Warnings: SMAU!! daniela x f!reader, enemies to lovers trope, and secret🥺
Sypnosis: During a live interview, the members of 4STRA, the chaotic new global girl group under JYP Entertainment, were asked: “Do you think you can surpass KATSEYE’s fame?”
While the other members gave humble, polite answers, Y/N couldn’t help herself. With her trademark chaotic confidence, she blurted out: “Yes.” And when she casually made a backhanded compliment about KATSEYE’s latest hit, it was captured on video and went viral immediately.
A few days later, the six members of KATSEYE finally saw the clip—and chaos ensued. Fans of both groups, Comets and Eyekons, erupted into a full-blown fan war, analyzing every word and gesture. While the whole group was annoyed, Daniela Avanzini was the most pissed off of all, her glare practically setting the internet on fire.
Now, 4STRA is trapped in unwanted drama, and Y/N is painted as bold, fearless… and reckless. Between viral headlines, backstage tension, and fan chaos, Y/N and Daniela are destined to collide—and what starts as rivalry slowly becomes messy, chaotic, and maybe… something more.
summary. After debuting, hype came to the conclusion that Katseye needed a seventh member. So, when you joined, the girls who were used to being six weren’t exactly thrilled about the idea. As a result, they each started doing things individually to try to make you want to leave the group. But their methods… are quite peculiar.
summary. After debuting, hype came to the conclusion that Katseye needed a seventh member. So, when you joined, the girls who were used to being six weren’t exactly thrilled about the idea. As a result, they each started doing things individually to try to make you want to leave the group. But their methods… are quite peculiar.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ you give yourself three rules as you make it onto the women’s volleyball team: 1. don’t fail any classes, 2. don’t get kicked off the team, and 3. don’t fall in love with any of your teammates. the first two are easy enough. but after meeting the team’s broody, guarded team captain, you realize you’ll have to try very hard not to fall in love with sophia laforteza.
ˎˊ˗ 🌌 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ୭˚. ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️
➴ pairing: volleyball captain!sophia laforteza x f!volleyball player!reader.
➴ genre + wc: 15k, slow burn, onesided rivals to lovers, angst and fluff, ice queen sophia, she turns mommy so fast, reader is lowkey a big dork.
➴ you might want to tune in...: pov - ariana grande. ♫
┈─★ a/n: my first sophia fic <3 long overdue and now i'm lowkey addicted i fr miss being a sophia bias..... hope you guys enjoy, lmk what u think!! <3
“cyclones’ beloved libero retiring due to injury.”
you remember reading the article, at the end of your first semester in community college. your best friend put the idea in your head. malibu is a 6 hour drive from your small town, but you hop on the bus with a crazy, stupid idea, and pray it’s crazy enough to work.
you step into the gym and let out a deep breath. this is your ticket into something bigger.
“hi, um, y/n y/ln,” you greet the coach, recognizing her from all the articles you had read. “i emailed you guys.”
the assistant coach perches his arms on his hips and gives you a look of disbelief. “a walk on?”
you swallow down nervously. it’s not ideal, to be infiltrating this practice before their season has even started, a shot in the dark in the hopes that they haven’t already started training up a new libero. what even is your game plan? waltz up, show off your skills, and pray they see your potential enough to recruit you on the spot?
(well, yes, that is the plan, but it doesn’t make it any less intimidating to have all these eyes start to draw to you, as if you’re invading their secret space.)
you try to avoid the attention your presence is bringing to you and stay focused on the conversation with the two coaches.
“freshman?” they ask.
“sophomore,” you clarify, before clearing your throat nervously. “i play libero.”
“why didn’t i see you during the off season?” he asks.
“i played club, i was homeschooled,” you explain simply, as they both turn to each other to review something between themselves. you feel so awkward, an outsider, dressed up to play, to beg for a chance to join a team that’s already got so much synergy between them.
“i remember you—” the coach says, but before he can say anything else, there’s the sharp crack of a ball landing directly in between the two of you. you jump back in shock, looking up to meet the intense gaze of a dark haired girl, eyes fixed on you. you swallow down nervously, and she walks up with a calculated coldness that makes your chest tense.
“this team hasn’t had a walk-on in years,” the girl says sharply. you’re shocked about how much she’s heard despite you guys talking quietly. did the coaches mention you and your impromptu tryout today? you try to flash her a smile to indicate you’re no harm, but she instantly sharpens her eyes at you. “not sure why you’re smiling. arrogance isn’t cute.”
her thick, dark hair is pulled back into a perfect ponytail, kept out of her eyes by a wide headband. her eyes are dark, intense, and feel like they’re looking through you. everything about her screams composure— her kneepads are in perfect condition, her shoes are perfectly unscuffed, her tshirt tucked perfectly into her shorts in a way that makes you almost confused as to how she doesn’t have a single wrinkle. everything about this girl just looks so unrealistically perfect.
“no, yeah, totally,” you stammer, watching as she picks the ball up off the ground. you shake your head. “not trying to be cocky. sorry.”
“easy, soph,” the coach waves her off, before turning back to you. “y/n, join us for practice today. we’ll do a scrimmage at the end and see if you’re up to snuff.”
you nod appreciatively, and all you can feel are the harsh eyes of this girl burning a hole in the side of your head.
the coach motions for you to go get stretched, and you jog over to the other girls, waving as politely as you can manage. much to your relief, they welcome you warmly, encouraging you to warm up with them. you try to avoid looking back behind your shoulder, out of fear that the girl is still glaring you down.
you join the girls as they all get into their first warmups, and you end up directly behind this girl in the line to practice setting. you want to extend an olive branch, to express that you’re excited to get a chance to practice with them, that you’ve admired their team for a while and you recognize her as one of the best setters on the west coast conference.
she doesn’t give you a chance, shooting an icy gaze over her shoulder at you.
“don’t get in my way,” she warns simply, running up as the ball comes her way to make the first set.
“i’ll do my best,” you breathe.
-
by the time their practice ends, you’re dripping sweat, but it’s been fun to enjoy playing with a team like this all over again. your community college team was nothing in comparison, these girls are elite on several levels above what you’ve ever seen. but it excites you, and it makes you hopeful that with how good you’ve gotten over the years, you can convince them this is where you belong.
the assistant coach waves you over, and you comply immediately.
“what were your grades like?” he asks, looking over something on a clipboard.
“good,” you say quickly, your eyes widening. “why?”
the head coach interrupts, smiling broadly. “wanna play volleyball for me?”
“no way,” you breathe. “if you’re joking that’s super mean.”
“you’ll be our newest cyclone,” she beams, holding out her hand to you for a shake. “i’ll figure out application stuff with you. scholarship might not come until you’ve completed the season, but academics might be enough to get you through the first semester. welcome to the team.”
“thank you for the chance,” you breathe, feeling the emotion bubbling in your chest. “you have no idea how excited i am.”
you know most of the girls are looking at this point, but you feel one set of eyes harsher than the rest of them. you try to ignore it and not let it ruin this moment for you.
-
you get moved into campus and set your mind to ensure that the next practice you go to, you give it your all, eager to prove yourself to the girls on this team. you try to show up to the court early, and you quickly realize making friends might not actually be impossible, considering a majority of the girls are extremely friendly and even more eager to welcome you than you are to introduce yourself.
“y/n, hey!” they call out excitedly, waving to you where you’re already stretching.
you spend the next chunk of warmups small talking with your new teammates, doing your best to memorize their names and whatever quirks you pick up about each of them.
“were you seriously homeschooled?” manon, a junior, tilts her head at you curiously.
“it made it easier to focus on volleyball,” you smile. sure, it’s kind of lame you didn’t get to have the same high school experience as most other people, but you got the chance to travel all over with your club team, and the skills it gave you were obviously good enough to land you here, so you can’t be too upset at how it panned out for you.
“people ask me if i was homeschooled,” megan, a chatty brunette, blurts. “whatever that’s supposed to mean.”
lara lets out a laugh. “oh, you know exactly what it-”
“look busy,” daniela warns quickly, cutting you all off as her eyes go wide.
you’re not quite sure what she could mean by that, but the moment you look up, you realize someone is coming towards you.
sophia laforteza, you quickly learned her name. the no-nonsense, scarily-intense team captain of the malibu state university cyclones.
by the time you realize why daniela freaked out, you look around to realize the rest of them have jumped into very serious stretches. you quickly reach for your knees and pull them up to your chest, trying to look like you’re actually stretching.
“supreme leader sophia,” manon nods. you think the interaction is harmless enough, but somehow, it’s enough to set the captain off.
“bannerman, go take a lap,” she snaps quickly. manon groans but complies, standing up and starting to jog around the court. your palms start to sweat, but sophia eyes your group and moves on, and you breathe a little easier as the distance between you increases.
“so serious,” lara mumbles under her breath.
“is she always like this?” you ask, eyeing her nervously as you all keep stretching.
“no. she’s playing it up for the newbies,” daniela rolls her eyes.
“uh yes, yes she is always like that,” megan pushes back, shaking her head. “strict as hell.”
sophia’s voice cuts in from several yards away where she stands.
“you can take a lap too, skiendiel.”
“fuck,” megan groans, standing up. “how the fuck can you even hear me, leader?”
you bite back a laugh at megan’s nickname for the captain. you had heard manon call her that too, leader, but figured it was a teasing thing. not something all the girls joined in on.
“i have a sixth sense for complaining,” sophia says dryly.
as if sophia’s warmup drills weren’t enough, practice itself is absolutely grueling. you realize this team is no joke, and if you’re going to keep up, you’re going to have to take this extremely seriously.
“bro, my asscheeks,” megan whines as you guys reach the end of the 2 hour practice, each of you dripping in sweat. your legs are shaking and you wonder how the hell you’re planning to keep up with such an intense team.
but sophia laforteza waltzes by, her skin barely glistening with sweat, not a single hair out of place in her ponytail.
“more complaining, damn. if you’ve got the energy for that, then you’ve got another lap in you, skeindiel,” sophia grins, almost devilishly. you want to laugh— she seems borderline insane, but you can tell it doesn’t come from a place of true intent to harm.
“oh yeah? what if i fucking die, then what?” megan pushes back, tossing her head back in exhaustion.
“so dramatic, megan, you know it’s okay to shut up every once in a while?” manon groans, sensing where the youngest girl’s complaints are about to land them.
you can sense it too, after having witnessed sophia’s reaction earlier, and as predicted, sophia’s eyes sharpen as megan responds.
“i think we’ll all take an extra lap, just to show megan some support,” sophia announces, whistling quickly to catch the team’s attention. you hear a collective groan from everyone, and your coaches simply laugh at you all. you can tell that sophia’s ability to keep you guys practicing is something they’ve approved— all her power is clearly given from the people in charge, probably for good reason.
“meiyok, i’m going to fucking kill you,” daniela grits irritatedly.
“you like seeing people suffer,” manon groans at sophia as she stands up from where she was laying and begins to jog off.
“walk-on can handle it,” sophia says, pointing at you, surprising you that she’s chosen to bring you into it. “that’s the only person i hear not complaining, actually.”
you can’t help but find the nickname endearing. maybe it’s the worst timing possible, but it brings a smile to your face.
“walk-on?” you tilt your head. “is that supposed to be me?”
sophia arches a brow, turning her head to orient towards you. “problem?”
“surely you could have come up with something more creative?” you grin.
you hear a collective gasp from your teammates. something tells you that trying to banter with sophia laforteza is a very big, very dumb mistake.
“you know, maybe you, megan, and manon can finish with some burpees while the rest of us cool down,” sophia says, her jaw hardening. “see if that helps your attitude problem.”
i don’t have an attitude problem, you want to push back by saying, but you realize this girl is probably on a rampage, and getting in her way is a death wish. you bite your tongue and start the last lap, mentally preparing for the extra task sophia has given you.
“damn,” you gasp for breath, collapsing on the floor after the three of you finally finish.
“that was rough,” manon groans, only for megan to gag and dry heave in response.
“i’m going to puke and the season hasn’t even started yet,” the youngest whines.
“she usually loves the newbies,” dani says in surprise, having waited for you guys with lara as the rest of the team headed off to the locker room. “not sure what you did to her.”
“you replaced—” megan starts, but manon quickly cuts her off.
“oh shit,” manon nods. “that makes sense.”
“the old libero,” lara realizes, looking at you. “they were really close.”
“where is she now?” you ask curiously.
“she took a gap year,” megan tells you, and the others look amongst themselves anxiously. “mommy sophia’s been sensitive about it. those two did everything together.”
“mommy sophia?” you laugh, but they gloss over it, clearly dead serious.
“megan…” lara warns.
“what? she hasn’t always been this angry,” megan holds her hands up to defend herself. “serious, yeah, intense, yeah, a little scary, also yeah, but not this flat out angry.”
“no, i get it,” you shake your head, trying to empathize. “i wouldn’t want my business all out there either. not a great look. we don’t have to keep talking about it.”
the small group gives you a look of approval as you all head towards the locker room.
“i miss the old sophia,” megan admits quietly under her breath, just loud enough for you to hear.
——
your dorm isn’t perfect, but the malibu state campus is absolutely gorgeous, and being a 10 minute walk from the beach is enough to make up for your broken window and slightly unnerving roommate that won’t say a word to you. sure, you miss your home city, but it isn’t the end of the world, and the girls on your team are so friendly, it makes the homesickness even easier to handle than you imagined.
(at least, most of the girls on your team are friendly.)
you spot her on the first day of class, sitting alone at a 2 person table in your humanities class. you approach her without hesitation, just how you would for anyone else you know.
“hey! we have a class together. just my luck, huh?” you beam, excited to see a familiar face, dropping your backpack down on the table with a thud. “can i sit here?”
she looks perfect, as she always does, somehow making a black hoodie and gym shorts look elegant. her long dark hair is tucked back behind her ears, and her lips are so gorgeously glossy. sophia is naturally gorgeous, infuriatingly so, but you’ve never been the insecure type, more so just grateful to exist at the same time as people this pretty so you can admire them.
her eyes narrow at you, something dark and unreadable in them.
“you just did,” she says simply, staring at the backpack in front of her.
“i guess i should have asked before i parked my ass,” you realize, grinning sheepishly as you take up the seat next to her. “good point.”
“y/n,” she says firmly, looking back at the front of the room. “i can’t hear, and i need to focus.”
you were too busy trying to get on her good side that you didn’t even notice the professor had started introducing herself. you sink into your seat, trying to rush to get your laptop out.
“totally. sorry.”
she says nothing. she doesn’t even look back at you for the rest of the class. she doesn’t say “bless you” when you sneeze loudly in the middle of class, she doesn’t laugh like the rest of them when you introduce yourself and admit you have zero fun facts about yourself because you’re painfully incapable of self-reflection to know anything about yourself. when it’s her turn to introduce herself, she simply says her name and that she plays volleyball, sitting back down without so much as a smile. she doesn’t say anything when your computer dies halfway through the lecture and you have nothing left to take notes on, even though she’s siting next to the outlet and seems to have the same type of laptop as you do.
you’re not brave enough to ask her anyways.
class ends, and she doesn’t bother looking in your direction.
“don’t be late to practice,” she says simply, swooping up her backpack over her shoulder in a quick, graceful motion. “we need to win our first away game. sets the tone for the season.”
that’s it. you watch as she walks off unceremoniously, almost as if you didn’t exist except to inconvenience her.
“jesus christ,” you whisper under your breath.
———
your season starts a month later, and your first away game gives you a taste of what to expect.
“who’d you get roomed with?” you ask the small group of 5 that you had grown particularly close to as you guys cram into the uber to your hotel. you’ve missed traveling for volleyball, and the anticipation in your bones for tomorrow’s game makes you even more eager.
“i always get manon,” daniela says.
“and nobody else can handle megan’s mess but lara,” manon grins.
“hey, whatever,” megan whines from the back seat, where she’s been stuck in between all your bags of luggage.
“i got sophia,” you breathe quietly, thinking back to the email of the hotel roommate arrangement your coaches had sent out that morning. “should be fine, right?”
“walk-on, you’ll be quick to learn that supreme leader sophia is a drill sergeant with lipgloss,” manon laughs.
“very shiny, very pretty lipgloss,” you defend her.
“she’s a junior,” lara informs you, as if it puts some things into perspective for you. “for her, it’s time to start stressing about the real world next year.”
as a sophomore, you know you’ve got another 2 full seasons coming for you.
“second to final season,” lara goes on. “mommy sophia’s trying to make the most of it.”
you laugh again at lara and megan’s stupid nickname, as if “supreme leader” wasn’t bad enough.
you guys get to the hotel and your coaches send a group text warning everyone to be in bed by 9pm. you part ways with your group once the uber drops you off and go up to your room, only to find sophia has beat you there. she’s taken the bed closest to the window, her bag set up neatly. she’s wearing a facemask and a set of earplugs, eyes quickly flickering up to acknowledge you as you enter the room.
you can’t help but hope that this is your chance to break through her icy facade.
“hey! want to plan for breakfast together?” you beam, tossing your bag onto the floor in front of what sophia has decided is your bed. “i love hotel oatmeal. something about it is so gross i can’t stop craving it.”
she doesn’t bother to look up at you, slipping into her bed without another glance in your direction. “i need to sleep.”
“okay, no worries,” you blink, watching as she reaches for the light switch. “when should i wake us up?”
“i’ll be up at five.” her hand flicks the lights off, leaving you both in the dark. “good night.”
“good night,” you respond quietly, trying to feel your way around for your bed. you suck in a breath. this feels like it might be a very long few days.
—---
sophia is gone before you wake up.
you don’t hear her alarm, but you also don’t hear yours, and you’re just lucky that you can hear megan banging her fist against the wall, screaming for you stupidly and asking if you can hear her through the wall. you can vaguely hear lara yelling at her for being so annoying, but megan’s antics keep you from sleeping in too late, so you’ll thank the goofy sophomores some other time.
you don’t see sophia at breakfast, but by the time you come back to your room, she’s heading into the shower, freshly sweating in her workout clothes. you realize she’s probably already fit in a morning workout while the rest of you were barely waking up. you’re impressed, but frankly not surprised, by her work ethic.
by the time the game starts, it’s your first time in the cyclones uniform, and you feel a strange sense of nervousness wash over you in a wave. your warmups are simple enough, and sophia gathers you all in a team huddle after your coaches debrief you all.
“stay focused, stay confident, don’t let them see you sweat,” sophia states, voice cold, neutral, and self-assured. her icy disposition can be quite scary, but you can see why she’s captain— she’s intense, and something about her demeanor being so laser-focused fuels you with an equal amount of confidence.
“uh, leader, what do i do if i’m already sweating?” megan blurts anxiously. lara reaches over to smack her on the back of the head, and sophia keeps going.
“keep your hits unreadable. their back line is tough but we should be able to break through if we stack clean and aggressive. stay focused,” she emphasizes, eyes looking over at her two main hitters, dani on opposite and megan on outside. “i’ll feed whoever’s eating."
“i like that,” you grin, the metaphor tickling you for whatever stupid reason.
you almost regret it as soon as you say it, but sophia’s eyes aren’t hostile as they meet yours. you realize this may be a first.
“cyclones on three,” you blurt out, and sophia shoots you a sharp look, but doesn’t seem fully annoyed.
“one, two—” she starts, and the rest of the girls jump in for the finishing chant. by the time your team takes to the court, your body is buzzing.
time to shine.
the opposing team is no joke, and you wonder where the hell they got girls this fucking huge. they tower across the net from you, and you can’t help but swallow down anxiously. sophia walks back from the coin flip with an approving nod, and chooses to serve first. your old team always opted to pick the side of the court, but sophia takes to her serve with extreme confidence, and as you watch her two handed jump float, you realize just why she is the face of the team.
the girls on the other team blink in shock at just how high sophia leaps into the air to send her serve. when you played, setters weren’t exactly known for power, but the sharp boom that leaves sophia’s hand as it slams into the ball, shooting through the air to speed straight at the other girls makes you realize what a force this girl is. sophia laforteza, as scary and intimidating as she is, is the perfect face of the malibu state university cyclones for that exact reason— she scares the shit out of anyone who lays eyes on her.
much to your shock, the serve sinks directly into the wood. your first point, an ace serve of all things. lara and manon high five from their positions and daniela lets out a loud cheer, but sophia is focused as ever. she doesn’t so much as crack a smile as she returns to her serving position, reaching out for the ball as it gets passed to her. you look over and see the opposing team shaking their heads, clearly trying to regain their composure. another boom, and the ball is in play. your stomach flutters at the thought of sophia’s phenomenal talent, and how grateful you are to play on the same team as such a talented girl.
(maybe you don’t mind the batshit crazy attitude when she can back it up with skills like this.)
the set goes on and your team only goes up from there. you’ve forgotten how much you enjoy diving around a court like this, making quick work to get the ball back in the air each time it goes too far out of reach for the rest of the girls, hopping back up to your feet after every dive with a smile on your face. it’s part of what made you love the libero position in the first place— it was the perfect place to put all your boundless energy.
your team loses possession of the ball when megan misses her one-handed set to daniela, the opposing team using the opportunity to send the ball directly to where she should have been. you’re not fast enough to save it, but there’s no time to lose moping about it before those massive walls of women are preparing for their own serve on the other side.
the other team’s serve rockets straight into an empty gap where lara isn’t expecting, leaving it up to you to protect the back line. you focus in on where sophia is standing and dive, ensuring wherever you land, the ball hits you and soars high enough for sophia to set easily. and she does, and you witness megan and daniela stack so inanely fast, you almost can’t perceive where the ball ends up or who ends up with the kill. all that matters is that the ball slams into the ground at lightning speed, dani and megan high fiving each other excitedly, and that’s when you realize your team has insane synergy.
manon and lara with you, megan and dani eager to take on whatever sophia feeds them, and sophia, level-headed and sharp-eyed, keeping everything moving on the court.
it’s back to back, and the pace makes your blood race in your veins. the thud of the ball against your skin is a dull burn at this point, and your elbows ache from all your digs, but your adrenaline is at an all time high, especially as the first set ends and you guys are riding the high and sailing towards taking over the second set as well.
your heart thuds even more powerfully in your chest when after a particularly good save, sophia comes to tap fingers with you, her eyes lighting up even if her face is still stern.
“your serve receive is phenomenal,” she tells you breathlessly, and you can’t tell if you’re more shocked by the compliment, or by the first high five she’s given anyone all game.
“thank you,” you beam. “easy when i have such a good setter ready for me.”
sophia blinks, as if she’s surprised by her own compliment, or by yours, but you can’t read into it. “don’t get cocky.”
you smile back even brighter. “i think we’re flirting, leader.”
she shakes her head and returns to her position, but it’s the most positive interaction you two have had since you joined the team. maybe you overdid it with your joke, but sophia is unphased, and you guys end up winning the game in a blowout win over the other team, so it’s a win for the night overall in your book.
-
“hi,” you greet the captain, coming out of the shower after getting back to the hotel. you’re only going to get a few hours of sleep before your guys’ flight, and the routine starts all over again with practice in the morning. the grind for the msu cyclones clearly never stops.
“hey,” she greets back simply, and you’re just grateful she acknowledges you at all. she’s packing her bag, still in the uniform, clearly waiting her turn for the bathroom.
“great game!” you chirp excitedly, but you immediately regret it as she stares you over, a gaze that tells you she’s thinking, she’s studying, she’s got something prepared in her head.
but what she says next surprises you.
“you’re good. i misjudged you.” you almost can’t believe that she’s complimenting you, but it suits her— she’s not looking at you, she isn’t smiling, and she follows it up with a piece of critique. “but weak on your left side.”
“i hurt myself a few months ago, before the summer. still recovering,” you explain simply.
“oh,” is all she says in response.
she’s comfortable with the silence, obviously, but you’re not, so you blurt out the first thing you think to ask: “they’re serious, about the whole leader thing?”
“they call me that instead of captain,” sophia says after a beat. “manon was being stupid and then it just stuck with the rest of them.”
you smile, realizing she lets it happen. “it’s hilarious.”
“i’m glad you find it funny,” she deadpans.
“you don’t?” you raise a brow.
“no,” she says plainly.
you let out a laugh, shaking your head. “then you must hate what megan and lara call you.”
you see her gaze narrow, and she finally looks up to acknowledge you. “what?”
you grin, realizing you’ve caught her attention with that one. something the girl doesn’t know. you can see how it drives her crazy, and it makes sense— sophia is so in the know, so perfectly in control of everything around her, it must feel disorienting to have something occurring that she’s not aware of, much less on the team that she runs like a military commander.
“good night, leader,” you say simply, tucking into bed and letting your head hit the pillow. she says nothing and slips into the bathroom as quietly as she can manage.
-
you guys fly back and you’re already itching for the next practice, eager to keep improving as a team. the high of the first game’s win is addicting, and you’re not about to let that energy slip through your fingers.
at the end of practice, the coaches come and debrief you all, dismissing you for the morning. but you’ve quickly learned that the girls all wait for sophia’s approval, in case she has any final words or thoughts before you guys head to the locker rooms.
you all huddle around sophia, whose unreadable features have stopped unnerving you as badly. sure, she’s still terrifying, but a little less now that you know she’s actually capable of being something other than annoyed and pissed off.
she spins one of the balls in her hand, casually and comfortably, but her voice is cold and serious as ever.
“who came up with it?” she asks, eyes fixed on the ball in her hand. “mommy sophia?”
you hear the girls go collectively silent.
“oh fuck,” you hear lara whisper under her breath.
“who was it?” she repeats, her gaze unreadable as she simply keeps the ball spinning. “i can wait all day. i’ve got nowhere to be on a saturday morning."
you can hear a pin drop. finally, one of the culprits bravely admits to her crime.
“t’was i…” megan raises her hand sheepishly.
“hm.” sophia stares her over, and you can feel the collective terror of the team as they realize their captain is preparing to make an example out of megan.
but then sophia surprises everyone, instead of verbally berating megan or making her run laps until she throws up, she simply points to one of the scaffolds in the gym, motioning to megan for her to come up to it. “we’re having a pullup competition.”
“what the fuck?” megan asks in disbelief.
“she’s not gonna kill her in front of everyone?” manon asks in pure shock.
“maybe she’s turned a new leaf,” you offer.
“if you beat me, practice ends,” sophia explains the conditions. “i beat you, and we all run two extra miles. full extension, chest to bar, no fakies.”
“megan, i’ll fucking murder you,” daniela glares at her. it dawns upon everyone— the weight of how your practice ends rests in the mildly-incapable hands of megan skiendiel.
“no pressure,” megan mumbles under her breath as she approaches the bar.
the competition starts, and the silence erupts into a rush of screams and cheers as the two race to see who can outlast the other. it’s stupid, good-natured fun, and you know there’s a two mile run on the line, but you can’t help but love how silly the whole thing feels. you didn’t think sophia was capable of something like this, but you feel the scene quickly becoming a core memory.
“come on, you useless so-cal wasian!” manon screams, standing directly underneath megan to count her reps. “all that time lifting boxes in your little boba shop for what?! you could have been training shoulders that whole time instead!”
“i’m fucking trying,” megan sobs, her arms trembling after hitting 15. “i was at the boba shop trying to get bitches.”
“you were too useless to get a single number the whole summer you worked at that fuckass boba shop,” daniela screams laughing.
“oh my god, shut up guys,” megan groans.
“light work from supreme leader,” lara sighs, standing underneath sophia to count her reps, who leads at a steady 16 and shows no signs of slowing down. “chat, we’re cooked.”
megan is strong, but she’s growing unsteady with each increasing pull up. sophia, as expected, is barely breaking a sweat, face tensed in concentration.
you feel the back of your neck flush as you watch the way her arms move in the tank top, the way her eyebrows furrow together, the slack of her mouth and the quiet breaths she lets out with each movement. you mentally chastise yourself for the images that come to your brain and try to soothe your raging hormones by cracking a joke, clapping your hands at her.
“looking good a little too good, laforteza,” you tease her, shaking your head with a smile. “you make it look easy.”
in a true blink and you’ll miss it moment, you spot it— sophia laforteza, forever unshakable, lets her cheeks go pink.
you’re in shock at the reaction, and you half wonder if it’s just her straining to pull herself up again, but she simply drops from the bar, the girls all screaming excitedly as megan does one final pullup to surpass sophia by one. whereas sophia calmly reaches for her water bottle, megan collapses onto the ground, painting heavily.
“go shower,” she waves you all off. “get some sleep. good game, megan.”
she reaches out to tap fingers with the younger girl, who looks up at her with bright, excited eyes, clearly in shock to have beat the captain.
megan gets to her feet and pumps a victorious fist in the air. “i’d like to thank my mom, and then god, and then lebron james, in that order.”
“what does lebron have to do with this?” daniela questions.
“dude, what doesn’t he have to do with this?” megan answers too easily, and you simply shake your head laughing as you see them walk off.
you reach for your gym bag to follow them, and spot sophia watching you. she turns away as soon as she’s caught, her eyes avoiding yours. you smile to yourself and chase after your friends.
———
the next day, you’re off on your own in the dining hall getting something for dinner. you’re prepared to scroll tik tok as you scan around for an empty table to sit alone at, but something catches your attention. the perfect cascade of long, dark hair waterfalling down the shoulders of a familiar figure. she’s eating alone, a book in hand, and without thinking, you run over to join her.
“did you let megan win that pullup competition?” you blurt quickly, setting your tray down in front of her.
sophia remains silent. she doesn’t look up from her book to acknowledge you, but she simply raises her brows, as if to greet you. it’s not much, but you’ll take it.
“i watched this documentary today in my anthropology class,” you tell her, unphased by her silence. “where the adult lions pretend to cry out and lose their fights when the cubs are learning how to play. so the cubs build confidence.”
she shrugs as if she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “i’m just here to keep the team in one piece.”
“i’ve never met someone so passionate about this sport,” you breathe, admiring her pretty face since she’s not even bothered to look at you. you pick boredly at your dinner, much more interested in getting something, anything out of this mystery of a girl. “how’d you start?”
she pauses, her eyes flicking to your hand briefly, before she focuses back on her book. it’s a long bout of silence, but you hold your own, staring at her. as if she finally realizes that you’re not letting up, her voice softens. she finally gives you something.
“i played beach volleyball, as a kid,” she says slowly, hesitantly. “on the actual beach, in the philippines.”
“really?” your eyes light up at the piece of information. like a piece of a puzzle, giving you a chance to see the bigger picture that is sophia laforteza.
“i grew up there. didn’t have a ton. volleyball opened up every door i’ve ever had,” she goes on, but you can tell she’s picking her words carefully.
“you’re pretty far from home,” you acknowledge, tilting your head. “do you miss it?”
sophia says nothing. in the silence, you get an idea.
“c’mon,” you reach for her wrist, grabbing your phone to call up a few of your new favorite friends. “let’s go get lara and megan. two v two.”
“i have homework,” she pushes back instantly, looking down at your grip on her arm.
“homework will be there,” you reassure her with a smile. “come on, leader.”
to your shock, she relents. her eyes are hesitant and untrusting, but she follows behind you without a further complaint.
-
you all pile into lara’s car, and you’re on the beach within the hour. you haven’t played beach volleyball in a while, but you get the hang readily and when your partner is as good as sophia, there isn’t much of a learning curve. she doesn’t resist, getting into the game quickly and easily as you all enjoy the fall-time breeze and the beautiful golden hues of the setting sun against the ocean.
sophia spikes another ball straight into a gap where megan should have covered. the two girls groan as you’re up by another point against them.
“okay, my game is off. i have sand where sand isn’t supposed to be,” megan whines.
“meg, you are such a loser, lock in i am begging you,” lara gasps in exasperation. “there’s girls watching.”
sophia peeks over her shoulder and spots a small group of girls, your guys’ age, sitting on their towels admiring you guys as the game goes on. she arches her brows at you, in concern, but you wave her off, knowing it’s all in good fun.
“shirts vs. skins?” you suggest playfully, motioning over to megan and lara.
“see that, meg? that’s how you pull,” lara nods in approval. “see how she’s setting us up for success?”
megan quickly pulls her shirt up off of her head, and lara follows suit to do the same. the two play in their sports bras. sophia eyes you questioningly, but you reassure her once again with a smile that you know what you’re doing.
“do you guys want to play?” you offer, motioning to the girls watching from off-sides.
“we’re good watching,” they wave back appreciatively. “none of us are very good, anyways.”
“lara’s a really good teacher,” you encourage them, “and megan’s—”
“i love women,” megan blurts.
“oh lord…” sophia brings a hand to her face.
megan blinks a few times before trying again, her big puppy dog eyes wide and round.
“uh, i mean, i love women’s sports and i love getting people into women’s sports. do you guys like sports? we do, of course we do ‘cause we’re players for the university. not like, players players, as in like we pull a ton, i mean some of us do but some of us don’t, i meant like we play volleyball—”
“it’s painful to watch,” you whisper to sophia. she laughs and nods in agreement. the sound of her laughter makes your entire chest rumble with warmth.
“i think we should put her out of her misery and go home soon,” she mumbles back to you.
“at least give lara a chance,” you grin.
and pull through, lara does! the afternoon ends with the girls joining lara’s team, leaving you all in a 2 v 6, but even with the extra man power, you and sophia are truly no match. granted, none of the strangers play volleyball, and lara is too busy flirting while megan stammers her way through a half response, but sophia, true to herself, doesn’t take the game any less seriously.
lara drops you guys off one by one near your dorm buildings, and you and sophia realize you’re just a few buildings apart. you wave her off and head in your own direction, but you’re stopped by a movement that nearly shocks you.
sophia laforteza, ice queen, grabs you by the wrist.
“thank you,” she tells you softly. “the beach was… it was nice.”
“of course,” you smile back. “i can’t imagine being a whole world away from my family. you must get homesick pretty easily.”
her mouth tightens. “i have a hard time unwinding.”
“i can tell,” you laugh. “you deserve to smile too.”
“i forget that part, sometimes,” she breathes, offering you a quiet laugh in response. “i had fun watching megan fail at flirting.”
“she’s so, so clueless,” you shake your head.
sophia pauses for a second, contemplating. you can’t help but admire how deep those gorgeous brown eyes are, how easily you lose yourself in them.
“sorry if i’ve been short with you,” she finally says after a beat.
“i’ve been told you’re usually not this grumpy,” you say back simply.
“i wasn’t always,” she admits. “people used to think i was cheerful, actually. too cheerful.”
“i missed an iconic era, it seems,” you smile, reaching out to give her hand a squeeze. “but i think we met each other exactly when we were supposed to.”
another victory— you make sophia laforteza smile.
“maybe we did,” she says simply, before letting go of you. “good night, y/n. see you.”
—
your season goes on, and you fall into a comfortable rhythm with the girls. your season hits a few rough patches, but each time you hit the court with those girls, you’re forever more and more grateful to have convinced yourself to try out. your friendships are deeper, your days brighter, and you can’t help but feel like this is what the dream college experience is supposed to be like.
your teammates are admittedly a little more girl-crazy than you’d initially have expected, but you’re too busy trying to keep up to focus on much else. between classes, practice, traveling for games, and just general team shenanigans, you feel more than content enough. not having a love life doesn’t feel like it affects you in the slightest.
(and, should you ever get the itch, it’s always kind of fun to banter with your very hot, very serious team captain.)
you know nothing is going to come of it, and it’s absolutely harmless, but something about the way you and sophia go back and forth sends butterflies through your stomach. you know it’s all in good fun, and it isn’t hurting anyone, so what’s the harm in laying it on a little thick for the girl you know isn’t taking it personally?
plus, sophia’s been warming up to you, much to your surprise. sure, she’s still mostly quiet around you when you join her in the dining hall or sit next to her in class, but at the very least, she’s not glaring at you. she’s not mean, just focused, and the fact that she’s not icing you out is a huge win. you wonder what she used to be like, before she was this serious, and you get small glimpses especially when she’s on the court and playing like she was built for this and this alone. you see her defenses fall whenever that whistle blows, the way her eyes light up as soon as the ball leaves someone’s hand, the way she eagerly watches to see who scores.
and you love, love, love the attention she gives you for being a good fucking volleyball player.
“you’re amazing,” sophia had beamed under her breath at your last game, in awe at your sprinting dive to save what had nearly been a match-point, saved only by your quick feet.
“knock it off with the rizz while i’m playing, you’re distracting me,” you tease her, grinning widely, but you can’t deny the warmth it brings to your cheeks.
she shakes her head, but she’s smiling, watching you in admiration, and if you could feel any more vulnerable, it’d be under the beautiful gaze of a smiling sophia. she’s so radiant like this in front of you, burning almost as bright as the sun. you wonder what possibly could have happened to burn her out like this, to dim her light, and your heart aches at the thought.
your team wins your game, and instead of everyone scattering to try and get some rest, they all seem eager to shower and get dressed up for something. you follow dani’s directions to wait for a ride outside of the student center after you’ve gotten ready, and as much as you’d like to be curled up in bed and massaging your sore muscles, the enthusiasm from the girls is enough to get you going.
“ride with me and lar!” megan pleads, motioning for you to hop in the car as soon as they spot you exiting your dorm.
“where to?”
“it’s a surprise,” lara grins. you guys chat absentmindedly as she drives you guys up through the city, and before you realize it, you’re parking in front of a giant building plastered in neon signs.
“what’s this?” you ask, spotting other girls from the team arriving at the same time as you all.
“team karaoke,” lara fills you in excitedly. “oh, nobody told you? we do it to celebrate the halfway-point of the season.”
you grin bigger than you thought was possible. god, you love this team.
they lead you to the private karaoke team and introduce you to yoonchae, coach’s daughter who’s about to graduate high school and will be soon joining your team next year. there’s no drinking, mostly due to the underaged attendees, but also considering how insane half of the team is, there’s little more you guys need to get started than someone playing “thinking of you” by katy perry before you’re all screaming along at the top of your lungs.
you almost don’t notice when sophia slips into the private room, her hair softly falling over her shoulders. it’s your first time seeing her outside of her gym or campus clothes, and even though she’s still casual, you can’t help but admire how stunning she looks in the pretty black top and jeans she’s in. plus the silver-framed glasses you never get to see her wear, and you realize you’re going to have a very hard time not staring tonight.
“sing a little ditty for us, leader,” megan begs, hooking an arm around her neck and shoving the microphone in her face.
“filipino throat chakra!” lara hollers at the top of her lungs.
“so-phi-a,” manon chants. “so-phi-a.”
the girls all join in in the rambunctious cheer, and sophia simply presses a loving kiss to the top of megan’s head and waves them off. she sits down in between daniela and megan, but keeps one hand on the microphone. sophia may be a lot of things, but the one thing you’ll give her is that you can see how clearly she loves every single girl on that team, some ways more warm than others, but love nonetheless.
“queue lala lost you,” lara tells daniela, who’s been helping yoonchae queue up the songs as the girls all take their turns.
“you could hear sophia blasting this shit through the walls of the dorms all summer training camp,” megan laughs, pushing the microphone to her face. “i know you’ve got it in you, leader!”
sophia hasn’t said a single word since she’s walked into the room, but the moment she locks eyes with you, blatantly staring at her, her eyes soften.
“get off of me, meg,” she laughs, shoving the girl away. “i need a little space to hit these runs.”
“that’s our leader!” manon screams, leaping out of her seat to cheer the girl on as the song starts. between all of your cheers, you’re all almost louder than the speakers, but sophia’s voice rings out loud and clear as soon as the music hits.
she doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t seem nervous, doesn’t even so much as clear her throat before simply starting the song. that’s what you’re realizing is the way sophia operates— confident, certain, straightforward, not one to sugarcoat or do anything extra.
and it doesn’t hurt that her voice is absolutely gorgeous. you find it extremely hard to understand how people don’t just fall in love at the mere sight of her, much less the sound of her angelic siren’s call. she’s so focused, so precise, so impressive in everything she does, so capable.
(not that you’re in love with her or anything, definitely not the case.)
she’s not smiling until the end of the song, where she takes a small bow after the final note and lets megan scream in her ear about how beautiful the whole experience was.
“encore!” manon goads her on.
“i’m thirsty,” sophia shakes her head, reaching for her water. “it’s dani’s turn.”
“oh say less,” daniela chirps happily, pointing at yoonchae. “yoonchip, queue gasolina by daddy yankee.”
“no twerking on the table, megan,” sophia warns knowingly.
“you are literally no fun,” megan throws her head back.
“you broke their table last time,” sophia reminds her, laughing. “we had to put coach’s credit card down for them to not ban us from ever coming back.”
“that was not my fault,” megan pouts.
“i’m going to go get some air,” the captain stretches her arms over her head, taking her water with her as she heads towards the door. “yoonchae’s in charge.”
“what the hell?” manon protests.
“as i should,” yoonchae nods.
“sweaty, leader?” you joke, realizing the girl had worked up the slightest glint of a shimmer on her skin from the song in this cramped room.
“oh, like a pig,” sophia teases back.
“lechon queen,” manon laughs.
“oh fuck, this is like the perfect opportunity for a—”
“no spit roast jokes,” sophia holds a warning finger up.
“you’re no fun!” dani rolls her eyes.
sophia’s eyes are shining with something that makes you think for as much as she pretends to be annoyed with these girls, they keep her entertained. she reaches for the door and excuses herself. “i’ll be back.”
dani’s halfway through her second song when you realize sophia still hasn’t come back. you slip out the door and seek her out, finding her outside the front door, leaning against the wall, admiring the malibu sunset. you approach her quietly, as to not scare her, and lean on the wall next to her.
“who hurt you?” you laugh. “that song was haunting.”
sophia simply smiles knowingly.
“how much time do you have?” she says after a second, much to your surprise, even if she is joking.
“all of it, for you,” you tell her instantly, smiling back at her.
“you’re doing too much,” sophia shakes her head.
“i’m gonna be so transparent,” you tell her, raising your hands in the air like you’ve been caught. “i get such a rush when i make you smile. it’s like crack to me.”
“that’s sweet,” sophia laughs, her eyes avoiding yours as she stares down at something invisible on the ground. “i can promise you all that is not worth it.”
“for you?” you question. “no, i think you’re super worth it.”
sophia clicks her tongue, continuing to avoid your gaze. you can hear something soften in her voice— still playful, still firm, but something seeking more. “you don’t even know me.”
“not a ton, sure.” you lean the tiniest bit closer, your shoulders brushing together as you lean into her. “but i like what i know so far.”
“you’re weird,” she pushes you off, but her eyes are warm. she doesn’t entirely hate it as she’s trying to pretend.
“you’re smiling,” you call her out, poking her in the cheek. “i made leader smile!”
“y/n,” sophia says quietly, and you half wonder if she’s going to reprimand you, but then you realize that she’s leaning back against you. the two of you stand, shoulder to shoulder, the gentle warmth of her body sending a wildfire along your skin at the proximity.
“yes, leader?” you tease playfully.
the girl’s eyes finally come up to meet yours, twinkling with something indescribable.
“you can just call me sophia.”
you nod, caught up in the warmth of her incredible brown eyes, and smile back broadly in response.
“sounds good, sophia.”
—
your team flies out to the next game a week later, and as you board the plane, you notice an empty seat next to sophia. learning your lesson from your first week of school, you approach her carefully, waving a hand in her face as she takes off her headphones and arches a brow up at you.
“hey!” you greet, pointing to the middle seat next to her, where she’s positioned by the window. “can i sit here?”
“no,” she blinks flatly.
“oh,” you feel the back of your neck burn awkwardly.
but then her eyes light up again, meeting yours, and you see it. the stupid sophia laforteza smile that sends a thunderstorm through your chest.
“i’m kidding,” she reassures you, moving her bag off of the seat. “all yours. i was saving it actually.”
“for me?” you ask in disbelief, slipping into the seat.
she tilts her head at you. “for whoever was brave enough to ask.”
you settle into the spot and the two of you coexist in a peaceful silence as the airplane takes off. but you and your stupid mouth can never keep your cool around sophia laforteza, and you find yourself rambling soon enough, disturbing what you can only assume is the peaceful silence she’s seeking.
“megan told me something sweet the other day. after our last game,” you inform her, wondering if the tidbit of information will catch her attention.
and it does. sophia’s brows knit together in curiosity as she turns to face you. “what’s that?”
“she says we make a good team.”
“we do,” sophia nods. “our positions kill when we work well together, and we work well together. i agree with her.”
“i could die happy,” you beam, pretending to fan yourself. “a compliment from the sophia laforteza.”
“hey!” she rolls her eyes. “don’t start. i’ve given you plenty.”
“i’m greedy,” you wrinkle your nose at her playfully. “sorry not sorry, i want more.”
“compliments are overrated,” sophia pushes back.
“oh, for you i bet they are,” you laugh, tossing your head back in disbelief. “what compliments could you possibly need? you’re brilliant, you’re confident, you’re super talented, and you’re insanely pretty. you’re perfect. people literally use ‘sophia laforteza’ as a synonym for perfection.”
“you’re doing too much, again,” sophia shakes her head, her eyes now avoiding yours.
“and you sing like a fucking angel,” you add. “and you smell amazing all the time.”
“not true,” sophia wrinkles her nose.
you’re about to look over and keep rambling, but in that moment you see it in her eyes. something about the way you’re talking to her makes her uncomfortable.
“and you’re actually so fucking nice,” you add, your voice softening, curious as to why the compliments are making her recoil like this. “like the nicest ever. just protective of what you care about.”
“that’s sweet,” she mumbles.
“i mean it. all of it, soph,” you press, reaching over to take her hand in yours. it’s a brave, probably stupid move, but as soon as your fingers touch, she looks up at you with those soft beautiful eyes.
“i’m sorry if i was tough on you, when you first joined,” she says quietly, her eyes digging into yours as if to emphasize her regret. “i couldn’t go easy on you. i have a lot riding on this team.”
“i forgive you,” you reassure her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “have to keep up the whole tough team captain thing.”
“thanks,” she smiles softly.
“can i tell you something?” you whisper, leaning in as the plane cabin lights turn off, leaving you guys in the quiet glow of the airplane.
she arches her brows, beckoning for you to go on.
you smile. “i like knowing you’re a softie.”
something in her face changes, and you can see it. the warmth.
you rest your head on her shoulder, and she lets you, her gentle breaths keeping you comfortable the rest of the flight.
—
you and sophia become inseparable.
the next away game, you’re brave enough to invite her to come watch tik toks with you, and she’s bold enough to wriggle her way under the blankets, and before you realize it, the two of you are in your bed, cuddled up, staring at your tiny screen.
you try not to overthink it. your semester is going perfectly, you couldn’t ask for better friends, and the more time you spend with sophia, the more grateful you are to just know the girl. she’s incredible— so smart, so talented, and so, so thoughtful. someone like her shouldn’t exist, shouldn’t be this perfect, shouldn’t be this close to you giggling at something stupid on your phone.
you don’t get more time to overthink. megan is bursting through your hotel room door, barging in as she seeks out a spare set of kneepads considering she left her lucky ones back home.
“it smells like fritos in here,” she says plainly, snatching your extra pair out of your bag.
“you have to be the weirdest person i know,” sophia groans, throwing her head back against the pillow.
“my mom says frito smell comes from a yeast overgrowth,” the girl goes on, clearly not realizing she’s intruding. “y’all baking bread?”
“i don’t even think she realizes she’s talking sometimes,” you laugh, nudging sophia in the shoulder. “the noises just come right out of her.”
she grins back at you and checks the uber eats notification on her phone. “stay there. i’m gonna go pick up our food.”
she slips out of the door and megan simply watches, before looking back over at you.
“you guys look close,” the girl arches her brows knowingly.
“she’s been opening up,” you inform her.
“oh i bet she has,” megan nods, pursing her lips into an ‘o.”
“megan, ew,” you shake your head, throwing a pillow at the girl who has quickly become one of your best friends.
“i dunno dude, you’re mighty comfy. looks sus for two people just to be friends and be that all up on each other.”
“whatever,” you roll your eyes. you watch as the girl lets herself out.
sophia comes back and lands herself right back in your lap. something about how she fits so comfortably besides you feels too easy. megan’s words ring through your head, and you shake them off.
sophia falls asleep in your bed, and you don’t mind. you don’t mind one bit.
—
the semester goes on, and you and sophia only grow closer. wherever she goes, you’re sure to follow, and people become painfully aware of your newfound friendship.
“y/n,” sophia beams, waving you over as the girls all sit together for breakfast out on the grass of the quad. “come sit.”
you do as you’re told, looking in surprise as the girl hands you a drink. you’re usually one to skip breakfast in favor of getting more sleep, so the fact that sophia, a notorious early riser, already has a drink for you makes your stomach flip.
“i got you a matcha,” she beams proudly, unwrapping the straw for you and placing it in your hand.
“how did you know i liked the sesame one?” you question.
“you ordered it last time we went,” she responds simply.
“the whole team went,” you say in disbelief. “you noticed my order?”
“of course,” she says, too confidently, as if it’s obvious.
“such a gentlewoman,” you smile, pressing your head into her shoulder appreciatively.
megan, who has been eyeing the both of you since your arrival, simply blinks, before blurting out the only thing on her mind:
“sophia, you are so down bad.”
“not even,” she shoves megan away, rolling her eyes.
you’re blushing, and you hope sophia doesn’t notice. but what makes this even more difficult is that you realize she probably did notice, because sophia laforteza cares about those little tiny details.
—-
as it turns out, being this close to sophia laforteza is not only super enjoyable, but super fucking confusing. you promised yourself you’d focus on school and volleyball when you moved to malibu at the beginning of the semester, but whatever you’ve got going on with sophia starts to feel like this weird third thing, past friends but not quite somewhere beyond that. it’s nameless, it’s confusing, but worst of all, you can’t imagine stopping.
she opens up little by little, letting you have tiny pieces of her as if she’s testing how trustworthy you are. she tells you little stories of her island, reminisces about singing with her grandparents, reveals that she plays piano in the common room of her dorm late at night when no-one is around when she’s stressed. her favorite subject is english even though she’s studying public health to run her own pediatric resource clinic for low-income families. she likes disney and she’s afraid of bugs.
and she sings, all the damn time, as if she’ll die if she doesn’t get a tune out. at first it’s quiet, a gentle hum or a whistle, but with the sheer amount of time you two are spending together, the more comfortable she gets with your presence, the more she lets it out. by the time your season is ending, she’s around you and beaming like the clouds came out from in front of the sun, warm, bright, and so melodic. she sings at the top of her lungs whenever you two are alone, studying, watching a stupid movie, at the gym together getting in a stupid extra practice.
you feel kind of pathetic, but you’d do anything to spend more time with her, more time basking in her light, in her beautiful warmth. whether it’s joining on her on her morning runs, or hanging out at your dorm to watch game recaps, she’s reaching out to you, and you’re not about to let her slip through your fingers. each time she invites you to anything you say yes, and any time you think she may even remotely like something, you invite her. your days are starting to revolve around spending time with sophia laforteza, like you can’t get enough of her, but why would anyone want to be apart from her? she’s perfect, and if she’s picked you to be her new best friend, you’ll consider it the biggest win in the world.
the sleepovers didn’t start until your season starts coming to an end. you’re about to enter your first playoff game, and sophia invites herself over as you guys prepare for your flight the next day. you lose track of time packing, chatting mindlessly, sharing stories and making sure you’re both in the right headspace before the game, but quite frankly, any ounce of access to sophia that you get will have you exactly as focused as you need to be.
you’re not sure how you end up there, but you’re admittedly a little too close for comfort, curled up together in your bed. she’s in a cozy hoodie and shorts, those stupid glasses that look way too good on her perched on the tip of her nose as she shows you another stupid brainrot tik tok that made her laugh that day. somehow, you’ve ended up with your head on her shoulder, a common occurrence for the two of you lately, but the way you’re cuddled into her arm, feeling the warmth of her body against yours, close enough to see the shimmer of the lipgloss in the light of the phone screen, is a little too close for you to ignore.
you suck in a deep breath. you figure it’s now or never, and even if you get nothing out of it, you’ll feel better knowing you’ve at least made the effort to get some clarity.
“sophia,” you say gently.
“hm?” her head tilts in your direction, but she doesn’t look away from the phone screen.
your chest tightens, but it’s too late now. “what are we doing?”
“what do you mean?” her face stays neutral, forever the queen of composure.
“i mean i don’t even know what to call you,” you breathe.
“my name, duh,” she wrinkles her nose at you, and you shove her back gently. of course she’d choose now of all times to be a smart ass.
you let the silence rest for a few moments longer, but the feeling gnaws at you. you have to be honest, with her, but first and foremost, with yourself.
“sometimes it feels like we’re dating,” you finally admit.
you know sophia at this point to see her micro-expressions: the curl of her lip, a small shift, or in this case, the twitch of her brow. she doesn’t look at you— a habit you’ve realized that she takes up when she’s thinking.
“oh,” is all she says.
“yeah,” you breathe back awkwardly.
“we’re not,” she tells you.
you squint at her. “i know that.”
she pauses again. you wait her out. you’ve gotten good at it— realizing her silence isn’t hostile, it’s just contemplation. sophia, perfect sophia, takes a second to pick the exact words she wants to say in that exact moment. it’s part of what you’ve come to adore so much about her, how purposeful she is, her attention to detail.
“y/n…” she muses quietly, her lips parting to show her teeth as she sucks in a quiet, thinking breath. “i don’t know how to ask this.”
“sophia laforteza, tongue tied? our eloquent leader?” you tease her, poking her in the cheek. maybe it’s a poor time to be messing with her, but this is your bad habit, making jokes at the worst possible times to try and diffuse the tension. “what’s today, the end of the world?”
but she doesn’t laugh. she doesn’t even smile.
she finally turns her head, she finally looks at you. her voice low and serious, as it always is.
“y/n, i want to kiss you.”
“oh.” you blink. “oh.”
“you can tell me it’s a bad idea,” she tells you slowly, forever the gentlewoman, but the way her eyes flutter down to focus on your lips makes you absolutely dizzy, “or that you don’t want to.”
“i um,” you feel your stomach in knots, jumping at the sight of how she stares you down. “neither of those are true.”
she pauses, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. the movement leaves her lip even shinier, which you didn’t think was even possible, but it is and it makes you absolutely sick at how easily the movement unnerves you. her voice drops, just slightly, but it’s enough for you to notice the rasp in her tone.
“y/n, do you want to kiss me?”
sophia is so painfully confident, so direct and straightforward, it makes your teeth hurt with how attracted you are to her.
you nod, dumbstruck and incapable of forming any more words, and her hand drops the phone onto her stomach. she turns to reach for you, her hand cupping you by the cheek. the feeling of her grasp on your face, the closeness of her body, her breath on your nose is nearly too much for you.
“i’m going to kiss you now,” she tells you gently, moving closer and closer with each passing second, her eyes never leaving your lips. “don’t move.”
you do as you’re told, and sophia laforteza is a woman of her word. she’s slow, painfully gentle as she bridges the distance between you both, and you lose yourself in the perfect smell of her hoodie, the softness of her perfect mouth, the perfect sweetness on her tongue as it brushes softly against your bottom lip. the only word you could ever use to describe sophia, the only word that even starts to do her justice— she is absolute perfection.
“you’re not real,” you breathe, staring at her in disbelief. you’re an idiot for breaking the kiss, sure, but if you didn’t pull away to take a breath, you might’ve actually passed out. your head is so, so dizzy— in no reality, when you had first met this girl, did you ever picture she’d let you get to know her, to be this close to her, to kiss you.
“very real,” she pushes back, reaching for you once more. she turns to lean on top of you, resting her elbows on either side of your torso, hovering over you. she reaches up to brush some of your hair out of your face, her fingertips against your skin feeling like electricity. her eyes are so dark, so intense, so focused. “gonna kiss you again. don’t move.”
you wrap your arms around her neck and nod eagerly. she won’t have to tell you twice.
—-
making out with sophia laforteza for 3 hours the week of your first college playoff game is definitely not something you could have predicted on your sophomore year bingo card, but you’re not about to get greedy.
she falls asleep cuddled up next to you after you guys mutually agree to wait until after playoffs to get distracted by anything else, and you have half a mind to tell her that you’re already extremely distracted when she’s this close to you, but you’re able to keep those thoughts to yourself.
unfortunately, sophia is a creature of routine no matter how badly you beg her to sleep in and keep cuddling you, and gets out of your bed as gently as she can manage to go on her morning run. you’re not exactly thrilled, but she presses a gentle kiss to your temple as she slips out of your room and promises that you’ll talk more when she gets back. the combination of the two is a true win in your head, so you make your way to breakfast with a few of the girls and hope nobody asks why you can’t stop smiling even at 7 in the morning.
(of course, it would be just your luck that it’s megan who clocks you immediately— somehow clueless to literally everything except for whatever is between you and the team captain.)
“y/n, why do you keep acting like nothing’s going on?” she blurts, eyeing you suspiciously. you’ve looked down at your phone a million times that morning, eager to see if sophia has any thoughts about the development between you two, and of course, your teammate didn’t let it go unnoticed. “you’re clearly into her.”
you take a cue from sophia’s playbook and stay silent, reaching for your breakfast oatmeal in the hopes they’ll drop it. you know yourself, prone to oversharing, and you’re not sure that sophia would want something between the two of you to leave between the two of you. manon and daniela eye each other from across the table, lara giggles to herself, and megan doesn’t let up.
“are you guys dating?” she asks bluntly, narrowing her eyes at you.
“um…” you choke on your oatmeal, but try to play it off. “i don’t know how to answer that.”
“oh holy shit,” manon beams, her eyes lighting up. “it’s not a no! you always deny it!”
“it’s true,” lara grins. “this is your first non-answer.”
you feel your cheeks burn, but before you can hide your face, you can tell dani has already seen you blushing. the three of them burst into coos, clearly thrilled to hear things have moved along.
“dude, it’s so sweet,” dani chirps excitedly.
megan nods, and you can tell she’s about to start rambling, but it’s megan, and she means well, so you let her.
“no, dude, you have no idea how good this is for us. she’s like, finally smiling again! our sophia! angry, serious sophia. she even laughed at one of my jokes last practice. my joke. do you know how long it’s been since she’s laughed with me, bro? all it took was y/n to warm her back up. it’s like the ice age is melting or something. i haven’t seen her this happy since marquise—”
you see all 3 of the girls seize up at the exact same time at the mention of this name. a name you have never, ever heard before, and yet got each of these girls to freeze with the exact same reaction. your stomach drops.
“megan—“ manon says harshly, a tone she never uses, which only tells you this is extremely not good. whatever megan has just touched on was clearly not for your ears to hear.
“who’s marquise?” you try to ask, but the three ignore you, locked onto each other.
“megan skiendiel,” daniela says it like a punishment, and megan only sinks further into her seat, her eyes wide like a puppy that’s just been scolded for chewing something up that she wasn’t meant to. you guys are the only ones at the dining hall that early in the morning, but even then, you feel like the whole world around you is spinning, in the worst way possible.
“guys. freaking out here,” you remind them, still left in limbo with nothing more than a name and 0 context. “who the hell is marquise?”
then, as if on cue, a voice cuts in from behind you. a familiar, cold, firm voice. too perfect.
your stomach sinks. you can feel it about to crumble around you.
sophia laforteza, too perfect, too dreamy, too good to be true.
“marquise is my ex.” her voice is neutral, factual. you can’t bring yourself to look at her, but you can see her figure in the corner of your eye. she’s got her arms crossed over her chest, so composed, so eternally the picture of calm and control. “megan wasn’t supposed to mention that.”
you feel your stomach twist into a knot. “oh.”
“saw you guys through the window,” she explains simply, motioning out to the side of the table. you can see your table directly from the window facing the running trail. “thought i’d join you guys for breakfast.”
the tension is palpable. megan is the first to speak up, but her voice is quavering and weak, like she knows the gravity of what she’s done. “soph, i’m sorry…”
sophia moves into your view and presses her lips into a fine line. “they’re freaking out because we’re on a break. marquise gets back to the US in two months.”
“oh,” you say simply, dropping your gaze to the table. “oh wow.”
“we’re gonna go,” lara says, clearly sensing the danger in lingering much longer. she scoops dani in one arm and grabs megan by the hoodie, yanking her along roughly.
“y/n, i’m really sorry,” the youngest girl tells you, her voice shaky, and a part of you feels the tiniest bit better that her guilt comes not just from spilling sophia’s secret, but from not telling you something sooner. it softens the blow somehow.
“she played libero,” sophia tells you once the girls walk away. she sits down across from you in the booth. you can tell she’s treading carefully, wanting to be close but not wanting to overdo it, and you appreciate that she has the common sense to give you space and follow your cues. “she’s the one that got injured last year.”
your throat goes dry at the realization.
“i replaced her,” you finally say out loud. it stings even worse hearing it than it does thinking it.
“i wanted to tell you.” her voice is still even, still composed, but you can hear the quiet rasp of something more, like she’s straining herself. she’s speaking slowly, picking her words carefully as she does. “but i didn’t want to lose you.”
“you knew it was wrong,” you call her out shakily.
“i didn’t want you drawing your own conclusions,” she tells you. “after we kissed, i knew i had to say something. i wanted to. i was going to.”
“i don’t mind being a girl with a one-sided crush. hell, i don’t even mind if we don’t work out on our own.” your voice is shaky as you look down at your hands, trying to even out your breathing to avoid crying, but fuck, this hurts. “but i do mind being a rebound if you’re not over someone.”
“i am,” she presses quickly, and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard her rush her words, as if she’s trying to speak over you. it doesn’t irritate you, if anything, you’re grateful to hear that she’s got some humanity left in her, but it doesn’t help soothe you. she tries again, letting out a breath to steady herself. “we haven’t talked literally at all since she left. i’m going to tell her that things are completely over between us. i can promise that i am 100% over her.”
you won’t look up at her, but you can see her hands on the table. she’s picking at her fingernail, and the movement surprises you. sophia never fidgets, never moves nervously, never even cracks a sweat. but here she is, picking at her nail, and it makes your heart ache. you want to comfort her, but you feel sick even thinking about how much you feel for her.
“that’s the problem with being dishonest, sophia. and i know you weren’t even dishonest, you just didn’t tell me the whole truth, but it’s still a problem,” you admit, swallowing down a lump in your throat. “‘cause now, i don’t know if i believe you. i don’t know if i can trust that you’re telling me the truth.”
she says nothing, and that seals your fate. you feel the first few hot tears drop from your eyes as you shield your face and get out of the dining hall as fast as physically possible, rushing to your dorm to try and compose yourself without sobbing in public like a mess.
sophia doesn’t follow after you. you feel stupid for ever thinking she would.
—-
megan comes over a few hours later after you miss practice, too embarrassed to face sophia after everything collapsing around you.
the younger girl sits on the edge of your bed, staring at one of her textbooks in confusion, but you know she’s only faking studying until you say something. you can tell she wants to apologize, she wants to say something, but if you can appreciate anything, it’s that megan is showing some restraint and stopping herself from crashing out in the middle of your dorm room.
you play mindlessly with your laptop as a specific email catches your attention. you had read it weeks ago, but archived it. the cyclones were your whole life at this point. this team had filled your heart with such a sense of belonging and wholeness, you didn’t even consider the idea that other schools could be eyeing you. you didn’t want any of them, you wanted sophia—
you clamp your eyes shut instantly as you realize your mistake, grimacing. you wanted malibu. you wanted to be a cyclone.
your stomach aches, thinking about the team captain. maybe this mindset of unconditional devotion was the thing truly holding you back.
so you go back to the email, and blurt it out to megan.
“UCLA is interested in me,” you tell her. “after this season.”
she looks up at you instantly, her brows tensing, but you see her instantly try to relax her face and be supportive. “oh whaaaaat? no way. that’s sick.”
you stare at your screen, feeling the ache in your chest and wishing you could just will it away in an instant.
“and since i’m still technically a walk-on, and not scholarshipped yet, i could transfer.”
“you’d leave?” megan asks softly, her eyes falling. “but we just got you, y/n. we’re about to win a championship together. you’d really leave?”
you hear the crack in her voice, but you can’t bear to look up at her. the idea sounds appealing, just a few more months and transfer over to a new school once the semester ends. move, start over, make new friends. you stop yourself from thinking about her again, pushing all thoughts of sunshine and lipgloss and singing out of your mind.
you blink a few times more, trying not to be swayed by just how fucking sad megan’s little sniffles are from her corner of your room.
“what if i don’t have anything keeping me here?” you ask, but you’re not quite sure the question is for megan any more.
—-
megan goes back to her own dorm a little bit later, after the silence gets to be too much, and you spend the rest of the evening staring up at the ceiling. you don’t have practice on sundays, so you’ll finally get a chance to sleep in, and you start to look up the forms you might need for a transfer if you opt to follow through with this. three schools in less than two years might not look great, but if it’s what’s right for you, you’ll figure out a way to explain it on a transcript.
you’re asleep with your laptop on your chest when a quiet knock on your dorm room door wakes you. you check your phone for any messages, and there’s no recent ones as you realize it’s nearly 1 am. you feel your eyelids getting heavy once more, but that knock comes back, gentle, evenly spaced, quick.
a perfect knock on the door, straight out of the movies. your stomach sinks. how fucking annoying to be so perfect, it’s recognizable, even in a knock.
you want to ask her to go away, and considering you just ditched practice for the first time all season just to avoid her, you figured she’d understand. but there’s another knock, more insistent this time, and you suck in a deep breath to try and prepare yourself for what comes next as you get out of bed and finally give in, swinging the door open.
perfect sophia laforteza has messy hair.
it’s not insane, of course even her messiness is so coordinated, but it’s the first time you’ve ever seen her hair not silky smooth falling in waves over her shoulders. it’s a little frizzy, the tiniest bit unruly, thick and admittedly even a little poofy. she has some baby hairs sticking out of her headband, her bangs pulled back. your heart thuds at the sight— sophia, in her hoodie and her shorts, and her super cute, imperfect hair that’s somehow still perfect to you, as much as you wish it wasn’t
“megan called me crying,” she says simply, her eyes dark and seeking as they look up into yours, her hands tucked into her pockets as she stands in front of your door in the middle of the hallway, “saying you wanted to leave.”
you blink at her, and honestly, you’re not quite sure what to say next.
her lips press into a tight line at your lack of response.
“i’m sorry if that’s because of me,” she breathes, quieter now.
“i’ll text megan in the morning to apologize for stressing her out. i forget how sensitive she is,” you force a smile, your forever bad habit of trying to smooth things over with anyone and everyone. you drop your eyes, unable to keep looking at her any longer without the ache in your chest roaring back to life. “i need to go to bed, good night.”
you move to close the door, but to your surprise, the door doesn’t budge.
sophia has her foot against the base, her hand around your wrist, anchoring you there.
it reminds you of that day, on the beach, your first glimpse into something more in sophia besides her cold stares and her unobtainable standards of perfection. the first time she ever reached out to grab you, you saw it— sophia laforteza, as perfect as she is, is also human, just like you.
her voice surprises you.
“please don’t go.” it’s soft, and she’s avoiding your eyes again, but you hear the rasp, the crack in her voice as she pleads with you. “please hear me out.”
you can feel the burn in your chest at how small she looks, how unfamiliar this version of her is to you. “sophia…”
“i can’t um...” she clamps her eyes shut, and it physically pains you to see just how badly she’s struggling to get the words out. how badly she wants to be vulnerable with you, how hard it is for her. “i just got used to doing it alone. for a really long time. even when my ex was there, i just never could see myself as someone...”
she trails off, and you see it again in her face. that day on the airplane, where you had complimented her, how uncomfortable it seemed to make her to hear so many nice things said about her. you feel your heart shatter for her in that very moment. she doesn’t believe it.
“and then you came in, and i tried to push you away, but you insisted on being kind to me even when i wasn’t worth being kind to, and now i have feelings for you.” she bites down on her bottom lip, the words spilling out almost rushed, as if she’s trying to get them all out at once. “so here i am, pouring my heart out, hoping you’ll stay.”
you blink back, your heart racing. “you have feelings for me?”
“i don’t need you to say it back,” she shakes her head, her brows furrowing. “i just need you to know how pissed i’ll be if you leave after i started to like you. even if it’s just as friends.”
“i didn’t know you’d care if i was gone,” you laugh, feeling your eyes water. it may be a little later than you would have wanted, but she’s trying, and you can see just how hard it is for her.
“you’re ridiculous,” she wrinkles her nose, as if it’s obvious. “i get leaving me might be easy—”
you stop her there, feeling yourself get angry at the way she talks about herself. “no. stop that. no way.”
she presses, insisting. “no, you don’t have to lie. i know how i get. i can be difficult, and a perfectionist—“
“sophia, you’re an incredible captain,” you cut her off, your voice full of conviction. “and a warm, thoughtful friend. people admire you.”
“they’re scared of me, y/n,” she breathes quietly.
“they respect you,” you insist. “you’re incredible.”
she pauses, looking at you, and you let yourself look back at her. something in her eyes change, softening, warming. like the stormclouds parting to reveal the sun.
“i didn’t believe any of that, until i met you,” she admits to you, shakily. “it was like you saw me differently. i believed it because you believed it. you treated me like i was worth it.”
“you are,” you press, before you remember something that might help convince her. “soph… the team, we made you a gift.”
she blinks back at you in shock. “what?”
you motion for her to follow you into your room, and reach under your bed to pull out a scrapbook you guys had worked on between all of you, keeping it in your room as you guys all worked on the finishing touches. the idea was to give it to her after playoffs were over, to celebrate her if you guys won and to cheer her up if you guys lost, but you figure the girls will forgive you for giving it to her a little early.
“when i first heard you were feeling homesick, we started putting it together.” you put the book in her hands and she opens it, immediately seeing all the printed photos of your team together. your days at the beaches, the practices you all bonded over, the photos of you all traveling for games, some of the random shenanigans you’d get into like karaoke. sophia turns the page and realizes that each girl on the team had written her a note about how much they appreciate her as a captain and as a friend, and paired their heartfelt notes with a photo of themselves with her.
(unfortunately, you had waited a little too long to work on your note considering you were working through a massive crush on her, but you hope she won’t mind that you’re the only person on the team who doesn’t have a page in the scrapbook.)
“this is how we see you,” you continue, watching as sophia flips through each page, reading over each and every word with unmatchable focus. “i know you have a skewed vision of yourself. you’re so, so hard on yourself. so we wanted you to have this, so you could see what the world sees. how we see you.”
“this is incredible,” sophia whispers, her eyes welling up with tears.
you’re incredible, you stop yourself from saying, letting you guys continue in silence as she reads the rest of the pages.
“megan spelled ‘gratitude’ wrong,” she laughs, wiping a tear from her cheek as she points to the mistake.
“okay, cut the girl some slack, she could barely stop crying long enough to get the words down. she was so sad thinking about how lonely you’ve been,” you laugh with her, pointing to the dried tear stains on the page. “literally sobbed all over the page and lara had to help her pull it together to finish and sign her stupid name. at this point i’m surprised there’s no snot.”
she smiles and wipes again at her cheek, clearly trying to stop herself from crying in front of you. “i’ve been a little less lonely, ever since you walked on.”
you want to reassure her that you don’t mind the tears, that you don’t mind her being human. that you adore every part of her, exactly how she is, perfect imperfections and all. you try to open your mouth, but the words get caught in your throat.
she beats you to it.
“i’m sorry if i confused you,” she sighs. “it was unfair. i’d be pissed if i was you. getting all caught up before someone had their shit together.”
“i’m not mad at you any more,” you reassure her, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. “maybe a little hurt, maybe a lot jealous.”
she lets out another laugh, and the sound warms your bones. the idea of UCLA seems so, so silly now, as you two look at the book together. this is where you belong. playing libero with the most incredible group of girls you’ve ever known. wingmanning for lara, laughing with dani, clowning manon, trying to keep megan from a near-daily crashout.
basking in the light that beams from sophia laforteza. reminding her every day that she is the sun in human form, twice as bright and just as warm. reminding her especially on the days she has a hard time believing it.
“i understand if you just want to be friends after this,” she tells you quietly, so infuriatingly thoughtful. “i totally get it. i’d love to be your friend.”
you let out a soft breath.
“i think friends a good place to be.”
sophia smiles, and you smile back. you stop yourself from reaching for her hand. her eyes twinkle as they look back at you. you watch her like she’s the sunset against the beach, and you let it warm you.
synopsis: headcanons of megan as a girlfriend | featuring: girlfriend!megan , fem!reader , wuhluhwuh , tiny bit suggestive , mentions of alcohol & being drunk , kissing , petnames ──── requested by @meiyoknsm , wc 852
taglist: @meiyoknsm
➤ author's note: here's your request!! && it's also the first thing i'm writing for katseye. i'll probably make versions of this for the rest of them and stray kids. enjoy :))) liking && reblogging would be much appreciated!!! requests are open.
- you and megan had been best friends for years before you started dating, having watched her go through the ‘pop star academy’ for katseye. you had the closest bond ever, but people saw straight through that and it was so clear that you were both so obliviously into each other. both of you SUCKED at hiding your feelings, except to each other i guess???? neither of you had any idea!!!!
- the confession i feel would be a drunk one. the two of you were having a few drinks with the rest of the girls, and megan was suddenly being very touchy, as in hitting you when she laughed, her hand lingering on your arm for a bit too long, pressing her thigh against yours.
- (you weren’t complaining)
- but then the two of you went outside and she was suddenly saying how painful it was to want someone who doesn’t want her back, leaving you like???? i’m right here megan!!!
- anyway, she finally found the courage to tell you and also kissed you 💋💋💋💋
- girlfriend!megan would be so fun to be around, with her sense of humour you’re truly never bored and you love that about her.
- girlfriend!megan who can’t keep her hands off you one way or another.
- whether it’s in an innocent way like hugging you around your waist from behind, or interlocking your pinkies in public, she likes to know you’re next to her at all times, it grounds her.
- orrrr it could be in a way that her hands always linger lower than the small of your back, or when you wear a low cut top her hands can’t help but wonder a bit.
- girlfriend!megan who loves to show you off. it’s her absolute favourite thing to do cause she can’t believe a girl so beautiful loves her???
- she always finds a way to bring you up in interviews or lives; “my girlfriend said that…” “my girlfriend likes that!”
- and on her social media she’ll post a picture of you on her instagram story with the caption “my girlfriend btw!!!!!”
- she’s just obsessed with you. as you are with her.
- girlfriend!megan who adores when you really pay attention to her or baby her. she’s sooo needy and always wants your attention on her and her only. which it is.
- if she feels like you’re paying more attention to someone else, she’ll tug on your shirt and literally whine “babyyy”, but not in a childish way just in a way of she wants to hold your hand :)
- girlfriend!megan who has a whole wall in her room dedicated to you.
- up on the wall will be so many photos of you. from tours to holidays to photo booths, it’s all up there. she also has the plane ticket from when she first met you up on the wall.
- she’s very sentimental and the little things mean a lot to her.
- girlfriend!megan who loves to send you fit checks and vice versa. she likes to tease you with it a bit though.
- she’ll send you a picture of her in a sort of revealing outfit whilst she’s out on tour and she’ll text you “you like this outfit, baby? 🫢”
- knowing you can’t do anything about how amazing your girlfriend looks, and she can just picture your face which makes her giggle. as if she can see how flushed your face is.
- girlfriend!megan who stares at you like you hung the moon and stars. she’s such a lover girl.
- and yoonchae especially teases her for it, but in a way of “ew stop looking at her like that i’m right here” but she loves the two of you together!!!
- whilst you’re doing your makeup, she’ll sit next to you and really stare at you that you literally have to click at her a few times to bring her out of her trance.
- and she’s like “‘m sorry you’re just so angelic.”
- girlfriend!megan who could listen to you yap for HOURSSS AND I MEAN HOURS. she’s just there nodding with an almost hazy look in her eyes.
- it’s adorable.
- and when you stop talking she’s like “no no no, keep going. please, keep talking!!”
- she adores it when you talk about something you’re so passionate about because she can see the glimmer in your eyes.
- girlfriend!megan who hates it when you get into an argument.
- which is a rare occasion.
- but when it happens, she’s always in tears in fear of losing you, which you always reassure her you’re not going to leave, you just need a few minutes on your own.
- sometimes she can’t comprehend that you want to be on your own after an argument because she just wants you to hold her.
- after a few minutes in your bedroom you come back to her, she’s seated in the living room and you immediately open your arms for her
SMAU . You just broken up with your older boyfriend after finding out he had cheated on you with another girl in your studies class. To get back at him you decided to date his loser of a sister, megan — who was his younger twin. Will you fall for her or is your heart destined for her..?
PARING . gp megan . s x fem reader
CONTENT warning . smut , fluff , angst , kys jokes , uni au , bullying , cheating mentioned .
author's note . so.. this is gonna be messy so — i’m the birthday confetti 🥱 — m.list
YURI LOVERS . CHER .
chapters -> TEXTS* + WRITTEN
01. with who*
02. hello*
03. twins.*
04. unknown . 05. unknown . 06. unknown.
TAGLIST . comment to be on it. [ 05/45 ] @wtfisthisnoclueman @highonheavens @fein4lararaj @postergirlll @reia-2x10 @s0ph14z
Summary — Everyone online seemed to think that you were Manon’s girlfriend. And sometime down the line—she started to wonder what it would be like to be loved by you.
Content Warnings — A tad bit of angst but ends with comfort, hopelessly in love reader, smut with plot (18+), dom Manon, inexperienced reader, friends to lovers, voyeurism, praise kink, overstimulation kink, choking, jealous Manon, reader is the soft masc who wears makeup and stuff like that, Manon likes being called Mami <3
Authors Note — I have so many ideas in my head for her and just can’t help but write as many as I can think of. I love this woman and need that so badly. I HOPE YOU’RE OKAY MANON MY LOVE !!!
This “____,” indicates your name. No Y/n.
—
There was music blasting throughout the hotel suite room that the girls were sharing tonight, Manon, Daniela and Lara dancing however they wanted. They were currently on a Weverse live which was always one of those chaotic times that their fans loved. It was Lara the first to sit back down, Daniela and Manon still behind her dancing their hearts out. They were doing all kinds of funny things, singing songs, dancing to random music, playfully hitting each other when the other didn’t agree to something. It was a funny sight to see, one that would be all over TikTok.
Lara was reading all the comments, her fingers threading through her hair and her face a little close to the camera to see what they were saying. And of course they were talking about ____, they always did when Manon was in the live.
____’slover : Where is ____?!?!?!
Manonspeanutbutter : Manon you look so good!!
Daniwanny : I wonder if ____ is in the live?
Laraswettshirt : Lara just one chance please!
____’sbiggestfan : Tell ____ to drop a album!
Lara’s eyes scanned as many comments as she could, her voice breaking the chaotic dancing once she said, “They want to know where ____ is, Manon.” That made Manon instantly stop dancing, Daniela as well, both girls taking their spots beside Lara and reading the comments to see that a lot of people were in fact asking about her. Daniela and Lara both saw the way Manon practically lit up, Lara turning to Manon to see her practically unfolding right before their very eyes. To think anyone could make Manon fold was beyond belief, because she was the one that usually made other people do that.
Manon adjusted her hair as she spoke, “____’s either at the studio or she’s in bed sleeping.” The other girls beside her nodded their heads in agreement, the comments still asking about her. “Y’all I haven’t seen her in a while dude, like I feel like I’m going crazy.” Manon told the eyecons, which made Lara and Daniela look at her with a smug look. “Like—these two won’t cuddle with me and then when ____’s here, she cuddles me like a baby and—ughhhh—I need that.” She dragged those last few words out, making it dramatic which definitely was noticed by the other two girls that were currently in the live with her.
Daniela looked at the screen and said, “I swear I think they got married behind our backs or something.” The way the comments started getting faster should’ve been absolutely impossible, they could hardly read it until Daniela saw one comment that asked her why she says that. “Literally—look ____ already has Manon’s first name tatted on her neck—“ You could hear the laugh come from Lara, Manon just sitting there like she didn’t care, “They also have like these matching rings that neither of them take off! Tell me they’re not married?!” Daniela practically squealed, her smile as bright and vibrant as the sun.
“I’ve been meaning to ask that, Manon—“ Lara began, her head turned to Manon who was now looking at her. “Why did she get your name tattooed on her? And in the most visible area too.” They didn’t find it to be a problem, everyone actually thought it was cute how much ____ cherished their friendship in such a deep way. But tattooing her name on her was a permanent commitment and the ink wasn’t red, so it wouldn’t be easy to cover up at all.
Manon sat back and looked at the camera, “Y’all know she’s one of my best friends. She asked me what she should get tatted on her and she couldn’t figure it out so I told her to let it be anything that meant something to her. After she got it she was like, ‘I just finished the tat Meret, you wanna see?!’ And she showed up with my name on her neck.” The comments were indeed going crazy, going faster than holy heck. “But it looks so tea so I don’t mind it. She looks so good with it.” Manon complimented, her eyes staying fixated on the camera, completely missing the way Daniela and Lara gave each other that knowing look.
Daniela tapped Manon and gained her attention, “So basically you are married?” She asked, Manon opening her mouth to say something which Daniela cut off. “No cause that’s like relationship goals and stuff—it does look good I won’t lie, but it’s like funny how you’re not phased by it at all.”
Lara pointed at Manon and continued talking for Daniela, “No but for real. Every-time Manon goes to post ____ on her story, she always has to show her neck tattoo. It’s like she wants people to know it’s there which by the way Manon—“ Lara pointed at her who was staring at her, “Doesn’t help the allegations of you guys being together in a relationship. Cause you could’ve fooled me, if I didn’t know y’all even I’d think you were a couple!”
“I can say this because I know she’s not in the live y’all, but that’s my ____.” Manon says as she pats her chest, both eyes of the other girls settling on her with soft smiles splattered across their faces. “Like I just love her so much and miss her like crazy, it’s not even funny. When I seen she had got my name tattooed—she had me kicking my feet and shit y’all.”
The two girls next to her laughed and repeated, “She had you kicking your feet and shit?” Lara questioned jokingly.
“She had her kicking her feet and shit.” Daniela laughed, which caused the other two girls to chime in and laugh too.
They all looked up at the camera, comments continuing to flood the live as Lara chirped up, her head snapping to Manon. “No y’all listen, one time I complimented ____ because she was like—she looked so good and I wasn’t even talking to Manon right?” She paused, Manon looking at her with her eyes narrowed. “But she heard me and was glaring daggers into me all night I’m like woahhhh! Calm down girl!”
Daniela chuckled loudly, “Dude for real, like you should not! And I repeat, you should NOT compliment her when this one’s around. She is not gonna like that at all!”
“It wasn’t even that, relax y’all.” Manon smiled as she spoke, her eyes going back to the camera.
“Yeah okay Manon, we all know how pissed off that made you.” Lara spoke, the girls sharing a small laugh. “If my best friend looked like that I would protect her sexiness too.”
Manon stared at the camera and said, “You’re such a lesbian.” Lara only laughed and shrugged. The girls went quiet for a bit, just doing their own thing except Manon who was still reading the comments.
Manonspeanutbutter : Is ____ single?
eyeconzzz : Manon stop acting like she’s only your friend
megansgamerheadset : She’s clearly so in love with her like bffr
“Y’all needa stop, for real.” Manon laughed, watching the comments go into a blur once again. She always found ____ to be very attractive though but she wasn’t going to breach her friendship with her just because of her attraction. “Like I find her to be like—really pretty, but that’s just my girl y’all. We’re nothing more, I promise.” Manon wasn’t very convincing, hell just look at all the videos on the internet when they’re together, they always have to be touching and always look at each other in ways that seemed far too intimate to be just friends.
Manon couldn’t lie, she’s thought about it before but they were just thoughts that she put in the back of her mind. It wasn’t something she wanted to pursue, because not only that, she knew how much ____ had going on. Traveling the world and doing shows and concerts left and right, which ____ always said that that made her too busy. Manon was the type to want a partner who wouldn’t be too busy for her, so ____ was definitely not on that list. Maybe if she wasn’t so busy all the time, Manon would consider it and possibly be in a relationship with her right now. But the two are almost always far away from each other, meaning, so much away time.
However though, ____ never failed to make sure she let Manon she was okay and that she missed her. Every morning, ____ sends Manon a long message that Manon always loves so very much and at night, she’d do the same thing. Sending a long good night message that Manon always loved, having a collection of screenshots of messages from her. Manon had a huge soft spot for her and no matter what, she didn’t want to do anything to ruin what they had. The most precious friendship she has ever had the blessing of having. She sometimes wondered how she was so lucky to even have her in her life.
____official ⭐️ : Hi guyssss! I miss y’all and I love y’all! I love you Meret! 🫶
lovealways : Hiiiiiii ____!
____’slover : ____ the kids miss you!
starshine : Drop the album ____ frfr
A shriek came from Manon that caused Daniela and Lara to jump, “Oh my God, ____!!!! I miss you baby!!!” That caused Lara and Daniela to look at the phone, smiling once they realized she was indeed in the live.
“Hi ____, we love you mommy!” Daniela waved, smiling brightly as she did.
“We miss you toooo!” Lara smiled, all three girls now focusing on the live.
____official ⭐️ : I saw y’all were on here and wanted to let y’all know that I’ll be back in LA tonight and will stay for a month!
The way Manon’s excitement didn’t go unnoticed by anyone, her eyes practically sparkling. ____ had a chokehold on her so badly she couldn’t even deny it, but that was besides the fact that she hadn’t seen her in months and now she gets to spend an entire month with her. “Oh my god y’all—____ we gotta spend every day together then! I miss you so much you don’t even understand.”
Daniela and Lara just knew she was just so in love that it wasn’t even hidden. It was the cutest thing ever though, “Please hurry up and come back ____ because she’s been being so mean when you’re not here.” Daniela joked, causing Manon to turn to her with a playful offended look.
“I do not, stop lying!” Manon interjected, turning back to the camera to read the comments again.
____official ⭐️ : I’m going straight to your house when I land Meret. I miss you just as much and can’t wait to see you.
Lara saw how Manon lit up at that, “____ please spare her because she doesn’t know how to act right now.”
Manon just smiled, “That’s my girl y’all, I love her so freaking much. What time are you getting on your flight ____?” Manon asked, her head resting in her hand as she laid on her stomach, Daniela leaning over top of her and Lara also staring next to them both.
____official ⭐️ : I’m on my flight now! I’m supposed to land around 10 so I’ll be seeing y’all soon if y’all are at Meret’s house afterwards. My phone is dying though so I’ll call you when I land Meret! I love y’all!
“Nooooo, my baby!” Manon whined, her smile being as bright as the sun. “I love you ____, I’m waiting for that call!”
“Bye loveeee—we’ll see you later!” Lara waved.
“See you ____, and bring me some airplane snacks!” Daniela chimed in, her wave small.
They couldn’t help but notice how excited Manon was, seeing as she grabbed the phone and announced to the eyecons. “My girl is on the way, so I’m ending this thing, goodnight eyecons!” And with that, the live was over. It was already 8:50pm so it was less than an hour before ____ arrives, so she had to hurry up. She was already getting up and throwing her bag over her shoulder.
Daniela and Lara looked at her like she was crazy, “Calm down girl, you’re gonna see her in an hour not in the next 5 minutes, relax.”
“Yeah, we know you missed her but we need to stop being in denial about being in love with her.” Lara added, Manon turning to her with her brows knitted together. “I mean—y’all would be cute together. Hell, she’s like the only person you let call you by your first name without cringing.”
Manon’s arms crossed over her chest, her eyes going from Daniela to Lara—to Lara and then back at Daniela. “____ has just always been there, no matter what. I do love her but just not in that way no matter how painfully fine she is—“ Manon paused with a laugh, the other girls laughing as well. “But there’s nothing going on there, I swear to y’all.”
They just stared at her, “Well alright, if you say so Manon. We don’t blame you but at the same time if you do get those kinda feelings for her, be upfront and honest with her girl.” Lara told her, seeing Manon nod as she stood across the room.
“Well we’re gonna be over there probably tomorrow because I’m tired.” Daniela told Manon, Lara nodding in agreement.
“That’s fine.” Manon said, her hand on the doorknob before she said, “Just gives me more time to catch up with my girl. I’ll see y’all later, love y’all!” Manon waved at them, the two giving her an enthusiastic bye and love you back. Manon was so excited she practically ran to her car after she left the building, her hand going to fish out of phone from her purse to send ____ a message.
My ____ 🥹💕
____ baby I can’t wait to see you! I’m on my way home right now so I’ll see you in a few! Love you! 💕
Read at 8:55pm
I can’t wait to see you too Meret! You’re all I’ve been thinking about so best believe I’m going to give you a ginormous hug when I see you! I love you so much! ❤️
My ____ 🥹💕
I love you, be safe on your flight! I’ll be home when you get here! 💕
Read at 8:56pm
Okay Meret! I’m so excited, I’ll be there soon. I love you more! 🫶❤️
Manon stared at the messages for a long moment, smiling so softly. She loved ____ so much it was unreal, she couldn’t wait until she got to be with her again. Her ____.
—
—
—
The fight was long and annoying, but you landed 20 minutes before you were actually scheduled to. So you decided that it would be best to surprise Manon. You had swung by a drove around a bit, looking for any store that was open because you wanted to get her some flowers. And of course, you were lucky it was 9:40 because there was a shop right across the street. A flower shop. There were so many to choose from, but you wanted to get the best for her. That’s when your eyes landed on a bouquet of beautiful marigolds, shining as brightly as she did.
You paid for them and was off to your vehicle, now heading to Manon’s home. You were sure she was home by now and hopefully she was still awake because you really are dying to see her, you missed her so much and even though you’re exhausted from all the stuff you’ve been up to, you had all the energy you needed for her. It didn’t take you too long to get to her place and luckily she gave you a key to her front gate and home so you could get in. Making sure to lock the gate behind yourself, you pulled your car into her driveway. You were so excited, gathering your things and the flowers you just bought for her. You took a step out of your car, closing the door which then turned your car off.
With careful steps, you walked up her staircase and pulled your keys from your pocket. You were being as quiet as you could, putting the key in the key hole and successfully unlocking the door. Once you were inside, you gently locked the door behind you, looking around and getting that comforting warmth you always did. You could smell something delicious and also hear shuffling around that was accompanied by the sound of soft music. Manon was in the kitchen. You took careful steps through her home, walking around a corner and spotting her. She was facing your direction but she wasn’t looking at you due to her looking down at some vegetables she was chopping up.
You leaned against the entryway, smiling and softly saying, “Meret.” She looked up and practically jumped over the moon, her entire face glowing with a bright smile. She placed the knife down that she was using and ran around the kitchen island, your arms already open wide to give her the biggest hug you could ever give her. Once she got to you, the impact of her hugging you almost knocked the wind out of you, but you engulfed her in the most desperate hug you’ve ever given anyone.
“Oh my god, ____! I missed you so freaking much—!” She jumped slightly in the hug, pulling back to look at your smiling face, her hands cupping your cheeks to get a really good look at you. “I missed you so much, you don’t even understand! Look at you—you’re so adorable!” She pulled you back into the hug, her scent and warmth being so welcoming that you melted completely in her arms, your head resting on her shoulder as you held her closely. You didn’t even realize you had tears coming out of your eyes until she pulled away from you and looked at your face. “Awe, ____, what’s wrong?” She asked, clearly concerned.
You shook your head, “Nothing, I just missed you so much Meret. Being without you for so long was so hard—I’m telling you I cried so many times because I was missing you.” You could see the soft smile she gave you, her thumbs going to your cheeks to gently wipe away the tears.
“Aweeee ____, babes it’s okay. You know I’m always one call away, don’t ever feel like I’m not there with you. Even if it’s not physically, I will always be there with you in spirit, okay?” Her eyes stared up at you, making that cute face that always made you smile. “Look at that smile. Come on, are you hungry? I know you probably haven’t eaten a single thing since you got on that plane.”
You shook your head, “Nah I haven’t ate. I was gonna go get something to eat but since I got off my flight earlier than expected, I wanted to surprise you.” Manon grabbed your hand as she listened to you, walking back around the kitchen island and guiding you to the stool closest to her. You sat on the stool after you pulled it a bit closer to her. You placed the flowers on the counter, knowing she was more excited to see you than notice the flowers. “These are for you, Mer.” You pointed to them, her eyes coming up to finally spot the flowers, the biggest smile etched across her face. She picked them up and couldn’t contain her happiness, her glow making you smile.
“You always know how to make a reunion special, huh?” Manon loved when you got her flowers, she had an entire collection of gifts you gave her. She put the flowers back down and said, “I’m gonna put these on my nightstand.” Her smile still as bright as it was since you entered. You were staring at her, your elbow resting on the counter as you hand held your head up. She looked up at you, “You look tired as hell, ____. Didn’t get any sleep on the plane?”
“You know how me and planes are. Turbulence is something that’ll keep my ass awake.” She chuckled at that, her soft laugh making your heart melt. “How has everything been here with you? I know we haven’t talked as much as I would’ve loved for us to while I was away, so lemme know everything.” You told her.
“Well—“ She started, placing the knife down again as she slid both of her hands across the edge of the counter, leaning against it and staring at you. “There hasn’t been much going on, just rehearsals, meet and greets, me and the girls partying. The usual. But we’re off for the rest of this week so tomorrow night we’re hitting the club!” She did a little dance as she said that, your smile making her smile even more. “What about you though? How has it been adjusting to this rapping stuff? I know you got the ladies going crazy when you’re on stage.” She teased.
You shrugged, “Eh, I don’t care for them. It’s been pretty intense though, and this shit has me exhausted. My manager keeps trying to get me to go to clubs too, saying I need to let loose and relax but that is not my type of relaxing.” You explained, and she knew that.
“Oh yeah, your type of relaxing is staying up at 2 am playing that blocky game with Megan and Yoonchae.”
“First of all, it’s called Minecraft and secondly—you know me so well.” You both shared a laugh, a soft sigh escaping you both and your eyes locking for what felt like eternity. “I really missed you, Meret. Honestly and truly—there’s not a day that went by when you weren’t on my mind.”
Manon walked over to you and hugged you, placing herself in between your spread thighs as she wrapped her arms around your neck. If anyone saw you—they’d definitely think you were a couple. Especially with your hands being placed on the small of her back. She pulled away to look at you, “Me too. I won’t lie, I cried a few times when I missed you too.” Manon loved touching your face, her hand going to your chin to gently turn your head to take a look at the tattoo that was still freshly inked into your skin. ‘Meret.’
“I see you really fuck with the tattoo.” You said, feeling her fingertips graze it gently.
“It looks good on you. I may have to get me one with your name on it.” She released your face and went to her stove, opening it up and bending over to do so. She looked so divine but out of respect, you had to look away. She was only wearing a pair of black sweats, a cropped long sleeve t shirt, and she still made the simple outfit look fantastic. Not to mention how gorgeous her curly hair splayed on her shoulders.
“What you making?” You asked her and looked at her once she finally stood up straight, holding a pan with two oven mitts and placing it on the countertop.
“Meatloaf.” She knew that was your favorite, seeing how your eyes lit up from across the counter. “I’m surprised you didn’t recognize the smell.”
“I guess it’s been so long since I had your meatloaf. Which is the best meatloaf ever, might I add.” She smiled and removed the cover that was keeping the heat in, the steam shooting up and around the kitchen. She took the oven mitts off and let the meatloaf rest on the side, then walking back to the cutting board. You looked at her and couldn’t help but compliment her. “You’re so beautiful Meret. Always so beautiful.”
A small smile tugged at her lips before she looked up. She would be lying if she said that didn’t make her heart do a million backflips. “So you finally come back to LA and decide to flirt with me. Real smooth ____.” She chuckled. You both enjoyed the soft music as Manon continued cooking, walking around the kitchen and getting everything ready. She sung softly to songs that came on, occasionally feeding you some of the food she was cooking, giving you a taste test. It was a ten out of ten for you, everything she cooked was so good.
Once she was finished, she set both of your plates up, meatloaf, a side of vegetables, some fruit, and a small slice of cornbread. She knew you must’ve been hungry because you seemed to never really eat if it wasn’t her cooking, so she wanted to make tonight special for you. You both sat at the kitchen island and ate, facing each other as you talked with each other, laughing occasionally and just enjoying the moment you two finally got to share together. She missed this—missed you. And now that she has you, she didn’t know if she wanted you to go back home after the month is over.
You helped her clean the dishes when you both were done, covering leftovers and putting them in her fridge. She guided you upstairs, holding onto your hand as if you would disappear if she wasn’t. She took you to her bedroom, because she’d be dammed if she let you sleep alone after you finally came home. You smelled great so she wasn’t going to bother you with a shower, she knows you showered before coming. But she let you get comfortable, watching you take the hoodie off you were wearing, having a white t shirt and just your gray sweats on now. She watched you plop down onto her bed, a smile pulling at her lips.
She walked around the side of the bed and crawled onto it, “Get your booty up.” She chuckled, watching you groan and sit up to let her pull the covers up, holding it open to invite you in. Once you crawled in, she settled onto her back, you instantly coming up to cuddle onto her chest, your head resting on her with your arm laid across her stomach. She instantly pulled you closer, her arms going to wrap around you. The way your eyes closed made her smile so brightly, hearing how your breathing already slowed to the soft hum of a snore. You were already out and she found you to be so adorable. She placed a kiss to your temple, a slow lingering kiss that she touched softly like she was planting it permanently on your skin.
She had to take a picture and send it to her girls, so that’s exactly what she did.
Manz 💛
My baby is home!
Read by Everyone
Lara ❤️
Aweeeee look at the two lovebirds!
Read by Everyone
Dani 💕
She looks soooooo at peace girl, you’re really her person. 🥹
Read by Everyone
Megatron 🤖
____! Ask her if she wants to play Minecraft, me and Yoonchae have been waiting for months!
Read by Everyone
Manz 💛
Dude she’s literally asleep I’m not waking her for no gaming session
Read by Everyone
Yoonchip 🍪
She said when she came back that would be the first thing we’d do so wake her
Read by Everyone
Lara ❤️
Let the baby sleep, I’m sure she was tired as hell from all the concerts and shows she’s been doing
Read by Everyone
Manz 💛
She was because after we ate she almost instantly went to sleep
Read by Everyone
Sophia ❤️
All of you should be sleeping because we literally have rehearsals in the morning. Not only that, y’all wanted to go to the club tomorrow night so go to sleep. Tell ____ I miss her!
Read by Everyone
Yoonchip 🍪
Yes mom 🙄
Read by Everyone
Sophia was always easily able to shut anything down. She didn’t play when it came to their schedules so she wasn’t even being mean, she was just very responsible. Manon tossed her phone to the side and slid down further into the bed, her arms locking you in a tight hold. She snuggled closely to you, your soft snoring causing it to be easier for her to fall sleep. She needed you just as much as you needed her and the fact that you’ve been separated for so long made everything about this worth it.
—
9:30a.m.
Manon was now at rehearsal, a little sad since she had to leave ____ so early. But she made sure to leave her a message on her phone, letting ____ know that she’d be back later. She made sure she didn’t wake her earlier which was easy considering how sleepy she was before. She knew they’d probably be stuck in rehearsals all day considering how distracted she was. She just wanted to go back home to ____. To her home. They were on a 15 minute break, Manon sitting on the floor with her legs splayed out, her phone in her hands.
She was scrolling through her gallery, looking at pictures of ____. Of course her friends noticed, this time Megan and Lara coming over to see what she was doing. Lara sat beside her on the left, Megan on the right and both of them saw her phone. “Why do you look like a sad puppy?” Megan asked, leaning back on her hands.
“She had to leave ____ earlier and now she’s sad about that.” Lara was trying to tease Manon, but considering that Manon didn’t smile or anything was pretty concerning. “Are you okay Manon?”
Manon just shook her head, brows knitted together. “Nothing I just—can’t get her outta my head. I don’t know why it hurts so much to be away from her.” Manon explained, her eyes still on her phone scrolling through picture after picture—video after video.
Sophia was walking by and heard the three talking, which caused her to become curious and join the conversation, crouching before the three and eyeing Manon. “What’s wrong?” She asked, clearly concerned with the sudden change in Manon’s energy.
“She’s upset because she had to leave ____ this morning.” Megan told her, eyes going back to Manon who was now looking at Sophia. She genuinely looked so sad it actually hurt the girls heart, but this attention caused Yoonchae and Daniela to join as well. All eyes on Manon.
“You know she’s gonna be there when you get back home, right Manon? She’s not going anywhere.” Sophia told her softly, trying her best not to upset her anymore. She wanted her to perk up and be happy again, because they needed good morale. Everyone needed to be in good spirits to get through rehearsals. Unfortunately for them though, rehearsals were scheduled for damn near all day and that was what upset Manon the most.
“I know but we’re gonna be stuck here all day. Then you guys wanna go to the club after—I don’t know.” Manon sighed, her gaze averting back to the floor.
“You’re never beating the allegations, Manon.” Yoonchae spoke, causing almost all the girls to look at her.
“I can understand being upset for not being around your friends but—you look like you’re about to cry.” Lara informed her. “Are you sure you don’t like her more than a friend?” She asked, everyone’s gaze returning to Manon who was just staring at the floor.
“Because it’s okay if you do—“ Sophia began, her hand going to Manon’s leg who was now looking up at her. “We know how good she treats you and how often she’s there for you. We wouldn’t even blame you if you liked her more than a friend.”
“Hell people already think y’all are dating, so what’s so wrong with going for it?” Megan asked, shrugging as she did so.
Manon’s shoulders rolled, a sigh escaping her. “I don’t know. I just hate when I’m not around her. Especially after she was gone for months and just came back. It just feels weird, you know?”
They wouldn’t blame her if she wanted something with ____, but she was in so much denial it wasn’t even funny. Everyone could see right through that “she’s just my good friend,” bullshit she kept spewing. ____ just came back last night and she’s already acting like she’s depressed after leaving her for a few hours. But they also didn’t blame Manon for not wanting to pursue her because they knew she’d possibly be overthinking if it’ll ruin anything. She was just confused, that was all there was to it.
Daniela went closer to Manon and crouched, “We understand your feelings for her and you and I both know that it’s more complicated than you’re letting on. Just—I don’t know, maybe test the waters and see if you really have more romantic feelings for her and not just that friendship stuff you keep lying about.”
Manon just stared at her, the other girls nodding in agreement. “That’s exactly why we need to go to the club so you can let loose after this. Because mopping around here isn’t helping us leave faster.” Lara told her, not in a mean way, just in that way of saying she didn’t want to be stuck in here all day. “Come on. Your ____’s gonna be home when you get back. Promise.” Lara stood and so did everyone else, except Manon. Which caused all the girls to practically pull her up, hearing her let out an annoyed groan, but they knew she was okay. They just needed to talk to her about it.
But even so… rehearsals ended at around 6:30pm. Which meant they were going to shower and head straight to the club. Somehow, Manon wasn’t thinking about ____ too much, she did need to unwind.
—
You were wrapped in Manon’s blankets, your head against the head board as you watched her tv. You could see on her location that she was still at rehearsals but at the same time, she hasn’t messaged you back yet. You’ve been blowing up her phone so maybe they were doing bad and not really getting breaks. That is, until you saw her location say she left the rehearsal studio. You thought maybe she was coming home, but you had remembered her saying she was going to the club afterwards. But you missed her, you needed to see her. And the only thing you could think to do was go to the club to see her, even though clubbing was definitely not your thing at all.
You’ve been away from her for way too long to wait an entire day just to see her again, do you were already getting up to shower in her shower. Once you were done, you went to her closet because you did not feel like unpacking any of your clothes. You were happy she had some baggy clothes, so you took a pair of her jeans, a basic top, and a zip up hoodie that you’ve seen her wear multiple times before. You were already annoyed with the fact that you needed to go to the club just to see her. When you pulled your phone out to check the time, it being 7pm now, you checked her location and saw that she was indeed at the club.
That also might means everyone else is there, so you were excited to see them all too. You wasted no more time, with putting your shoes on and heading out her bedroom, going down the stairs and leaving out the front door but making sure to lock it. It was getting dark outside and these are the moments when you’d stay inside, but you know they can always be up at night partying their hearts out. When you got in your car, you sent her one more message knowing she might not reply due to her being at this club, but you wanted to let her know you were coming. You needed to see her, and that was the only reason you’re going to this club.
It didn’t take long for you to arrive, so many people lined up around the corner. You forgot you were a rapper for a second, hearing people calling your name and practically cheering as they saw you exit your car. Asking for pictures, autographs, and hugs that you loved giving to your supporters. Luckily you being a rapper made the bouncer notice you, ushering you past everyone and letting you in the club. The God forsaken club. It reeked of alcohol, sweat, and disappointment. Your eyes scanned the room, looking for your friends, Manon, and that’s when you saw Megan. She and Lara were dancing on top of a table, seeming like they were having the time of their lives.
You walked through the crowd of people, seeing that there was some people surrounded by them just watching. But you were able to push yourself to the front, seeing that they were in the vip section. “Megan! Lara! Hey!” You called out, both of them stopping their dancing momentarily. You could see the way they lit up from the sight of you, jumping slightly. Lara whispered something to her body guard, who nodded and then went to the barricade that was closing them off from the other people. He opened it and let you in, you walking through the gate that he then closed behind you.
Once you got through, Lara hugged you, and then did Megan. “Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you ____.” Lara smiled, looking at you from head to toe. “Those—don’t look like your clothes.”
Megan chuckled, “They look just like the ones Manon wears when she’s not all glammed up.”
You looked down and grasped the hoodie, “Oh yeah—“ You chuckled, smiling as you looked back up at the two. “I didn’t really feel like unpacking my clothes so I borrowed this.” You explained to them.
“Wait ____, why are you here?” Megan asked, her head tilting slightly. “Not that we’re not happy to see you but, you and me both know that you do not fuck with clubs.”
“I wanted to see Meret.” You told the two, both of their eyes meeting before going back to yours. “I was texting her during rehearsals but she didn’t respond yet so—I guess I got a little worried.” You told them, your hand going to the back of your neck to nervously scratch it.
Lara nodded, “Rehearsals were hell today. Manon kept messing up because of you. YES YOU.” She pointed at you, your face contorting into one of confusion. “She was going on about how she hated being away from you, and how she needed to see you or she might die, so to get her to focus, Sophia took her phone. I think she still has it—which is why you haven’t gotten a reply from her.”
That made sense now. The way she was attached to you last night said everything too. “Dude she was so sad I swear she was going to cry.” Megan said, “I was gonna call you to see if you could come to rehearsals but Sophia told me not to. Because well—you’re a huge distraction for Manon.”
You threw your hands up in defense, “Can y’all stop labeling me as a distraction?” You asked, the two chuckling softly together. You looked around the vip area, “Where is Meret? And the other girls?” You asked before turning back to them.
“That’s a good question.” Lara said, her eyes now scanning the room. “They probably went to the bathroom, I’m not quite sure.”
You continued scanning the room, still not seeing them. Lara and Megan went back to dancing, you pulling out your phone to call Manon. But it went straight to voicemail, which let you know her phone was either dead or you’re unknowingly blocked. You highly doubt that though, so you just sat in the vip lounge that was away from so many eyes. You couldn’t help but wonder where they could possibly be. You wanted to leave so badly, you really did but you needed to see her. You stood up, walking through the lounge and back to where Lara and Megan were previously standing, but now they were too gone. Were they playing a joke on you?
Not only did you hate clubs, but you also hated being alone in huge places like this. There were so many cameras on you, and you tried your hardest to look nonchalant, trying to act as if you were relaxing on your phone but you weren’t. You were secretly just scrolling back and forth on your messages with Manon, looking for her everywhere. That is, until you finally spotted Daniela. She was standing with the rest of the girls. Your eyes finally spotted Manon as well, standing next to them all, looking graciously beautiful. She had her hair braided up in a bun that complimented the black dress she wore so well.
She looked divine, and you didn’t hesitate to leave the vip area. People were staring at you as you went and as you got closer, someone stopped you dead in your tracks. “Hi there.” A woman who you clearly didn’t know greeted you, her eyes scanning your face. “Sorry to bother you but I’m such a huge fan and was wondering if I could get a picture with you?” She asked you, which softened you a bit.
You nodded, “Of course.” Which she then pulled out her phone and you naturally placed your arm on her shoulder, just to show her you’re welcoming and friendly.
When you took the picture, she pulled back and smiled at you, “I was wondering if you did—hookups with your fans?” She boldly asked, your head tilting in confusion, her eyes trailing you everywhere. “I couldn’t help but notice how tensed you looked, so I wanted to personally help you relax.” She mused, her eyes dark and narrow the more she spoke. You didn’t know what to say, your mouth opening and closing which only seemed to ignite a fire in her, her smile widening as she took a step closer. Her outfit was very revealing, showing everything which made you avert your gaze.
“Um no—I’m sorry but I don’t hookup with fans.” You told her, but she clearly wasn’t backing down. She wanted you so badly but you definitely didn’t want this. You’ve been hit on by fans before, but no one has ever boldly came and asked you if you’d sleep with them.
Little did you know, Manon’s eyes were on you. The other girls were eyeing you too, knowing that Manon was indeed getting jealous and territorial. But they all knew that you were getting attention that was very unwanted, attention that you never looked for. And it pissed not only Manon off, but everyone else too because they could see how uncomfortable you looked. They didn’t even try to stop Manon when she started walking your way, but to cause a problem, but just to get you out of that situation. She knew she was jealous, she could feel her heart drop when she saw you with that woman who was clearly hitting on you.
“That’s too bad. I could show you a good time though. Whatever stress you’re dealing with will be gone by tomorrow morning.” She told you, her hand going to graze your jaw, your body stiffening up like you were being yelled at. “Just one word, you and me, in the bathroom. It’ll make all your problems go away.”
You gently grabbed her hand and removed it from your face, shaking your head as you did so. “No, I’m so sorry but I can’t do—“ Your words were cut off by a hand grabbing your wrist, your eyes looking up to see it was just who you wanted to see. Manon. She looked upset and you’re sure she was because this woman was all in your space.
“She said she’s okay. Please leave her alone.” Manon stared at the woman, her eyes burning holes into her skull. She didn’t let the woman say anything as she started pulling you away with her, not once letting you out her grasp. “You don’t need to be in a place like this.” Was all she said, her hand dropping from your wrist to your fingers to intertwine them. You thought you were going over to the rest of the girls who were staring at you both.
“Are y’all leaving?” Daniela asked.
You were trying to say something but Manon answered, “Yeah, we’ll see y’all later.” She waved softly, smiling like that situation hadn’t pissed her off. But they just waved back, not missing the small smile and wave you shot at them which they returned. Once you were outside, Manon let go of your hand, following you to your car that you instinctively opened the door for her. Once you were both inside, she had her arms crossed over her chest, staring forward and saying, “We gotta have a talk.”
You could feel your entire heart drop, she usually wasn’t serious with you but you could hear that this was serious. You don’t know what you could’ve done, you came to see her and now she seemed upset at you. You didn’t say anything, just driving with soft music playing. You kept glancing at her, and yeah she did look a bit upset. Not fully angry, just a tad bit annoyed. You didn’t know why you felt so nervous, like you knew she was upset but you never liked any kind of animosity between you and her. The tension was thick, your hands shook on the steering wheel.
The drive felt long but it wasn’t really. Once you were at the front door of her home, she unlocked it and let you in first. With the soft sound of her door closing and the soft click of lock going in place, Manon calmly said, “Sit.” Pointing towards the living room, your legs feeling heavy as you walked. You took a seat on her couch, Manon following behind you and standing before you, a soft sigh coming from her before her hand rubbed against her forehead. Like she was soothing an ache in her head.
“Meret, what’s wrong? I don’t understand why you’re upset with—“
“I’m not upset with you.” She cut you off, not with any hint of anger.
She seemed jealous and you could see it clearly. “Then what’s wrong? If you’re jealous that I was talking to that woman, I promise it wasn’t like that.” You reassured her, seeing her shoulders relax momentarily.
Manon sighed and paced for a second, the sound of her heels clicking as she moved. “Okay—I can admit I was a little jealous, yeah.” She looked at you, her eyes softening at the way you stared at her. “Okay maybe I was very jealous. I just—I don’t know what’s going on with my feelings.”
Your head tilted, curiosity getting the best of you. “What do you mean?”
She bit her bottom lip as if she was debating on telling you or not. “I feel like I’m going crazy. It’s like when you’re around, I feel at home. And when you’re not, my entire mood changes.” She spoke, you not interrupting her once. “I can’t explain it—but I know that I hate seeing women all over you.” You could hear the way her voice shook just a bit, her eyes not meeting yours. “Even though you weren’t giving in to her, something about it made me so mad I wanted to drag her through the damn club.” A short humorless laugh escaped her, her eyes landing on your face.
“Meret.” You stood up, standing in front of her with your hands gently going to grab at her forearms. “I promise you don’t ever have to worry about women around me. I wasn’t even in the slightest bit interested in her.” You chuckled, watching her look at you, smiling softly. “You were the only woman I was looking for out there. And then when I did see you—“ You spoke, your eyes respectfully taking in her appearance, “I was just—so amazed by how beautiful you look.” The way she stared at you was dangerously attractive, your hands leaving her forearms so you could contain yourself. She smiled brightly at you, her arms snaking around your waist to pull you into a hug.
You returned it, feeling her relax against you which made your body relax as well. Once she pulled back, her eyes stared deeply into yours, which made you so very nervous. You could feel your heart beat growing faster, the feel of her hands snaking their way up your sides to settle onto your shoulders. You saw the way her eyes looked down at your lips, which made you freeze, but you had to stop her. Your hands went to hers and pulled them off your shoulders. You just didn’t want her to do something she’d potentially regret. “Meret I uh—I think we should maybe not…” You didn’t even know what was happening, but your heart thumped harder than holy hell.
She looked away for a moment before asking, “Could you see us as more than friends?” She saw how that shocked you, her eyes scanning your features before she continued talking. “It’s just that—“ Manon paused, taking a deep breath before she started talking. “The girls and I were talking. They were saying how they felt like my feelings for you were more than on the friendship level. And I’m starting to think they were right.” She could hear the way your breathing hitched. “I don’t wanna ruin our friendship, but I also don’t wanna keep pretending like I just wanna be your friend. The way I cry over you when you’re not here is definitely not how I cry over anyone else.”
You listened to her carefully, watching her pull away just slightly. She looked like she was going to break any moment now, so you took a hold of her hand to stop her. “Meret, listen to me.” You softly said to her, her eyes searching your face for any signs of uncertainty. “I’m gonna be honest since we’re here now.” You started, chuckling as you spoke. “I know I’ve been hopelessly in love with you ever since we became friends.” You nervously said that, barely being able to speak correctly. “I thought it was just a little crush that would go away but hell—it didn’t. Then when we had that conversation about how busy I seemed to always be, I was like—damn how the fuck can I be with her when I’m not always around? I know you said physical touch is your love language…”
She stared at you, her lips parted slightly as she stared at you. She didn’t say anything, her hand going to the back of your neck, her fingertips playing with the hair at the base your neck. Her fingers trailed from your neck to your jaw, turning your head to the side so she could see the tattoo. “You already got my name branded on you. The Internet thinks we’re together. Do you think—this would ruin us?” She asked you, her hand going to your chin to turn your face back towards her. She was so beautiful you could feel yourself nearly folding at the mere sight of her pretty doe eyes.
Your lips trembled, your brain almost forgetting to speak. “I—I don’t think it would.” You answered honestly. “I know how I feel, and how I’ve felt for so long.” You stared at her for a second before continuing. “I know I love you. I’m in love with you, and if our current careers weren’t getting in the way, I’d love to be with you. I mean, I don’t have a problem with the fact that we’re not always together because I know whenever I come back to LA, I’ll always come back to you.” The way her entire demeanor seemed to relax made you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in.
But Manon didn’t say anything, the feel of her hand going back to the nape of your neck. Her face was centimeters away from yours, “I love you—“ She muttered, letting her lips press gently against yours for a second, “And I wanna be with you too. I can get over us being apart sometimes—but I can’t get over the thought of another woman having you.” She pulled you into a deep kiss, her lips being softer than you’d expect. She was feverish, her tongue swiping your bottom lip which made you open your mouth, inviting her tongue to intrude. Your entire body was as stiff as a board, you didn’t expect this to happen.
She was quick to push you onto her large couch without breaking the kiss, gently making sure you were comfortable and okay with everything. Her hands were exploring your body everywhere, trailing down your neck to the hem of your hoodie, which caused you to stiffen up. She noticed and hesitantly pulled away, “Are you okay?” She softly asked you, her eyes scanning your flushed face. You couldn’t even reply, only nodding quickly and staring at her like she was the most gorgeous thing on earth. And to you, she most definitely was.
She looked down at you for a second, her eyes scanning over your hoodie. “Is that mine?” She asked, trying to do anything or say anything to sooth your nerves. But still, you couldn’t form coherent words, you were so nervous, lying as flat as a board. “What’s wrong ____?” She asked.
Your mouth felt so dry, “I don’t—I just never—you know…” You couldn’t get anything out, especially with her on top of you, looking as divine as ever, but she knew what you were trying to say. But it surprised her to say the least, because she would think that with all the time you have on the road, you’d let some steam off. Well, she guessed you did that by playing games with Yoonchae and Megan all night.
She couldn’t deny knowing that you were inexperienced turned her on. No other woman had ever got to touch you before, that sent a spark of electricity through her chest and straight to her core. The way you nervously looked away had her in awe, her hand coming up to gently take a hold of your chin, turning you to face her. Her smile was so gentle but it didn’t help your nerves, you could see the dark intent behind those eyes. “Don’t be scared baby—“ She murmured, hearing your breath get caught in your throat. “I won’t do nothing you don’t want me to. But if you want me as much as I want you—“ Her voice went lower, Manon leaning down to be right by your ear, “I’ll make sure every woman on this earth knows you belong to me.” Then she gave your earlobe a small lick, before taking your lobe in between her teeth.
She could feel the shiver that ran throughout your body, her lips ghosting from your ear to your neck, right where your tattoo was. You could feel her smile against you, before her lips latched onto the skin, right next to the tattoo. She gently sucked at first, testing the waters and adding a bit more suction around the area. You could feel how fast you were hardening in your jeans, your brain feeling like it was short circuiting from her being on top of you, doing this with you. Her tongue licked a long strip over that mark she was making, so she could give it a harder suck, the way you winced making her feel more confident in her actions. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, so Manon took the liberty to grabbed your hands and place them on her plush booty. You could feel how her dress was riding up, the feel of the back of her thighs in your hands.
It was something you never thought you’d experience, because you have thought about what it would be like to have a moment like this with her before. You just such envision it would be like this, this intense. There was so much emotion going through your body, your twitching cock not calming down for a second. Her lips were everywhere on your throat, leaving marks on almost every spot she could see. You shivered beneath her, which she then took the liberty to go to the zipper of your hoodie, tugging it down slowly until it unclasped at the hem of your hoodie. Only then did she pull away off your neck, her bottom lip being bitten so beautifully by her teeth.
She sat on your abdomen and slid back slightly, the movement causing her backside to push backwards against your painfully hard cock. She felt it easily, causing her to position herself more onto it. “Do I turn you on, baby?” She asked you in such a teasing voice, her right hand going to your jaw to press her thumb against your bottom lip. You could only nod, but that’s not what she wanted. “Use your words baby. I don’t bite—well, not too hard.” She teased, especially with the way your neck was covered in many love bites that were already darkening.
You nodded frantically, “Yes—yeah Meret. You turn me on so much…” Your voice was merely a whisper, Manon being satisfied with your answer. You could see the way her dress was riding up and over her thighs, the way they looked so soft had you twitching against her. Of course she noticed, which caused her to press herself harshly against your cock, rolling her hips softly against you, the soft moans escaping you turning her into a mess. But she wanted to take her time with you, she wanted to see you fall apart underneath her.
Manon leaned down closer to your face, your lips instinctively trying to reach for hers but she just stayed a few inches away, a smile of absolute bliss etched across her face. You wanted her so badly and she would tease you until she was satisfied. Her hands fumbled at your sides underneath the hoodie, feeling you tense under her very well manicured fingertips. “You’re so sensitive, ____. If you ever wanna stop—“
“No.” You cut her off maybe a little too quickly, her smile dropping for a second. “I can shamefully admit that I’ve thought about you—in this way. It’s just making me nervous to finally have this moment with you even though I want you so bad.” She let out a soft moan at your words, her lips finding yours in a slow and delightful kiss.
Manon moved to the corner of your lips, pressing a soft kiss there and going to the space between your ear and your neck, placing another soft kiss there and whispering so seductively. “I have too.” She admitted, not an ounce of shame in her voice. “A lot of times when we’re together cuddling and you’re sleeping, I always notice the way you get hard in your pants.” She chuckled as you physically jumped a little from embarrassment. She pulled up to look in your eyes, her face mere inches away from yours. “I’ve always wanted to know how it feels to be fucked by you.”
She smiled at the way a shaky breath left your lips. But she was tired of going too slow, which resulted in her reaching behind her to take a hold of her heels, tossing them aside and then going to reach for the hem of her dress. You watched with hungry eyes, Manon didn’t waste a second before she was tugging the dress up and over her head, now being almost bare before you. Her body was heavenly, the way her skin glowed underneath the warm lights caught your eyes just right. She didn’t waste any time and took a hold of your hands, placing them back on her ass.
She was wearing a beautiful lacy black bra with matching panties, utterly breathtaking. When her hands went to the end of your shirt, she saw how your body clenched. “Are you scared?” She asked, voice so reassuringly soft that you didn’t know how to act.
“Maybe a little… but not like scared scared, more or less just nervous.” Her expression softened at that, her eyes never once leaving yours. She pulled her hands away and stood up, your eyes following her frame and watching her take a seat beside your body as you laid there. She was sitting next to your legs, her face turned to yours.
“It’s okay.” Her hand went to your thigh, gently caressing your skin behind the fabric. “We can go slow, I promise none of this will hurt.” She watched you once she reached for the button of your pants, your eyes trained solely on her. The button came undone with a soft pop, her fingers then trailing to your zipper and slowly pulling it down, the buzz being almost completely muffled to you as she did so. Her hands then went to both sides of your jeans, gently tugging them down enough to where it was underneath the bulge in your underwear. She took in the sight, you were painfully hard, throbbing and twitching just from her staring at it. “You okay?” She asked.
You nodded quickly, a satisfied smile etching across her face. She slowly reached one hand over your bulge, gently placing it against it and holding it there. She didn’t miss the way your chest quickly began to rise and fall, your cock twitching under her touch. She watched your face as she slowly massaged it, making sure her thumb sure her thumb rubbed harshly against the swollen head. Your eyes fluttered slightly, your breathing faltering and hands twitching with the slight stimulation she was giving you. She needed more, and when her hands pulled your boxers down just enough, to watch your cock spring free and bounce against your abdomen, then standing straight up with a slight lean to it.
She was very surprised with your shear size, being way bigger than she thought it would be. It only made her want you more, she needed you. But she needed to see you lose it. She wrapped one hand around you, your hips bucking involuntarily which made the beautiful woman before you smile. She slowly stroked you to the base, going all the way to the tip, a shiver running down your spine. Manon stopped for a second, “____.” She called, your eyes opening halfway to see her spitting a generous amount on of saliva on your tip, the feeling making you shudder. “Don’t close your eyes baby, I want you to watch.”
You sat up slightly, leaning on your forearms and watching as her hand softly stroked you at first, her eyes going to your face to take in your expression. “Fuck…” You moaned, your hips twitching the more she fisted your cock, her hand going up to twist up around your tip, her thumb running over your slit to smear the pre-cum around the head, letting it glisten along with the spit she gave you. Her she placed the other hand on your cock, now being able to cover almost all of her, her hands twisting in a way that had you softly moaning her name. The sound of your voice made her lower region ache, her thighs squeezing together to soothe the ache her clit was emitting. “Meret…”
Manon watched the way your abdomen tensed, your shirt exposing just a small portion of your lower stomach. Her eyes trailed to your face, your hand twitching up to grab her before you dropped it back down. Everything was feeling way too much and you’ve masturbated before multiple times, but another hand doing it for you felt like heaven. Especially her soft hands, the warmth accompanied by the wetness of your own pre-cum and her saliva. “You’re so big baby—it’s so sexy watching you fall apart for me.” Her eyes went back to your face.
Your eyes were sealed shut, your mouth slightly hung open. She could feel the way your cock twitched so vigorously, her hands working faster and holder tighter on you. She wanted to face you when you came so without removing her hands, she stood up and threw her leg over your own, her grip tightening more and more as she stroked you faster. “I’m gonna cum…” You breathed, your hand going out to grip one of her wrists, Manon loving the way your face contorted. The slick sounds being music to her ears, she couldn’t help the smile that crept upon her face.
Manon leaned closer to you, whispering right in your face, “Cum for me, baby. You’re doing so good for me—just let go.” The way your eyes slowly opened to look at her had her wanting to plunge herself on you right now, but she loved the idea of making you cum without even entering her. She removed one hand from your cock to pull your head into her shoulder, your deep breaths brings the sweetest melody she’s ever heard. “I love you ____. Be good and fucking cum for me.” One of her hands snaked up to your hair, tightly intertwining her fingers in your locs to hold you in place. Her warm breath against your ear was like adding fuel to fire, her tongue darting out to lick the soft shell of your ear.
That was all it took, your body tensing and locking, your mouth spewing a bunch of curses and her name. She pulled back slightly to watch the way the hot jets of sperm escape you, it shooting up so violently like it didn’t want to stop. She placed her other hand back on your cock, using both hands to get as much out as she could.
“Ohhh fuck—sensitive…” You murmured, her eyes trailing to your pleading face.
“Shhhhh…” Her hands slowly stroked you, your blissed out face being the perfect picture to her. “You deserve this. I know you’re only inexperienced because you were waiting for me to make a move. So relax, you deserve an award for that.” She could tell the praise from her did something to you, especially with the way your softening cock was already stiffening back up. Her lips went to yours, not wasting time as she pressed a kiss to your lips, you instantly responding and letting her tongue make way into your mouth. She sucked hungrily on your tongue, the kiss being so sloppy that saliva smeared everywhere on both your faces. You were so lost in the haze of her doing all this to you that you didn’t realize she was hovering over your cock.
She was still in her underwear, but the feel of the heat wafting off of her is what caught your attention. “Meret…” You softly called, her hand going to your face to gently caress your cheek. “Are you sure this is okay? I mean—we just…” You didn’t even know what you were trying to say, just that you were starting to feel butterflies all in your stomach swarming your intestines.
Manon’s hand slid from your face to your throat, seeing how your eyes averted to the right side of the room. She needed your full attention on her so you could know it was her doing this with you. She looked so captivating, but the lust, dominance and desire in her eyes was a beat you didn’t miss. Her hold on your throat was soft. She lowered her covered heat against your still slick cock, causing you to twitch from the aftershocks that were still there. “Why act like I just didn’t milk the fuck out of you?” She could see the way your face heated up, your ears burning at that.
She found it cute, adorable even. She let her folds spread against your cock behind her pantie, the feeling affecting her and you. She generously rolled her hips, so slowly to give you the full effect. “You’re so shy, there’s no need to be with me.” Her hips continued to rock so delightfully slow, the thick head of your cock nudging her clit every time she slid forward. Her hand left your throat, reaching behind her to unclasp the lacy black bra. Manon wanted to put on a show for you, her hands slowly removing the fabric and tossing it on the coffe table next to you.
Her perky breasts were a sight to behold, a sight that you couldn’t look away from. But more importantly, she saw the way you lit up, “Are those—?” You smiled softly.
“Nipple piercings, yeah.” She laughed softly. You chuckled but you found them to be sexy, and she saw how desperately you looked like you wanted to just ravage them. She, however, was done with all the foreplay. She took your wrists in both her hands, placing them at the edge of the couch above your head. She let her hands trail across your stomach, a shiver shooting throughout your entire body. Her lips were next to your ear, one of her hands going to your hair to lightly yank your head to the side, turning your face away from her.
“I want you to relax.” Her breath was warm against your cheek, the shell of your ear being taken between her teeth. Her hand trailed lower, taking a hold of your cock that twitched from the touch, a whimper leaving your chest. “And let me do all the work.” She used the tip of your member to move the fabric of her panties aside, the slight stimulation causing your eyes to flutter. Once the fabric was successfully along the side of her folds, she used your tip to rub it against her swollen nub, the slight squelching sound and sensation making both of you shudder.
She couldn’t take it anymore, she needed it. She needed you. She firmly grasped you, “Baby—“ Your voice shook slightly, Manon sliding your thick head between her folds and traveling it downwards to latch onto her entrance. She sat up to look down at you. Like she wanted to make sure you were comfortable. “Meret…” Was all you could muster. She looked so blissed out. With a tilt of her hips, she angled you just right to slide right in, your eyes shooting close and your body locking up. The sight was everything to her, the way you seemed to become breathless with a bunch of wanton moans escaping your throat.
She breathed a deep “fuck…” as she sat there for a moment. One of her hands slid across your chest, going to grasp at your throat. Once your eyes opened, you could see how much she needed you, she needed your attention on her. Her lips being slightly parted, the wetness in her eyes, everything was so intimate and erratic. Her hold on your throat wasn’t tight, but you knew it meant that she just wanted control over you in this very moment. She gave your hips one experimental roll, your entire body jerking from the contact. And was she loving it. “It’s so sexy when you squirm underneath me.” She let her hips drag a little more slowly, making sure you could feel every inch of her velvety walls clinging along your cock.
Your entire chest felt like it was collapsing, so much so that you completely forgot about one of the most important things. “Baby… condom?” You asked shakily, reaching your hand out to her which she took gently, before slamming it back beside your head.
Her perky breasts were in your face, the shine from the nipple piercings catching your eye. You could see the smirk visible on her face, Manon slowly yet harshly rolling her hips into your own, your eyes rolling back as she did. The feeling was all too much, but she wasn’t going to allow that. With a harsh yet soft grab, she took your chin in her hand, tilting your face to look at her. “I know you’re clean and so am I. If I’m doing this with you for the first time then I wanna feel all of you. None of that condom bulllshit.”
She wasted no time in sitting back firmly on top of your cock, her hands on her thighs, raising her hips in such a teasing yet satisfying way. The way she stared you in your eyes was so intimately beautiful that it almost had you bursting right there. Every time she pulled up, you could feel the veins in your cock being rubbed so deliciously which caused you to twitch inside her. The feeling was everything to her, and she was for sure putting on a show for you. Her right hand slide to the middle of her body, her fingers trailing up to take one of her nipples in between. She moaned at the feeling, her eyes never once leaving yours.
The way your cock was stirring her insides was such an unholy feeling, so delicately good that she knew she was going to become addicted to. Manon reached out and grabbed one of your hands, placing it on top of her unattended breast. You didn’t know what to do, just holding the mound in your hand. She didn’t seem to mind, and now she was full on bouncing on top of your cock. Your eyes looked down to where you were joined, seeing your previous orgasm spreading every time she lifted up.
The feeling was so undeniably good that the moans that escaped you were out of character. But it only fueled the woman on top of you, her hips raising and falling with reckless intent, the slicked noise being music to her ears. Her hips rolled with deadly precision, the right amount of her velvety walls nudging against your sensitive head every time she circled them. “You look so good like this, baby.” Her praise made your cock twitch which she indeed noticed. “Fuck—never woulda guessed that I could’ve had you like this for a long time. Look at me, ____.”
Her hand reached down to your throat, squeezing enough to have your breath get caught but not enough to stop airflow. She looked so divine above you, her hips working you over in a way that had you squirming underneath her. You could tell she loved eye contact. She was staring so intently into your eyes that the sight alone had your cock ready to burst. “You gonna cum baby?” She asked, her hand that was toying with her breast now reaching behind her to caress your tightened balls. You were wondering why you were so hot and forgot that you were completely clothed still, with her beautifully situated on top of you. But she was waiting for your response. Her hand around your throat tightening just slightly, “Answer me.” Her voice was stern and commanding.
Your hands shot up to her wrist, “Ye—yes I’m gonna… fuck…” She was so impossibly tight it had you losing your mind. Manon lowered herself towards you, her face a few inches away with her hand still around your throat but tightening. “Mer…” You would be a liar if you said her choking you wasn’t speeding up your orgasm, your eyes trying to stay open and on her.
She shook her head with a sly grin on her face, “Call me Mami, baby.” The way her hips sped up had you trembling, her ass rising and falling very quickly, the curve of your cock sliding so perfectly into her in a way she couldn’t even hold together. “Fuck—I need you to cum before me. Come on.” Her hand that was on your balls released them before going to her clit, getting herself to tighten the more she circled it with two fingers.
“Mami…” Your voice came out as a broken whimper and she’d be lying if she said that it wasn’t the sexiest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m so close Mami.” Your arms went to wrap around her body, just needing something to hold on to. It felt so much more intense than a regular session of you masturbating, the warmth completely engulfing your cock in a way that had your eyes stinging with slight water.
Manon inched closer to your face, her lips close yet never touching. She started riding you roughly now, her hips practically slamming against your own. The way your face started twisting, your voice coming out as broken moans of her name told her everything she needed to know. She removed her hand from your throat and placed them on either side of your head. She wanted to see and hear everything once you came, and she wasn’t going to waste this moment by choking you. Maybe another time.
Her eyes were fixed on your face, your hands tightening on her lower back once you locked up. You tried keeping your eyes on her but they instantly shot closed. Your body convulsed violently under her, her eyes never once leaving your face seeing your teeth grit the more she moved. “Oh fuck—Mami fuck…” She could feel you shooting thick ropes into her, though the sensation made her want to never get up. She hardly slowed her movements, “Baby…” Your voice trembled, your body pulling itself flush to hers to try and get some ground on the situation.
Her hand went to the back of your neck, holding you closely the more she overstimulated your nerves. “That’s it ____. Fuck I’m close too.” Her fingers trailed to your hair, threading in your locks to hold you tightly. Her eyes were shut, her face in utter bliss. She could feel how you were twitching violently inside her, cock still spurting inside her. The way you were whimpering was so sexy to her, “Hold on baby. I’m almost there.” Her free arm wrapped around your back, securing your body against her.
Your face was pressed to her collarbone, your mouth hanging open and leaving a small amount of saliva every time she bounced on top of you. Her grip around you tightened, pulling you closer to her. You were so overstimulated that your entire body was trembling, you could feel your legs shaking. It was a great feeling but a little too much, and Manon loved every second of it. “Fuck baby. I’m cumming—shit!” Her voice reached a peak you never thought you’d hear, her walls contracting violently around you before tightening completely.
She held you impossibly closer, her arms damn near constricting your blood from flowing. She gently guided her hips in small bounces, occasionally adding little circles and stimulating you more. You didn’t let her go. You couldn’t. Your arms held her, a soothing hand caressing her back trying to help her regain her composure. The feel of her body against yours was so intense, so heavenly, so beautiful that your body jerked every time she moved. Manon removed her arm from around your back, pulling your face away from her neck so she could look at you.
She watched your face wince every time she circled her hips. She tugged at the hairs on the nape of your neck and pulled you close to her, sealing your lips in a deep kiss. Her tongue slipped against yours quickly, hers sucking gently at yours causing you both to moan out in each other’s mouths. Her hips bounced gently before coming to a hesitant stop, hers walls still convulsing around you. Your hands went back to her lower back, caressing the skin so tenderly that it had her shuddering against you. Manon sighed against your lips, the kiss stopping and her pulling away so slowly.
Her eyes stared into yours, a sparkle that you swore you’ve never seen before. She was definitely in love with you and you could tell that. “Are you okay?” Her voice was so soft and gentle.
You nodded with a small grin, “I’m more than okay, Mami.”
She chuckled softly at that, “You gonna keep calling me that?” Her smile was so beautiful even after what you’ve both just done, being breathless and worn out.
“Nah. I like calling you baby more.” Her eyes held so much love and adoration that you almost cried from the sight. “What does this… y’know?”
You didn’t want to get the wrong idea, however, even though she did say she was in love with you earlier. The feelings you were feeling were a bit too much. You understood it all but you hoped this wasn’t just a quick fuck for her. She saw how you looked away a bit, her hand pulling at your chin to get you to look at her eyes. They held nothing but pure love and intentions in them. “____, I meant what I said about being in love with you. I wanna be with you so bad it fucking hurts.” A humorless laugh escaped her. “I just don’t want us to ever feel like our careers—the distance is getting in the way.”
She genuinely wanted to be with you and that had you bursting at the seams with joy inside. “Baby, I love you.” You started, hers eyes staring down so lovingly at you. “I promise you that the distance doesn’t matter to me. Not even a little bit. If you ever need me even if it’s for a second, you know I’ll be there. I’ve always been there.”
Her eyes looked like they wanted to spill over, her smile making you fall more for her. If that were possible. This time you pulled her into a kiss, initiating it deeper with your lips moving so slowly against her own. The kiss wasn’t too long once she pulled back, her hands falling to your shoulders and then forearms to gently caress your skin under the hoodie you were still wearing. “I love you more. But just know that this…” She gave a harsh bounce against your cock, your entire body jerking up as your hands tightened around her. She could only smile. “I’m probably addicted to it.”
Manon smiled before wrapping her arms back around your neck, pulling you into the most heartwarming kiss ever. You would be lying if you said that this wasn’t the best night of your life.
—
Now at rehearsals, Manon and the rest of the girls were doing the choreography for Gnarly. They’ve been here since 7am which was normal for them. It was only 9am but it felt longer. Manon was a bit sore from last nights activity but she somehow didn’t let it affect her. Her girls could see the glow on her face from a mile away, the way she smiled almost every second and the way she just looked way more vibrant. She was on her A game this morning so they knew something had happened. It left them all wondering. When it was time for break, they couldn’t help themselves.
It was Lara who walked over first with Megan, both of them watching Manon who was stretching in front of the mirror. “You gonna spill the tea or what?” Megan asked, joining her in the mirror to just look at her reflection.
“Yeah, you’ve been more focused than all of us and it shows.” Lara sat on the floor beside the two girls, stretching her legs trying to get the tension out of them.
Manon was stretching her arms above her head, now seeing Sophia and Daniela coming up behind in the mirror, though Yoonchae had walked away to go somewhere else, maybe the bathroom. She turned to all of them, “Are y’all here to like—interrogate me or something?” She asked, her eyes going between all the girls.
Sophia walked up on the right to and looked at Manon, “Not at all. We’re just curious why you haven’t done a single thing to make rehearsals chaotic yet.”
They all just stared at her, Manon turning back to face the mirror and shrugging. “Me and ____ are together.” She said it so casually like it was the most obvious thing ever. But the shock that came from them had her so confused, “What the hell are y’all freaking out about?”
“You can’t just come in here with this—“ Lara vaguely gestured over Manon, “This unknown glow we’ve never seen. You’re always glowing but my goodness!”
She could see how excited they all were, which only made her shake her head with a smile. “Oh my God Manon, girl!” Daniela practically shouted, clearly cheering her friend on. “We gotta know the details like now! What happened after y’all left the club?”
Manon took a breath, deeply inhaling any oxygen she needed right now. She wasn’t going to go into too many details but she wanted them to note some. “Well I was jealous, and then I kinda just said fuck it and told her how I felt.” They all practically leaned in, waiting for her to finish. “Then one thing led to another and we—y’know.” Her head tilted as she said that, getting the girls to understand what she was hinting at, all of them shrieking in awe. They loved that for the both of them, because they wanted ____ and Manon together. They knew Manon was in love, it wasn’t hard to see.
They were going over the details, just talking back and forth between each other. Manon was explaining how ____ was inexperienced before that which made them all soften in a way. They were morally surprised at that fact though, but they found it to be cute. Daniela was being overly dramatic about how she knew that ____ was waiting on Manon because she already basically knew how ____ felt. Basically.
Amidst all the chattering, you walked in. You were holding a tray of coffee, and a big bag of breakfast food for Manon and the rest of the girls. You knew she hadn’t eaten yet and maybe the other girls didn’t either, so you took the liberty to buying them all breakfast. You walked in and saw them all surrounded by the mirror, none of them noticing you. You were walking over to greet them, not knowing what you were in for. You didn’t know if Manon had told them yet or not, so you didn’t want to call her the pet name “baby,” not just yet if she hadn’t told them.
But you figured she did once Megan looked back at you, practically shooting your name with a loud and dramatic, “Look who it is!” That caused them all to turn, but it was Manon who practically ran towards you.
She was so adorable, her happiness being the best part of your day. “Babyyyyyyy!” She shouted, her arms open wide as she pulled you into the biggest hug, you trying to steady yourself and not drop the food. God she knew how to relax every bone in your body. Not that you were stressed or anything, she just made you so happy that almost nothing else mattered. She pulled back briefly to press kisses all over your face, not missing a single inch of skin.
“Hi baby.” You mumbled in between her kissing, her lips going to your cheek, forehead, jaw, lips. Everywhere. In the corner of your eye, you saw the rest of the girls walking over to you both, nothing but big smiles etched across their faces. “Hi—gu—guy!” Your voice was a bit muffled, now that she pressed a big kiss to your lips this time, just before pulling away and wrapping her arms around one of your arms. “I got you all breakfast.” You smiled, holding up the food and drinks. But none of them looked at that. All eyes were on you. You could feel sweat pooling at the nape of your neck, your palms getting sweaty.
“Sooooo, you finally did it huh?” Daniela asked, a teasing tone in her voice.
“And to think that she was your guest is even more crazy. All that time on the road and you’ve like—never?!” Lara was so distraught, of course Manon told them.
You were a bit more nervous to be around them now. “It’s okay ____.” Sophia started, walking a up on you just a little. “I mean, with the tattoo of her name on your neck, the matching rings you both wear, I mean—it was pretty obvious that this was bound to happen.”
You smiled softly, looking over at the beautiful woman who was leaning on your shoulder. She was staring at you so lovingly it made your heart melt. “Just as long as y’all don’t bring that PDA bull crap around us all the time.” Megan sighed. She walked over to you and took the tray of coffee and the bag of food, so casually as she trailed towards a table in the building.
“By the way, I love this for y’all. Y’all look so cute together.” Daniela practically jumped, jogging past you as she lightly nudged you and went towards where Megan was sitting. You already knew you were never going to live this down.
Lara was next to walk by you, “Just as long as you don’t get jealous when we perform M.I.A, then I’m down for this.” Oh, and you might wanna cover up those marks on your neck a little more.”
You chuckled at that, because yes you’ve seen those performances. They were always wild and crazy but at the same time, you weren’t going to make them change their routine just for you. But it was embarrassing with the fact that your neck that was littered in hickeys were on full display. Sophia stood before you, a smile on her face as she reached for a hug, Manon pulling away briefly so she could do so. “We all love you, and we love you for Manon. We know you’ll do right by her, just always keep her happy for us, okay?”
“Of course, Sophia. I love her way too much and—I’m too afraid of you to let you down.” Sophia laughed at that, her hand going to your shoulder and giving it a good squeeze, just before she walked over to where the rest of the girls were. Now it was just you and Manon standing there and when you turned back to her, she leaned forward to place a softer much firmer kiss to your lips. She wrapped her arms lovingly around you, both of you practically melting against one another. “That wasn’t particularly unpleasant.”
Manon pulled away, your hands dropping to her hips with a firm grip still on her. “It was bound to happen. I’m glad it turned out this way though.” Her smile lit up the whole room, your eyes softening more and more. “So what do you think about a hard launch?”
Your eyes went a little wide, her smile only widening. “Like a relationship hard launch or like a—“
She laughed and cut you off, “Yeah, a relationship hard launch, what else?” She had asked you.
“I would love for you to hard launch us. If I’m being honest, I wanted to do it last night but didn’t know what you’d say about that.”
She reached for her phone that was in her pocket, pulling it out and unlocking it. You watched as she scrolled through her apps and tapped on her profile. Instagram. She went to a post, it was a new one. She turned her phone and showed you. “Already has 5 million likes.” She stated, your eyes looking at her phone and seeing it was a photo dump of you and her. It had so many likes and comments and you could see that it was clearly still getting more. “I posted this when I woke up this morning. Hope you don’t mind.”
You gently placed a kiss to her lips, smiling down at her with nothing but love and adoration. “I’m glad you did it. I’m gonna do it too, because I love you so much and need you to know that you’re all I want. I know a post won’t prove that but it’ll prove to the world that you’re my world.”
She couldn’t be more happier. Knowing that the girls were looking at you both, phones out recording, giggling and all. They were happy for you. YOU were happy for you. This was all you needed and no matter what, Manon knew it was you.
It was always you.
—
meretmanon
5.7m Likes
Now you know world. It was always her. @____official ❤️
—
Authors Note — I really enjoyed writing this! I was trying to shorten it up because it was getting waaaaay too long! But I love Manon and can’t help but be so sad with every thing that’s going on. I hope that anyone who read this enjoyed! Requests are open and if you do requests, you can request short fics because this took entirely too long lmao. Thank you!
｡𖦹°‧Sypnosis : A moment of vulnerability brings Sunoo closer to you—but after falling asleep beside you, he wakes up unwilling to let you go.
｡𖦹°‧Pairings : Kim Sunoo x 8thmember!reader
｡𖦹°‧a/n : hello!! Sorry for being inactive again and i have decided that i'm also starting my enhypen content here. 🥹💗
The dorm was unusually quiet that night.
Too quiet.
Even the usual background noise — someone watching videos, faint chatter, footsteps — was gone. Most of the members had already turned in early after a long day.
Except you.
And Sunoo.
You sat on the couch, phone in hand but not really paying attention, your mind somewhere else entirely. The soft glow of the screen lit your face, but your eyes weren’t focused.
You didn’t even notice him at first.
“Hyung.”
You blinked, looking up.
Sunoo was standing by the doorway, hoodie slightly oversized, hair a little messy like he’d been running his hands through it.
“Yeah?” you said.
He hesitated.
Which was already unusual.
“Are you busy?”
You glanced at your phone, then back at him. “…not really. Why?”
Another pause.
Then, quieter—
“Can I stay with you?”
That caught you off guard.
Sunoo wasn’t distant, not at all — he was affectionate, expressive, always around people.
But this?
This felt different.
“Of course,” you said, sitting up a little. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head quickly. “Nothing.”
“…Sunoo.”
“I just don’t want to be alone right now,” he admitted.
That was enough.
You shifted slightly, making space beside you. “Come here.”
He didn’t hesitate this time.
The moment he sat down, you noticed it.
The way he leaned closer than usual.
The way his shoulder pressed lightly against yours.
The way he exhaled — like he’d been holding that breath in for a while.
You didn’t ask anything else.
Not yet.
Instead, you just stayed there.
With him.
Minutes passed.
Maybe more.
The room stayed quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
Just calm.
“…hyung,” Sunoo murmured.
“Hmm?”
“Do you ever feel like… everything’s too much?”
You glanced at him.
His gaze was down, fingers lightly fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie.
“Yeah,” you said honestly. “Sometimes.”
He nodded slightly, like he expected that answer.
“I hate that feeling,” he said. “Like even when nothing’s wrong, it still feels heavy.”
You didn’t interrupt.
“I was fine earlier,” he continued. “Laughing, talking… everything normal.”
He paused.
“Then suddenly I wasn’t.”
Your expression softened.
“That happens,” you said quietly.
“I know,” he replied. “I just… don’t like dealing with it alone.”
There it was.
Not dramatic.
Not loud.
Just honest.
You shifted slightly, turning toward him more.
“You don’t have to,” you said.
He looked up at you then.
“Not with me,” you added.
For a second, he just stared.
Then something in his expression eased.
“…okay.”
Another quiet moment passed.
Then, slowly, Sunoo leaned in—
Resting his head against your shoulder.
Careful at first.
Like he wasn’t sure if it was okay.
You didn’t move away.
Instead, you adjusted slightly to make it more comfortable for him.
That was all the confirmation he needed.
His weight settled more naturally against you.
“You’re warm,” he mumbled.
You huffed a small laugh. “That’s your takeaway?”
“Yeah.”
“Not my amazing emotional support skills?”
“No,” he said, voice softer now. “Just warm.”
You shook your head, smiling.
But your hand came up anyway, resting lightly against his arm.
And he relaxed even more.
Time passed without either of you noticing.
Sunoo got quieter.
His breathing slower.
More even.
“…hyung,” he murmured again, barely above a whisper.
“Yeah?”
“Stay until I fall asleep.”
You glanced down at him.
His eyes were half-lidded now, clearly tired.
“You’re going to sleep here?” you asked.
“Maybe,” he mumbled. “Don’t move.”
You smiled softly.
“I won’t.”
A few minutes later—
He was asleep.
Completely.
Still leaning against you, head on your shoulder, hand loosely gripping your sleeve like he didn’t want you to disappear.
You looked down at him for a moment.
At how peaceful he looked now.
So different from earlier.
So much lighter.
“…you really don’t like being alone, huh,” you whispered.
No response.
Just steady breathing.
You adjusted slightly, careful not to wake him, letting him rest more comfortably against you.
And even as your arm started to go a little numb—
You didn’t move.
Because he asked you to stay.
And you always would.
Sunlight was the first thing that hit you.
Warm.
Annoyingly bright.
You squinted, shifting slightly—
And immediately froze.
Right.
Sunoo.
Still asleep.
Still leaning against you.
Except now, he was way closer than before.
At some point during the night, he had shifted completely—his head now resting more comfortably against your chest, one arm loosely wrapped around your side like he unconsciously decided you were a pillow.
You looked down at him.
His hair was slightly messy, lips parted just a little, breathing slow and even.
Still completely asleep.
“…you didn’t even try to move, huh,” you muttered quietly.
Not that you had, either.
Your arm was definitely numb now.
But that wasn’t the point.
You carefully tried to adjust—
Big mistake.
Sunoo immediately reacted.
His grip tightened slightly, brows furrowing as he mumbled something incoherent.
“…hyung… don’t…”
You froze again.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you said softly.
That seemed to do it.
His expression relaxed almost instantly, grip loosening just enough—but not letting go.
You sighed quietly, giving up on moving.
“Guess I’m stuck here,” you murmured.
“Whoa.”
You both didn’t hear the door open.
But you definitely heard that.
You looked up.
Jungwon.
Standing there.
Staring.
Right at the two of you.
There was a pause.
A long one.
“…am I interrupting something?” Jungwon asked slowly.
You blinked. “It’s not what it looks like.”
Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “It looks like Sunoo hyung is cuddling you.”
“That’s—he fell asleep,” you said.
“On you.”
“…yes.”
“While holding you.”
“…yes.”
Jungwon nodded.
“Okay.”
Another pause.
Then—
“Should I take a picture?”
“Don’t you dare.”
Sunoo stirred slightly at the voices, shifting again—
Which only made things worse.
He leaned in closer, face now practically buried against you, one hand gripping your shirt like he really didn’t want to let go.
Jungwon let out a quiet laugh.
“Oh, this is bad,” he said.
“Jungwon,” you warned.
“He’s not letting you go, is he?”
“No.”
“Wow.”
“…what’s going on?”
A new voice.
You turned your head.
Heeseung.
Now also standing there.
Looking.
Processing.
Then—
“Oh.”
“This is not—” you started.
“Hyung,” Jungwon cut in, grinning slightly, “you’ve been replaced.”
“I have not—”
“Sunoo hyung looks pretty comfortable.”
“He is comfortable,” you said. “That’s the problem.”
Sunoo shifted again, blinking slowly as he started waking up.
“…mm…”
His eyes opened halfway.
Unfocused at first.
Then—
He realized.
He was still holding onto you.
Very close.
With two members watching.
There was a pause.
Then he closed his eyes again.
“…nope.”
You stared at him. “Sunoo.”
“I’m still sleeping,” he mumbled.
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“You’re talking.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
Jungwon snorted.
“He’s embarrassed.”
“I’m not,” Sunoo said immediately—while still not moving.
“Then let go of hyung.”
“…no.”
That was fast.
You couldn’t help it—you laughed.
“Sunoo…”
“Hyung said he’d stay,” he mumbled, tightening his hold slightly. “So stay.”
Jungwon looked between the two of you.
“Oh, he’s serious.”
Heeseung leaned against the doorframe, amused. “Should we leave them?”
“No,” Jungwon said. “This is too interesting.”
“Jungwon.”
“Yes, hyung?”
“Out.”
He grinned. “Fine, fine.”
As they started to leave, Jungwon glanced back one last time.
“Hyung,” he added casually, “you’re definitely his favorite.”
The door closed before you could respond.
Silence again.
Finally.
You looked down at Sunoo.
“…you’re not getting up, are you?”
“No.”
“You’re awake.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
You sighed, but there was no real annoyance in it.
“Sunoo.”
He tilted his head slightly, just enough to look up at you.
“…what?”
“You’re clingy.”
“Only to you.”
That—
That made your chest tighten a little.
You looked away for a second, trying to hide your smile.
“…fine,” you said. “Five more minutes.”
Sunoo smiled softly.
“…make it ten.”
“You’re pushing it.”
“…hyung.”
You sighed.
“…ten.”
He relaxed instantly again, settling back against you like he had all the time in the world.
I just wanna suck on her boobs so bad it's actually making me insane... like I see her and my brain just goes "MILKY MILKY MILKY" like I'm a starving infant who hasn't eaten in days... my mouth starts watering and I start making these weird honking noises... HONK HONK HONK... my primal caveman brain takes over and I just want to grab those big mommy milkers and never let go... like I don't even care about anything else in life anymore... just give me the titty... please... I'm begging... I'll be good mommy I promise... just one little sip... I'm down here on my knees begging for those nourishing udders... MILKY TIME MILKY TIME MILKY TIME... I'm losing my mind... I need them... I need them now... HONK HONK HONK... ALL ABOARD THE TITTY EXPRESS... CHOO CHOO... coming through with my mouth open... please... just let me suck on them... that's all I want in life... just the boobies... nothing else matters... MILKY MILKY MILKY... I'm going crazy... I can't stop thinking about them... day and night... night and day... please... pretty please... with sugar on top... let me suck on your boobs... I'll do anything... I'll be your pet... I'll wash your car... I'll do your taxes... just please... MILKY MILKY MILKY... I'm losing what's left of my sanity... HONK HONK HONK... the titty monster has consumed me completely... send help... or better yet... send titties... MILKY MILKY MILKY... I'm done... I'm finished... I'm completely broken by the boobies... help...
synopsis: after a long day spent with your family, sophia and isabella, it’s only normal for your wife to ask for a little loving as well. but what if she asks for another thing? is it finally time for another baby?
a/n: please bear with me. i haven’t written anything in five years, english is not my first language, and i don’t know how to write smut. not proofread!
“I missed you, mahal…” Sophia gently murmurs against your skin, placing gentle and sloppy kisses against your clavicle. “I missed you so so… much” Trailing her words along with her breathy whisper, you can’t help but grip her shirt. To this day, you cannot imagine what you did to deserve this beautiful girl.
Your ever so loving wife, who has filled your heart with nothing but absolute warmth, never fails to make you feel cherished and cared for despite her busy schedule. Nothing seems to be impossible with her, for she always finds a way for you. Her love. Her liege. Her deity.
Her gentle fingers press against your skin, thumb drawing little circles on your stomach.
“Don’t you miss me, too? Magtatampo ako nito sa iyo, mahal…” You didn’t have to look at her to know that she was sulking, obviously very needy. Her lips that were pressing kisses to your skin had already formed a pout.
Smiling softly, you giggle before pulling away. “And when did I not miss you, Mrs. Laforteza?” your words paint a small smile on her lips, staining her cheeks with a light tinge of pink, perfectly blending with her mestiza skin tone.
“Well, you’re not giving me any attention. I’ve been so occupied with practice, don’t you think I deserve a little loving as well? Isa’s already asleep anyway.” from her tone alone, you cannot help but roll your eyes, obviously understanding the glint of mischievousness in your wife’s eyes.
Isabella, your one year old daughter, is Sophia’s twin. Upon laying your eyes on her at her birth, still high from the anesthesia, you scoffed and joked that you did all the hard work only for your baby to look like her. Sophia didn’t speak, too focused on crying while kissing both your foreheads. It was certainly an endearing sight to see, and now that your baby is finally a year old, you can proudly say that your wife has never been hotter than with a baby in her arms.
“Hm? What kind of loving do you need, Phi?” You ask, raising your eyebrow at her. A small smirk forms on her pretty lips, the ones you can never get tired of, the softness, the plump feeling of her lips next to yours, is addictive.
“Alam mo ang kailangan ko, mahal…” Hands find the way on the hem of your top, gently tugging on it. “And you know… Isa’s getting quite big. Ayaw mo pa bang sundan?” Her tone was laced with gentleness, care evident in her eyes. Sophia has never been a pushy person. A single glimpse of discomfort from you was all she needed to stop pressing on a certain topic, but you can see how much your wife wants another baby. She’s been trying to bring this up lately, but you haven’t had enough time to talk about it.
Looking back, your wife has nothing but an amazing wife and mom. You could never be happier. And besides, she looks hot while carrying Isa. It makes you think to yourself, don’t you think she deserves more than a few i love you’s? You guys are stable, what hurt could it do?
“Phia, I think I’m ready..”
“Hm? Mind telling me more, baby?”
“I…” You take a deep breath, her hand finding yours to gently hold it. She gives it a gentle squeeze, assuring you that it’s okay to tell her whatever’s on your mind, a habit she’s had since you first started dating.
The sound of the air conditioner runs throughout the room, momentarily putting up with the comfortable silence you’re both in. The feeling of Sophia’s warm thumb caressing your skin along with the soft look in her eyes is all it takes for you to finally make up your mind. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “Mahal, I think I’m finally ready to have another baby.”
Sophia stares into your eyes for a few seconds, not fully taking it in. You hold in your breath, afraid of what she might reply. After a few more seconds of silence and your nerves eating you up, her eyes widen and a tiny gasp leaves her lips. A tiny squeal erupts before you’re thrown in bed, your wife peppering kisses all over your face.
“Thank you… thank you, sinta.” Her voice was firm, clearly showing the weight of this conversation to her. Still, it didn’t conceal the happiness underlying her words. She looks so pretty like this. On top of you, breathing unsteady, and eyes clearly showing love and thrill.
“You’re the best gift I’ve ever received, you, our daughter, and our future babies.” With this, she pulls you in for a kiss. Her warm lips capture yours, a tingling feeling down your veins. You’ve been married for years, but her kisses remain the same: loving, gentle, and soft yet hungry.
Her tongue fights for dominance with yours, her hand effortlessly slips in her shirt you’re wearing, fingers smoothly unclasping your bra. Her kisses travel to your jaw, moving down your neck, her kisses growing sloppier.
The warm hand that held you earlier has now turned cold, making you flinch when she gropes your breast. The soft moan that this elicits from you makes Sophia groan. She grinds her hips against you, making you feel her bulge. “Nararamdaman mo ba, mahal? This is your effect on me. Binabaliw mo ‘ko…” She whispers seductively, her voice husky yet sweet, only adding to the intense need you’re feeling. “Don’t you think this deserves some attention, too?”
You roll your eyes, pulling away from her before flipping her on the bed, making you on top of her. She excitedly takes off her shirt, exposing her beautiful breasts, and her abs that you love riding. Your eyes trail down to her little rib tattoo that drives you insane, only her whimper snaps you out of your thoughts.
“Bilis, mahal.” Sophia demands impatiently, making you raise your eyebrow. Your slight glare makes her cower in fear, her expression clearly shows her regret. Sophia may be a tough leader, but who knew that she was just this needy puppy in bed?
You signal her to lift her hips to which she does, taking off her boxers. The sight of her cock makes you bite your lip. Kneeling down in between her legs, you take her heavy shaft in one hand, her pretty pink dick feels both heavy and warm, making the wetness in your panties worse.
Looking at her with those big doe eyes that she loves, you take an experimental lick on the underside of her cock making her moan out. Her thighs contract, little beads of sweat forming on her forehead. It takes everything in you to not ride her then and there. You give her a tiny wink before taking the pretty head in your mouth.
Sophia twitches, her hand now clasps on her mouth, not wanting to wake up your daughter and ruin your time together. You just wish you could hear her sweet moans and that she didn’t have to hold back. Your wife’s vocalness about the pleasure you give her definitely drives you insane every time.
Your saliva missing with her pre-cum makes everything wetter, you bob your head up and down, alternating between stroking what you can’t take and sucking. You can feel her heavy meat twitching against your tongue. You force yourself to take all of her in your pretty mouth, doe eyes brimming with tears while looking at her. “M..mahal, tangina, you’re taking me s-so well. Such a pretty girl for me…”
Her hand moves to your head, fingers tangling with your soft hair. Knowing that Sophia was getting close, you pull away, making her flinch and cry out, looking at you with eyes, showing you just how pathetic she is for your mouth. “Baby, please? I’m close…” The sight of her whimpering makes you want to jump her.
Slapping her heavy and wet cock on your cheek, you place a gentle kiss on the tip, clearly catching Sophia’s twitch, before taking off your remaining clothes and settling yourself down on her lap. You let out a soft moan when her hands grip your waist while she grinds her on your wet pussy.
“Take me, Phia…”
“Fucking slut. You act all mighty but you’re nothing but a bitch.” Your denial clearly made her upset, but you only give her a small smile, clearly taunting her. “Then show me that you deserve me.” You say, gripping her cheek.
You have no time to react when Sophia suddenly enters you. A quiet gasp escapes your lips, not used to her thickness because it’s been a while. Sophia starts with gentle, needy thrusts before gripping your waist and going rougher, faster.
Noticing how loud you were getting, she shuts you up with a kiss. Her plump lips on yours, tongue inside your mouth, and her bruising grip on your waist makes you see the stars. She bites your lower lip before her mouth finds your breast, sucking on your nipple like a needy baby. “T-there, Phia. Fuck, you’re such a good girl for mommy, aren’t you?”
When she feels you start to clench around her, she brings her hand to your wet pussy to draw random circles on your clit which makes you throw your head back. With one final thrust, you feel her warm cum fill you up. She pulls away from your chest, looking at you with her pretty puppy eyes before placing soft and wet kisses on your sweaty neck while she continues to fill you up with her hot, thick jets of cum. “So good for me… but kailangan pa kitang buntisin, hindi ba?”
Looking at her in the eyes, “Well, what are you waiting for?” Flipping you onto your back, she looks at you with a smirk. It’s going to be a long night.
God, you can’t wait to give this woman all the babies she wants.
You couldn’t think, couldn’t listen to any lesson, couldn’t focus. All that occupied your mind was how Sophia had tasted on your tongue, how her fingers gripped your hair, how her praise made it so hard not to cum.
Every-time you saw her walk through the hallways with her group of friends, she’d wink at you, even pointing as she mouthed ‘mine.’ That forced you to go to the bathroom to control yourself.
You were on your way to the front door when you felt a hand wrap around your arm, yanking you back into a warm body. Sophia’s strong, intoxicating perfume filled your senses, forcing your knees to buckle and a moan almost slip from your lips. God you were pathetic.
“Car, now.” Was all she said, her hand never leaving your arm as she pushed the doors open. The warmth of her hand made your cock twitch in your jeans, forcing you to adjust your belt. You both arrived to her white BMW that was gleaming in the school parking lot.
Sophia ripped the door open and pushed you into the backseat, getting in behind you and slamming the door shut.
“Shirt off.”
You stammered, your hands falling to the hem of your shirt. Sophia watched hungrily, already moving to straddle her lap as she leaned down, her lips brushing against yours.
“I missed you so bad, nerd,” she whispered, “you made me so fucking wet…” her hips connected with yours, smiling as you moaned when you felt the wet patch of her underwear. You watched as Sophia's hips rolled against your bulge, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as a moan escaped her mouth.
Your hands found her hips, squeezing the soft skin as you directed her movements. Sophia either didn't notice or didn't care, considering how much she was moving. Your body was too warm even without the shirt, the windows becoming foggy with condensation. That seemed to make you remember you were in a damn parking lot.
In broad daylight.
In school.
You opened your mouth to remind her but Sophia's lips found yours, pressing deep as her hands found your neck and morphed her body against yours. The heat was so overwhelming the thought was erased from your mind. You thrusted into her, getting a surprise yelp from her. Sophia broke apart, keeping her hands around the sides of your neck as she shook her head.
"You don't get to do that." she gasped. You were barely given time to apologize before her hips rolled once again, her clit rubbing against your zipper. She let out a louder moan, the noise filling your ears like a melody as you watched her. You wanted to lean up and lick the sweat off her neck yourself but her thumbs had found purchase on either side of your throat. She squeezed, cutting your airways off.
"That's it..." Sophia moaned, "that's my girl..." She continued to roll her hips while watching how your red face only became redder with the lack of oxygen. Power surged through Sophia's veins, making her smile as she watched your half lidded eyes.
"Sophia..." You whispered weakly. Sophia only tightened her grip. Your hands flew to her wrists, but not to take them off, rather to hold on for dear life. Your cock throbbed painfully with each shuddering attempt for air, already seeing the spots dotting your vision. Sophia leaned directly over you, her hand momentarily wiping the drool off your mouth that you hadn't even registered before putting it back.
"So pretty for me baby." She moaned, her hips moving faster. You had to pray she didn't get too loud, or the car was moving too much, or you passed out. Too many possibilities of how this could go wrong fueled your mind. And yet this was the most exhilarating feeling you had ever felt in your life.
"Le--Let me cum...Please..." You choked out hoarsely. Sophia's eyes met yours in consideration. Each second she used to think about the possibilities drove you mad, with your cock straining against your zipper. It was only worse when you felt her wetness stain it. Sophia let out another moan.
"N-not yet!" She groaned loudly. You whined but reluctantly accepted. Sweat pooled on your temples, sliding down your neck and onto the seat. It made you viscerally aware of the sleek leather under your bodies that are probably going to be ruined by your sweat and other liquids.
Your arousal overweighed the guilt as your eyes rolled to the back of your head upon feeling Sophia’s nails dig into your throat. The feeling was something you never felt before, but it made your cock beg for mercy, still in the confines of your zipper.
Your spring was going to snap any minute now, you could feel it. Sophia must have felt it too because she let go of your throat, sliding her hands down your chest and squeezing the bra. You loudly gasped, finally allowed to catch your breath as you watched Sophia with hazy eyes.
"You look so damn pretty," She laughed breathlessly, "so fucking pretty. Your cock feels so good."
You moaned louder at her praise, your face flushing at just how easily it affected you. Fuck, you needed to be inside of her if it was the last damn thing you ever did. You grabbed her hips in hopes it would entice her, but Sophia shook her head.
"No." She snickered at your whine, still obsessively rolling her hips until its was unbearable. She looked you in the eye, her hands sliding to your jaw.
"I'm gonna--fuck mahal, 'm so damn close..." She whimpered breathlessly, to which you wordlessly agreed with a shaky nod. The bottom of your stomach was so hot you couldn't even register it in your mind, desperate for any release. Your hips rubbed with hers in tandem, forcing louder moans to fill the car. Sophia leaned down, catching your lips into a needy kiss as her orgasm finally washed over her.
You swallowed her moans, your hands digging into her pale thighs as you came with her, the front of your pants completely soaked in both of your fluids. Sophia was panting against your lips, holding onto your face for dear life as she lazily blinked at you. Once you met her eye, she smiled, lazy and confident as always--typical for Sophia Laforteza.
"Wow," she breathlessly laughed, "I should fuck nerds more often."
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.
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.
