💭

20 yrs old

[xuditmrq]

Nsfw! Jake audio

Jake can't help himself while you're jerking him off.

oommg this really sounds like him.

[lazybish-vd]

OH.MY.GODDSS. he's so loud, and whiny, and I love it.

[mssishipi]

ONE OF THE GIRLS — ksn

Kim Sunoo has always been one of the girls: soft-spoken, pretty, utterly devoted to the allure of men, men and more men. Women were never his thing, not really—especially not you. You, with your cigarette-drenched, red fucking lips, that wicked mouth always spitting nonsense. He loathed your strut, your cruel tongue, those perfect, infuriating tits that made his cock twitch no matter how hard he tried to look away. And he hated the thought that maybe — he’s starting to think that he swings both ways after all.

content tags/warnings: queer!sunoo x queer! reader, slowburn, one sided enemies to fubu to lovers, misandry comments, gentle angst, reader is a heavy smoker and have a lots of piercings and tattoos. jealousy, mentions of cheating (past rs). light emotional manipulation, toxic behaviors, second chances, queer coded relationship dynamics. sunoo is a nursing student and reader is a fashion design major. two years age gap, reader is shorter than sunoo. explicit content (smut): plot with porn. four different smut scenes. blowjob, some content might be dubious, pussy eating, fingering, protected and unprotected sex: public sex, rainbow (period) sex, multiple sex positions and places lmao, sunoo have a big dick, also dom! sn <3 WC: 45.4K (long ass ride)

note! this is a work of fiction and is not intended to offend anyone in the lgbt community or to fetishize any identities. the themes and characters are purely imaginative and should not be taken as a reflection of real people or experiences. and if you don't like it? don't read it. :)

KIM SUNOO has never truly identified as a man, not in the way society tries to define it.

He was born with what people like to label as "male," but the label never felt like it belonged to him. He's always been one of the girls. Not because he was trying to be anything other than himself, but because that's where he belonged, where he felt seen, understood, and safe. There's no pride in masculinity for him, no comfort in aligning with a category that has done nothing but let him down. Whatever was hanging between his legs didn't mean he owed anything to the idea of manhood, and he sure as hell wasn't going to start pretending it did.

And yet, for all his clarity, all his softness, all his truth—Sunoo, no matter how sharp his wit or clever his comebacks, keeps getting cheated on. It used to be just the straight boys he rolled his eyes at, but the betrayal has evolved. Gays aren't safe anymore either. There's no longer a clean line between "they'd never" and "they did." Gay, straight, bi, whatever — the problem is not orientation, it's the universal mediocrity of modern manhood. There's a plague of emotional negligence infecting them all. He trusted boys who called him beautiful, who knew how to flirt over text, who said "I'm not like the others" — and then turned out to be exactly like the others, but with worse excuses!

And still, the question haunts him: Why? Why does it keep happening? Why do they always cheat? What is it about commitment that scares them so much? He's been good. He's been better than good! He listens, he nurtures, he gives. He doesn't ask for much. Is that really too much? Because it feels like no matter how much effort he puts in, no matter how present he is, no matter how he softens himself to make space for someone else, it never ends with someone choosing him back. The worst part is how often he wonders if it's his fault—if maybe he's just not enough. Not hot enough, not loud enough, not strong enough, not whatever version of "desirable" men have invented that week. It eats at him.

"Good thing you broke up with him. He's not better for you, anyways." Sunoo rolled his eyes, brushing his hair back as he stared blankly at the colorful crochet pieces arranged neatly in front of him. They were at the National Art Celebration, wandering through the Art Museum's marketplace.

He didn't respond to his friend's comment. What was there to say?

His fingers hovered over a small adorable crochet strawberry keychain, the kind of thing he'd usually buy without hesitation but he didn't pick it up, because his mood didn't match the softness in front of him. It hadn't even been a full week since everything crashed. His ex had been sleeping with more than just one person behind his back. Sunoo had confronted him head-on, shaking with anger, and left. The next day, he was at a clinic, filling out forms with numb fingers, waiting for results that thankfully came back clean. Still, the damage wasn't something that a negative result could fix.

"I hope he chokes on his small dick and dies," Sunoo muttered under his breath, not even trying to sound playful about it. He turned from the crochet booth and walked a few steps over to the next one, where rows of stickers were arranged neatly across a dark velvet cloth.

His lips twitched slightly as he noticed a sticker of a cat holding a cigarette in its mouth. The drawing was a little messy nothing like the soft pastel style he usually liked. The rest of the stickers shared the same energy—guitars, ghost-like figures, strange shapes in heavy red and black tones. The entire table had a darker, rougher feel to it, but instead of pushing him away, it pulled him in. Something about the way the lines were drawn, the way the art didn't try to be friendly, and it felt honest, that honesty intrigued him. He picked up the cat sticker, turning it slightly under the light. "This is so cute. Are you the artist?" he asked, glancing up at the boy behind the table.

The boy shook his head with a small grin. "Thank you, but no. I'm just her cousin. She went to grab some food. I'm babysitting her table for now."

Sunoo nodded, eyes still scanning the stickers laid out in front of him. He wasn't even sure where he'd put them if he bought any—his laptop was already full, his tumbler too—but something about them felt worth having. Maybe he just wanted to support someone who clearly put effort into making something different. Without thinking too much, he picked out five more, dropped a bill in the little payment box, and gave a quick thank you before stepping back into the flow of the crowd.

"I'm gonna get the car. Just wait here. The parking lot's, like, so far and it's insanely hot," his friend said, already fanning her face with a brochure as she walked away. Sunoo just gave her a lazy nod and stayed in the shade, sipping his strawberry soda and lightly tapping the tip of his shows against the concrete to keep himself distracted.

It was Saturday, supposed to be relaxing day, but Sunoo's mind didn't know how to slow down. The breakup still clung to him, but even beyond that, the stress of his return demo for nursing school kept replaying in his head. It was getting close, and he still didn't feel ready. His eyebags were starting to sink into his face again, darkening with every late night he spent crying or spiraling in bed, wondering how things managed to fall apart this fast. He'd thought about going out again, just to dance, to pretend, to flirt with someone but he already knew it wouldn't help.

Just as he was about to take another sip from his drink, he froze. His nose twitched — Was that... cigarette smoke? Sunoo immediately grimaced, pressing his fingers over his nose and mouth. What the hell? Who the fuck smokes around here? The whole place was filled with kids and art booths, and there was a giant NO SMOKING sign that was printed in bold red letters, stuck on a wall not even ten steps away. His eyes scanned the shaded rest area until they landed on the source.

There you were—sitting alone on the bench with one leg drawn up, smoke curling lazily from your lips, completely unbothered.

"The fuck?" he muttered, eyes narrowing as another wave of smoke drifted toward him, already starting to irritate his throat. He wasn't trying to start anything, but the longer he stood there, the more it felt like the smoke was reaching out, wrapping around his skin, sneaking into his lungs, clinging to his clothes. He was already dealing with a bad day, and now this?!

You exhaled again, your gaze flicked toward him, catching the look he gave you but you didn't react. If anything, you just blinked, relaxed, fingers still holding the cigarette loosely between them.

Sunoo stood there, clearly expecting you to look guilty or maybe at least pretend to care, but when you didn't, he clicked his tongue in frustration and glanced at the sign again, like pointing it out. "Do you not see the sign?" he said, irritation in every word. "This is a public area, kids are here, and secondhand smoke—do you even know it's worse than smoking yourself? God, the sign is literally right there. It's huge."

You looked at him again, blinking like you didn't quite catch what he was saying. Your hand, holding the cigarette near your mouth, paused midair. Then, slowly, you turned your head to glance over your shoulder, as if making sure he was actually talking to you and not someone else behind the bench.

When your eyes met his again, they stayed on him a second longer. He stood there with a roughness that didn't match the soft features on his face. You let your gaze move over him without shame, noting the little details—the way his hair was clipped back by a cute pink clip, the pale tone of his skin that looked untouched by the sun, smooth, almost too perfect. His lips had a natural flush, a little swollen like he'd been biting them out of stress, and even with that annoyed look carved into his face, there was nothing harsh about him.

What a beautiful man, you thought, not even trying to hide it. You let the moment hang for a bit longer, then flicked the ash off the end of your cigarette with a small movement. Your voice was unbothered when you finally spoke. "You always pick fights with strangers, or am I just lucky today?"

He blinked, caught off guard by how casually you responded. "Start fights?" he repeated, eyes narrowing further. "You're the one breaking the rules. 'No smoking' doesn't mean smoke quietly. It means don't fucking smoke."

You took another drag without rush, then exhaled away from his direction, watching him. "Right. And you yelling about it in public—real mature. Definitely better than me just sitting here minding my own business."

Sunoo stepped forward slightly, jaw tightening. "You're not minding your business. That's the problem."

You shrugged, leaning back just a little on the bench, clearly not moved. "Then move somewhere else. No one's forcing you to breathe next to me. I don't fucking care."

You saw the way the color started creeping into the tips of his ears, how his hands curled into tight fists at his sides like he was holding himself back from saying something worse. He was clearly seething, barely keeping it together. You smiled to yourself then turned your head away to take another drag from your cigarette, the smoke curling softly from your lips.

"Bitch," you heard him muttered under his breath.

You turned your head back toward him, one brow lifting as you exhaled the smoke without rushing. "Excuse me?"

You started to shift, one foot planting on the ground like you were about to stand, but before anything else could happen, a small car pulled up right in front of you. Sunoo didn't waste a second. He walked straight toward it, yanked the passenger door open, and slipped inside as if the vehicle were his escape hatch. He slammed the door, and through the window, you could see the tension still sitting in his shoulders. But what caught your attention was how he didn't look away. Even as the engine came to life, even as the car rolled slowly forward, Sunoo kept his eyes locked on you. His glare was sharp and it's lingering.

You pressed your tongue into your cheek as you took another slow hit from the cigarette, still watching. When the car passed, you caught his reflection in the side mirror, and there he was—still glaring.

You flicked the smoke away from your face, the faintest smirk on your lips as the car disappeared down the road. Hah. He's such a pretty guy. You liked him already.

"Who's that guy?"

Sunoo didn't even try to hide his curiosity as he pointed across the room, eyes fixed on the one person who'd completely pulled his attention. The music was loud, bass thumping through the floor, and bodies moved around the house party in various stages of drunken celebration. It was supposed to be a simple gathering, just something to celebrate surviving midterms and their return demonstrations. He wasn't expecting anything wild tonight. Honestly, he'd shown up mostly out of pressure and to avoid looking like a killjoy. As someone in healthcare, he was all too aware of the risks, especially when it came to hookups. The rise of HIV cases was something that always lingered in the back of his mind, and the weight of what his ex put him through was still fresh. He wasn't exactly in the mood to relive that. But even so... looking didn't hurt, right?

"That's Park Sunghoon," someone answered beside him, casually sipping from their red cup. "Physical Therapy."

Sunoo's eyes narrowed slightly, studying the guy. He was leaning against the wall, laughing, drink in hand, head tilted just enough to show off a clean jawline and that effortless hair. "Does he have a girlfriend?" Sunoo asked, still watching.         His friend shrugged. "I don't know? Maybe? You interested? Go talk to him!"

Sunoo rolled his eyes and sipped from his drink. "I don't even know if he's into men." His friend leaned in, grinning. "Ngeh, I don't know either, but he looks like he's giving off some BL energy. Just try!"

Sunoo didn't respond right away, but his gaze drifted back to Sunghoon, eyes half-lidded from the buzz. There was something about him, the kind of guy who knew he looked good but didn't make a show of it. And okay, maybe there was something about the way he stood that didn't exactly scream masculine authority. There was a softness to it, or maybe just an openness that made Sunoo curious.

He tapped his fingers against his cup, considering. He wasn't looking for anything serious but after everything he'd been through, a little fun wouldn't hurt. And if Park Sunghoon happened to be fun and hot? Well... why the hell not?

With one final sip, Sunoo set his cup down and gave his friend a sly look. "Fine. I'll try."

He took a breath, adjusted his shirt, and began walking through the crowd, weaving past groups of loud classmates and half-finished games of beer pong until he finally reached the corner where Park Sunghoon stood. The table beside them was lined with vodka, soda, and mixers. Sunoo casually took his place beside him, pretending to look through the drink options while stealing a glance at the boy he'd just been staring at across the room.

Sunghoon turned his head slightly, noticed him, and smiled. He raised his cup. "Cheers?" he offered.

Sunoo smiled back, trying not to let it show how fast his heart had just jumped. He reached for a drink off the table, tapping his cup gently against Sunghoon's. "Physical Therapy?" Sunoo asked, trying to keep his tone light, confident and a little sweet.

"Yeah. Nursing?" Sunghoon replied smoothly, and when Sunoo nodded, something about the way Sunghoon smiled deepened, more focused now. That voice—fuck. Sunoo could already feel the heat crawling up his neck. His body wasn't even trying to be subtle about how attracted he was. And God, those hands—Sunghoon reached for the bottle of rum to refill his cup, and Sunoo caught a flash of the veins along his forearm, the easy flex of his wrist, the way his fingers moved with control. For a second, Sunoo lost the ability to form a proper thought. Break my bones. Please. I beg.

They were already halfway through the conversation, and Sunoo could feel himself falling a little too deep for comfort. Sunghoon wasn't just attractive—he was engaging in a way that didn't feel forced. He spoke with confidence in his voice, and Sunoo found himself drawn in with every word. It surprised him how someone could make something as dry as tendons sound this interesting, especially when he usually avoided any talk of lectures once he stepped out of school. But with Sunghoon, it felt different. His voice was soothing, and the way he explained things had a rhythm that made Sunoo want to listen, even if he already knew the topic.

"And you know the tendons that connect from the—" Sunghoon started, his fingers gesturing as he spoke.

Sunoo nodded along, genuinely interested, eyes fixed on him, but then, right in the middle of the sentence, Sunghoon stopped. His posture shifted, back straightening, and his eyes flicked past Sunoo's shoulder like something—or someone—had just pulled his attention. Sunoo frowned, eyebrows drawing together, expecting him to finish the sentence, but instead, he watched as Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, his expression softening in recognition, lips curving upward.

Sunoo glanced behind him, confusion setting in. Then Sunghoon cleared his throat, gave him a polite smile, and said, "Uhh, sorry. If you'll excuse me. Nice meeting you, Sunoo," before lightly tapping his shoulder and walking off.

Sunoo's mouth fell open, completely caught off guard. He barely had time to react before his eyes followed Sunghoon's retreating figure—and then he saw exactly where he was heading. Fuck?!

You were leaning casually against the wall near the hallway entrance, drink in hand, watching the whole interaction. You didn't look surprised to see Sunghoon making his way over. In fact, you barely blinked. The moment he reached you, your body turned just slightly to make space for him. Sunghoon leaned in, said something only you could hear, and your quiet laugh in response said everything else Sunoo didn't want to believe.

Sunoo blinked, chest tight. He could almost feel something short-circuiting inside his brain, like a wire snapping clean. His thoughts were a blur, but one thing was clear—you. His pulse quickened as his body processed the shift, his amygdala practically lighting up with one conclusion: you are a threat.

A threat to his night, his mood, his already bruised ego. God, how was it even possible for someone he'd only met twice to piss him off this much? The universe really had the audacity to let you show up again, and not just exist, but actively ruin his chances at getting laid. Because let's be real—he wasn't looking for love, just something to distract him, and now even that had been snatched by the same cigarette-smoking bitch who couldn't be bothered to respect a no-smoking sign?!

His friend appeared beside him, holding a fresh cup and scanning the room. "Hey, where'd Sunghoon go? You two looked like you were hitting it off."

Sunoo didn't turn to look at her. He just brought the rim of his cup to his lips, finished what was left in a single gulp, and slammed it back on the table. "He went to hell," he muttered. "With someone who clearly lives there." His friend blinked, confused. "Wait—what?"

Sunoo turned to her, face tight with a forced smile. "Don't worry about it. Just remind me next time I say I'm open to meeting new people—slap me."

He exhaled sharply as his eyes drifted back to where the two of you had returned from the hallway. And when he really looked—when he took in your outfit, the way you were dressed like you didn't give a single shit what anyone thought—he almost laughed out loud.

A strawberry shirt? Jorts? Those shoes? That's what Sunghoon left him for? Sunoo scoffed under his breath, shaking his head slowly, barely believing it. He looked down at himself—his carefully styled hair, his clean lines, and then back at you. "Seriously," he muttered, eyes still locked on you. "That's the one?"

He couldn't decide if he was more offended for himself or embarrassed for Sunghoon. Whether you were just a friend, a fling, or something in between, one thing was clear to him now: Park Sunghoon had no taste. And if he did, it was broken.

Anyway, there were plenty of fish in the sea. Sunoo wasn't going to waste his energy sulking over one guy, especially not if you were somehow involved. If Sunghoon had any sort of connection to you then Sunoo would rather tap out early and save himself the trouble. He had enough baggage without adding someone who came with your name attached.

At least, that's what he told himself.

But then again, Sunoo had also said there were so many fish in the sea—yet somehow, it felt like every damn fish was just swimming in circles around you. It was getting ridiculous. He wasn't being dramatic, either. There was always something—some random detail, some little coincidence, and suddenly, boom. You. Right there again.

Date number one: a gym instructor. Hot, yes, a little edgy, had that calm, slow-talking voice Sunoo secretly liked. Things were going okay, until the guy pulled out his phone to show pictures of his niece's birthday party and proudly pointed to a group photo. Sunoo was nodding politely, until his eyes caught on one specific person in the background, holding the cake and grinning. He blinked. Zoomed in. Yup. You. Holding a cake with your horrible strawberry tank top. Niece, cousin, whatever—you were related. Add to that the guy reeked of cigarettes the whole time, and Sunoo was done before dessert.

Date number two: a Med Tech student. Good on paper, clean cut, same healthcare background, probably understood his schedule and stress levels. Sunoo was really trying with this one. But on their second date, as they were walking to a café near the guy's family's shop, Sunoo noticed someone standing out front during a break—leaning against the wall, cigarette between your lips, looking bored out of your mind. You. Again. You even smirk at him! Sunoo didn't even finish the coffee. He went home and ghosted the guy the next morning.

Okay, maybe he was being petty. Maybe, in a community as tight as theirs, having overlap wasn't that deep. But could anyone really blame him? Sunoo could admit it—he was petty, fine. He could own that. His feelings were valid. He was the one showing up, putting in effort, trying to start something new while somehow tripping over you every single time.

And if anyone dared to question why he was so quick to shut people down the moment your name and face got involved, well—he'd like to point them toward basic psychology. According to research, the brain forms first impressions within seconds. These impressions are shaped by appearance, voice, body language, even scent—and they trigger implicit biases, unconscious reactions that color how we feel about someone before they even say a word. And what had his brain learned to associate with you? Cigarettes, interruptions, stolen men, smug grins, and the color strawberry.

So, yes. Sunoo was triggered. And he was allowed to be.

"Damn, my neck is killing me from all these hospital duties. I'm seriously craving mint ice cream right now," Sunoo groaned, letting himself collapse face-first into the couch at Jungwon's dorm. He had no energy left and zero motivation to head back to his own apartment. Everything hurt—his back, his neck, even his brain.

"I'm begging for a break," Jungwon said from his desk, not looking up from his laptop. "God, give me a date."

Sunoo's voice came out muffled, his face still buried in the cushion. "I'm fine with God not giving me a date as long as I get a decent eight hours of sleep."

"What happened with all those dates you went on?" Jungwon finally asked, turning slightly in his chair. "None of them worked out?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Sunoo muttered, one hand waving in the air like he could physically dismiss the topic. He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Forget it. I'm going to grab ice cream before I start crying about my life again. Want anything?"

Jungwon leaned back and grinned. "Can you buy me some lube?"

Sunoo rolled his eyes so hard. "Get your own, freak."

He stood up, grabbing his wallet off the coffee table and brushing off invisible lint from his pants. He didn't even know if he actually wanted ice cream anymore or if he just needed an excuse to be alone for a bit. Either way, he needed air. And distance. And ideally, a world where you didn't exist in every corner of his social life.

But of course, fate had other plans—because who else would be behind the counter of the convenience store at 10:42 PM but you, punching in his order with that same lazy grin plastered on your face as your eyes dropped directly to the bottle of lube and box of condoms on the counter.

Seriously. How many fucking jobs did you have? Sunoo stared at you, disbelief turning to horror, then to full-blown irritation. "Can you not grin like that?" he snapped, arms crossed. "What happened to discrete and nonjudgmental service? I need to speak to your manager."

You tilted your head slightly and blinked at him with exaggerated innocence, hand pausing over the touchscreen like you were truly offended. The expression only made his eye twitch harder. "That's discrimination," he added, glaring. "I should be allowed to buy whatever I want without being mentally harassed by your face."

Your lips twitched. You tried to play it cool, but the smirk slipped out before you could stop it. There it was again—that look of yours, amused and smug. So ugly!

Honestly, you hadn't expected to see him again so soon. It was the third time now, and at this point, his dramatic reactions were starting to feel like a reward. The moment he walked through the door and made eye contact with you, something in you shifted—your lips curled up instinctively, and the weight of the day suddenly didn't feel so heavy.      "Huh?" you said innocently, your voice small as you tilted your head slightly, letting your bottom lip pout just enough to be annoying.

Sunoo looked like he was one breath away from combusting, especially when his eyes flicked to your mouth and you knew he caught the glint of the piercing on your lower lip, because his gaze lingered just a second too long before his face twisted in irritation.

"Huh?" he mocked, eyebrows raised and lips pushed out as he mimicked your expression, only to immediately roll his eyes so hard. Without another word, he reached across the counter and snatched the bag from your hands, the plastic crinkling loudly in the quiet. He slapped a $50 bill on the counter, pointedly avoiding your eyes.

"Keep the change and never show your face again," he snapped, already turning on his heel. "God, bye," he added with a dramatic flick of his head, tossing his hair back.

You barely held in the laugh bubbling up your throat. Cute! you thought, bracing your hands on the counter as your smile widened. "Enjoy your night, sir!" you called after him, loud and obnoxiously cheerful.

You caught the twitch of his shoulders as he froze for half a second at the door. Then, without turning fully around, he glanced at you over his shoulder, hand lifting to flash you a very clear middle finger before pushing the door open and disappearing.

You leaned back, shaking your head with a quiet chuckle. Yup. Definitely your favorite regular now.

With Sunoo buried in nonstop clinical duties, he was starting to believe that God had decided to personally test his patience. Every day was a cycle of waking up too early, surviving rounds with barely any caffeine, and crashing into bed with a brain too tired to think but still too anxious to sleep. If this was divine character development, he wanted a refund. But fine, he'd give credit where it was due. At least he wasn't in a relationship. He couldn't imagine juggling a partner on top of exams, hospital reports, and constant reminders of his nonexistent social life. That would've been a mental breakdown waiting to happen.

Sunoo still hated men or so he said. But hatred, as he often reminded himself bitterly, was a slippery slope. The more you hated, the more they crawled under your skin. And men, those confusing, beautiful disasters, were impossible to avoid. The way they smiled, the stupid flex of their arms when they weren't even trying, those veiny hands that somehow haunted his imagination late at night—ugh. It was criminal, really. He wasn't desperate, but he wasn't made of stone either. If he said he didn't miss at least a little action, he'd be lying.

So when Jake asked him to tag along to the university gym because he was meeting a friend there for a commission, Sunoo agreed—reluctantly at first. But the moment they stepped into the gym and his eyes landed on the group of basketball players practicing on the court, all thoughts of regret evaporated.

"I was waiting for my friend. Sorry to drag you into it. I have a commission with her, she told me to meet her here. Is that okay?" Jake asked, casually.

Sunoo could barely hear him over the internal scream in his head. Of course it's okay. It's so okay he might cry. His gaze was locked on one specific figure—Lee Heeseung, the captain of the university's basketball team, currently making shots. Sunoo's mouth may not have been literally on the floor, but it was dangerously close. His eyes followed every movement of how Heeseung's shirt clung to his back, how his arms flexed with every jump, how sweat dripped down his neck—

Jake nudged him. "You good?"

"Peachy," Sunoo replied, voice an octave too high as he cleared his throat. "Just... appreciating," his eyes scanned the gym, trailing slowly over the players until, inevitably, they landed on the captain, Lee Heeseung. Sunoo raised his hands vaguely, motioning toward the court as if trying to justify the way he was staring. "...physical education."

But of course, like in some movies he never signed up for, the metaphorical glass shattered the moment you appeared. Just walked right into his field of vision. The air shifted, his stomach dropped, and his brows furrowed. His expression twisted into something between disgust and disbelief as his arms dropped in surrender. What the hell were you doing here?! Oh God?! You and him are in the same university?!

And then, just as Sunoo thought the scene couldn't get worse, Jake stood up, grinning wide. "There you are!" he said before pulling you into a hug and pressing a kiss on your cheek.

Sunoo's entire soul left his body. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Jake was gay—openly and proudly gay—and Sunoo, as judgmental as he sometimes got, couldn't help but squint suspiciously. Are you seriously friends with his friends? Because if anyone was giving homophobic vibes, it was definitely you. Sunoo blinked hard. The math wasn't mathing. Did Jake not feel the same tension he did? Oh no. Jake needed help. Jake needed saving. God, someone had to sit him down and explain a few things before it was too late.

"Oh! Meet Sunoo! He's my best friend from nursing."

And there it was—the inevitable moment where Sunoo had no choice but to lock eyes with you. The second your gaze met his, you smiled so sweetly it made his entire body crawl. You even added a little wave, like this was the friendliest encounter on earth, and not the fourth time you'd popped up in his life. Sunoo felt the twitch in his eye before he could stop it, jaw clenching as he forced the most plastic smile onto his face. The corners of his eyes crinkled with pure performance. He stood up, cheeks already aching from pretending, leaned in for a polite cheek-to-cheek like he wasn't imagining pulling your hair back in pure rage, and was immediately hit with a mix of cigarette smoke and YSL Libre perfume. Ugh.

Jake, completely oblivious to the silent war unfolding, beamed as he gestured between the two of you. "She's a fashion design major! Does commissions too—drawings, paintings, cakes, you name it."

Sunoo nodded stiffly, barely reacting. Inside, he was sighing so loud he could practically hear himself. As Jake went on, clearly proud to know someone like you, Sunoo watched you nod and smile with just the right amount of humility, your tone gentle, polite, soft—like butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. This is fake. You're fake. This whole performance is fake. God, Jake deserves better friends. He forced another smile, barely hanging onto his sanity. Because the way you were looking at him right now and you knew he was crumbling inside was enough to make his blood boil.

And worst of all, you looked delighted about it. Bitch. You're a bitch. Sunoo didn't even try to be polite about it in his head anymore. He had fully accepted the fact that you existed in his life for the sole purpose of testing his patience.

But of course, it didn't stop there. Since Jake thought you and Sunoo were getting along just fine, he began inviting you everywhere. Lunch, coffee breaks, study sessions—any time he had a free hour, he'd text both of you like this was some little trio. Fuck him!

And every time you showed up, Sunoo could feel that familiar twitch start behind his eye, the one that pulsed when he was one annoyance away from losing it. Your voice would float into the conversation like you had no idea you were driving him slowly insane.

But the worst part? The absolutely most humiliating part? He was starting to notice things. Little details that stuck with him even though he never asked for them. You smoked Marlboro Reds, but you always kept a strawberry-flavored vape in your bag. You wore outfits like you just rolled out of a punk indie concert, all black with layered chains and boots that could kill a man, but he'd bet money your favorite color was red—based on the red phone case, the red liner under your eyes, the strawberry pins you sometimes wore on your bag. You had a piercing on your tongue—he found that out when you bit into a donut one afternoon and casually stuck your tongue out in surprise because of the powdered sugar.

He didn't mean to remember all of this. He didn't even talk to you. Not directly, at least. Every time Jake tried to bridge conversation between you two, it felt like some weird form of punishment. Sunoo would answer, you'd smile knowingly, and Jake would keep chatting like this three-way exchange wasn't slowly draining Sunoo's soul.

"Jake has a fear of needles, so maybe stop trying to convince him to get a piercing or a tattoo," Sunoo said, not even glancing up from his drink.

He hadn't meant to speak, but with Jake in the restroom and the silence between you two stretching, the words slipped out. His tone was calm but the way his fingers tightened slightly around his cup betrayed the irritation simmering under his skin.

You turned your head, raising a brow slowly as if deciding whether to entertain this or not. "Hmm? I didn't know we were handing out unsolicited advice now," you said, tilting your glass to make the ice clink. "Is that your subtle way of joining the conversation, Ddeuno?"

His jaw flexed the moment the nickname left your lips. He finally looked at you, eyes sharp. "It's not joining if I'm already in it. Jake was talking to both of us. And it's Sunoo. Not that hard."

You smiled, amused by the twitch in his expression. "Sure, Sunoo. But don't you think Jake's capable of making his own choices?"

"He is," he said, voice a touch tighter as he leaned forward and crossed one leg over the other. "Which is exactly why I know he wouldn't have asked if you didn't plant the idea in his head."

You rested your elbow on the table and glanced at him with casual ease. "I didn't plant anything. He saw my piercing and asked. Maybe you're just not used to people being curious about something you can't control."

He scoffed, shaking his head as he stirred his drink, the metal spoon tapping against ceramic. "Right, because nothing screams freedom of choice like peer pressure with a side of aesthetic superiority."

"I never pressured him," you said, eyes locked on his. "But if he wanted to try something new, I wouldn't stop him. You, on the other hand, sound like you'd tackle him to the ground before he could book an appointment."

Okay, fuck this. Sunoo's patience was thinning by the second, and he could feel the irritation rising and rising and rising! He hadn't come here to argue, but the way you kept smiling, like you knew how to push every single one of his buttons, made it impossible to let it slide.

He wasn't trying to control Jake. He was just looking out for him because someone had to. Sunoo had this belief, stubborn as it was, that people who covered themselves in piercings and tattoos didn't exactly value their skin the way they should. It wasn't about being judgmental, it was about keeping things clean, presentable, safe. Sure, he wouldn't tell strangers how to live their lives, but when it came to the people around him? The people he cared about? He preferred them untouched.

He turned to you again, eyes hard. "There's nothing wrong with wanting the people I care about to take care of themselves properly."

You didn't flinch, just tilted your head slightly, like you were waiting for more. "Tattoos and piercings aren't unhygienic if done right," you replied. "But sure, let's pretend this is about safety and not just your obsession with control."

Sunoo laughed under his breath, the sound hollow. "Yeah? And let me guess—you're the expert now because you sat through a couple needle sessions and watched some tattoo TikToks?"

You leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, gaze unshaken. "No. But I'm someone who understands that self-expression doesn't need your permission."

The tension in the air crackled. And just when it felt like one more word would tip things over the edge, Jake returned to the table, smiling. "Miss anything?" he asked, completely unaware.

You leaned back smoothly, picking up your drink like nothing happened. "Not a thing."

That was it. He couldn't keep letting this slide. As much as he tried to convince himself he was just being overprotective, he knew deep down he was past the line of tolerating your presence. You were a bad influence on Jake—he was sure of it—and sooner or later, someone had to say it. That someone was going to be him.

Later that day, when you'd left first and it was just the two of them walking toward the station, Sunoo finally spoke. "Do you... ever feel a certain vibe from her?"

Jake blinked, looking over at him with an innocent confusion that made Sunoo want to scream. "Huh? Vibes? What kind of vibes?"

Bitch vibes, Sunoo almost blurted out. He had to stop himself from saying it out loud. He cleared his throat, trying to sound more composed. "Just... like, the way she talks. She always has something to say, and it's never just casual. It's like everything's meant to get a reaction."

Jake tilted his head slightly, clearly trying to follow. "You mean, like, she's too witty?"

Sunoo narrowed his eyes. "No, like... she's too comfortable? It's weird. And I don't trust it."

Jake just laughed, brushing it off too easily. "She's just chill. That's how she is with everyone. She's a good person, Sunoo. You just haven't gotten used to her yet."

Sunoo sighed, irritated. "That's the problem. I don't want to get used to her. And maybe you shouldn't either." He let the word slipped on his mouth.

Jake glanced at him, and for the first time, his smile faded a little. "She's my friend. You're my friend. Just... try not to be mean, okay?"

Maybe he had sounded a little too harsh, a little too pointed—but it wasn't like he was being mean for the sake of it. Sunoo knew what it looked like, but deep down, it wasn't about jealousy or drama. He was just trying to protect something that mattered to him before it got tangled up in whatever messy situation. He didn't trust easily, and the way you walked into their lives set off every internal alarm. But Jake... Jake wasn't the type to see danger. Not like Sunoo did.

"Sorry," he said quietly, reaching out to gently hold Jake's hand with a small smile. Jake just nodded and gave his hand a soft squeeze in return, the silence between them filled with a quiet understanding even if they didn't see eye to eye on everything.

Meanwhile, from your side of things, things were quite different.

The more time you spent around Kim Sunoo, the more curious you became. You weren't really interested in men. They were too predictable, too performative, too eager to please and too quick to disappoint. They were fun, sometimes, but they didn't hold your attention. But Sunoo was something else. You didn't even notice when it started. Maybe it was the way he carried himself. Maybe it was the way he bit back when provoked, or how he tried so hard to hide that he cared too much about the people around him.

You'd seen beautiful people before. You'd had flings, hookups, distractions. But Sunoo... he stuck. You were clearly interested. and there were moments that he annoyed you, sure. Challenged you. Threw shade but he made your brain work. He made your skin itch in that specific way only people you couldn't quite figure out ever did. And fine, maybe it was because he looked a little like a girl. Soft skin, pouty lips, those lashes that curled perfectly for no reason. You couldn't stop looking at him.

Well, too bad for you, he didn't seem the least bit pleased with your presence. And honestly? The feeling was mutual. He had that almost condescending way of speaking that made everything sound like a warning label. Foul controlling mouth, always ready with a "don't do this," or a "you shouldn't do that." He was a walking killjoy wrapped in pretty skin, constantly policing the air around him like joy was something to be monitored.

It didn't make sense. How could someone so tightly wound be friends with someone like Jake, who floated through life like a balloon one gust away from flying into the sun? What were they even talking about when you weren't around? Did Sunoo lecture Jake on posture and caffeine intake? Did Jake actually listen?

"Are you getting along with Sunoo well?" Jake asked.

You paused mid-hit with your vape, the familiar strawberry taste lingering on your tongue as you raised your leg up onto the bench, shoulders lifting in a shrug. You exhaled slowly, letting the smoke drift upward as you looked off to the side. "Define 'well,'" you murmured.

Of course, Jake would ask. And of course, Sunoo had probably said something. It was expected. That boy had a hard time keeping anything off his chest, especially when it came to people he clearly couldn't stand. Jake sighed, slumping back against the bench like your answer had physically disappointed him. "Aww, come on. I really want you two to get along," he muttered, pouting.

You glanced at him, the corner of your mouth pulling into a faint smirk. "Jake, I don't not get along with him. We just don't operate on the same wavelength." You watched as Jake's shoulders dropped a little, disappointment settling in. There was a pause, not long, but long enough for you to notice the way he kept looking at you like he was hoping for a better answer. So you gave him one, even if it came reluctantly. "He's interesting, though."

That made Jake perk up, turning to face you more fully, hope flickering back into his expression. "You think so?"

And with that soft look on his face, that typical sunshine that you could never seem to say no to, you found yourself giving in. Fine. The next time you saw Sunoo, you wouldn't provoke him. You'd leave his nerves alone for once, maybe even make an effort not to smell like smoke. You already knew that Sunoo probably hated the smell of cigarettes. The way he wrinkled his nose when you were near, how he subtly shifted his body away like he didn't want to breathe the same air, said more than enough.

He was the type who liked rules. Cleanliness. Probably thought smoking was a character flaw rather than a habit. So controlling. But if it meant keeping peace with Jake, you could give it a shot. And you really want to get along with  him, though. Not just a friend.

If men were animals, Sunoo would absolutely agree they were monkeys but honestly, even that felt unfair to monkeys. At least monkeys had a sense of community. They groomed each other, protected their own, had an instinct to care. Men? Men could barely carry a conversation without twisting it to revolve around themselves, like everything was orbiting their fragile egos. And what did it even say about him that he'd still actually tried to be patient with that last one? The man had poor communication skills, grammar that made Sunoo want to cry, a sense of humor so dry it could choke a cactus, and hygiene that was clearly not taught with enough urgency in his household. Sunoo had still shown up, been kind, understanding, even offered grace where he really shouldn't have.

And he got ghosted. After all that effort, after tolerating body spray that didn't cover the scent of unwashed laundry, and laugh emojis used in places where no jokes existed—Sunoo was the one who got left on read.

And as if the universe hadn't done enough damage, this morning, their Clinical Instructor decided to nitpick his grooming. Said his hair was too long and should be "cleaned up to maintain a professional image." Too long? It was barely brushing his ears!

Sunoo slammed his locker shut, lips pressed into a thin line as he yanked his lanyard off and stuffed it into his pocket. "I need a mango shake," he muttered under his breath, storming out of the building. "Or I need a drink. Or I need to get laid. Honestly, at this point, any of the three will do. Fuck this life."

And as if the day hadn't already tried to ruin him, it just kept going. Sunoo tripped over one of the uneven bricks in the university garden—in front of three freshmen and a couple from Dentistry—and his whole body hit the ground like it had something to prove. The worst part? He was wearing his white clinical uniform, freshly ironed this morning, and now it had mud on the knee, a grass stain on the sleeve, and his shoe was ruined. The sole peeled at the side like it was giving up on life, just like him.

He stood there for a moment, fists clenched, eyes locked on the sky like he was daring it to rain. His pride was already dented, his clothes dirty, his patience snapped and now, of course, not a single damn taxi in sight was stopping. He raised his arm again, waved it with enough energy to summon a ghost, but every car either sped past or pretended not to see him. People were staring. He could hear the soft chuckles, see the sideways glances. He was half a second from screaming into the void or kicking a bush, whichever came first.

And then came the low sound of motorbike. He turned his head, expecting just another person speeding past him like the rest of the universe, but the bike slowed down instead. The helmeted rider stopped in front of him, casually lifting the visor.

His eye twitched instantly. Of course it was you. Like the universe had specially selected you to appear right when he had the least energy to deal with anything, especially you. His grip on his bag strap tightened out of habit, maybe even to stop himself from doing something regrettable. The strap strained against his palm as he imagined how satisfying it would be to swing it straight at your little helmet.

You didn't speak but the amused curve of your lips said everything. Your eyes scanned his state—mud on his uniform, one shoe visibly damaged, face flushed with humiliation and frustration—and that damn smile only grew. "Rough day, pretty boy?"

Sunoo closed his eyes, shoulders rising with a deep inhale of your voice. He hadn't seen you in weeks, maybe months, and yet here you were, showing up when his life was at its absolute worst. He opened his eyes slowly, and instead of giving you the satisfaction of a scowl, he gave you a sweet, polite smile. "Fuck off."

You tilted your head slightly, helmet still on, visor up, as if you were genuinely trying to decide whether his attitude deserved a response. "Hmm," you murmured, nonchalant. "Need a ride, or are you into being publicly humiliated? Because you're doing a great job."

"I'd rather crawl," he muttered under his breath, shifting his weight, and instantly regretting it when his soaked shoe made a gross squish. Disgusting. This day was disgusting.

"Great," you replied, gripping the throttle. "Let me know how far that gets you. Good luck."

The engine growled once beneath you as you rolled the bike forward a little, just enough to make it clear you were ready to leave him standing there. And that should've been fine. He didn't need you. He didn't want your help.

Except he did. Because his legs were aching, his socks were wet, and none of the taxis had stopped for the last fifteen minutes, and to make things worse, he had class at two o'clock sharp. There was no way he could show up looking like this, not with the nursing department's obsession with cleanliness and grooming. One look at his uniform and they'd send him straight home. He didn't have the time or energy to risk that.

So, against every ounce of pride in his body, he swallowed hard and called out, "W-Wait."

The second it left his mouth, regret settled in. You didn't even bother to turn off the engine. You just tilted your head again, that damn helmet catching the light, your eyes already locking on his with that same irritating amusement you always wore around him.

Sunoo's eye twitched. His fingers curled tighter around the strap of his bag. Every part of him wanted to kick your stupid motorbike over and walk away barefoot, but his common sense—the part that knew wet shoes, strict instructors, and a late clinical check-in didn't mix—kept him rooted in place.

You raised your brows. "Changed your mind?"

"No," he snapped. "The universe is just clearly mocking me and you're the cherry on top."

You let out a short laugh. "That's not a no."

He clenched his jaw and looked away for a second, like maybe if he didn't see your face, he could pretend this wasn't happening. Then finally, after a long pause, he muttered, "I need a ride. That's it. Don't talk. Just drive."

You patted the back of the seat, without another word, the engine rumbled beneath you as you steadied the bike, shifting slightly to pull your helmet off and offer it to him. Sunoo blinked, hesitating. "You're not wearing one?"

You tilted your head, brushing your hair out of your face as you balanced the bike with one leg. "You're in a clinical uniform. If we get stopped, guess who they'll blame for not following safety rules? Just take it, Nurse."

He didn't reply, just snatched the helmet from your hand and mumbled something under his breath that sounded like, I hate you, though it came out too tired to carry any real hatred. He shoved it on, adjusting the strap a little too aggressively before climbing on behind you.

"Jake said your place is near the Avenue, right?" you asked, eyes already ahead. "I'm going the long way. No checkpoints."

Sunoo gripped the back handle awkwardly at first before giving in and placing his hands lightly on your waist for balance, trying not to think too hard about the contact. "Whatever," he muttered. "Just drive."

The wind wrapped around both of you, warm against his face, tugging at his hair and slipping into the space between his collar and neck. He hated how natural it felt to sit there with you, hated how the scent of your perfume still clung to the inside of the helmet. He hates the smell of the strawberry yet he don't know why it was giving him comfort right now.

"Drop me off at that corner," he said, leaning closer to make sure you heard him, pointing toward the shaded part of the sidewalk ahead.

You didn't say anything—just pulled over smoothly and tapped the brakes until the bike came to a steady stop. The second it did, he got off like the seat had turned hot, quickly removing the helmet and smoothing down his messy hair. He held the helmet out toward you stiffly.

You took it, setting it on the handlebars, and exhaled a breath. "You know," you started, giving him a once-over, "for someone who acts so obsessed with respect and rules, you're really bad at saying thank you."

Sunoo let out a breath that was halfway between a scoff and a sigh. "I didn't ask for your help."

You shrugged, hands settling easily on the handles. "Yeah. But you still climbed on."

He looked at you for a moment, lips twitching like he wanted to say something else but couldn't find the energy. Instead, he turned his gaze away, cheeks flushed from heat.

"Fine," he said, barely above a mutter. "Thanks. For the ride."

Your smile widened, "anytime, pretty boy."

He rolled his eyes, turned around, and walked off before you could enjoy the look on his face any longer. But you were already watching his back as he stormed away, your fingers brushing against the helmet. Cute. So damn cute!

"What do you mean you're not going?" Sunoo asked, frowning as he walked alongside Jake through the hallway.

"I'm busy," Jake replied, reaching for his locker and spinning the lock. "Jungwon's coming anyway, right? Just vibe with him for now. You'll survive a night without me."

Sunoo let out a dramatic sigh and stomped his foot, clearly not in the mood to be reasonable. "But I want you there! It's not fun without you."

Jake pulled out a thick review binder and glanced at him over his shoulder. "I've got a summative test on Monday, remember? It's kind of important. We could just crash at my place after, maybe do a sleepover?"

"Ihhh," Sunoo whined, dragging out the sound. "I don't want to sleep, I want to drink."

Jake raised an eyebrow, already sensing where this was headed. "Don't tell me this is about that guy from the other school ghosting you. Again."

Sunoo rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand. "It's not about that. I just... feel like drinking. That's all."

Jake stared at him for a moment, closing his locker slowly, trying to read beneath the surface. "Right. Totally not about him." He slung his bag over one shoulder and sighed. "Look, let me get through these notes first. If I finish early, I'll come join you. But until then, just go with Jungwon, okay?"

Sunoo pouted but didn't argue further. He hated going without Jake, but sulking alone wouldn't change the plan. He was going out tonight, one way or another and with Jake or not, he was going to forget every bit of bullshit the week had piled on him. Even if it meant dragging Jungwon into whatever he was about to step into.

He swore it was going to be just one drink—maybe two, while waiting for Jake but the moment they arrived, it turned out the party was practically a shrine to drinking games. The music was loud, the lights were low, and every corner had someone yelling "bottoms up!"

Jungwon, despite his initial confidence, was barely holding it together after three rounds of some game that involved slapping the table and chanting nonsense. He stood up abruptly, wobbling slightly as he pressed a hand to his stomach. "Oh my God, I feel like I'm going to vomit. Why am I such a loser?" he groaned, and without waiting for a response, excused himself, muttering something about needing air—or a toilet.

Sunoo, meanwhile, wasn't faring much better. His head was spinning, cheeks flushed, and his limbs felt like they were being operated by someone else. He didn't even realize when the giggles turned into sniffles, and the sniffles turned into full-blown tears. He ended up kneeling by the edge of the marble platform near the open balcony, smacking his fist weakly against the cool surface as the alcohol dragged his emotions right out of him.

"Ehhhhhh," he cried, voice cracking pitifully. "I want a boyfriennnnddd!"

Jay, who had been casually sipping beer on the couch nearby, looked up in alarm as Sunoo stumbled toward him with watery eyes. He stopped in front of him, wiping at his cheeks like it would hide the mess.

"Pleaseee," Sunoo sniffled, leaning close. "Find me a boyfriend. I want to be loved. I'm so soft. I'm so kind. Why am I suffering?! Ugh."

Jay blinked, glanced around the party like someone might swoop in and handle the situation for him, and when no one came, he slowly set his beer down. "...Do you want water?"

Sunoo gasped, "I want love, not hydration!" he wailed, continue to sob.

Before Jay could figure out what to do with that level of emotional spiral, someone approached from behind.

"Jay, the owner's already handing us the money—what the fuck?"

Sunoo blinked through his tears and looked up, vision blurry as your voice rang out. You stood just inside the balcony doorway. Red halter sando clinging to your shoulders, he noticed a tattoo. Ink, in a soft pinkish-red tone, winding delicately along your shoulder and upper arm. The design was detailed floral vines and swirls that traced across your collarbone and around your bicep. It was so beautifully done, it almost looked like it was growing from your skin, and that pissed him off even more. Your baggy jeans low on your hips, your hair twisted into a messy bun. A guitar strap slung diagonally over your body, cigarette hanging loose between your fingers. Your eyeshadow was smudged black and glittery, clashing violently with your red lipstick, but somehow you made it work—though Sunoo would never admit that out loud. Not even if he were dying.

There was no smirk this time, no teasing glint in your eyes. Just a quiet kind of concern as you stared down at him. And he hated it. Absolutely hated it!

So, naturally, he raised his middle finger at you with zero hesitation. Jay glanced between the two of you and awkwardly took a step back. "You know him? Can you, like... deal with that? I need to talk to someone real quick." And just like that, he vanished quickly into the crowd, getting the guitar off on your shoulder to avoid any responsibilities.

Sunoo only sobbed harder. You sighed, dragging your foot across the cigarette to put it out before crouching in front of him. "What the hell happened to you?" you asked, eyeing his flushed cheeks, watery eyes, and hands tugging uselessly at the front of his shirt. "Where's Jake? Did he leave you here like this?"

Sunoo sniffled, bottom lip trembling. "I want to get laaaaaiiiid," he wailed, grabbing your shoulder. "Why can't people stay? What's wrong with me?!"

You blinked slowly, barely reacting to him shaking your shoulder with every word. "Maybe... because you're controlling?"

Sunoo froze, then glared at you, eyes wide and offended. "Fuck you! You can't even give me basic emotional support? What kind of monster are you?"

You let out a breath and sat down fully in front of him. "You want emotional support? Fine. You're hot. You're smart. You've got flawless skin and cheekbones people would sell their soul for. Now stop crying like the world ended. You're embarrassing both of us."

Sunoo sniffled again, staring at you with eyes too round and glassy for his own good. "Do you mean it?"

"Yes, I mean it," you muttered, already unlocking your phone to text Jake. "Now let's get out of here before you sob all over someone else's balcony—"

"No!" he snapped, suddenly snatching your phone and stepping back.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, your fingers twitching in the air where your phone had just been. Sunoo stood tall now, swaying only slightly, the alcohol clearly still sitting heavy in his limbs, but his grip on your phone was surprisingly solid. "Sunoo—" you warned, reaching for it, only for him to lift it higher. Damn his height.

He looked down at you, still flushed, lips pulling into a mischievous little smile that was way too proud for someone who had been sobbing on the floor five minutes ago. "It's my turn to be annoying," he said, tilting his head. "Am I actually hot?"

"Sunoo—" you sighed through your teeth, rising onto the balls of your feet. "Yes, you're hot. Now give me my phone back."

He raised it even higher. "So I'm not ugly?"

"You're pretty, Sunoo. Very pretty," you said, swallowing a dry knot in your throat as you felt your face heat up. His body was too close again, and this was definitely not where you thought the night would go.

Before you could collect yourself, he slumped forward, head landing against your neck with the weight of all his sadness. "Then why the hell does everyone cheat on me?" he wailed, and the force of him nearly knocked you backward until your spine hit the metal railing.

You stood there, half-pinned under a very clingy Kim Sunoo, awkwardly patting his back as you tried to retrieve your phone. But his grip only tightened.

He pulled away slightly, just enough to look at you, eyes still red, but his lashes clumped and wet and his lips trembling. "L-let's drink?" he mumbled. "You're annoying. I still hate you a little but I'll forget it. J-just... just don't smoke, okay? I don't like it when people smoke, okayyy?"

"Sunoo," you exhaled slowly, adjusting your balance as he kept his weight partially slumped on you, "I'm not drinking. I only came here for a gig. And I'm driving my bike. I have work tomorrow—"

"Owww-kayyy?" he cut you off with a lopsided pout.

You stared at him, unblinking. "I'm going to call Jake now."

"Owww-kayyy?" he repeated, holding your phone.

You sighed and pressed your fingers to the bridge of your nose. "Okay," you muttered.

That was all he needed. Sunoo let out a soft cheer, grabbing your hand with enthusiasm as he pulled you back into the party. You thought you were just going to drink with him, maybe a shot or two to shut him up, but Sunoo clearly had other plans.

His version of "let's drink" turned out to mean filling an entire cup with whatever was on the table and practically forcing it into your hands. You barely had time to brace yourself before he was tipping the rim toward your lips, eyes wide and sparkling.

You coughed through the first one, gagged through the second, and by the time the third hit your throat, you were wincing with every swallow. It burned all the way down and you already knew you wouldn't survive the night. For someone who smokes like it's your job, your alcohol tolerance was embarrassingly low and hangovers always hit like a truck. But then again, Sunoo was too pretty to say no to when he smiled like that, even with that annoying bratty glint in his eye.

"Party, partehhh! Yeahh!" he shouted, twirling you into the crowd like you were suddenly best friends.

Somehow, you ended up in the middle of the dance floor. Lights spinning, bass vibrating through your chest, and before you could stop yourself, your body had already leaned back against him. His hands found your waist automatically, and you didn't know if it was the alcohol or something else entirely, but your hips were moving, grinding gently against him in time with the beat.

You tilted your head slightly, cheek brushing his jaw as you muttered, "Maybe... men aren't for you, Sunoo."

He blinked down at you, clearly dazed, but still gripping your waist. "What?" he said, almost laughing.

"Swing for girls this time," you slurred with a half-smile, your fingers lightly tracing his cheek, your eyes struggling to focus. "Girls won't cheat on you."

He snorted. "Women were never my thing, bitch."

Your smile faltered just a little, and you pouted up at him, thumb brushing over the edge of his cheekbone. "In a relationship... or in sex?" You tilted your head and looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. "Because girls? They'll treat you right. They'll adore you. They'll give you the kind of head that makes you forget your own name."

Sunoo's breath caught for a second, but he didn't move away. "I know that," he muttered. "I'm one of the girls."

You hummed, dragging your gaze along his features, watching the way he blinked slower now, how his lips parted slightly as your words pressed deeper. "Mmm. But have you ever been treated like that by a girl?" you asked again, your hips shifted, rolling back just enough to press against the heat of him.

Sunoo bit his bottom lip, hard enough to leave a mark. He wanted to shove you away, curse you out, remind you just how much you irritated him—but something burned hotter in his veins than the alcohol and it was how intoxicating you looked.

He shouldn't be doing this. You were the last person on earth he should be doing this with, but then again, nothing about tonight was going according to plan. And before he could stop himself, his hands gripped your waist tighter, dragging you closer as his lips crashed into yours.

The next thing he knew, the two of you were stumbling into the restroom at the end of the hallway, the door slamming behind you. His fingers tangled into your hair, pulling tight as your back hit the sink. He hated the taste of your cigarette on your tongue, but he kissed you harder anyway. Your hands were already under his shirt, nails scraping lightly down his spine, pulling a sharp breath from his throat.

You feel his tongue exploring your mouth, moving slow, tasting you with a hunger that makes your body respond without thinking. A moan slips from your lips as heat builds between your thighs, your panties dampening at the way he kisses you.

When you finally break the kiss, your lips trail down to his neck, licking and sucking lightly until you reach his collarbone. He presses closer, breathing heavily into your hair, hips grinding into you with shaky rhythm. Both of you moan at the friction, your bodies feeding off each other's heat.

Your hand finds his waistband, fingers tracing the bulge that's been growing harder against you. The shocking huge shape beneath makes you sigh, anticipation curling low in your belly. "Fuckkk," you moan, dropping to your knees without hesitation.

Sunoo's body fell back against the sink, one hand gripping the edge, the other running through his hair like he didn't know what to do with himself. His hands were trembling as he tried to undo his belt, and he almost laughed at how clumsy he felt. But the moment was too charged, his head was light, his blood too loud. The part of him that used to think only about what it felt like to be touched was now spinning with curiosity. This—this was different. He never imagined being on the receiving end like this would feel so... unreal.

He glanced down, and the sight of you kneeling for him, eyes locked on his, lips slightly parted and ready—his mind just blanked. The way your tongue pierced glinted under the light, the tip teasing out like you were offering it, patient and inviting, made his stomach tighten painfully. "Shit," he whispered, voice cracking slightly, pulling his pants and briefs down. You stared up at his cock, your lashes fluttering at the sight. Your mouth watered at the sheer size of him, and without hesitation, you leaned closer, resting your hands on your knees like you were waiting for a command.

He couldn't believe this was what guys saw. No wonder they were obsessed with it. The view of you like that, lips ready, eyes dark with need, tongue out with that cold little metal ball waiting to touch his skin, it was pure insanity. No fantasy ever looked like this. "Fuck," he groaned again, gripping the back of your head gently as he pushed his tip toward your tongue. The second the metal touched him, he hissed, his thighs twitching from the shock of cold piercing against the heat of his cock.

And as you looked up, never breaking eye contact while slowly letting him in—he knew. He knew exactly what he'd been missing.

Sunoo had always been the one with his knees pressed down, the one getting grabbed and pulled and used, and he loved every second of it. But this was different. The way your mouth wrapped around him, how you looked so eager, how your tongue pressed and moved with purpose—his stomach was already tightening with every wet glide and suck.

"Ahh, fuck, fuck..." he whined out, head falling back as his fingers tangled in your hair, pushing you down farther. He heard the sound of your throat struggling to keep him in, your soft choking only making his hips twitch with more urgency. It was too wet, too warm, too fucking perfect.

You stayed steady, letting your throat open the best you could as you followed the rhythm of his grip. Your tongue dragged along the underside of his length, right at the base where you knew it would hit different. His moan echoed across the small room, shameless and wrecked, not caring who could hear him anymore. All he cared about was the heat wrapping around his cock and how your mouth didn't stop. You glanced up again, needing to see him, and the view made you moan around him. His skin was flushed, red climbing up to his neck, his lashes low and trembling, mouth open as he gasped through each thrust. He looked completely undone—eyes barely staying open, hands gripping you like he needed you to stay exactly there.

Your throat tightened as he gave you no space to breathe, and still, you didn't pull away. Your hands stayed planted on your knees, nails pressing into the denim as tears blurred your eyes, your breath hitching through your nose. But the way your pussy clenched from it—the helpless feeling, the rawness of it—made it all the more addictive.

Especially when both his hands now gripped your head tighter and pushed until your nose pressed flush against his navel. "I-I'm close... oh fuck, I'm close, I—I'm—" Sunoo cried out, his voice cracking with how intense it felt. His hips were moving faster now. The sound of your mouth choking around him only pushed him over the edge harder. He didn't think it could feel this good, he didn't even know he could feel this way at all.

And you didn't either. You didn't know why it felt so right, so filthy, so addicting. You'd never had anyone this desperate for you before. And Sunoo had never had anyone take him like this.

His moan was loud, body trembling as his legs struggled to keep him upright. His hips kept moving on instinct, grinding into your mouth until he finally came, thick and hot down your throat. You felt it hit the back of your tongue, swallowing quickly as he groaned above you, the pleasure written all over his flushed face.

"God, fuck... it feels so good," he breathed out, chest heaving while his hands held you there, not even realizing how hard you were trying to breathe through it. Your eyes fluttered shut as you swallowed the last of him, head light and lungs burning.

You tapped his thigh with a shaky hand, and after a moment, he loosened his grip, letting you fall back slightly. You coughed a bit, trying to catch your breath, throat sore but mind still hazy from the alcohol and heat. Everything felt like it was spinning a little when you stood up, your body swaying slightly as the room tilted around you.

Sunoo reached out, catching your shoulder to steady you, and turned on the sink. He cupped a bit of water in his palm, guiding it to your lips. You leaned in, letting the cold water cool your mouth, then wiped your lips with the back of your hand. You coughed again, softer this time, and both of you stood there in silence for a beat—still too drunk to make sense of anything, too tired to care.

"I want to sleep," Sunoo mumbled, voice groggy as his arms hung by his sides. You helped him pull his pants back up, your fingers clumsy, and when you looked up, he was already leaning into you. His lips brushed against your neck, then your jaw, then a small kiss landed on your lips softly, a quiet thank-you or maybe just a mistake.

Neither of you said anything as you stumbled out of the bathroom together. Your feet dragged, his weight slumped against you. When you pushed open one of the nearby rooms, the two of you collapsed onto the bed without thinking. His body pressed into yours, your hand resting on the curve of his thin waist, and with a final exhale, his breathing evened out into soft snores.

You stared at the ceiling for a moment, the night still buzzing in your head, and quietly hoped that come morning, Sunoo wouldn't look at you like it was all just a drunken blur he wanted to forget.

Well. You woke up to a loud squeal beside you, the sound shooting straight through your skull. Your head was pounding, every throb pulsing deep at your temples. This was exactly why you preferred smoking over drinking, at least cigarettes didn't make the world spin like this.

"Oh my God! W–why are we cuddling?! Why are you here in the first place?! D–did something happen to us?!" Sunoo's voice cracked in pure panic, his hands clutching the blanket to his chest. Even though he was fully clothed, he looked scandalized beyond belief.

You groaned and squinted against the light, trying to sit up despite the dull ache in your body. Your fingers pressed to your temples, trying to remember what the hell even happened. The room was unfamiliar, the sheets smelled like detergent, and your mouth tasted like cotton.

Before you could even collect a full thought, Sunoo slapped your back hard. You let out a sharp whine and turned to glare at him. "Aww, fuck! What the hell was that for?"

"Did something happen between us?!" he repeated, eyes wide and clearly on the verge of spiraling.

You stared at him for a second, still processing. "How would I know?" you mumbled, rubbing your face. "I drank more than I should have, and my memory's a blur. You're fully clothed, I'm fully clothed. Relax."

But he didn't calm down. In fact, he froze completely, the color draining from his face as something clearly hit him. You watched as his hands slowly moved to grip his hair, fingers tangling at the roots while his expression twisted into disbelief.

"No. No. No no no—" he whispered, and then gasped. "Oh my God. Oh my fucking God."

He wasn't even looking at you anymore. His eyes were somewhere far away as flashes from last night started to crash into him. Your lips on his, your hands tugging on his belt, your mouth sinking down while he leaned back against the sink. The heat. The noise. The way he came so hard he couldn't feel his legs. His whole body went stiff.

"You... you gave me head," he said in a whisper, voice dead with disbelief. "Oh my God. You gave me fucking blowjob."

You blinked, trying to place it. You remembered the bathroom. The taste. The sound of his moaning echoing off the walls. Shit. "Something did happen to us, you fucking bitch!" he suddenly screamed, face flushed red with shock and rage. "I'm reporting you—I'm serious, I swear—"

You screamed when he lunged and grabbed a fistful of your hair, the shock of it making you yell right back. "Fuck! Let go of me, psycho!" you snapped, swatting at his hand, your own hangover making it feel ten times worse.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he screeched, shaking your head like he could shake the memory out with it. "Why would you—?!"

"Why would I?!" you shouted, finally pulling away, hair a mess and heart racing. "You literally moaned like it was the best thing that ever happened to you!"

"Because I didn't know what was happening! I thought it was a dream! I was drunk!"

"So was I, dumbass! You kissed me first!"

Sunoo froze again, mouth open, his chest rising and falling. You watched him in silence, heart sinking a little at the way he looked at you—like he was scrambling to make sense of something that never should've happened.

Your mouth felt dry again. There was this strange weight in your chest, like disappointment settling in even though you couldn't quite figure out why. You were both drunk. He was gay. Of course it didn't mean anything. And, if you weren't drunk, you wouldn't have done it either. You lowered your gaze, biting the inside of your cheek as that silence started to stretch between you.

"L-let's just pretend this never happened," Sunoo finally said, breaking the quiet as he stood up. His voice was shaky, not angry anymore, just desperate to erase it all. He dragged his palm down his face, then pressed it against his mouth like the words were spilling out faster than he could stop them. "I'm gay... and you're... whatever. Uhh... Let's not tell this to Jake, okay?"

You rolled your eyes as you got to your feet, fingers brushing through your hair while ignoring the lump tightening in your throat. "Whatever you want," you muttered, focusing instead on searching for your socks and bag, anything to avoid the way your chest ached for reasons.

"This will never happen again. God. I feel like I just betrayed my own kind," Sunoo muttered, slapping both cheeks with enough force to make you wince. "I need to go. I need to wash everything. This is disgusting. I'm disgusting."

You didn't say anything. Just watched him from the corner of your eye while pulling your socks on, keeping your back straight and blank face.

Sunoo glanced over, eyes catching on the side of your face. Something about the way you sat there so still, lips pressed together, skin marked faintly made his chest tighten. The memory crept in again—your hands, your mouth, the sound of your moan swallowed around him—and it made his stomach twist in the worst way. He shook his head. He was sober now. He shouldn't be feeling this again.

"Let's never see each other again," he said before leaving without waiting for a response.

You stared at the floor for a long second, blinking slowly. Never see each other again, huh? You almost laughed. As if you'd let him go that easily.

Sunoo didn't even understand why the memory was still stuck in his head, looping in the background of every moment like some curse he couldn't shake. It had already been a seven full days and yet the image of your lips, the sound of your moan, the warmth of your mouth still haunted him like it just happened yesterday. Worse, every time he thought about it, his dick twitched like it had a mind of its own, getting hard embarrassingly fast without warning.

He tried to brush it off as stress. He was tired, overloaded with work, and his hormones were probably all over the place. It made sense, right? Wet dreams weren't exactly rare. They were involuntary, normal even, just a sign of the body releasing tension during sleep. But the part that bothered him the most wasn't the act itself. It was who was in them. Why you? Out of everyone, why was it you? He would've understood if it were someone like Byeon Woo Seok. But no. It was your voice in his ear, your mouth on him, your name falling from his lips as he woke up in cold sweat with a sticky cum in his pajama pants. It was fucking humiliating.

He had just started to zone out again when a voice broke through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality.

"Erection is normal," Jungwon said clearly, standing at the front of the room with a microphone in hand. The school's seminar hall was full of restless teenagers, and he was doing his best to keep the attention. "It's a biological response to arousal or stimulation, often caused by elevated testosterone levels, especially during adolescence. That's why morning wood or even spontaneous erections can happen—it's not always sexual. Sometimes, it's just hormonal regulation or increased blood flow."

Sunoo swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Great. As if he needed that lecture right now.

"It's also common to have sexual dreams," Jungwon continued. "It's the brain's way of releasing suppressed feelings or stress. It doesn't always mean you're in love with the person in your dream—it could just be your mind reacting to unresolved tension."

Sunoo sat motionless, trying not to roll his eyes. He knew Jungwon probably didn't believe half the words he was saying and was just parroting the textbook to get the presentation over with. Unresolved tension? Please. That had to be the most bullshit, overused explanation. Sexual dreams were normal, just a biological function. A reflex. Wet dreams, erections, the occasional stray thought—they were all just part of how the body worked.

It was only men who liked turning every little reaction into some psychological crisis. Like it wasn't enough that your dick got hard at the wrong time, you now had to wonder why. No. He refused to play into that.

Still, he felt hot under the collar. He shifted in his seat as Jungwon kept talking, his voice fading into background noise while Sunoo's thoughts crawled back where they weren't supposed to go. Your mouth. The pressure of his hands on your head. That one sharp breath he let out when your tongue pressed against him just right. The way he swore he could still feel the metal ball of your piercing even when he was lying awake, sweating in bed, trying not to think about it —

"Sunoo!" His whole body jolted forward when someone suddenly slammed into him from behind. He turned sharply, only to see Jake grinning as he wrapped him in a tight hug.

"Long time no see! How've you been?" Jake beamed, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Sunoo blinked, his heart still racing from being startled. He squirmed out of Jake's grip, pulling his arm away from around his waist with a small scowl. "You fake bitch," he muttered, brushing off his uniform. "You said you'd go to the party last week!"

Jake tilted his head and gave him a sheepish grin. "I did! I just didn't come up to you because you were already with someone," he said, voice light but teasing, his smile carrying that knowing edge that made Sunoo freeze on the spot.

The words hit him like a cold splash of water, cutting straight through the fog of his thoughts. Shit! Sunoo's back straightened as his chest squeezed uncomfortably tight. "I-It's not what it looked like, Jake," he said quickly, voice pitching higher than he meant. "I can explain. N-Nothing happened, I swear—"

Jake raised an eyebrow in confusion, his playful smile returning as he slung an arm over Sunoo's shoulder again. "What are you talking about?" he laughed. "I'm just happy you're getting along with her! You know how much I wanted the two of you to be friends. So when I saw you drinking with her, I thought, finally! I didn't want to bother you two."

Sunoo's jaw went slack for a second. He blinked slowly as Jake's words settled in and then his face flushed with heat, the panic collapsing. You two. Drinking. Laughing. And Jake saw it. He saw it and just... assumed it was some innocent bonding moment. Sunoo nodded stiffly, forcing a laugh that came out more like a wheeze. "Y-Yeah... totally. Just... friends."

Jake didn't notice his discomfort, he just kept smiling, talking about the seminar and how awkward Jungwon looked trying to talk about erections with a straight face, but Sunoo could barely listen. If only he knew that every time Sunoo closed his eyes, it wasn't friendship playing behind his eyelids.

All your life, you've gotten things on your own terms. It wasn't about being selfish—it was about knowing what you wanted, and not being afraid to take the steps to get there, even if it meant breaking a few unspoken rules. You never apologized for it. Why should you? The world had never handed you anything easily, so you carved out space with your own hands, shaping your wants into reality.

You liked pretty things. You liked strawberries. You liked painting girls with soft collarbones and delicate fingers. You liked drawing in sharp eyeliner and wearing red lipstick even when it didn't match your outfit. You liked the way women looked in moonlight, skin glowing and bare emotion written on their faces. Women were softness and power and aching beauty, and for a long time, that's all you thought you'd ever want.

Boys were always just background noise. You flirted with them when you were bored, when you needed a distraction or when you were too tired of explaining to everyone why you leaned toward women. It was easier to let boys talk, to let them orbit around you. Most of the time, they never lasted long. They'd get close enough to realize they couldn't figure you out, and then drift away. It never bothered you. You liked being the one who stayed in control anyway.

But Sunoo was too pretty to be background noise. Too loud in your mind, even in his silence. He was sharp and delicate all at once. Sunoo is not boring. He was vibrant. Infuriating. Complicated. Unlike everyone else, Sunoo wasn't supposed to want you. And you weren't supposed to want him. You didn't chase boys. You didn't even like most of them. But with Sunoo, it wasn't about gender—it was about him. His contradictions. His moral high ground that cracked when his lips were on yours.

Now that you got a taste, you wanted to keep him. You wanted to grab him by that pretty throat and tie a little ribbon around it, mark him, stake your claim. All that fire in him, all that sharp defiance, the self-righteous storm he carried — it would be such a waste to let someone else come along and break him in the wrong way. Someone who wouldn't know how to cherish it like you would.

The wanting was dangerous. But so was he. And it was so much fun to want something you weren't supposed to have. And lucky you—Jake, in all his well-meaning sunshine, handed him right into your lap.

"I'm really glad now that you're friends," Jake grinned, arms flinging around both of you as he squeezed you close. "I can finally call us a trio now!"

You blinked in mild surprise. You hadn't even known this was a sleepover. From the way Jake had worded it earlier, you assumed it was just the two of you catching up over snacks and maybe a few drinks. But now here you were, wedged on the couch with Sunoo stiff on your other side, Jake's warmth pressed between you both. How thoughtful of him. You smiled. Jake was far too kind for his own good and far too generous with forcing proximity, but you didn't mind this time.

Sunoo, on the other hand, looked like someone had physically unplugged him. He was hugging his pillow so tightly it, eyes unfocused as he stared at nothing in particular. His face was blank, but you could read the confliction in every inch of him. Like he was holding himself together by a thread.

What you couldn't see was how hard he was trying to think of anything else besides the fact that he could smell your perfume again and it triggered something in his body. He clenched his thighs together subtly, trying to shift his hips so the growing problem in his pants wouldn't become visible. But the effort was a losing game. God, what the hell was wrong with him? He was still angry, still confused, still mortified that it happened in the first place and yet, his body clearly had no loyalty to his conscience.

What made it worse was Jake who had somehow tricked him into showing up for a supposed movie night and now had them sandwiched together like nothing ever happened between you and him. Jake didn't know, of course. And he couldn't know! Sunoo would rather choke on his own tongue than have to explain why his best friend's not-so-favorite person was suddenly invading his dreams at night and, worse, making him wake up soaked and panting like a hormonal teenager.

"What movies should we watch?!" Jake practically bounced on the couch, his grin wide as he looked back and forth.

You leaned closer, sliding your arm around Jake's. Your gaze flicked to Sunoo, who sat stiff on the other end of the couch, his posture awkward, eyes avoiding yours. "What about horror?" you said as you tilted your head, pretending not to notice how Sunoo seemed to sink deeper into the couch cushions. "Sunoo?"

Sunoo blinked, eyes snapping toward you. "Huh?" His voice cracked, his hand subtly dragged the throw pillow over his lap, fingers clutching the edges.

"Horror is gonna be fun! Imagine the thrill!" Jake turned toward you with shining eyes, already fired up. "Remember Sunoo during Evil Dead Rise? He was screeching like someone dipped him in cold water!" He burst out laughing.

You joined in, not because it was that funny but because you liked the way Sunoo glared at you when you did. His eye twitched, lips tightening in a way that made you want to press your thumb against the corner of his mouth just to see if it would twitch again.

"I didn't scream," Sunoo muttered under his breath. "It was a reflex."

Jake leaned forward to grab the remote, still chuckling. "A reflex that shook the entire floor. I had to check if we were having an earthquake."

Sunoo gave a tight, silent laugh that didn't reach his eyes. You stretched slightly, draping one leg over the other, your foot brushing lightly against Sunoo's knee. "So horror it is," you said.

Sunoo immediately jerked his leg away. "I'm not scared," he snapped, voice thin with defensiveness, eyes flicking toward you but never staying long.

"Who said you were?" you asked sweetly, lips twitching. "But maybe I can hold your hand if you get too nervous."

"I'd rather hold hands with a corpse," he muttered.

Jake, oblivious to the growing tension between you, scrolled through the options. "Let's start with Hereditary. That one's a classic."

You leaned back, settling comfortably against the couch cushion, your arm still loosely around Jake's. But your gaze stayed fixed on Sunoo, watching how he tried to keep his composure. The way he looked everywhere but at you made it all the more tempting to push again.

"Oh my God!" Jake screamed, flinging himself off the couch just as the possessed girl on the screen leapt out from the shadows.

Sunoo jumped, too, not because of the film but because Jake's yell had blasted straight into his ear. "Fuck you!" he gasped, swatting at Jake's shoulder. "You're louder than the demon, you idiot!"

Jake laughed breathlessly, holding a hand over his chest. "I told you it was gonna be scary! I warned you!"

"You didn't say you were gonna be the jump scare," Sunoo muttered, rubbing his ear.

You couldn't help laughing from your corner of the couch. It was warm in the living room, the ambient light from the TV casting deep shadows across everyone's faces. The horror movie had wound itself tight with dread, and now, near the end, the tension in the room had shifted.

Jake reached for the remote to pause it. "Okay, okay, let's all take a break. My heart can't take it. I'm gonna set up the bed and grab more snacks before we finish the last part." He stood up with a stretch, already walking toward the shared room.

You watched Jake disappear down the hallway, the sound of his slippers dragging against the floor fading behind him as he excitedly prepped the bedroom with pillows and snacks, then turned your eyes to Sunoo, who had sunk deeper into the couch, hand rubbing his temple.

Your gaze drifted past him, toward the hallway where the bathroom light glowed faintly at the end. And just like that, the tiniest smirk curled at the corner of your lips. Bingo.

You grabbed the water bottle from the table and tipped it back, pretending to take a long drink—only for the opening to "accidentally" spill, the cold splash soaking the neckline of your shirt and running straight down your chest.

"Shit!" you hissed, jumping slightly as you stood up, swiping at your top with both hands in panic. The fabric clung to your skin, the damp cotton tracing the curve of your collarbone and neckline.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Sunoo's head snap toward you. His eyes widened for a moment before narrowing again, his signature glare sliding back into place. "Are you an idiot who can't drink water like a normal person?" he snapped. His eyes flicked from your face to your soaked shirt and back again before he shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the pillow over his lap again.

You scowled. "It was an accident," you muttered, pinching the hem of your shirt and pulling it slightly away from your body to keep the wet fabric from clinging too much. "I'm going to the bathroom." You turned your back, already halfway to the hall, but then paused just before you rounded the corner. You peeked back over your shoulder with a faux-hesitant voice. "Sunoo," you said sweetly, "can you... come with me?"

He straightened in his seat, eyes narrowed immediately. "What are you, five? You can walk to the bathroom on your own."

You turned around fully and gave your best pout. "But I'm scared," you said, dropping your voice. "What if something jumps out of the mirror and eats me?"

His lips parted slightly in disbelief. "It's literally a bathroom, not a haunted house. Get a grip."

You blinked at him with wide, innocent eyes, the corners of your mouth twitching. "I'm telling Jake—"

That was all it took. Sunoo moved fast. His hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist before you could finish the sentence, his grip is tight, more panicked than forceful. "We agreed to forget that already!" he whispered harshly, dragging you toward the hallway with quick steps. His face was already flushed as he pushed the bathroom door open and practically shoved you inside.

He followed, slamming the door shut behind him and twisting the lock.

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching with suppressed laughter. "I meant I was gonna tell Jake you were being mean to me. What exactly were you thinking, Sunoo?"

The color that spread across his face deepened from pink to a furious red, blooming up his neck and across his cheeks. His eyes darted away from yours, jaw clenched so tight you could see the tension ripple along the muscle there. He didn't answer immediately—his thoughts were clearly a mess, the memory of that night dragging up feelings he didn't want to admit were still there.

God, you were such a bitch. A beautiful, infuriating, unreadable bitch. "Fuck you," he muttered through clenched teeth, pressing his back to the door. His arms crossed over his chest, defensive, but it was already too late for that. "What the hell do you even want?"

You smiled, taking a small step forward, head tilting like you were weighing your options. You let your gaze drop slowly—first to his parted lips, then to his hands clenched into fists at his sides—and then back to his eyes.

"Hmmm," you hummed, fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the sink behind you as you leaned back, unbothered by how tense he was. "You."

Sunoo's pulse jumped so hard he felt it in his ears, and it really annoyed him.

"I think we're past the point of shyly pretending we're not attracted to each other, don't you think?" you asked casually, your foot tapping against the floor. "I mean, unless you're really going to pretend you don't think about it."

Sunoo swallowed hard, jaw tightening as he forced his expression into a cold and distant. His voice came out with a bite. "I was drunk. Whatever happened, it wasn't real. I'm sober now, and clearly, you're forgetting something—I'm gay." He stepped forward, huffing, defensive, like he needed to say it aloud to remind himself. "Even if I wasn't, even if I magically woke up straight, do you really think I'd be into someone like you? I wouldn't even hold your hand."

You smiled, unshaken. Your gaze dropped to the tile floor for a moment, nodding slowly like you were mulling it over, like you could almost believe him. "Hmmm. Really?" you said again, softly. Then you looked up and held his stare. "That's interesting."

"What happened was a mistake," he pressed. "Stop getting it twisted. You're not going to change anything. I like men—I've always liked men—and if I ever did like women, it sure as hell wouldn't be someone like you."

His words were sharp and cruel, but his voice cracked slightly on the last sentence. Your eyes flicked down to his hands again. Still clenched and shaking, you almost laughed, he was angry because he didn't know where to put this feeling, and his body was betraying him in every way.

"Okay," you said. "Sorry."

You didn't look sorry. You didn't even sound sorry. Then, without warning, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head. Sunoo nearly yelped. "What the fuck?!" he squealed, spinning around so fast. His hands flew up to cover his face. "Are you insane?! Put that back on! Jesus Christ, are you trying to traumatize me?!"

You didn't say anything at first. Just laughed softly, "you said you weren't interested, right? So what are you panicking for?" You rolled your eyes slowly and watched his stiff posture as he stayed plastered to the door. "Relax," you muttered, fingers reaching behind your back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall to the floor. "I'm wet, Sunoo. I'm not trying to seduce you—I already got my answer. Now, move."

His spine straightened at your words like you'd just smacked him. "What the fuck? Move where?!" His voice rose in panic, still facing away from you.

"I didn't bring an extra shirt. My bag's in the living room," you said flatly, stepping closer. "Now move."

He hesitated, like if he turned around something irreversible would happen. But his curiosity, or maybe his stupidity, got the better of him. Slowly, cautiously, he peeked over his shoulder—and then froze completely.

You were naked from the waist up. Completely bare, with a confidence. Your arms were crossed beneath your chest, body leaning against the sink like you were just waiting for him to get over himself. And God, he should've been used to this. He'd seen breasts before—he had female friends who changed clothes in front of him all the time. It never bothered him. It wasn't a big deal.

He tried to look away and he really, really did, but his eyes kept coming back to you like they were on a leash. Your skin glowed under the light, smooth and warm-toned, shadows carving down your ribs and hips. He noticed the tattoos. The delicate ink on your shoulder had already left an imprint in his brain from that day, but now he saw more. A fine, detailed floral design wrapped along the side of your torso, just above your hip and curling slightly toward your waist. A single lily bloomed in black and soft pink, with gentle shading that made it look almost alive. Watercolor-like strokes trailed from the petals, fading like smoke. The lines followed your curves perfectly.

Sunoo was breathless. He never cared for tattoos, they weren't pretty, but on you, they looked dressed as an art. And fuck, he couldn't stop staring. His gaze flicked to your chest, and a fresh wave of heat rolled through him. Your nipples were tight from the air, drawn and pointed, resting against full, natural curves that made his stomach knot. Why was he getting hard? This didn't make sense. Fuck. You were so hot it pissed him off.

You were staring at him, head slightly tilted, waiting for him to move. "Sunoo?"

Sunoo's fists clenched. He could feel saliva collecting in his mouth, and he swallowed hard like that would put out the fire already crawling down his spine. He blinked quickly, shaking his head. "You—fuck, you need to put something on," he said.

"My shirt's in the living room—"

"I don't care. Put something on," he cut in sharply, brows furrowed and his gaze turned firmly to the wall.

You didn't budge. "Jake already saw my tits, Sunoo. It's not a big deal—"

He didn't even know why it made his stomach flip and his chest burn, but it did. The thought of Jake seeing you like this, made a feeling claw up the back of his throat.

Sunoo was a nursing student. He studied hormonal response, human behavior, and the mind's reactions to stress and desire. But this wasn't in his textbooks. This wasn't just dopamine or misplaced frustration. Human emotions were more complicated than any clinical definition. No scientific framework could fully explain the way you made him feel.

"You're hard."

Sunoo felt his entire body go still. He could feel it too. The tight pressure in his pants, the unbearable way his cock had hardened while his mind scrambled to deny everything. He turned toward the mirror above the sink, refusing to meet your eyes as he muttered, "I-It's normal biological reaction."

The excuse felt paper-thin, almost pathetic in his mouth, but it was the only thing he could reach for. He was clinging to whatever logic he had left, because logic was safer than whatever the hell this was. Logic didn't leave him aching in places he shouldn't be aching. Logic didn't twist his insides just from looking at you.

You were still standing there, unfazed, topless and confident, your arms crossed under your chest like you were waiting for him to catch up. "Sunoo," you said his name softly.

He finally looked at you, eyes glaring. "I told you I'm gay," he said, and he hated how shaky his voice sounded. "This—this shouldn't be happening."

You took a slow step closer, and he didn't move. "You said that," you nodded, voice calm. "But I didn't ask what you are. I just told you what I want."

His eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to read between your words, searching for an angle, a trick. "So what is this to you? A joke? Some kind of game?"

"No. You're the one making it complicated."

His chest rose and fell unevenly. His mind kept trying to name what he was feeling—confusion, tension, desire, maybe all of it at once—but it was all bleeding together in a way that felt like drowning. "I've never—" he started, then stopped himself.

You waited. "Never what?"

"I've never felt this confused before," he said, eyes searching yours like he was hoping you'd give him a reason to pull away, something to ground him. "I don't even like women. I'm not supposed to want this."

"Then don't want it," you said simply, shrugging your shoulders. "But don't lie about it. Do you want me, Sunoo?"

He hated that. Hated how sure you sounded, how unapologetically honest you were while he was still tangled in his own fear and guilt, still gripping the edge of what he thought was certainty. You made everything seem so simple, so easy to name—want, touch, feel—while he was still trying to unlearn the rules he had been clinging to for so long. He wanted to push you away, wanted to hate you for making him feel like he was coming apart in his own skin. But even as that thought surfaced, his eyes dropped again to your lips, and lingered there too long. He hated how much he wanted you to close the space between you, how much he needed you to.

His breathing grew shallow, his chest rising in uneven waves, and when you leaned forward, he didn't retreat. Instead, his eyes fluttered closed. The second your mouth brushed against his, something inside him cracked open. He kissed you with a kind of desperation that made it clear he'd stopped pretending.

There was no hesitation when he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The warmth of your body beneath his hands made his head spin. He held you tightly, anchoring himself to the moment, to the gravity of your touch. His lips moved against yours, his hands trembled as they explored the lines of your back, fingertips pressing into your skin. You knew he was falling, and you welcomed it. You let him cling to you, let him kiss you and when your lips finally parted, you didn't say a word. You just let your hands trail down his chest, eyes locked on his flushed face as you sank down onto your knees before him.

Sunoo's breath hitched audibly. His hands flew to the edge of the sink behind him, trying to steady himself. You looked up at him, gaze dark and patient, and he looked down at you. His cock strained against his pajama, and when you undid the strings, your fingers brushing against him through the fabric, he nearly buckled.

The moment you freed him, he hissed through his teeth. You didn't tease him this time, you took him into your mouth. His hand instinctively reached for your head, gripping your hair too tightly as you slid your tongue over him, slow at first, deepening only when he let out a choked moan that vibrated from somewhere deep in his chest.

"F-fuck..." he whispered, eyes fluttering open, and the sight of you on your knees—bare, hungry, focused only on him. This time, there was no alcohol to blame. No drunken impulse to hide behind. Both of you were entirely sober, breathing the same heavy air. And you were right. You were far past the point of pretending you're not attracted to each other. Because, fuck...

He bit down on his bottom lip, struggling to hold back the sound threatening to crawl out of his throat when you pulled your mouth off him. The cold air brushed his wet skin for only a second before your hand wrapped firmly around his cock. You were looking up at him with such dark, focused eyes, and the glint of your tongue piercing when you stuck your tongue out made his stomach twist in ways.

His moan trembled out of him, a low, broken thing he tried and failed to swallow. His eyes fluttered shut as you began to stroke him, slow and tight, your fingers knowing exactly where to squeeze, where to drag your thumb. His hips jerked forward against your fist without thought. He was trembling, his thighs already straining, and when his hand moved to your head again, he didn't even register that he was holding you there, like he needed you in that position, grounded and close, while everything else slipped away.

With a choked sound, his release surged forward, hips stuttering as thick, hot ropes of cum spurted from him—painting your face, your tongue, and even your lips. You closed your eyes, but kept your mouth open, breathing heavy, letting it drip and settle across your flushed skin. The sight of you on your knees, panting, tongue out, face stained with the proof of what he'd given you—was too much. He'd never seen anything that fucking beautiful.

Sunoo's breath came out in short, ragged gasps. He couldn't look away. You were absolutely wrecked, eyes half-lidded, mouth still parted, tongue twitching slightly as the last of him spilled from the tip. His knees nearly buckled. And even as shame flickered somewhere in the distance, it didn't touch the way his chest clenched with need.

You were far past the point of pretending you're not attracted to each other. Because, fuck... in Sunoo's mind— You're really, really, really, attractive. You tilted your head, eyes still soft despite the mess on your face. "It's okay, Sunoo."

And that simple assurance hit harder than anything else had tonight, he had never felt so completely defeated and relieved at the same time.

Sunoo always joked that he was betraying his "gay motherhood," whatever the fuck that meant, but deep down, he was unraveling more than a label. His whole sense of self was spiraling, not because he didn't like men anymore, but because he couldn't stop liking what you did to him.

He was raised sure—sure he liked men, sure of who he was, sure of how the world saw him. But your mouth? Your hands? Your eyes on his body? That changed something. And maybe it wasn't even about gender or attraction or breaking rules, maybe it was just about how good it felt. Because, it did. Every time your tongue slid down his length or your lips curled into a smirk right before you swallowed him whole, he would grip your hair like it was the only thing tethering him to earth.

And he still hated it. Hated you. Hated how easily you pulled those sounds from him, how willingly he spread his legs, how badly he wanted to feel your throat tighten around him when he was too stressed to think straight. But hate was a weak word when it came to you because what he really felt was full of hunger and questions he couldn't answer, of relief he couldn't explain, and of moments when he forgot who he was supposed to be.

Somehow, this arrangement—whatever fucked-up kind of companionship it was—had become routine. He was stressed? You showed up, dragged him onto the bed, and made him forget the weight in his chest. You were tired of people? You'd drop to your knees and pull his pants down, muttering snarky words before your tongue did all the talking. When Jake invited you both for café dates, you'd suck Sunoo off in the bathroom beforehand, as if taking the edge off made you more tolerable in public.

And in between all that, without either of you saying it, you started learning each other. You knew the way his breath caught when you traced the tip of your tongue along the underside of his cock, the way he liked his thighs rubbed when he was overwhelmed, the way he pretended to hate your voice but kept asking you to hum while he was inside your mouth. He knew the difference between your smirk and your real smile, he noticed the way you always fixed his collar before he left for class, the way you paused before walking away like you wanted him to stop you, just once.

"Did you see my guitar pick? I was really sure I left it here." You asked, already half on the floor as you looked beneath his bed, your voice muffled against the floorboards. "My pen? Where did you put my pen?"

Sunoo didn't answer right away. He just scratched the back of his head, eyes skimming over his textbook. "Also, I think I left my hoodie here last week," you continued, lifting his blanket and peeking underneath. You spoke like it was nothing, like this wasn't the fourth time you'd been here this week, like you hadn't sucked him off on this very bed two nights ago while the rain beat against his window. "The red one? Oversized. The one you said was ugly."

"Stop leaving your things here and expecting me to be your lost and found," Sunoo muttered with a sigh, rolling his eyes as he stood from his desk. His hands moved to the drawer beside his bed, fingers quickly rifling through the clutter until he pulled out the small pile of things you'd been searching for.

Your guitar pick. A pen with a chewed-up cap. The scrunchie you claimed you didn't care about but had asked about three times. "Yay!" you chirped, voice bright as you threw your arms around his neck without hesitation. Your enthusiasm was full of sunshine and zero awareness of boundaries—not that he'd set any for you lately. Your body leaned into his, so warm, and for a moment, he didn't pull away. He didn't even stiffen. If anything, he just stood there with his jaw tight and eyes soft, letting you hang onto him.

Sunoo had learned a lot of unexpected things from you, but the first was this: you were clingy. Not in the way people usually mean it. You were clingy in the way a storm was clingy, so loud and unpredictable, but always returning, always right on time. You'd barge into his room to ruffle his hair without asking, leave lipstick stains on the rim of his mugs, and curse while crocheting in his living room.

Despite your sharp tongue, your smug smirks, and that bitchy little smile you wore whenever you knew you had the upper hand, there was something about you that kept curling into the edges of his life. The softness you tried to bury always slipped through—like now, as your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, your breath warm on his collarbone.

You hadn't even fucked, not really. Whatever this was between the two of you, it never crossed that final line. Sure, you'd given him head more times than he could count now, slipping between his knees, sometimes right after class or before dinner. Sometimes with a joke still on your tongue, your fingers working his zipper like it was just part of your daily routine. You'd even played with yourself while looking him dead in the eyes, teasing him, daring him, and yet still somehow managing not to strip yourself bare.

Pleasure was always good. You knew exactly what to do to unravel him. But it confused him on the way you stayed after. The way you talked to him about your professors and complained about your classmates, how you crocheted lopsided sweaters and left your yarn all over his room, like you expected to come back and finish them.

It was how you kissed his cheek when he looked stressed, how you'd fall asleep next to him fully clothed while he studied and pretend not to notice when he pulled the blanket over you.

"You need to stop acting like this is your place," he muttered, trying to keep his voice flat.

You didn't take the bait, instead, you leaned in and kissed his cheek loudly. Sunoo's entire face twitched in immediate response. His hand shot up, rubbing his cheek with the heel of his palm. "Eww," he muttered under his breath.

"Sorry!" you giggled, clearly not sorry at all with that look you always wore when you knew you were testing his patience, and then your hands were on his face again, squeezing his cheeks with affection. "You're just so adorable when you're cranky. I can't help it."

He groaned loudly, swatting at your wrists, trying to pry your hands off. "Stop calling me that."

You didn't flinch. In fact, you leaned closer, squishing his cheeks harder, and making a cooing sound that only made him more irritated. He slapped your arm but when you laughed again, that same light, reckless laugh that always made his ears feel too warm, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged.

"Ow, ow, ow!" you yelped, wriggling in place with a pout. You batted his hand away, fingers tangled in your strands, while your eyes stayed locked on his with a mixture of amusement and challenge.

"Leave me alone. I'm trying to review for my exams," Sunoo muttered, barely glancing at you as he rolled his eyes and turned back toward his desk. His hand reached for the highlighter beside his textbook, the yellow ink already bleeding into the edge of a paragraph he'd probably read four times without actually absorbing anything.

You walked over anyway, you squeezed into the tiny space beside him on a chair meant for one, and Sunoo groaned out loud, shifting his body to the side. The chair creaked beneath your combined weight, and your thigh was pressed flush against his. "I just need a favor from you," you said, casually brushing your hand across his table.

Sunoo let out another sigh. He looked over at you, unimpressed. "Favor? Only friends do favors," he replied flatly.

You turned to him with a gasp, placing a hand to your chest in mock offense. "Wow," you said, eyes wide and sarcastic. "Damn, after all the blowjobs I gave you? After the way we've made out on your bed, your floor, and that one time in your fucking kitchen? After all the hours I spent here telling you about my day while you pretended not to listen? You're telling me we're not even friends?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, his hand frozen halfway through underlining another sentence. You weren't wrong. You'd been coming around so often that your scent had started to cling to his sheets, your hair ties and red lipstick had begun appearing in random corners of his room, and your laugh had started to echo in his head long after you'd gone home.

You leaned in a little, close enough that he could feel your breath fan across his neck. "If this isn't a friendship," you added softly, "then what is your definition of friendship, Sunoo?"

He made a show of thinking, lifting his eyes like he was searching the ceiling for inspiration, but there was a glint in his expression that gave away how amused he actually was. "I don't know, girl. We haven't even properly introduced ourselves because you were too busy sucking my dick off," he replied, words nonchalant but his ears tinted red. He tried to keep his voice flat, sarcastic even, like that would mask the heat crawling up his neck.

You laughed, unbothered, and leaned your head against his shoulder with a casualness that shouldn't have felt so intimate, but somehow, it did. Sunoo shifted under the contact, scoffing, rolling his eyes, acting like he didn't care but you could feel it in the way he didn't move away.

"Okay, let's do this properly then," you said as you let your hand play with the edge of his sleeve. "I'm twenty. Fashion design major. I work part-time at two different cafés. I play gigs when I can, lead guitarist and vocalist of Jay's band. I crochet, bake, draw, paint—basically anything that can bring in money for tuition. I have three ex-girlfriends, all toxic in very different ways. And I like—"

"Wait," Sunoo cut in, body suddenly stiffening as he pulled back just enough to stare at you. His eyes were wide, lips parted slightly like he couldn't believe what he just heard. "You're gay?!"

Your mouth dropped open, blinking at him as your brain scrambled to rewind what you'd said. "I—I mean, isn't it obvious?" you managed, slightly flustered, though a part of you also found his surprise endearing in a frustrating way.

Sunoo didn't say anything right away. He kept looking at you, brows furrowed, lips parted in a stunned kind of silence like he was trying to piece you together again with this new piece of information you just casually dropped. You watched the flickers of confusion, surprise, maybe even a bit of disbelief in his face, and though you didn't fully understand why it mattered so much to him. "I like girls," you clarified again.

There was a beat of silence. Then Sunoo blinked hard, like he'd just snapped out of it, and his reaction was nothing short of dramatic. "I—I thought you were straight, girl!" he cried out with a squeaky kind of disbelief, and before you could defend yourself, his hand flew out and smacked your arm. Hard. The kind of smack that made your whole upper body jerk slightly from the force. You almost flew off the chair.

"Shit, Sunoo!" you yelped, rubbing your arm and glaring at him with a twisted expression of both pain and outrage.

But Sunoo wasn't listening. He was laughing—loudly, eyes crinkled, hand over his mouth like he couldn't believe what he was hearing and also couldn't stop himself from reacting. "I really didn't like you at first," he gasped between giggles. "Like, genuinely. I thought you were giving homophobic vibes! You were too confident, too flirty, and you stared at me like you were ready to fight or fuck, and I swear to god I thought you were trying to make me your weird little experiment!"

You blinked again, thrown off by the way he said it all so fast. "What the fuck, Sunoo," you muttered, half-offended but also kind of shocked that he thought all that while still letting you suck him off on the regular.

He slapped your shoulder again and kept cackling, his entire body tilted forward as he wheezed through it, completely losing himself in his own joke. "I mean, it makes sense now," he managed between laughter, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "That's why you're such a bitch—because you're gay!"

You didn't hesitate. Your hand landed right on his arm, a loud smack echoing through the room. "Are you forgetting that you're gay too, idiot?" you shot back, trying to sound annoyed but failing to hold back your grin.

Sunoo hissed dramatically, rubbing the spot, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him. The teasing should've stopped there—should've stayed in that usual back-and-forth where you both knew the lines and how far to push. But something in his expression shifted. "I still don't get it," he murmured, the laughter dying down to a softer tone, his hand now gently pressing the spot you'd hit. "If you're into girls, then what does that make... this?"

For a moment, you didn't know how to answer. So many things about you didn't fit into the easy explanations people seemed to expect, and honestly, you never cared to try and fit them. "I don't know," you said at last, "I've hooked up with guys before, and it was never really a big deal. I always knew I liked girls more, but that never stopped me from doing stuff with boys when I felt like it." You shrugged, then leaned back a little, giving him space to process what you were about to say. "Sexuality is just a word people use to make sense of themselves. I might call myself bisexual—or gay—but honestly, it never fully explains what I want or how I feel. Labels don't always fit."

He looked at you then, and there was something quiet different in his eyes. It wasn't annoyance or mockery for once. You continued anyway, because you needed him to understand. "All I know is that I like doing things with you. Whether it's talking, teasing, sitting around doing nothing, or yeah... getting on my knees for you. It sounds messy, but it's the only thing I'm sure of."

That made his throat bob. His heartbeat, already unruly from earlier, thudded faster at your words, and he could feel the heat creeping into his face before he could stop it. He wanted to brush it off, wanted to say something sharp or stupid to deflect, but nothing came out.

He forced himself to roll his eyes and gave your shoulder another slap, more gentle this time. "Ewwww," he groaned with an exaggerated squeal, scrunching his nose. "It might be our routine, but could you not say that in my ear? It's still weird hearing you talk so casually about sucking me off!"

You only grinned wider, catching the flush starting to bloom across his cheeks. "What? Are you blushing?" you teased as you reached up and pinched his cheeks between your fingers, delighting in how quickly he tried to jerk away.

He groaned, then reached up to grab a fistful of your hair in retaliation. "You're so annoying," he muttered, tugging hard enough to make you yelp and try to push him off.

"Fuck!" you shrieked through laughter, smacking his arm and trying to wriggle away. But the tangled mess of limbs ended with both of you tipping sideways and falling back into the chair. He hit the floor and let out a long-suffering groan as you collapsed on top of him in a heap.

"Great," he muttered, pressing a hand to his lower back. "Now I'm going to fail my exam with spinal damage." You were still laughing, unbothered as you rested your chin on his chest. Even now, with your weight on top of him and your hair tickling his face, Sunoo couldn't bring himself to shove you off.

Instead, his eyes wandered to the ceiling, mind replaying the words you said earlier. Maybe you were right. Sexuality was just a word. A way to make sense of something that couldn't always be explained. And maybe the way he felt this complicated, frustrating, strangely comforting pull toward you wasn't something that needed a label at all.

"Get off. You're so fucking heavy," Sunoo hissed, snapping himself out of it as he tugged at your hair again, a little rougher this time. But deep down, buried under every eye roll and complaint, he enjoyed doing things with you, whether they were sexual or not. That part, at least, he could admit to himself. Maybe not out loud. Definitely not to you. He'd rather drop dead than say it out loud.

The favor you had asked was to practice your creative makeup on him, get his measurements, and use him as some sort of living mannequin for the designs you'd been working on. It sounded harmless enough when you first mentioned it, though the way you said it—bright-eyed, insistent, and practically buzzing with ideas—made it sound like you were dragging him into something bigger than he could imagine. He hadn't thought much of it back then, especially since hospital duties had swallowed him whole. The weeks stretched on, filled with endless shifts, late nights, and exhaustion so deep he barely had the energy to eat before collapsing into bed.

But still, in the middle of those long nights, he'd catch himself thinking of you. Of how irritating you could be, how you texted him nonsense memes at ungodly hours, how you spammed his phone like you had nothing better to do. He never admitted it, but the absence of your loud presence gnawed at him. The quiet felt heavier without you around to annoy him into feeling alive. That was what made him finally agree to see you again, even if it meant dragging his tired body to your apartment after his shift.

At the bus stop, Sunoo sat slumped beside Jungwon, eyelids heavy as the night air pressed around them. Jungwon let out a long groan, stretching his arms above his head. "Do you want to sleep over at my place instead? Later, I'll order Jollibee. Kinda been craving their spaghetti."

The offer was tempting—comfort food and a soft bed—but Sunoo only shook his head, his lips curving faintly as he pulled out his phone. "Maybe next time. Thanks for the offer, though. I've got some business to attend to."

"Business?" Jungwon repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. "At this hour?"

Sunoo didn't answer right away. His thumb scrolled down the flood of messages on his screen—your name glowing at the top of the chat. Rows of texts, some with too many exclamation marks, others filled with random pictures, all ridiculous enough to make his scrunched-up expression betray him with a small, undeniable smile. Jungwon noticed. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. "That's new," he muttered, side-eyeing. "So... where exactly are you going?"

"Just there," Sunoo replied vaguely, sliding his phone back into his bag before Jungwon could ask too much. And then, Sunoo leaned over and kissed Jungwon on the cheek, accompanied by a rare, boyish grin. "I'll get going now. Bye-bye!"

Jungwon froze, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief as he watched Sunoo walk away, his figure retreating down the street with a kind of restless energy. Jungwon's mouth fell open, his thoughts spinning in circles. He looked off to the side, considering whether to press or not, but in the end he only sighed and rolled his shoulders in resignation. "Huh. Weird," he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "But whatever."

When Sunoo finally stepped into your apartment, you didn't hold back. You practically launched yourself at him, arms flinging around his shoulders as though you had been waiting for this moment for weeks—which, in truth, you had. The sound of your laughter filled the air immediately, loud and full of the joy that spilled out of you so naturally.

Sunoo, on the other hand, reacted exactly the way he always did when you overwhelmed him with affection. His face scrunched into that familiar look of feigned annoyance as he huffed, one hand coming up to shove your face away. "Geez," he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile, "it's already ten in the evening and you're still bouncing around? Spare me, please." With a heavy sigh, he slipped his bag off his shoulder and tossed it onto the nearest chair. "I'm just going to change my clothes."

Your eyes widened immediately, and you froze mid-step. "Wait—does that mean you're going to sleep here?"

Sunoo rolled his eyes dramatically, as if the answer should have been obvious. "What? You really think I'd go home after letting you disturb me at this hour?" he said, his voice dry. He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around your apartment for the first time.

It was nothing like his own space. The moment his gaze swept over the room, he felt an odd tug in his chest. Guitars lined one wall, their strings gleaming faintly under the shifting glow of LED lights taped along the corners. The posters that filled your walls, mostly of metal bands he actually recognized—thanks to one of his friends who was just as obsessed with that scene as you seemed to be. There were canvases, too, half-finished and scattered against the sofa. The whole place felt alive, buzzing with your energy even when you weren't moving.

"Missed me?" you teased, leaning closer with a grin.

Sunoo didn't even spare you a proper glance. He rolled his eyes and shoved you lightly away, muttering under his breath as he dug into his bag. "As if. The only reason I even bothered coming here is because your annoying ass wouldn't leave me alone."

You watched him unzip his bag, pulling out a neatly folded set of clothes, and despite his flat expression you noticed the way his shoulders sagged, how exhaustion clung to every movement. He had been working himself to the bone, yet here he was, standing in your apartment at ten in the evening. That alone made your chest warm.

"God, I need to shower," he muttered, already moving toward the hallway without waiting for directions. He pushed open a random door, somehow guessing correctly that it was the bathroom, and slipped inside. The door shut firmly, leaving you behind in the living room with your laughter spilling out in echoes.

You padded after him without hesitation, knocking against the bathroom door with force. "Let me join!" you shouted through the wood.

From inside, there was a short pause, followed by the sound of the shower starting, and then his indignant yell. "Fuck you!"

You laughed so hard you had to lean against the wall for support, the sound echoing through your apartment. There was something deeply satisfying in knowing you could still pull that reaction from him even when he was drained from his long shift.

Sunoo ended up on your bed, sitting stiffly. His eyes moved slowly over your room, taking in the mess sprawl of your belongings. Clothes half-folded, books stacked unevenly, random brushes and palettes scattered across your desk. He bent down with a sigh, picking up a stray eyeliner pencil and a crumpled sheet of paper from the floor before dropping them on the bedside table. "Unbelievable," he muttered, glancing at you. "How do you even live like this?"

You ignored his complaint, too caught up in your own excitement. With the measuring tape in hand, you motioned for him to sit still. He shifted reluctantly, rolling his eyes but letting you circle around him, brushing against his shoulders and arms as you worked. You could feel the weight of his gaze following your movements even though he tried to pretend he wasn't paying attention.

"Our theme is under the sea," you began, your tone lively, words spilling out in a rush. "The makeup I have in mind isn't too heavy—it's soft, glowy, more like a douyin-inspired style, but with hints of shimmer, like reflections on water."

Sunoo raised a brow but said nothing, still trying to sit as if he wasn't secretly curious. "Wait, hold on." You darted to your desk, shoving aside piles of papers and empty cups, searching frantically until you found your sketchpad. The mess you made in the process only made him sigh louder, and when you finally returned, your arms were full of sheets, pencils, and smudged notes. You plopped beside him on the bed without an ounce of care, your hair brushing against his shoulder as you flipped the sketchpad open to the right page.

"Here, look!" you said eagerly, turning the pad so he could see. The drawing wasn't perfect, but it was vibrant, full of details—flowing lines like waves, soft glitter patterns around the eyes, hints of pearlescent tones. You leaned close enough that your knees brushed his, smiling up at him as if waiting for approval.

He glanced at the sketch, then at you, then back again. His face was blank, though his lips twitched as if fighting back a reaction. "You did all this just for practice?" he asked finally.

"Of course," you said without hesitation, tilting your head at him. "You're my muse tonight. Who else would I trust to pull this off?"

That word—muse—hung in the air between you. Sunoo blinked, looking away quickly, pretending to study the messy corner of your room instead. He scoffed under his breath, though his ears betrayed him with the faintest hint of red.

"Whatever, just do your job so I can sleep," he said, voice carrying that familiar sharpness. Still, he didn't shift away when you leaned in, didn't flinch when your hand brushed against his wrist as you measured, nor when you adjusted the tilt of his chin so you could see him better. He stayed still, letting you come closer.

If someone asked you at that moment how you felt, you would have answered easily—you were happy. Happy in a way that was simple yet overwhelming. Happy because lately, it felt like things were turning in your favor, even the little things. Happy because just yesterday you'd gotten a new tattoo for free. Happy because sitting here, in your messy room that never seemed good enough for guests, you had a boy in front of you who was almost too pretty to be real. A boy who had an attitude sharp enough to cut, but whose presence made you feel full.

You weren't known for being soft. People said you were rough around the edges, cunning, always quick with words that made others falter. But with him, it was different. You couldn't help yourself from speaking, from filling the silence with random stories, thoughts, jokes—anything. To most, your voice could be overwhelming, but Sunoo had already grown used to it.

"And Jake was also planning his first date to a hotpot—" you rambled on, your hand steady as you blended shimmer onto his eyelid.

Sunoo let out a heavy sigh, his lips parting slightly as he resisted the urge to open his eyes. He had been sitting there with his lids closed for what felt like an eternity, and still you weren't finished. "Do you ever shut up?" he muttered.

You grinned, your brush tracing along the curve of his brow bone as if you didn't hear the complaint. "Why would I? My voice keeps you awake."

"More like gives me a headache," he countered. You tilted his face to the side, carefully catching the light so you could see your work better. These were just trial runs, after all, and even though you hadn't used foundation or concealer—because his skin was already annoyingly perfect—you still wanted everything to look right. The green-brown lenses had shifted the color of his eyes into softer glow, and with the eyeshadow fanned out at the corners, it gave him a kind of effortless charm that made you pause. There was something about working on his face that always made you fall quiet for a second, like you were afraid any sudden movement might break the moment. His features, up close, were unfairly beautiful—the curve of his cheekbones, the sharp line of his jaw, the small, barely-there freckles you'd playfully added to give him a more sun-kissed look. Everything about him was pretty in a way that didn't feel delicate, but confident. His lips especially—plump, soft, and just slightly parted while he sat there with his eyes closed.

You turned, rummaging through your pile of lip tints and glosses until you found the shade that instantly reminded you of him. It was a sheer pink with a little bit of shimmer, and you already knew how good it would look. Without warning, you swung your leg over and settled onto his lap, grinning as you balanced your weight. The reaction was immediate—Sunoo's eyes snapped open, brows pulling together.

"Seriously?" he sighed, exasperated, but his hands came to your hips anyway, holding you steady so you wouldn't slip off the edge of the bed. "Are we done now?"

You tilted your head and gave a sheepish smile, not answering as you leaned in to carefully dab the gloss over his lips. The shape of his mouth, the way it gave the tiniest twitch when your finger brushed the edge—it made your pulse jump. You were so close now that his breath brushed against your cheek, and you had to focus hard not to let your hand shake. You wanted to kiss him. The urge sat so close to the surface that it made your chest feel tight, but you didn't. You just pulled back and admired the finished look with a soft exhale.

"Perfect," you whispered to yourself, more than him. You reached behind you and grabbed the mirror without moving from his lap. Sunoo rolled his eyes but took the mirror from your hand. You stayed right where you were, watching with quiet excitement as he looked at his reflection. There was silence at first. He tilted the mirror slightly, studying one angle, then another. He reached up to touch his hair, fixing a stray strand, then let his gaze drift toward his lips. His expression shifted slowly, quiet surprise then the corner of his mouth curled upward.

"Hmm, it doesn't look bad," he murmured.

Still straddling his lap, you leaned in closer until your face hovered just near the side of his neck, taking in the soft scent of his body wash still lingering from his shower. Your voice dropped as you murmured, "You look so much prettier than me."

Without missing a beat, Sunoo gave a soft scoff, his eyes still on his reflection. "Of course. I should be."

That earned a laugh from you. Typical Sunoo. You didn't stop yourself when you leaned forward and pressed your teeth lightly against his neck, a teasing little bite that made him flinch. Sunoo immediately pinched your waist, just hard enough to make you jolt. "Don't leave marks, I swear I'll kill you," he hissed, finally putting the mirror aside and turning to glare at you.

You only grinned wider, pressing closer until your hands slid up to frame his jaw and your nose brushed against his. "What if I want to leave marks?" you whispered.  "What if I want people to know you've been thoroughly used?"

He stared at you, deadpan, though the faintest flush started to bloom across his cheeks. "Used?" he echoed, blinking slowly.

You nodded, the tip of your tongue peeking out as you teased, "Yeah. Like a good little stress toy. I could sit on your face"

His jaw clenched in restraint. "You're disgusting," he muttered, but his hands never left your hips. In fact, they gripped a little tighter now.

"That's not a no," you said sweetly, letting your thumb trail along the curve of his throat. "You're holding me so well. Kinda makes me think you like this. You want me to keep going, Sunoo?"

He inhaled sharply and leaned back just slightly, giving himself space to think. The dim light of the room cast a soft glow across his cheekbones. The red LED strip near the ceiling bled into shadows, blending into the yellow hue of your little desk lamp, illuminating parts of your skin in warm patches. Your hair messily pinned up, strands falling out of your bun, wearing that worn-out Hello Kitty sando and those barely-there shorts. He swallowed hard.

And for a moment, he just stared. The edge of lust in his expression softened. The corner of his lip twitched like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. He was thinking, really thinking. and the thoughts weren't just about your lips or your thighs or the heat pooling between you. He was imagining your face twisted in pleasure, not because you were teasing or in control, but because he was the one making you fall apart. He wanted to see that. Wanted to own it.

His body betrayed him first. You both felt how hard he was getting beneath you, the tension radiating off him as you shifted on his lap and rolled your hips in a slow circle against his clothed cock. Your breath hitched as your core dragged over the growing bulge beneath his sweats, and you felt his fingers dig in harder.

Sunoo bit down on his bottom lip and didn't break eye contact. His voice came controlled, but his expression betrayed how much restraint it took. "Sit on my face, then."

Your entire body tensed. The shift was immediate. The teasing smirk that once played on your lips faltered. Your hips stopped moving, stilling right on top of him. You blinked, staring down at him, wide-eyed and visibly caught off guard. "H-huh?" you stammered, breath shallow.

His hand slid up beneath your sando, fingertips grazing over the soft skin of your waist, then higher toward your ribs, slow and unhurried as his gaze didn't flicker. "Sit on my face," he whispered again. "What's the matter? You seemed so eager earlier."

You could barely form a thought. Your pulse thundered in your ears, your breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a plea. "I was just joking," you mumbled, already shifting as if to climb off his lap, trying to dismiss the thought. "You don't have to. I mean—vaginal fluid doesn't even taste good..." You avoided his eyes, flustered and scrambling for your scattered makeup products, needing something to shift the atmosphere. But before your fingers could wrap around the nearest compact, Sunoo moved. He caught you by the wrist and pushed you back onto the bed in one quick motion. You let out a small, surprised squeal as your back hit the mattress.

His body hovered over yours, his knees pinning either side of your hips, eyes fixed on you. "I've let you get me off with your mouth more times than I can count," he said in annoyance. "And now you're acting like I don't get to touch you back?"

Your heart kicked harder in your chest, thudding against your ribs as you stared up at him. "I—" you started, but your voice came out small. "Sunoo, I didn't even shave..."

He didn't blink. He sat back just slightly, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts. "And?" he muttered, raising a brow as if that wasn't even a detail worth considering. When you moved to stop him, hands fluttering at his wrists, he caught one and pressed it into the mattress. His other hand cupped you through your panties, his palm fitting against the damp heat between your thighs.

Your breath hitched. Your back arched into his touch instinctively, and you saw the way his eyes darkened, how his lips parted ever so slightly. "You're soaked," he said, thumb pressing a little firmer.

You tried to deflect, though your voice wavered. "Do you even know what to do with it?" Your tone was teasing, but your body betrayed you—already trembling under his touch, heat pooling low in your stomach, breath quickening. You weren't expecting his answer.

"No," he said simply, like he wasn't embarrassed by it. Then his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, dragging the fabric down your thighs in one slow motion before tossing it somewhere across the room. "So teach me."

He slid a hand under your thigh, lifting and spreading your legs. Then he leaned down, his lips brushing soft kisses along your inner thigh slowly, all while keeping his eyes on you. The contact made your pussy flutter, a pulse of need tightening in your abdomen. Your breath hitched again, your hips twitching with anticipation. The sight of him makeup still intact from earlier, your lip gloss still lingering faintly on his mouth—made your body anticipate.

He dipped his head between your legs and dragged his tongue along your folds, one long, unhurried stroke from your entrance to your clit. The sensation made you jolt, the sudden wave of pleasure catching you off guard. "Fuck," you gasped, one hand flying to his hair, fingers curling in his soft strands.

Sunoo's tongue was slow at first, careful in a way that almost betrayed how new this was to him but he was quick to find what made you tremble. He closed his eyes, letting the taste of you settle on his tongue as he circled your clit with careful strokes before dragging his mouth lower to collect everything your body was offering. For a second, he could barely breathe.

So this is what pussy tastes like. That thought rang in his head, the warmth, the wetness, the way your whole body jerked when he hit the right spot—it was more than he imagined. He'd spent years scoffing at the way straight guys romanticized it, mocked their obsession, swore he'd never enjoy it. But fuck, now he understood why they bragged about it. Now he understood the hype.

His hands gripped your thighs as he dragged his tongue through your folds again, slower this time, savoring it. He moaned into you when he heard you whine his name, your voice shaky and breathless. The vibration of his voice against your pussy made your whole body twitch, and Sunoo's cock throbbed from the sound alone. If he wasn't already half-hard before, he was fully aching now, painfully so.

"S-Sunoo," you whimpered, hips lifting off the bed in a desperate rhythm that told him just how good he was doing. His mouth moved instinctively—less cautious now, more eager, more confident—as he pushed his tongue deeper, tasting you from your entrance all the way up, mouth hot and greedy. You were clenching around nothing, so tight and needy, and he wanted to bury his face even deeper, get drunk off you.

When your thighs began to tremble and squeeze around his ears, he didn't stop—instead, he pressed your legs apart with both hands, holding you open like a meal he wasn't finished with yet. Your slick coated his lips and chin, dripping down, and he didn't care. If anything, it made him hungrier. He licked through it all, mess and all, letting it smear over his tongue and down his throat as he sucked your clit hard, then softened his strokes just enough to tease again.

"Ahhh!" Your body writhed underneath him, moans louder, messier, fingers clawing at his hair. His nose bumped into your clit as he worked his tongue into you again, his face wet with your slick, breathing through his mouth as he chased the way you tasted.

His mind was spinning—nothing existed in that moment except your moans, the heat of your pussy, and the steady throb in his pants that begged for release. And when you cried out his name again, legs shaking harder, nails digging into his scalp as your hips rocked into his face, Sunoo moaned so loud it vibrated against your cunt, eyes rolling back as he thought—fuck, he could come from just this.

Sunoo's hips were already grinding against the mattress, his clothed cock rutting helplessly into the sheets as he kept his mouth buried between your legs, tongue swirling slow, then fast, then slow again as he tested how you reacted to every flick and drag. But it was your clit that made him obsessed, the way it throbbed, the way you twitched whenever he sucked it, the way you squealed when he circled it just right. He focused there now, licking harder, more deliberate, tasting every ounce of you like he was making up for all the time he'd dismissed ever wanting this.

This wasn't just payback for all the times you teased him, for every shameless comment or cocky flirt that came from your mouth. No, this was Sunoo owning you. Silencing you. Making you feel exactly what you put him through—restless, aching, desperate.

Your moans started to rise uncontrollably, your voice shaky, your fingers now tangled tightly in his hair as your hips rolled in sync with the rhythm of his tongue. "Wait! Fuck!" you gasped, thighs twitching as your climax built hard and fast, threatening to snap. But Sunoo didn't let up, if anything, he gripped your legs tighter, keeping them wide open, anchoring you in place so you couldn't run from it.

He looked up at you, flushed and wrecked, your eyes squeezed shut in overwhelmed pleasure, lips parted as your body trembled. His cock throbbed painfully from just the sight, and his tongue moved faster, dragging flat and then curling upward to suck your clit hard before flicking again.

When you came, it hit like a wave crashing through your entire body, your back arched off the mattress, mouth open in a cry you barely recognized, legs shaking hard in his hold. Your breathing turned ragged, stuttering as the orgasm took over, intense and blinding.

But Sunoo didn't stop. He lapped through it, almost like he was trying to drag more out of you, milking the high as long as he could. His mouth was soaked, face buried so deep you had to push at his head with trembling hands, voice breaking as you choked out, "Too much—fuck, I can't—"

He let you go, finally, pulling back with a smile. His lips glistened with your cum, cheeks flushed, and his hair was a mess from your grip but those green contacts made his eyes look almost unreal in the soft red light. And god, the makeup you'd done earlier was perfect. Smudged only a little at the corner of his lids, giving him an edgier look that made your cunt clench again.

Sunoo was pretty. Too pretty. Pretty enough to ruin you without even trying. What made it worse—or better, depending how fucked up your brain was—was the way his tongue slowly dragged along his bottom lip, catching the last traces of you. "How was it?" he asked, tilting his head to seek of your approval.

You couldn't even answer at first. Your legs were still trembling, thighs sticky and wet, your heartbeat thudding too loud in your ears to think straight. You swallowed, chest rising and falling fast as you tried to catch your breath. Then you looked at him again—at the shine on his mouth, the hunger still flickering behind those pretty green eyes, the way he sat back slightly.

"Not that bad," you breathed out, voice shaky as your trembling legs bent down and your fingers slowly pressed against the hard outline of his cock through the soft fabric of his sweats. You didn't even try to hide how your hand lingered, almost testing him—your palm flat, applying a bit of pressure. Sunoo raised his brow at your answer but you didn't meet it. You were too busy fighting off the embarrassment clawing at your chest from the way you moved so eagerly, so unlike how you usually carry yourself.

"Down to fuck?" you asked, forcing a playful smirk as you tilted your head, though your voice cracked slightly at the end and your legs still hadn't stopped trembling. The moment you saw the way he blinked at you, you almost backtracked, your lips parting, about to laugh it off like you were only playing.

But then Sunoo was already pulling down his sweats. His cock sprang free, hard and flushed and angry-looking, the head pink and glistening, practically pulsing with tension. You stared. Your mouth went dry. Then wet. You swallowed thickly, clenching your thighs, heat crawling under your skin and settling low in your stomach. There was no hesitation in him now, no teasing smile, just hunger written across his face as he sat back on his heels. His hand wrapped around himself, stroking slowly as he watched the way your breath caught. You didn't even try to hide your stare.

Your mouth went dry, your legs pressing together out of reflex, and you could feel your whole body heat at the sight of him. He looked desperate, flushed, needy, barely holding himself back. "W-Wait," you blurted, hand reaching out like you meant to stop him, even though your body clearly didn't agree. Your pulse was racing, and your thoughts were already spiraling, too many emotions crashing into each other all at once—desire, fear, anticipation.

Sunoo let out a rough sigh, dragging his eyes up to your face. His brows furrowed and his lips parted like he was going to say something else, but then his jaw clenched tight. You could see the frustration in his eyes. "What more do you need?" he asked, voice low and strained. "Do you want me or not?"

You swallowed hard, because the truth was yes, more than you'd ever expected to. But something about how exposed both of you were now made it suddenly harder to breathe. "I just..." you began, "I don't want to ruin this. You've never done this before and I—what if it's too much?" It was fear—real and sudden fear. The weight of what you were about to do had finally caught up, hitting somewhere deep in your chest. This wasn't just another messy hookup. Not with him.

Sunoo stared at you in silence. You could see the flicker in his eyes, between disbelief and restrained annoyance. He almost looked like he was about to roll his eyes and shove you back down onto the mattress with that sharp tongue of his, throwing some cutting comment about how ridiculous this was when you were both already naked, your legs trembling and his cock painfully hard between them. But he didn't. Instead, he took a breath, he reached out, fingers brushing gently against the inside of your knee. You felt the warmth of his palm slide up your thigh until it rested there. "It's already too much," he said. "It's been too much since the first time you kissed me."

You swallowed hard as you sat still beneath his touch. Then his hand slid a little higher, his thumb brushing softly against the crease where your thigh met your hip. "So..." he tilted his head, the corners of his lips twitching into a slight smirk that couldn't hide the heat still simmering in his eyes. "Are we gonna fuck or not?"

You let out a shaky breath, laughing despite yourself. You leaned in, pressing your mouth to his jaw, feeling the slight tremble in his skin. Your hand slid down between you, curling around the base of his cock, hot and twitching in your grip. His breath stuttered, hips jerking slightly. You looked up at him, lips brushing his cheekbone as you whispered, "Lay back for me. Let me take care of you first."

Sunoo obeyed without a word, his body moving almost too quickly. He leaned back against the headboard, chest rising fast, lips parted as he tried to steady his breath. You saw the way his cock twitched in anticipation, pre-cum glistening at the tip, practically begging for friction.

You pulled your sando off, discarding it somewhere off the bed. The bra came next, your bare form revealed under the room's dim lighting. You weren't shy—at least you tried not to be—but you were aware of the way Sunoo's eyes darkened the moment he saw you fully.

Sunoo stopped breathing altogether. His lips parted slightly, stunned, staring at the shape of you, the ink on your skin, the curve of your breasts, and the subtle shimmer of sweat from earlier. Everything about you was too much. Too fucking beautiful.

You straddled him slowly, settling over his thighs as you reached toward your drawer and took out a condom. Sunoo's eyes didn't leave yours, not even when you tore the packet open and rolled it down the length of his cock with deliberate care. His head fell back against the pillows as he let out a groan, hips twitching up into your hand.

"Fuck," he groaned, hips bucking just slightly into your hand. His cock throbbed under your touch, hard and leaking. He couldn't believe how sensitive he was. How badly he wanted this.

You smirked at the sound, giving him a slow stroke just to see him twitch again. "First time?" you teased. "You better tell me later what's better—dick or pussy."

He let out a breathless laugh, but didn't answer. Not when you were already lifting your hips and guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance. That wiped the grin from both your faces.

As he breached you slowly, you gritted your teeth, trying to hide the way your body resisted the stretch. Your hands pressed against his chest for support, and you felt his hands move instinctively to your hips, holding you steady but not forcing anything. His grip was trembling. So were your thighs. You widened your legs as best as you could, adjusting inch by inch, trying to take him fully without showing how much it burned on the way in. You tried to play it off—tried to look confident even when your face couldn't hide the pinch of discomfort.

The truth was, you didn't have a lot of experience with men. Maybe just one, and that didn't really count. It was fast, fumbling, and forgettable. You'd never ridden anyone before. You knew how to move your hips with girls—scissoring, grinding, finding the angles—but this was different. This was slower, deeper, stretching you in ways you hadn't prepared for. You didn't want to look clueless. You didn't want to ruin the moment.

Still, you refused to back down. You braced yourself, breathing through your nose, trying to remember every move you'd given and received, every grind and swivel you'd learned with women—just enough to give yourself rhythm. You focused on how wet you were and how turned on he clearly was, Sunoo gasped beneath you, both hands tightening on your waist like he was afraid he'd lose himself the second you sank further.

"Fuck—" he choked, voice cracking. "You're so—tight. Oh my god—don't move yet—just—fuck—"

His head tilted back, lips parted in a perfect 'O' as he moaned, eyes squeezed shut. His reaction made something clench in your chest and between your legs, but you held still, letting yourself adjust, letting him calm down before either of you pushed too far too fast.

You looked down at him, sweat already starting to gather at his temples, and leaned over just enough to press your forehead to his.

You finally managed to sink down all the way, and the stretch was so intense it knocked the air out of your lungs. Your mouth fell open in a breathless moan, your walls clenching tight around him, struggling to adjust. The pain hadn't completely faded, but it was being overtaken by a creeping pleasure that curled low in your belly. Still, your legs were shaking violently beneath you, the burn in your thighs making it impossible to lift yourself.

Sunoo blinked up at you, concern slipping into his dazed expression as his hands rubbed your waist slowly, gently. His fingers were trying to soothe you, but he could feel the tremble beneath your skin, could see the panic flicker in your eyes. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

You couldn't answer right away. You pressed your face into the curve of his neck, hiding the stutter in your breath as your hands gripped his shoulders. You nodded, though it was shaky. "I'm fine," you said but it came out weak, and the moment you tried to lift yourself, your legs gave out again. You choked out a sound, "just... g-give me a minute."

Sunoo stiffened underneath you when he felt the hot tear that rolled down onto his skin. His brows furrowed as he turned his head slightly, lips brushing your temple. He almost felt bad, guilty to be exact. He knew what that stretch felt like, that burn of being too full, and for a second, he almost paused. Almost. But then you clenched around him again, and it told him everything he needed to know.

"You're such a liar," he breathed out, a soft laugh slipping past his lips. "All that talk... and look at you now."

You didn't respond—just let out another breathy moan, face still tucked into his neck, skin hot with embarrassment. He could feel how tight you were, feel how you clenched around him every time he moved even the slightest. Without warning, he planted both feet flat on the mattress and thrust upward, driving himself deeper inside you. Your entire body jolted, and the moan that tore out of your throat was loud and desperate. He clenched his jaw at the sound of it, biting back his own curse.

You tightened around him, body clenching in response, and his hips bucked again, this time slower, more deliberate. His mouth moved to your ear, breath ghosting over the sensitive skin there as you trembled in his hold. "Let me take over," he whispered. His arms wrapped around your waist, locking you in place, and his hips moved again—shallow but deep, fucking into you from below.

You both moaned out loud. It was past one in the morning and the silence outside made it worse, like every sound would carry past the walls, but Sunoo didn't seem to care. His rhythm picked up, hips snapping against yours with rising urgency, chasing the high he'd only ever imagined.

His thrust hit that perfect spot inside you and your whole body arched, a sharp cry ripping from your throat. Your hands fumbled to hold onto something—his arms, the sheets, your own sanity—but it was already slipping.

Sunoo didn't pause, didn't even look apologetic as he murmured, "Fuck, that's it," like he'd just discovered your weakness. Your pussy was gripping him so tight he could barely move, but that only drove him further. The struggle made it more satisfying.

And then, he pulled out. You barely had time to protest when he shifted your position, guiding you back onto the bed with your legs spread wide. He stared, breathing hard, hands trailing down your thighs before his fingers spread your folds gently. He took a second just to look at you, to admire how wet and swollen you were for him, how much you wanted it. Then, with two fingers, he circled your clit—light, teasing touches that made your hips jerk and your legs try to close on instinct.

So this is why tops get cocky, he thought, watching the way your eyes fluttered, the way your lips fell open in a silent moan. This is why they hold someone down, grip their legs, call them pretty, beg them to take more. He could feel the power of every thrust, feel the way your body reacted. He never understood it before. He always thought tops just liked being in charge, that they were addicted to control—but it wasn't just about that.

"You always run your mouth," he muttered, watching your body twitch with every motion. "But where's all that attitude now?"

He caught your leg, draping one over his shoulder as he lined himself up again. The stretch was immediate, deeper now in this new position, and he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, dragging his cock along your walls until the tip pressed against the spot that made your back arch on reflex.

"You always talk too much," he muttered, groaning at the way you clenched again. "Guess my dick's the one to shut you up."

You sobbed harder, face turning to the side as your hands gripped the sheets. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, tears streaking your cheeks as you moaned his name. "P-please, Sunoo."

Sunoo's stomach tightened at the sound. He threw his head back, letting out a moan that was nearly a growl. His grip tightened on your thighs before he grabbed both, pushing your knees up beside your head as he leaned in close. His arms braced on either side of you, the shift pressing you into the mattress, trapping you with his weight.

Then, he pulled almost all the way out, letting you feel every inch slip from your body before slamming back in with a force that made your eyes roll back. The bed creaked beneath you, the room filled with the slick, wet sound of skin on skin.

"Fuck!" you screamed, arching harder beneath him, your voice cracking on the edge of a sob. Without a second thought, he dropped his hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing fast, precise circles. "G-gonna cum, wait! Wait, wait, wait—"  your voice dissolving into a high-pitched wail, so loud and unfiltered that Sunoo instinctively leaned down to kiss you, swallowing the sound against your lips.

The moment his mouth covered yours, your walls spasmed around him, tight and wet and so hot that he couldn't think. Your climax hit, your hips jerking uncontrollably as your pussy clenched around him over and over, fluttering in a rhythm that made his own control snap completely.

Sunoo moaned against your mouth, almost choking on it, his own breath ragged as he held still for a heartbeat but your body pulled it out of him. He couldn't stop moving, not when it felt like this. He gripped your waist tight and kept thrusting, shallow and fast, keeping the head of his cock angled against the soft, spongy spot inside you. He wanted to feel all of it, ride it out, draw it out until you were crying again.

Your legs shook violently as you clung to him, your mouth parting beneath his kiss in gasping, sobbing breaths. You didn't even care that you were a mess now, sweat-slicked, trembling, lips swollen from kissing and crying. You couldn't stop clenching around him, couldn't stop shaking from how intense it was.

And Sunoo, he'd never felt anything like it. That pressure, the way you pulsed around him, the wet squeeze of your walls, the heat, the smell of sweat and sex, the muffled sobs against his mouth—it was too much. He buried his face in your neck as his hips stuttered once, then twice more, before he groaned loud, biting down on a moan that still escaped him in a rush.

"Shit! Ah! Fuck, fuck fuck." He came hard, harder than he ever remembered. His body curled over yours as the orgasm crashed through him, his muscles locking up, breath ragged as his cock twitched deep inside the condom. The sound he made was almost a sob of his own because the moment you clenched around him like that, it was over. He had no chance.

He stayed inside you, breathing hard against your collarbone, trying to get control of his heartbeat. His arms wrapped tighter around your waist, holding you close. You blinked up at the ceiling, dazed, chest rising and falling in erratic waves. Sunoo pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing hair out of your face with one trembling hand.

"One more?" you asked, voice still breathy as you gave him a weak smile, your lashes still wet with the remnants of your tears. There was a glow in your face from that dazed, post-orgasmic haze.

Sunoo let out a scoff, tossing his head to the side. "My legs feel like noodles. Leave me alone." He covered his eyes with one arm.

You let out a small laugh, too drained to do more than let your body sink deeper into the sheets. You didn't push back with another tease. Sunoo sighed as he finally peeled himself off the bed. He removed the condom carefully, tying it off and tossing it into the trash. His limbs felt too light, a little shaky, and for a second he just stood there, catching his breath with a hand braced against the edge of the drawer.

Most of his exes never really gave a shit after sex. They'd turn their backs, light a cigarette, or scroll through their phones. And Sunoo hated that—hated how cold it used to make him feel, even if he pretended it didn't. He wasn't about to become that kind of person, no matter what this thing was between you two. No matter how casual you both claimed it was. So he pulled on his briefs and then his sweatpants, still trying to recover as he looked at your spent body lying there, eyes fluttering closed, chest flushed and rising slowly. You weren't asleep yet, but you looked like you could drift off at any second.

"Don't pass out on me," he muttered under his breath as he leaned down, arms sliding under your knees and back. His muscles protested immediately. "Shit—what are you eating?" he groaned as he lifted you, stumbling a little. "Why are you so heavy? Fuck, my back hurts."

Your laugh came out as a soft wheeze, your head dropping onto his shoulder. "You're so sweet," you mumbled, not even bothering to open your eyes.

Sunoo let out a sharp, incredulous sound as he adjusted his grip on you. "Sweet?" he scoffed. "Bitch, I'm carrying you to the bathroom so you don't get a UTI. That's not sweet, that's basic sexual hygiene."

You didn't even have the energy to be embarrassed, just groaned and buried your face deeper into the crook of his neck as he trudged down the hall. "Still sweet," you mumbled against his skin, barely audible.

After that night, you truly believed something had shifted between the two of you. And if anyone asked how you felt, you'd say the same thing every time: you were happy. Deeply, undeniably happy.

4 Months Later.

"Ah! Harder!F-fuck, Sunoo!"

Your voice cracked as Sunoo pressed a firm hand against the small of your back, forcing your hips higher while his other hand anchored tight around your waist. He dug his nails into your skin without realizing, the sting only mixing into the heat already flooding your body. His pace grew rougher, steady and merciless, and when your moans pitched too high, he slid his palm up to the back of your neck, pinning your face into the mattress to muffle the sounds.

Sunoo's eyes dropped, gaze fixed on the red lilies etched into your lower back. The ink bloomed outward in delicate, mirrored curves, the lines dark against your sweat-slick skin. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he had become addicted to this view. From behind, with your ass high and that tattoo staring back at him, he always came harder than he thought possible. He'd never say it aloud, of course—he'd just brush it off with some offhand jab about your face being annoying. But deep down, he knew the truth: doggy had become his favorite position because it gave him this sight, this control, and it drove him insane.

His thrusts grew uneven, his groans breaking apart as his orgasm built and finally tore through him. A strangled moan left his lips as he spilled into the condom, his hips stuttering before he slowed to a stop. Breathing harshly, he carefully pulled out, muscles trembling.

He tied off the condom and tossed it into the trash, staring at the small pile already gathering there. "Fuck," he muttered, dragging a hand through his damp hair. "We should've stopped after the third round. My head feels groggy every time and I still have duty tomorrow."

You collapsed forward onto the bed. "You're the one who kept asking for more," you teased, voice hoarse but playful as you reached for the drawer by your side. You pulled it open and slid your fingers around the familiar box of cigarettes, only to flinch when Sunoo's hand smacked yours away with no hesitation.

"No cigarettes while I'm here," he snapped, eyes narrowing as he shoved the box back into the drawer and slammed it shut.

You turned your head lazily to glare at him, lips jutting into a pout. "Come on, I always smoke outside. Just one, it won't kill me."

Sunoo rolled his eyes and flopped down beside you, his arm heavy as it landed across your waist. "Yeah, and you'll say the same thing tomorrow, and the next day, and then you'll be coughing your lungs out when you're thirty. No thanks, I'm not kissing an ashtray." He buried his face briefly against your shoulder, breathing in your scent, before pulling back with a huff.

You stared at Sunoo for a moment, your palm brushing over his damp hair as you gently pushed it back from his forehead, fingertips catching against the fine strands still slick with sweat. His skin was flushed, chest rising and falling in steady breaths, the aftermath of exhaustion softening his features in a way you rarely got to see. He let out a low sigh at the touch, his eyes fluttering closed just for a second before he opened them again, blinking up at you like he didn't want to move. "Come on," he murmured, "let's take a shower and sleep already. I'm leaving at six-thirty."

You nodded, smiling as you leaned down to nuzzle your nose against his cheek. Your legs slipped around his waist without needing to be asked, body folding into him easily. Without a word, Sunoo shifted and lifted you up, muttering something under his breath about how clingy you were.

It wasn't often he had time like this. With his final year piling up and hospital internships consuming his days, Sunoo was constantly in motion, constantly drained. But when he made space for you, it was always in small, quiet ways—sitting still long enough for you to do his makeup, letting you slip him into the clothes you had designed, experimenting with textures and colors against his skin. He'd roll his eyes, complain about the shimmer on his cheeks or how ridiculous he looked, but he never told you to stop. And more often than not, those moments ended the same way—clothes discarded, skin pressed together, his sharp tongue replaced by soft moans. Always sex.

By morning, you usually woke up first. You'd reach for him half-asleep, sometimes without even meaning to, and he'd let it happen—sleepy eyes cracking open as he let you ride him or even give him a morning blowjob.

He told you to keep things quiet, especially when it came to Jake. Around other people, you played your part, but your restraint never lasted long. When the three of you were together, you couldn't help but lean too close to Sunoo, let your fingers graze over his hand or your palm rest lightly on his thigh. He'd shoot you that withering look, roll his eyes and he'd always yank your hair or slap your hand away.

You yawned as you bent over to pour cat food into Luna's bowl, the dry sound of the kibble clinking against ceramic echoing through the quiet. Your cat was rarely ever home, she rubbed against your ankle before settling to eat, her sleek black fur rising and falling with every breath.

Behind you, Sunoo stepped out from the bathroom, towel draped around his neck, still drying his hair. He passed by silently, stooping to give Luna a little scratch behind the ear before wandering around your room to gather his things. "I ironed your scrubs already," you said, yawning mid-sentence, arms stretching overhead as you turned to face him. "Your bag's on the table."

He paused mid-motion, glancing at you. You weren't the type to hover or fuss over anyone, but with him, it was different. You'd stopped staying at his place, mostly because you knew how little sleep he got. You didn't want to disrupt the hours of rest he did manage to find. So instead, you made sure that whenever he came over, everything he'd need by morning was already in place. Scrubs clean and folded. Bag packed. Sometimes even the lunch you'd made slipped quietly into his bag.

"I bought an energy drink yesterday," you mumbled, already at the fridge, grabbing out a pack of three. "Bring one for your friend. Sungwon, right?"

Sunoo scoffed, eyes narrowing in exaggerated offense. "His name is Jungwon. You've met him—don't act fake now."

You grinned as you handed him the cans, laughing softly as he leaned in and kissed your temple. "Thanks, girl," he muttered against your skin, then he pulled back slightly, still toweling off his damp hair, and gave you a small smirk. "Can you dry my hair and slick it back for me?"

You blinked, a little taken aback. Usually, Sunoo did things on his own, and even when he didn't, he rarely asked for help like this. You nodded without thinking, already reaching for your comb. "Yeah. Sit down," you said gently. "I'll make you look hot so Jungwon doesn't think you crawled out of bed with someone."

"I did crawl out of bed with someone," he quipped back, dropping onto the edge of your bed as you moved behind him, towel still around his shoulders.

You smiled to yourself as you began combing through the strands, towel-drying with care. "Yeah, but no one needs to know she's me."

Sunoo didn't say anything back. His eyes were on his phone, scrolling through whatever filled his morning—probably messages from classmates, schedules, maybe even memes. You didn't ask. You just stood behind him, carefully guiding his hair into a clean, slicked-back style that you knew he preferred when he was headed out for his hospital duty.

The peace felt normal, but something about it pressed against your chest. Still, you stayed silent as he finally set his phone down on the table with a soft clatter and picked up his makeup pouch, moving with ease as he dabbed on light concealer and patted a cushion over his skin. When you finished, you lingered for a moment. Then, without thinking, you leaned forward, wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He groaned in that exaggerated, irritated way he always did when you got too clingy but he didn't push you away.

"I'm just happy," you murmured against his skin in a smile as your cheek rested against his. He didn't respond. Just rolled his eyes and reached for his lip balm, uncapping it with one hand. And even though he didn't say anything, you still held on for a second longer, memorizing how he felt beneath your arms.

Another week passed, and the days slipped by faster than you expected. Between classes, looming project deadlines, and juggling your part-time job, your schedule blurred but you never forgot to check in with Sunoo. You messaged him like always, updates about your day, stupid memes, or little notes like "Don't skip meals." His replies were dry, short, sometimes just an emoji or a thumbs up. But you clung to them anyway.

You were in your living room when Jay flopped down onto your couch, letting out a breath. Your electric guitar rested on your lap, fingers absentmindedly plucking at the strings, trying to memorize the fretwork. "Sunghoon's been asking about you again," Jay said, casually scrolling through his phone. "So, what do you wanna play for the university event this week? You're singing, so it's your call."

You adjusted the tuning pegs, focused on the strings. "Tell Sunghoon I'm not interested," you muttered without looking up. "What about Supermassive Black Hole?"

Jay raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? That's a hard pick. You really think you can handle both vocals and electric?"

You shrugged, chin tilted slightly as your fingers slid back into place on the neck of the guitar. "I've done harder."

Practice didn't go as smoothly as you wanted. Your mind wandered more than it should have, eyes flicking to your phone every other minute. Jay tried to stay patient, but the third time you missed your cue, he slammed his palm lightly against the back of the couch.

"Can you focus, please? You're the one who wanted this song," he said. "We barely even see you these days."

Kai, sitting behind the drum kit, tossed his sticks onto the floor with a sigh. "You keep zoning out. It's starting to get annoying."

You didn't even defend yourself. Because in that moment, your phone vibrated and your heart jumped. Sunoo was calling! You nearly knocked your guitar off your lap as you scrambled to answer, pressing the phone to your ear before the first ring ended. "Hello!" you said, voice too eager and too bright. It was the first time Sunoo had ever called you.

Kai made a face, motioning to Jay to take over. You turned away, trying to keep your voice low, your heart pounding.

On the other end, Sunoo didn't even greet you. His tone was flat, a little rushed. "I left my record book at your place. Can you get it for me?"

You blinked, straightening a little. "Oh—yeah, okay. Where are you now?"

"I'm on duty," he said, barely giving you time to respond. "At the hospital. Can you make it quick?"

There was no softness in his voice, no hint that he missed you or even cared that you answered. He just sounded tired, and you understand it since being in a healthcare is not a joke. You looked over your shoulder at your bandmates. Jay met your eyes but didn't say anything, just waved you off. "Yeah, okay. I'll head over now," you said quietly, gripping the phone tighter.

"Thanks," was all he said before the line went dead. You didn't waste time. Back in your room, you found his record book tucked between his internship folders and some folded clothes he had left the last time he stayed over. The edges were a little bent from being stuffed into your shelf, and you smoothed them gently with your palm before grabbing your helmet.

Jay's voice followed you from the couch as he sat up, confused. "Where the hell are you going?"

"Something important," you answered quickly, pulling your jacket on. "I'll be back later. Just need to drop this off."

Kai muttered something under his breath, likely a curse about your priorities, but you didn't stop to listen. You slipped out the door and rode your motorbike across town like muscle memory guided your body, even if your mind was still stuck on the way Sunoo sounded.

When you pulled in on the parking lot, the first thing you saw was him. He was leaning against a pale concrete wall near the entrance, half in shadow. Even from a distance, he looked worn down to the bone. His scrubs hung slightly loose on his frame, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were stark against the paleness of his skin. He wasn't even looking at his phone, just staring off, hands limp at his sides.

Your steps were careful as you approached, "Sunoo..." His head turned, eyes sluggish to find you. You stopped in front of him and took a breath, holding the record book out with one hand, the other brushing lightly against his forearm. "Are you okay, baby?" The nickname slipped out unconsciously, concern laced around the softness in your voice.

"I'm fine." He reached out and took the record book from your hand without looking you in the eye. "Just... duty being toxic."

You nodded, swallowing down the worry bubbling up your throat. "Have you eaten yet? You look—Sunoo, you look really out of it." You stepped closer, trying to meet his gaze. "Can I bring you something? Coffee? Bread? I'll wait for you until you're off."

His lips tightened, jaw locking like he was holding something back, but you continued. "What about we go to the—"

"God, can you just stop?" he snapped suddenly, voice louder than it should have been. You flinched. He immediately looked away, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. "I don't want any of that shit. I just needed the damn book."

You blinked, stunned for a second. Not because it hurt—though it did—but because it was the first time he'd ever raised his voice at you like that. Your fingers curled tightly around the edge of your jacket as you tried to steady your breathing. "I know," you said quietly, forcing your voice to stay even, "but you sounded upset. And I was worried."

Sunoo didn't answer right away. He just stood there, shoulders rising and falling as he breathed through whatever storm he was holding inside. "Look," he said, voice lower but still strained. "I just need to get through today. I don't have time for anything else right now."

You nodded slowly, though your chest tightened at the way he phrased it. Anything else. That included you. You took a small step back, out of understanding, even if it stung.

"I'll go," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just... take care of yourself, okay?"

He didn't respond. Just turned and walked back toward the sliding doors of the hospital, the record book clutched in his hand.

You've been meaning to apologize to Sunoo ever since that day, but every time you thought of dialing his number or dropping a message, you paused. He was under so much pressure already, barely sleeping between hospital shifts and classes, and you didn't want to be another thing that made his chest feel heavy.

You sat alone at the campus cafeteria, your fingers working over the delicate rows of yarn as you crocheted slowly, the hook moving again and again. A small collection of handmade tulips lay across the table in a neat cluster—pinks, reds, a few white ones that hadn't taken shape yet. Your brows were furrowed, not from the difficulty of the pattern, but from the thoughts you couldn't seem to untangle from your mind.

"You've been zoning out a lot," Sunghoon's voice cut through the silence. He slid into the seat across from you, his tray untouched. "Jay said he's one tantrum away from kicking you out of the band."

"I'm not zoning out," you answered without looking up, looping the yarn again. "I've just been doing something more important."

Sunghoon leaned in, resting his elbows on the table as his eyes scanned the colorful flowers in front of you. "These commissions? I thought you stopped doing them."

You didn't respond, the sound of yarn slipping through your fingers filling the silence instead. He watched you for another moment before asking, "Are you seeing someone?"

Your hands faltered slightly, just for a second, then picked up again as if nothing had happened. "No," you said quietly, eyes fixed on the work. "It's for a friend."

Sunghoon gave a soft hum, like he didn't believe you but wasn't going to press. "You know I've liked you for a while, right? Since high school."

You finally looked up, just enough to meet his gaze for a brief second before dropping your eyes again. "Sunghoon, I don't have the energy for one of your talks right now."

"I'm not here to make a scene," he said, more gently this time. "I just... I know how you are when you start liking someone. You act like you're fine, like everything's under control, but you start giving too much of yourself without realizing it."

Your jaw tensed, fingers tightening slightly around the hook. "You let your guard down," he continued. "And you start doing all these little things—waiting around, making things for them, dropping everything just to show up. Even when they stop treating you the same way, you keep giving."

"Sunghoon, stop," you muttered.

"I'm not judging you," he said, watching the way your hands moved a little slower. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again."

You didn't bother to look at him. The words weren't new. You shoved the last tulip into the paper bag and stood from your seat, brushing your hands on your jeans as if to shake the weight off. "It's none of your business," you said. "I do what I want to do." You left before he could answer.

Lately, everything felt like a blur. The hospital was suffocating, patients piling up, charts demanding constant attention, the head nurse always finding something to criticize. Sunoo hadn't slept in two days, and even when he did manage to collapse onto his mattress, his chest stayed tight. There wasn't room for anything else. Not for laughter, not for texting back, not even for eating. And eventually, not even for you. He didn't realize how much time had passed since he last answered your messages. He hadn't even opened them. He kept telling himself he would later, when his head wasn't pounding, when he could at least form a sentence that didn't sound like a sigh. But later kept moving farther away.

So when he opened his apartment door and saw you standing there at 9 PM, hands clutching a paper bag with that small, nervous look on your face—he froze. "S-sorry," you muttered, voice soft. "I will not disturb you, just rest. I-I just need to drop this, and wish it make you feel better."

He blinked. Then looked at the bag. Then at you again. He didn't think. He stepped forward and pulled you into his arms before you could even take a step back. The paper crinkled between you, but he didn't care. The second he buried his face into your neck, something in him cracked. A quiet sob escaped before he could hold it in, his hands shaking slightly against your back.

He couldn't remember the last time someone had brought him anything without asking for something in return. "I've never received any flowers," he mumbled. "No one's ever given me anything like this."

You didn't say anything, but your hand was there. The warmth of your touch made his chest ache in a different way. "I'm sorry for being an asshole," he whispered, breathing in your scent, a small comfort in the chaos of his days. "I didn't mean to push you away. I just—everything's been too much."

"I know," you murmured, your chin resting on his shoulder. "It's okay. You don't have to explain."

But he wanted to. You didn't deserve silence. You didn't deserve to be left hanging, wondering if he even cared. He just couldn't bring himself to say it all, but not now, not while his throat was tight and his eyes were stinging and your arms were the first place he felt human all week. "I should've answered. I just... didn't have the energy."

You didn't move away. You didn't scold him. You didn't ask for anything. You just stayed. He pulled back slightly, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, trying to look somewhat composed. "Do you want to stay? Just for a bit?"

You nodded without hesitation, and the two of you ended up in his room, laughing your ass out.

He let out another burst of laugh as he leaned over to look at your tablet. "What even is that supposed to be?"

"Wait, I drew you!" you blurted out, your finger swiping across the screen excitedly. You tapped on a picture and turned it to show him—the chibi version of him with devil horns, an exaggerated pout, and glitter under the eyes.

Sunoo squinted, then narrowed his eyes dramatically. "You little shit," he muttered, before slapping your shoulder.

You shifted without thinking, climbing into his lap, your back settling against his chest as you held the tablet up between you. His arms wrapped around your waist loosely, his chin resting over your shoulder

"Wait, you drew this one too?" Sunoo's voice pulled you from the moment. He pointed at a little sticker design on your tablet—a black cat holding a cigarette between its tiny fingers. "I bought this! From the Art Museum's student booth a few months ago. I stuck it on my old clipboard."

You turned your head slightly to meet his stare. "Are you serious? That was my booth. That's literally my design!"

Sunoo's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "What the hell? Why weren't you guarding your own booth?! You're such a bad artist!"

You scoffed, turning to half-face him, "Excuse me, I had a nicotine addiction to maintain. I took a break."

He groaned. "Turns out it was you sneaking off to light up under a 'No Smoking' sign."

"You bought my sticker and called me a bitch. How dare you insult me and support me at the same time?"

"I didn't know it was you!" he defended, laughing again. "But honestly, you deserved it. I hate people who smoke where they're not supposed to."

You twisted slightly in his lap, now facing him more directly. "So do you still hate me?" you asked, teasing, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as your fingers played with the hem of his hoodie.

Sunoo didn't look away. He rolled his eyes like he always did. His voice was soft, almost playful. "Yes. Obviously. You're still annoying."

You pouted at his answer, dragging out a whine. His smile lingered, and even though his words were stubborn, his hands had tightened just slightly around your waist. "I'm not joking," he added, resting his forehead against yours. "You're so, so, sooo annoying."

The night ended up your thighs trembling around his head, your hands tangled in his hair, your voice broken from the way his mouth worked between your legs. He made you come three times with his tongue alone, not stopping until you pushed at his shoulders with tear-brimmed eyes and slurred, begging words. Then he let you ride him,  your back turned to him, your head lolled to the side as his hands gripped your hips.

The next morning, the weight in your chest had lifted. You didn't feel guilty for smiling. Even when Jay clapped his hands together loudly the moment you walked into the studio and said, "You're in a good mood, thank God," you just grinned wider and grabbed his electric guitar, pretending to tune it like nothing had happened.

"You want a hit?" Kai asked, waving his vape your way.

You shook your head without even thinking. "I already quit smoking," you said casually, even though that choice had been harder than you liked to admit.

You and Sunoo didn't put labels on what was happening—not yet—but things fell into place anyway. There was a rhythm to it. You spent weekends at his apartment, usually coming over late Friday, falling asleep on his couch after watching movies and ordering junk food. Saturday mornings meant waking up tangled together, cooking breakfast with your hair a mess and his arms still lazy around your waist, and Sunday nights usually ended with you riding him slowly before passing out from exhaustion. Mondays, he walked you to your motorbike before his duty started again.

One Sunday afternoon, sprawled on his bed while you were half-scrolling through TikTok and half-dozing on his lap, he suddenly shoved his phone in your face. "I think this type of style suits you more," he said, showing you some random Pinterest board filled with soft, layered outfits—more structured, a little feminine, clean silhouettes with warm tones. "You need to upgrade your wardrobe."

You squinted at the screen, unimpressed. "Hmm. I think you're just projecting your type in girls on me," you teased, nudging his thigh with your elbow.

Sunoo rolled his eyes, clearly expecting that answer. "No. I just think it looks presentable. And it would look good on you."

You looked down at yourself—baggy ripped jeans, an oversized acubi-style shirt, sneakers worn down from all your bike rides. Not exactly the most polished look, but it was comfortable. You shrugged with a small grin. "Okay, I'll try," you said. "Anyway, can we visit that new café that opened last week? I saw it on Instagram and they have a bunch of Bon Jovi albums on display."

Sunoo blinked. "Bon Jovi?"

"Yeah, like actual vinyls. The post said there's a listening booth too." You leaned closer, eyes brightening. "And the interior looks so nice. Real vintage vibe. I figured you'd like it."

He tilted his head, pretending to think. "Hmm... okay, maybe next week?"

You nodded, trying to keep it casual, but the smile that broke out on your face gave you away. Excitement bloomed in your chest like it was something new. It wasn't just another plan. It wasn't just a random meet-up. This one felt different. You kept thinking about it all week. Every small moment your mind wandered, it wandered to that café. To how you'd sit across from him, to the lighting, to the smell of the place, maybe to the way he'd laugh when you'd try to act cool about your favorite album being on display. You weren't even sure if it counted as a real date, but you were choosing to believe it did. That belief made your stomach flutter.

By Saturday, you had cleaned your room twice, even reorganized your crochet materials—something you only did when you were nervous. Your playlist was full of Bon Jovi songs now, looping endlessly while you stared at your closet.

That morning, you found yourself standing in front of your mirror, staring at your reflection longer than usual. Your piercings were gone—well, mostly. You'd taken out the ones on your face, letting the skin breathe, letting yourself look softer. The change made you feel exposed, a little too bare, but also like you were trying.

"Do you think I look presentable now without the piercings?" you asked, turning slightly in front of the mirror. The floral dress you wore was one of the few pieces in your closet that wasn't oversized, black or red. You smoothed the fabric down nervously, then glanced at Jay who was lounging nearby.

Jay lifted his eyes from his phone, a cigarette loosely held between his fingers. His face twisted slightly like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or roll his eyes. "What's with all this performative energy? You still look like an emo girl who got dragged into church."

You shot him a glare. "I'm being serious."

"So am I." He took a drag, blowing the smoke toward the window. "You look like yourself, just with fewer metal parts. That's not a bad thing, by the way. It's still you."

"You don't get it," you said quietly, adjusting the straps of the dress again. "I need to look like I have my shit together. I'm going somewhere... and I want to be seen a certain way."

Jay rolled his eyes, walked over, and stood behind you, he stubbed out his cigarette on the ceramic ashtray near the window and reached toward you, pushing your hair behind your shoulders without asking. He squinted as he examined your face. "You'll look better if you tie your hair up," he mumbled, the filter of his half-lit cigarette still stuck between his lips. "Ponytail or something. The dress opens your collarbone. It works."

You blinked at him, surprised by how serious he sounded, then reached up instinctively to gather your hair into your hand. You tilted your head, testing the look in the mirror. Something about it clicked. You could see it now—the way your eyes opened up more, how your features looked cleaner without the strands framing your face. A bit bare, sure. A little too soft maybe. "I think you're right," you said with a small smile, already grabbing a scrunchie from your pocket. "That actually helps."

Jay shrugged. "Whatever. You asked."

You turned to face him, grateful even if he looked bored out of his mind. "Thanks, Jay. Really."

"Wow, you look really good, girl."

The compliment came with a spark in Sunoo's eyes the moment you stepped inside the café, and it sent a flush creeping up your neck. His gaze lingered, tracing your figure with genuine awe that he didn't even try to hide. You hadn't brought your motorbike today—not in a dress like this—and walking into the café with heels clicking and your hair tied back suddenly felt worth it.

"Only good?" you teased, pouting as you twirled the hem of your floral dress playfully in front of him. With a soft push of your fingers, you tucked your hair behind your ear and tilted your head, smiling shyly as you searched his face for a better reaction. You wanted him to say beautiful, maybe even breathtaking, but even without the words, the look in his eyes told you everything.

Your heart had been thumping ever since you saw him seated by the window, casually checking his phone. Now, up close, it was worse. The sunlight streaming into the café highlighted the soft brown fall of his hair, the gentle curve of his cheekbones, the way his denim shirt hung open over a simple white tank top. He looked effortless—too effortless for someone who always drove you to such nervousness. And yet, despite that nervousness, you found yourself loosening.

The longer you stayed in his presence, the easier it was to talk, to laugh, to let go of the performance. There was something so calming about talking to him about things you loved, sharing songs you liked, memories from art class, favorite old movies, dumb fashion trends—simple things, but they became important because you were sharing them with him. Talking about your likes with someone you liked—it felt too rare to take for granted.

That's when it hit you. Maybe it was finally time to talk about what was happening between the two of you. The affection, the growing intimacy, the weekends together, the sleepovers that blurred the line between casual and committed—it had all been there. But neither of you had dared to define it. He had always been honest with you. In the four months you'd been tangled into each other's lives, he never lied about what he felt or where he stood. So maybe, it was time for you to take the risk again and ask.

As the two of you wandered near the wooden display cabinet filled with vintage Bon Jovi and Queen albums, your fingers reached for his and laced through gently. He let you. Your hands stayed linked, a quiet statement hanging between you, even while your mouth continued to talk about vinyl sleeves and weird 80s cover art. That peace only lasted seconds before a familiar voice cut through the space.

"Sunoo?"

Sunoo's body tensed before he turned around, his eyes wide in surprise. You perked up too, smiling with recognition, you gasped as you waved at the approaching figure. Jake, lively as ever, grinned brightly as he made his way to you.

But just as you were about to speak, Sunoo let go of your hand. The action was subtle, but it was sharp. His fingers pulled away quickly, and his body leaned ever so slightly to the side, creating distance between the two of you. You tried to ignore the way your smile faltered, tried to hold it together as Jake reached you both

"What are you doing here? Are you two bonding?" Jake asked with his usual exaggerated pout before leaning in to kiss your cheeks in greeting, then doing the same to Sunoo. "Without me?"

Your mouth opened, ready to answer, to explain but Sunoo spoke first. "No, we just ran into each other," he said too quickly, a small nervous laugh escaping his lips. "And we couldn't help but talk for a bit. It's been so long since we last saw each other, you know?"

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. And your heart sank. Jake, ever the extrovert, nodded along cheerfully, completely unaware. "Ahhh! That's so cute! I'm just glad you two are hanging out again. We seriously need to set up another sleepover, right?"

You forced a small chuckle, brushing your hand along the side of your skirt. "T-that's a great idea," you said, trying to match his enthusiasm. But your eyes flicked back to Sunoo. He was tapping his foot against the floor, fast and impatient, not meeting your gaze.

It was like something had shifted in an instant. And now you were standing in that silence again, not sure if the version of Sunoo who held your hand minutes ago was still there... or if he had just vanished with Jake's arrival.

Even after Jake finally waved goodbye and disappeared down the street, your mood stayed where it dropped. Sunoo stood next to you like nothing happened, releasing a sigh and forcing a new topic as if the tension wasn't heavy in the air. He spoke casually, talking about a song he'd heard recently, about trying a different drink next time, anything to ignore the silence growing between you. But you couldn't pretend like him. You couldn't look him in the eye or laugh at something meaningless when your chest felt like it was being squeezed in slow, deliberate pulses. You kept your gaze down, watching your feet move with every step, barely hearing a thing he was saying.

Sunoo started to notice. His tone shifted—less patient, more irritated. The lightness in his voice faded and was replaced with annoyance. He didn't like when you shut down, and now it was clear he was blaming you for the sudden weight between you.

By the time you reached the door of his apartment, you knew the conversation was inevitable. He stepped in first, then turned, and before you could even take your shoes off, his voice came tight and harsh.

"Are you seriously getting all moody just because I let go of your hand when Jake showed up?" His eyes narrowed, his words clipped. "We agreed to keep this between us, not to say anything to Jake. You knew that. Why are you acting like this now?"

You stayed by the doorway, not moving. "It's not just about that," you murmured, your voice already thin. You didn't want to argue. You didn't want to cry either, but your body was already betraying you, tightening up.

He scoffed. "Then what is it? Because I didn't hold your hand in front of him? That's it?"

"It's just..." you took a breath, and even that was hard to push out. You felt like the words were caught in your throat, slicing through. "You looked—ashamed."

Sunoo didn't pause. He didn't soften. "Of course I'm ashamed," he blurted, not even giving the sentence time to sit. "How the hell are we supposed to explain that we're what—fucking each other? What do you want me to say to him?"

You flinched at his word, you looked up slowly, heart pounding so loud you could hear it in your ears. "It's not that hard to admit, is it?" you said, your voice shaking as you took a step forward, eyes stinging. "People do that all the time. Fuck buddies aren't a secret anymore. It's normal. You think Jake would've been shocked?"

"That's not the point—"

"It is the point, Sunoo!" You cut him off, your voice rising despite the tremble in it. "We've been doing this for months. We spend every weekend together. We sleep in the same bed. We talk like we mean something to each other, so why is it so hard to tell him that we're — something?"

You didn't expect him to shout back, but he did. "Because I'm supposed to be gay! Do you get that? I'm not supposed to feel like this about you!" The words came out angry. "And you keep pushing it like it's that simple."

You stared at him, your face falling, your fists curling. "Who fucking cares if you're gay? I never made you not be." You took a step back, voice cracking. "Just say it. Just say you're ashamed to be seen with me."

Sunoo's face twisted, but he didn't back down. His chest was heaving now, like something in him had snapped too. "You're projecting your insecurity on me! You act like I owe you something just because you decided to catch feelings! I never promised you more than what this was. That was you. That was always you!"

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stumbled back, blinking fast as the first tear broke past your lashes.       "You're the one who came back after that night," he went on, voice rising with frustration, like he couldn't stop himself anymore. "You kept showing up, acting like this was something serious, like this was going to turn into something. I just—" he stopped, looking away like he couldn't even look at you when he said it, "I just gave in. You were tempting, okay? You made it hard to say no."

All the blood in your body seemed to rush to your ears, and still, you couldn't hear anything but the sound of your heart breaking. Another tear slipped down your cheek, and your lips parted like you were going to respond—but nothing came out.        Sunoo blinked, realizing too late what he had just said. The way he looked at you shifted instantly, as if he wanted to take it back, but the damage was already there. "...Wait," he whispered, reaching for you instinctively. "I didn't mean—"

But you just nodded, slowly, painfully, like someone waking up from a dream they didn't want to end. "I- I get it," you said quietly, stepping past him and walking out his door like your legs weren't shaking. You didn't even turn to look at him. "I'm sorry," you added, trying to keep your voice steady, though the sound cracked anyway. You wiped under your eyes, but the tears kept falling, soft and warm against your skin. "You were right. I was annoying. I was pushy. I caught feelings, I shouldn't have. I thought maybe... I don't know what I thought."

You paused to breathe, your throat tightening as you tried to keep the sob from escaping. "What could I even expect, right? You're still a man. Of course this meant n-nothing."

Sunoo's chest tightened so hard he couldn't breathe for a second. He wanted to stop you, to wrap his arms around you, to tell you it wasn't true—none of what you were saying. That he did care. That this wasn't nothing to him. That he didn't think you were annoying, or a mistake, or something to be ashamed of. But he couldn't get the words out. The fear clenched too tightly around his ribs.

"I'm sorry," you said again, a whisper this time. Another tear slipped free and this time you laughed, short and broken. "God, I sound pathetic. S-sorry, Sunoo. I'll go. I'll leave you alone. You won't have to worry about me again."

You turned, fast, footsteps uneven as you tried to get away before he could see the full collapse happening inside you.

Sunoo didn't stop you. And you broke. You didn't wait to cry. The tears came fast and violent, your chest aching as you stumbled down the street, wiping your face on the back of your hand like it would help. At the bus stop, you sat hunched on the bench, arms wrapped around yourself as if holding your own body could keep you from falling apart. On the bus, you curled near the window, staring out at the dark streets, your reflection barely visible through the glass. You didn't care who saw you. The ache inside you was louder than embarrassment.

By the time you made it to your apartment, your hands were trembling. You didn't even bother turning on the lights. You made your way straight to your room, tugging the dress zipper with shaking fingers. When it wouldn't budge, frustration bubbled up, too hot to contain. You gritted your teeth and yanked, but it wouldn't move, so you grabbed the fabric near your shoulder and ripped it down your back with a cry of frustration. The fabric tore, seams giving way under your rage.

You tossed it to the floor like it burned you. Chest heaving, you stormed over to your nightstand and grabbed the crumpled pack of Marlboro Reds. Your fingers trembled as you pulled one out, jamming it between your lips, and fumbled with the lighter until the flame caught. You inhaled sharply, letting the smoke burn down your throat as you collapsed into the chair near the window.

"Stupid," you muttered under your breath, blinking away more tears that wouldn't stop coming. "So fucking stupid."

You thought you were strong enough not to let this happen again. You thought you could handle it. But what did you expect? You were so obsessed with ruining him when you first met, so fixated on getting under his skin, that you didn't notice he was already getting under yours. You didn't even get the chance to ruined him—he got to you first.

• ───────────────── •

Sunoo had never experienced a heartbreak that ached like this. He had felt sad before—moments of longing, fleeting attachments—but those had always passed with time, fading within days, maybe a week at most. They never lingered, never left anything permanent behind. So why the hell had he been sulking for nearly a month now, barely able to focus, barely able to sleep, staring blankly at the tulip bouquet on his desk like it could somehow explain what went wrong?

He told himself he should be relieved. There were no more complications in his way, no emotional distractions to deal with. He was finally free to focus on his demanding internship, on his future, on everything he had planned for years. And yet every late-night shift, every quiet weekend, every exhausted morning waking up to silence felt impossibly hollow without you. You used to send him silly selfies while he studied, comfort him through voice notes when he ranted about how hard nursing was, remind him to eat when he was too tired to remember. Now, all he had was the buzzing of lights, the clinking of stainless steel, the silence of the hospital—and that goddamn tulip bouquet collecting dust in the corner.

His eyebags were darker, heavier, like they carried the weight of everything he never said to you. His thoughts were loud, looping over what he should've done differently, what he should've said the moment he saw your face fall.

Fuck. He missed you so much it made his whole body ache. Every fucking night he lay in bed, biting his fist to muffle the cries. Were you okay? Were you eating? Were you still crying? Were you still thinking about him? God, he hoped not. He didn't deserve your thoughts, your sadness, your softness—but deep inside, he still wished he lived rent-free in your head the way you haunted his.

He wanted to hold you again, to collapse into your arms after a hard shift, to hear your voice teasing him when he whined about school. He wanted to kiss your neck like he used to, trace the little freckles on your collarbone, let you thread his hair through your fingers while he laid on your lap. He wanted to watch you feed your cat, complain about his bad taste in coffee, laugh when you purposely messed up his eyeliner just to annoy him. He wanted the boring things with you. The quiet, gentle things he once brushed off like they were nothing. He regretted every time he took you for granted.

"Sunoo!" Jungwon's voice jolted him out of his thoughts. His friend clapped him on the back, grinning. "Congrats! Why do you look like someone just died? We're graduating! Where's the joy, girl?"

Sunoo forced a weak smile, shrugging his shoulders as he kept his gaze locked on the soccer field in front of them, watching the high schoolers running laps, laughing with no clue how cruel it was to grow up.        "You've been M.I.A. lately," Jungwon continued, nudging him. "Not cool. You ghosted everyone. No more parties? No more hangouts? We should celebrate. It's not fun without you."

Sunoo exhaled quietly, shoulders sinking. "Jungwon," he said under his breath. "I think I got infected by men's emotional negligence," Sunoo muttered bitterly, eyes still locked on the field, watching a soccer ball bounce and roll across the grass

Jungwon blinked at him. Then snorted. Then burst out laughing so hard he doubled over, hitting Sunoo's back again. "What? What are you saying? You're not even dating anyone! You've been so secretive about your love life lately, I thought maybe you were going through a dry spell or something." He leaned back, grinning. "But don't worry—men are assholes. It's honestly safer to hurt them first before they get the chance to hurt you—"

"It's not a man," he said quietly.

And Jungwon stopped laughing. He stiffened beside him, eyes blinking wide. "Wait. What?"

Sunoo didn't look at him. He just kept watching the field, the blurry shape of a boy chasing a ball, the sun dipping lower behind the school buildings. "It's not a man," he repeated. "I wish it was. It would've been easier."

His lips curled bitterly as he looked down at his white sneakers, scuffed and dirtied from weeks of walking to class in silence. "I miss her. No shit. I miss her so fucking bad."

There was a small and self-deprecating laugh, tugging at the edge of his voice, but it cracked halfway through. "It's stupid, isn't it? It hurts more when you know it's your fault. I keep thinking about all the things I told myself I'd never become. I always talked about how men treat people like shit—how they use and walk away, how they never apologize for the damage they leave behind. How they shrink from softness because they're scared of what it says about them."

He rubbed at his chest with the heel of his palm like it might ease the tightness building there, but the pressure only grew heavier. "I always swore I'd never be like that. And then I went ahead and did it anyway. I made her feel that way, Jungwon. Like she was something to be ashamed of. Like she was just a mistake I wanted to keep hidden. Like the feelings she gave me were inconvenient." He let out a shaky breath, shoulders caving in slightly. "And the worst part? I never even told her how much I liked her. How much she meant to me."

Jungwon's mouth opened slightly, stunned into silence by the sight of Sunoo—the usually sharp-tongued, composed Sunoo—sitting beside him with tears slipping quietly down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," Sunoo whispered. "You can laugh at me now. Tease me. Say I got soft. Say I turned my back on my sexuality. Or that I lost my mind over a girl when I always said I wouldn't—"

"Girl," Jungwon interrupted, his tone softer than as he scooted closer and draped an arm across Sunoo's back. "Relax. Why the hell would I laugh at you for this? You're clearly hurting. I'd have to be heartless to find that funny."

Sunoo sniffled, wiping his face. Jungwon sighed, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "You know, I think sometimes we get so wrapped up in the idea of who we're supposed to be, or what we're supposed to feel, that we forget we're just... human. You always said you didn't want to be like the guys who hurt others, right? Well, maybe you fucked up. Maybe you acted like one of them. But you realized it. You're sitting here crying because of it. That already makes you different from most."

Sunoo didn't speak, but his jaw trembled, and the tears didn't stop. Jungwon tilted his head, speaking more gently now. "Men can be assholes. A lot of them are. But being born with a dick doesn't mean you're destined to be one. What makes someone a real man is taking responsibility. Owning up to your shit. Making it right when you can."

He paused, then smiled faintly. "We might be one of the girls, sure. We squeal, we wear blush, we cry over small things, and we talk too much when we drink—but we also carry the weight of things like this. Of hurting people we care about."

Sunoo's breath hitched again, and this time when he wiped at his face, he was a little slower, a little calmer.        "You know what you need to do," Jungwon said, nudging him gently. "If she meant something to you... you owe her more than silence. And you owe yourself more than sitting here pretending you're okay."

"Do you think it's too late?" he asked finally.

"I don't know," Jungwon admitted. "But people forgive stupid things when they see you're actually sorry. And you are. I see it. Maybe she will too."

"You're definitely insane," Jay said. "Because why the hell would you decide to do your nails when you know you have to play electric guitar tomorrow?"

You didn't even look up. Your fingers were too focused on the torn fabric in your lap, guiding the needle carefully through the jagged tear. You tugged gently at the thread, the tension sliding through the cloth as you murmured, "It's just minor chords."

Jay groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Minor chords and you're still skipping practice like you've got this down. God, you're making my head hurt."

"I said I'll show up," you replied flatly.

Jay scoffed in the background, but you ignored it. Let him roll his eyes. Let him sigh and throw another fit about perfection. It wasn't like he'd understand anyway. The nails weren't the problem. Jay and his perfectionist self always had something to complain about when people didn't bend to his rhythm. But you liked your nails. You liked how they shimmered when the light hit them. They made you feel decent—like maybe, just maybe, you were still capable of taking care of yourself.

Except you were too stupid to realize you'd chosen that exact shade of mint green. That soft, sweet color he once said reminded him of summer. The one he jokingly suggested would look cute on your nails if you ever ditched the blacks and reds you usually wore. The color had haunted you since then, just like everything else tied to him.

You stared down at your fingers, freshly painted and curled slightly as you guided the needle through the torn seam of the dress. You had sworn to never touch it again, but here you were, piecing it back together with trembling hands.

Heard from someone that Sunoo made it into the Latin honors list. Top of his class, just as you expected. And good for him. Really. You hoped he was sleeping well, smiling like he always did, charming everyone with that beautiful, soft voice and those ridiculously perfect eyes.

You hoped he forgot you — Because it wasn't fair that you were still waking up thinking about him.

"Fuck," you hissed, jerking your hand back as the needle pricked the pad of your finger. Blood welled up, a small drop blooming at the surface. It smeared faintly against the fabric—right over the seam you'd been trying to fix. "Ugh, shit," you muttered, staring at the new stain forming on the pale material.

Perfect! Just perfect. You sucked on your finger for a second, breathing hard through your nose, trying to hold everything back.          "You could've just bought a new dress, you know." Jay said, looking at your face.

"I didn't want a new one," you said quietly, still looking at the ruined thread. "I wanted to fix it."

If someone asked you what exactly you were feeling right now, you wouldn't know how to answer. There wasn't a word that fit—nothing specific. You were functioning just fine. You got out of bed. You drank your coffee. You worked. You smiled when people talked to you, even laughed when the joke was decent enough. So, you were fine, right?

But then why did everything feel so dull? Why did the silence in your room stretch too long, and why did the nights feel colder, even when the fan wasn't turned on?

Maybe it was because you quit your part-time job. Maybe it was because you'd thrown yourself into freelance commissions, desperate to stay busy, desperate to drown out the thoughts by making yourself useful. Drawing until your eyes hurt, until your hand cramped. It worked for a while—until even the deadlines stopped scaring you.

The truth was, you had too much space now. And all that extra room made it harder to ignore the feeling gnawing at the edges of your chest.

Jay had once said, "That's why it's hard for me to watch you fall in love. You're the kind of person who gives everything without realizing it. You show up without fail, but somehow still feel so far away."

You didn't understand what he meant back then. Thought he was being dramatic, maybe too sentimental. But now you did. You were always present, always dependable. But your heart? You'd locked it away for years, guarded and watchful, convinced no one would be careful enough to hold it.

And when you let your walls down. You gave in completely, all at once, as if you'd been waiting your whole life for a reason to. And he didn't stay... Now you sat alone again, trying to rebuild the barricade you'd once worn. You tried patching yourself up with work and distractions, thinking if you filled your days enough, the ache would fade. But some nights, it came back stronger. A ghost knocking on your ribs, reminding you of the softness you once allowed.

You regret letting him see you that clearly. Regret peeling yourself open, showing the tender parts you swore no one would ever get close to. You used to be so good at keeping people at a distance, but you ruined yourself when you made an exception.

"Putting my defenses up, 'cause I don't wanna fall in love."

Your voice rang out, echoing through the crowded room. You stood at the front of the stage, clutching the mic, and the lights hit your face just enough to make everything outside the spotlight blur into nothing.

"Never put my love out on the line..." The lyrics spilled from your lips. Your eyes drifted to the floor where your foot tapped in rhythm, then to the strings of your guitar as your fingers pressed down the chords. "Never said yes to the right guy. Never had trouble getting what I want..."

A faint smile tugged at your lips. "But when it comes to you, I'm never good enough..."

You looked up then, stealing a glance toward your bandmates. They were all focused on their instruments, lost in the music like they always were, eyes down or closed, rocking slightly with the beat. None of them looked at you. You were glad for it. You didn't want them to see the way your hands were trembling on the fretboard, or how your throat threatened to close the moment his face flickered in your mind. "When I don't care, I can play 'em like a Ken doll..."

You swallowed thickly and tried to stay in rhythm, tried to keep your tone playful like the song intended—but your mind was far from the lyrics now. It drifted elsewhere. To him.

"Won't wash my hair, then make 'em bounce like a basketball..." Your breath hitched, but you kept going. "But you make me wanna act like a girl..."

You closed your eyes then. "Paint my nails and wear high heels..." Your fingers slid along the guitar strings automatically. And then, without warning, his face appeared—soft eyes, dimpled smile, that maddeningly gentle voice. Sunoo.

"Yes, you—" You faltered. "—make me so nervous that I just can't hold your hand."

You pushed through the chorus, the words twisting in your throat. The beat thundered in your ears, drowning out the sound of your own thoughts. You didn't miss a note, but you felt every crack forming inside you. And when the song finally ended, the stage lights dimmed and the crowd's cheers erupted like static in your chest, you barely smiled.

You brushed your hair back, exhaling hard as you stepped off the stage. The adrenaline was already wearing off, leaving only the sweat sticking to your skin and the tightness in your throat. You grabbed the water bottle waiting for you and took a few long gulps, letting the cool liquid settle your nerves.

"I thought you hated pop songs."

You turned your head slightly, recognizing Sunghoon's voice before you saw his face. He was already beside you, grinning. You sighed, long and loud, then handed him the water without looking, forcing him to take it. "You're annoying," you muttered, adjusting your loose sando, tugging the strap back up your shoulder and trying to fix your tangled hair with one hand. "You know I didn't pick the setlist."

"But you sang the hell out of it."

"Don't push it," you warned.

Then his voice dropped again, quieter but curious. "You got a new tattoo?"

You stilled for a moment. Your hand went to your nape instinctively, brushing over the still-healing skin just below the red ink etched across your upper spine. You didn't answer, just gave a hum of acknowledgment before slipping your hand down your back. Without shame, you reached beneath your shirt and unhooked your bra, letting your chest finally breathe after hours under the stage lights.

Sunghoon didn't say anything for a moment, but you felt his gaze linger. "Are you free tonight?" he asked. "Thought maybe we could hang out. Talk or something. Just us?"

Another sigh escaped you, this one heavier than the last. You didn't try to hide the exhaustion in your voice this time.           "Sunghoon..." you started, turning to finally face him properly. "You're a good friend. You've been sticking around for longer than most people would, and I get it. You think there's something here, maybe because I let you hang around or because I'm too tired to fight your flirting half the time."

He opened his mouth to say something, but you raised your hand. "But I'm not interested," you said, carefully but clearly.

He blinked. The corners of his mouth twitched, like he didn't know whether to frown or fake a laugh, but then his lips settled into a small, almost understanding smile. "You're not interested in boys," he said, a little too quickly, trying to soften the blow for himself.

"No," you cut in, sharper this time. "I'm not interested in you."

Sunghoon looked down, then up, that crooked smile still hanging on his lips. "You know I won't stop, right?" he said, brushing off rejection with a joke.

You raised an eyebrow. "That's your choice," you replied plainly. "But don't expect me to change my mind."

"Okay," He nodded, his gaze dropped before you even finished your sentence, trailing down lazily across your chest.

Your fingers snapped in front of his face. "Seriously?" you said with irritation.

Sunghoon blinked, caught, his mouth twitching up. "Sorry, sorry," he mumbled quickly. His eyes flicked back up to your face. "Is that a new piercing?"

You didn't respond right away. You crossed your arms instead, trying to hold onto your patience and bite back the exhaustion blooming across your shoulders. The days had been long, your emotions threadbare. "Ni-ki did it," you said finally, eyes narrowing as your annoyance deepened.

When your gig finally ended, you let out a long breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. You made your way toward the bar where the owner usually handed out the cut for the night, hoping it wouldn't take long because all you wanted was to go home and lie down. But before you could even reach the counter, you were nearly knocked off balance by someone throwing their arms around you.

"Oh my God! I haven't seen you in forever!" You tensed instinctively, blinking as you looked up—Jake. He pulled back slightly, still gripping your shoulders, eyes shining.

You forced a small smile. "Hi. How are you?" you asked politely, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face. "I've been... busy. Really busy. You know how it gets."

Jake nodded eagerly, releasing you as he leaned against the edge of the bar. "Yeah, I get it. It's fine. Just figured I'd bump into you sooner or later. Hey—are you attending Sunoo's graduation this week?"

You froze. Your fingers twitched slightly as you curled them into the hem of your shirt, the smile on your face faltering before you managed to hold it steady again. "I—" you started, stumbling over your words. "You know we're not... that close anymore. So..." You trailed off with a shrug, trying not to look too affected even though your heart had suddenly picked up its pace.

Jake tilted his head, eyes narrowing like he was about to laugh. Not in a cruel way, but in that clueless, teasing way. You didn't give him the chance. You pushed the conversation forward before he could press further. "But how was he?" you asked quickly, pretending not to care too much even though the question burned on your tongue.

Jake leaned back and sighed dramatically. "I don't know! That bitch is ghosting everyone—just like you!" He chuckled, nudging your arm. "The only time I ever saw him was when he was at the university doing paperwork for his graduation. He's been MIA otherwise. You? Any dating updates?"

You gave another tired smile. "Not really my priorities lately," you replied, brushing your fingers over your wrist, suddenly aware of how cold your skin felt. "I'm glad he's graduating though. That's good for him."

There was a pause. Jake didn't seem to notice, already moving on with a laugh.

"What about you?" you asked before he could dig any deeper. "When's your graduation? I pity you guys. I still have two years."

Jake groaned, rubbing his face. "Ugh, don't remind me. I'm stressing because my coat won't fit."

You laughed softly as Jake rambled beside you, jumping from topic to topic like someone trying to make up for lost time. He was always like this—talkative, friendly, too eager. You tried your best to follow along, nodding when appropriate, giving short answers even though your energy was already hanging by a thread. Every bone in your body felt heavy after the performance, your shoulders stiff from standing so long, your throat dry even after the water.

He launched into another round of questions, asking about your gigs, your commissions, and whether or not you'd finally taken time off. Then, inevitably, he brought up Park Sunghoon.

"People still think we're together? Fuck that shit." You let out a grunt.

"They just like to talk," Jake offered with a shrug, as if that made it any less irritating. "You know how it is."

You rolled your eyes and tucked the bills into your bag, already thinking about what cheap meal you could get on the way home. "Then they should talk about how I'm not interested in anyone right now. Spread that."

"Not even Shin Ryujin?" he said, clearly enjoying how far he could push the conversation. "I swear you used to have the biggest, fattest crush on her. I mean—she agreed to model for you! That's a move, right?"

You tilted your head slightly. "Or maybe she just liked my art."

Jake paused for a beat, as if waiting for you to say more, but you didn't. He smirked, already forming a thought to your answer. You just shrugged, like you didn't care anymore, you wish it did. None of them ever made you feel the way he did.

Let Jake think what he wanted to think. Let people gossip and spread whatever they wanted. You were too tired to keep defending your disinterest, too tired to explain that the only person you'd really wanted was Kim Sunoo. Fucking Kim Sunoo.

And ironically, the universe had its own cruel sense of humor.

Jake didn't expect to see Sunoo the very next day—standing in front of a flower shop. Without warning, Jake squealed and slapped him on the back so hard that Sunoo's entire frame jolted forward. His eyes flew wide, mouth parting in surprise as he turned to glare.

"Fuck you," Jake laughed, hitting him again before he could dodge. "Who's the lucky person, huh? Don't tell me you're finally confessing to someone?"

Sunoo winced, rubbing his stinging shoulder and trying not to groan. "Can you not hit so hard? Shit."

It had taken him three whole days just to muster up the courage. Three days of Jungwon talking sense into him, helping him run through scenarios and worst-case outcomes, of typing and deleting countless drafts of what he wanted to say. Three days of checking your schedule like a lovesick stalker, memorizing the time and place of your fashion show just to make sure he'd catch you when you weren't buried in fabrics or fixing last-minute outfits.

He didn't really know what he was doing. The idea of bringing flowers felt old-fashioned, maybe even stupid, but he clung to it because it gave him something to hold—something to fill his trembling hands with when he finally stood in front of you. Because if he admitted it to himself, he really fucking missed you.

Jake, as usual, wouldn't shut up. He rambled about school, his thesis, some fight in a group chat he got dragged into, asking random questions in between like Sunoo was giving him the attention he wanted. Sunoo tapped his foot impatiently, nodding absently, eyes flicking to his wristwatch. He knew your show was scheduled to start soon. Jungwon had confirmed it just last night. If he moved now, he could probably sneak into the venue and find you. He wasn't sure how it would go, but he knew he didn't want to delay it any longer.

But then, Jake said your name.

"She looked so good last night, by the way. I talked to her after her gig," he said, chewing on his gum, unaware of the way Sunoo's shoulders tensed. "And I think she's dating that model of hers."

Sunoo stopped tapping his foot. Slowly turned to face him. Jake kept going. "You know Park Sunghoon? He really, really likes her! But she's totally into this girl—Shin Ryujin. If Sunghoon finds out he got rejected again for a girl, he's gonna be pissed."

The bouquet almost slipped out of Sunoo's hands. "Wait, what?" he asked.

Jake blinked, startled by the shift in tone. "Well, I mean—not confirmed or anything. But it looked like it, right? I mean, come on! If you know Ryujin, she's hot! They had crazy chemistry onstage."

But Sunoo didn't hear the rest. His pulse pounded so loudly in his ears it drowned everything else. The bouquet in his hands felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, the crinkling paper suddenly unbearable beneath his tightening grip. He could feel that familiar burn in his chest. The weight pressing down on his lungs, stealing the air from him. It wasn't just surprise, or confusion. It was anger.

No. That can't be true. Jake said it wasn't confirmed. He said maybe. But even maybe was too much for Sunoo.

Because that wasn't just anyone. That was you. His you. Even if he hadn't been able to say it properly before, even if he spent weeks keeping his distance, fumbling over his feelings, even if he was too much of a coward to tell you when he should've—he never once stopped wanting you.

And the idea of someone else having you, touching you, making you smile the way he used to, hurt more than he thought it would. His stomach twisted with jealousy. His mind raced with every memory he had of you—your laugh, your stubbornness, the way you always acted like nothing touched you until he looked close enough to see it did. He hated the thought of anyone else getting that close. It didn't matter if it was a guy or a girl. No one else could understand you like he did. No one else deserved to.

"I need to go," Sunoo muttered, already turning on his heel.

Jake blinked again, stepping forward. "Wait, go where? Sunoo—hey!"

But Sunoo didn't answer. He didn't look back. He walked faster, feet moving, bouquet still clenched tightly in his hand.

All he could think about was the image of you standing beside someone else. Laughing for someone else. Looking at them with the kind of softness you used to show only to him. The thought alone made his blood boil. He wasn't just jealous. He was angry. How dare someone else think they could have you like that?

No. That's not how this ends. He wouldn't let it. Even if it was his fault for waiting this long, even if he messed everything up from the beginning—he wasn't going to let someone else win. He wasn't going to stand on the sidelines any longer. Not when he still had something to fight for.

You were his. You've always been his. And he was going to prove it.

Sunoo made his way toward the university, his stomach twisting with every step. Most of the Fashion Design majors were still holed up on campus despite the start of summer break, preparing for the big event. He didn't know fashion shows involved this many people, this much movement, or noise. Navigating through all of it felt like trying to breathe underwater. He should've asked Jungwon for more specifics.

The halls were lined with racks of clothes, students rushing in and out of rooms, arms full of fabrics, makeup brushes, clipboards, and coffee. Sunoo tried to ask where the waiting room was, but everyone was too preoccupied to answer. He turned corner after corner, scanning every face with increasing frustration—until his eyes landed on someone painfully familiar.

Standing outside the theater room, arms crossed and relaxed was Park Sunghoon. Just seeing him made Sunoo's eye twitch. His jaw clenched so tightly he thought it might crack.

"Sunoo, right?" Sunghoon greeted him, smiling as if they were old friends. Sunoo glanced down at the flowers in his hands. Suddenly, they looked ugly. The colors didn't look as soft anymore. The petals looked dull. He couldn't believe he ever fell for a face like that.

He forced a polite sweet smile, his lips twitching with the effort. "Sunghoon," he returned. "Where do fashion majors usually stay? I need to deliver this to someone." His tone stayed casual, but he had to bite down the irritation growing inside his chest.

Sunghoon beamed. "Oh! I was just heading to the backstage area too. Come with me."

Sunoo's jaw ached with how hard he was grinding his teeth behind another fake smile. Every muscle in his body screamed to walk the other way, but he needed to get to you. If that meant dealing with this guy, so be it. Still, it took everything in him not to roll his eyes or punch the smirk off Sunghoon's face. How dare he stand there so casually, acting like he belonged beside you?

"Is the eyelash glue irritating your eyes?" you asked Ryujin, checking the final touches of her makeup. Your fingers hovered near her temples, adjusting the corner of her lashes even though they looked fine. "And your heels? Are they stable?"

"They're fine, I promise. You don't have to worry," she said gently, offering a small smile.

You turned to Beomgyu, voice tighter this time. "The fabric on the lining—is it itchy? Are you uncomfortable at all?"

Beomgyu tilted his head at you like he was trying not to laugh. "You need to stop freaking out. I already told you I feel great in this."

Your chest was heavy with nerves, and your stomach churned, not just with anxiety but with the familiar, dull pain of your first-day period cramps that made everything ten times worse. The weight of responsibility was pressing on your shoulders. What if the seams tore? What if the models tripped? What if the fabric wrinkled wrong under the lights?

And before you could spiral further, a voice cut through your thoughts. One you recognized instantly.

"Sunghoon," you said wearily, not even trying to hide the exhaustion in your voice.

He stood there with a smile too bright for the atmosphere, holding out a bouquet of flowers to you. "Good luck later! I know you're going to get so many compliments for this."

You took the flowers without much thought, fingers curling around the stems as you exhaled through your nose, trying to keep yourself from snapping. You closed your eyes, drawing in a deeper breath. "Why are you here?" you muttered, already rubbing your temple. "This is our waiting room. You shouldn't be—"

"I came with Sunoo!" Sunghoon interrupted brightly. "Didn't know he was your friend too!"

And that stopped you. Your body tensed instantly. The flowers in your hand suddenly felt like they were cutting into your skin. You looked up, already feeling your throat tighten. And there he was.

Sunoo approached you slowly. Without saying a word, he reached out and gently took the flowers from your hand—the ones Sunghoon had just given—and replaced them with the bouquet he brought. Then, with a calm that felt almost too controlled, he handed the previous bouquet back to Sunghoon, whose brows furrowed in confusion.

Your fingers stayed frozen around the fresh flowers now in your hands. Sunoo stepped closer, voice dropping low as he met your eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Can we talk?"

Something in your chest pulled tight. You forced yourself to swallow the lump rising in your throat, jaw tensing as you tried to stay composed. You could already feel Ryujin and Beomgyu watching silently, even as Sunghoon stood there, confused and observant, his brows lifted like he could sense there was something here. "I'll be back," you muttered under your breath, barely glancing at them. Then, turning to Sunoo, you gestured with a subtle wave of your hand for him to follow.

You walked fast, ignoring how your heart was pounding too hard in your chest. The backstage halls were tight and filled with noise, but the moment you stepped into the music room and closed the door behind you, everything else faded out. The silence between you was loud. "What are you doing here, Sunoo?" you asked, turning to face him. You hated how soft your voice sounded. You hated that he still had that effect on you.

Sunoo didn't answer right away. He just looked at you, his lips parted, trying to decide how to speak, what words wouldn't end in a disaster. Then he said, carefully, "Is it true? That you're dating your model?"

You blinked. That's what this was about? You let out a harsh breath and rolled your eyes, pressing the heels of your palms into your forehead. "Seriously? That's why you're here?"

He flinched at the tone. "Is it true?" he repeated, almost like he was afraid to hear the answer. "You and your model. Are you—"

"Where the fuck did you even hear that?" you snapped, your patience finally cracking. "You think I'd seriously let rumors decide who I'm sleeping with now?"

Sunoo opened his mouth to speak, but you didn't let him. "Why are you even here, Sunoo?" you pushed. "To say sorry? To wave some flowers around and pretend like that's enough?"

He didn't answer. He just stood there, looking at you, his silence impossibly loud. You exhaled, your shoulders sinking with the weight you'd been carrying alone since he left. Your voice dropped out of emotional exhaustion. "I'm tired," you whispered, almost like admitting defeat. "I have a show to finish. I have deadlines. People are counting on me. And if all you came here for was a half-hearted apology, then don't bother—because I've stopped thinking about that night."

But your voice cracked on the last word, and you hated that he might've heard it. "I still think about that night." He said and that made your heart clench.

"You were right," he said quietly. "I came here to say sorry." He looked at you fully now. "And to tell you that I want to make you mine."

You blinked, stunned. "What?"

Sunoo stepped forward, his voice trembling even though he tried to sound certain. "I hurt you. I pushed you away. I made you cry and I said things I'll never stop regretting. I ran because I was scared, and I was selfish enough to believe I could come back when it was convenient for me."

And then, to your absolute disbelief, he lowered himself to the floor, dropping to his knees. His hands found yours, gently curling around your fingers, then pressing your palm to his face. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into your touch. "Every time I close my eyes, it's you," he murmured. "Every time I wake up, I hope it's a day I get to see you again. It's always you. "

Even though his voices cracked, Sunoo pushed through it. "I hated seeing that Sunghoon guy give you flowers. I hated thinking about you with your model even if it's not true. Because I want to be the one. I want to be the person you choose, over and over again, even when I don't deserve it. Even when it's hard, and messy, and complicated."

"I didn't come here just to be forgiven," he continued, voice cracking now as his forehead nearly pressed against your hand. "I came because I want you. Because I love you. And because if there's even a part of you—any small part—that still wants me, then I'll do whatever it takes to prove that I'm worth that second chance." He looked up at you, eyes glistening, his knees still on the ground.

You didn't realize you were crying until you felt the tear slide down your cheek. The warmth of it startled you. No matter how much you tried to build walls around yourself, he had always been able to slip through. Even now.

He looked up at you from where he knelt, eyes glassy, red-rimmed. Your fingers trembled in his hands, but you didn't pull away. "You hurt me, Sunoo."

His expression broke completely, a quiet whimper escaping from his lips as he held your hands tighter, desperate. "I know," he choked out. "And I hate myself for that. I'd take it all back if I could. But I can't... so all I can do now is ask you to let me fix what I ruined."

The silence stretched again, before he whispered, almost breathlessly, "...Please?"

That single word cracked something inside you. You sniffled, blinking fast as more tears welled in your eyes, and without thinking, you slowly lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. You leaned in, heart pounding wildly, and kissed him. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't desperate. It was tender—heartbreaking in its softness, and yet full of everything you'd been holding back. The pain, the longing, the anger, the love—it was all there, pressed into the seal of your lips against his.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, both of your eyes closed, breath mingling in the small space between you. "I never stopped wanting you," you whispered, your voice hoarse from the tears. "Even when I tried. Even when I told myself I should."

He shuddered at your words, his breath catching, fingers lifting to cup your cheeks. "I swear I'll spend every day proving I can be someone you deserve," he murmured.

You nodded faintly, your forehead still resting against his. Then, slowly, you leaned in again, brushing your lips against his—soft at first, searching, before you kissed him fully. This time, you didn't hold back. Your lips moved against his with purpose, and he responded just as eagerly, his head tilting to meet you, to match your rhythm.

When you deepened the kiss and your tongue slipped into his mouth, his breath hitched. He moaned softly, the sound catching in his throat as he melted further into you, hands tightening at your sides. "I missed you," he whispered breathlessly between kisses.

You smiled into his mouth, sniffling as your hands cupped his damp cheeks, wiping at the tears that kept trailing down. "Missed you too," you whispered, your voice breaking as you kissed him again, even longer this time. Your fingers curled around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

He kissed you like he was making up for lost time, like every second he spent away from you had left him starving. His hands slid gently under your arms before he lifted you and your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. You could feel the way his breathing picked up as he moved, sitting down on the old couch in the corner of the room, never letting his lips stray too far from yours.

You settled on his lap, knees bracketing his hips, your mouths still moving together in sync. You could feel the way his body was reacting—how tightly he held you, how his hands gripped your back. "I love you," he whispered against your lips.

Your breath caught, your heart thudding as he pressed a trail of kisses down your neck, slow and open-mouthed. His hands, once tentative, slid to your chest, cupping you through your clothes before he gently kneaded one breast in his palm. The sensation made you shiver, your back arching into his touch instinctively as you sucked in a breath.

"Say it again," you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut.

He leaned back just enough to look up at you, both hands still resting on your waist. "I love you. I'm not letting you go again."

You leaned forward to kiss him again, your lips brushing over his. His fingers slipped under your shirt, tugging it up carefully, revealing the curve of your breast and the soft lace of your bra. His breath hitched when he saw your nipple, the silver glint of the heart-shaped piercing catching the light. He paused, stunned, swallowing hard, the outline of his arousal now pressing clearly against his pants.

"W-wait," you breathed, your hands clutching at his shoulders as his face dipped lower. "It's not fully healed yet..."

Sunoo froze, his lips just grazing the swell of your breast. He pressed the gentlest kiss on your areola, lips lingering as his thumb toyed with the other nipple through your bra, tracing slow circles that made your hips twitch above him. Your body reacted, grinding slightly against the solid pressure beneath you. His breath grew ragged against your skin, hands sliding up your back, holding you tighter.

You rocked your hips against him with slow pressure, letting the friction build until the heat between your bodies felt like it might burn right through your skin. His hands moved restlessly, tugging at your waistband, already working to unbutton your pants.

But your hand caught his wrist, halting him. "N-No... we can't," you murmured, your voice ragged from panting. You glanced down at him beneath you—his brows were drawn together in frustration and confusion, his face flushed with heat, sweat starting to gather along his hairline, and his lips—red and kiss-swollen—were parted.

"I... I have my period."

He blinked, then tilted his head slightly like he couldn't understand why that would matter. His hand slid back down, cupping you through the fabric of your underwear, right over your pad. You gasped, the heat of his touch making your body tense with shame and anticipation. Your cheeks flared hot with embarrassment.

"I-It's not clean," you whispered, voice wavering. "It's messy..."

"And?" he muttered, his gaze never left your face. Without waiting for your approval, his hand dipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, carefully maneuvering around the pad as his fingers brushed against your pussy.

His finger slipped in, and your jaw dropped open, a soft cry catching in your throat. The feeling was slow, filling, a deliberate push deeper until he bottomed out and curled his finger inside you, testing your sensitivity. "You know," he began, "orgasms help relieve cramps. The body releases endorphins that ease pain. It's not gross... it's your body asking for what it needs."

You whimpered, unable to argue. Especially not when his finger began to move—slow at first, then building pace, retreating and sinking back in until your hips were grinding helplessly against his palm. Each stroke hit something deeper than just your body, pulling breathy moans from your throat.

"S-Sunoo—" you choked, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. His other hand slid up your shirt again, pushing the fabric away so he could lean in and press his mouth to your chest. His lips wrapped around the soft swell of your breast, and the sharp contrast of your piercing against his tongue made him groan. "I-It's gross."

"No, it's not." He whisper, biting your neck, tongue swirling at it, he mumbled against your skin before adding another finger, spreading you wider. "It's hot. You're hot."

Your only answer was a louder moan, your thighs trembling as you rode his fingers, your body clenching around him. The pressure inside you coiled tighter and tighter, until everything snapped all at once. You came hard, body clenching around him as your head tilted back, breath stuttering and vision swimming.

Sunoo shifted you easily, guiding your body until you were bent over the couch, his grip firm and sure as he moved you exactly how he wanted. But then he stilled, breath catching when his eyes landed on your back. His palm slid over your spine, tracing the ink.

"Fuck," he hissed. You felt the way his fingers trembled slightly, how he cupped your hips and coaxed you into an arch, dragging his touch down the trail of black lines and crimson lilies that ran from your shoulder blades to the curve of your lower back. "You always know how to drive me crazy... and now you go and get this?"

You tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked sound as he pulled your pants lower, exposing the heat between your legs. He groaned behind you, dragging the tip of himself along your entrance, already soaked and messy, your blood mixing with everything else. It should've made you feel embarrassed but instead, it only made the tension between you burn hotter.

"Please," you breathed, turning your head just enough to look at him over your shoulder.

Sunoo didn't need to be told twice. He eased into you slowly, his body pressing close, chest flush against your back as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, anchoring you to him. His breath stuttered against your skin, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he moved deeper, his other hand gripping your waist so tightly.

Your eyes caught sight of his hand, streaked with red from earlier, and instead of disgust, all you felt was a strange kind of thrill that twisted low in your belly. You clenched around him involuntarily, another moan slipping from your lips.

He kissed your jaw, then your cheek, then finally your mouth again, hungrily this time, tongue sliding against yours as his hips found a faster rhythm. His hands trembled where they held you, but his movements were certain, desperate. "Ah—fuck—I love you," he gasped, his voice cracking open as the pace quickened. "I love you so much. So fucking much."

Your breath caught, heart slamming in your chest. "Sunoo—wait—" your voice was barely audible between moans, "you're not wearing—ah—no condom—!"

He stilled for a second, his breath rough in your ear. But instead of pulling away, he leaned in closer, murmuring, "I know."

Your pussy clenched around him on instinct, as if reacting to the rawness of it all, to the fact that he was really inside you like this. The feeling of his bare cock dragging against your soaked walls was overwhelming, hotter, slicker. Your eyes rolled back as a loud moan escaped your throat, your fingers tightening on whatever they could grab.

"F-fuck," he whimpered, as your walls fluttered around him. Sunoo sounded like he was unraveling in real time. His hands gripped your waist harder, his breath shaking as he slowly pushed back in, deeper this time. He whined against your skin, overwhelmed, almost breathless at how good it felt. "I missed you. Missed this—missed you so fucking much."

His voice cracked, raw emotion bleeding into every word. "Don't leave again, hmm? Please. I'll treat you better this time. I swear—I love you. Fuck, I love you. I'm so fucking in love with you."

He didn't give you time to answer. His fingers slid down between your thighs, finding your clit without hesitation, rubbing slow, dizzying circles that made your knees buckle. His cock hit your g-spot mercilessly and your voice broke into a scream, loud and unfiltered, but you didn't care—the music room was soundproof, and even if it wasn't, you wouldn't have stopped him.

"S-Sunoo—I'm gonna cum," you choked out, your voice hoarse, hips jerking uncontrollably from the way his fingers pressed harder into your clit. Your pussy clenched down around him, and the orgasm crashed into you so fast it nearly knocked you off your feet. Your whole body shook and your thighs quivered, but Sunoo held you tight through it, one hand gripping your waist as the other kept you grounded, kept fucking into you with more force, chasing his own high.

"God, I love you, my baby," he whined. His hips started stuttering, the sound of skin slapping echoing faintly against the padded walls, getting messier, needier. "C-can I cum inside you? Please—let me?"

You couldn't speak at first, just nodded frantically, your fingers digging into his arm where it hugged around your waist. "Yes," you breathed, still panting, "Yes, yes—Sunoo, please—cum in me. I love you."

He let out the loudest, rawest moan of the night, something close to a sob, his whole body tensing as he came hard. You could feel it flood inside you, the warmth of it thick and hot as he kept fucking you through it, like he couldn't stop, like he needed to push it deeper, make sure it stayed.

Even after he was spent, his hips kept rocking slowly into you. His cum leaked around his cock, dripping down your thighs, and still he stayed buried inside, forehead resting against your shoulder, breath warm on your skin.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment, just the sound of ragged breathing filling the space between kisses—gentle ones now. He kissed your neck, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. "I love you," he murmured, then kissed your temple, eyes shut, holding you.

You turned in his arms, legs shaky, body still pulsing from the aftershocks, and cupped his face with both hands, pulling him into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. "I love you too," you whispered.

EPILOGUE

Sunoo made his way to the stage with a confidence he hadn't felt in a long time, holding up his medal and certificate for the photographer with a proud grin. Applause echoed through the auditorium, and for a moment, all the weight he had carried over the years—every sleepless night, every self-doubt, every quiet breakdown—seemed worth it. Sitting down on the chair at the side of the stage, his heart swelled with something deeper than relief. He wasn't just happy—he felt fulfilled. Things were finally going his way, and more than that, he had done it on his own terms.

"You look so good—God, I love your makeup!" Giselle said beside him, nudging him with her shoulder. He turned to her with that signature Sunoo smile, wide and sweet. "Your blush is perfect. It suits you so well," she added.

He smiled softly, cheeks glowing with more than just the highlighter dusted on them. "Thanks. My girlfriend did my makeup."

Giselle blinked, then gasped. "Wait—did I hear that right?"

Sunoo didn't respond, just chuckled to himself. When the program ended and the crowd was released into the open hall, he barely waited before slipping into the crowd, eyes scanning eagerly for one person. He weaved through clusters of families and graduates, ignoring the flashes of cameras, until his eyes finally landed on you. His whole face lit up instantly.

Without a second thought, he squealed and ran straight into your arms, wrapping you in a tight, all-consuming hug. You squealed too, and the sound made a few people turn their heads, curious. But Sunoo didn't care. You were in his arms, and that was all that mattered.

"Congratulations, my love!" you beamed, pinching both his cheeks before kissing his forehead.

He immediately slapped your hands away with a playful pout. "Stop! You're gonna mess up my makeup."

You laughed and leaned in. "I could always retouch it, dummy. I was the one who did it, remember?"

Sunoo squinted, finally taking a proper look at you now that he wasn't rushed or nervous. You had left before him earlier, after helping with his look, and now he was seeing you fully—your hair tied neatly in a bun, soft clean makeup that felt too tame for you, and a bright, modest outfit that covered every inch of your skin.

His gaze lingered. "You... took off your piercing?"

You nodded and gave a small shrug, your smile faltering. "Yeah. I figured... maybe you'd want me to look presentable today. Like, for your big day. It felt like the right thing to do."

He tilted his head slowly, eyes narrowing as he looked you over again. "Presentable?" he repeated. "I love the way you look with your piercings on, your tattoos showing, your red lipstick. That's you."

Your chest tightened, emotion catching in your throat so fast you couldn't even respond with words. Instead, you stepped forward and hugged him again, burying your face into his neck as your arms wound around his waist. "I love you," you whispered against his skin.

Sunoo's eyes widened slightly. Then slowly, he melted into your hug, wrapping his arms around you just as tightly. He rested his chin on your shoulder, and for a moment. "I love you more," he murmured softly. Then, pulling back a little to meet your eyes, his brows furrowed. "Wait—did I make you feel like I didn't want you to be yourself? Like I was forcing you to be someone else? I'm sorry."

You shook your head, tears beginning to pool despite the smile on your lips. "No... It wasn't you. I just... I didn't want to mess anything up today. I thought maybe if I toned myself down, it'd be easier."

Sunoo's eyes shone with emotion as he wiped your tears with his thumbs. "You could never mess anything up just by being yourself," he whispered. "Especially not with me. I want you loud, and messy, and bright. I want you with the piercings, with the tattoos, with whatever the hell makes you feel like you. That's the person I want beside me, every day. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like I was changing you. Forgive me, hmm?"

You leaned into his touch, forehead resting against his. "Then I'll never tone myself down again."

"Good," he smiled, brushing a kiss to your nose. "Because we've got a lot more milestones coming. And I want all of them with the real you."

You laughed lightly, the tension in your chest finally melting as you cradled his face. "Our only problem now is how to tell Jake without him fainting."

That made Sunoo snort before leaning in again to kiss you properly, his smile still pressed to your lips. You could hear a few surprised gasps from the crowd nearby, but you didn't care—and clearly, neither did he.

"It's fine," he whispered playfully, nuzzling close again. "We'll just plan a sleepover. That way, when he faints, we'll already be somewhere private... and have all the time in the world to celebrate without interruptions."

You smirked, squeezing his hand as it found yours. "I have a gift for you later when we get home."

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he raised a brow. "Hmm... A blowjob?"

You gave his shoulder a soft shove, rolling your eyes with a laugh. "No, not that, idiot."

He broke into a laugh too, the sound warm and carefree, then reached for your waist and pulled you in close again. His hand rested securely there, thumb drawing small circles, grounding you both in that moment. "Thank you for loving me as I am," he whispered against your ear. "Even on the days I forget how to love myself."

You leaned in, letting your head fall against his shoulder, smiling as his lips pressed a kiss to your temple. "I love you in every version of you, Sunoo," you whispered, and you meant every word.

The two of you continued walking hand in hand through the crowd. And if someone had asked you what you were feeling at that exact moment you would've said that you were in love. You were content, completely at peace with who you were and who you were becoming. And more than anything, you were happy, so much more happier than ever. Because Sunoo was beside you.

END.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

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fic taglist: underyang v1shwa-xo kittyhoon engeneheree searenjun amorlisha smarteoasis seongiewon sofiafromvenus nyxtwixx annovaz schniti-is-in-the-house sbijks lovingjongseong beaepa nuggets4lifers

[tyunningism]

͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏💞 ⟡ ͏˚｡⋆ ᴄʏʙᴇʀ sᴇx ⟡*₊˚💞

── .✦ pairing: c.bg x reader

Stepping over the boundary of 'friends' is your forte. The two of you are always meddling into the grey area where there’s no fine line between flashing each other for fun and actually hanging out. Just walking in on one of your conversations feels like an echo chamber of gradually lame inside jokes and dirty innuendos. So it’s no surprise that you’re video calling him at 2 in the morning with a hand preoccupied. Besides, a bit of cyber sex is nothing compared to whatever you and Beomgyu share with each other.

╰┈➤MDNI - NSFW content ahead... …or in simple words…ғᴡʙ!ʙᴇᴏᴍɢʏᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ft. fwb!Taehyun ᝰ.ᐟ wc - 20.6k

warnings!! and mentions!! switch!gyu (predominantly sub leaning) x reader, mutual masturbation, unprotected p in v, riding, sex over the phone and video calls, fwb!Taehyun x reader smut scene, sexual jokes, voyeurism, minor jealousy, fingering, oral!m rec, handjob, cum eating, instances where reader's sex tapes are shared, profanities, petnames, praise kink, whiny gyu agenda, creampie, light pinching and dacryphilia, gyu and reader work at a store <3

tyunningism's note: Very much delayed ackkk I'm sorry! But my Beomgyu redemption fic is finally here, and I hope my readers enjoy this new work hehe <3 (I have to add Taehyun in everywhere, he just reminds me so much of the virgin formula tyun and I love it gosh)

Beomgyu’s heard it all before. You know, the short-lived but nevertheless ‘juicy’ details of your private life. From dick size right down to the wacky kinks, he’d need another set of hands to count all your misfortunes and jackpots when it comes to your pound-town of a bed. That’s what six months of being packed with you into working the 5 to 9 shift has bestowed upon him: a listening ear to your oversharing. If only… he could put all that effort into his scut work instead of blabbering back about twice as much.

Normally, any other person has a secret they’d carry to the grave without making a peep; in his eyes you’re totally transparent. You wear your heart on your sleeve all year round, and your tits, but that came from you, not him. Even so, Beomgyu had to learn the hard way that trusting friends with secrets is a fragile concept he shouldn’t underestimate. The time Soobin snooped through his phone ended up with his nudes on the screen and his best friend retching on the floor mere seconds later. He doesn’t need to get into the gritty details to explain that it was a tough pill to swallow. He figured it’d be better to speak with no filter than be caught trying to filter it out for everyone’s sake.

Being so open with each other never failed to lift a burden off your chests though. Whether it was about a customer giving either of you the hots, or the other end of the extreme, in which you’d both cuss out any of the pricks you encountered behind their back. It just never crossed his mind that your oversharing sessions could ever… backfire.

“Didn’t see you pay for that at the till.”

He raises his head just enough to narrowly avoid a sure-to-be-sore collision with the upper shelf, eyebrows raised as he turns towards the scoff in your voice. You didn’t need to point a finger directly at it for him to realise you’re doubting the opened can of beer that’s magically found its way in his hands.

“Awh-fuck. Must’ve picked it up without thinking after I restocked the beverages.” Beomgyu gives a half laugh, transcending back into the low hum his voice is permanently altered to whenever he’s lost sleep.

You’re hauling another crate of vitamins and over-the-counter pills when it lands with a thump on the floor, wiping your forehead glistening with mild sweat with the back of your hand. “Yeah, you look like you need it.” Your thumb rubs over the braille on the packaging as you set the boxes of pills on the shelves. “Haven’t seen you look so shit since Soobin crashed your Ford.”

Standing around with a can of beer while you worked your back out trying to fill up the very back of the shelves only made him feel worse. He rubs his temples and takes the first sip of the night, knowing that glugging it down would only make the pounding in his head worse. “I-I know I usually talk more. Sorry, this must be bori—"

“Usually you don’t make stupid mistakes like dumping all of the Viagra stock on the shelf that clearly reads ‘vinegar’ Gyu.” It’s obvious you had more to pick on him for, but the shortage of breath from having to squat and stand up to empty the crate onto the shelves is tedious work. “It’s like you read condoms instead of condiments on the aisle sign.”

He blinks twice, then tightens his grip on the can until the metal indents with his fingers, and takes a larger sip.

“You actually did, didn’t you?” A kick to the half-full crate, mounted with piles of painkillers, causes it to slide across and land before his feet. “You’re lucky the pharmacists haven’t caught your ass for that.”

“Sounds like you’re saying I need another drink.” A lazy smile unfolds over his face, enough to flash his teeth but not enough to drawl out the endearing smile lines you’re used to seeing. Until disaster strikes again, and suddenly the tired lean of his head against the shelf is too much weight, knocking the vitamin gummies at the very top down to the floor.

“I’m saying that you should clock out early and sleep. I’ll cover for both of us for the rest of the shift, and I’ll pay for the beer since I love you so much.” Jokingly, your shoulder nudges his as you stack his crate of toothpaste onto your crate of vitamins.

Saying ‘love you too’ feelings-free wasn’t difficult back then, not like it is now. His throat dries up not because he’s exhausted and dehydrated, but because he’s never hid anything from you when you’re so used to sharing everything with each other.

“No, it’s fine I just—” a sigh leaves him, “I’ve been stressed.”

“Stressed? What…like, can’t get your dick wet?” This is how it should be. Laughing, cracking jokes, gossiping about whose sex tape was leaked by their best friend. But he doesn’t return the light-heartedness at all, awkwardly rubbing strands of his hair between his thumb and index.

“Y-yeah, something like that.”

The pause between you dwells for longer than he’d like; he watches the cogs in your head turn as you think of something borderline serious, even if it’s unlikely. “Get someone to stroke your shit then, you’re starting to sound like Micropeen Mateo.”

No one wants to delve into the history behind your disappointing ex unless you’re using it against Beomgyu whenever he’s whining on. For all he knows, Mateo’s tried harder to find a hookup than he’s ever had.

“The girl I usually see cut it off with me last week. She’s moving to the inner city.” Stumbling from the weight beginning to pile up on his hands, he attempts to set down the bottles of vitamin gummies you’ve picked off the floor from the accident nearby.

“Ooh! I liked her, the hot girl from Nepal who gave me her lip combo? Can’t believe you bagged her in the first place.” You observe the knit in his brows displaying the hurt he took to your obvious banter, which makes you turn away from him awkwardly as you finish your tasks.

You squat to pick up the last bottle of gummies. Your eyes flit between hurling it towards your co-worker, whose hands are full, and passing it directly to him as you have already been. It’s around then that your mind finds a better idea, a generous offer to help your good friend.

“Y’know, you can always ask me for help.”

Faced with your back, Beomgyu can barely grasp whether you were dead serious or joking without the aid of your expressive face. Like you dropped this entire bomb on him without warning, and he’d rather accept his fate than ask you for clarity to defuse it.

“Hah..ha…hah, HAH… holy fuck, that’s the first time you’ve ever been funny.” He tries to laugh it off, aggressively or not doesn’t matter, playing off the absurdity of your proposal with a couple of slaps to your arm as you turn back to face him.

Everything about you is composed. Not laughing alongside him even in an empty store, and to make things clearer, your hands cross under the swell of your chest as if you wanted him to take you seriously. Even if it really only brought attention to your tits instead of the adamant look on your face.

“I’m being serious Gyu, if all you need is a handjob to be functioning on something other than beer, I’ll do it.” The way your words seamlessly roll off your tongue can make even the vulgarest of sentences seem as natural as a simple ‘hello.’

You didn’t even stammer when you spoke. Now you were left waiting for him to speak up as unaffected as you are while you bat your lashes at him. On purpose? He can’t tell.

In hopes that the two sips of beer he had are enough to justify the blush creeping across his cheeks, he attempts to maintain eye contact with you as though his boxers aren’t suffocating around the growing boner he’ll have to pull his shirt over. If only you hadn’t sent one last blow to knock him over for good, pink tongue sticking out with a finger pointed at the wet muscle.

“Taehyun says I’m good at giving blowjobs too.”

Beomgyu swears he doesn’t mean to, but he clicks his tongue at the name anyway. Taehyun has grown accustomed to the slightly sour tinge in the roof of his mouth when he hears it. Sure, he’s never met the guy in the flesh, but he can piece together a decent image from the details in your exaggerated storytelling.

Truthfully, he’s never cared for the ins and outs of whoever you were sleeping with, because by the time it reaches your routine shift together, you’d have retold everything to him like he cuckolded the actual thing. Not that he’d mind if you suggested the idea. After all, it wouldn’t be exclusive between the two of you, and neither is it exclusive between you and Taehyun.

“The new roommate you slept with the second he moved in?” You’re applying red discount stickers straight off the roll when he says it, bottom lip tucked under the other, while you recall the memory.

“Mhm, and every other week since. He’s good at it Gyu,” he watches intently as you bend your middle and ring finger and rub the air in circular motions, “you’d understand if you saw him. Were you even listening to anything I told you on Monday?”

Tell him about it; he hasn’t been focused on anything you’ve told him this week. “The way you describe him makes me feel like a fucking chud jeez.” Taking the roll of stickers out of your palm, he peels about three and sticks them onto his fingers, plastering one on your forehead and the rest on the whitening strips instead of the toothpaste.

“Well then, chud. As I was saying on Monday, Taehyun and I tried masturbating togeth—”

“And?” Beomgyu huffs as he starts plastering discount stickers on everything that shouldn’t have— it makes you wonder how he’s not fired yet. But he’s charmed enough regulars to put in a good word for him to get away with virtually anything; he’s ‘eye-candy’ to be precise.

“— And it’s hot. So you should try it with me.”

Everything else became a blur after you left, subconsciously blocked out, even if he’s certain what you had to say was important. It just wasn’t important to Beomgyu when you’ve enticed him with something purely theoretical at the moment. Stay here for any longer than 6 minutes and 28 seconds, and he’s a goner. Poor guy’s been uncomfortably shifting in his pants since you went off to clean the store about 20 minutes ago.

It doesn’t help that he’s been ogling at you from afar as you locked up the tills. Within the time that’s passed you’ve tied back your hair, snuck yourself a lolly from the jar by the register, and scanned ‘n paid for your microwavable dinner tonight. For two, he notices.

The red flush inevitably grows on his face as he imagines it before him. Stepping into your apartment, feet tangling with your panties on the floor, and you lifting your shirt for real this time instead of joking that you will.

Is he some sort of sick perv? Yes, no…maybe? He shifts the blame onto being pent up, not because it’s you or anything akin. This feeling of being desperate makes him all the worse. Especially when the drool from his mouth leaks onto his uniform after being hypnotised by the way your lips purse around the tip of the lollipop, tongue swirling around the protruding rim, then sucking it whole. There’s only so much imagination needed to make it seem as lewd as it is in Beomgyu’s eyes.

“Gross dude. I know you guys have sex and all but it’s Thursday. This whole eye fucking thing you’ve got going on is unsexy.”

If there was one way to describe the look on Beomgyu’s face, it’s that he looks like he’s seen a ghost from how shrill he yelps seeing the dirty blonde come into view.

“Shit— you scared the crap out of me! And we aren’t fuck—”

“—We aren’t what? What are you and Jjun talking about?”

All colour drains from his face as he sees you pop your head around the other end of the aisle. In hand, you’ve bunched up your keys and his, a coat half pulled over yourself with the other sleeve still hanging. You fuss over the fact that it’s time to clock off as you tap your finger against the imaginary watch on your wrist.

“Let Yeonjun take care of closing up tonight. Unless you don’t want to come.”

“C-Cum?”

“Come with.” You mouth a soft ‘thank you’ in the other male’s direction before recklessly tossing over Beomgyu’s car keys. A small giggle emits from you watching him stumble to try catch them, oblivious to how hard he’s trying to multitask with catching the keys in one hand and pulling his shirt over his boner with the other.

Like some lost puppy he follows right after you, not beside but behind, accidentally stepping onto your heel whenever he mismatches your pace. You don’t even question him as you walk out of the store and into the parking lot, until you spot his busted-up Ford—that’s in desperate need of a trip down to the mechanics—parked miles away from your own Chevrolet.

“Need something from me Gyu?” Your head cocks as you climb into the driver’s seat, locking him out before he could even make his rounds to the passenger door while you roll down a window to talk to him.

Speechless is an understatement. Well, you told him you’d help him out if he needed it, no? He can barely make sense of why you’re as visibly confused as he is, biting apart the remains of your lollipop while the bare stick twirls between your fingers.

“Y-you were going to h-help me…with that thing.” The worst you could do is change your mind and tell him no, and give him time to wallow and wail over it later in his own front seat. Not cocking your head to the side and acting like you’re clueless when he’s been thinking about your offer for the past hour in the most degenerative state of his twenties.

Caught you right in the action, he did. He heard the little lies slipping past your tongue to rile him up. He let you roll back up your window with a laugh, pushing his buttons further as your voice grew muffled through the glass. “Ohmygod speak up Gyu! What thing?”

“I’m going to pop your tyre if you make me say this out loud—” Saying it’s cold in the parking lot is the equivalent of agreeing to the fucking allegations between you, not quite there yet, but sitting on the border. Mainly because in Beomgyu’s books it’s fucking freezing, a chill he can’t just shrug off, but leaves him shivering enough to want to screw over your offer and head straight towards his car.

Your hand cups behind your ear as you lean closer against the window, a lengthy ’huhh?’ dragged out just about loud enough for him to hear, and cuss at you over. “I didn’t get that Gyuuu!—”

“—You told me you were gonna help me rub one out or something!” The car rocks slightly as he thumps his forehead against the frame of the driver’s door. An arm tucked beneath his face to hide the blush spreading as he leans, unsure of whether opening his eyes to see your reaction or continuing to shy away in humiliation would give him less of a headache.

“Beomgyu! Don’t say that out loud!” The tiny glint in the smile of your eye tells it all, that you knew what he was getting at from the start, and he’s fallen a pawn into your own amusement. “How do I put this? I mean, we live on opposite ends of the city Gyu and you know how much I complain about the fuel for this thing. Just thought you’d catch on…that I wanted to do it over the phone. It’ll be easier.”

“O-over the...phone? Yeah— over the phone, that’s cool, fine uh— do I c-call you or?” Luck is always on the course to mess around with Beomgyu at the worst possible moments, including now as he stutters over each syllable, thoughts still processing in his head mid-sentence.

“Then call me tonight. I’ll be trying on the new lingerie I bought from Spencer’s if that helps you with anything.”

Shooting himself in the foot is all that Beomgyu’s ever known to do. Biting down on his nails but not chewing, eyes glued to your contact page on his screen while his fingers are set in stone. Minutes pass into hours, the small 22:00 in the corner winds back to 00:00, and by then he doubts you’ll even be awake to answer his procrastination-delayed call.

Hell, he doubts he can even remember how many times he’s stumbled out of bed to press his face flat against the mirror. Fingers rubbing over the rough stubble growing in, wetting the tip of his finger to slick back the stray strand he’s never able to tame for long. He looks a mess, and a desperate one at that. Still clad in his uniform when it clicks in his head that he should change, shower, flip his apartment upside down until it’s spotless before even bothering to dial you at this hour.

It's nothing but a voice call; it’s not like you’ll be able to see him anyway. Yet Beomgyu knows all too well how real it’ll start to feel once the buzz of your voice through the speaker brushes over his ear. He’d hate for you to see him squirm at the edge of the bed, nodding eagerly for no one but himself to observe in the mirror, the thought alone making him blush from the chin up.

Grinning like an idiot with his phone idle and right against his ear, his fantasy is cut short by his ringtone, a call sent from your end as he takes note of the round profile on display. You’re smiling gently, with your best friend’s face popping out in the corner to meddle in the photo, and for a second it’s too dirty to think about. Plastering your face on top of a body wearing lingerie seems unnaturally lewd, despite your mouth being the filthiest cove of words he’s ever heard. So he lets his phone ring for a millisecond longer, legs dangling off the bed as he hunches to press the phone closer against his ear to fend off anyone else from the luxury of hearing your voice in the late hours of night.

“Hey.” Beomgyu bites on the knuckle of his thumb, eyes screwed shut as if that would be any help to drowning out your simple greeting.

The traces of sleep that still lag your speech are apparent. Soft groans and mumbled words that enter through one ear and come out the other once it’s passed by his dick first. No one’s to blame him for thinking you’d forgotten about the offer for real this time when you’re still stirring awake.

“Couldn’t call any later Gyu. I dozed off on my bed in this…” your voice pauses, the softest snap of a band just about audible in the background, “lingerie waiting for you to call you know.”

“Y-yeah my bad, I was busy with something—”

“—Whoaa, really Gyu?? You got a head start on jerking off?” The sarcasm drips in your tone, honeyed and raspy as your giggles sound out the white noise in his room, and it turns him on more than it should.

“Where did you get that from? I-I’m not even hard yet.” With that, he plummets back onto his bed, arms spread out to give him more space to breathe before draping a backhand across his forehead.

“Should’ve taken the Viagra you misplaced if you needed help getting it up.” You’re soothing him as you speak, light hearted and playful enough to ease his nerves from sky high to still terribly high. “Would photos help?”

And then sky high again.

“Photos? Like, nudes?” Beomgyu’s speech slurs from word to word, gulping down every inch of embarrassment starting to seep in and pigment his cheeks a rosy hue. Who could’ve guessed that you’re an expert at leaving people hanging? Because as you hum into your phone, he’s listening and wide-eyed with a palm situated over his mouth to muffle the small whine that leaves him.

“I’d be impressed if you could get hard from photos of what I had for lunch.”

The buzz of a notification leaves him unsure of how to function. Whether it’s to check your message head first without warning, or mutter a cheesy thank you beforehand. It’s difficult for him not to have his hopes up when you’ve been leaving smidges and crumbs for him to fall apart in your hands like mush. In his head, that sort of reality isn’t far off Heaven, and as he opens up your message on the display of his phone he can only conjure a single semi-decent thought.

Tempting’s just too weak of a word.

Covered in nothing but a tight-fitted tank, the fabric bunches together into fine lines that carve out the swell of your tits. The lighting in your room isn’t the clearest. Slightly fuzzy areas of shadow and dull ambience from the lamp balanced on your nightstand, draping your skin in warmer, gentle hues. Your legs cross over each other, panties pulled down to just above one knee, torturing him with the urge to pry them open. Tempting him with the thought of how the flesh of your thighs would spill between his fingers, plush and pudgy where it’s softest.

Insignificant little details that may have slipped from your memory, he remembers. From the butterscotch lotion you snuck home with your employee discount, imagining how you’d rub down the inside of your thighs with the off-white cream. Right down to memorising your evening routine, and how furiously he blushed when you admitted to wearing nothing to sleep solely for comfort.

Little by little, his eyes trace over how your thighs smush together, the subtle rise of your chest that makes you appear as breathless and needy as he is. Perhaps you didn’t intend on it when you snapped a photo of something so suggestive, but with all his attention focused on you, it’s a total loss to look over the lacey lingerie peeking from under your top’s straps. Somewhere in between pink and white, the see-through fabric only amplifies his perverse desires. So much so that he nearly misses the muffled whimper in his ear.

Beomgyu doesn’t mean to parade on whatever you’re up to now that the line’s gone…quiet. But the sloshing that seeps into the audio of your mic opens you up to being read like a book. A part of him wants to break the chain of muted whines to ask if you’ve slipped in a finger or two yet. If you’re soaked enough for your fingertips to become prune-like and drenched in your juices, if you could lick down your digits and tell him how you taste.

“Gyuuu? You’ve gone silent again— don’t tell me you’re still looking at the picture.” The drag of his name enters the territory of a whine, catching him off guard as his vision unblurs from a lustful focus on your waist to the call icon hung at the top of his screen.

“S-sorry I forgot—” It would’ve saved his pride by an inch if he wasn’t turned on so easily by an amateur picture of your top half clad and your thighs crossed tight enough to hide it all. He’s seen filthier things: cunts gaping with cum he could only dream of being his, silicone sex dolls tearing apart from brute force, voice-guided masturbations from his ex-favourite fem-dom creator, who he suddenly grew tired of. Though none of them have pushed him to the extent where he can see the patch of precum leaking through his boxers, beading from his tip in generous enough intervals to soak through his thick sweats and leave them pathetically stained—nothing like what your photos do to him.

“Hard yet?” The sultry façade of your tone targets straight for his cock, the mass twitching in the restraints of his boxers.

“Y-yeah. I’m hard thanks..f-for the—”

“Let me see Gyuuu, come on! You told me you were pretty well off down there.” The buzz of your camera turning on tickles his ear, thoughts fluctuating between whether it’d be safe to bring his phone to his face or if he’d cum on the spot alone.

“This is different!” Your chuckles at him only make the heat spread across his face like a wildfire. Each staccato syllable of your laugh contributes to another bead of precum as it oozes from his slit, cockhead too sensitive to push his boxers past and relieve himself.

“You wanted to try out this whole masturbating together thing, didn’t you? When Taehyun’s away at the gym, he likes it when I guide him through the camera.”

“O-okay, I got it!” Beomgyu’s palms sweat with a nervous clamminess, gulping down the drool beginning to swash in his mouth as he observes the way you’ve positioned your phone.

You’re leaning against your headrest, knees bent, and legs opened wide enough for everything to be on display if only it weren’t for the hand shielding your dripping folds. A small pool of your juices staining the bedsheets is barely visible with the light emitted from your screen, turning the white sheets grey as you fiddle with your lingerie. The fabric protrudes where your nipples perk, the thin mesh grazing over the sensitive nubs as soft moans collapse from your lips.

Seeing you already prepared and past the awkward stage of fiddling with what angle works best, Beomgyu can only settle for flipping to his back camera to direct it at the rough bulge in his pants. He tries to shuffle away his fingers so you can’t poke fun at how they’re burning pale from how hard he’s digging his nails into the mattress, trying to make sense of the situation in his head and trick him into feeling natural. Even if nothing about stroking his cock to his co-worker playing with herself is natural to begin with.

“Whoa fuck— you’re not a minute man are you? Looks like you shot a load already with all that precum,” your thighs visibly tense up as you take him in, the shyness hitting him as he chews on the inside of his cheek, “wanna see it, take it all off.”

“I-I can’t— feels sensitive, I don’t know it’s never felt this…close before.” The line enters silence again. With fingers tiptoeing past the waistband, your voice fading into the background until he could hear the shuffling of footsteps outside your room, and his own breath still hitching.

“Shit, you nearly just made me squirt.”

Stammering, only a few incoherent noises of jumbled words leave his mouth. Dizzy in his head and only growing harder despite it feeling impossible. Your eyes never left their station on his bulge, glistening obscenely as you observe the way the girth twitches profusely and shifts about in his grey boxers.

“I’ll give you a close-up of my pussy if you touch yourself for five seconds without cumming.” Everything that emerges from your lips is nothing short of nasty, the grossest set of words he’d only be able to hear from a porn jackpot, only to refresh the tab for it never to be seen again. He’s more than conscious of how badly he should be savouring this, not shy of a little edging if it means he can drag on the call for even a minute longer.

Without communicating another word, his fingers weakly grasp around the waistband. His thumbs fumble over the drawstrings, trying to undo the knot he wishes he’d done earlier with a singular hand. The camera shakes out of focus, placed down on the mattress face-first and left recording the ceiling.

Of course you were a tad disappointed in the loss of any action to satisfy you, other than the overhead lights in his room that remain unlit. Impatience is your biggest enemy, you’ve always thought, but for tonight it’s your greatest friend as you pester him to hurry.

Back camera, foggy. Lighting, about as bad as yours. Except you struck gold with the bed of hair intruding in the far corner. Face framing pieces fall into place as he runs a hand through his hair, the upwards angle catching a small glimpse of the jawline screwed in concentration. Eyebrows furrowing until they touched the brim of his lashes, a mere bead of sweat rolling down the end where it drew your attention to the slight hissing of clenched teeth.

Beomgyu is hot, that’s never been a secret. At least twelve of your friends have nudged your shoulder until it popped out of the socket just to pry for his number, and you can see it in their eyes that it’s not just his face that they’re after, but what he’s hiding under the belt too.

Guess you’re not any different from them after all, definitely not with how your pupils are zeroed in on the bob of his adam’s apple as he finally undoes the strings, and the small expression of clarity and relief in his slack jaw that follows after the series of grunts.

“Tied it too tight, I-I’ll leave it alone next time.”

“Next time?” You hum amusedly as you lock back into action, squeezing the hand between your thighs as you press them together.

Your usually talkative co-worker hesitates to even respond, embarrassment kicking in as he pans the camera towards lifting the restraints of his sweats and soiled boxers in a singular, shaky movement.

“Holy shit Gyu…” He’s already set on rehearsing his essay-length apology with a thumb hovered over the ‘hang up’ button, practically scratching at his thighs to be pressed. It doesn’t help that you don’t utter anything after, your own camera wobbling as your face comes into view, attempting to get a closer look.

In Beomgyu’s eyes, it wasn’t much— even if he talked big out of his ass to prove a point. Just a view of his cock leaking in the most virgin-like way he attests to, snug under his belly button before waning to the side as he twitches. He was somewhat confident with every booty call he’s shown up to, ending with a mantra of praises for his size alone, but he doubts he could live up to whatever Taehyun’s been feeding y—

“I-Is that real?” The zoom in of your face as you inch closer towards the screen for long enough to feel invasive only catalyses the blush spreading from his face to his chest. “You’re probably the biggest I’ve seen, well not seen, but— I mean, I could make a couple of guesses with the slacks you wear to…work.”

Theoretically speaking, what’s more detrimental to Beomgyu’s urge to cum untouched right now? He can’t pinpoint whether it’s the pride that fills him seeing your tongue dart out to lick the drool leaking from your lips, or how you moan on cue as the lighting finally reveals the singular vein running down the side.

“So the entire month that I spent scrolling for a good dildo, you didn’t even nominate yourself to help? I thought we were closer than this Gyu.” Retreating to the backrest again, you smile softly while a finger brushes over the lingerie mesh covering your nipples.

“That’s crossing the line! What if you were grossed out? H-how am I ever going to work a shift with you again?” The patch of skin on his abdomen glistens with the precum continuing to leak, the rounded cockhead bouncing lightly against his skin.

“And talking about your diehard praise kink isn’t? Come on, don’t act like you weren’t jerking off to my voice when I called you after I posted those bikini pics.”

A shooting star must’ve passed by just now, and Beomgyu’s just wished for a ditch for him to bury himself in. You didn’t even call him out or act with any indifference. Could you blame him for thinking he was slick with it? “That was one time!”

“Mhm, you really like being whiny for a guy you know. Why don’t you put all that energy into touching your cock like a good boy? I gave you five seconds, remember?”

On command, he doesn’t bother to put up a fight. His free hand moves in time with your approving hums, amplified by the soft gasps from both of you when his fingers finally wrap around the base.

“S-shit— how do I—?”

“That’s right. Guide your first upwards, press against the slit and promise me you won't cum.” Only dread awaits him from here; he knows he won’t be able to hold back from whatever unfolds next if he obeys. Though he listens and follows attentively anyway.

His thumb hovers dangerously close over the slit, enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body as he hesitates. “C-can’t…I’ll cum too fast and then—”

“Three…two…”

Your countdown eggs him on. Choosing between the dirtier of the two evils means giving in to your instructions, hoping that you’ll give him another chance to redeem himself for such short lived bliss.

Neither of you could tell if it was even caught on camera, or at least visible, from how quickly he retracts his thumb after pushing down on the slit. The male lurches forward with his phone, shaking from the weak grip in his hand. The nerves in his cock tingle sensitively as blood flows without warning and flushes his tip a rosy pink. It takes more than a couple seconds for him to regain his train of thought, the orgasm on the brink of occurring flashing before his mind as he sighs nervously.

“I think you’re deserving of the reward I promised you earlier, hm?” Cooing at him, you spread open your legs again as you tease him with the slowest drag of your hand, unveiling nothing he hasn’t seen already as you delay the reveal.

“Please—”

Beomgyu swears with a cross on his heart that he didn’t mean to come off so desperate as a high-pitched mewl. Although sounding desperate was the least of his worries. Especially when all he could react with to seeing your dripping folds, spread open by the same fingers you touched him with at work earlier, was moaning at the top of his lungs for what felt like a minute straight.

Your fingers circle your clit, pinching at the sensitive bud whilst your other hand instinctively reaches up to appeal to your nipple. With every swipe of your fingers down your folds, they return with a new and thicker load of slick that pops and crackles through the audio.

“Feels s’ good—mngh— Wanna see you fuck your fist t’me getting off.” You pick up the pace by rubbing your clit, the nub growing puffy in real time as he watches you play with yourself. He catches on to the way you pinch at the flesh of your tits or your thighs whenever a surge of pleasure runs through you. Paying attention to each detail of how your back arches slightly and your chest heaves without mercy to catch more than just a shallow breath, pushing your mounds together to tease him tirelessly.

Within a matter of seconds, he’s following up. Giving no more than a couple of experimental strokes to ease the heightened sensitivity, gliding vertically down his cock with just the fingertips.

“Wish you were the one making me feel this good Gyu. Imagine it’s me jerking you off right now, wouldn’t I be going f-faster?”

The effect of your words on him leaves Beomgyu with no room to think for himself other than to listen to your sultry voice, like a siren luring him in with the lewdest gasps and soft pleas you meddle into your praises for him. His favourite being the way you gasp when his finger strokes up the vein and his entire cock throbs and twitches in response. Seeing how your jaw falls open into a breathy moan only makes him all the more curious about how pretty you’d look with your mouth around him.

“N-ngh— take it off p-please—”

Finally finding the courage to wrap his hand around his length completely, Beomgyu’s head throws back in pleasure as he chews on his bottom lip, eyes flitting down low enough to catch sight of how you slip down the lingerie, revealing the swell of your bare tits for him.

“Is that what you wanted Gyu? Being rewarded for touching yourself like a good whore? I’ll tell you all the things you wanna hear pretty.”

Fuck, if he could engrave one memory into his mind forever, it would be this. To frame it somewhere and grant a plaque in your name of all the filthy things you whisper in between the sound of your juices squelching as you flick and rub at your clit.

“Bet you wanna know how tight I’d feel when you’re inside me, I’ve never taken one as big as yours Gyu~” Appearing again, your two fingers spread apart your folds, revealing the way your hole starts to clench and gape open a tiny gap, fingertips caressing over your entrance as you whine out his name.

“N-no I can’t cum yet w-wait—!”

“Cumming already? Would a close-up help?”

Give him time to say no. Let him refuse and prove to you that he’s more than a minute man as long as you don’t zoom in. The hazy blur of pixels and slight lag on the screen is what’s keeping the sensual overload of the call rocking at bay; shuffle any closer to give him a better view, and he might empty his balls on his sheets by accident.

Time doesn’t rush you; the reward of an orgasm does. You shift your phone closer, resting it on its side with a fortress of pillows behind to support the weight, keeping it in focus and clear. Unlucky for him, the close and upfront view of your cunt acts as an invitation for him to bury his face in the heat between your legs, and it brings him to the edge, or already dangling off it.

Beads of sweat roll down the valley of your thighs, mixing with your wetness as your thighs squeeze together and rub from the touch of each circling finger. So brief he could’ve missed it, the sight of your slick stretching between the webs of your fingers. Strings of your juices snap apart as you spread out your greedy folds, clasping for the fist beyond the screen, brewing white at the knuckles to take over once your wrists start to ache.

“Hnnngh— b-been holding back too long, c-can’t!” Groaning, his slender fingers concentrate on the pink cockhead, flushing the same shade as the lipstick he gifted you, which you swore was too bright. Although the gift was put to use. Just for marking yourself in dirty, bold lettering to embody the whole ‘slutty’ look in the bedroom for fun, rather than dusting your lips in a shade even your mother refuses to touch.

“I’ll let you cum on my face if you stop muffling your moans Gyu. It turns me on when I hear how good I’m making your cock feel hmm?”

The comment by itself is enough for him to dig out his chin from his chest, his mouth catching pieces of fluff from his sweater as he tries to rinse the embarrassment dry. Letting out cute, little whimpers that wouldn’t have been caught by the mic if he had been any further from his phone, one by one.

“Nmph-mnngh— O-oh my god—” His vision crossfades until your face held above the camera covers the majority of his tunnelled sight. Your arm can be seen slightly jerking from the strain of your shoulder as you continue to fixate on releasing shortly after him. The loose strands of hair you clipped back at work earlier this morning now stick to your cheeks and forehead in a messy montage, curled ends reaching the corners of your lips as you gasp into a moan.

On purpose, you knit together your brows, squeezing and fluttering your eyes shut as you chew on the fat of your lip, whispering raspy mantras of his name that aggravate the pit of lust below his abdomen.

“C-cumming. O-oh my— oh shitt—!”

Mere seconds before release, he lowers his camera towards the sheets. A camera faced with nothing but bunched up wrinkles of white, with unrestrained grunts that could be heard in the background that made your core pulsate for him.

Beomgyu shudders as he strokes himself whole, thumb pressing against the sensitive vein from the base to the tip as he unloads his cum across your cheeks on the screen, cock twitching as he spots the way you loll your tongue out to catch his seed. The off-white appears grey as the light from his phone burns his eyes, and so does the image of his cum dripping down your cheeks in thick loads as you smile into the camera for him. Unpure at best, the deliberate gaze settles in your eyes, trying to harvest another round from him as you bat your lashes, still needing to cum yourself.

“Gonna need another load in you to spare until I c—”

Entering a silence he’s no stranger to once again, aside from his jagged panting, Beomgyu can barely adjust to the sudden relief in his eyes as the bright screen closes on its own. A relief that’s too short-lived when he can’t find the spread of your legs or your sweat-covered cheeks in front of him. He tries to knock the phone awake by tapping ruthlessly countless times, continuing long after it became hopeless.

“Charger— Charger…where the fuck’s my charger?!” There’s a guilt that doesn’t sit perfectly in his stomach. The regret of not being able to hold on to the one-time miracle of a call for long enough to see the face of pure ecstasy your features fold into when you’re feeling good.

Taking shortcuts, crawling along his bed flat on his stomach towards the other end, and fiddling with the tangled chargers he agreed to sort out two weeks ago. Still overly sensitive after coming down from his high, even the gentlest rub of fabric along his dick is enough for him to hiss out a half-whine.

Perhaps he should be investing in a new phone next, one that doesn’t die within seconds and doesn’t take centuries to charge, or meet him in the middle whenever he needs to go out for drinks late into the day. Has he ever considered religion as much as he does right now while praying that you haven’t given up and gone to bed unattended when he hung up without warning? Doubt it.

Fingers crossed too if that made any difference.

Blank loading screens have him on edge as they continue to stack on and delay the restart. By now you’d have probably pulled out the purple vibrator you were ranting to him about last week, come all over it in seconds like how you always praise it to do, and worst of all cuss him out for being an ass. A huge ass for dipping the second he cums like you’re fish food for every other pent-up loser whose fuck buddy left him, though he’ll have to explain the dead battery part before it leads to that.

Until the second his phone glows bright again, his lockscreen is covered by the swarm of your messages. Filled from top to bottom with ‘?’s and ‘what happened?’s until you gave up with a short and sourly sweet ‘goodnight gyu 💗.’ With courtesy of the heart you left next to it of course, until he sees the ‘nickname updated to selfish minute-man’ in fine print on his screen.

“I didn’t mean to hang up, you know that. My phone can’t be out of the vicinity of a charger for longer than five minutes.”

Stocking the shelves again— wasting another shift, and to make matters worse he has to make it up to you for leaving you hanging sober. He doesn’t even consider whether you’d offer to cover for his drink this time either. Hell, if you were really pissed about it, you might as well snitch for the beer he snuck on the clock last time, and Beomgyu wouldn’t dare to think of putting up a fight.

“And you should know that I’m not pissed at Gyu, promise! When you hung up I thought that…” Pausing, you examine his features carefully, as you have been for the past 5 minutes, poking fun at the sulky pout he’s subconsciously forming. You bump shoulders with him, carrying a bundle of packaged and sliced loaves to replace those on the verge of expiring, leaning into his ear to whisper something as you always do when it’s taboo to say in public. “I thought your cum got caught in your speaker and broke it Gyu—”

“Ergh— wait that tickles—!!”

By popular demand (you), you wished you had one of those video-recording glasses on hand to capture the way Beomgyu squirms away from the hot fanning of your breath against his ears. On the contrary, he’s much more opposed to how you don’t seem to ever have a reaction stored in you at all. Especially considering that you happen to both be working on a shift together when not even a day ago he was jerking off to you over a screen.

“If you’re feeling guilty because you didn’t see me finish then I don’t think you’re actually guilty, sounds more like perverted to me.”

Once again, it’s night and day between your individual shelves. Loaves packed and neatly shuffled into precise columns, versus the pastries he’s yet to have even touched, forget about restocking the shelf. He’s always slacking off around you. “Oh! And I finished with a little help anyway, so don’t worry that pretty head of yours around it before our revenue drops below break even.”

Way to go Beomgyu, always overcomplicating everything for himself. He knows better than to prod you on even further, like trying to light up a spark that’ll only end up setting off a firework in the end, not that it’ll stop him either way.

“Help?”

“I’m not sleeping through drenched panties Gyu. Not when Taehyun’s in the room opposite, I’d be stupid not to—”

“So, what exactly are you guys? Like…a thing? Oh god, don’t tell me you’re cheating on him by helping me get off.” About two steps in towards him to take matters into your own hands with stocking up the pastries, you don’t waste a second in flicking his forehead hard enough to burn a sigil for idiots on it. “Ow!— What the fuck?”

“Like hell we’d be a thing. I told you I thought he only liked guys when he first moved in. I mean…the stuff that Soobin guy says whenever he’s around gives me the creeps.” Beomgyu’s about to add in how your suspicions are more often than not baseless, but you seem to beat him to it with a finger pressed against his lips. The same fingers you were rubbing yourself with yesterday— webbed together by your slick. “Think of it as if Kai brought a guy back to your apartment, and you could hear him talking about how he likes to be punished and kicked around?! There’s no way you wouldn’t suspect something Gyu.Sounds like they’re discussing bedroom rules for hardcore shit to me.”

“Play detective all you’d like, but we talk about things like that too.” A small scowl leaves him as he rubs against the sore spot on his forehead. Reaching in to then tug gently on your ear to give the umpteenth mouthful about finding better evidence before accusing.

“Well I guess he’s only really had girlfriends— I’m getting distracted, aren’t I? Hff, it doesn’t even matter since we’re not each other’s type anyway. It won’t go further than some casual fucking.” Beomgyu blinks as if that’d help him to understand whatever spewed from your mouth, if it even processes in his head, that is. This whole ‘fucking without strings attached’ concept he can’t seem to grasp as loosely as everyone else does. And while it’s never been his intention to come off as easy, he’s already struggling to keep his heart in his chest after you called him.

“Right, you don’t even have photos of him in your camera roll—”

“—Okay, but how are you going to explain the dildo he keeps in his sock drawer?!”

22:15. Beomgyu should’ve been on the road ten minutes ago. With the radio repeating the one-hit wonder of the month as its lyrics are remixed by the static, and his box of takeout on the passenger seat, held still by his unoccupied hand, trying not to spill it all over.

Sometimes he’ll call. Ask Kai if he got into an argument with his girlfriend so he can stretch out his back before being left with the couch. Give his mom a quick dial to let her know his shift is over and that he’ll be coming home for the weekend. He’d call you once you hit the roads going 60, wringing out each and every last minute he could out of your day as you both drove home from work. Both rambling about whatever shitty customers you ran into in the hours you were stationed on opposite ends of the store, or something like that. In the same manner Saturdays always are.

Except this Saturday, for no other apparent reason but you. Where he’s not humming to the background noise of your car’s heater through a call, or asking Kai if he finally mustered up an apology for showing up late to his date. On top of missing the takeout box beside him too, only because he never left the parking lot in the first place. To which he should’ve considered signing himself up for an extra half hour of overtime if he knew he would’ve been sitting in his car with no push to drive back home to begin with.

He's empty-headed and overthinking all at once. Picking at his nails and chipping them slightly as that nervous, clammy feeling got to him again. The question still hangs heavy in his car. Whether it’d be greedy to ask for more tonight, whether he could be one of the guys you take back to your place.

Anyone could see the dazed trance he’s in, including Yeonjun who’s filled in as a substitute for a takeout box. He’s welcoming himself in and muttering an overly exaggerated ‘thank you’ before Beomgyu could even agree to let him unfold himself out of his work slump and into the passenger seat. Way too busy fixing his hair in the mirror despite it being too late out to notice the subtle improvement in appearance.

“Take me back to my apartment. Phea. Sant” The male fumbles his fingers along the sides of his seat while he cracks poor-landing jokes, struggling to find the recliner he needs to convert the already compact car seat into his bed.

“That’s ironic coming from you. Didn’t realise the rich are now hitching rides out of busted up Fords and working at supermarket chains.” Lifting open the tiny compartment, there are a couple of dimes that won’t ever be used for as long as the car lasts, a hair tie neither of them questions, and a stripped 12-pack of gum. Which he should’ve handed over to Yeonjun briefly, if only both of them weren’t so fixed on the contents inside as if they were expecting a pack of condoms to be hiding there.

“Looks like we both need a drink.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Truly speaking, he’s heard it almost 7 times today from worried coworkers, yourself included after you caught him wandering around the men's toilets every 6 seconds before stalling in there for another 4 minutes.

A second of silence passes, but it’s enough to throw off the atmosphere in the car alone as Yeonjun grabs hold of the phone to type in his address, scratching his head while re-navigating the GPS after accidentally clicking on a similar road 40 miles away.

“So who broke up with the other first?”

“Broke…up?”

“You and who else? All you do is give each other ‘fuck-me’ looks—”

“—I told you we’re not like that.” The passenger window rolls down as Beomgyu digs his finger into the switch, just in time for a rush of cold air to blow through, the chill causing the older male to curse and sit straight up.

“Kissed?”

“No.”

“Thought about it?”

“What are you getting at—”

“Fucked?”

“Maybe?—Oh God, look. I don’t know if it even…counts.” The engine is rusty, but it miraculously starts in its state anyway. Steering the wheel out of the parking lot, he can just about see his grey-washed reflection in the side mirror, taking in how rough he must look for Yeonjun to have known something was up from the get go.

“You’d look happier if you really got laid.” He chuckles as he undoes the first two buttons of his shirt, then licks around his lips before checking himself out in the mirror once more. Plus his phone in hand, ready to drop a picture to the first ten people in his contacts for the love of the game if it weren’t for the sullen mood of the driver. “Spit it out. What went so wrong?”

Well.

 Wouldn’t he like to know too? “We videocalled, and we— w-we masturbated together.”

“—Holy SHIT!? You did?” Yeonjun jolts out of his reclined seat again, just without the window this time. His eyes are blown wide enough to see the vessels, his eyebrows look sharper to the point it seems discriminatory, and there’s that obvious look on his face that stands for ‘you…and her?’ that burns a hole through his pride.

“Y-yeah just, I don’t know. Feels like I was ten times more into it than she was, but it won’t go anywhere if I don’t ask her again.” Silence stalls again as the car takes a turn towards the inner city, providing a small period of reflection for him. All the while, his friend tries to make amends and assures him that anyone can tell you’re into whatever borderline foreplay you’re doing with him on the job. “We aren’t even dating or exclusive, she’s still bedding her roommate.”

“Then why don’t you ask her about becoming exclusive? Just actually get your dick wet in her first for a start, that roommate of hers is a nil ahead.”

“Ask my co-worker if she can drop her roommate she’s been sleeping with for months to fuck around with someone she doesn’t see outside of work instead. Sounds solid Jjun.” Frustrated, he rubs his temples, his throat starting to feel dry from the amount of complaining he’s done in the span of a couple minutes.

“No harm in trying. Don’t you like her?”

Like. It’s started to lose meaning after how many times he’s contemplated the question himself. Enough to have rewritten the definition in his head after spending his night dwelling over it, the new abruptness to these newly sown feelings.

“No, I—I’m not sure.”

“So you wouldn’t care I shoot my sho—? Fuck man, watch it!—"

In Beomgyu’s defence, he didn’t mean to slam down on the brakes as harshly as he did. Although an action done without regret as he ultimately eyes the way the blonde immediately holds up his hands to feign the question as a joke. Dangerously close to breaking his nose from hitting the panel, breathing in hefty huffs as the adrenaline pours out of him.

“Why don’t you just ask her on a date and get somewhere?” The dirty blonde doesn’t hesitate in tugging on Beomgyu’s ear, although less affectionate than how you’d done so. “And stop scaring the shit out of me dude! Any faster and you’d have a busted Ford and my busted lips on your windshield.”

“I jotted it down on my planner and everything! I read it before I had to attend the meeting, I swear!” Kai’s rambles take up most of the room. An endless rant of how he’s inexcusably turned up late to a date he planned two weeks in advance with his girlfriend again, already sulking into the pillow over how he’ll make it up to her. Or he could be entirely wrong since he wasn’t fully tuned into any of what Kai was saying from the second he crashed onto his mattress. Too focused on the extra weight on the bed that he’s too embarrassed to say he's turned on by when his thoughts are constantly revolving around you.

“Mhm.” There’s nothing sinister or bitter behind his short responses; he loves Kai as much as everyone else who’s met him does. But his eyes are constantly trailing away from his roommate and down the headrest where you would’ve lain back on your bed, the edge of the mattress he was fumbling his drawstrings on, and the phone he’s been eyeing for the entire hour you hadn’t sent a message.

“We can talk about something else if it bores you—”

“—No, speak. I’m listening.” It’d be better if he could learn to be a little less of a thinker like Kai is, constantly forgetting things as if they never bothered him in the first place. Aloof and easy going despite his misfortunes in keeping up with his girlfriend.

Kai rolls off his back and onto his side, poking his gaze at the older male to find the smallest smidge of integrity in his words, only to be faced with him zoning out again. “We can talk later, or maybe another day if you don’t want to hang out today. You seem out of it, that’s all.”

Perhaps that’s what’s so lovable about Kai, and what makes it so hard to deny him forgiveness despite the mountain of apologies he’ll spout. Even if it’ll only result in more forgetfulness as time passes. “I think I might— I might ask the girl I work with on a date.”

“You’re not just asking the ‘girl you work with’ on a date, call her by her name at least.” A gentle but reprimanding punch to his arm leaves Beomgyu sighing, picking up his phone to scroll the list of date ideas Yeonjun sent to him last night to search for something that matched you.

“Do girls like it when you take them on dates to a greenhouse?”

“Is she allergic?”

“Good point. Better safe than sorry, uh— movie date?”

“What if you pick something boring?”

“Restaurant?”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? W-where do you and your girlfriend go on a date then?” Beomgyu regrets wasting his breath on the question the second he sees the shrug of the male’s shoulders, or in summary, a hint that Kai’s never the one to plan them.

Defeated, he turns back to his phone. Clicking onto a small aquarium venue with high enough ratings to seem decent, already thinking of learning a couple of fish names beforehand to flaunt that his intelligence isn’t stuck up his ass for once.

Though he’s snapping out of it the second your notification pops up at the top of his screen like some sort of beacon of light. A short and sweet, ‘need you’ with a frowning emoticon beside it, and that’s all he’ll need to be shooing Kai away.

“Kai— aren’t you supposed to be at your girlfriend’s place right now? She asked you to cook dinner.”

“M-me? What?! She did?—”

“She mentioned it when she called to ask if you were asleep. You didn’t forget again, right? You gotta go Kai. Like..now. Unless you want to fall back on your word again—”

The door slams aggressively on accident as Kai leaves the room in a rush, unsure as to whether he remembered to change out of his pyjamas to be somewhat presentable and not like he just woke up.

Even if his girlfriend never called for him at all, it’s not like she’d complain about the thoughtful surprise.

A tap away from the call button, so close yet so far as the low battery warning punches him straight in the gut, and his balls that ache in disappointment. Humorous timing really. Just not when his luck is always cockblocking him at the last second.

“Come on, comeoncomeoncomeon where the fuck did I leave it?” His fingers graze every surface of the bed, twisting the knob of his drawers, and kicking over his guitar which he manages to save from complete havoc a centimetre off the floor.

When he mentally pleaded to share the same kind of forgetfulness Kai possesses, he pleaded for leniency too. In the sense that he could clear his mind of thoughts about you so he could think straight for once. Not that he’d be forgetting where he placed his fossilised laptop among all the scrap he and his roommate trashed around the apartment over the past two nights.

Krrrk—

“Holy fuck if that’s what I think it is—” Beomgyu doesn’t know whether opening his eyes to check on whatever he crushed with his heel is safe for his own mental health, well aware that this time it isn’t just a small dent or a jammed key.

Closed eyes? Check. Feeling nervously clammy again? Check. Sensing the boner that’s weirdly growing because even in the midst of this he’s still thinking of you? Gross, but check.

Hell, he doesn’t even try to lift his weight off the flattened mass at all, too afraid to look behind him to see a crushed screen he should’ve folded close before deciding to leave it hanging on the floor.

But not for long the second he remembers you’re still waiting on him. Thus forcing open his pinched-shut eyes to face what seems to be the sunglasses Kai drunkenly bought whilst on holiday, with the real laptop just a step behind it.

It’s that blinding ray of mercy that he gets onto his knees for, hugging close the garage sale bought device tighter than he’s ever hugged anything else. And while it sucks to load any better than his crappy phone, it makes do when it’s plugged into the mains at least.

Drawing his blinds to a close slightly, Beomgyu rests himself back onto his bed again with his fingers locked into position to call you before his laptop could even start up properly without the cursor lagging eons of years behind.

That’s when he notices it. You’ve changed your profile picture again, completely eradicating your friend from the frame to replace it with the beach photo from the summer you spent in Europe that you refused to show him for the longest time. Now fully on display for him to see on the big screen of you in the itty-bittiest bikini he didn’t realise was even legal to sell without a public nudity fine packaged with it.

Smiling with your hair down and a finger trying to wisp away the strands being blown into your face away, you could pass off as a front-cover model if you tried. Minus the bikini and you could pass off as the girl he’ll see in every sex dream he has from here on.

What a shame that he isn’t exactly nimble enough to screenshot it before your camera came into view too as you picked up the call. Fully undressed so you could giggle to the camera that you ‘beat him to it’ shifting your phone down to give him another lethal close up of your puffy folds that pulse around your fingers. The desperation in your soft mewls stemming from not being able to cum properly rather than having reached your third orgasm before bothering to ask him once you got bored.

“I-isn’t Taehyun home to help you?” Goddamnit Beomgyu, he ought to keep his tongue obediently put in his mouth unless he wants to stick his foot in it instead.

“You’re asking about Taehyun? Why— he’s got you jealous?” Another bait you threw out for him to fall for, giggling louder as you observed the way he immediately chews on his lip as if you read his thoughts completely. “Does it not seem like I want you Gyu?” You purr at how he subtly shakes his head, bringing the slick gathered on your fingers to your mouth for a quick taste, moaning around your fingers on purpose to rile him up.

“Is the camera fine?— I tried to answer on the phone but I—”

“Relax Gyu. It’s a little blurry, but you could always inch closer can’t you? Missed seeing your huge cock on the screen.” You grab hold of your phone to level it with your gaze, batting your lashes in a silent plea for him to do as you wish.

“T-that’s embarrassing! Don’t say tha—”

“Say what? That you’re huge? That I want you to struggle to fit it inside and fuck me until I can feel you all the way up here?” You glide your finger down from your chest to just above your belly button for him to see, rubbing small circles on your skin as if you’re marking a target for his tip to brute through. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about Gyu, I’m sure plenty of girls wanna be bred by a cock like yours.”

“Enghh—” If he was planning on trying to wallow himself in more shame then the twitch in his pants would be the one to stop it, alongside the heavy whine that accidentally leaves him. God, does he want to bury his face into the mattress right now.

“I can’t be the only one feeling good here Gyu, you wanna make me cum as an apology for last time right?”

Your hand sinks between the valley of your thighs again, drawing out clumsy little shapes around your clit as you slowly lose yourself in the fleeting pleasure. Your lashes flutter to try and keep up your eye contact with the bulge straining in his pants, fingers pinching your clit as you tease your entrance with your middle finger. Slick pools from between your folds, the splotchy sound of your arousal flicking between your fingers as you rubbed yourself repeatedly fills his ears. Beomgyu’s distracted by it of course, but he doesn’t hesitate to snap out of his trance the second he hears a whine barely a pitch higher collapse from your soft lips.

Without a word he’s tugging off his pants without as much of a struggle as the last time you rang, groaning heartily as the sting of the cold air latches around the cockhead, all angry and red as it slaps against his abdomen.

“I bet it’d take hours of prep for that not to hurt,” as your voice trails off into a moan your back arches, giving him a cleared view of perk of your nipples through the paper-thin shirt starting to lift from your waist up, “Mmph!— jerk yourself off Gyu, wanna see me cum for your cock don’t you?”

Grunting in response, Beomgyu spits into his palm to lube himself up with the saliva, easing himself into the ache in his forearm as he forcefully thrusts his fist down his cock. You follow in pursuit, eyes sparkling in awe from watching his cock grow harder with time, fingers bumping against the gentle ridge of your clit in bursts of pleasure that rob you of breath.

“Fffuckk Gyuu!— keep touching yourself like that, it’s so fucking hot.” Whimpering, you choke on your spit in response to the flick of his wrist as he pumps his cock and coats it completely in sheen fluid. The vein on his arm pops out from straining his muscles, sweat beading down his forehead where he could taste the saltiness on his tongue whenever his mouth gaped open to groan. And best of all, how his hair becomes dishevelled in the hottest sweat-slicked mess you could imagine, the kind that has your heart and pussy throbbing whenever you notice the lust in his eyes once the strands fall in front of his lashes once more.

“Look so needy when you’re f-falling apart on your fingers pretty— mnghh-ah—" His sentences are starting to emerge from pure brain-fogged lust, not having the bother in him to care any less about whatever humiliating rambles leave his lips which he’ll regret ten seconds later.

Because there’s only so much you can handle before you’re pushing your own limit too, crying out loud without second thought on how thin the walls are in your apartment. Tiny hiccup-like gasps emit from your lips as your face screws shut in pleasure. Your fingers repeatedly target its circular motions around your clit as your stomach tightens and your thighs tense, visibly shaking in immense pleasure as you near release.

“G-Gyuuu ohmygod ffuck!” Voice pitched higher than usual, lips quivering as your moans vocalise into needy whines, if this is how you looked every single time you orgasmed he wouldn’t mind volunteering to help you cum a couple times more.

“I told you to keep it down princess, can hear you playing with yourself from my room.”

Beomgyu visibly jolts at the sound of another man’s voice filling his ears, notably extremely different from Kai’s for it to be from outside his room, and way too obviously from yours with how you jump to cover yourself.

“I forgot I’m— sorry, I’ll keep it down so you can get back to making out with your pocket pussy pretending it’s Ev—”

Interrupting your casual banter, the thump of footsteps announcing his entry inside your room causes your brow to raise in the same manner that Beomgyu’s has. “Not the time princess, throwing me away already?”

Tufts of brunette invades the camera space as a man’s face appears blocks you out of view. Devilishly handsome, Beomgyu will admit much to his dismay, especially when his sharp canines appear when he flashes a smirk.

Only an idiot wouldn’t be able to piece two-and-two together that it’s Taehyun. A total hunk with a singular silver stud in his ear and a black tank that flaunts how the bulk of his biceps covers the entire screen. But one thing that he doesn’t admire quite so much is the slyness to his gaze despite the rounded shape of his eyes, the threat behind it stretching far more than who should be given the priority to dip their hand beneath your shorts.

“Can barely see the guy. Didn’t realise crap cameras like this still existed, are you sure you came from looking at a bundle of pixels?”

“Taehyun!” Your attempts to defend him are quickly overridden as the brunette sits himself onto the mattress beside you, a smug grin plastered over his face upon seeing Beomgyu’s cock still stiff in his hand.

“Greedy girl. Whoring yourself out for a bigger cock now? He hasn’t made you squirt yet, has he?” Burying his head into your neck, all that Beomgyu can really do through the screen is watch the salty performance in front of him, and jeer and complain to try attest the insults thrown his way by the other.

Not that it posed a problem to Taehyun. He was already drowning out the background noise the second he started pressing wet kisses against your neck, inhaling your scent while your fingers interlocked with his hair.

“Tyun! Gyu’s there, I’m spending time with him!” His ears perk upon hearing his name, inching closer towards the screen to see how your brows twitch as Taehyun nibbles along your ear. The growing erection peeking out from the corner of the screen making the older male wince in distaste.

“Through the phone? Isn’t that our thing? I’m sure he’ll cum just as easily if I show him how it’s done.”

“Gyu are you sure you’re—?”

It physically pains him seeing another man’s hands all over you even if it’s not directly in the flesh; it grieves him more to compromise with it as long as he focuses on you. Solely you.

“I-it’s fine.”

Seeing the smirk reappear on Taehyun’s face only fuels the jealousy further, biting down on his tongue as he glues his eye onto the way Taehyun smushes your tits together in an arm lock. Every movement of his is trailed by Beomgyu’s gaze, following in line with the slide of his fingers down to your dripping folds, noticing how your moans breach into higher octaves whenever he sucked along your shoulder.

“Don’t think he can hear you from there. I know you can be louder than this princess.” Using the sheer force in his grip, he widens the gap between your legs, prying apart your thighs roughly to stretch out your folds. “Have you told him how sensitive you are down here yet?” A low curdle of a laugh sifts through his lips, the upturn of his smile barely grazing behind your ear as he pinches the flesh of your inner thigh.

Anyone could tell that Taehyun knew your body inside out. Beomgyu spots it in the way you lean back into the brunette, thrusting your tits towards the camera, whining from the pain that seeps towards your core. He knows exactly what to feed into your ear, whispering just about loud enough for you to be squeezing your thighs together, only for him to pry them open again. Though for Beomgyu on the other end, he can hardly hear anything coming out of Taehyun’s mouth when your moans are constantly interrupting him.

“T-Taehyun—” Your breath hitches as a weak hand grabs hold of his, guiding his finger towards your entrance, and weakly inching him in. “Need more Tyun, s-stop wasting time picking a fight with ngh! Beomgyu!—"

Beomgyu twitches once more hearing you cry out his name, although the fleeting feeling leaves as suddenly as it came when you squeal at the thick finger your roommate doesn’t even bother to ease in. Rushing the process, thrusting and turning his finger down to the knuckles— you aren’t given time to breathe before he’s prodding a second finger against your hole.

There’s too much pride in him for Beomgyu to admit it’s hot. Because it shouldn’t be— it’s the exact same formula as all the other homemade porn videos that bore him. Especially not with Taehyun in the scene, who’s biting the inside of his cheek with knitted brows, focusing on strumming your clit while fucking your hole with pistoning fingers.

“Fuckfuckfuck yes!—” But he can swear with every single bone in his body that you rile him up to a dangerous extent. Cock twitching painfully after being left to cool in the air as Beomgyu examines each contortion in your expression, length tapping against his stomach in a fiery demand to be stroked. Touched. Buried deep enough inside of you that it’ll make sex with Taehyun feel loose.

He doesn’t recall when he started fucking his cock into the minuscule make-shift hole bunched together by his fist. All that he can focus on is memorising every movement that has you whining louder, needier, the dominance slowly being drained from you as slick protrudes out of your hole and stains the inside of your thighs. He takes advantage of the up close view of your pussy, which flutters around Taehyun’s fingers as he scissors his middle and index deep within your cunt, meanly stretching out your walls with merciless speed. Beomgyu goes as far as to take note of what drives you over the edge: when Taehyun licks along your neck teasingly over and over again without leaving a mark, when he groans into your shoulder and grips your waist to keep you from squirming, and when he digs his hard cock into your ass so you can plead for it.

Pfft. Getting cocky isn’t pretty on him; that goes without saying. But Beomgyu can’t help but scoff at the lacklustre in the brunette’s movement; your roommate doesn’t know what you tell him on your shift. How you like it when you’re in charge. That you get insanely wet when a guy pleads with his eyes— loving how sweet it is to hear your voice come out of their mouth in a girly whine instead of the opposite.

And so he’s following shortly, making a scene of himself as he pulls the edge of his top up to his teeth, pink nipples appearing with a blue-ish tint through the screen as he teases his tip with a finger. Whenever you’d whine, he’d press harder against his slit. A momentum he could catch up with until it became too tempting to bear, head tilting to the side with droopy eyes, breathing shakily as he grips around his base.

“Hnghh-ugh—” The crumpled audio draws your eyes towards the screen again, and fuck, you wish you could take a photo in the moment. Admiring Beomgyu’s softly toned stomach that heaves with each breathy exhale as he fucks his cock, rotating his wrist as he reaches the tip until he feels euphoric enough to squeeze his eyes shut and lean back in defeat.

You’d let him in on a little secret later. A small confession you doubt you’d be on the benefiting side of if you leaked it with Taehyun snug beside you, humping his cock against your ass and cunt until you stained his gym shorts with your essence. Since truthfully said, you’ve only been imagining Beomgyu in his place this entire time, swapping out your roommate’s grunts for his breathy whines. Going as far as to bite down on your lip to refrain from calling out for his name instead of Taehyun’s, soaking your eyes in the lewdness of how he weakly teases his tip until it becomes overbearingly sensitive for him to handle without cumming too soon. You don’t want to end up without someone to share the rent again if you told Taehyun that you were only throbbing around his fingers because your eyes were trained on Gyu.

“That’s it princess, clench around my fingers. It’s not enough, is it? You wanna be fucked stupid by a cock.” You do so on command, squeezing around his fingers as he prolongs pressing his finger against your gummy walls, the bliss of it coming down on you immediately as you throw your head back onto his shoulder.

“Ngh—Beomgyu holy shit—”

It’s comedic how time slows for everybody in that second alone. Your eyes widen, Beomgyu’s most likely wider as he whines, cumming almost instantly all over his screen and his thighs, thick seed continuing to drip moments after the initial climax.

And Taehyun? He pulls out his fingers altogether, frustration crashing upon you completely in the form of complaints and desperate whines that you’re immediately muting the second you face him.

“Where’s your head at hm? Are you trying to tick me off?” Taehyun’s leaning towards the camera before you can butt in another word, running his hand through his hair as he observes the mess Beomgyu’s made all over himself with null amusement.

Within the awkward period of silence, the brunette swipes his fingers between your folds, collecting your juices on his fingers while giving you a short-lived taste of pleasure since he last removed his touch from within you completely.

It’s strange, out of the norm for someone like Taehyun really, and your confusion lands and translates in Beomgyu’s body language as well as he inches closer towards his screen in unison. His eyes are slowly bewitched by what Taehyun has to show him, drawing his fingers close until the camera focuses.

The male spreads apart his fingers, chuckling obscenely so as he flaunts the lengthy strands of clear slick attached between his thumb and index in a giant web of arousal. Hell, for a second Beomgyu couldn’t tell if he was being sly or trying to tempt another orgasm out of him, until he opens his mouth, of course.

“Sorry man, I’d really like to get to know you better, but I’ve got your girl on my hands waiting to be shown some attention—”

“Taehyun you can’t—!”

“W-what?” The call ends without a second to negotiate, the second ring even goes straight to ‘missed’ when he tries. Left looking blankly at his cum-splattered screen opened up on your chat messages without a pitiful bye other than the harsh ‘read’ receipt he’s on the receiving end of. Wondering whether your roommate is mocking his confused, mixed with desperate, question marks. On top of the empty ‘next time?’ left unanswered while he’s most likely already balls deep inside of you, as he said.

“What the hell? She’s fuck buddies with a guy like that?” It makes his blood boil almost, the fumes huffing out his nose and his brows raised in disapproval as he hurriedly wipes off the screen until it’s decently clean of stains.

Beomgyu can’t even process what your girl friends would even think of him, a walking mass of red flags that correlate with what you all typed out in your little group chat, and he has the honours of being able to hit first.

A headache is one thing he’s dealing with, and the buzz of a notification he can already sense is Kai complaining about the small lie he told him will only make it feel like an extra bullet to the pain…

Or not! Definitely not when he gets a good look at the notification that he totally doesn’t rub his eyes thrice to check if he’s seeing it clearly, your message left sweetly on the panel, although it has to be deciphered due to all the typos. Not that he can complain about you getting your back blown out by your roommate, who he really doesn’t like, since he’s thrilled you even managed to remember him in the middle of it all anyway.

You don’t leave an emoji this time, or the small ‘x’s and emoticons. A sentence short and simple enough to remember for the rest of his days.

‘Come over to my place next time. Want it to be just us.’

Tuesdays are plain boring, and while it’s not mundane work like stocking up the shelves, any shift that you’re not working alongside him means that ten hours actually feels like ten instead of four. In fact he’s not exactly on close terms with anyone who clocks in for Tuesdays. For any sane person, Tuesday is the sole day of the week everyone could collaterally agree should be eradicated, serving no purpose at all other than being pointless. No customers, caffeine-functioning robots Beomgyu calls coworkers, the day taking its sweet-sweet time to overturn into night. The only positive he can list off the top of his head is that Yeonjun doesn’t work on Tuesdays, and he’d rather sacrifice himself into endless boredom than have a pounding headache for a shift with him.

Well, he doesn’t really know how to go about his day without you there monitoring him and directing him on the right path instead of a beeline towards the beer. Sort of like loitering around waiting for someone to assign him a task that’ll never happen because Tuesdays never had any foot traffic into the store to begin with. So he’ll hang around the aisles, scavenging for any good offers and hiding his favourite colours of things he wants in compartments so that no one else can snatch them before the end of his shift.

He probably needs to—

“Hey man, mind if you tell me where something is?”

Could he call it survival instincts? Beomgyu’s not entirely sure, but the familiarity of the voice he can’t quite put a pin on is enough to send shivers down his spine. Fuck, it’d be less embarrassing for him to run away than to stiffly unfold himself out of his crouching position after being caught looking at the lego sets. Eyes constantly glued to the floor before he musters up the courage to make eye contact with Taehyun— “Taehyun?!”

Sign him up for a reflex competition or something along those lines, because Beomgyu’s never slapped a hand over his mouth so quickly to cover up a slip of tongue; the speed itself is impressive.

“Sorry?”

“U-uhm I can try find it for you. W-what is that you’re looking for?”

The brunette is slightly shorter than he imagined, yet it’s overlooked by how striking he is in person compared to how…attractive he still was over the phone. The huddle of coworkers peeking from behind the aisle to spy on him ready to jump for an opportunity to service the guy says it all neatly and concisely.

Other than his appearance, it hits him harder that your roommate doesn’t seem to recollect him at all, cocking an eyebrow as if it were Beomgyu’s first day on Earth with how he nervously sweats and stiffly stands with his arms by his side.

“You’ll end up cramping a muscle if you keep standing like that. Relax.” Taehyun pats a hand against his shoulder, offering a subsidiary smile out of politeness he’d probably withdraw once he figured out that Beomgyu was the guy he ended the call on the other day. “Mind if you could point me to where the condoms are?—”

“—In my back pocket.”

“What?”

Now Beomgyu’s having second thoughts on agreeing to what you messaged him last time. Anything to avoid facing your roommate headfirst after revealing he has condoms tucked in the back pocket of his jeans. Two, to be precise.

After all, it was you who suggested you’d pick him up after work today. It’s just his luck that he crossed paths with your roommate on the job, slipping up his words one after the other until it came to painting himself as some pervert who packs condoms to work.

“Haha…ha! I’m just playing with you…man?— T-they’re next to the vitamins on the aisle next to the toiletries.” Ugh, and if it couldn’t get worse, Taehyun completely airs the fist bump he gives (which he somehow thought was a good idea in the moment) so Beomgyu ends up jabbing the side of his arm awkwardly.

“Gotcha—”

“A-actually I think we ran out.” At this point, there’s no turning back. Not when he lets his mouth run all in the hopes that the condoms your roommate’s buying aren’t for you. Beomgyu would consider buying out all the sizes, brands and weird flavours of condoms as long as the brunette goes back to the apartment empty handed and cockblocked by him.

“Of condoms?”

“Yeah, y-yeah a group of guys came by earlier and bought the whole lot. Freaky..I know. What did you need them for a-again?”

‘What did you need them for?’ If you were right next to him watching how he was handling customers you’d probably kick him in the shin for the utter stupidity drooling from his lips.

“Surely that’s against store policy.” Taehyun doesn’t do much other than look around, scroll on his phone for a while before closing it up nicely with a toothy smile, which Beomgyu swears the squeals that followed after were not out of pure coincidence.

“Sorry… I can check in the back—"

“No need.” He’s already retreating backwards while focused on his phone before Beomgyu could try fix up the terrible customer service he’s ever put his name to shame for, only managing to reach the end of the aisle before he stops completely. A smirk tugs on his lips, in a heart rattling sense more than a heart throbbing one, to which his heart stops beating completely when his phone notifies him with an airdrop.

A single attachment, from ‘Kang Taehyun’ at the very top. To open it? He doesn’t dare. Not until his curiosity breaches the limit and he’s quickly downloading the blurry thumbnail as it loads slowly, but surely. And there goes the famous saying in all its glory: curiosity kills the cat.

Beomgyu only needs a second to process the video before he hides his screen against his shirt, peeking around both sides of his head and even behind to check if anyone else saw what happened to have appeared on his phone.

Downsized into a small video attachment is a clip of you, completely in ruins with your hair tangled and knotted by Taehyun’s rough grip mere inches away from your scalp. Your makeup is streaky, natural skin appearing through which appears to be burning with tears, and lips pursed and wet with spit that collects under your lip messily. The cherry on top is your cheekbones that slightly protrude as you hollow your cheeks, deepthroating Taehyun’s cock to the best of your ability with glossy and wincing eyes. Lips suctioning around him as you bat your wet lashes prettily, latching onto the mauve cockhead trying to clean all the cum off Taehyun’s dick.

For the first time in his life, Beomgyu’s glad that he works the Tuesday shifts. Where there are barely any customers for anyone to notice he’s sneaking himself into the men’s toilets. Deep into the late hours when his coworkers are all too tired to notice the slight rise in his pants.

It doesn’t even hit him immediately that Taehyun caught on to who he was in the end; the airdropped video seems less of a threat and more of a reward if you ask him. But he’ll consider it as punishment for what he’ll put the video to use for later.

“So, did Tamsyn give you an earful?” Leaning over the console, you try to lock eyes with Beomgyu as he buckles himself into the car, pushing away the hair covering his eyes to finally jam in the seatbelt after missing it twice.

“Nah, your roommate did actually.” Ruffled up in his signature jeans that are torn at the ankles and a print-ironed tee from years ago, he’s not exactly in ‘first date’ couture. Having to settle with a tiny dressing room his limbs could barely squeeze into the second his shift ended wasn’t ideal.

You’re the first to tuck back the stray strand bothering him, thumb brushing over his ear as you speak. “Mhm, sounds about right. You look good though considering you just came out of a Tuesday shift.” Perhaps Yeonjun was right about anything other than Friday and the weekend being unsexy.

Beomgyu laughs— airily, in that sort of awkward but understandable tone practically screaming out to you that he’s trying to shut down all the pathways to his brain and nerves so he can put being tense on autopilot. Which means instinctively lifting up the compartment to check for the gum he forgot Yeonjun took the last strip of in his own car, and trying to turn on the radio which you immediately intercept.

“If you turn it on that’s basically telling me you want me to shut up and die.” Extreme, but he enjoys the sarcasm between you as he shifts in his seat, completely in a daze other than knowing it’s a date at your place.

“Don’t be dramatic, turning on the radio means I love you—” Déjà vu hits him like a bitch now more than it ever has before. The same screeching of tyres at a red light, the lengthy minute of silence neither of you wants to be the first to break, and the thoughts processing whatever the fuck he just said. “…Enough to share my great…music taste.”

“Didn’t take you for a radio guy.” You laugh it off so easily, brushing over the poorly-saved confession like knocking dust off your shoulder. Sweetly turning on the radio anyway to satisfy him even though the song that comes on has been the same formula of pop overplayed to the point he can’t help but hate it. “Besides, being dramatic is the passenger princess’ job.”

“What piece of clothing do I have to take off to bet that Yeonjun made you think so?” Snorting, Beomgyu almost forgets that this isn’t one of your conversations at work where words just flow through his mouth, suddenly starting to feel comfortable again in your company. He doesn’t even realise that his head has been turned 90 degrees on the dot just burning holes into the side of your face with his gaze for the past minute, all of a sudden rocking back shyly to retreat into his own zone.

Not that it’s effective in any sense, he still finds himself peeking out the corner of his eye to catch a glimpse. Noticing the length of your lashes from the side as they’re peeled open to focus on the road, the subtle blush you chose to put on today that softens up your cheeks, and the slight bob in your throat that goes to show you’re just about as nervous as he is.

“This is how openings to serial killer movies start by the way.” It’s sickening. You’re sickening. Just the way you smile after catching him staring out in the open is enough to make him feel sick to his stomach with butterflies. And as gross and cheesy as it may sound, he can’t find words to describe the feeling without sounding even more like an Italian love connoisseur. “I guess it could be romantic too though Gyu, what do you think?”

“Stick with serial killers.”

Your smirk only widens despite the raspberry you blow with your tongue at his boring answer. “No fun Gyu, get out of the car you loser!” He’s an inch away from kissing your window as you hurriedly push him out the door, following right behind him as you climb out of your seat, arms stretched to wake yourself up out of the driving drowsiness.

“I was thinking I’d cook for us. I mean, how does steak and wine sound? Or does that make me sound obviously more broke than actually going out to a restaurant?” Beomgyu doesn’t know what to answer other than a nod or a shake, suddenly choosing to distance himself from you by a metre as if he’s some sort of puritan. “Jeez Gyu you’re gonna make this date feel one-sided if you don’t try to even walk onto the first step of the stairs until I’m on the tenth.” Grasping him by the hand, you drag him with all your might to draw him closer, until your back and his chest were by definition, touching.

“I’ll eat whatever you cook, on Yeonjun’s life.”

“Pfft, doesn’t sound convincing when you carelessly throw around Yeonjun’s life like he’s fodder.” Both of you are out of breath by the time you reach your apartment. The elevator became a no-go when you told Beomgyu that walking out of it would leave both of you testing positive for multiple class A drugs and perhaps an airborne std if that exists. On top of the two of you running your mouths loud enough for the whole complex to hear you joking and bumping shoulders as you laughed too hard for what wasn’t even that hilarious.

“Aaaandd welcome to my apartment, date! Don’t mind the shoes, I thought I told Taehyun to tidy them up.” Kicking off your shoes, you don’t even register where they’ll end up, or that one of them was a second away from being stuck on top of your lampshade. Your shoulders immediately loosen up, making rounds to the kitchen before he does so you could steal the cuter apron before he could.

“Nice? Shit? You can tell me it’s shit, it’s alright. I’ll blame it on the little grumpy man today.”

“Grumpy man?” Beom’s eyebrows raise in confusion before ultimately concluding that you were rambling about Taehyun, only able to slip in a few mumbles before you finish tying your apron.

“Mind helping me with the mushroom sauce? It’ll be less boring than watching me cook for an hour, trust me.”

Okay, before anyone can judge. Beomgyu’s not known to be some sort of Michelin chef— or just a chef, by any means. But a sauce doesn’t sound nearly as impossible as whatever you were busying yourself with, already in the element of arranging the peppercorn spices and herbs ready.

Well that’s what both of you originally thought. Except who would’ve known that Beomgyu would end up burning the pan after turning the heat on too high, or that you’d end up with rosemary in your hair and flavourless mushroom sauce splattered all over his jeans by the end of it.

“Hah!— What the hell? How did you even get it on your cheek?” You’re rubbing off mushroom sauce from his face with your thumb by the end of it, a meal gone to hell far away from your portfolios. “I think we should just order takeout—”

“Dom’s!”

“Whoa! Hold your horses, I know you wanna dom this time but I—”

“W-what no?! The small pizza place near the parking lot— I saw the sign for it earlier.” It’s cute how frantic he is, flailing his hands all over the place to explain himself.

“I’m just playing Gyu, but I’m like a hundred percent sure that’s a money laundering scheme.” You quiet down for a bit, scrolling through your phone to search for another pizza place that could serve your failed homemade meal a slap to the face.

“U-uhm, is it a bad time to ask why Taehyun’s upset?” Beomgyu hopes you don’t take offense to it, but he’s already backing up behind the counter in case you were about to lose your mind recalling the events.

“If you ran into him at work today then you probably would’ve been able to tell he’s throwing a big-ball tantrum.” You lean your back against the counter, careful to not dip your elbow into the sauce as you sigh out, and if you were trying to catch his attention for another gossip sesh again, then Beomgyu is all ears. “I cut off the whole fuckbuddies thing, I’m lucky he’s only pissed because I didn’t tell him I was bored with it sooner.”

“Hold on— b-but, why? You guys were—!”

“Why else Gyu?” As you circle around the counter, your fingers are busy undoing the knot behind your apron, pursing your lips as his name rolls off your tongue smoothly. “I wanna take things seriously now, between us.”

Beomgyu’s breath hitches when you lean into the crevice of space below his chin, the hot breath fanning against his adam’s apple making it difficult for him to speak, let alone comprehend anything that came out of your mouth.

“I’m saying I think you’re cute Gyu, hear that?” The soft giggles that press like peppered kisses against his neck make his legs feel weak, ready to collapse onto the floor if it weren’t for the way you’re hovering close enough to trap him in.

“Y-yeah.” If you thought Beomgyu was blushing when he turned pink then you’re a liar, because he’s burning bright red with a palm covering his face as if to stop a nosebleed. Trembling excitedly but too shy and scared of screwing it all up to move anything apart from the eager nod of his head, exhaling shakily before snaking his arms around your hips to draw you in closer.

Heavy, shallow breaths. You can hear it in the gap between your lips, the thump of his heart, or yours, between them— an internal monologue of your own urging you to lean in and kiss him like you’ve been wanting to. Tangling your fingers into his hair to lure him in closer, suckling on the corner of his lips for an entrance to dive in your tongue against his, the heat lingering as you lick along his bottom lip. You nibble on the soft fat, tugging down on his flesh to let yourself in more freely, kissing his teeth while he lets you lead him into your touch. His lips feel plump against yours, the smallest hint of sweetness to them as you knock him into a couple of chairs while trying to navigate back to your room, hands sliding down to caress his upper cheek where his lashes flutter against your thumb.

In that moment alone, neither of you wanted to separate yourselves, only taking small breaths in between kisses before delving back into his mouth, kissing along his jaw and licking down to his adam’s apple to which he hums at.

“Off, hurry—” With your fingers curling under his waistband, he wastes no time in undoing the zipper of his jeans, letting the denim bunch up on the floor into a messy pile of your own top and bra. There’s only so much time that you have to strip yourself before he’s patiently waiting at the edge of the bed, round eyes awestruck by the swell of your tits as you place your palms over his knees, parting his legs to give you space to kneel between.

“I still can’t get used to this you know,” your hands run up his thighs in light, feathery touches, sending shivers down his spine as you cup your hand around the base, “it looks bigger than it did on camera.” Forming a loop with your fingers, you gently jerk him off to just below the tip, squeezing around the vein slightly to urge out the precum from his slit.

One hand flies to cover his mouth, losing it completely as he tries to hold your wrist still, halting it from moving altogether while he tries to bite back his moans. “Don’t t-tease me—”

“Heghh?” In a tone so innocent it sounds unfit for how your tongue sticks out dangerously close to his tip, you smile at Beomgyu with your eyes, crescent-like and sparkly with dirty intentions. Your nails barely scratch along the sensitive vein, the stinging pain driving him insane as his eyes twitch in pleasure, back straightening stiff as you press the flat of your tongue against his cockhead.

Warmth clouds him as you trail the slit with the wet muscle, fingers clawing against the sheets and loosening when you pull away, only to tighten again when he spots the string of saliva bridging your tongue and his pearly-wet cock. “W-wait baby—”

“You’re getting comfortable already.” You peek up at him through your lashes. All bug-eyed and seductive as you lead the eye contact, squeezing around the base of his cock again as a cheat to win, knowing that he’d immediately flinch and shut his eyes. “You wanna get your cock sucked so bad, don’t you Gyu?”

Making him feel dizzy with lust isn’t a challenge when all that it takes is playing a pout on your lips, jutting out the bottom fat as you whine just staring at his size. Wrapping your hands around him and licking at where your fingers join back round again is enough to send his head reeling, because he’s forced to see the way your fingers can’t wrap around the girth entirely, relying on your nails to bridge the gap.

Without warning, you finally clasp around him completely, jerking him off at an excruciating speed. In that absent-minded head of his you doubt he can even register the surroundings, struggling to keep up with every one of your moments at once as he gasps, feeling you lick a wet stripe along the underside of his cock.

“G-gah!—” Hearing his tiny mewls only fuels the heat growing between your legs, starting to feel sticky in your panties, uncomfortably rubbing your thighs together to gather some sort of friction which inevitably leaves you moaning against his cock. “Feels weird when you— mngh, do that.”

“You’re so cute Gyu, bet you’re sensitive here too.” You hum against his tip, thrusting your fist vertically along his cock while the other hand pinches his thigh, a smile forming across your face when he jolts up and bucks his cock into your lips.

His whines drag on only to grow in volume as you tug on his balls, shifting your weight into your arm as you jerk him off to the side, leaving enough room for your head to lean in and lick along the length. The tip bruises a deep pink as you lather it in spit, lubing it with a sheen gloss of your saliva to glide your palm along his dick, wrist rotating as you jerk him towards the tip.

“I like it when you’re obedient like this, whining so loudly when you haven’t even felt my throat yet.” You coo at him as you give sweet little kitten licks, fingers bumping against your lips where you peppered soft kisses against his vein. His cock feels heavy in your hands as he throbs in your touch, head thrown back and kissing his teeth in constraint, trying ever so desperately to hold back from pushing his cock past your lips.

“P-please just fuck— suck me off already, I don’t think I can hold ngh!— h-hold on for much longer.” Anyone else, and you probably would’ve leaned towards tormenting them a bit more. Though when you look up expecting to see him frustrated, you genuinely can’t strip your gaze from the way his eyes appear to be brimming with tears. Soft sniffles attempting to hide the desperation cracking through his voice as he leans his head back to hide the humiliatingly needy expression. Even if it’s present everywhere in his body language. The hands gripping his sheets until his knuckles burn white, his lip that’s been bitten so many times the blood has flushed them a rosy pink, and the way his body arches in as his stomach tenses whenever you tease him with your tongue.

So you reward him on a generous note this time, guiding yourself towards the tip of his cock as you try to measure out how far your lips would have to stretch to take him in. The corners of your lips burn as you try cover your teeth from scraping him, struggling to fit anything past the cockhead before your jaw begins to ache.

“O-oh ffuck—” This time, Beomgyu seriously can’t peel his eyes open for the life of him, knowing better than to stare straight down at you struggling to mould your lips around his cock.

Anyone else in his position wouldn’t be able to hold back from cumming in their pants when your breath is constantly fanning against him as your lips leave him for a breather. Nonetheless, you manage to reach just above halfway before your throat dries up from the stretch, choosing to jerk off whatever was left with your first, squeezing extra tight near the base. On instinct he thrusts his hips into your mouth, helping you adjust to the size slightly as you find a tempo to follow, bobbing your head up and down until a hitch in your throat causes you to gag.

“S-shit... feels— fucking amazing.” A compliment wrapped under a hushed whisper. He doubts you even managed to hear it when the lewd sound of his cock ploughing down your throat is all that you can focus on to keep you on track.

As you begin to settle around him, you hasten the pace unexpectedly, managing to reach further than you ever had to start with as you vigorously twist your hand around the base. With your other hand, you try to hide your attempt at snaking your hand out of sight and hidden between the flesh of your thighs, rubbing small circles around your clit until the pleasure causes your lashes to flutter.

By which it wasn’t a successful attempt at all in any sense since Beomgyu caught you in the act, gaze following your hands as they draw out small shapes along your folds, pressing the flat fingerpads against the wet patch in your panties as you whimper around him. It drives him over the edge more than anything. Suddenly feeling the knot start to tighten as your tongue swirls around his cock, leaving your spit dripping from his cock in thick, foamy blobs as you make a mess around your mouth.

“Let me cum i-inside please pretty, just this once—” You can’t find it in you to detach your lips from him as you grow obsessed with the pain of the stretch, choosing to hum and rub down his inner thigh as a yes while you purse your lips at the tip. Forearm aching as you squeeze harder around his cock trying to jerk him off faster, letting the sensitive cockhead twitch against your tongue as you tease the slit repeatedly.

“Mngh— w-who taught you that fffuck—” Clutching your hair in his hands, Beomgyu can barely catch his breath, automatically pushing down on your head to choke you further down his cock. His grip on your scalp is nasty, pain soaring through you as it delves into the territory of pleasure, causing you to yelp at the sting, a second away from needing to catch your breath.

Right in the middle of a moan, he’s locking your head airtight in place to spurt hot cum down your throat, buckling his cock into your throat still post-release like aftershocks. Sweat pearls along his forehead and drips down his temples, breath unstable and shaky as he blinks away his orgasm in bliss, slowly releasing his grip around your hair to caress along your cheek instead.

“A-ack! Sorry, I didn’t mean to hold onto your hair like t—”

“Seems like you want to take the lead this time Gyu, you wanna be in charge this time?” Lifting yourself off sore knees, you prowl towards him, pinning him further back along the bed to gauge his reaction in amusement.

Beomgyu doesn’t even try to hide how the thought excites him, eyes blown wide once more as a blush spreads along his face just thinking about it. Thinking about how he’ll fuck you harder than Taehyun can, read far enough to breach your womb where Taehyun can’t, stretch you out like he’s been dreaming of, feeling you clench around him for space.

Too eager to even give you a proper response, he’s already shifting ahead to lean against the pillows, dragging you by the arm with enough force to land you right in his lap. At first, you thought the stunt was on purpose— trying to hold down your hips in place so he could dig his newly rock-hard boner again against your panties. Or at least you thought so until you grasped the slight hiss that emerges from him. Noticing how his grip immediately loosens as he remains sensitive from his last orgasm, his eyes glossy for a mere second before they return to a more serious gaze, determined to take the lead this time.

“Gonna guide me will I ride your cock? Is that what you want Gyu?—” Originally, you had more to say, enjoying ticking him off like a time bomb to get him to snap. And when he does, he’s merciless as he hooks your panties to the side. Unbothered with wasting any time on stripping you completely when all that you’ve clouded his mind with are sinful, ravenous thoughts.

Slipping his finger under the band of your panties, he pulls back the band to snap the fabric near your inner thigh. The sight leaves him licking his lips watching the way your dripping folds leak with your arousal, cunt clenching desperately around nothing. Even running a finger between the slit is enough to have him groaning as he pushes a finger inside, giving the smallest window of time for you to adjust before he adds another.  

Luring you into a trap of his own while he focuses on bruising his knuckles against your walls, curling them torturously slow as he stretches you out by a bare margin. Another hand focused on massaging the soft plump of your ass, kneading it in his palm as he sinks his fingers into it, tugging your cheeks apart to spread your ass before gliding down towards your cunt.

“Enough gyu just— hah, put it in already—”

Lowly, he chuckles. The sinister cast overtaking him almost sounds like a stranger in his body as your pussy throbs seeing him smile slyly, as if he were omniscient in the fact that you’d be regretting it soon enough if you got ahead of yourself like you are now.

“Trust me pretty, listen when I say you need a third finger for it not to hurt.” By the very look in his eyes, it's obvious he’s talking from experience, and it makes your stomach churn at the thought as you wrap your hand around his cock again. To measure the size beforehand, a slight precaution that was bearable to withstand when you took him in your mouth, but seeing the girth of it poking out from beneath you only made your spine shiver at the thought.

“Mngh— j-just hurry up then!” It would’ve been helpful to know that feeding ‘hurry up’ into Beomgyu’s ear means that he understands it as a command to absolutely brute his fingers through your cunt. The size of all three fingers practically mimics Taehyun’s cock rather than a bit of finger action to ease you in, slick coating his fingers as the wet, sloppy sound squelches from below.

“G-Gyu no you need to a-agh! stop or else I’ll cum too soon ohmygod—” Your back feels sore from trying to hold up your posture while your legs render themselves into jelly, managing to slip yourself a proper breath when he pulls the triad of fingers out of you. To make matters worse for your lustmeter, he’s licking up every crevice and surface of his fingers, tasting you on his tongue before popping his fingers out of his lips altogether.

“You’d taste even better if you let me cum inside.”

“I’ll reward you with it if you put on a good show.” You steady your legs with whatever energy you had left, hovering just above to give Beomgyu space to prod his tip against your entrance, the imprint of his cock becoming vivid in your memory as he eases it inside.

Slow, sure, but any faster and you genuinely would be in consideration for the emergency room if you happened to rip. He’s barely encased himself between your folds when you’re clutching onto his shoulders the next second, digging your nails into his skin subconsciously. “S-shit baby, don’t clench around me—”

“I’m not!!” No matter how long you must’ve prepped for, the pain still hits you like a damn bitch. Yelping through every inch you manage to take in, head hanging low to bite down on your lip as if that would hide any sign of struggle. Beomgyu’s quick to groan in response, head spinning just thinking about how tight you were even without clamping down on him. Suddenly feeling conscious of whether he’d be able to refrain from cumming too soon if you happened to have clenched around him.

Weight falls onto his shoulder as you rest your forehead on the broad surface, eyes shut as you whine, feeling unlike yourself considering you usually have no issue with sliding it in in the first place. “Doing so well pretty, you’re nearly there.” Beomgyu’s damn well a liar, because you haven’t even reached halfway when he’s drawing small circles on your back, grinning widely from the ego boost alone, knowing that no one else has managed to have you fall apart on their cocks quite literally as he has.

Perhaps what he has planned next is a little mean, but Beomgyu promises he’ll make it up to you in aftercare once he does this. “A-aah! G-Gyu too much!” You cry out loud into his shoulder, feeling way too full to try squirming away in case you’d rip, wanting to bite down on his skin for pushing your hips down onto him.

“Shhh, that’s a good girl. Let me guide you through it pretty— as you said.” His breath against your ear causes you to flinch, pulling away to flash the fat tears brewing in the corner of your eyes hoping to gain some sort of sympathy for yourself. Yet all that you’re left with is the violent throb of his cock as he pulses against your walls, the additional stimulation driving you over the edge as you automatically rock your hips to chase the feeling.

“Hnnngh— Gyu…I can’t move, curse you for being so big what the hell!?” Balling your hand into a fist, you lightly knock it against his chest as a light punishment in your own terms. Before ultimately pushing your tits against the lean muscle, the flesh feels sore as it smushes against him.

“I know, I know sweetheart just let me handle it.” Diving his hands to grab support of your thighs, lifting the weight to guide you up his cock. Groans falling in a non-stop current from his lips from how you suction around him so hard it becomes difficult to breathe.

Desire overtakes him as he thrusts you back down onto his cock with brute force, choking your cunt by overloading it with his girth as you cry out his name. You lose control over your legs completely, the limbs practically deadweight by now as you try to recover from the shock of being slammed back down onto him— balls deep and relentless.

He’s never been the type to fuck around until something works, particularly rhythmless with no exact tempo he’s limited by other than repeatedly throttling you down onto his cock. To which the tip kisses your cervix without even making any effort, managing to hit each spongy-sweet spot without having to try, and that’s what has your craving for seconds.

Finally gaining the courage to lean your weight onto your hands, the arch of your back unintentionally creates the perfect angle for his cock to poke jaggedly along your walls. Each thrust and even target against the same dent inside the lining of your womb stealing you of breath while your eyes roll beyond the back of your head, the overhead light starting to distort in your sight as the pleasure takes over your thoughts.

“Fuckfuckfuck Gyu! M-more!—” It’s impossible not to start babbling random erotic-coated thoughts when he’s curiously pressing his palm against your pussy pouch, the additional pressure driving you past your limits as you tremble erratically.

Beomgyu gives in to your wishes without a problem, grabbing hold of a tighter grip on your hips as he rocks your cunt against his pelvis, clit bumping roughly against his skin in desperation for release. Every stroke of his cock stretches you out in an addictive cycle of pain-filled pleasure, leaving you biting down onto your lip so harshly you can taste metal on your tongue, moving on your own without thinking as Beomgyu pushes you through to orgasm.

The echo of your wanton moans filling up whatever space is left in the room that isn’t the smell of sex doesn’t hinder Beomgyu from slowing down. He’s without a doubt burning through every energy store in his body just to completely brute his way through to your orgasm. His own stamina is at the very bottom of his concerns when the screwed-up expression on your face is all he needs to keep himself going.

Detaching a hand from one of your hips, he indulges himself in reaching up to grope your tits, sighing out in content as he watches the flesh spill out through the gaps between his fingers. And God, it’s these little additions he does on pure subconsciousness that have you throbbing around him desperately, each pulsation a cry out for him to drawl out your orgasm quickly.

“Y-you close yet pretty? Can feel you throbbing like crazy—”

Too embarrassed to admit it, you settle for a meek nod, the kind of obedience that has Beomgyu wanting to plummet his hips into you harder. Until you can’t think of anyone but him, marking the shape of his cock and every ridge and vein into your walls so that you’d only suffocate around him so snugly.

He doesn’t mind being struck by lightning if it means he can be a little greedy just this once. Stationing your hips in place to constantly hurl his pelvis against your folds, the plapping of your drenchedfolds making contact with his pelvis spiralling him into an endless rabbit hole of being enamoured by the warmth of your cunt engulfing him. The fat cockhead continues to repeatedly nudge against your g-spot ever so meanly, the stimulation making you see stars as you dumbly mumble his name over and over again in need.

“Cumming! O-oh my god ‘m cumming!” Your body tenses up as you tremble in his hold, pussy throbbing along the vein of his cock as you slowly ride out your orgasm, hands pinning him down as a smile weakly smears itself across your features. “Go on Gyu, cum inside it’s okay.”

You probably didn’t think much of it when you raspily urged him, just talking out of pure post-orgasm bliss most likely. But Beomgyu’s spilling his seed inside of you before you could even finish of your sentence, the warm fluid filling up and expanding your cunt as it spills down the side of his cock. Not enough space for it to stay buried inside without Beomgyu reluctantly pulling out and shoving his cum back inside with his fingers, eyes in awe just from glancing at how your hole remains stretched out so prettily for him.

“We didn’t even end up using the condoms I bought…and I-I don’t think I can go back to only seeing your cunt over the screen again.” A hand wipes off the sweat accumulating on your face, a bubbly laugh emerging from you as you pat him down to lay him on the bed again.

“Move in with me then, need to give Taehyun a constant reminder that the walls are thin, don’t you think?”

txt perma tag !! :

@gyutaepie @ruinxas @gyuuchuuu @chocomoas @satan-223 @whoisgami @glitteryheartbanana @bambiihee @asteroidshowers @camryn-haitani @prkhaven @yvampyr @filmnings @bloomri @lwhyuka @angelhyuka @forwinterstars @yjnwonstars @black-startxt @iheartyaemiko @hyunj00 @fancypeacepersona @page-isa @hwangjoanna @star0323 @nanilis @lorislane @basicallyanothernotebook @soohashits @missdel @swangyu @petulapetula @twinklingsparkling @dainsleif-when-playable @toastmenace @izzyy-stuff @hoonstqr @wonf1lmd @namimommii @swangyu @beomgyusluver @kookieterry

fic taglist !! : @beomelmyu @ruinxas @gyuhaze @amoebeom @beomfait @woahwoahwoahummmmm @matchacake2 @teezglitter

[tyunningism]

@alorring @page0brooklyn @zyklion @poptambxm @ilovesexymingi (for the other tags tumblr wouldnt let me put on) <3

[tyunningism]

ᴍɪssɪᴏɴ 2: ʙᴀᴄᴋsᴛᴀɢᴇ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛs !

── .✦ pairing: c.bg x reader

╰┈➤MDNI - NSFW content ahead...

Haven’t played the tutorial yet? Return to menu ! tyunningism’s note: dreamt abt desperate gyu and head since forever i need him so bad

Game file size: 7k mb (best read in light mode)

A week after your visit to Taehyun, the lovemeter depletes of your hard work— completely resetting to zero as you prepare yourself for another profusion of system messages and quests following your victory in Taehyun's mission last Saturday.

Huffing, you roll on to the warmer side of your comforter, bathing in the sun's mellow rays as the black gradient of your vision washes in to soft peaches and reds; lulling and nearly guiding you back to sleep.

With aching wrists from your questionable sleeping position last night, you extend a limp hand to your bedside table. Graining of wood invades your touch the more you struggle to find the curve of your alarm clock; hindering but regardless it angers the slump of your body to slug towards it.

11:26 in the morning, Saturday, no system messages at all. It takes you the utmost willpower you have to lift yourself from your bed. Your hair is teased and all over the place as you cross paths with your mirror— a quick shower and pampering yourself a bit will do you more good than stumbling out of the door in this state.

Shoving your towel and change of clothes under one arm you scavenge for Soobin's contact in the other. Is it too early to call him? He probably slept at the earliest at 5 so if the line goes flat, he's off and snoozing.

Spot on! The line goes flat, and you're a second away from stepping in to the pre-steamed shower when you receive a video call back seven minutes later from what you're hoping is an apologetic Soobin.

"Camera off?" He mumbles with a groggy and rough sharpness to his voice, still deep and sunken in sleep as his lips purse sloppily to mouth the vowels.

"I'm a mess right now you can't see me." Unclasped bras and stripped underwear lie itself on the bathroom floor of your apartment, turning up the volume of Soobin's call audio to hear him…better.

"Don't you always?—“

"I'm about to shower Soobin give me a break. I'm not about to flash my tits on video call." Hearing the stream of water trickle in the background his words stumble and slip over each other in a giant ridicule of a remark to your blatant words. "I—I'll let you get on with it. Wait—tell me why you called me first."

"Stop trying to hear me shower Soob!" Your chuckles are sonorous behind the glass screen of your shower; stuffy with steam and echoing walls. "What's that clothing store you and Arin went to last time? I need a closet update."

The disappointment in him reserves on his pouting lips rather than his voice as he mumbles again, "Lorenzo. It opened two weeks ago. They have a couple of pieces you'd like." The foreign name of the store rings a bell; advertised somewhere on your Instagram feed which you can’t recall— though it was trending because of some sort of hot-shot being a regular there, not exactly an incentive for you but you assume it would be for others.

“That's the one. Once I'm out of the shower I'll go and buy a bit of their inventory. Ella's begging me to go on vacay with her to Bali so I need a whole set of clothes!" Your complaints become more bitter as dripping shampoo finds refuge on your lips, eyes rid of sight as currents of water rain down on you.

"Lorenzo..for summer clothes?" Soobin's voice is slightly overpowered by the downpour of the shower as your phone rests on the sink, but you can easily make out the confusion on his face through his questioning, rollercoaster of a tone.

"Do they not sell summer- pleh! Clothes or something?" Last time you checked Arin bought two sets of summer dresses from Lorenzo and that's all you need for a three-day holiday; as long as the system doesn't send you on a mission in the middle of it.

"Lorenzo..they sell like..graphic tees, hoodies, Balenciaga's homeless collection but better—and thongs—are you wearing thongs to the beach?" One by one he lists all the different items he could remember seeing and upon the mention of 'thongs' you're immediately struck that this Lorenzo store is more of a Spencer's than a Princess Polly.

"Not quite Soob, but I'll consider wearing a pair of thongs if I'm feeling it." Your joke dawns on him for longer than it should as he wallows in silence—only the pattering of water from your shower head filling both yours and his ears.

"Good luck finding your pair of t-thongs, whatever—" A serrated ding! ends the phone call in a matter of seconds. Soobin having ended the call on an awkward note but at the same time you couldn't keep drinking litres of your shampoo each time you wanted to speak.

From the moment you step out of the shower with a towel secured tightly around your drenched hair another of those rosy system messages pops out in front of you unexpectedly.

The system makes it so darn difficult to focus on the mission when they're waving a hundred bucks in front of your face like it's nothing. There's always a catch to this sneaky system though and it's ought to be in the VIP ticket gifted to you as well after your experience with Taehyun.

You swipe on to the new icon that's now appeared; an inventory, which is pretty neat by the way considering the system can now grant you a stack if you needed it, ka-ching!— Tapping on to the ticket you skim over the information.

Panic. Successful from day one, they're a well-loved band in this and the neighbouring cities and are practically worshipped by your college they started this whole thing from scrap in. Especially the notorious drummer who lives in a whole other world to your department; you've never met nor seen him but he's been the culprit of your project partner Lila's wet dreams since you step foot on to campus. The number of times she's brought up his tongue piercing in them is to say the least..unheard of.

Aside from that? Not a clue.

Band music has never been your sort of thing so if your target's a die-hard fan of Panic then showing up as a poser fan at their concert means you'll never get close to fucking them, like ever if they're all on Lila's level.

So, with a swipe of your glazed lip gloss you whisk through the numerous beer cans your roommate Lily and her best friend Haewon must've downed in deep, drunk conversation and straight towards her door with a fisted hand ready to knock.

To your surprise Lily's already at the door with her arms crossed and head nodding off in a tired haze—obviously hungover but making an effort to talk to you before you get too busy again.

"Could hear those platforms thumping from your room Angel, you really drill my head in sometimes." She smiles and shoves at your shoulder gently; dressed head-to-toe in band merch you couldn't recognise at all but surety, she'd know something about Panic then, right?

"How else am I going to wake you from your slumber? 'm surprised she's not awake yet," an indicative finger directs towards a snoring Haewon half falling off Lily’s single bed to which you both find yourselves laughing at, "Right. Panic— you must've heard of them, right? I mean you're in the same department as all three of them aren't you?"

Lity couldn't give you any nicer of a reaction as she rolls her eyes at the mention, "Don't tell me you're in to those Chase Atlantic wannabes too." Pretty harsh for someone whose whole passion is exploring different music styles but judging from the Nmixx shirt (??) she's got going on then they must be a rival band to her favs.

"VIP tickets, gifted from uh-Lila, she couldn't go so.." It's a sad attempt at an excuse but the best you can think of in the moment without confessing to Lily that you're trying to fuck one of their fans—oh, you'd never see the light of day if that were the case.

"Long black hair, blonde streaks, tongue piercing and looks like he really loves it in the ass. No good, stay away if he offers you to head back stage." You don't even need to ask for his name to puzzle together that she's not in favour of the drummer; the same legendary tongue piercing that keeps slipping in to conversations about him like a trademark.

"Not planning on it so don't worry Lils, what's so bad about their drummer anyway?" A finger pokes at her soft cheeks which only huff more when she processes your words. "Drummer? So you do know about him after all."

As accusing as her sentence may sound you know she's serious that this drummer guy who likes butt stuff according to her isn't worth your time. Still, you feign confusion to the matter, intrigued by what could be so terrible about this drummer in the first place.

Balling her fist together she rubs it on her forehead as she recalls several annoying memories you'd love to hear one day in one of her Haewon-beer-can debrief sessions.

"I don't get why he's so popular in the department apart from looking like some budget emo who rails his fans after a show like—God, Beomgyu can't you keep it in your pants for once?!" Anger is evident in the way her speech converts to spiteful bullets of spit as she complains about the band man, supposedly Beomgyu.

"And can you name me one good song that Beomgyu's band has? One that's a bit niche so I don't pass off as out of place."

"You're making me sound like a fan! But..I guess Take My Half is..decent." And Lily's seriously all you need to create a perfect alibi for yourself if you wanted to fit in tonight, and naturally that leaves you with meeting the dress code!

Crossroads merge and divert in to one big blend of concrete as you navigate through rows of boutiques and sketchy stores you swear are only open for money laundering. Lorenzo wasn't your first choice for summer clothes given what Soobin told you this morning, but for a band gig? A literal haven of clothes fit for it. Because the second you take a turn from the main road, you're face-to-face with a mannequin chained in handcuffs and a bikini for a top in the window display at the end of the alleyway. Soobin and Arin went here to shop? Jesus.

Heavy metal penetrates your alarmed ears from your very spot near the entrance. The store is filled to the brim with what Soobin mentioned; carcasses of—you don't even know if you'd call them jeans with all those Intentional rips in them— and graphic tees with splattered print and funky fonts you found the most difficult bit to read.

And while you're not a fan of Panic in any sense you can at least conjure an image of what their fans would wear to one of their popular gigs— anything from this store.

Hung on the 25% off sale rack is a backless black dress compressed between striking green leggings and another of those Balenciaga homeless collection jeans as Soobin calls it. It's smooth to the touch with metal detailing along its seams that spelt ‘Angel’ down the side in pretty calligraphy. Holy shit— if this dress wasn’t meant for you then this is one hell of a coincidence; picking it off the rack you scavenge for the closest mirror to you to visually try on the dress.

“You’re so fucking enticing in that.” Turning your head towards the source of the husk of a voice you're met with a man, no shorter than 5'10, tapping against the clothing racks with ring engrossed fingers studded with steel snakes and symbols. His hair is covered under a black hat; low on his head to hide his pretentious stare you could sense all over you as he drinks in the image of the dress fitted against your body.

"Thanks. It suits me doesn't it?" The male shifts his weight on to both legs again, hands in his pockets as he makes himself comfortable getting closer to you—squeezing in to the tiny gap between you and the stack of graphic tees behind.

Quick to act on his feet he's twisting one of his rings down the slender of his finger to bestow in to your hands, a small offering of 'peace' he says before he's tugging on your shoulders from behind with a hand snatching the dress in to his possession.

You're about to question his behaviour when all of a sudden the backless one-piece is pushed to your chest again with the addition of two cold, ring-bound fingers maneuvering your chin to follow his own artistic vision as he swerves the dress from all angles in deep thought.

"An accessory would make this look bomb I'm not fucking joking-" The male sinks his teeth on to his bottom lip as though he had the perfect idea in mind already. "Did Lorenzo always have personal stylists here?" You joke lightheartedly, waiting for the employee's next eureka moment on fashion advice.

Hearing this he retracts his hands from you, digging in to his pockets for his phone which he tosses carelessly in to your cupped ones with worry in case it dropped. "Not a personal stylist, but if you'd like me to be yours—“ His eyes scan the lettering of the dress on the hanger once more, “Angel, then I’d be glad to do so.”

Target.. Choi Beomgyu!? Memories of Lily's warnings retrace in your head, completely baffling you as you stare with squinted eyes at him. The system's offered you an option with the ticket— assuming that it'll give you the best chance at obtaining Beomgyu's heart points tonight— except trying to fraud yourself as a fan in front of the actual drummer itself lands you in a tough position.

The drummer believes you're digging in to the pockets of your sweats for your own phone, until you pull out a gold-inked card he recognises on the spot.

"No need Beomgyu, I'll see you tonight." There's something about the way his demeanor switches like a flicker of a lamp in to a sheepish one; at a loss of words as the sound of your platforms tune out in to the heavy metal the closer you walk towards the till.

As the worker scans your item to a total of 79 dollars you're inching in to your pocket when you hear the beep! of the card machine in front of you.

"It's on me Angel, and Ronnie, let me have this on the house- please?" He was nowhere near as whiny as he is now; begging for the matching garter dangling from his fingers, but you can understand the hype surrounding him on campus now. Anyone could just sort of kick him around all they want and he'll come lapping back like some sort of dog the moment he's asked and it’s that high that keeps them lurching back for more of the drummer’s synergy.

"Beomgyu just because I'm your fan doesn't mean you have to—“ in honest truth you're fucking giddy that he's paid for your clothes without you even needing to touch a dime of your hundred-dollar bill, despite your refusal of his Good Samaritan act.

"Down payment, for what you said earlier. You'll be there for me later Angel, right? 77 clifford street at 7." The same subtle whine to his voice completely hypnotises you in to focusing on the pout of his lips and his expectant eyes; all brown and puppy-like in rivalry with the jagged and rough cut of his hair, it’s all so cruelly impossible to say no to him like this.

“Who said I was going for you?" The worker hands over your shopping bag stuffed messily with the dress and garter Beomgyu had ever so kindly purchased for you. The paper packaging swings on your arm with your pockets still feeling full on your way to the exit of the store, not wanting to face him if he took your teasing to heart and decided to refund.

"I'll know when you choose whether or not to wear the garter." He'll be happy to know that you’ll be showing off to him at barricade if you're trying to hook up with him after the concert.

Not wanting to extend the back-to-back teasing you slip outside back in to the alleyway— the sky greyer and dimmer than earlier giving you a sign to head home to get ready for the concert if you wanted to make an effort towards your looks.

Around the corner just like you expected, a couple steps outside of the store and the system's actively bombarding your vision with another set of notices.

Tonight’s going to be long— and you can feel it in your legs as well what’s awaiting you.

“How do I loo—“

"Smoking hot. If you're not bringing home one of the band members then they either love dropping the soap in the men's showers or can't see for shit." Barely a 180-degree spin in and she's fawning and clapping for you already; compliments on the verge of moans as she clicks her fingers in approval.

"If no one's fucking you tonight I certainly will, and I won't be sparing that dress ANY mercy do you hear me Angel !!??" Megan quickly sneaks past the boundary of your living room in to the bathroom to give you small air kisses all around. And you sincerely hope she doesn't get too close in case her lip stick finds its way on your neck to which you'd have to explain later..a horror movie plot waiting to happen.

"Okay Megs, think I'm ready, and this time I don't want to hear the aux playing soundtracks from Tubatu's—“ Closing your mouth in an instant you raise Megan's suspicions who's now going to delay your arrival to the venue by at least half an hour. Shit— you completely forgot that the system eradicated the entire existence of the dating sim you’re keeping a secret with your life, you’re still unused to Megan’s silence about the game when two weeks ago she would’ve been spamming your messages with its updates.

"Because I heard it in a—uh, cab last week and it was—oh my god it was horrible." Collecting your purse from the coffee table you make a bee-line for the door of your apartment with a set of keys in hand to hopefully beckon Megan to drop your slip of words before it could escalate further.

“Won't ever be a problem for me because I don't know who the fuck Tewbatu is!" Sometimes you're really glad that Megan can be a little daft.

Queued outside the venue is a whole city gathering of pumped fans holding little banners and signs which you blame the system for not mentioning because now that you're looking at it, everyone has one like—every damn person here has a huge sign for Beomgyu solely.

"Getting home is going to be hell..I've never seen anything like it." Megan grips the steering wheel to make a sharp turn down an emptier road where she drops you off and gives you a thumbs up before speeding down the main road back to her slum of an apartment.

The queue passes by faster than you expected as groups of fans push through the limited entrance in one go— at least 5 of them coming out of the brawl with one soft tissue injury to get as close to barricade as they could with general admission.

With your VIP ticket you're headed down a straight-forward path to the centre stage, stopping at the sides of the barricade rather than squeezing in to the middle with the other VIPs. There's nothing but a silent bass in the background, the stage only topped with a drum kit, two microphone stands and an overhead light that casted a violet glow in the centre and it only strikes you now that you don't know the words to any of their songs. Learning the lyrics completely slipped your mind in your ‘flawless’ plan.

Distracted by the reward notification and the sound of your lovemeter filling up you forget the situation at hand at trying to prevent a disaster. You attempt to shift from your position to somewhere further back where Beomgyu can't see your mumbling and chewed on lyrics but the pushing of the crowd behind you as the VIPs start to line up waiting for Panic to come on stage became impossible to permeate unless you want to be crushed between drunken and slouched bodies.

Heavy bass then thumps in your ear to match the pace of your racing heart, thrilling and upbeat but descending in to a more sensual and slower one as the lights of the stage dim further and the only thing your senses could pick up on were the unrestrained cheers and screams of fans from all over the city chanting predominantly Beomgyu's name in unison.

And on cue he follows out behind a trail of two other men dressed fully in a leather gilet and fluorescent-dyed hair which only heightened in brightness under the harsh stage lighting. Your target is striking in his Lorenzo jeans you thought were impeccably hard to pull off but he never fails to surprise you time and time again when he reveals his band-tee of the night under his matching gilet.

'Angel' in white fabric marker that ran down his back in one continuous line. Deliberately meant for you and there's no mistake in how his eyes scan the mass of sweaty bodies for the dress he was so keen on gifting earlier. Stood timidly in your metal lettered 'Angel' dress your eyes sparkle with anticipation that he'd be able to find you in this blur of heads.

And when he does make eye contact, he's strict on keeping his eyes on you for every second that he's not looking at his score. Jagged streaks of black hair stick to his forehead initiated by the muggy dew of his sweat as he batters his drum sticks to the beat of their opening performance; lightweight and lifting, a real show for their talent besides their blessed genetics.

Raw and emotion-abundant vocals spark fiery enthusiasm in their fans and you slowly find yourself blending in as you sway naturally to the music; clanging cymbals ring and echo in your ears as you mouth the lyrics you've quickly caught up on to an amused Beomgyu—lacking in fan service today as he hasn't paid any attention the right side of the venue since he came out on stage.

You think you've missed something when your eyes are alarmingly opened from your trance by a roar of moans cloaked as cheers from behind. The crush of bodies surrounding you vibrates with excitement under the thick smog of sweat and spilled drinks mixed with overpowering women's perfume. A blueish purple haze spotlights Beomgyu who whips his hair in sync to his mental metronome; his tongue stuck out to reveal the metal ball prodding in the centre of the muscle of his tongue that drove everyone witnessing it mad, and rightfully so.

There's been countless moments throughout the night when you really get a glimpse of how alluring he is on stage— undoubtedly born for this as he captures the crowd with a smug grin that'll be rewatched on their highlights for days.

And take for instance when he's really pushing the limits. Repeatedly sending charming winks towards your direction or a small 'call me' sign with the shake of his ring-clamped hands that created uproar so hectic he had to end his talk early—ending it on a note directed for you.

"Nice seeing you tonight, Angel." With how your stomach twists at the nickname you're honestly glad the system stopped you from changing it, and you can bet with your life that the whole crowd is leaving with their underwear damp as the band exits off the stage— Beomgyu tossing a drum stick in the air for a lucky fan but keeping the other tightly grasped in his palm and pressed up to his lips in a seductive kiss before disappearing behind the curtain as well.

One thing’s for sure, once you return you’re doing a whole deep dive on this man.

But what do you now that the gig's over? Is he just going to walk away just like that? The system hasn't sent a single hint apart from to dress up and go and as you try to discreetly swipe through the game screen in front of you a surge of people shove and squeeze past your shoulders through to the exits, causing you to lose your balance on your overly tall platforms.

"Woah—shit!—" Closing your eyes to embrace for impact with the drink stained floors you're pleasantly surprised to be met with…a bulked arm around your waist?

"Quick talk backstage if you would please follow me." Reading the badge clipped on to the plain black polo you finally get the idea of how you were going to meet Beomgyu. Having a security guard to come fetch you— so this is what the system meant by backstage secrets…

You dawdle behind the burly security guard who redirects you from the main flock of the crowd and past the staff entrance where your eyes are burned awake with white hospital-esque lighting. It's a lengthy walk to where you're headed but judging by the security guard's silence you can tell he's taking you to Beomgyu's makeup room for some…relief.

"Does he always bring girls backstage like this?" Completely professional and bound to protocol the security guard doesn't answer nor give a shake or nod of his head. He's set on following Beomgyu's instructions which strictly were: 'take the girl with the black angel dress to me after the concert.'

And when your attendance is made known by a double knock to the door labelled in permanent marker 'Panic' the door swings wide with a still breathless Beomgyu.

You see it clearer now, his post-show makeup; pencil eyeliner and eyeshadow that smudged attractively towards his eyebrows for an edgier look. His lips are damp from licking them a total of 97 times during the concert but still showing faint hues of a light pink tint to them that made him hard to resist kissing.

The drummer pulls you inside the room so he could bring the door to a close, drawing attention from the still-working staff giving you looks knowing they'd have a different mess to clean up later. And you're not shy of looks from his bandmates either— manspreading on the couch and patting their faces with towels that are then ruined with hair dye running down their faces.

"Angel, don't tell me you're here for Jeno and Jay, are you?" Beomgyu pulls a face when he realises your attention is off him, his chin resting on your shoulder as he points towards the rest of his band that he blows childish raspberries to.

"You were good on stage, really good up close." And when you speak of him with such awe it's like a tail wags behind him as he buries his head in to your neck; nose inhaling your scent that causes your breath to hitch. "What should I do?~ Turns out Angel's new favourite in Panic is me now, did you like the shirt? I wore it for you specifically."

The guitarist from the couch chuckles lowly, heading back to scrolling on his phone with an open mouth just waiting to spout a remark.

"Don't get involved with that loser beautiful, you're better off with us instead." He taunts you with a fingering motion that upsets the drummer, and as much as you'd like to accept his offer he'll have to wait for another time if you wanted to complete your mission by today.

"Ignore Jay Angel, you know what you're here for don't you, I'll make you cum ten times harder with my tongue alone than his limp dick ever can!" Jeno can barely slip in a chuckle before Beomgyu's pushing you forwards past snooping staff in to his very own practice room— soundproofed and fitted with a long couch and drum kit.

A drum stick lays lone on the couch; the exact one he kissed before leaving stage and you just can't take your eyes off it without your hand brushing your own lips.

Beomgyu notices your interest and runs to pick it off the couch; waving it around in his hands with a mischievous grin. "Usually I'd throw away both of these bad boys into the crowd but, I saved this one for you, specially kissed by yours truly." One end of the drumstick in his hand is jabbed just between your collarbones, sliding down and over the fabric of your dress that scrunched and indented to reveal the curve of your chest down to your belly button.

"Smell s' good Angel, what lotion do you use?" You shake your head with no knowledge to give him apart from the fact it's Lily's that you borrow, letting him manhandle you to sit down on the couch as he situates himself on the wood-decked floor.

Leaning down, he prods the drumstick between your thighs to pry them open, whimpering softly when you finally give him a glimpse of what's been camping in his mind all day. Red laced underwear that runs small on you, hugging at the sensitive flesh tightly as he slides the drumstick down between the folds of your clothed cunt— the sensation causing you to instinctively close your thighs to which Beomgyu spreads further this time.

"Drummer boy, just eat me out already don't bother with the teasing." You're austere with him as you shift down lower on the couch's backrest, giving him a full-view of your panties— holding back a moan that bubbles in his throat when he sees your slick starting to dampen the red in to a dark burgundy.

"Boss me around more Angel— you're so fucking sexy in this." His teeth gnaw at the black garter snug around your thigh, pulling it down in one go with his premolars just below your knee. "All dolled up for me, wore this only for me didn't you?" You hum and jut your hips towards his nose which makes contact with your slick-soaked panties, inhaling your scent before he purses his lips to give gentle licks between the dip, making out with your pussy as he keeps his hands between his lap.

Beomgyu is wide-eyed as he digs himself further, trying to push his tongue through the thin fabric and inside of you; groaning whenever you pressed your clit in to his nose every time his tongue felt all too real against you the minute your underwear melted in poor defence to the saliva dripping from his mouth.

Said he liked it when you bossed him around didn't he? So that's exactly what you do, hands pulling at the intertwined black and blonde hair covering his forehead to detach him from his makeout session with your underwear. His eyes roll back to their whites when the slight plain at his scalp burns in to ashes of pleasure, a breathy moan trembling from his lips as he watches you slip off your panties down an ankle; unzipping your platforms in the process.

"If you're going to eat me out then at least do it properly mutt." You pick up on the way he loses his confident attitude from earlier completely. Flushed ears and teary as he looks up at you with slitted eyes; fluttering his long lashes open and shut. He's absolutely psyched for you as your hand remains tightly gripped at his hair, biting down on his lip that blushes pink with blood when he lets go as you lean in to kiss him.

The kiss is wet with no direction at all, globs of spit exchanging on to the corner of your lips as Beomgyu's tongue rims over your teeth and the cool metal— that tongue piercing you've been eyeing since he stuck it out at the gig tonight— it glides and bumps at your tongue, slippery and sensual as it clashes with yours and it doesn't surprise you when Beomgyu suddenly pulls away. A hand stacked with rings rubs at his pink mushroom tip peeking through the band of his boxers; you don’t recall him unzipping his fly at any point but the male looks close to tears as he pants, close to cumming already.

"L-let me taste you please, Angel. I'm really good at it I swear, I'll eat you until you're shaking…m-more than that even just let me feel you on my tongue."

"Think you deserve it after creating such a big mess?" His eyes widen and divert side-to-side to find the issue; being the pool of saliva and drool left by him at your lips that ended up dripping down to your neck which you wipe at, presenting it to him on your fingers in disapproval.

"A-ah! 'm sorry, won't do it again I swear I'll clean it off Angel—“ Your grip on his hair tightens which causes him to wince and clench his teeth, the rubbing motion around his tip changing into a tight squeeze as you pull him towards the couch, resting your head on the arm rest as you let go of him. "I'll forgive you if you can make me cum harder than the guitarist with the limp dick." You yawn to egg him on.

The male leans above you; brain short-circuiting when the wetness drips along your thighs and down to your ass and he wastes no time in meeting your cunt at eye level to sop and lap it all up! <3

"Mnngh-tastes like heaven Angel, I could be s-stuck between your legs for years, fuck.." His tongue drags upwards along your glistening cunt, pulsing and practically inviting Beomgyu for more and the drummer can't help but beg you to smother his face with your pussy with a broken and whiny voice!

"At this rate I'll be cumming in a decade; s-shit, speed it up Gyu." Like an obedient dog he's burying his face in to your cunt, the ball of his piercing poking and swirling at your sensitive clit that he sucks and nibbles on, tugging on the nub that shoots your hands up to reach back for his head, pressing his nose back in to your folds as you lean your head back in bliss.

"T-that's it mutt, so you weren't stupid-hah, afterall…" Beomgyu continues to lap at your cunt with fervor. He's practically merged with your pussy and stuck to it, refusing to come up for even a second to breathe. A decorative pillow situates itself beneath him and his hard cock, rutting in to it at vigorous speed as he spews high pitched whimpers whenever the pleasure became too much for his pussy-drunk head !!

And as you dip your head further in to the plush of the arm rest you suddenly remember the elastic lace garter still hooked around your knee, a horny ridden thought popping in to your head that you wanted to test.

“Beomgyu ah!— stop for a minute or else I won't let you finish." Your words bare heavy restrictions on him as he reluctantly pull away. Strings of saliva connecting from your hole to his piercing makes his dick twitch as he kneels back on his legs, hands obediently reserved to his side as he waits for your next instruction.

But fuck—Beomgyu didn't think you could get any hotter when you stretched the garter from your knee wide, fitting it over his head and letting it snap in to place with a loud slap!

"Ngh— Angel you— what's this for?" Dumb pre-cum slathered hands paw at the itchy material, a cute pout on his face as his bangs slick to the side awaiting your answer. "Your very own collar. Need to keep you in control if you keep moaning and barking over some pussy hm? Are you always like this? Moaning and whimpering like a slut Gyu? So loud you probably want the guys out there to hear how desperate you are don't you? Trying to show off to the others the moment you've got my pussy in your face, so whiny! really should punish you like the dirty mutt you are." He doesn't try to prove you wrong, just moaning like a bitch in heat after every syllable of your words with a tongue lolled and embarrassed hands covering his dick; pitiful and aching red.

"Punish—Punish me please! Tug on my hair again a-ah!..wanna cum please Angel.." Following exactly that you shove his head back between your legs but not close enough for his tongue to reach with your hands dragging and pulling at his hair— his hands gripped around your thigh to keep him buckled in place.

"Fuck yourself on the pillow first, then I'll consider cumming on your tongue." Beomgyu's eyebrows furrow in confusion at the punishment…because, because he's been looking forward to having you squirm on his tongue all along!! You can't just expect him to cum on his own with a pillow instead of your pussy— God that's worse than edging !! :(

The grip on his makeshift collar contracts around the unblemished skin of his neck, causing him to slightly choke back any complaints as he glances back up at you with glossy eyes.

"Come on Beomgyu, show me the little slut you are—I don't have all day for this. I could leave any moment now, you probably need this more than I do but you wanna make me cum right?"

That alone is all it needs to snap him back in to action, his head shaking no as you pull the garter-collar an inch closer to you. "Y–yes I'll do it!! I'll make myself cum on the pillow like a good slut!" Degrading eyes strip him of all his shame as he props up the pillow and fluffs it, a dip created in the centre as he rubs his leaking cock repeatedly in a moaning mess. It's a priceless sight to watch as his tongue stretches out in a cycle of pants, gasping whenever you shifted the collar against his skin as you watched him embarrass himself.

It's shameful, so so dirty, but Beomgyu relishes in the way you watch in entertainment and it only increases the chase towards an orgasm with each buck of his hips in to the soft material, rubbing his cock all over with a fuzzy mind.

"S-shit!— Gonna cum, Angel! Gonna cum!" Watching as he spills his load over the grey pillow you feel your own pussy clenching; desperate for some action and urging for your hand to hook on to his collar, a hand in his hair as well to drag him forwards and let you finish.

Beomgyu doesn't let you retract on your promise before he's latched back on to your cunt. His sensitive dick softens from his release but jolts at even the tiniest movements as he works his tongue tirelessly on your clit. Sucking and lapping and what not over the flesh as the mix of spit and slick drools down his chin.

When he finds the pulsing nub of your clit again with ease he directs all his attention towards it. Flicking the metal ball on his flat tongue at incomparable speed closer to vibrations than needy puppy-licks; cold and prodding on the sensitive bundle of nerves with each stroke of his tongue and you can cross your heart when you say that you've never felt anything like it.

"Mmh!—Fuck that's it Beomgyu! Gonna make me cum so hard shit shit shit!" The drummer continues to hammer down on your drenched cunt, the grip on your thighs so hard they're bound to leave marks as his nails dig in to the soft skin the more you pulse and throb on his tongue.

Shortly after you're crying in pleasure at unsound-proofable volume with the addition of Beomgyu's whimpers vibrating further in to your orgasm as you coat his tongue in your sweet cum! You should see the dazed look on his face as he lifts his face drenched form the bottom down in your fluids, addicted to your taste as he finds himself digging back for more.

"Who would've known that the drummer of Panic likes being pushed around like this?" Your giggles become melodies in his ears as he finds himself infatuated with you, hugging around your waist with his head glued to your stomach to throw a small fit. "You can't..can't tell anyone about me being a loser for pussy or anything—hah..got it Angel?"

"I'm sure you were whimpering loud enough for everyone outside there to be gossiping for a year Choi Beomgyu." The red lace underwear you wore still hooked around your ankle is pulled off and handed in to the possession of the shy drummer who looks in awe as you zip back up your platforms, pull your dress back down and unlock the door to the practice room in one smooth exit.

The system pops up with your rewarding messages, an easier victory this time round that you still applaud regardless as you leave the stylist’s room in silence and plus, you’re bound to be in a couple of his lyrics in their upcoming album that's for sure.

A/N: I GOT IT DONE BEFORE I LEFT THAILAND !!! Personal victory for Emme ^^ I’ve also found a new job as a gcse tutor so no more of taking long orders for now !! Unless i’m not fit for it 😓😓 But that does mean I’ll be busy since it’s an online zoom call thing.

taglist: @gyutaepie @ruinxas @bamtor1sss @chocomoas @satan-223 @whoisgami @lovesickchoi @akitfffr @komigyu @pengningie @vvjolyneee @glitteryheartbanana @bambiihee @beestvng @valthelover @sweetsoobie @seokqt @fairfootedflekk @alorring

taglist is open !! 🎀

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[fuckici]

𓈒 ˙ 🍪 ּ 👡⠀ . ࣪𓇻 ݁

[froopis]

Cosmic Love ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🧚🏻₊˚ʚ 🪷 ₊˚ ⋆ ˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚 ⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆

[yvestually]

‎♫ ₊˚ ⋆｡ ♪₊ °♬ ˚. ⁺ ౨ৎ

divider by. @venuscaotico ౨ৎ

[v-ico]

　　☖　 　💧　　 　⌣ 　 　⿸

　　☖　 　🦜　　 　⌣ 　 　⿸

[gaecoo]

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘉𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦,

𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘥, 𝘴𝘢𝘥 𝐆 𝐈 𝐑 𝐋 *️⃣ ⠀ ━╋ ⠀

[dahlia-kiss]

[stderrhoon]

[sughoolc]

𝖾𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗌

⁺　　.　　 ﾟ　　.　　　⊹

𝅄𔑘ೀ 𝖾𝗅𝖺 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎

𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗌 . . .

[alorring]

# YOUNG LOVE ✿﹐ #H.K 🐚

# description: reader has gotten into an arguement with her boyfriend ranting to her childhood best friend, unknowing he has liked her for the longest. he then suggests for her to break up with him while reader fights back declaring she “loves” him. kai then storms out but comes back soon.

# warning(s): mentions of perverts, mentions of just wanting a smash, cursing, reader has attachment issues.

not proofread!

༺༻

y/n and Soobin got into an argument about Soobins work. “You always do this Soobin! You always ditch me for your stupid work and you do this… countless times!” Soobin rubs his temple before looking into your eyes. “I’ve told you countless times before y/n, everyone knows work is more important!” “And you said countless times you’ll fix it! I just can’t believe you anymore Soobin, you told me you’ll find more time for me, yet here we are.” She says with tears in her eyes. “Okay y/n! If you can’t fucking handle it why don’t you just find a man to love you instead!”

Y/n just stood staring at Soobin in disbelief. “Are you serious Soobin.. you’d rather send me off to another guy instead of trying to fix it? Fuck you! Seriously.” Y/n then turned and put her shoes on before storming out the house, already dialing her childhood best friend on the phone. “Kai.. can I come over? I just really need comfort..” she said in a dreaded tone. “Yes of course! No need to ask, you have a spare key anyway.” Y/n smiled loving how her best friend kept his cheery spirit. “Ok, I’ll be there soon, bye!” She said before hanging up the phone.

Soon she finally reached her friends house, slipping in the key and turning it to unlock the door and stepping in. “Oh y/n, you’re here!” Kai’s younger sister, Bahiyyih said as she ran to hug you. “Hey hiyyih! Is kai in his room?” She nodded as you bowed to his and greeted his parents and older sister Lea. You headed up the stairs to head into Kai’s room, which he was already about to head out. “Oh, y/n! you’re here, come in!” He said as he plastered that adorable smile on his face, which was contagious, making you smile too.

“So, what did you guys argue about this time?” Your eyes widened. You didn’t tell him anything, how does he know?! “So I was right, you guys did argue..” He sighed. “You guys always argue, how aren’t you tired of him!” You looked down and sighed. “Trust me, I AM tired, sick and tired! I just… I just still love him..” Kai’s face scrunched up as if he was… jealous? “You love him? All you guys do is argue! He isn’t the same as you’ve known in high school, he’s a grown man now! He couldn’t give two shits about you! He only cares about money, that’s all. And in high school, he just wanted to get in your pants!” You looked up in disbelief. Why was he saying all this? Why is he acting like he knows everything?

“Kai, you don’t know that! Stop assuming like you know everything! Are you the one dating Soobin? No, I am! So how would you know how he is under the surface? You don’t, so don’t say anything!” Kai scoffed and turned to the other side. “Yeah I know because I’m a man myself! All-“ you cut him off before he could finish. “All men aren’t the same! So don’t finish it! Soobin is different, he isn’t like those perverts.” “Oh really? He’s not? Are you his friend? Are you the person he runs to to talk shit about his own girlfriend and how annoying she is? Are you, y/n?” You tear up at his words.

Why would he say all this.. “Kai.. why do you even care? Huh?! Why are you so indulged in my relationship!? It has nothing to do with you!” “It does, because you have something to do with me!” “What do I have something to do with you?! Why do you care so much that it involves me?” “Because I’m inlove with you!” .. what..? Your childhood best friend was inlove with you..? “Wait kai… it makes no sense what..” He sighed. “I’m serious. I’m inlove with you y/n. Do you know how I felt when you got with Soobin, my friend? When I’ve liked you for the longest I can remember? And now you saying you love him when you all just argue?! It hurts like hell, y/n.”

You were so stunned.. “Kai.. why are you doing this..? Me and Soobin are still together.” He finally looked you in the eye and you could see tears in his eyes as your heart felt like it had fallen apart seeing him cry. “After me confessing my love for you you’re still worried about you and Soobin..? What should I even expect at this point” he scoffed before he pushed past you to storm off.” Seeing your friend that you’ve known for 20 years has finally snapped. Why tho? Was it because of love?

You wanted to storm after Kai, but you felt as if it would be best to leave him until he got better. Little did you know waiting for a few days turned into weeks, which turned into months. Should you finally speak up? Should you apologize? What should you do? You don’t feel the same you do but you don’t want to lose your best friend, the only person you could really call that. Of course you and Soobin broke up, Kai’s words got to you. Once you confronted him about the shit talk he admitted he was just a pervert and needed the title of a lover. Which hurt you yes, but you didn’t let it show.

Before you thought of contacting Kai, he contacted you before you could. So he was thinking of you… that made you happy and you don’t know why. You open your phone to see the message he had sent, smiling seeing the contact “hyu 🐧🤍”. “I’m sorry for lashing out and just leaving like for for 2 months. I was just really pissed and got upset :(( I’m so sorry, can we meet?” You pout, knowing you’re the one who should apologize, not your sweet sweet best friend. “Yes of course! We can meet Kai and I missed you sm during these 2 months :( I can’t wait to see you! Where do you want to meet?” You eagerly texted back, sitting in chat waiting for a response which didn’t take long. “The park we always used to eat ice cream at after grade 7? I miss that haha”.

You smile admiring how cute he is before replying with a quick “yes” before getting ready. After getting ready you walked out the on the way to the destination, looking up at the clouds, noticing how they’re dark and heavy. The sky’s also darker too, but that could be the least of your worries. You’re finally talking to your best friend again! You’ve missed him so bad, you won’t let this slip from your hands. Once you reach the location you see Kai, his back faces towards you. You couldn’t stifle your smile finally seeing him again in person instead of online (you were stalking 😭) .

His face lights up as he finally sees you again, quickly running to give you a hug. “Y/n! I can finally see you again.. how have you been?” He immediately checks up on you, making your heart flutter. “I’ve been doing fine hyu, just missing you like crazy..” you watch his expression as a hint of blush creeps on his face before he turns serious. “Okay, what u wanted to talk about was why did you never reply that day? When I poured out my heart to you? Why did you just… remember Soobin again? It was about me and you, not him and you.” He pouts as he finishes. You look down. You don’t know why you did it actually. You were so attached to Soobin you couldn’t imagine anything else but you two and him. That’s why you completely ignored Kai’s feelings, thinking you and Soobin were going to thrive.

“Kai I… first let me start off by saying I am so sorry. I never meant to just ignore your feelings like that and not contact you apologizing first. And.. to be honest. I don’t know. I was really attached to Soobin and you know how I get when I’m attached… I just can’t imagine anyone else messing up us and I just try to focus on what me and them are going to be. I’m so sorry..” you say, looking at his eyes the whole time. Kai just stared at you before replying. “Well, I still feel that way. And I don’t think anything will change that. I’ll forever be inlove with you Y/n. No matter what happens or who comes into it, my feelings will never fade.” You smile at him.

Throughout your time away from him, it made you realize how much you actually needed Kai. He is your best friend after all since diapers basically, so you don’t want to lose him. But aside from the best friend title, you feel like you developed romantic feelings for Kai. You want to love him with everything and you just want to be with him, right under his nose. You never realized it until recently but you love Kai. And not in the friendship way, you love him. “Kai I… I feel like.. I like you back, but then again, I just got out of a relationship with Soobin so I might be a little confused. Maybe we could.. take things slow? And maybe I’ll become sure of how I feel.”

His eyes brightened before he took your hands in his. “Take all the time you need, I promise you y/n I will wait however long you need. Just tell me when you’re ready okay? I’ll be right here.” You smile at him. He was always so cute and cheerful. That mood suddenly ruined by a loud clap of thunder, making you both flinch. “Ahh.. the clouds were dark before I left the house.. it may rain today..” you speak. Kai just giggled and grabs your hand and runs to his car. “That’s fine! Let’s go drinking and eat tteokbokki for now, you love doing that in this weather, don’t you?” You smile. ‘so this is what young love is..’

—————————————————

დ 💌 authors note: AUUUGGHHH that was my first fic I REALLY really hope I did well 😓😓🙏 feed back would be highly appreciated and/or tips! If you have any recommendations make sure to drop them in my mailbox 💟 love you always, see you next time!

[bambicito]

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ི❀ ✧ Sueños efímeros

[s-ilueta]

𓌼⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒 𓈒 ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ͏𓊌͟ ͟ ͟ ͏ ͟ ͟ ͏ 𓏶

[si-eunnis]

Es-tu honnête avec moi ? ꯳⃘꤫ ㅤ͡ ̵̼͓̥͒̾ @cott3ge

[chaey2k]

    ⠀クロー I'll hide this unrequited feeling

 Forever and ever   /⁠ᐠ_ ꞈ _ᐟ⁠\ 🪞🐈