— Good Guys Could Never | P.sh

Too Sweet

Toto Wolff x Reader

Max Verstappen x ex!Reader

Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)

I take my whiskеy neat

The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”

“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.

The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”

She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.

“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.

“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.

You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”

Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”

Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”

He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”

Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”

You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”

William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.

“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.

William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.

Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”

“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”

His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”

You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.

“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.

You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.

A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”

For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.

Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.

You deserve so much better than him.

The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.

“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”

“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.

Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.

“Suit yourself, then.”

As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.

Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.

***

“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.

Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.

“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.

That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.

You.

Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.

The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...

The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...

Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.

Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.

Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.

Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.

“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.

Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”

Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.

“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.

“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.

The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.

But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.

As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.

When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.

This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...

… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...

… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...

… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.

Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.

The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.

Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.

The whiskey burns on the way back up.

Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.

You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.

My coffee black

The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.

It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.

A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.

“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”

He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.

“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.

You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.

The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”

You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.

“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.

The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”

“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”

Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”

He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”

You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.

The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”

You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”

Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”

The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.

He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.

With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.

“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.

It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.

“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.

In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.

“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”

His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.

“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”

The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.

Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.

When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.

It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.

He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.

For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.

Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.

“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”

You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.

Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.

His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.

As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.

***

The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.

Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.

Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.

A pure vision of effortless contentment.

His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...

So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.

You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.

“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.

“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”

Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”

Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.

When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.

“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.

You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”

With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.

“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”

Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.

A look he always met with disdain and scorn.

Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.

The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.

“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”

You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”

Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.

Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.

“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”

You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.

“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”

Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.

“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”

Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.

Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.

It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.

In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.

And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.

And my bed at three

The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.

A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?

He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.

You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.

You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”

Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”

He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”

Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.

“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”

You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”

He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.

Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.

After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.

Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.

And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.

Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.

A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.

Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.

An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?

He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.

Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.

Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.

***

Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.

With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.

The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.

His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.

It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.

He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.

So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.

“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.

He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.

A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.

“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.

You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”

“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”

You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.

An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.

But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.

Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.

“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”

Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.

“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”

The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.

In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.

Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.

It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.

A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.

Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.

And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.

Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.

Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.

✘ WIP DIARY ── LAST NIGHT, I READ YOUR DIARY. (p.sh) ✘

Sunghoon has been trying be everything you need since your mother passed. A father, a friend, a therapist. You never really understood what your mother saw in him in the first place, if you’re being honest. He’s awkward, quiet, and typically used to keep to himself up until now. You’re impressed with his efforts by the time you’re entering into your senior year of college, though his entire demeanor towards you seems to have changed.  or the one where your step-father grows obsessed with you minute by minute. 

── step-dad /weirdo park sunghoon x afab reader  

── minors dni

── tags: sunghoon is in his 30s, reader is in her 20s so, age gap, step-cest, heartbreak, obsession, manipulation, coercion, stockholm syndrome-ish, fluff if he manipulates you as a reader lmfao, angst, smut. don't read this if you are easily triggered. ── side characters: heeseung as reader's ex boyfriend, jay as reader's closest friend

── !WARNINGS!: this work contains non-con, dub-con, and stalking behavior. your mom isn’t alive in this fic. warnings will be updated as i write.

── a/n: this one is gonna be a wild ride, that's all i gotta say.

LAST UPDATED: 12.22.24

⨯ est wordcount: 20k+ ⨯ current wordcount: 5.4k ⨯ est release date: tbd ⨯ taglist: ask to be on my perma tag list!

playlist ⨯ recommended song: last night i read your diary - gürl She's got me down on my knees I beg, I beg, I, I beg, I beg, please! I want it more than I need And I need it like I need to breathe Like I'm losing my- Choke.

PREVIEW (3.1k):

no warnings apply to the preview, it's just the first couple of thousand words for this fic. aka, the intro and the set up for what will inevitably happen later:

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Your first heartbreak is meant to be painful, but this? This is more painful than you could have ever imagined. 

Heeseung was one of your only constants in life. From childhood to high school it’s like he was there more than your own mother was, and certainly more than your own father. Even when she passed, Heeseung was the one who held you through it, he’s the one who made you smile again, he’s the one who made you feel like it was okay to heal and keep going. 

It’s the fact that it was a mutual break up that hurts the most because deep down, you couldn’t see yourself without him. Yet, still, you willingly watched him hop on the plane with a short kiss and long goodbye. It felt so final to you. You could have handled a long distance relationship, truly. But Heeseung didn’t want that. He wanted to explore the world, he wanted to try new things, be with new people. 

Do things without you clinging to him all the time. 

In a way, you understand that. After all, you’re the only girl he had ever been with up until now. Senior year of college. You think you knew your relationship was coming to an end by the time he announced he was going to be studying abroad for his final year without ever once even telling you he was applying to do so. 

So, yeah, it was mutual solely because you want him to be happy and he’s made it clear that he believes that can only happen without you. Such is life. Painful, painful fucking life.  

Just last year when your mother passed, you nearly dropped out and Heeseung had been your rock to make it through class after class with a grade barely high enough to pass. You’re certain some of your professors took pity on you and raised your grade just enough to move forward. You’ll forever thank them for recognizing how hard you were trying. But now? Without your mother, without Heeseung, you’re at a loss.

And there’s a difference between loneliness and isolation, you think. Loneliness to you always hits hard during small spaces in your day, like when you’d get into Heeseung’s car and he would close your door for you. The silence always hurt your ears while he was still making his way around the car to the driver’s seat. A shallow loneliness that you could feel right at the top of your gut, like it was squeezing inside of you and making you lose your appetite. Solely because that silence reminded you of what you always had, a lack of loneliness because of him.

But then there’s isolation. Where it feels forced upon you by other people. Your mother fucking died, Heeseung fucking left, and now you’re just here expected to wake up like you always do, go to class, study hard, sleep well, when the reality of it is– you’re genuinely struggling just to look at yourself in the mirror. 

Then there’s Sunghoon. The only person close enough to you now that you can reach out to. The issue with that is– you’ve never actually been close. And that’s what sucks. The fact that he of all people is all you have now? May as well just assume you have nobody.

His regular calls mean close to nothing to you in the grand scheme of things. Despite him calling twice a week every week since your mother died, your step-father is just as distanced from you as you are him. You’re aware that it’s his obligation, not because he cares. And that hurts, because it’s all you have now. 

Now, you have to try and find meaning in those short calls. After all, Sunghoon fell apart when your mother passed all on his own and you had only called him out of obligation too. You were already in college and stressed, falling apart yourself with someone to love beside you helping you through it. Calling him when it all happened felt empty because you knew both of you were trying to hold it together and save face. 

It wasn’t like this before she died. In fact, he never called and you never cared for him to. You’d see each other when you were home, share awkward pleasantries, and that’s it. It’s hard to believe that now you feel like you need a father, after all those years of practically rejecting him as one. He seemed fine with that after you hit your teen years. He knew by then that he could never be the father you want, but at least he could be the husband your mother needed.

You have grief in common now though. Loneliness. Isolation.

You try not to think about how you were okay up until now though. Having Heeseung to fall back on to soften the blow of your loss, you guess Sunghoon didn’t have that. Maybe his monotone voice and empty words were his way of coping, his way of hearing a voice that wasn’t the one in his own head when he calls you. 

It’s just you and a man you never considered family past the titles and obligatory respects. Finding meaning in his short phone calls does nothing to help your growing isolation, but you cling to them now that Heeseung is gone. You wait for the calls, you ask him to check in with you every day now, to the point Sunghoon starts to notice the difference in you.

No longer rushing to get off the phone. Now, you’re dragging on meaningless conversations. Now, he hears cracks in your voice. 

“You feeling okay?” Sunghoon asks you, in a way that makes you wonder how he’s able to tell that you’re definitely not. The way his own voice has a bit of life to it when he asks it…strange too. Like he’s concerned. 

“No–” You trail off in your meek voice, staring at your ceiling and mind swirling with all of the work you need to get done for classes already. “I’ve only been in classes for a week and I already feel like I’m drowning.” 

Sunghoon sighs into the speaker, contemplating how to further the conversation with you in a way that isn’t too intrusive. After all, who is he to pry? Still, he never intended for you to feel neglected or like you couldn’t come to him. After all, you were too happy about his lack of parenting you throughout his presence in your life. 

He finds solace in the fact that you’ve been accepting him now, though he hasn’t the slightest idea as to why. He’s checked in with you since the passing, but lately it feels to him like something more is going on with you. He may be somewhat estranged, and he may have his own problems to deal with, but you’re still someone he needs to be here for.

Plus, it makes him feel needed again, which is nice considering the circumstances. After living in this bustling house with you and your mom for so long, to it just being him and your mom, to now just him…all that remains now is dread, dissociation, and unwashed dishes in the sink.

“Did something happen?” Sunghoon keeps his questions short, offering more silence if anything for you to use this call as a therapy session if you need. 

You pause for a long moment, realizing that you want to talk about your issues so badly but don’t quite feel the need to share it with him of all people. You’ve already ranted day after day to Jay. To the point you’re sure he’s about one rant away from blocking your number. 

Probably because you’re not that close to him either. Not these days, anyway.

You sigh instead. 

“No…” You trail off. “I think I just miss being home. My dorm mate is never here, class work is already piling up, and I can’t even find the energy to look at the assignments.” 

Sunghoon can tell you’re feeling much like he does and he can’t imagine the weight on your shoulders dealing with these feelings while also in college. But, you have Heeseung, do you not? You’ve been fine for the most part until now, and you haven’t even brought him up. Not once in the past few weeks has his name been uttered by you. Which is strange, after all, the two of you were practically attached at the hip growing up, to the point of choosing the same college, working the same jobs, and even keeping that middle-school puppy love in full swing throughout highschool and college. 

If anything, after your mother passed, Sunghoon felt okay knowing you had Heeseung there with you to help you through it. It meant he could focus on himself and getting through the day-to-day. He could barely handle his own mournful thoughts, let alone the daughter’s feelings of the woman he loved so dearly. He was forever grateful for Heeseung during this time. 

He has his suspicions now though, and his heart aches for the voice he hears from you these days. 

“Why don’t you come home for a while?” He lends a pause to see if you’ll jump for the opportunity before selling the idea to you. “I have the bills here covered and your campus is only a forty minute drive. I’m sure that’s inconvenient but you won’t have bills to worry about on top of everything else.” He doesn’t want to sound too desperate, of course. 

After all, the loneliness he’s feeling is also becoming unbearable. Even if the two of you never were able to see eye to eye, or to form a bond together, you’re all he has left of your mother. He, arguably, is nothing to you, but there’s no one else in this world he’d rather heal the loneliness with outside of you. Only because you knew your mother on a level deeper than he did, and to have someone to share those memories with, or even laugh with, would help him tremendously too.

“I think being at home may do you some good.” 

You think it over in your head, wondering if being home will help you at all. In reality, you know it may make you feel more trapped than you do now. All those memories with your mother, with Heeseung, with all of your friends that have since moved to different colleges. 

But…you wouldn’t be alone. You’d be with someone who knows how to give you space because he’s never even tried to shrink your existence to that of your bedroom and your bedroom alone. You wouldn’t have to worry about rent, food, or anything aside from studies, gas money, and trying to heal from your heartbreak. 

Your dorm is small, you note as you look around the room and wonder how long it would take you to pack your things up. Two hours, give or take. The longest part would be taking all of the little decorations off the wall, if you’re being honest. 

You find yourself nodding before answering, solidifying in your mind that– maybe you’re not the only one who needs company in your space. Not too close, but close enough to not be totally isolated. 

“Okay.” You mutter into the phone, for some reason feeling the tears well up behind your eyes. 

You’re just a bit overwhelmed, that’s all. Knowing you’re going home feels like a relief you didn’t know you needed. 

“Yeah?” Sunghoon confirms. “Just let me know when and I’ll drive up there to help get your stuff back home.” 

You agree, sighing into the phone with a shaking voice. Sunghoon takes note of it, always remembering and quite frankly missing how loud and obnoxious you used to be. Hearing you like this pains him. He wants to help. Now more than ever is his chance to be someone you need, and he hates knowing he feels happy about it. 

Getting to be your father now? It feels awkward, but at least it’s a feeling other than loss. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Sunghoon sighs at you through the speaker. “I know I’m not someone you like coming to but–well, I’d like for you to rely on me more, okay?” 

You find a lot of comfort in those words, despite hearing him say them time and time again. This is the first time he’s ever shown that he means it through the offer of bringing you home, rather than just saying it and accepting whatever you say back to him at face value. 

“I know…” You trail off. “I’m okay though, really.” 

Sunghoon hates himself for never forcing you to accept him. Sure, there may have been some teenage defiance towards him, but eventually the two of you could have seen eye to eye. He could have been someone you needed. You could have relied on him too, rather than just Heeseung. That’s all he can really think right now. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing else going on?” The man nearly pleads in his tone, desperate to have someone rely on him again. “I’ve never heard you sound so exhausted before, I can’t help but worry.”

You’d tell him, but honestly, what grown ass man wants to hear about a first heartbreak? It would just get awkward again, he’d just feel obligated to do something about it, and worse, he might end up feeling like he’s supposed to dislike Heeseung now. 

You choose to remain silent in the final straw that broke your back this semester. 

“Really, I’m just tired.” You nod to yourself as you hold your phone loosely against your ear. “I might not go to class tomorrow and just pack instead. I’ll just call you when I’m ready, is that okay?”

Sunghoon smiles to himself, wanting to mean something to you in a way that can hopefully help you out of this slump. Your mother would be throwing a fit if she heard how you’ve been sounding, he can’t help but take over that role and try to make damn sure you are okay. 

“That’s fine,” Sunghoon confirms. “I’ll call and let them know what’s going on so don’t worry about any of that. Just get yourself ready to come back home.” 

You find yourself smiling, relieved that you don’t have to be the one to contact your school and tell them that…well, you’re breaking your student-lease, dropping your food plan, and need to be reimbursed for partial tuition costs since Sunghoon insists every semester that you purchase tuition insurance. You should no longer be charged to live on campus, or for the facilities within the dorm. 

Knowing you’ll at least get back a couple thousand dollars is a nice change of pace, and already you’re feeling weirdly excited to go back to a space that will likely make you miss your mother more. It’ll hurt, but at least you won’t be alone anymore. 

The forty minute drive to campus feels less horrifying now, and maybe your friends will still come and hang out with you in your actual home rather than a tiny dorm. 

“Sounds good.” You say, as if to end the call before you mutter out again. “Thank you, by the way. Sunghoon, really.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon knew he was spiraling further and further into his loneliness. He knew it wasn’t healthy either, but now. Oh, now he realizes just how bad it’s gotten as he demonizes himself upon picking you up. 

You haven’t come home since your mother’s funeral, and even on that day he barely remembers what you looked like. Eye contact was never a thing for him, but looking at you now, he sees how much you’ve matured since you went off to college. 

Your once bright, excited eyes have turned dull and empty. The bags under them are heavy from lack of sleep. Your lips appear to be in a permanent state of pouting, though he isn’t sure if you’ve noticed. You appear to have lost weight, which is concerning for him of course, but…there’s something else about you.

Something that sits in the pit of his stomach and rots.

“Uh–” You cough, noting the way Sunghoon looks at you as you try to hand him a large box. “Thank you for helping me move my stuff back…” 

Sunghoon snaps out of his thoughts, grabbing a heavy box and then waiting for you to stack another on top. 

“No big deal,” He mutters, feeling the weight in his hands double as he prepares to carefully carry your things out to his car. “You haven’t come home in over a year, but I’ve fixed up your room for you and went ahead and connected my gaming system in there.”

You nod quietly, feeling awkward for how fatherly he seems.

“Thanks…” You trail off, flopping a pile of your things into his trunk before stopping to look at him. “You look like shit.”

Sunghoon furrows his brows, noticing for a split second how that facial expression you made is very similar to one his wife used to throw at him when he’d have hair out of place, or a wardrobe malfunction. And then he smiles. 

“You’re not looking too good yourself.” He jokes back.

You smile back at him, feeling a bit of the awkward air fizzle away. 

“Well, I’m not doing well, so.” 

You were continuing the joke, but his face falls before yours does. 

“You can talk to me–” He starts.

“I know, I know.” You wave him off. “I’ll feel a lot better once we get back and I can settle in.

There’s a nod from him now, and then silence as the two of you continue to put the rest of your belongings into both his car and your own. 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in a bit?” You say now, awkwardly.

Sunghoon nods, looking you over once again.

“See you in a bit.” 

   ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Shame.

Pure fucking shame. 

Sunghoon knew he needed another presence in this house but upon seeing you again, he knew it may have been a mistake. 

He likes to think of himself as level headed. He’s never gotten into any trouble, never had a stray thought, never cheated, lied, or stole anything. He can’t think of a single thing that he’s done in life to be considered taboo.  But looking at you feels…incorrect?

Indecent? 

You’re his step-daughter for fuck sake but it’s the fact that you don’t feel like you are. When he looks at you, he just sees another person. He did this to help you, he did this to feel needed, to be your fucking father. 

He did not do this to look at you this way or to feel his eye stray even without his intention.

Why do you look so much like her? Why do you do that thing with your pinky when you carry things like she did? You even have a similar smell, probably having picked up on your mother’s habits throughout childhood. 

You being here…It’s like she’s still here. Except it’s you, and he can’t be thinking this way. 

 ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

This fic will be dark, very taboo, morally bad. Not a grey area, it is blatantly bad. sunghoon will do bad things. Please be aware of your own triggers once it's completed and posted. remember that I write within my own triggers, not yours. That being said! Please do show lots of love if this is a fic you're interested in reading! If you want to be tagged, I have a permanent tag list, there are not any separate tag lists for individual fics so keep that in mind.  ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Beyond 7 Minutes in Heaven [Sunghoon.]

Abstract: 7 minutes in heaven with Sunghoon except within the 7 minutes nothing happened. Then when it was time to go out, you two found yourselves locked and things started to go awry.

“Not funny guys,” you exclaimed as the panic was beginning to set in. You can hear the boys, at the other side of the door, making a ruckus, accusing each other as being the last one to have held or saw the key. Amidst all the cacophony of noise, you can also hear what sounded like Jay and Ni-Ki giggling mischievously at your predicament. Knowing their track record at mischiefs, you won’t even be surprised if this had been planned by those two all along.

It was the end of the Fall Semester and as per usual tradition, the boys from Block E at your student hall decided to throw a party. Normally, you would have avoided parties like a plague but it was your final year in university so you decided to stray out of habit and be socially adventurous for once. You weren’t exactly strangers with the boys either — in fact, you were close with Sunghoon and Jay, both of whom were in your Economics module, thanks to your lecturer putting you guys in a study group for one whole semester together.

As expected, Jay had invited almost the entirety of campus to the party and not even an hour into the party, you can already feel your head spinning from the bedlam of noises. Just as luck would have had it though, as you were about to quietly slip out of the party, Jay got a hold of you, roping you suddenly into a game of Truth or Dare, promising that he would let you go if the bottle does not land on you during the first three spins. You begrudgingly agreed, thinking that in a crowd of around 30 people, the odds are pretty slim and indeed it was, as the third spin landed on Sunghoon. You remember heaving a huge sigh of relief and was just ready to just dash off from the crowd, when suddenly in some sort of cruel twist of fate, the dare that Ni-Ki, the mischievous and youngest one from the group, threw to Sunghoon was a ‘7 Minutes in Heaven’ with you. Yes, of all the people there, he chose you.

That was how you ended up stuck in a small closet with the campus heartthrob at 12AM on a Saturday night — and if that, in itself, was not preposterous enough, the boys also somehow lost the key to the closet, effectively locking you alone with Sunghoon for who knows how long.

“Look who’s got more time to go beyond the first base now,” you hear Jay shriek from the other side of the door, followed by the sound of, possibly, his arm getting smacked by Jungwon, the voice of reason of the group, “Don’t worry guys, the keys should still be in the living room somewhere — it can’t just disappear into the thin air,” Jungwon added, trying to inject some sort of calm amidst the chaos, “Otherwise, I’ll just run to the main office down the street to get help from security.”

“Uh no way. In case you forgot, we’re holding a party right now — it’s against the rules. The people in admin would have a field day,” Sunoo protested.

“But we can’t let them just stay in there — they’ll run out of oxygen!” Jake, the saint of the group, bemoaned, “Look, a person’s pulse can increase up to 100 beats per minute or more when they kiss so assuming that they have been making out for the past 7 minutes straight and considering the dimensions of the walk-in closet, that’d mean -“

“Excuse me, we definitely have not been -“ you protested, only to get cut off by Heeseung, “You have a point Jake — well, we can always kick the door open? It’s faster?”

You sighed, turning to Sunghoon beside you, “they’re not listening are they?”

Sunghoon shook his head, “guys, can I just remind you that we have broken the tv and the vacuum cleaner — let’s try to not further taint our reputation alright, we’re just one furniture or appliance away from being labelled the official vandals of the block.”

You can hear the boys agreeing before launching off on another debate of who held the keys last . You sighed again, letting go of the doorknob and rested your forehead on the door, lamenting, “Can this night get any worse….”

“Oh come on, you make it sound like we got ourselves stuck in a bunker,” Sunghoon scoffed as he nonchalantly walked away from the door towards the end of the room to sit atop the base cabinets that lined the walls, “Trust me, Jungwon will get us out, by hook or by crook, whether it is by alarming the security or breaking the door.”

“Aren’t you being too calm about this?” You raised an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms.

“I’m stuck with my bestfriend — I have no complaints,” he shrugged before beckoning you to join him, “Come on, sit. I know I have prominent canines but I don’t bite.”

You pressed your lips together forming a tight-lipped smile as you nodded, taking a seat atop of the cabinet beside him, “You’re right, I could have been stuck with a total stranger.”

“You think this is like karma getting back at us for not making out for the past 7 minutes?” Sunghoon uttered, his face was so impassive that if you hadn’t known him well, you would’ve thought he was serious.

“If anything, Karma would’ve hit me if I make out with you,” you replied as a matter-of-factly, “in the form of your campus fans that is. I am pretty sure, this would be enough impetus for them to sharpen their pitchforks tonight and burn me at stake tomorrow. Maybe I should submit an anonymous post on the uni’s online page clarifying “dont worry you psychos — nothing happened in the closet. We played Jenga instead.””

Sunghoon sniggered, “as true as that was for the past 7 minutes — now that you said it out loud, it sounds like a lie you’d tell your parents when you’re caught quietly slipping back into your home at 5AM after a date.”

“I can tell you must’ve used that excuse a lot,” you replied sarcastically, elbowing him gently.

“Oh definitely not me,” Sunghoon smirked as he leaned closer to your ears, whispering, “The girls I send home at 5AM do.”

“Ugh, gross,” you grimaced, lightly kicking his foot, “What happened to the modest and shy Park Sunghoon that befriended me from 2 years ago?”

“I’m kidding,” he chuckled, kicking your foot back gently, "the only girl I’ve sent home at 5AM is you ‘cause you insisted on staying at the library until the wee hours.”Despite being knackered from his evening ice skating practices, Sunghoon would always stop by the library if he knows you’re staying in there until late. Most of the time he would join you but instead of studying, he just sleeps, waking up only once you’re starting to pack up as if he came just to make sure you’d have someone to walk you home. In fact, Sunghoon was pretty adamant at committing this particular selfless yet unnecessary act that you ended up stopping your overnight library stays just so that he can get enough sleep. “At this rate, you two might as well date,” is what Jay would often say — not that you two ever dared to entertain that possibility though.

“Really? For a campus heartthrob, that sounds very sad,” you quipped, “You should really get your priorities straight. Get a girlfriend or something — with the amount of girls lining up for you, you can just pick and choose.”

“I know right,” he murmured, “that’s probably why people keep on thinking we’re actually together ‘cause you’re the only girl I spend an inordinate amount of time with.”

“And now we are also stuck in a closet together — it’s like adding oil to the fire. I will definitely be burnt at stake tomorrow.”

“Oh come on,” he wrapped an arm over your shoulder, “Aside from the obvious fact that you’re stuck with the campus heartthrob, which is an opportunity millions would kill for, you’re also stuck with your bestfriend — am I not the ideal candidate to be stuck with compared to others, say Jay or Jake or Heeseung?”

“They’re not so bad. Jay’s fun to be with, Jake’s a saint and Heeseung is well-mannered, I don’t see why-“

“I meant,” he interjected, “if you’re stuck with them, you’d definitely be in a 7 minutes in heaven, or hell, situation alright. I mean, Jay’s a daredevil, he wouldn’t even hesitate; Jake’s a massive flirt and Heeseung, well, the guy is smooth as heck with a lot of experience, he’ll definitely —“

“Eww, Sunghoon what the heck,” you shoved him away, “Right, now that you say it — you’re definitely the best candidate as you’re probably like the tamest or something.”

“I’m sure that was meant to be a compliment but I feel slightly offended,” he raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

“Oh - by the way, speaking of Heeseung, I've told you that we’re in a group together for Mathematical Analysis Right?” you tapped his arm excitedly, “Well, we ended up scoring the highest for the group project and ever since then people have been calling us the 'Dream Team'!"

Always so supportive, Sunghoon beamed, “Really? Well, I wouldn’t expect any less from you.”

"I mean, to understand how miraculous this is you need to know that we have never been friendly with one another. In fact, I've always felt that he hated me since he's very competitive and I was amongst the top scorers in class — well, the feeling was mutual I guess, I didn’t like him much either. Not when he seem to always be out for blood, mine specifically, whenever it’s exam time anyway,” you continued jabbering excitedly, oblivious of Sunghoon’s faltering expressions, “But hey, we ended up working so well together. In fact, we did not just work well together but we hit it off well too, which again, takes me by surprise.”

By right, Sunghoon thought he should have been happy since two of his best friends got along well but somehow, the more you talk about him, the more unsettled he felt. It was the exact same feeling that dawned on him whenever he heard Heeseung sung praises about you. Except, this time, now that he hears it from you like some sort of reciprocity, it somehow stung, “You’re not developing a crush on him are you?”

“I- what- of course not,” you stared at him incredulously, “He is, objectively speaking, almost immaculate in every aspect though. The looks, the grades, the skills — it’s basically ridiculous. I would’ve thought he would have a bad personality because you know, humans are supposed to have a flaw but welp, boy’s also kind and caring —“

“You should probably stop hanging out with him,” Sunghoon blurted, “he's popular with girls and he also has a lot of female friends — you’re setting yourself up for a heartbreak.”

“Dude, I told you, I don’t have feelings for him why would I-“

“Okay, but what if he likes you.”

“You said it himself, he has a lot of female friends/acquaintances — they’re all hot too, so I am 100% certain he wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that — you’re bad at picking up romantic cues anyway,” he retorted, remembering all the time Heeseung looked all gleeful whenever he came home from hanging out or studying with you — looking absolutely lovestruck. Sunghoon would know of course, afterall he had lived with him for almost 3 years now — he knows Heeseung don’t just look like that after hanging out with anyone. Not that Sunghoon wanted to tell you all that though.

“Oh that’s rich coming from the so called ‘Ice Prince’ — just so you know the nickname is not just meant to describe your ice-skating prowess or your beauty, it’s meant to also describe how seemingly aromantic you are,” you countered.

“Wait, me? aromantic?” He scoffed, looking slightly offended.

“I mean you never really respond to anyone’s advances nor did it seem like you care — I guess that’s how you acquired the reputation,” you shrugged. Noticing his cold expressions, you backpedaled, thinking maybe you had gotten too far, “I mean, that’s not bad. Life does not revolve around romance and look at us now — we’re not all up in each other — ” you stopped yourself, feeling suddenly awkward.

“In each other’s what?” Sunghoon muttered.

“It doesn’t m—“

“In each other’s face?” He cut you off sharply as he hopped off the cabinets. With an unchanging expression, he turned towards you, lowering himself as he placed both hands against the edge of the cabinet, on either side of you, effectively caging you in.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, slightly taken aback, “Dude, what the heck?”

“If I was aromantic like you said, nothing would happen right? So what are you afraid of?” He smirked, “What now? I thought you have ice in your veins. Are you suddenly feeling shy?”

“Shy? More like you’re taking my share of oxygen by being so close,” you argued, “Also, if the boys come in, they’d misunderstand.”

“It’s a 7 minutes in heaven, it’s well within the context,” he replied curtly, the grin gradually fading as his gaze, usually gentle and adoring, darkened with such intensity never-before-seen that it was beginning to fill you with trepidation.

You can feel your heart beginning to pick up pace — perhaps, it was the Oxygen in the room really depleting; perhaps the dimmed lighting was beginning to make you feel increasingly claustrophobic or perhaps, as much as you wanted to deny it, it was because of Sunghoon. While this was not the first time you had been this close to him, his proximity to you tonight felt almost as if you’re onboard of a ship that is about to crash onto an iceberg.

Prone to being over-analytical and overly strategic at times — a pitfall for social situations as Jay always say — you often are able to figure most people out and stay 2 steps ahead of them. This includes Sunghoon. He is afterall an epitome of structure and security which means, for someone like you, he’s predictable most of the time. Yet that night, your mind was going into overdrive trying to ponder what exactly the usually predictable Sunghoon was trying to do. As Sunghoon is highly pragmatic and nonexperimental with a preference tending towards familiarity and stability, you know Sunghoon would never just kiss someone just for the sake of it as he would take the ramifications of a kiss seriously. And with a best friend, the ramifications spill far greater for the overthinker to bear.

In fact, whenever someone asks him as to why he does not date around despite his popularity, he always maintainted that regardless of how he feels, he’d never act on it unless he is certain that the other party feels the same way and is in it for the long run rather than just for the thrill or heat of the moment. You call it risk-averse, he calls it being risk-smart, only engaging in calculated risks.

Yet, despite all the arguments you conjure up in your head to convince yourself that he was just messing around, his actions as well as the cold and steely gaze that was increasingly unnerving you, screamed otherwise. That said, you thought, if you overreact and it turns out he was indeed messing around, he would use it as some sort of bragging rights from here onwards for having successfully made you be all flustered. No way I’ll let him have that, you thought to yourself, two can play the game.

Little did you know, Sunghoon too was in shambles inside. He knew this feeling: the magnetic pull that he sometimes get when he stares too long and too deeply into your eyes followed by the fluttery sensation in his stomach and the hammering in his chest. Yet, every other time it dawned on him, his pragmatism and risk-aversion will always pull him back to reality. But that night, something seemed to have set him off: he didn’t know what it was, was it the context that was increasingly lulling him; was it the way you talk about Heeseung earlier; was it the way you look up at him and the way your hands brushed against his earlier; was it because you just called him the ‘tamest’ compared to the rest? Who knows. All that he knew for certain right at that moment was that his grips were tightening as if he was trying to grasp at every last piece of reason that is left in him to stop himself from acting so rashly. Suddenly, Jake’s words from a few weeks ago came to his mind.

“Dude, you got it bad,” Jake shook his head dismissively, “Sooner or later you’d have to face your feelings okay. Sitting on it will only make it fester, increasing the risks of it blowing up in uglier ways in the future.”

“We’re just best friends — it’s platonic,” Sunghoon maintained, for the umpteenth time.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Jake raised his eyebrows before shrugging, “whatever, it’s your life. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you okay.”

Without realizing, he had begun to slowly lean in, his eyes glued onto your eyes as if under some kind of hypnosis before lingering onto your lips. As much as you wanted to stay unperturbed, the increasing proximity was unnerving you that you backed away at the same pace, “You’re not.. drunk are you?”

He finally stopped, his eyes darted back to yours, threatening to bore holes, “as sober as ever.”

And with that, as if a thread has been snapped, he had leaned in completely — his lips now colliding with yours. You froze — unable to immediately register the sudden turn of events. The next thing you knew, he had wrapped his hand across the back of your neck, deepening the kiss, while the other arm snaked across your back, pulling you close towards him and closing whatever small gap there was between you two.

As the air begin to feel tighter, the realization then begin to dawn and in that instant, you used all your strength to push him and tear yourself away from his grasps. For a moment you two just stared each other — dazed and breathless.

“Park Sunghoon, if that was your idea of messing around — you had definitely gone overboard,” you muttered, staring at him in disbelief.

Sunghoon scoffed, “You think that was just me being mischievous? Have you ev—”

Just then you hear the door click, “Thank God, you guys are fine!” Jake cried out of relief as soon as he saw you guys, “We’ve been knocking for the past few minutes and you guys weren’t answering, thought you guys fainted or something!”

“Wait what hell is this Jenga doing here?” Jay, who followed closely behind Jake, grumbled, pointing at the colourful Jenga blocks in the middle of the room — the one you and Sunghoon used to kill time earlier, “Don’t tell me this is what you two were playing with instead of making out?!”

You forced a chuckle, hoping that would have masked the panic that was rising within you, as you proceeded to lie, “Duh obviously. You guys put two of the most aromantic people in the party together, what did you expect?”

“Wow, I’m disappointed in both of you,” Jay shook his head in dismay, “but whatever, two bestfriends kissing each other would’ve meant messy business so—”

“You look flushed y/n, you okay?” Jungwon asked, lowering his head to get a clearer look at you, “I guess it must’ve been hot in here. Let’s go out. Sorry about earlier, apparent someone wa —” he continued to ramble while you just nodded and smiled — pretending you were attentively listening when truthfully, nothing was registering for your mind was in such a state of disarray. You did not even dare to look back at Sunghoon, not at that moment at least.

“Hey buddy come on,” Jake called out to Sunghoon who seemed to be rooted on spot, his eyes glued at the remnants of the collapsed Jenga tower. “That’s funny,” Sunghoon muttered to himself quietly as he thought just how perfectly the sight of the collapsed tower seemed to mirror the state of your friendship with him that night.

____________________________

Author's note: I know, I know — it’s a cliffhanger hahah. Do you guys think this warrants a part 2? or is it best left hanging, because yknow, life is usually like that hahah anyways this was actually the first ever draft I’ve ever made that is Enhypen-related and somehow this was also the one that took the longest to finish, I was just never satisfied with it. But anyways, I digress, I hope you guys like this :3 my ask box is open if anyone would like to drop me some love or request hehe! (ps. click me if you wish to visit my masterlist )

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A Quiet Goodbye

tw:ANGSTTTTT, I love making people cry. it's my favorite hobby. enjoyyyy.

Imagine you and Sukuna were once best friends, long before his acting career took off and he became one of the most famous actors known for playing evil characters. He had other friends, plenty of them, but somehow he always managed to find his way back to you. It was a pattern—whenever he found a new girl, he would stop talking to you. You would pull away, not wanting to make the girls uncomfortable or give them the wrong idea. And each time, he would block you without a second thought.

You were always alone. You didn’t have many friends, and most people didn’t know much about you. But you had always loved him, harbored a quiet, aching crush that never seemed to go away. Once, you’d even gathered the courage to tell him, only for him to reject you outright, coldly saying he had never thought you were pretty or special in any way.

And then, one day, he introduced you to one of his friends, Naoya Zenin. At first, Naoya seemed nice, even charming, though he’d occasionally say things that made your stomach twist. You brushed it off, thinking he was just another one of those "red pill" guys—annoying but harmless. You went on two dates with him before things took a dark turn.

Without warning, his mood shifted. His anger flared over something you couldn't even understand, and he raised his hand against you. The hit came so fast, so hard, that for a moment you thought you might die. When you finally managed to escape, battered and broken, you went to Sukuna, desperate for some kind of support, some validation that what you went through was real.

But he looked at you, stunned. He couldn’t believe it—couldn't comprehend how someone could be so cruel, how anyone could leave you looking like this, with your skin bruised and spirit crushed.

That was when everything began to change between you and Sukuna. Suddenly, he started giving mixed signals, confusing hints that he might like you after all. You didn't see it—you couldn't. Not after he’d told you so bluntly that he would never be with someone like you, that you were ugly, unworthy of his affection.

But now, he was being… different. Kinder, gentler. He stopped talking to other girls, his focus shifting entirely to you. Yet you still couldn’t put two and two together until the day he confessed.

And so, the relationship began.

What Sukuna hadn’t told you was how much he actually valued your friendship. There had always been this inexplicable pull toward you, something he could never quite resist, even when he wanted to. His friends would often tease him for hanging out with you, mocking him for being seen with someone they deemed so ordinary. But he couldn’t help it—being near you brought him a strange sense of peace, a quiet he couldn’t find anywhere else.

He had never looked at you and thought, Yes, she’s beautiful, she’s hot. He’d never felt that kind of attraction to you, nothing like what he felt with other girls. But after seeing what Naoya had done to you—the bruises on your face, the purple marks on your neck—something in him broke. Guilt gnawed at his insides, sharp and unrelenting. It was his fault for introducing you to Naoya, knowing the kind of person he was, aware of his violent tendencies and twisted beliefs. He’d nearly killed Naoya that night in his fury, and yet, he felt no regret for what he’d done.

Seeing you like that, broken and bruised, Sukuna’s heart felt like it was in pieces. How could anyone hurt you like that? Why would they? His guilt, his confusion—they all merged into something he could hardly understand. And that’s when he thought, Maybe we should start dating. Maybe I can make it up to her somehow.

He didn’t mind putting on an act for you, pretending to be something he wasn’t, if it meant you’d be happy. Hell, he’d even marry you if it brought you some peace. His life would be calmer, more grounded, maybe even bearable. But love? No, he wasn’t sure if it was love—at least not the kind he was used to.

He did care for you, maybe even more than he wanted to admit. But it wasn’t the passionate, fiery love he’d experienced before. It was a tangled mess of guilt, pity, and confusion, something he couldn’t quite name or understand. And yet, here he was, telling himself that this was the right thing to do, that somehow he could make it work.

He didn't love you… or maybe he did. It just wasn’t the love he recognized, and in his mind, that meant it wasn't real love at all. But he was here, and you were here, and maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

The relationship lasted two months. In those two months, Sukuna managed to do the exact thing he had never wanted—to destroy the friendship that had somehow always managed to survive. It happened in the heat of a petty argument, one he had started out of jealousy, and before he knew it, he said the words he had sworn he’d never say.

He could almost hear your heart breaking in the silence that followed.

What he hated most about himself was that you just sat there and took it. He’d said something irreversible, something so damaging that it severed whatever fragile thread had been holding you two together. The cheap, promise ring he’d given you, a half-hearted attempt at making things feel real, suddenly seemed to mean more to you than your entire life did to him. You didn’t scream, you didn’t ask questions, you didn’t even breathe. You just… went quiet.

"I'm sorry, Sukuna. You will never see me again," you said, your voice calm, almost resigned. Those were the last words he heard from you. And true to your promise, he never saw or heard from you again.

So stupid of him, not to take any photos, not to have any memories. Nothing to look back on. Nothing at all. How could someone not even have a single picture of their own girlfriend?

He had nothing.

Until one day, years later, on this show. It was one of those lighthearted segments where they rummaged through celebrities' old phones or cameras, searching for funny or embarrassing moments from their past. It was supposed to be harmless fun—the worst they could find were pictures of his reckless teenage years, a drunken escapade or two.

But as they scrolled through the content, they stumbled upon a photo. His cocky, confident smile faltered instantly.

It was a picture of you and him, taken just when you two were dating. The photo was blurry, almost out of focus, and it looked like it had been taken in the winter. The angle was awkward, low—his little brother must have snapped it. Snowflakes clung to your hair, your cheeks flushed from the cold, and he could see himself standing close beside you, his arm draped around your shoulder. he was looking at you with this lovestruck look and he didn't even notice. The image screamed of nostalgia, of a time when things were simpler, before everything had fallen apart.

He felt his throat tighten, a sharp ache spreading through his chest. He was done with this show, done with the stupid games, done with all of it.

He just stared at the photograph, and it all came rushing back—the memories, the regrets, the questions that had haunted him for years. Why did he let that happen? Why did his feelings always have to be so complicated? He could feel himself unraveling, trying desperately to pull himself together as he fidgeted with the ring on his pinky—the cheap, matching promise ring. He still had it. The once bright color had faded, the metal tarnished and worn, but he had never taken it off.

“Can we skip this, if you don’t mind?” he asked, his voice calm but strained.

The host, sensing the shift in the air, nodded quickly. "Of course," they said, attempting to change the subject, to bring the mood back to something light and fun. But the damage was done. The audience sensed it too—a weight, a heaviness that hadn’t been there before.

After that, the clip went viral, plastered across every media outlet and social media platform. People watched and rewatched how his smile had vanished, how his demeanor had changed so suddenly. It sparked a frenzy of curiosity. Who was she? Who were you?

Rumors began to swirl. Speculation filled the tabloids and gossip columns, the internet buzzing with theories. Was it a lost love? A tragic breakup? Why had a simple photograph caused such a reaction from someone like him, someone known for his confidence and charm?

People began to dig.

They dug for the reason why a man who seemingly had it all felt so hollow. They looked for the woman who had left him feeling empty. They searched for the pieces of a story they didn’t even know was missing, hoping to find something—anything—that would explain why the man who had everything seemed to be missing the one thing he needed most.

The search grew relentless. Every day, new articles emerged, headlines screaming with intrigue: "Who is the Woman Behind Sukuna’s Silence?" and "The Mystery Girl That Broke the Unbreakable Heart."

Fans combed through his old interviews, scrutinizing every word, every expression, every hint of a hidden past. They poured over his social media, dissected every photo, every caption, looking for a clue—a name, a face, something that could connect the dots. The more they searched, the more the mystery deepened.

Some claimed to know you, throwing out names that didn't match. Others insisted you were just a figment of imagination, a constructed narrative to create drama. But those who had seen the clip, who had witnessed that fleeting moment of vulnerability, knew better. There was something real there—something raw and unspoken that lingered in his eyes.

Sukuna watched it all unfold from the sidelines, his irritation growing with every passing day. He’d wanted to move on, to bury the past in the deepest recesses of his mind, but now it was out there, and the world wouldn’t let it go.

His publicist and manager urged him to address it, to release a statement and quell the rumors. But what could he say? That he’d lost someone who meant more to him than he ever realized? That he’d driven you away with his own stubborn pride and fear? That he’d been living in the shadow of that mistake ever since?

And then, one day, there was a breakthrough.

A fan account managed to unearth an old college photo, a group shot with Sukuna laughing at the center, and there you were, standing quietly on the edge. It was grainy and low-quality, but it was enough. The caption beneath read: "Found her?"

Suddenly, everyone wanted to know your name, your story, why you had vanished from his life without a trace. The internet roared to life with theories and searches, names tossed around like confetti, your image dissected and magnified.

But despite the frenzy, there was nothing—no name, no background, no concrete information. Just those two blurry photos, and sad eyes.

True to your word, you had managed to remain a ghost, a presence without substance.

Then, one day, a sudden and stark revelation came to light. Your younger sister, who had been silent all these years, stepped forward with a written statement. The message was simple, direct, and deeply poignant:

“To whom it may concern,

The woman in the photos you have been searching for is my sister,Y/N. She passed away five years ago in a tragic accident—a drunk driver hit her car. Our family has chosen to grieve privately and respectfully, and we ask that you do the same. Please stop trying to find her. She is no longer here, and continuing to search will only add to the pain her loved ones have endured.

Thank you,

Y/S/N”

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no part two. suffer hehe. crying is the new cardio

when the lights dim — oneshot

PREMISE 𓃊 ❝ a love tested by silence and distance, where sunghoon’s presence is all you need to heal, but is it enough to mend what’s broken? ❞

박성훈 x fem reader ꣑୧ angst, unrequited love wc 3.5k

୨୧ when you love someone, you hold on — you fight, you stay, you endure. at least, that’s what you always believed. being with sunghoon felt like second nature, something you never had to question. but somewhere along the way, love turned into something quieter, something heavier. he started slipping through your fingers like sand, and no matter how hard you tried to hold on, he wasn’t reaching back. when does love stop being worth the fight? and more importantly, when is it okay to let go?

the thing about falling in love is that no one ever tells you how much it hurts when it starts slipping away.

you and sunghoon were never the type to have explosive fights. there was no dramatic screaming, no shattered glass, no slammed doors. instead, your love unraveled quietly — like a favorite sweater slowly coming apart at the seams, thread by thread.

you noticed it first in the way he held you. his arms used to be your safest place, warm and steady, but now they felt hesitant, almost reluctant. when you leaned into him, he didn’t lean back as much. when you kissed him, he still kissed you, but the passion felt… different.

less.

at first, you brushed it off. maybe he was stressed. maybe he was just tired. maybe you were overthinking.

but love wasn’t supposed to make you feel like you were begging to be wanted.

the change was gradual, like the slow fade of a once-vivid photograph. he started coming home later, staying out longer, answering texts with half-hearted responses.

“practice ran late”

“got caught up with the guys”

“too tired, maybe tomorrow”

excuses that tasted like lies, even if they weren’t.

you missed him. even when he was right next to you, you missed him.

but no matter how much you ached for him to hold you like he used to, to look at you like you were the best thing in his world, he never did.

one night, you tried. really, really tried.

you made his favorite dinner, set up a movie night, even put on the hoodie he once said you looked cutest in. you wanted to remind him — remind yourself — that you were still here, still fighting.

when he walked in, he barely spared you a glance.

“you’re home late,” you said, forcing your voice to stay light.

“yeah,” he mumbled, toeing off his shoes.

he didn’t ask about the dinner. he didn’t notice the way you had set up the couch just the way he liked it. he didn’t even kiss you hello, like how he used to.

you swallowed the lump in your throat. “i thought we could watch something together.”

sunghoon sighed, rubbing his eyes. “i’m really tired, y/n. can we do this another time?”

another time.

but another time never came.

you stayed for weeks, maybe months, in the limbo of waiting. waiting for him to come back to you, waiting for him to say i love you first, waiting for the ache in your chest to fade.

but one night, as you lay in bed beside him, staring at the ceiling while he faced away from you, it hit you.

you weren’t waiting for him.

you were waiting for the version of him that used to love you properly. the sunghoon who held your hand just because, who sent you texts filled with hearts and dumb jokes, who made you feel like you were the best thing to ever happen to him.

that sunghoon wasn’t coming back.

and loving someone shouldn’t feel like convincing them to love you back.

packing was the hardest part.

not because you had too much to take with you, but because everything in this space had traces of him. the hoodie draped over the chair, the half-used bottle of his cologne on the dresser, the polaroids of the two of you stuck to the mirror.

you stared at them for a long time.

then, carefully, you pulled them down.

“where are you going?” his voice was groggy with sleep, but the moment he saw the bag in your hand, he sat up.

your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “i can’t do this anymore, sunghoon.”

his brows furrowed. “what do you mean?”

you let out a breathy laugh, but there was no humor in it. “you know exactly what i mean.”

he didn’t say anything.

because he did know.

you waited. you waited for him to tell you to stay, to promise he’d fix things, to reach for you the way you had been reaching for him all this time.

but all he did was stare, lips slightly parted, eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

guilt? regret? relief?

whatever it was, it wasn’t love.

you nodded to yourself.

that was your answer.

walking out of that apartment, out of him, was the hardest thing you’d ever done.

but as the cold air kissed your cheeks and the weight of waiting was finally lifted from your shoulders, you realized something.

it hurt like hell. but for the first time in a long time—

you could finally breathe.

k: i hope this doesn’t flop TT

xoeus ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓂃 ‎ ‎ ‎ TheXoeusArchive

FETISH II

Rating: 18+

Synopsis: This is basically a role reversal of my first fic "Fetish".

Warnings: smut!!!, name calling, humiliation 👀, spitting, lovesick!Sunghoon(is that even a warning?),MALE PINING 🗣, switch!sunghoon, switch!reader

Word count: 7.7k

A/n:

A bunch of people asked for a part two to fetish, but it just wasn't working bro. I might go back and rework it mayhaps but I somehow ended up writing like a role reversal of the first fetish where Sunghoon is now desperate and in love with a chick that doesnt even want him frfr idek man.

Sunghoon had taken a liking to pretty things for as long as he could remember. Call him vain, but whether it was jewelry, clothes, and yes, women, he always had to have the best of the best.

He could remember the day she had flitted into his life, achingly sweet, completely untamable and hot as hell. He knew instantly that he had to have her.

The only problem was that she was completely disinterested in him for anything more than the pleasure he could bring her. The harder she fought, the deeper he fell whilst she remained seemingly unbothered by his pursuit of her.

At first he relished the chase. And she enjoyed the attention, letting him sweep her away to extravagant shopping trips and dinners and expensive vacations. Maybe he was just a bit of a glutton, but endlessly chasing after her both turned him on and amused him. And every time he had managed to capture her pretty, curvy figure between his sheets the victory tasted a little bit sweeter.

But eventually, it got too difficult to just look at their situation like a fun game. Eventually, he realized he did the one thing that ruins every friends-with-benefits situationship. He caught feelings. He tried to downplay it like a silly crush, to force himself not to love her. But he often dreamed of seeing her deep, onyx eyes soften as she looked at him with the same tender love as he did her. Of her delicate little hand gleaming with a diamond symbolizing their reciprocated love and commitment to each other. Of her walking towards him, ethereal as always, in a white gown as all of their friends and family watched.

How could he not fantasize about their lives together when they spent every free second that they had with each other? Sunghoon honestly couldn't fathom how his crush could be unreciprocated when they were so close, when they thought like, looked like, and behaved like they were a couple.

His "crush" was in fact infatuation. Obsession. Undeniably, the deepest and purest love he had ever experienced.

As he gazed at his reflection in the mirror across the room, he felt nauseated.

Sunghoon had never considered himself the brightest, but falling head over heels in love with a woman who saw him as nothing more than a friend and a means to get off had to be the dumbest thing he had ever done.

He watched, dejected and defeated as she slid the straps of her lacy bra back over her shoulders. She hummed a little tune to herself as she searched for a missing sock, flung somewhere in his room in the heat of the moment.

"Maybe you can stay....just a little longer?" The pathetic tone in his voice sparked rage within him.

"Stay? What for?" She giggled, fluffing out the coils in her pony puff, still only sporting a single sock.

"Because I don't want you to leave. I enjoy your company. It's not always just about the sex, you know."

"Of course it's just about the sex. That's why this works, Hoonie. And we both know that the second one of us tries to turn it into being anything more, we'll have to end the entire-"

"Why?" She blinked owlishly.

"Why?" Sunghoon was feeling oddly bold tonight.

"Yes. Why?"

"Because I don't want to be in a relationship with you, Hoon." Damn. That hurt. She must have noticed the expression on his face, because she was quick to backpedal.

"No, that's not what I meant. I don't want to be in a relationship at all."

"Are you fucking other men?"

"What? No, of course not. You know I'm not."

"Then what's the difference? You're the only woman in my life, and I'm the only man in your life right now, we're basically already in a relationship. We see each other just about everyday, we text and talk on the phone constantly, we go out, I take you shopping and on vacations, and we've been fucking without a condom for almost a year. We're already together. The only difference will be that I get to call you mine. Might as well just make it official." She stubbornly refused to admit that what he was saying was true.

"Sunghoon-"

"I know you already know how I feel about you." He cut her off, rising from the comfort of his bed to tower over her. Her eyes caressed his naked body, a spark of heated lust filling her gaze.

"Sunghoon, don't."

"Don't what? You already know, baby. It's too fucking late. I'm in love with you." He watched her head shake in frustration.

"I'm in love with you. And I'm sure you've known that for quite some time now. This isn't just a fun little fling anymore. When we're together, we're not just fucking to me. We're making love. Can't you feel the difference? I can. I want to show you off to my friends. As my woman. And meet your family. As your man. Marry you one day. I love you." Her eyes held mild disappointment in them.

"This has been fun, Sunghoon. But I think I should probably go." She decided that the missing sock wasn't that important, shoving her bare foot into her sneaker and finishing dressing in quick haste.

"That's it? You're just gonna leave me now?" He had put his heart out on the line, and things were not looking hopeful.

"I told you, Sunghoon. The second you catch feelings, it's over. I probably let this go on too long, to be honest. I'm sorry. Making you fall in love with me and then leaving you was never my intention."

"Then don't! You can't leave me. It's not fair." Panic was beginning to spread across every nerve in his body as he watched her pull her phone off his charger and chuck it into her purse, taking a final glance around to make sure she wasn't leaving a single thing.

Because now that he'd opened his big fat mouth, she'd probably never be back for it.

"You broke our only rule, Sunghoon."

"I can't not have you in my life."

"I don't think it'd be fair to you to keep this going knowing how you feel about me, and how I feel about relationships. Us just sleeping together is eventually not going to be enough for you." She was slowly approaching the door to his bedroom, looking at him with sympathetic eyes like he was a wounded puppy.

"It could be enough. I think I can.... I could make it be enough." He reached out, wrapping a hand around her wrist to stop her.

"You can make it be enough?"

"Yeah. I can.... I can be ok with just sleeping together. But I can't lose you all together. Please." Begging her to keep fucking him was making him feel so pathetic he wanted to tear his own hair out, but he continued anyway.

"Please. I'm begging you not to leave me." He couldn't read the expression on her face, but he could tell she was contemplating her next move.

"I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already am. You're only going to fall deeper and harder, and it's going to hurt way worse later on if we keep this up, Sunghoon."

"I don't care. I'll take what I can get now, and deal with the repercussions later. Nothing has to change." He was weak, and it was making his skin crawl.

"Things have already changed. I feel so guilty. I really should just go, Sunghoon."

She tried to gently tug her wrist out of his grasp, sighing as he only held on tighter. She looked into his eyes, surprised to find his orbs teary and desperate as he looked down at her.

"Then just give me one more night? To be close to you? Can we... can we make love just one more time?" His lovesick voice cracked when he spoke and it was making her feel a strange sort of emotion that was totally unfamiliar to her.

"This feels like a bad idea." She whispered, resting her forehead against his warm, bare chest. She felt his arms wrap around her form, tugging her close and hugging her like this was the last time he'd ever get to do so.

It might've been.

Her arms wrapped around him in return, fingers stroking up and down his back in a weak attempt to soothe him. She felt an odd lump in her throat at the thought of this being her last time with him. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in a mix of sweat, sex, and something that was purely Sunghoon. She let him hold on for as long as he wanted to, partly because she had come to the realization that she was quite content to be in his arms, and also because she didn't want him to see the way her eyes were staring to water.

"I'll miss you so much." Her brain had not given her mouth permission to say such words, but it was too late to stop them from tumbling past her lips.

"You don't have to miss me. I'll always be here for you. Always. For anything you need. For sex. If you just want to talk. Or if you just miss me. You have my whole heart. And you leaving me is not going to change that." She rested her chin on his chest as she looked up at him. A sad smile crossed his face before he leaned down to press a soft, chaste kiss to her lips.

"Sunghoon." His heart constricted at the quiver in her voice.

"Yes, Pretty?"

"Don't say things like that. You're making it too difficult for me to leave." A single tear cascaded down her chubby cheek, followed by another.

"Then don't. You don't have to. I'd be more than happy to have you stay." He wiped the tears away, kissing the wet trails they left behind.

They stood in silence for a while, just holding each other. Until he felt her place a kiss on his chest, trailing them up his neck, tiptoeing to kiss his lips. He became keenly aware of his naked girth pressing against her stomach as her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers carding through his hair.

"Just one more night, Sunghoon. And tonight..." She trailed off, kissing from his lips to whisper in his ear. "... I'm going to take care of you." He felt a shiver run down his spine.

Her lips trailed from his ear back down his neck, pausing to suck pretty red hickeys into his sensitive spots. He moaned softly at the feeling, internally grateful to have a physical reminder for at least the next few days of their relationship. Her kisses didn't stop there, trailing down his chest, her lips suckling bruises in an oddly specific pattern over his racing heart. As she continued down the length of his body, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, a small gasp escaping him as he caught sight of the pattern she had suckled into his skin. A heart. How fucking cute. He was so busy admiring his heart of hickeys that he barely noticed her sinking to her knees, startling as she placed a kiss onto his tip.

"Sit down on the bed, baby." He was quick to comply, sitting at the edge of his bed and leaning back on his palms as he watched her strip herself naked.

He enjoyed the show, trying to commit every curve, freckle and faint scar on her body to his memory. When she was fully naked she kneeled between his legs, teasingly kissing from his knees to his thighs and up to his groin. As much as he hated being teased, he forced himself not to rush her, knowing this might be the last time he ever got to experience bliss like this with her. She felt herself growing increasingly wet as his soft moans turned to concupiscent whining. His head had fallen back on his shoulders, cheeks flushed in arousal. When he brought his head back up to look down on her, the desperation, the hunger in his gaze moved her to quit teasing him.

She wrapped her warm, soft hand around his length, giving it a gentle squeeze. His puppy eyes were trained on her pretty face as she slowly began to stroke him, twisting her wrist as she got closer to his head.

"Fuck." He swore, pupils dilating in arousal.

She leaned forward and spat a wad of spit onto his length as lube, her pace quickening.

"Oh! ...Shiiit." He moaned, "Feels so fucking good."

"Yeah? You like when I stroke you, baby? You're so fucking hard for me and I've hardly gotten started."

"I fucking love when you stroke me, baby. So fucking good. 'M so fucking hard for you." He gasped.

"Mhmm. I love playing with you when you're sensitive like this, Hoonie." She hummed, giving him yet another love bite on his inner thigh.

"Shit. Keep marking me up, baby. So everyone can see that I'm your's. I love seeing your hickies all over my body." He sighed contently.

She obliged, scattering red and purple bruises across his inner thighs as she continued to stroke his length. She focused all of her attention on his pretty pink head, watching as it twitched and dribbled clear beads of precum all over her hand. He was grunting now as she massaged his head, repeatedly twisting her wrist and feeling him throb against her palm.

"I'm gonna cum...if you keep stroking my tip like that," He moaned.

She smiled an evil smile before reaching her other hand between her legs, gathering her sticky arousal on her fingers before wrapping it around his shaft. She started twisting and stroking in the opposite direction of her other hand, unable to stop herself from rubbing her thighs together to relieve the ache she was beginning to feel.

"Oh, shit! I'm gonna fucking cum."

"Yes, please, baby." Looking into her lust filled eyes as her pace quickened once more made him bust, a shiver wracking his spine as his creamy cum began oozing over her fingers.

His fingers curled into the sheets, gripping handfuls as his abs tightened and convulsed in pleasure. She watched his pretty face contort, pink pout falling open as he let out a hot, drawn out moan. She couldn't tell which sight she enjoyed more, his twitching tip spewing warm, white cum all over her French manicure. Or his face, dazed eyes, scrunched nose, and plush panting lips. She leaned in and kissed those panting lips, smiling as all he could manage was a weak moan in response.

"You look so fucking pretty when you cum. I think I'll make you cum again." She stated quite matter of factly before suckling his still hard tip into her mouth.

His legs began quivering, eyes fluttering shut when she licked a broad stripe starting from the base of his cock all the way up to his tip. She flicked her tongue at his tip, massaging his already sensitive frenulum. She loved seeing him like this, shaky and pathetic from the slightest touch.

"Fuck! W-wait! I'm s-sensit-tive!" He stuttered, his eyes rolling back into his head when she unexpectedly sunk down to the base of his cock.

"W-wait!" She looked up at him, choking on his length before she swallowed so tightly around his cock that the only thing he could do was thrust his hips shakily into her mouth, feeling his seed starting to spurt deep into the back of her throat.

"Ahhhh, fuck!" He cried, on the verge of passing out as the pleasure spread to every cell in his body.

His vision went white, ears ringing as his system overloaded. It felt so fucking good, so intense that it hurt. He wanted it to stop, but he also never wanted it to end. He raised a shaky hand off of his bed to lace through her curls in an attempt to pull her off of his dick, but when she pulled back to suck on his tip he roughly pushed her head back down into his groin, whimpering as he fucked the last few spurts of his seed directly into her stomach. When he weakly plopped back against his bed, she finally released him from her throat.

"Anything," She gasped, licking the remnants of his leak off of his still pulsing head. "I'll give you anything you want, baby. Just tell me what you want."

"I want to fucking eat you," He slurred, still drunk on his orgasm.

"Ok," She crawled beside him on the bed, laying on her side and pressing kisses to his jaw until he had regained enough strength to flip his body over on top of hers, pressing a deep kiss to her lips. She grinned when he pulled back quickly, a deep blush covering his cheeks.

"Why are you blushing, Sunghoon?" She teased.

"Can you taste yourself in my mouth? Don't you taste so fucking good, baby? Nothing makes my pussy wet like tasting you. And feeling you throb inside of my throat. I fucking love making you cum in my mouth." She giggled when she felt his cock twitch against her in response.

"You're so gross," He mumbled, kissing down her neck, "I love it."

She could feel him returning the hickies she had decorated him with, an unwelcome feeling of butterflies setting off inside her stomach as he gave her a matching hickey heart. His big hands cupped her tits, pinching and rolling her nipples between his fingers. She keened as his lips surrounded and suckled a pert nub, nipping and kissing and slurping each bud until she was squirming. She watched through halflidded eyes as he nibbled gently, teeth capturing her nipple in a pleasurable pinch before his kisses continued in their descent. When he got to her smooth mound, he covered it in achingly sweet kisses, spreading her thighs wide and settling comfortably in between. He teased her just as she had teased him, placing kisses at the junction of her thighs, licking her outer folds teasingly. And only when she was squirming restlessly, back arching in desperation, soft little cries and pleas leaving her lips did he give in to her desire. Her eyes were closed, prepared to put up with a lifetime of his teasing when she felt his tongue dip into her sopping, sticky entrance. She held her breath in anticipation, gripping a handful of his thick hair when his pillowy lips puckered against her aching clit.

"Pussy tastes so fucking good," He whined, tonguing the hood of her clit playfully.

"Don't know how I'm supposed to fucking function without it, Dollface." He pouted, his playful licks turning into deep kisses against her clit.

"I need it. I need you. I'm your's. Please, Doll. Don't take my pretty little cunt away from me, I really think I'd die without it." His wet lips wrapped gently around her bud and began to suckle softly. He watched as her eyes grew dim with pleasure, fingers carding through his dark locks and gripping his roots in a fist.

"Sunghoonie," She sighed shakily.

"Mmm?" He hummed in response, the vibration around her clit making her hips buck.

"Don't s-say that!"

"Say what?" He asked innocently, his tongue lapping slowly at her dripping core.

"That y-you're mine." She gasped, feeling the slightest bit lightheaded as his tongue dragged over her clenching asshole.

"It's the truth. Doesn't matter if you like it or not. I'm a slave to this perfect fucking pussy. Whether you want me or not, I'm already your's." He pushed his tongue into her tight ass, the tip of his nose rubbing against her clit.

"No," She moaned, clenching around his writhing tongue before he pulled it out and returned to sloppily slurping at her clit. She couldn't help drawing her knees up so she could force more of his gorgeous face into her snatch.

"Yes," He groaned. "Your's. All your's."

And that was that. Sunghoon was finished talking about it, diverting all of his attention to feeling her cream his tongue. He focused all of his energy into sucking and spitting and licking at her juicy core until her back was arching off of the bed, thighs warming the sides of his face as she prepared to drench his mouth with her arousal. Just as she was about to peak, he pulled away.

"Sunghoon! Don't stop, please, I'm so close!" She begged.

"Yeah?" He menacingly kissed her wet folds. "Tell me who I fucking belong to and I'll make you cream." Her brows pinched together frustratedly.

"Sung-"

"Tell me! Tell me how this pretty pussy owns me. I'd do any-fucking-thing to keep you, baby. For you to keep me. Tell me that I'm your's and I'll pleasure you like no other man on this earth can."

He could clearly see the mental war she was battling, relief coursing through him as she slumped back against his sheets.

"You... you're mine, Sunghoon. All fucking mine."

Her final three words ended with a squeal as he spread her sticky lips apart with his fingers and devoured her, throwing her over the edge into a violent orgasm. Sunghoon's eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the feeling of her cunt locking tight around his tongue, her sweet, warm, milky cum oozing into his mouth and down his throat. He gulped down her orgasm, likening it to an aphrodisiac as he felt his dick dribble and throb with need.

"Fuck me?" He mumbled into her wetness. "Please?"

"Hmmm... That's what you want, baby?" She panted, still shivering with the remnants of her orgasm.

"Yes, please. Need you to fuck me so bad."

"Come here," He crawled up her body, leaving kisses here and there until he was hovering over her. She allowed him to place a few delicate pecks to her lips before she was pushing at his shoulder to signal that she wanted to get on top. He obliged, laying back into his pillows as she straddled his lap. She took hold of his girth, positioning his wide tip at her entrance.

"Ready, baby? I hope you're ready. Because I'm gonna fuck you so good, you'll never forget this night," He tucked his lip between his teeth, nodding in anticipation.

"Please, baby. Hurry, I need you so fucking bad." He gulped as she took hold of his wrists, pinning them above his head. He groaned at the feeling of her grinding against his heavy erection, a dull ache resonating in the pit of his stomach.

"You're pretty when you beg. Have I ever told you that?"

"I feel like that's all I ever do when I'm with you." He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Keep giving me attitude, and I'll really make you grovel." Was she crazy, or did his eyes gain a spark of lust at her threatening to punish him?

"Aren't I desperate enough for you? I never knew you were into humiliating me. Kinky little thing, aren't you?" He sassed. She removed her hands from his wrist, sitting back and resting her weight on his dick. His hips immediately bucked in response, a quiet gasp escaping his throat.

"You want to give me attitude? That's fine, honey. But we play by my rules. If you touch me or move your hands, then I leave. Understand?" Her commanding tone sent a bolt of arousal straight to his dick.

"Yes, ma'am," He responded sarcastically.

But his sarcasm was cut short as she placed her small hands on his chest as leverage and began grinding her wet snatch against his girth. She moaned lewdly everytime the head of his cock dragged against her swollen clit, causing her to drip all over his length. She continued teasing him, trailing a hand up his torse to wrap around his neck and squeeze.

"Fuck, please," He begged, feeling his dick pulsate in tandem with the racing of his heart.

"Please, Doll. Fuck me? I-I'll be good now. I promise." He muttered, body shivering in excitement.

"Look at you. You're pathetic, Sunghoon. You were just so cocky a minute ago. And now you're begging me to fuck you like the dirty slut you are." His dick twitched in warning, her degrading words scratching an unknown itch in Sunghoon's brain.

"Yes," He moaned. "I'm a dirty fucking slut for you. Need you to fuck me right now!"

"Dirty sluts like you don't get to make demands. You're lucky I'm even touching you. And don't you dare think about moving those hands. I know you want to. I know you want to reach out and touch me..." He whimpered as she leaned in close, her full breasts calling for him to grab a handful.

"I bet you want to reach out... maybe grab my hips and force my tight little cunt down onto your aching dick. Huh?" She teased, lifting her hips just enough to take the tip of his cock into her pussy.

"Oh f-fuck!" As quick as she had put his tip in she was pulling back off of it, and gently grinding against his length once again. His fists clenched into tight balls, wanting to be obedient but also wanting to flip her over and drill into her fat little cunt until his leak was so deep inside of her it'd fill her womb.

"You said you'd take care of me tonight, Doll."

"Mhmm?"

"So stop fucking teasing me." She only giggled in response.

"I told you, baby. We play by my rules." She lifted up her hips and slowly sank onto his length wiggling comfortably before settling down.

"You know, this is actually quite comfortable. I think I'll stay just like this." Sunghoon groaned, his dick feeling like it was going to explode from all of her teasing. He had just resolved within himself to put up with her teasing for the rest of the night when he felt her clench around him tightly, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips.

"As much as I love messing with you," She whimpered as she slowly began to rock her hips against his. "I can't have this big dick inside me and not ride it." With that said she began to slowly pick up her pace, tits bouncing enticingly as she rode him.

"Shit," He groaned. "I l-love..." He bit his lip, trying his best to not ruin the moment for her.

"I know you do." She gasped. How could she not know when he was constantly staring at her with hearts in his starry eyes? With her petite hand still around his neck, restricting his airflow and her walls milking his length, Sunghoon was dangerously close to an embarrassingly premature orgasm.

"It's okay, baby. You can say it."

"Fuck. I love you," He moaned, thighs tensing with the need to thrust up into her.

"Touch?" He whined, feeling like he'd simply pass away if she didn't let him.

"Go ahead, Hoon. Touch me." As soon as the words were out of her mouth he had one arm wrapped around her waist pulling her close, the other hand slipping between her thighs to massage her bud.

"I love you," He whispered against her plump lips. His head fell back onto his shoulders, a moan escaping him as she increased her pace. He picked his head up, nuzzling into the crook of her neck, embarrassed at how responsive his body was to her every touch. He was content to keep moaning and whining quietly into her neck, but she seemed to have other plans, tugging his head back by his hair so she could look into his eyes.

"Don't hide from me, baby. I wanna see those pretty fucked out eyes. Hear those cute little moans and watch you struggle to not cum too fast. It's hard, isn't it?" He could only manage a quick nod in response.

"Wanna get on top?"

"Please." He kept a firm grip around her waist and rolled over, immediately pulling her legs up and over his shoulders.

And this position felt so different for the both of them, so much deeper and more intense.

He was pummeling her soaked gash, unable to stop himself from whining into her ear because he'd already came twice and his dick was so, so swollen and so fucking sensitive but he was so fucked out that all he could think about was how good her pussy was stretching around his length.

"Good," He grunted, feeling her clench tightly in response. "So. Fucking. Good."

It seemed as though Sunghoon had fucked the bravado right out of her, leaving her a whining, writhing mess beneath him. His ego expanded at the feeling of her thighs beginning to quiver over his shoulders. He upped the ante, using his long slender fingers to stroke her swollen clit in little circles. He could feel her walls starting to quiver and gush around his length, alerting him to her approaching orgasm.

"Who else could fuck you like I do? Who, baby? Who could fuck you and love you as good as me, huh? No one."

"No!" She moaned, her own hands reaching up to tug at her curly locks.

"Admit it, Dollface. There isn't another man... fuck- on this planet that could both treat you like the slut you are and make you feel like the most important thing in his life. There's only me."

"S-Sunghoon." She stuttered.

"You might leave me tonight, baby. But you'll be back. And I'll be waiting for you with open arms and a hard dick," He grinned, feeling her body go tense as she surrendered to orgasm.

"F-fuuuuuck!" She whimpered out a broken moan, tremors wracking her small frame as she soaked his length in her juices feeling like her orgasm was reaching every single cell in her body and fuck, maybe she did love him just a little bit.

He cast his gaze between her thighs, lost in the pretty pearlescent cream coating his dick knowing that he'd do anything to keep making it happen. He shifted his thrusts a bit, preening internally when he seemed to nail her g-spot head on.

"You look so fucking pretty cumming for me, baby."

With one hand he massaged a still quivering thigh, a grunt escaping him at the feeling of her cunt locking tight around his dick. His other hand continued to rub tight circles into her clit, stretching her orgasm out until she was on the cusp of another, attempting to wiggle away desperately as he pounded into her engorged g-spot.

"Where do you think you're going, doll?" He teased menacingly, taking in the way her walls were once again beginning to collapse around his dick.

She said nothing, a weak cry getting caught in her throat as her back arched deeply beneath him. He saw shiny tears bubbling up in her drunken eyes before they rolled back into her head. Sunghoon lived for moments like this. Watching her entire body tense beneath him before surrendering completely to his every touch, too blissed out to do anything other than take the pleasure he gave her. He wished he could stay in this moment forever, but he wasn't at all immune to the effects of her orgasms. Her pulsing wet heat sucking and swallowing his aching dick was pushing him to his own orgasm.

"Gonna fucking cum." He groaned. "Gonna cum inside and f-fill you up so good."

"And you're gonna keep every s-single... fuck ...every single drop inside of your pretty little cunt. Or I'm gonna fucking beat your insides weak until it all stays fucking put. Do you understand me?"

She whimpered out a quiet 'yes', pussy still quivering around him. He dropped his line of sight once more, eyes darting between her eyes and cunt as his breathing deepened. He wasn't ready to cum, wasn't ready to think about this ending. But he had fought his orgasm for as long as he could, and he knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer at all. Especially with how pretty the sight before him was. Her tight little snatch coating his dick in her orgasm, a creamy white ring encircling and dripping from the fat base of his cock. Her tiny hands running through his hair and cradling his face affectionately. Her pretty brown eyes were staring at him just the way he fantasized, dazed and in awe of him, just enthralled enough for Sunghoon to trick himself into thinking she was in love. The thought of her loving him back shot a tingle of lightning down his spine and straight to his dick.

"Cumming!" He whined.

His brain shut off momentarily, his body running on pure instinct as he sloppily rutted into her twice more before sinking deep and blowing his load. And maybe it was the possibility of never experiencing this again, or maybe it was just because he was in love, but Sunghoon swore he had never cum as hard and as long as he was cumming in the moment. His fingers dug into her skin creating little crecent moon indentations as he trembled, breathless, helpless and in complete ecstasy. She could feel him throb and twitch with every spurt of cum shooting out of his swollen head, a warm feeling enveloping her as he pumped her full. He came loads and he made absolutely certain that every single drop was buried deep inside of her.

Sunghoon pulled out begrudgingly, already stubbornly thinking to himself that there was no way he could survive without this, without her. He sat back on his haunches, panting, watching to see if any dripped out, ready to fuck her into oblivion again until she could keep his load inside of her.

He was mildly disappointed to see that she kept it all in.

He felt a sense of panic overwhelm him again as she started to sit up. He quickly pushed her to lie flat on her back once more.

"Just let me eat you one more time, baby." He mumbled, already pushing her legs open and planting kisses on her sopping mound.

"Sunghooooon," She whined. "Haven't you had enough?"

"No. Never." He rested her legs comfortably over his shoulders, hands snaking up to grip around her waist.

"I'll never be satisfied until I know you're mine," He dragged his tongue achingly slow across her clit.

"So you think you can just k-keep me in your bed until I agree to date you?" She giggled airly, getting a good grip on the roots of his hair as her hips rolled into his mouth.

"Mhmmm," He moaned around her clit, causing her hips to stutter into his face.

She looked down at him, falling deep into his puppy eyes and watching him gently grind his dick into the mattress as he slowly ate her.

"I can taste myself in your pussy. That's the way it should always be." He felt her walls flutter around his tongue in response.

"Eww." She teased.

"We both know you love it when I'm nasty."

"I do."

"And I love you, pretty. I really do." He reiterated.

"I know you do."

"Just give me a chance? And we can be nasty together forever," He grinned cheekily. She was having a difficult time remembering why she was so against being in a relationship with him.

Before she could reply, he was sinking two fingers into her core, curving them up to massage her abused gspot. Her thighs closed around his hand, overstimulated yet pleading for his touch.

"Sunghoon. I-I can't. It's too much." She stuttered. The look in his eyes told her he wasn't feeling very sympathetic for her weakened state.

"I want to ruin you. I don't care if it makes me the bad guy, but I wanna ruin you. So that all you think of is me. So that all you want is me. So that you know in the very core of your being that no other man can love you and touch you and fuck you the way I can." Even as his words caused the sticky juices to flow between her thighs, she silently wished he'd stop forcing her brain to consider the possibility of being with him.

"I want you to feel what I feel when I look at you. I want you to ache and crave for me like I do for you. And not just for my dick. For my affection and attention. I want you obsessed with me. Possessive of me. In love with me. What's so wrong with that?"

He didn't bother waiting for her response, diverting his attention to placing delicate, yet firm kisses on her clit.

"I love you. Even if you don't love me back, I still love you. So fucking much." He murmured, looking into her eyes as he continued kissing on her clit.

"You talk too much," She moaned, wiggling as her lust for him outgrew the satisfaction that his fingers could give her.

"Can't help it. I'm in love. And I'm gonna keep saying it, whether you want to hear it or not." He stopped his kisses in favor of swirling his tongue around her bud.

"Dick." She demanded.

"Dick, what? How do good girls ask?" She could hear the smug expression on his face.

"Dick, please?"

"Good girl." He put on a show of slowly pulling his fingers out of her to suck on them.

"We taste so good together." A laugh erupted out of him at the sight of her embarrassed face.

"You're mentally unwell. You need professional help."

"The only thing I need... is you." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at him, both amused and annoyed by his persistence.

"How have I never noticed how stubborn you are?" She asked, wrapping her arms around his neck as he positioned himself between her legs once again.

"Only when it comes to things I really, really want." He broke eye contact only to watch his cock slowly grind against her, coating himself in her essence.

"And you really, really want me?" She asked despite knowing the answer.

"More than I want air to breathe." His answer made her stomach drop and her heart race in a pleasant way that she had never felt.

"I am pretty great," She tried to lighten the mood.

"I think so too. I love you."

"Everytime you say that it makes my stomach feel all weird and fluttery."

"Aww. I'm giving you butterflies? That's so fucking cute."

"I don't like it. Make it stop." His smiling face disappeared into the crook of her neck, placing gentle kisses into her skin.

"You do know that you have the option to just enjoy this, right? There's no rules saying you can't change your mind about being in a relationship with me." She fell silent for long enough that it made him lean back so that he could see her face.

"You ok?" She nodded wordlessly but he could see her eyes starting to water.

"Baby? What's wrong?"

"I just...I'm so confused. I don't want to be in a relationship. But I do want you." Sunghoon felt like for the first time tonight, he could finally breathe properly.

"What so bad about being in a relationship?"

"I don't like feeling confined. I don't like feeling like I have an obligation to be with someone. I like having my freedom."

"Do I make you feel confined or restricted? Have you ever thought about the fact that we never actually agreed to sleep exclusively with each other, but neither of us have been with anyone else since we met? Or the fact that you spend a lot of your free time with me, not because you have to but because we like being around each other. And before today, I've never once told you that I wanted you all to myself. You've technically been single this entire time. And you still subconsciously chose me over your freedom."

"You're right." Her small admission was enough to make Sunghoon's heart do backflips in his chest.

"You're over thinking this entire thing, pretty girl. It's just a different label on the same relationship that we already have."

"Right. It's just a different label."

"Exactly....So is this you agreeing to give us a shot?" He awaited her response with baited breath.

"...Yes." Sunghoon figured it'd probably ruin the mood if he jumped up and clicked his heels together in glee, so he settled for claiming his victory with a sweet kiss.

"And now I get to fuck my girl." He whispered against her lips, more than pleased with what he had accomplished.

"Yes, please." She squealed as he roughly flipped her over onto her hands and knees, shivering at the feeling of him lining his tip up with her entrance and pushing in to the hilt.

"Mmm." He moaned. "Pussy feels so fucking good. And it's all mine now."

He stayed there for a minute, allowing himself to readjust to her tightness. She quickly became impatient, purposefully clenching around him.

"Fuck! Behave, Dollface, or this'll be over before either of us are ready for it to end."

"I'm sorry, Hoonie. But you feel so good inside of me." He pulled her up so that her back rested against his chest before he gently caressed her cheek, pushing his thumb into her mouth and letting her suck on it.

"Open." She opened her mouth, gaze locked on his as he spit in her mouth before gruffly ordering her to swallow.

He wrapped a hand around her slender throat, squeezing lightly as he began pounding away. Her eyes immediately got that foggy look in them as he fucked her, glazing over as she slipped into a pleasure induced state.

"Always look so fucking pretty stuffed full of my dick, doll. Do you know that? You have no fucking idea how gorgeous you are." He cooed. She could only mewl back in response, his blissed out pillow princess.

"My pretty baby. I'm so lucky to finally have you all for myself."

Her nails absent-mindedly dug into his strong, muscled thighs trying desperately to ground herself as he bucked into her. He gathered her wrists in one of his hands behind her back and pushed her upper body back into the mattress, panting as it somehow allowed him to drive even deeper into her pussy.

"What a good fucking girl I have. Letting me fuck your pretty little pussy open again. Does it feel good, princess?"

"Yes! Feels s'fucking good. Gonna cum." She keened rolling her hips back into his pelvis.

"Slow down, lovebug. I'm not ready for you to cum just yet." He chuckled haughtily, only to be completely ignored.

"Fuck, yesssss!" She moaned, contracting wildly around his length as she ground back onto him.

"Oh?" He smirked as she trembled and twitched in his hold. "What happened to my good girl?"

"I'm s-sorry, I needed it!"

"It's fine, darling. But since you needed it so badly that you ignored me, I'll just keep making you cum. Let's see how many times I can get you to make a mess of yourself."

Three intense orgasms later she was cursing herself for not listening to him. Sunghoon was certainly a man of his word, turning her into a drooling, cum-drunk, groveling mess. Tears streamed down her face, her fucked out gaze unfocused.

"Look at how wet and desperate and needy you are for me, babylove. You can't even handle a few orgasms without getting dick drunk. You're a fucking dream come true."

"Please, Sunghoon. I'll behave. I promise." Her voice was gravely from crying out for him.

"Yeah? You promise? Then I expect good behavior from you, babydoll."

"I'll be good, I'll be so good!" She squeaked, feeling the telltale signs of another orgasm approaching.

Thankfully, Sunghoon seemed to be approaching his high as well and would hopefully pity her sore, worn out body. He finally released her wrists, pulling her back up to rest against his chest. Her head lulled lazily against his shoulder as she craned her neck to hold eye contact with him.

"I-I'm... Sunghoon! Sung...I'm.."

"I know, baby, I know. You wanna cum for me one more time, hmm? Together?"

"Uh-huh!" He watched her eyes start to roll as her body began quivering in anticipation. He grasped her jaw in his big hand, forcing her to look at him.

"Ok, pretty. Almost there. Look at me. Let me see those pretty eyes so I can cum too." She forced her eyes to lock onto his, and when she saw the warmth and adoration and affection in his brown boba eyes, she finally understood the odd feeling he had been making her feel all night long.

"Sunghoonie?" She hummed.

"Yes, baby?" He replied.

"I love you."

"Fuck!" He wailed in rapture, feeling the first spurts of his orgasm shoot out completely involuntarily in response to her declaration of love.

He tensed, toes curling, convulsing in a pleasure that was just as much emotional as it was physical. Those three little words played over and over in his otherwise empty head, as he filled her tiny womb with his seed, his girthy member jerking with each pulsing wave. She must have really liked the feeling of his warmth filling her up, because she followed right behind him, clamping down around his clumsily thrusting member and raining her wetness all over his sheets.

"Fuck, baby!" He whined. "Love you s'fucking much- mmm!" He pressed his lips to hers in a deep kiss, his hips finally coming to a rest.

"Fuck." She groaned, falling forward onto his mattress and giggling to herself.

"That felt so good, Hoonie. Thank you, baby." She shuddered at the feeling of him pulling out of her, before he laid down with her resting on his chest.

"No," He huffed. "Thank you, pretty girl. For giving us a chance. For being such a good girl for me. And for telling me you love me. Come here." He placed a chaste kiss to her lips and squeezed her in a tight hug.

"It's the truth. I do love you." She mumbled against his lips.

"I love you too, babydoll."

That was the last thing either of them said before they were drifting off to sleep, content, satiated, and in love.

A/n: We're not going to talk about it. Ok. We just aren't. I hate this entire thing. 😒

---

NIKI??

WHAT’S UP ?

📄 ◜ ────𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝘀 𝗮 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝘂𝗴; 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝘀 𝗮 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲...

ʬʬʬ. 2024 pairing. nishimura riki x femoc!member req. nk getting jealous of ml with other 05-liners cw. jealousy, kabedon, teasing ( LIBRARY )

RIKI NEVER THOUGHT HE WOULD SEE THE DAY WHERE he would be third-wheeling on his own date, but that was before he and Mila bumped into Harua and Taki while they were out and about on what was supposed to be a romantic outing with just the two of them.

Make no mistake, Riki was good friends with the two of them and had nothing against them personally. He was even glad to see them, happy to be reunited with his fellow 05’-liners. But somehow, it seemed they were a lot happier to see Mila than they were to see him — and that Mila was unusually happy to see them, too.

Since when were they close? Riki thought with a pout as he watched Mila reach up to ruffle Harua’s hair.

“How have you been?” Mila asked in a sweet tone, mirroring how one would speak to a baby or a cute puppy they come across on the road. It was one that was usually reserved for her boyfriends — the younger ones, especially — and so Riki was astounded to hear her use it on the Japanese male. Even more so when she cooed as Harua nodded happily. “Ah, what even? Why are you so cute?”

Cute? Cute? Riki clenched his jaw the slightest bit as he watched Mila smile at him with those eyes of hers, laughing at something he had said. Riki continued to stare at her, as if it would magically make her look his way. But the woman was none the wiser.

Now, Riki was not the possessive type, nor was he the type to be jealous of his girlfriend having male friends. But he couldn’t deny the twist in his gut as Mila continued to pay attention to the other two males while he stood right there, waiting for her to tell him that she was ready to resume their date.

Riki licked the insides of his cheek. He crossed his arms and looked down at the floor, nodding along to whatever the three were talking about so as not to seem rude. But his foot was tapping subconsciously, his eyes flickering to the time displayed on the face of his watch.

“By the way, were you two heading somewhere?” Taki asked, looking between the couple. “We’ll leave you to it, if that’s the case.”

“Huh? That’s okay! We don’t mind, right Ni-ki?” Mila blinked up at Riki, reminding the tall male of how small she looked in comparison to him. But while he would usually smirk at their height difference, he found himself noticing something else.

Ni-ki? Ever since they started dating, Mila never called him by anything other than his first name and a choice collection of pet names. He looked at Taki and he realised why. But still… It wasn’t like they would be confused— Taki would already know by default who Mila was talking about. She was only one of very few people who ever called him by his birth name these days, it felt too distancing for her to refer to him by his stage name— that was what everyone else called him, after all.

“Still,” Taki said, cutting through Riki’s thoughts like a blade, “we shouldn’t hold you back for too long— we have somewhere to be as well, so we’ll let you go now.”

Mila hummed. She nodded understandingly thought it was obvious she wasn’t too eager to let the duo go, given how she patted Harua’s arm, giving it a gentle squeeze as he bowed and departed. She sighed, waving at the duo as they walked away. “He’s just so cute…”

“I know,” Riki deadpanned, the smile he offered Taki and Harua as they left skipping form his face. “You only mentioned it like three times already.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, before turning on his heels. “Come on.”

Mila blinked before trialing after the young man like a puppy nipping at his heels, her wide eyes looking up at him in question. “Hey,” she called softly, her hand tugging on the sleeve of her jacket. “Are you okay?”

Riki scoffed under his breath. Who would be okay after they had to watch their girlfriend fawn over another man, even going as far as to call him ‘cute’? And when they were supposed to be going out as a couple, at that. He clocked his tongue as he pettily ignored her calls, instead speeding up his steps.

“Oh… Wait a minute, are you jealous?” When Riki didn’t respond, Mila giggled. “Really? I didn’t think you’d be that jealous, considering you hate being called cute… But you know, the way you’re acting right now is really cute too.” Mila smiled as she skipped alongside his long strides. He still refused to look at her, causing her to become even more endeared by his behaviour. “Hey, Ni-ki—!”

Riki clicked his tongue. In one smooth movement, he seized Mila’s wrist, pulling her into the emergency staircase that they happened to pass as they walked towards the exit of the Hybe building. Mila gasped at the sudden movement. She momentarily lost her balance, flailing forward at the sudden force. But before she could fall over, Riki trapped her between his body and the firm wall against her back — one hand on the wall above her and the other on her waist.

Mila froze, eyes wide as she stared up at him, breath caught in her throat at the sudden proximity. She swallowed thickly. “W-what are you doing…?”

It was meant to come to stern, scolding even. Yet under the heat of his gaze and his towering figure, the words came out breathless — just like what she felt in that moment. “It’s Riki.”

Mila gasped like a fish. “What?”

Riki smirked slightly at her flustered expression, taking on the redness of her cheeks and her avoidant gaze. But he schooled his expression before she could notice his amusement. “Call my name,” he said lowly, his deep voice causing Mila to melt on the spot. “You keep calling me ‘Ni-ki,’ earlier. But that’s not what you usually call me.”

Mila licked her lips, feeling that they had gotten dry. Riki subconsciously followed the action with his eyes, watching the way her pink lips parted to enunciate the syllables of his name. “Riki—”

His name barely left her lips before Riki’s were pressed against hers. The hand on her waist flitted to her jaw, tilting it upwards to allow him more access, his plump lips covering his in a kiss that could only be described as a stamp of longing— too firm to be tender, but too soft to be passionate. Just his mouth on hers filling her tummy with butterflies and making her knees buckle.

By the time Riki separated from her, she was reduced to a blushing mess under his smug smile. “That’s better,” he said. He raised a hand to stroke to stroke top of her head. “Noona’s a good girl.”

“What?” Mila stammered. He never called her Noona, but when he did, it was always intentional. Mila pushed his chest, but Riki noticed she didn’t use any force, instead resting her hands there helplessly — as if he had kissed all the strength out of her. “You spend too much time with Jake,” Mila muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Jake was right when he said that Riki seemed to only learn strange things from his hyungs — flirting, included. The man winked, a charming smile crossing his face, ironically proving Mila’s point. She sighed resting her head against her chest, her heart racing wildly against her own.

Riki was no bad boy, but with the way things were going, he definitely could turn out to be… Bad for Mila’s heart, that is.

TAGLIST @em1ejiee @menichoi @dracoslovergirl @rosas-in-the-garden @blossominghunnie @lovelypham @cornenhapovs

it's as the prophecy foretold... two trucks, having sex

what if everyone voted for logan for driver of the day on sunday because bro is spending 4th of july in england

defiance | king!sukuna x servant!reader

master list

chapter three: the king of curses

summary: a psychic shares her vision with the king, saying that his soulmate would replace all 5 of his concubines one day. he had her banned from the premises for that absurd prediction. it wasn't until months later when he started believing the old bitch, after one cute yet disobedient servant started working at the shrine. TL;DR: sukuna's a sorcerer in this one, still ooc but not too much. mc pretty much ran away from home for being a hoe, and went to work at sukuna's shrine lol.

genre: female reader, heian era au but incredibly historically inaccurate, 18+, grumpy x sunshine, fluff, smut, so much crack, angst, mutual pining, might be seen as dubcon but she wants him lol, no he wont have two sets of arms, and no he wont have two dicks, srry srry srry

fic warnings: profanity, explicit smut, ooc, mentions of grooming, more will be added

word count: 3.6k

playlist

You were woken up by the sounds of rumbling, low buzzing, and Sukuna’s faint snoring. At first you thought all three were coming from him, but the more you came to, you realized the first two sounds were from across the room. 

Specifically from the very dark corner of his already dark room. 

You slowly lifted yourself up, rubbing your eyes and trying to focus in that direction. Two orbs— bright glowing green orbs— seemingly directed at you, shifting and occasional blinking. 

You looked back at Sukuna, who was sleeping way too peacefully for someone who had a literal intruder in their chambers. When you looked back up to the corner, the thing had moved a couple feet closer in your direction. 

“Kuna..” You wearily tried to shake the king awake, constantly looking back at the apparition that was shaped like a giant bee corpse from hell. 

It had legs, it wasn’t using them. In fact, it morphed towards you instead of walking– or running. But that didn’t matter, it would’ve been equally terrifying either way.

The rumbling noise it made was now turning into muffled shrieks as warped closer and closer and closer to you the more you acknowledged it. 

“..Kuna!” You yelped as it morphed to his side of the bed, now glaring and smiling at you.

Sukuna shot up the moment you fully hid under the covers, completely bemused by what you could possibly be whining about before dawn even broke.

At first he’s pissed, being ripped away from his sleep and all. Of course this had to happen the one fucking time he allowed a concubine to sleep with him.

His annoyance quickly fades away the moment he felt the familiar feeling of all the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. It was pretty obvious to him what it was that woke you up and scared you half to death. 

He turned his head to see the grade 1 curse was able to weasel itself into his territory. 

Weak, but gross nonetheless. He stuck out his pointer finger and gently flicked his wrist, slicing the things head off and splattering its purple blood all over the walls and floors.

He made a mental note to have Uraume clean it up later, since they were the only ones who could see them in the shrine. 

Well— aside from you, apparently. 

But he was way too tired to get into that, and made another mental note to ask you about it in the morning once the sun was actually up.

For now, he was going back to bed. He was tired from the festival, all the people that have tried to talk to him during the festival, and from his night with you— but that’s more of a fact than a complaint.

He looked back to find you still under the covers. He slightly pulled them back to find you face down on to the pillows, covering your ears— which also made him realize you probably also heard the grueling noise of it getting beheaded.

“It’s gone now,” his voice was low and raspy, clearly still half asleep. “Go back to bed,” he ordered, before he threw his arm and leg over you. 

—

“So you can see them?” He asked after he gave you a moment to wake up. 

Sukuna had woken up as interested as ever in you and stayed in bed until you finally opened your eyes. 

Uraume had already come by and cleaned the walls and floor, along with taking the corpse and tossing it to wherever they tossed them to.

“Yeah, usually they’re easy to ignore.” You admit. “But once it noticed that I could see it, I felt like it started to taunt me in a way. It wouldn’t stop getting closer and it even smiled at me.”   

“Yeah, the stronger they are the more they tend to do stuff like that.” He explained. 

He knew he shouldn’t stay in bed too long with you in the morning, but allowed himself to laze around a little longer. He could tell you were enjoying it too from the way you were caressing and tracing his chest and arms. 

A little too much actually, as you traced lower. And lower. And lower. 

“NO! That fucking tickles.” He snapped after you impulsively poked his side, making him hunch over to protect himself from you.

How you had the energy to try to fuck with him was an absolute mystery. It was way too early in the morning to laugh, yet there you were giggling away at his suffering.

“Sorry for waking you up.” You finally said after getting a hold of yourself. 

“It’s fine.” He yawned. “And you’ve always been able to see them?” The questions continued.

It piqued his curiosity, making him wonder if you came from a line of sorcerer’s or were unknowingly one yourself. He went with the former for now, most sorcerers realize they had abilities around 4-6 years old. It was least likely the latter since you were way past that age. 

“Yeah. I don’t see them often though. It’s actually my first time seeing one since coming to work here.” 

“That’s because Uraume usually takes care of them— here drink this.” Sukuna was quick to hand you the elixir that his assistant dropped off this morning. 

An elixir you were more than happy to take. Having children was normal at your age, but it was something you’d rather not do and you were glad he wasn’t pushing you to give him an heir. At least not right away.

You were still visibly disturbed as you recalled the early morning's events. He watched the wheels start to turn in your head as you tried to wrap your brain around what he could’ve possibly meant by that and what exactly he and Uraume were. 

“So are you two.. curses as well?” You tried to tie the loose ends of his slight vagueness.

“Sorcerer’s.” He corrected you. “Top of the food chain, sweetheart.” You could tell he was proud of that. 

Curse users if you wanted to get technical about it, since they used their abilities on more than just curses. But he wasn’t going to explain the whole thing to you. At least not right now, you two still had to get ready for the second day of the festival.

He briefly gave you a rundown on what a sorcerer was, and how they were able to kill curses— trying to get as much out before the servants and your ladies in waiting came to get you both ready for the day. You were still left with so many questions but ultimately decided it was enough for now and let it go. 

—

You quickly forgot about the curse as the second day of the festival went on.. along with the constant questioning from most of the concubines. Borderline annoying ones at this point since it’s clear they were trying to scope you out, but harmless nonetheless. 

“Did King Sukuna really allow you to sleep in his chambers last night?” 

How did they even know that?

“What position does he take you in?” 

Every single one.

“Which dish did you like most today?” 

You don’t care about what my favorite dish is.

“Did you know the king's favorite color is red?”

Did you know there’s seaweed stuck in your teeth?

Each question strayed further away from getting to know you and slowly moved to what Sukuna does with you and how close you were with him. 

Which was not close at all— given last night was the first time you actually spent time with him. And that was being generous with your verbiage. 

He fucked your brains out and had you sleep in bed with him. Oh, and he killed a giant bug-like apparition that was trying to kill you. 

But that was more so for him and the sleep he clearly wanted to get back to— reminding yourself that if anyone or thing were to kill you, it’d be Sukuna him-fucking-self.

But Saiga and Yumi were clearly threatened by your place there, so you did the honors of making your answers more palatable for them in order to validate their places in the king's life. 

“Yes, but it was late.”

“From the back of course!” 

“I think I enjoyed the pickled daikon and zaru soba the most.”

“No I didn’t, I don’t think the king would tell me that much about himself… haha..”

Sukuna watched as you downplayed your new role— somewhat proud (of you), somewhat frustrated (at them). He knew them well enough to know they’d harass you if you tried to act like you knew him more than they did. 

Which he was glad you didnt try to do. Yumi tried that at first in order to fit in and it failed miserably. The twins fucked with her for months and Yuna even joined along because: 

She’s kind of psychotic, like her shogun father who enjoys committing war crimes. 

She’s a child.

Were there consequences? No. It was quite entertaining for the king to watch them fight for his conditional love.

Would he still find it entertaining if they all the sudden ganged up on you? Who knows. And he doubts he’d ever find out since you played your cards right and didn’t fall for the trap. 

By the end of day two, they came to the conclusion that you were nothing more than a little toy to that man. 

A replaceable toy.

And that you may take all his nights for the rest of the week— the rest of the month even— but you’d always be the 3rd to last in place, Mariko and Yuna falling right behind you for obvious reasons. No threats here!

In fact, you did such a good job that the king decided to be extra nice to you that night— making you cum on his fingers, then his tongue, and then his fingers again with the help of his second tongue. 

Was it because deep down he wanted to prove them wrong? That you weren’t a replaceable fuck toy? He honestly didn’t even know at that point. Your moans were like music to his ears and he’d gladly listen to you all night long.

A king should never have to explain himself anyway.

It was so fucking much and you didn’t know what to do with yourself while he overstimulated and consoled you. Reminding you that your only job was to keep being a good girl and to keep cumming for him.

And you did. So much so that you were nearly delirious towards the end— breath shaking, legs shaking, tears, so many tears. 

You didn’t think you’d be so addicted to how he made you feel so soon, and he’d never think he’d become that addicted to making someone feel this way at all. 

Or maybe that was just the lust talking, he tried to justify as you fell asleep in his arms for the second night in a row.

Yeah. Maybe that was it. 

Maybe extra excitement was all that he needed these past couple of months. It’s not like he’s been getting much of that nowadays. He’s already killed off who he’s needed to kill off.. for now. 

Now everything’s calm— boring. Something that’s never settled with his soul. Never has, probably never will. 

Maybe he should take your ladies in waiting once the festival is over, release them into the forest, and hunt them down one by one. That would sure help keep him at bay.

What if he were to completely abandon that thought all together and just kick start another war instead? Nothing was more exhilarating than war.

Or should he just wait it out? 

The regions and districts were always fighting anyway. They’ll find another reason eventually. 

A reason he’ll never care about. He was never one to dabble into politics. Just tell him where to go and he’ll demolish both sides at the flick of a wrist, casualties were inevitable anyways. 

And what were they going to do about it? Punish him? Hah. 

By all means, come at him. 

Maybe it wasn’t that bad if one girl replaced these violent urges. Excitement was excitement. You were technically saving lives without even being aware of it, good girl. 

Yet the more he thought about it, the more he itched for it. He didn’t even know where the need came from. Just one day at 5 years old, he had the sudden idea to dismantle someone’s brain without even knowing what dismantle was. His innocent self did exactly just that. 

And he liked it. At 5 years old he was fortunate enough to stumble upon his true purpose in this life. 

Bringing people to their knees as he reigned absolute hell on earth.

—

The third day was the day things finally got interesting for the young king. You got ready in his chambers, as you did the day before. You asked him a couple more questions about himself, which he gladly answered.

You two didn’t talk more about what sorcery or curses were in front of the servants. He doesn’t like them knowing anything about it. It doesn’t stem from him trying to protect their feelings or anything, he just doesn’t think they should be allowed to listen in on those types of conversations or have access to that information.

The conversation never ran short though while they got you two ready side by side. But you did notice he was more stern with them being around. It was one of the many ways he kept the discipline and order around the estate. 

The last thing he needed was someone getting too comfortable and stepping out of line. It was something you needed to remind yourself too, and to not let the way he treats you behind closed doors get to your head.

He was a powerful figure in general, and didn’t mind using it to get what he wanted. To find out that he had literal powers was daunting, he was truly a monster and seemed proud of it. 

— 

Today you got a break from Yumi and the twins. You didn’t have any issues with them, even after yesterday's interrogation. You understood where they were coming from and couldn’t be too mad. But fuck— they were draining. 

You instead sat next to Mariko, who was extremely intimidating. The oldest out of all of the concubines, the wisest and most refined. She was the type of woman who could look into your eyes in the most sincere manner, and you’d still stutter. Elegant and despite the king not having sexual relations with her anymore, it made sense that he’s kept her around.

She wasn’t quick to introduce herself, but it felt genuine when she did. It’s as if she waited for you to get acclimated to the environment before going in and asking how you’ve been liking being a concubine so far. 

“It’s only been about a week since being moved to my new chambers, but it’s been nice so far.” You politely said.

“I’m glad to hear that. That’s where the king's mother used to live.” She admitted. 

“Is that so?” She smiled and nodded at your surprise. 

“She was also a very kind woman, which surprised a lot of us given who she gave birth to.” She chuckled. 

You cleared your throat in order to try to hold in a laugh. Who knew the most intimidating concubine had a sense of humor. It made you wonder what kind of conversations she had with Sukuna.

Sukuna watched as the two of you slowly got comfortable with each other, something he knew would happen since Mariko was the most mature out of all of them. He wanted your last day being forced to be with the other concubines to be somewhat peaceful. Hence why he had you sat at the edge with only Mariko sitting next to you.

He actually enjoyed the last day, up until he didn’t.

From the corner of one of his eyes he saw General Toji Zenin— who was in fact staring at you despite being accompanied by not one, but two of his wives. 

Greedy bastard. 

He was used to other men ogling at his concubines and usually took it as a compliment. 

But this was you, which made it a completely different situation in his mind. You had a whole backstory he didn’t know much about aside from the fact that you ran away to the shrine in order to seek asylum. 

Toji’s eyes weren’t filled with lust, desire, or attraction. He looked like he saw a ghost and was currently as white one. He looked like he had questions that would probably never be answered.

Scratch that— he’d never get answers if he did have questions, because he won’t ever get the chance to talk to you. 

Sukuna could promise that.

He knew of Toji very well actually, and at one point had more respect for him than most people despite never formally meeting him. At least before. 

His strength alone was comparable to an entire unit, maybe even surpassing that when you took his battle strategies into account. The man was the closest a normal human could ever get to being a monster. He was strong.

And what made this sight even more endearing was the fact that you were avoiding the generals gaze— he could fucking tell. 

Eyes shifting, playing with the hem of your clothing, obviously distracted while Mariko tells you all about her clan.

Now, Sukuna may not know much about you. But, what he does know is that you’re a fucking wildcard. Errant. Disorderly. Mischievous. 

And god help you— god help the entire fucking shrine— if you try to flirt your way out of this one.

The whole time, Toji is having a whole internal collapse after realizing that you were indeed who he thought you were. He spent months admiring you— he could point you out in a crowd full of people anytime, anywhere. 

Not only that, he was ready to marry you in a heartbeat. It would’ve saved your life of course, but he genuinely wanted you as a wife. Even if you asked him now, he would’ve much rather taken you to today's festival instead of his two wives that were accompanying him.

At first he was relieved to see that you were alive. This whole time he’d been secretly mourning over the possibility that you may have been dead— whether it was one of your brothers catching up to you or getting stranded, then starving to death in the woods. 

But that relief was quickly washed over with an overwhelming worry and fear over your life, after realizing you were now property of the morally depraved Ryomen Sukuna. 

Not only has he heard stories of him, but he’s seen the man in action years ago. A 17 year old Sukuna, way too eager to run into a battlefield– slicing, laughing, fucking levitating. Rumors about the death of his son were in the air, yet you’d never know with the smile plastered on his face while he effortlessly slaughtered thousands. 

He’d only heard tales of sorcerers at the time, and the teenager transcended whatever idea Toji had of them. An urban legend turned rational fear. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend the level of power and depravity that he held.

Not before and definitely not now.

Sukuna continued to watch the tension that unfolded between you two as unfamiliar feelings arose in his chest— homicidal ones. 

Feelings that could only be soothed by the brilliance that was his meticulously refined domain, malevolent shrine.

All while an annoying merchant, that was the physical embodiment of an overly ripe plum, tried to strike a conversation with him over possibly backing his green tea business. 

Sukuna despises green tea.

And the unnatural pitch in the merchant's voice was the final straw— striking the fire that slowly formed in his chest, setting it ablaze throughout his entire being. 

Not only was Toji looking at you, but now so was the king. 

And unlike Toji who was looking at you like a wounded puppy, Sukuna was looking at you like he wanted to skin you alive.

And not only did you notice it, but so did Mariko and Uraume. They knew all too well what that look meant. 

It struck fear in the first concubine's heart because she actually grew to like you in the hour she’s gotten to speak with you. It struck dread in Uraume’s, knowing they’d most likely have to clean up what the man would eventually start. 

This was the first time you’ve ever truly felt seen by him and it wasn’t in a sweet, romantic way at all. It lacked love, it lacked empathy, it lacked anything that had to do with goodness. 

It was fucking sinister and made you want to crawl out of your own skin.

You no longer thought he was possessed by a demon, you concluded that Sukuna would simply never allow that. 

You tried to relax your breathing, you slowly stopped fiddling with your clothes, you tried to fix your demeanor and sit it up as straight as you could—

Your pathetic little attempts to get it together and act normal have all but failed. Fear had officially struck deep into your bones the longer he stared at you.

Your eyes begged for his mercy and his told you to shut the fuck up. 

And in that moment, you realized the curse that appeared in his chambers could’ve multiplied by the thousands, and they still would have never compared to Sukuna’s overwhelming intensity.

Making you truly understand his earned title, The King of Curses.

next chapter

notes: even the king himself gets jealous, jumps to conclusions, and threatens to lay out his domain <3

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