your hips like it's their right to do so.

"Then why are you here, wetting my cock like no one's fucked you in years?" His moves are relentless, and you have to try your best to not collapse on the bed because of the sheer force behind every stroke. Your legs are shaking, but you hang on a thread just to not give him that satisfaction. Instead, you push him further.

"That guy from—mph, yesterday. He'd—" you gasp as he gives you a harsher thrust, so deep you're sure you can feel it in your guts. The angle he starts fucking you in knocks the air out of your lungs in the best way possible, and even if you're trembling under Sunoo's weight and clawing at the cotton fabric next to you, you refuse to back down. "He'd do a better job."

You don't need to see his face, you hear the smirk in his voice, and it's the kind that sends a shiver down your spine each time. "But you're here." Another sharp thrust. "You don't even remember his name."

"At least he las– lasted while fucking me raw." You feel him halt all movement, and you know this is enough to get what you want from him, but you just can't help it. "You could never."

"You're such a little fox, aren't you?" He speaks calmly, but you can feel the storm brewing under the facade. He drags his fingertips across your spine, barely touching you at all. It's embarrassing how that's enough to have you bend under his touch. He reaches the plush of your ass, grabbing a fistful of it so forcefully you can feel his nails break the skin. He doesn't stop when you complain, doesn't care for your pained moans. "You think you're so smart, but you're just a little slut. You want me to fuck you raw?"

You try to shake your head to deny it, but he knows better.

"Yes you do. Say it." His grip on your ass only gets stronger, and tears line your bottom lashes.

"I do," you whine, finally. "Please."

"Good." Sunoo releases the death grip on your skin, soothing over the red spot with his thumb lightly, like it's not him performing the action. The Sunoo you know has no time for care. "Then take the condom off of me."

Your head snaps back at his words, but he makes no sign of moving. So you do what he says, this once. You reach for this length, then carefully slide the rubber off of it. And right when he thinks you're finally behaving, you squeeze his cock so hard his hips stutter forward and you actually manage to steal a surprised yelp out of him.

Sunoo's reaction is immediate. He grabs both of your hands, uncaring for the way your elbows are uncomfortably bent, and brings your wrists together behind your back. He slides into you again in one swift motion, not giving you even a second to savor the feeling of his bare cock pushing into your heat for the first time. All of your nerves feel on fire, and as he sets a breakneck pace while keeping you down and unable to move.

"Do I have to fuck a baby into you for you to finally behave?" He gasps when you squeeze him in response to his words. "You'd like that yeah? You'd love for the man you hate to get you pregnant? Is that gonna make you shut the fuck up for once? Oh, I bet it will."

ꕥ YANG JUNGWON

fiancé!won, they're obsessed your honor, love on the floor

"You can't wait to get me pregnant, but what will you do when you won't be able to suck on my tits for months, mhh?" You giggle on Jungwon's lap, right in the middle of the empty room.

The new house still smells like new houses usually do, dry and woody, like the windows are never open. There's no furniture yet, but it doesn't stop your heart from pounding in your chest as you look around. Your home.

Jungwon's eyes never leave you though, and when you look back at him and find him smiling at you like you hold the world in your palm, you know you would be happy with every house, no matter the size or appearance, as long as he's the one you share it with.

"What makes you think that's gonna stop me?" Your fiance replies, shaking his head to move the bangs out of his eyes. "I'll even get something more out if it."

"Won!" you exclaim, hiding your face in your hands. Your heart melts a bit when you hear that familiar boyish giggle leave him, light as air, and for once in your life you feel like you've found the right spot in the world.

The warmth you feel spreads further as Jungwon starts caressing your bare thighs, until he's gripping your ass, using it as leverage to push you on his crotch.

You gasp at the feeling, and your hands find their rightful place on his broad shoulders so you can keep yourself steady as he starts to roll your hips against his.

"Won… we shouldn't—"

He shuts you up with a soft peck, resting his forehead against yours. "Why not? It's our place. We worked so hard for it, we should celebrate."

You bite your bottom lip as you think about it, but Won doesn't waste a minute and flips both of you over so you're caged between the floor and his chest. He nibbles on your ear, knowing better than anyone else how weak it makes you when he does that. "I'll make you feel so good, doll." It's like he's put a spell on you because you nod before he even manages to finish his sentence. "Just lay back and let me do all the work."

Your clothes are soon discarded everywhere around you, and your legs are wrapped around his hips as he fucks into you like he never has before. You're both a sweaty mess, panting in each other's mouths, exchanging spit any chance you get.

"Your pussy was made for me, doll. You're sucking me in so well." Jungwon moans against your lips, and you watch enamored as his eyes shut close and his eyebrows furrow, a droplet of sweat running down from his hairline. "Can't wait to take you on every surface of this house. Fuck— just leave it to me, baby. I have so many surprises for you."

"I'm so close, please," you whine, sliding a hand down his back to push his hips into you further. It makes Jungwon's pace faster, more desperate to give you exactly what you need.

"Let go, baby. Come all over my dick— yeah, just like that. You're taking me so fucking well. Such a perfect doll for me." His praise goes straight to your cunt, and you squeeze him impossibly hard as wakes of pleasure rack through your body.

"My perfect angel, you're gonna look so good swollen with our baby. Am gonna give you all of my cum, just a little more. We'll have so many kids running around the house we built. Our home forever," Jungwon babbles in your ear, and you're so fucked out you can even barely make out what he's telling you. You just know you need him to fuck you full, over and over.

His hips never stutter, despite how drenched and slippery everything is by now, a puddle of wetness pooling underneath you on the hard floor, getting bigger and bigger the more Jungwon fucks you, and you suspect the floor won't be the only surface you'll wet that day.

#✷ mortal works #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #jay smut #jay x reader #jake smut #jake x reader #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunoo smut #sunoo x reader #jungwon smut #jungwon x reader #jongseong smut #jongseong x reader #jaeyun x reader #jaeyun smut

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enhawons · 16 hours ago

Note

hi mimi >.< can you write something like..... jungwon yearning for reader? like... they are friends and jungwon is head over heels for reader

oblivious

now playing; love me back by fromis_9

pairing -> jungwon x gn!reader

genre -> fluff, friends to lovers

wc -> 1.1K

warnings -> cursing, usage of y/n, not proof read!

requested -> yes

author‘s note -> hii anon!! tysm for requesting ^^ this is also my first fic ever so prepare for the worse lol! my first language is not english♡ alsooo i’m so sorry if this is not what you asked for i didn’t really know how to write this!! TwT

reblogs and likes are appreciated🤍

The morning was slow as the rain poured, creating small puddles along the way to school. Jungwon had promised to walk to school with you, but due to his habits of staying up late gaming, he was once again late. Obviously this hasn’t been the only time - more like the millionth time.

Your phone rang in your pocket.

wonieee🤍 is calling..

“Did school already start, wait, shit.. it’s 10am. Fuck, my moms gonna kill me” Jungwon mumbled mindlessly, making you giggle at him.

“Won, I gotta go, teachers taking our phones. Do you even know what class we have?” You asked him, despite already knowing the answer. Jungwon wasn’t a model student - quite opposite actually. He was the laid back, chill and nonchalant guy that you would see on the hallways even though class already started. He couldn’t care less about school, matter of fact, the only reason he came was for you - oh, and also his mom.

“Uhm I don’t know, maybe english” He guessed with confidence.

“No? We have biology.. Where is your schedule we got?”

“Dude I don’t know I think I threw it away, anyways, I’m going to come in like 10mins, if teach asks for me just say my bus was late, thanks princess” Princess, that damn nickname he started calling you since 6th grade. You knew it was wrong - that you got butterflies everytime he called you that, but you couldn’t help it.

“Y/n, your phone please?” Your teacher called for you, making you snap out of your thoughts and saying goodbye to Jungwon before handing the phone over to the teacher. Shortly class begun and your teacher began checking attendance.

“Y/n” “Here” You said, raising your hand.

“Jungwon” The teacher called. After getting no response, she quickly scanned the room and called for him again.

“His bus was la-“ You were cut off when a drenched Jungwon bust through the door with a skateboard in hand. “Sorry teach, my bus was late please don’t say anything to my mom, thanks” You quietly chuckled at the wide eyes the teacher was looking at him with, pure anger at the younger boy.

After, Jungwon made his way to you and sat beside you.

“You look pretty today” He said, making your cheeks glow red. A smile automatically made its way to your face as you looked away from him.

“Well thank you, you too” You said back, this time making him turn away. You catched a glimpse of his ears under his hair, and just for the record, they were bright red. You giggled at him before turning your attention back to the white board.

Unknowing to you, Jungwon kept staring at you, till the teacher pointed it out.

“Jungwon, please focus on the teaching and not Y/n! You were already late so please focus!” She scolded him, making Jungwon turn back to the board in milliseconds to avoid your gaze. Your already pink cheeks were now even pinkier.

Class ended and students pooled in the hallways for lunch.

“Fucking hell, I don’t know how I survived that class” Jungwon muttered. Shortly after, Jay appeared beside you. He was in a different class sadly, but you guys always met during lunch and recess.

“What do you mean, did you guys have Ms.Park?” Jay curiously asked. Jungwon answered by nodding, making Jay nod in approval. Ms.Park was the most hated teacher in school. She was way too strict for everyone, like apparently someone has their panties in a twist.. You soon entered the cafeteria full of people. On today’s menu was something bad anyways so you didn’t bother to eat school food, but instead begged your mom to pack you a bento box since you loved her cooking.

You sat at an empty table with Jungwon sitting next to you and Jay sitting opposite of you. “Oh no, I’m thirdwheeling again, where’s Sunghoon” Jay complained before looking around in the cafeteria with desperation to find Sunghoon lounging around somewhere.

“What do you mean?” You asked, not quite comprehending the situation. Jay just snorted and dug into his food. After no answer from Jay, you turned to Jungwon, but he was suddenly super-focused on his food that he had complained about earlier. Eventually you dug in aswell, before Jay pointed out Jungwon staring at you.

“I just can’t help it” Jungwon mumbled before turning away, hoping no one could hear him, but of course it didn’t go unheard by the two other of you sitting at the table. Jay just laughed and muttered something about being desperate.

The last class ended and the hallways were full again, making in hard to even find your own locker from the sea of students. Somehow you made it to your locker after some pushing and a few dirty stares. You pulled your bag out and quickly checked your hair in the mirror before closing your locker and going to find Jungwon.

“Fuck, this is full” you whispered while staring at the hallway infront of you, already regretting being born in this world.

It took you 10minutes to find Jungwon, probably a record at this point.

“Let me hold your bag please, princess” he said, taking your bag off your shoulder in one swift movement, making you blush at the simple gesture. You mentally scolded yourself for blushing over the bare minimum.

“Thank you won” you replied. You loved calling him that because every time you said it, he would immediately start blushing and you swore that you could see his knees twitching a little, getting weak at the knees.

The both of you continued walking and chatting until you had to go home.

“Can I hug you” Jungwon asked. Even after all these years of you replying yes every single flipping time, he always asked.

“Of course” You said before being pulled into his warm chest. You swore you could hear his heartbeat get faster. Then, he pulled away before looking at your eyes. You could somehow tell he was nervous by the way the tips of his ears were bright red like a tomato.

“Y/n, I wanna ask you something” He started. Your mind was going a million miles per hour trying to make out this whole situation.

“Yes Won?” you asked sweetly, making him turn away the blushing mess he is.

“Can I kiss you?” He blurted before turning away immediately, avoiding your gaze. You almost melted at the spot, and suddenly everything you were confused about fell together like a puzzle.

Without replying, you leaned in and crashed your lips onto his. You were thankful that you put your strawberry lip balm on today. His right hand sat comfortably at your waist while the other one was holding your cheek. The kiss made you melt and your mind went hazy. Jungwon pulled you closer and tilting his head, deepening the kiss. Years worth of emotions poured into the kiss as you, two friends, turned into something else in the afternoon sunset glow.

#- enhawons #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #jungwon x reader #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #sunghoon x reader #jake x reader #sunoo x reader #ni ki x reader #jungwon fluff #jungwon angst #jungwon x you #jungwon x y/n #kpop x reader

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leaderwon · 1 day ago

Text

CHAPTER 60 — THE END

wc — 2k

prev — masterlist

The tassel itched.

You adjusted your cap for the third time in five minutes, fingers trembling just enough to betray your nerves. Around you, the crowd buzzed with excitement — names being called, cameras flashing, friends laughing way too loud at inside jokes that suddenly meant everything.

You glanced down at your shoes. Not because they were new or special, but because they were familiar. Scuffed from library nights. Stained from rainy walks. Comfortable.

That’s how it all felt now.

Not shiny. Not perfect.

But yours.

“Y/N!” You turned, just in time to see your name projected on the giant screen, the announcer butchering your middle name as expected. You walked across the stage anyway, heat blooming under your skin from the applause.

You didn’t trip.

You didn’t cry.

You just smiled — big, real, a little breathless and took it all in.

The clapping. The chaos. The cameras. Your people and in the crowd, you saw him.

Sunghoon was standing now, hands cupped around his mouth as he cheered, too loud, too proud, just as he’d promised he would be. His gown was rumpled and he had confetti in his hair, but his eyes were on you.

And that was all you needed.

The ceremony ended in a flurry of hugs and shouted goodbyes. Everyone swarmed around the courtyard, parents juggling bouquets, friends taking blurry selfies, someone already crying near the vending machines.

You slipped away.

Not far.

Just enough to breathe.

Enough to watch it all from the edges, this world you were no longer a student in. The version of yourself that had walked into it — tangled, unsure, too full of heart, was long gone.

You didn’t mourn her.

You were proud of her. She survived. And she found her way home.

You felt someone approach before they even said anything. That familiar rhythm. The hush of presence.

Sunghoon appeared beside you, hair messy, tie loose. He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just looked out at the same crowd with the same expression you wore — half nostalgia, half relief.

“You okay?” he finally asked. You nodded. “I think so.” He bumped your shoulder. “No more last minute papers,” you said softly. “No more cafeteria spaghetti.” “No more hallway drama.” “No more chaos,” he finished.

There was a pause.

You looked at each other. Grinned.

“You think it’ll stay peaceful?” you asked. He tilted his head. “Life? No. But us? Yeah.”

And that was enough.

You hadn’t expected to see her again.

But there she was, by the fountain with her cap in her hands, turning it over and over like she didn’t know what to do with it. Her eyes scanned the crowd, until they landed on you.

Lia.

The girl who had once known you better than anyone. The girl who had once broken you in the quietest way possible.

And still, something in your chest pulled.

She made the first move.

“Hey,” she said, voice soft, tentative. “Can we talk?” Sunghoon glanced at you. You gave him a nod. “I’ll be right here,” he said.

You walked with her to the edge of the garden, away from the noise. The silence between you was heavy but not bitter. It was waiting.

“I don’t really know how to start,” she admitted. “But I’ve wanted to say something for a long time.” You nodded. Waited. “I’m sorry.”

Your breath caught.

“I was scared,” she continued, voice trembling. “I thought I was helping you, or protecting you, or I don’t even know what. But I hurt you. I see that now. I see everything I missed.”

You didn’t speak yet. You watched her, the way her shoulders curled inward, how her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her gown.

“You were my best friend,” she whispered. “And I ruined it.”

You exhaled slowly.

“You did hurt me,” you said, voice soft but steady. “But I think we both did things we weren’t proud of.”

Lia nodded quickly. “I know. But I didn’t mean to throw away what we had. You were the first person who ever saw me.”

Something in your chest cracked. But it didn’t bleed. Not anymore.

You reached for her hand.

“I missed you,” you admitted. She laughed, watery and surprised. “Really?” “Yeah.”

It wasn’t about fixing everything. It wasn’t about pretending it had never happened.

It was about this.

Two people, growing. Forgiving. Starting again.

She hugged you.

And this time, it didn’t feel like an ending. It felt like a beginning.

You and Sunghoon drove.

No destination. Windows down. Music low. Your feet on the dashboard and his fingers tangled with yours over the gear shift.

The city blurred past in gold and blue and violet.

“You’re quiet,” he said. You looked at him. Smiled. “Just taking it in.”

You leaned your head against the window, watching the light shift over the skyline.

The world didn’t feel scary anymore. It didn’t feel like it was too big or too far or too unknown.

Because you weren’t doing it alone.

And that made all the difference.

The wind shifted.

Sunghoon reached over and turned the music up just a little, something soft, some indie song you used to study to in the library and you both let the silence stretch. Not awkward. Not tense. Just quiet, full of the kind of understanding that didn’t need to be named anymore.

You squeezed his hand.

“Do you remember the first time you offered me a ride?” you asked, voice light with nostalgia.

He grinned, not looking away from the road. “When you nearly tripped over your shoelace and pretended it was intentional?”

“I was trying to be mysterious,” you defended. “You were failing spectacularly,” he laughed.

You swatted his shoulder, and he caught your wrist in his free hand, pulling it up to kiss your knuckles like it was instinct. Like it was breathing.

And suddenly you were back there.

That first day.

Lost in a crowd of new faces, overwhelmed and unsure, scribbling notes you didn’t understand in classes you weren’t sure you belonged in. You’d met Jake first, bright and warm like sunlight. Jay second, guarded and sharp and quietly funny. And then Sunghoon.

Sunghoon, who had slipped into your life like he’d always been meant to be there.

Sunghoon, who had sat beside you in lecture halls and lent you his hoodie when you forgot yours and noticed things even when you didn’t say a word.

Sunghoon, who had watched you fall for someone else and still stayed.

And now — Sunghoon, who was driving you nowhere and everywhere all at once.

You glanced at him.

“Can we stop somewhere?” you asked.

“Anywhere,” he said.

You ended up at the hill.

The same one from months ago. The one you’d stumbled upon in the middle of winter, where your breath had clouded in the air and your heart had been so full of unsaid things you thought it might burst.

Now, it was green and gold, bathed in the warmth of late spring.

He spread out the blanket from his trunk, the one you’d used on your last movie night, and you both lay down, side by side, shoes kicked off, fingers laced.

“You know what I think about?” you said suddenly. “Hm?” “That letter. The one I wrote when I thought I’d ruined everything.” Sunghoon turned his head to look at you. His eyes were gentle. Familiar. “I still have it.”

You blinked. “You do?”

He nodded. Reached into his jacket, pulled it out, creased and soft around the edges, folded like something sacred.

“I kept it because it mattered,” he said. “Because you wrote it not knowing if I’d ever see it. Because it was honest.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“You don’t have to say anything about it,” you whispered. “I know,” he said. “But I want to.”

He sat up, legs crossed, the letter still in his hand.

“You were right,” he said. “It was never loud or dramatic with us. It was slow. It was quiet. But it never felt uncertain.”

You sat up too.

“I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” he said. “I just didn’t know how to name it.” You laughed softly, a little teary, a little overwhelmed. “So what now?”

He smiled.

“Now we live.”

There was a party that night.

Not the loud kind, with bass thudding through the floor and red solo cups scattered everywhere. This one was softer. Familiar faces. A bonfire. A playlist someone made months ago that hadn’t aged well, but everyone still knew the words.

You sat with Lia and the rest of your group on mismatched cushions near the fire, roasting marshmallows and laughing at old stories. It wasn’t perfect. Some silences lingered. Some wounds weren’t fully closed.

But the love was real.

And it was enough.

Jay showed up halfway through, unannounced, like always holding a bouquet of sunflowers and wearing that same smug smile he’d had since freshman year.

“I was gonna send a card,” he said, “but this seemed more dramatic.” “Jay!” someone yelled, and then it was chaos — hugs and swears and backslaps and accusations that he still owed people coffee.

He made his way to you last.

“You made it,” you said, smiling. He nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

You looked at each other for a moment. No tension. No bitterness. Just memory and gratitude.

“I’m proud of you,” he said finally. “I’m proud of you too.”

You hugged.

It wasn’t a big moment. But it felt like one.

Later, you found Sunghoon by the lake.

The party noise faded behind you as you stepped onto the dock where he was sitting, feet dipped in the water.

“Hey,” you said, sitting beside him. He looked over and smiled, a little crooked. “Hey.”

The moon reflected off the water in a shimmering path. Fireflies blinked in and out like little secrets.

“Do you ever think about how different everything could’ve been?” you asked. “All the time,” he replied. “But I wouldn’t change a thing.” “Not even the hard stuff?” He shook his head. “Especially not the hard stuff. It led us here.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Me neither.”

The next morning was quiet.

You and Sunghoon made pancakes in your apartment, dancing around each other in the tiny kitchen, using too much syrup and playing the same five songs on repeat.

Lia stopped by to drop off a photo she’d printed — all of you on graduation day, arms slung around each other, sunlight catching your hair. You stuck it on the fridge.

Jake texted the group chat a picture of his dog in a graduation cap.

Jay sent a meme. Predictably inappropriate.

The world outside was already moving forward. Jobs. Applications. Apartments and internships and the looming weight of adulthood.

But inside your apartment, it was still.

Warm.

Home.

You stood on the balcony, coffee in hand, watching the city wake up.

Sunghoon joined you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“Ready?” he murmured. You leaned back into him. “More than ever.”

Graduation hadn’t been an ending.

It was just a page turning.

And now, you had the pen.

With people who knew you. Who loved you. Who stayed.

There were still things to fix. Still pieces that didn’t quite fit. Still questions you didn’t have answers to.

But for once, that didn’t scare you.

Because for the first time in a long time, your story didn’t feel like a storm.

It felt like a sky clearing.

You looked at Sunghoon And he looked at you like he already knew.

You reached for his hand.

“Let’s go,” you said. “Where to?” You smiled. “Anywhere.”

And so you walked, step by step, past the fading echoes of chaos, through the gentle quiet of something new, into whatever came next.

Together.

...The end.

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heeluvv · 3 months ago

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ᝰ.ᐟ premium content───엔하이픈

pairing ˎˊ˗ ot7 x fem reader

synopsis ˎˊ˗ you joined onlyfans to keep things anonymous—just quick content, easy money, and no strings attached. but when seven of the platform’s biggest creators suddenly subscribe, everything changes. they’re not just here to watch. they want in. the collab everyone’s been waiting for is finally happening… but this time, it’s not just for the fans.

status ˎˊ˗ 7/9 completed ♡

warnings ˎˊ˗ onlyfans au, poly! enha, exhibitionism/voyeurism, rough sex, slight possessive/jealous behavior, rough sex, praise & degradation kink, fingering, oral (m n f), unprotected sex, overstimulation, edging, orgasm denial, group sex, light choking/spanking, toy usage, etc.

natty's notes ˎˊ˗ this honestly started off as just a silly idea—a random “what if enhypen were onlyfans creators lol” thought that i fully intended to ignore. but then it spiraled. and spiraled. and suddenly i had nine chapters outlined, character arcs, and a reader caught between seven very unhinged men with cameras and control issues 😭 i also wanted to do something special to celebrate hitting 2k because holy shit—thank you. truly. for the love, for every reblog, message, and moment of support. you guys are the reason i keep going. anyways i hope you guys stay tuned for this, ilysm!

˗ˏˋ 01. new content dropped ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ 02. moan for the camera ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ 03. paid session ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ 04. boyfriend package unlocked ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ 05. my eyes only ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ 06. viewer submission challenge ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ 07. first timer ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ 08. watch me ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ 09. the final drop ˎˊ˗

⊹ ࣪ ˖ all content is original work by @heeluvv

↳ reuploads, translations, or plagiarism are not allowed.

support by liking, commenting, & reblogging!

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bywons · 3 months ago

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AFTER THE STORM ✿ 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇

𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬────𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋

❪ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝒾𝐒 ❫ ｡ 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋 1496wc 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 ✿ 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 贅沢／ 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐄

★REBLOG4KISS

LEE HEESEUNG

“so, you won’t talk to me at all?” heeseung pouts, staring at your back as you sit away from him on the couch, busy on some magazines. you flip through a page, the glossy sound a poor cover for the ache in your heart.

he sighs soft and slow, you hear the rustle of his socks against the carpet as he inches closer.

“y/n…” heeseung’s voice cracks as he calls out your name like a prayer, “i didn’t mean to lash out. i was angry— no, i was dumb. and i hurt you, i know.”

you stiffen, his words cutting deeper through you than he intended. heeseung notices.

he walks around, kneeling in front of you on the couch as his warm palms make contact with your knees, which pulls a gasp out of you. his eyes search your face—eyes rimmed with regret, his brows drawn together. “please look at me.”

your lips tremble, “you said that i make everything harder. that i’m exhausting.”

heeseung’s face crumples, heart beating faster in his ears as he feels his throat going dry, “i didn’t mean it. i was overwhelmed, but that doesn’t excuse anything.” he rests his forehead on your lap. “i love you. even when things are messy. especially then.”

you hesitate. then slowly tread your fingers through his hair. his grip around your waist tightens, “i’m never letting you go.”

PARK JONGSEONG

jay makes sure his footsteps are soft enough as he enters the kitchen like a cat— sneaking up behind you and wrapping your waist with his hands, his head resting on your shoulders.

“jay, what—” you gasp at his suddenness, pausing all your actions, “let go jay, i’m working.”

“i could help,” he whispers softly against your neck, lips warm on your skin, “tell you that i’m sorry?”

you lean into his touch involuntarily, his hair tickling your cheeks, “you always do this.”

“and i mean it everytime,” jay sighs. he guides your own hands as he holds them in his, slowly slicing the apples on the counter. “i’m sorry, darling. i meant none of it, i was just tired and well, i was being a jerk.”

you breathe in the sight, it’s impossible to stay angry at park jongseong. “and what if i’m still not impressed?”

jay laughs, sending a sweet vibration through your body as he presses soft kisses along your shoulders and neck, upto your jaw.

“then i’ll keep apologizing,” he murmurs, nuzzling closer, “until you are.”

you turn your head slightly, lips brushing his in the softest kiss, lingering.

“you’re such a menace,” you whisper.

“your menace,” jay smiles against your mouth, arms never letting go, the fruit knife long forgotten.

SIM JAEYUN

you glance at the collection of tulips,.baby breath, roses and what not. bouquets on your desk, on the bed, even a trail leading to where he stands.

“what is all this?” you ask, crossing your arms, your brows furrowed, refusing to let the flowers soften you just yet, “you think flowers can fix however you acted last night?”

jake shifts in his place, clearly uncomfortable of his behaviour. slowly, he takes a step towards you, “no, of course not. but i was afraid of approaching you.”

you roll your eyes, trying to ignore his pleading eyes and your favourite flowers laid out in front of you.

he swiftly picks up a single red rose from a bunch, and towers in front of you in no time. you don’t dare to look at him, and he prays to the universe that you do.

jake slowly gets down on one knee, holding the rose out to you with both hands like it’s everything he has.

“i messed up,” he murmurs, gaze unwavering. “but i swear, i’ll never let my temper speak louder than my love for you again.”

your breath hitches. he offers the rose gently. “please… just don’t walk away from me.”

you take the rose, eyes finally meeting his—and in that quiet beat, he stands up, pressing the softest kiss to your lips.

“i’m still mad,” you whisper.

he smiles. “i know.”

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon inches closer to you as the bed dips under his weight, waking you up.

“why- why are you here?” you groan in your drowsy state, hair disheveled as you look at sunghoon next to you— eyes puffy, lips swollen with a tired smile playing on it.

he was crying. “i couldn’t sleep,” he confesses, pushing a strand of hair behind your ears, “and… i missed you. come back to our bed?”

you sigh, heart softening at the sight of him—eyes red, voice fragile.

“hoon…” you whisper, reaching up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing beneath his eye. “don’t cry.”

“i messed up,” he murmurs, leaning into your touch, eyes fluttering closed. “i said awful things. i hate myself for it.”

you shift closer, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him down beside you. “you’re here now,” you whisper, forehead pressing to his. “we’re okay.”

he exhales shakily, arms curling around your waist as he buries his face in your neck.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers again, lips brushing your skin as he holds you tight. prepping kisses all over as he traces shapes on your back, “i’m so sorry, princess. i love you, so so much.”

KIM SUNOO

“but you don’t like chocolate,” you murmur softly as you pick around the ice cream with your spoon.

“anything for you,” sunoo says, giving you a smile which was both nervous and hopeful, “i think i deserve this punishment.” he takes a bite out of his own chocolate ice cream.

he scoops a bite of his chocolate ice cream and eats it, face scrunching immediately at the bitterness.

you try to suppress your laughter, but it comes out anyways as you punch his forearm, “sunoo! you don’t have to suffer through chocolate for me—”

“oh, no,” sunoo scoffs, pulling the bowl of chocolate closer to him in desperation, “i made you angry and…called you mean, i deserve this.”

you stifle a laugh. “you look like you’re in pain.”

“i am,” he says dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “but i’d rather eat a hundred bowls of this than go another minute with you mad at me.”

you set your spoon down and reach for his hand across the table. “you don’t need to suffer through chocolate, dummy. you just need to be honest with me next time.”

his fingers curl around yours, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

“deal,” he whispers, leaning in to gently kiss your knuckles.

YANG JUNGWON

“i can’t stand you crying,” jungwon gulps, his own throat aching as he notices your tear-stricken cheeks. “drink some water, please?”

you sniffle, taking the water bottle from him as he sits down beside you. “can i touch you?”

you want to say no after the argument you had with him, after he made you sob on your own. but god, it’s the way he never lets you go through anything alone, and it's the way he notices everything— melts your heart every time.

“yes,” you whisper.

jungwon sighs out of relief, not wasting a second before he pulls you into his lap, surprising you, as he wraps his arms tightly around you.

“i’m sorry,” he breathes, barely louder than the hum of your shaky breaths. “i should’ve listened. i should’ve stayed.”

you stay quiet, the comfort of his hold unraveling the tight knot in your chest.

“i hate that i made you cry,” he whispers, arms tightening slightly around your waist. “i know sorry isn’t enough, but... i’ll make it right. just don’t shut me out, please.”

his voice cracks at the end, and you turn your head slightly, just enough to see the sorrow in his eyes.

your lips meet his in a soft, trembling kiss—slow, searching, tender. his hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing a tear away as he kisses you again, like a silent vow.

NISHIMURA RIKI

“the punching bag didn’t upset you, did it?” riki gets startled by your words, turning quickly on his heels to meet you.

“y/n?” he whispers, almost running towards you as he towers over your nervous and disturbed figure. “are you finally… not mad at me?”

you huff, hesitating to touch him. “if i didn’t come to you, all this useless boxing would go on forever.”

riki knows that. he hates himself the most when you’re mad at him, and finds his solace in overworking himself. “do you..still hate me?” his voice cracks.

“no, riki. we solved it already,” you give in and cup his face, “we were both messed up and, i forgot about it. i let it go.”

riki leans into your touch, walking closer as he kisses the corner of your lips. once, twice and then you lose count as he pulls you in by the waist. “i’m still sorry though,” he whispers, voice full of guilt, “let me make it up to you, doll?”

스루 ܃ couldn’t sleep, so i locked in for this. heh .. can’t have sru nation starving 💌

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jellywonie · 2 days ago

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The Last Drop ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ K.SN

Pairing: vampire!sunoo x dying!reader

wc: 3.1k

Content: angst, tragedy, romance, terminal illness, death, moral dilemma, gothic romance, tragic love

a/n: this was inspired by me listening to A Match Into Water by ptv, I've never written in a gothic style before but I've read a lot so I tried

The grandfather clock in the corner of your bedroom chimes midnight, its hollow toll echoing through the Victorian manor like a funeral bell. Thirteen chimes—an impossibility that makes Sunoo's jaw tighten as he adjusts the heavy curtains against the storm raging outside.

You've been bedridden for three weeks now, your body finally surrendering to the illness that's been devouring you from within like some gothic curse. The four-poster bed, with its dark mahogany frame and bloodred velvet canopy, has become your world—beautiful and suffocating in equal measure.

"The clock is broken again," you whisper, voice barely audible above the thunder that shakes the ancient windows.

"Time has no meaning in this house," Sunoo replies, settling into the wingback chair he's claimed as his vigil post. Shadows dance across his pale features in the candlelight—you'd banned the electric lights weeks ago, preferring the romantic gloom that suits your current Gothic novel existence.

He looks like a painting himself, you think—something tragic and beautiful that might hang in a museum with a placard reading "The Mourning Lover" or "Death's Companion." His dark hair frames a face carved from marble, perfect and cold and utterly inhuman in its beauty.

"You're staring," he murmurs without looking at you.

"I'm memorizing." Your fingers trace patterns on the silk coverlet, each movement requiring more effort than it should. "In case."

"Don't."

"In case this is the last time I see you looking at me like I'm still alive instead of already dead."

His head snaps toward you, eyes flashing with something dangerous. "You are not dead."

"Not yet." You manage a smile that feels like autumn leaves—brittle and ready to crumble. "But we both know I'm dying, Sunoo. The doctors confirmed it yesterday. Days, not weeks."

The storm outside seems to intensify at your words, lightning illuminating the room in stark, electric moments that make everything look like a daguerreotype—beautiful and haunted and somehow not quite real.

"I could—" he begins, then stops himself.

"You could turn me." The words hang in the air like incense, heavy and intoxicating. "We both know it. We've both been thinking about it. Why won't you say it?"

He rises from the chair with fluid grace, moving to the tall windows where rain lashes against the glass like tears against a casket lid. "Because saying it makes it real. Makes it a choice instead of a fantasy."

"Maybe it's time for it to be real."

"You don't understand what you're asking." His voice carries the weight of centuries, of watching too many people die, of living with choices that can never be undone. "You think vampire novels are romantic—the eternal love, the passionate darkness. But you don't know what forever actually means."

"Tell me."

He turns from the window, and in the candlelight his eyes look ancient, haunted. "It means watching everything you love turn to dust. It means feeling your humanity slip away piece by piece until you're not sure if you ever had a soul to begin with. It means hunger that never truly ends, no matter how much you feed."

"It means never having to say goodbye to you."

"It means becoming a monster."

"You're not a monster." You struggle to sit up against the mountain of pillows, your wedding dress from last month now hanging loose on your wasting frame. You'd insisted on marrying him when the diagnosis came back terminal, a gothic romance playing out in a candlelit chapel with more shadows than guests.

"I've killed people," he says simply. "Drained them dry because I was hungry and they were convenient. I've walked away from dying children because saving them would mean damning them. I've lived through plagues and wars and done nothing to help because preserving the secret of what I am mattered more than human life."

"That was before me."

"Was it?" His laugh is bitter as winter wind. "Three months ago, I fed from a young woman in the village. She reminded me of you—same hair, same laugh. I told myself it was just hunger, but I know the truth. I wanted to practice, wanted to know what it would feel like to sink my fangs into your throat."

The confession should horrify you, but instead it sends a thrill through your dying body. "And how did it feel?"

"Empty." He moves closer to the bed, and you can see the self-loathing in his expression. "Because she wasn't you. Because no matter how much I took from her, she couldn't give me what I actually wanted."

"Which is?"

"You. Forever. Unchanging and perfect and mine for eternity." His voice drops to a whisper. "And that's exactly why I can't do it. Because I want it too much. Because I'd be turning you for selfish reasons, not because it's what's best for you."

Outside, the storm rages with renewed fury. Lightning splits the sky and in its brief illumination, you see something in Sunoo's face that takes your breath away—raw, desperate longing barely held in check by iron will.

"What if I want it too?" you ask. "What if I want to be yours forever?"

"You're dying. You're not thinking clearly."

"I've never thought more clearly in my life." The effort of speaking leaves you breathless, but you push on. "I know what I'm choosing. I know what I'm giving up. And I know what I'm gaining."

"You're giving up your soul."

"My soul is already yours." The truth of it rings through the room like a bell. "It has been since the night we met. The only question is whether you'll take the rest of me too."

He sinks onto the edge of the bed, the mattress barely dipping under his slight weight. His hand finds yours—cold marble against fevered flesh—and for a moment you sit in silence, listening to the storm and the irregular rhythm of your failing heart.

"I had a sister once," he says finally. "When I was human. She died of consumption—wasted away just like you are now. I held her hand as she died, listened to her beg for more time, more life. And I swore that if I ever had the power to save someone I loved, I would use it."

"Then why won't you save me?"

"Because I also swore I'd never force this curse on anyone else." His thumb traces across your knuckles with reverent care. "Because I've spent two hundred years trying to atone for the monster I became, and turning you would undo all of it."

"Even if it's what I want?"

"Especially if it's what you want." He looks at you with eyes full of centuries of regret. "Because I love you too much to trust my own motives."

The clock chimes again—impossible fourteenth chime that echoes through the house like a death knell. Your vision blurs at the edges, and you can feel your strength ebbing like tide going out to sea.

"Sunoo," you whisper, and his name sounds like a prayer. "I need you to listen to me. Really listen."

He leans closer, close enough that you can see the gold flecks in his dark eyes, can smell the faint scent of roses that always clings to his skin.

"I'm not afraid of becoming a monster," you tell him. "I'm afraid of leaving you alone. I'm afraid of you sitting in this room for the next hundred years, surrounded by my things, talking to my ghost."

"I would survive."

"Surviving isn't living." Your hand tightens on his with what little strength you have left. "And I won't condemn you to an eternity of mere survival because you're too noble to give us both what we want."

Thunder crashes overhead, and in the silence that follows, you can hear your heartbeat growing slower, more irregular. Time is running out, and you both know it.

"If you won't turn me," you say quietly, "then I need you to do something else."

"Anything."

"I need you to let me go."

His face goes ashen. "What?"

"The morphine. Dr. Whitmore left extra, said to use it if the pain became unbearable." You gesture weakly toward the medical supplies on the bedside table. "It would be peaceful. Quick. Better than wasting away for days while you torture yourself watching."

"No." The word comes out fierce, absolute. "I won't kill you."

"You wouldn't be killing me. You'd be loving me enough to spare us both a slow goodbye."

"I can't—"

"Then turn me." Your voice carries a strength that surprises you both. "Those are your choices, Sunoo. Save me or let me go peacefully. But I won't lie here dying by inches while you punish yourself for wanting to help me."

He stares at you for a long moment, something breaking behind his eyes. Then he's moving, standing and pacing to the window where lightning continues to fracture the sky.

"You make it sound so simple," he says to the storm.

"Love is simple. It's everything else that's complicated."

He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Simple. Yes, I suppose watching the person you love most in the world die could be considered simple."

"It could be beautiful," you whisper. "If you let it."

Another impossible chime from the broken clock—fifteen now, as if time itself is unraveling in this house where life and death dance together in the shadows.

When Sunoo turns from the window, his face is set with terrible resolution.

"If I do this," he says slowly, "if I turn you—there's no going back. No changing your mind in fifty years when you realize what you've lost."

"I know."

"You'll never see another sunrise. Never feel warm summer rain on your skin. Never have children, never grow old, never know peace."

"I'll have forever with you."

"You'll have forever with a monster."

"I'll have forever with the man I love." You struggle to sit up straighter, pouring everything you have left into your voice. "The man who reads me poetry in languages that died centuries ago. Who brings me flowers he's grown in moonlight. Who loves me enough to damn himself rather than damn me."

Something shifts in his expression—the last wall crumbling, the final defense falling away.

"And if I can't do it?" he asks. "If I lose my nerve?"

"Then you help me leave this world with dignity instead of pain."

He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, they're shining with unshed tears. "I love you," he says simply.

"I love you too."

The storm outside begins to quiet, rain softening from a torrent to a gentle patter against the windows. Sunoo moves back to the bed with the grace of a creature born to darkness, settling beside you on the bloodred coverlet.

"Tell me about the garden in Prague," you whisper, settling back against his chest.

It's a game you've played before—him describing the places he's been, the beauty he's witnessed across centuries of wandering. Tonight, he tells you about a monastery garden where he once spent a winter, watching snow fall on ancient stones while monks sang vespers in the distance.

His voice is soothing, painting pictures of beauty in the midst of everything dark about this moment. As he talks, your eyelids grow heavy, your breathing more shallow.

"Sleep," he murmurs against your hair. "I'll be here."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

You drift toward unconsciousness, his voice following you into dreams of snow and stones and songs that echo through eternity. In your dreams, you're walking through his garden, snowflakes in your hair, his hand in yours. The sun has set forever, but you're not afraid.

When you wake, the room is silent except for the soft patter of rain. The candles have burned lower, casting longer shadows across the Gothic architecture of your bedroom. Sunoo sits exactly where he was before, but something has changed. There's a stillness to him that speaks of decisions made, of crossroads chosen.

"What time is it?" you ask, though the broken clock has stopped chiming entirely.

"Nearly dawn."

Your body feels different—lighter somehow, as if you're already beginning to fade from the world. The monitors Dr. Whitmore insisted on installing beep slowly, erratically, marking the irregular rhythm of a heart that's forgetting how to beat.

"It's time, isn't it?"

He nods, unable to speak.

You study his face in the dim candlelight, memorizing every line, every shadow. Even in anguish, he's beautiful—otherworldly in a way that once made you wonder how someone like him could love someone like you. Now you understand that love doesn't follow rules of logic or fairness.

"Have you decided?" you ask.

"Yes." His voice is barely a whisper.

"And?"

He leans down, taking your face in his hands with infinite tenderness. His skin is cold as marble, but his touch burns like starfire.

"I've decided to love you enough to give you what you truly want," he says. "Even if it damns us both."

"What do I truly want?"

"To never have to say goodbye."

He kisses you then, soft and sweet and tasting of eternity. When he pulls back, his eyes have gone completely black, pupils blown wide with hunger and love and terrible purpose.

"It will hurt," he warns, voice rough with emotion. "But only for a moment."

"I'm not afraid."

"You should be. You should be terrified of what I'm about to make you."

"I'm only terrified of leaving you alone."

He nods, settling beside you fully now, pulling you against his chest. Your heart monitor beeps slower, more irregular—a countdown neither of you acknowledges.

"I love you," he whispers against your throat, lips finding the pulse that flutters there like a trapped bird.

"I love you too."

The pain, when it comes, is nothing like you expected. Instead of agony, there's a sharp sweetness, like the moment between sleeping and waking when anything seems possible. You feel your life flowing out of you and something else flowing in—cold and ancient and eternal.

Your last human thought is that you're not afraid. You can feel Sunoo's arms around you, holding you through the transformation, can hear him whispering promises against your skin.

The heart monitor flatlines with a long, steady tone that fills the Gothic bedroom like a funeral dirge. For a moment, there is only silence and the sound of rain against ancient windows.

Then—awakening. No breath needed, no heartbeat required, but a different kind of life flowing through veins that no longer carry warmth.

In the candlelit darkness, you open eyes that see too clearly, hear too much, feel everything with supernatural intensity. The world has become sharp-edged and overwhelming, every shadow deeper, every sound a symphony of noise you never noticed as a human.

But it's the hunger that hits you first—immediate, consuming, unlike anything you could have imagined. Not the gentle craving Sunoo had described, but a ravening beast that claws at your insides with desperate need.

"Sunoo," you gasp, sitting up too quickly, the movement unnaturally fluid. "Something's wrong. I can hear... everything. The mice in the walls, the servants' heartbeats three floors down, I can smell their blood and I want—" You stop, horrified by your own words.

His face is stricken as he reaches for you. "The hunger will settle. It always does. You just need to feed, and then—"

"No." You pull away from his touch, suddenly understanding what you've become with devastating clarity. "This isn't what I thought it would be. This isn't beautiful or romantic. I can hear Mrs. Chen crying in the kitchen because she thinks I've died. I can smell the fear on Dr. Whitmore as he climbs the stairs. I want to hunt them, Sunoo. I want to kill them."

"Those feelings will fade," he says desperately, but you can hear the lie in his voice. "With time, with practice—"

"Will they?" You look at your hands—pale as bone, fingers ending in subtle claws you hadn't noticed before. "Is this how you felt? When you were turned? Like a monster wearing the face of someone who used to be human?"

He can't answer, and his silence is answer enough.

"You saved my life," you whisper, and tears that will never fall again burn behind your eyes. "But you couldn't save me."

The realization settles between you like a death shroud. You have forever now, just as you wanted. Forever to love him, forever to never say goodbye. But the woman who loved him—the woman who read poetry and laughed at his stories and dreamed of growing old together—she died on this bed.

What sits here now wears her face and carries her memories, but the soul is something different. Something hungry and cold and beautifully damned.

"I'm sorry," Sunoo breathes, and for the first time in two centuries, fresh tears track down his marble cheeks. "I'm so sorry. I thought... I hoped you might be different, might retain more of yourself. But the hunger, the darkness—it takes everyone eventually."

"Not your fault," you say, though part of you—the monstrous part—whispers that it is. "I begged you for this. I chose this."

"You chose love. You got damnation."

You reach for him then, noting how your touch no longer brings him comfort but makes him flinch slightly. Even he can sense what you've become, what you've lost in the transformation.

"At least we have forever," you say, trying to find some comfort in the promise you'd clung to as you died.

But even as you say it, you both know the truth. You have forever, yes—but not the forever either of you had dreamed of. Not growing deeper in love, but growing deeper in darkness. Not finding joy in eternity, but finding new ways to hunger, to hurt, to become the very monsters he'd warned you about.

The broken clock chimes seventeen times, eighteen, nineteen—time fracturing around the weight of what's been lost and what's been gained. Outside, the storm breaks, leaving only the gentle sound of rain that you now hear with supernatural clarity, every drop a percussion that will never fade, never become background noise again.

"Forever," you whisper, and the word tastes like ashes and blood.

"Forever," he agrees, and pulls you close as dawn approaches hidden behind heavy curtains.

You are saved. You are damned. You are together.

And in the candlelit darkness of the Gothic manor, two monsters hold each other and mourn the humans they used to be, while eternity stretches before them like a beautiful, terrible dream from which there is no waking.

The rain washes the world clean, but some stains can never be removed.

#kpop #enhypen x reader #romance #sunoo x reader #enhypen scenarios #kim sunoo #vampire sunoo #enhypen #enhypen angst

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