dazedhee

[dazedhee]

YOUR TURN — hyung line

YOUR TURN — 1. A phrase used in a gangbang to tell the next person waiting that it’s time for them to step in and get involved. 2. A slut’s opportunity—the moment when it is finally her chance to act, indulge, and surrender herself after others have already taken theirs. The phrase emphasizes delayed gratification, where the receiver eagerly awaits her turn to be used or to participate after hearing others go before her.

content tags/warnings: hyung line x reader, reader is horny and desperate, men are assholes, inspired by the show series euphoria. explicit content (smut): porn with no plot at all, gangbang, face fucking, facials, nipple play, fingering, oral fixation, unprotected sex, degrading language, pet names (baby, sweetheart, darling etc), double penetration, protected anal sex, slapping, hentai like expressions, handjob, overstimulation, tits fucking, squirting, lack of verbal consent in some scenes, choking, pain play, creampie, this is straight up porn but have a potential romance at the end. lmk if i missed something. WC: 17.2K

It wasn't like you were some kind of slut, right?

Who were you kidding? Any girl with a working pussy would drool if she stood close enough to those four men. Not just because of their looks, not just because of the sharp edges of their jawlines or the way their eyes seemed to strip people down without touching them, but because how they confidently carried themselves. Their scent. That mix of cologne and sweat that made your throat dry the second they passed by. It wasn't normal, not the way your body reacted. Not the way your thighs pressed together when you thought of them. But you kept telling yourself it was. It had to be.

Lee Heeseung, Park Jongseong, Sim Jaeyun, and Park Sunghoon. 

Four names that rang louder than any lecture in your university halls. Four names whispered in bathrooms, shouted across freedom walls, written down in anonymous confessions like some fucking campus legends. Everyone knew them. Everyone wanted them. And everyone, at least once, wondered what it would be like to be touched by them.

People pretended to sneer at their lives, at the rumors tied around them, but the truth always leaked through—envy, hunger, the kind of desperate need nobody wanted to admit out loud. Because deep down, every damn rumor about them only made them more untouchable, more godlike.

And then there was that one rumor. The one that tore through the university like wildfire.

The gangbang story.

The most scandalous, dirtiest thing anyone had ever whispered, and yet nobody could stop talking about it.

Nobody could prove it. Nobody knew if it was just a story made up by someone bored, but fuck, if it had been real... if it had been real, then you weren't sure what was worse. The fact that people called it disgusting or the fact that it made your whole body clench with jealousy.

How fucking scandalous. How fucking disgusting.

And how fucking pathetic that every time you thought about it, your chest got tight, your mouth went dry, and all you could think was: if that rumor had ever been true, if those four had ever taken a girl like that, then why the fuck wasn't it you?

"Someone caught Jake making out with a girl from Tourism!"

"Someone said Sunghoon's been fucking that sophomore from another building!"

"Have you heard that Jay is smoking at the back of the building while the TA sucks him off? Geez, what a lucky girl."

"And that cheerleader said Heeseung likes girls who can spread their legs wide!"

Your hands gripped your pen tighter, knuckles turning pale, jaw clenched as the chatter bled into your ears. Every fucking sentence was the same—different girls, different places, different dirty details—but the same four names, always the same four names. It was exhausting, it was maddening, and it was starting to chew holes into your focus.

"Stop it," you hissed finally, snapping your head up to face the group of girls clustered near the corner. "There are people here who are trying to study. Maybe try doing that instead of running your mouths about men and their sex lives. Do you have no shame?"

The table went quiet, their smirks twitching as they shared quick glances between themselves. One girl rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath, but none of them pushed back. They just leaned back into their seats, whispering low but not low enough, as if they wanted you to hear every giggle, every stifled laugh.

You tried to turn back to your notes, but your pulse wouldn't settle. You're not annoyed that they were gossipping.

You were jealous.

Jealous that every rumor had someone else's name attached to it. Jealous that every filthy story, every detail, every moan that lived in their words belonged to another girl and not to you.

Fuck! It's unfair! It's so unfair! Why was it always someone else? Why did it have to be another girl they kissed, another girl they bent over, another girl who got to hear their voices from fucking?

You exhaled sharply through your nose, trying to drown it out, trying to stay steady. But every word of theirs came back to the same thing. Their dicks. Their moans. Their fucking. And all it did was remind you that you hadn't had a single taste of any of it, not even once.

Fuck it. When was it supposed to be your turn?

You tried. God, you fucking tried. You started dragging yourself to every fraternity party you caught wind of, even ones you had no business going to, all in hopes of catching just one of their eyes. You would push through sweaty bodies and strobe lights, pretending to dance, pretending to laugh, only to learn that Jay had already gotten bored and left long before you even stepped in. The disappointment would choke you, but you still kept showing up. 

Like some desperate puppy waiting for scraps.

You started waxing everything, every inch of your body, until your skin burned. You bought bottles of expensive perfume you couldn't even afford, ones that clung to your clothes and hair until it made you dizzy. You thought maybe, they liked girls who smelled clean, who looked like they had their shit together, but deep down you knew it didn't matter. Because how would they ever notice when you didn't even have the guts to open your mouth?

"Uh... do you know, like, how to talk to Heeseung?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual while your eyes betrayed you, glued to the tall figure across the library.

He was sliding books off a shelf, completely unaware of the way your whole body went tense, your throat dry, your palms slick with sweat. Even from a distance you swore you could smell him, that same maddening warmth that clung to him whenever he walked past.

Your friend blinked, eyebrows raised as though she couldn't believe the words had actually come out of your mouth. "About what? You know damn well he doesn't talk to girls in public. People only talk about how he fucks them hard and then disappears. No contact. Nothing. Ever." She scoffed, dismissing it with a wave of her hand, before her gaze sharpened on you. A smirk tugged at her lips and she let out a loud laugh that made your ears burn. "Wait. Don't tell me you're actually planning something. You think you're gonna get him to fuck you?"

Her laughter made your eye twitch. You felt her gaze scan over you, up and down, picking apart everything you were, everything you weren't. She reached over, patting your shoulder in a way that only made you feel smaller.

"It's okay to dream big," she said, lips curving into a cruel little smile, "but let me shatter that for you. He would never, okay? Hmm?"

Something in your chest snapped at her words. Anger rose, clinging to your ribs until you thought you'd choke on it. How fucking dare she? How dare she look at you like that, laugh at you like you weren't even worth a second glance? How high did she think of herself, how low did she think of you?

But you swallowed it, burying the sharpness down where no one could see. You curved your lips into a laugh that sounded almost real, almost lighthearted, even though your nails dug into your palm under the table. "Silly you," you said sweetly, tilting your head like it didn't sting, "I was just trying to interview him for sports journalism. Don't get too talkative about fucking, though. It sounds like you're reflecting your own frustrations."

You smiled brighter, watching her expression falter for just a second before she scoffed again and turned back to her notes.

You needed to think. You needed to dig deeper into yourself, to find a way, any way, because you refused to lose. You refused to accept being invisible.

Every single morning became a routine.

You would drag yourself out of bed before the sun even touched the sky, forcing your heavy eyes open as you stood in front of the mirror. You styled your hair until not a single strand was out of place, you layered makeup carefully until your reflection looked like someone worth noticing, and you scrubbed your skin until it stung, until it shone smooth under your fingertips. Your closet was picked apart daily, clothes scattered across your floor, until you found the outfit that made you feel like you could walk down the hall with your head high, like you were worth a second glance.

And every time, when the clock struck the hour you knew they would be walking down the hallway, you stood ready. Shoulders straight, steps measured, chest tight with nerves as you waited for them to pass. You tried to look effortless, confident, perfect. But it shattered you every single time when none of them looked your way. Their eyes stayed forward, their voices low between themselves, their expressions unchanged as if you were nothing more than air. Your hands would grow limp at your sides, your confidence bleeding out of you as you glanced behind your shoulder, mouth parted slightly, helplessly staring at their broad shoulders moving further and further away from you.

The frustration followed you. At night, you laid in bed with their faces behind your eyelids, your thighs pressed together until you couldn't stand it anymore.

You touched yourself with the thought of them, not just one but all four, surrounding you, using you, making you theirs in every filthy way you had imagined. You came undone to fantasies of their hands pulling your hair, their voices groaning against your ear, your body stretched thin for them, and the pleasure left you gasping, sweating, shaking in the dark. Yet as soon as it ended, as soon as your heartbeat slowed, you already hated yourself. Because no matter how hard you wanted it, morning would come again, and the cycle would repeat. You'd wake up early, fix yourself to perfection, pass them in the hallway, and watch them ignore you.

The days blurred into each other, but the whispers always found you. Another rumor spread like fire, another story about them with another girl, and it burned you alive from the inside.

You wanted to scream at how unfair it was, how humiliating it felt that you couldn't stop aching for something you might never get. Sometimes you almost laughed at yourself, at how pathetic you must have looked, stuck between jealousy and desperation, unable to let go.

"Wow, what perfume do you use? You smell so good!" Your classmate's voice cut through your thoughts one day, her hand brushing casually across your arm. "And your lotion too? Your skin feels amazing."

The touch startled you, and the question almost made you snap. "It's just Victoria's Secret," you hissed automatically, jerking your hand slightly to free yourself. But the moment you saw her surprised face, you realized what you had done, and quickly masked it with a sweet smile. "Sorry, I'm in a bad mood, forgive me? It's Velvet Petals. But I exfoliate with Dove first. That's probably why."

Her lips curved into a bright smile, her eyes scanning you with something almost admiring. "It's okay! You look really, really, really pretty, you know? And you're so sweet. I just hope you don't fall into the wrong hands."

The way she said it made your stomach twist. You knew exactly who she was talking about, and the mocking tone in her voice when she mentioned "wrong hands" made it worse. Those fuckboys. That's what they all called them, as if the four of them weren't the most wanted men on campus, as if everyone's mouths didn't water at the thought of being ruined by them.

You held your smile, but inside, the anger returned, pulsing hotter than before. They all thought they were above you. They all thought they could talk about them like that and laugh at you for wanting something they secretly wanted too. They were liars, hypocrites, hiding their hunger under judgment while you carried yours openly in your chest.

You pressed your lips together, leaning closer to her so your words came out soft, almost playful. "Maybe falling into the wrong hands isn't always such a bad thing."

Her eyes widened slightly, confusion flickering across her face as you sat back again, smiling politely like nothing had happened.

But in your head, the thought echoed, louder, heavier, filthier.

If those hands were theirs, you would fall gladly.

The party was dragging, the music pounding but lifeless, the people are drunk but boring. You wondered for the tenth time why you even bothered showing up.

The whole campus had been buzzing about this night, everyone whispering about how it would be wild because they would be here. But the most boring part of it all was exactly that—they weren't.

No sign of the four men everyone was expecting. And for that, you hated yourself a little. You hated that you had wasted another expensive outfit, another spritz of your favorite perfume, another hour in front of the mirror just to sit there and look pretty for nothing.

Your cheek rested lazily against your hand as you swirled the watered-down alcohol in your glass. Your eyes lingered on the girl across the room, perched on the couch, laughing with a group of guys who had crowded her like she was the crown jewel of the night. She looked so damn proud of herself, flipping her hair and soaking up their attention like it was worth something.

You almost felt bad for her—because those men? God, they were fucking ugly. The kind of guys who had nothing going for them except being loud and drunk enough to fill her space. And she was pretty, too pretty for the trash sitting beside her, too wasted to notice she could do better.

You sighed, your eyes dropping back down to your glass, watching the last pieces of ice melt into nothing. Maybe you should leave. Maybe you should give up, call it another wasted night, drag yourself back to bed where you could rot under the covers and imagine what it would feel like if the four men ever actually noticed you.

"Hi."

The single word pierced through the noise around you. Your breath caught, and you nearly threw your glass across the table. Your back went ramrod straight as you turned, your heart slamming against your ribs so hard it hurt. When your eyes landed on the figures behind you, everything inside of you went still before spiraling into chaos.

Jake. Sunghoon.

Two of them. Standing there. Talking. To you.

Your throat closed, your tongue heavy, your thoughts shattering into broken pieces as if the universe had finally played its sick joke on you. What the fuck was happening? Jake and Sunghoon—out of everyone in this crowded room—were standing in front of you, looking at you, waiting for you.

"H-Hi?" The word slipped out, so small, so shaky you almost cringed at yourself.

Jake's smile spread, his gaze running over you like he was unwrapping you with his eyes. He didn't hide the way he lingered on the pink silk dress clinging to your body or the way his eyes glinted when he caught the gems glittering delicately across your skin. The weight of his stare made your thighs press together without you even thinking about it.

"Where's your friends?" He shifted his hands casually into his pockets, flashing a smile. "I organized this party, you know. I almost felt bad seeing you sitting here alone."

You swallowed hard, the words tangling on your tongue. This was the moment you'd been waiting for, the one you had begged for, dreamed of, touched yourself over. And yet, your body betrayed you, trembling as you almost flinched under the weight of their presence.

"M-My friends a-are... uh... there." Your shaky hand lifted, pointing weakly toward the dance floor, and the second you did it you wanted to melt into the floor and disappear.

Sunghoon's low laugh broke the air. He leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes fixed on you as if he could see straight through every flimsy layer of composure you were trying to hold together. "And they exclude you? What bad friends you have."

The closeness of him made your brain dissolve. His perfume, his cologne, the sharp tang of alcohol still lingering on his lips—God, you wanted to taste it, to drown in it. He didn't even touch you, but his nearness was enough to make your body tense, your lips parting before you realized it.

"Want to join us?" Sunghoon asked smoothly.

"W-Where?" you squeaked.

"Well, we can drink outside—" Sunghoon started, but Jake cut him off with a voice that left no room for argument.

"At Heeseung's private room." His tone was steady, certain, his stare locked on you, waiting for your reaction.

For a split second, Sunghoon's eyes widened at Jake's bluntness. You caught the quick glance he shot him, an unspoken message passing between them, before his smirk slid back into place. He didn't need to argue. He didn't need to say a thing. Because the moment the words "Heeseung's private room" left Jake's mouth, your body had already betrayed you.

Your lips trembled, your voice breaking into a whisper. "Yes."

And there it was—the one word that sealed everything.

Jake's smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he tilted his head ever so slightly, studying you like you had just handed yourself over. Sunghoon's grin widened, his teeth flashing as he straightened up, amusement flickering in his gaze.

"Good girl," Jake murmured under his breath.

Your chest tightened, your breath caught, and every ounce of you screamed that this was it. The moment you had been waiting for, the moment you had dreamed of, the moment you could never come back from.

And you didn't fucking care.

The door creaked open and Heeseung froze at the threshold, his tall frame stiffening instantly as his eyes landed on the scene.

Jake had one hand tangled in your hair, his cock buried between your lips, his head thrown back as he groaned through clenched teeth. Sunghoon was draped across your back, his chest pressing heavily against you, his hand pinching and rolling your nipples mercilessly while his lips brushed your skin, leaving icy trails that made you shiver.

Your body was positioned like some offering—hands and knees spread like a cat, ass swaying slightly with every thrust of Jake's hips.

"Seriously?" Heeseung's voice was carrying irritation. He shut the door with a sharp click, though he didn't walk away.

The noise made you whimper, muffled around Jake's cock, the vibration of your moan sending shudders up his spine. Jake gritted his teeth and hissed through a laugh, thrusting harder until the blunt head of his dick slammed against the back of your throat. He held you there with one firm grip in your hair, pushing until your nose bumped against the hard plane of his stomach. Your eyes watered, your chest heaved, but the desperation inside you drowned out every thought of resistance.

It hadn't started like this. At first, it was only drinks, games, laughter and teasing, until Jake leaned forward and suggested body shots. You hadn't even hesitated; the heat of their attention had already melted through you, and Jake had almost laughed at how quickly you had fallen into their hands. And now, here you were, drooling and choking on his cock while Sunghoon twisted your nipples until your whole body jerked with every pinch.

"Your favorite member is here," Jake taunted, his gaze dropping down to you, then flicking toward the figure standing silently by the door. His smirk widened as he forced another thrust into your mouth. "Bro, she's been asking where the fuck you were. You took so long, she already came in her panties just from Sunghoon teasing her tits."

Heat shot through your face as the humiliation wrapped around you. Tears streamed freely down your cheeks, staining the gems near your eyes, but none of it stopped you from flattening your tongue against the base of his cock, licking every inch you could reach while your throat spasmed around him. The shame twisted into a  darker, sharper, more intoxicating feeling than you ever imagined.

This was it. This was the dream. The one you'd fucked yourself to in silence night after night, the one you had burned for. And now you were living it, choking, moaning, tears streaking your face, every filthy detail of it everything you had ever wanted.

You couldn't see Heeseung clearly from where you knelt, but you felt him. His gaze was heavy, dragging over you, making your pussy clench at nothing. You knew he was watching the way your lips stretched around Jake's cock, the way your chest heaved as Sunghoon tortured your nipples, the way you looked so fucked out and desperate already.

"The rumors about us are already spreading, and you have the guts to do this?" Heeseung's voice finally cut through with restrained anger. He stepped closer, his shoes quiet against the floor until his shadow stretched across you. You could feel his eyes on your crying, messy face, and it only made your cunt throb harder, soaking your panties.

Jake laughed through a groan, his hips grinding against your lips as his cock slid deeper. Sunghoon joined him with a low chuckle, his cold mouth pressing into your nape as his fingers tugged the straps of your dress down your shoulders. The silk slipped easily, baring your chest fully to Heeseung's view, your nipples stiff and swollen as Sunghoon's thumb and finger rolled them until you moaned around Jake's length.

"Come on," Sunghoon murmured against your ear, his voice is taunting. "You know we always love sharing." His lips traced your skin as his hand pushed your dress lower, exposing more, leaving nothing for modesty.

Heeseung's jaw tensed, but his eyes betrayed him. He couldn't look away. His cock stirred against his pants, hardening slowly with every sound that left you, with every pathetic little whimper muffled by Jake's cock. He watched the tears streak down your face, the way your hand lifted shakily from the floor, reaching for him.

Your fingers trembled as they hovered against his thigh, then slid higher until they brushed over the hard bulge in his pants. Your eyes lifted toward him, glassy, half-lidded, drowning in tears and lust, staring directly into his.

Heeseung exhaled sharply, his composure cracking.

And when your palm pressed firmer against him, stroking lightly through the fabric, his cock throbbed violently in response.

Your back arched off when Heeseung's hands moved to his belt. The sight alone was enough to make your chest tighten and your pussy throb, your body reacting with a hunger you couldn't disguise. Sunghoon caught it immediately, his laugh was low against your ear, mocking the way you looked so desperate without shame. He shifted off you, giving Heeseung room.

"Does Jay know about this?" Heeseung asked, his eyes cutting toward Jake and Sunghoon as if demanding an explanation even while his hands were already pulling at his clothes.

Jake's grin widened, still slick with your spit as he slid his cock from your mouth. "It's a surprise," he answered simply, as if that explained everything. His hand squeezed the back of your neck one last time before releasing you, and your body slumped against the mattress, chest heaving, throat raw. But before you could even recover, Heeseung's hands pressed against you, guiding your body flat onto your back, his touch so commanding you followed without question.

The world tilted when the fabric of your dress slipped from your shoulders, your body fully bared under their stares. Sunghoon leaned close again, his nose brushing your cheek as his voice dipped. "Look at those pretty eyes." His words curled into your skin, and you whimpered before turning toward him, your lips crashing into his. The kiss was messy, desperate, your mouth opening wide for him, your tongue tangling with his as though you could pull the heat out of him and swallow it whole.

Jake's fingers hooked your panties and dragged them down your legs, his eyes glued to the slick mess between your thighs. The moment he saw your pussy clenching and unclenching around nothing, a growl broke from his throat.

Heeseung's response was just as guttural, his eyes narrowing as he dropped down onto his knees beside Jake, their shoulders brushing as if they were competing for the same prize. Without hesitation, they lifted your legs, spreading you shamelessly open, one of your thighs resting on each of their broad shoulders.

Sunghoon didn't let you breathe. His mouth consumed yours, his tongue pressing harder, his teeth tugging your bottom lip as his hand cradled your jaw, keeping you locked against him. You barely managed a moan into his mouth when the first hot lick dragged across your clit, the sudden sensation shooting up your spine so violently you tore yourself away from Sunghoon's kiss. Your eyes flew down, wide and dazed, only to meet Heeseung's sharp gaze staring up at you while his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking with deliberate, teasing pulls.

Your mouth fell open, your chest rising and falling rapidly, but you didn't dare blink. You couldn't miss the sight of his face buried between your legs, his tongue flattening against your sensitive bud and flicking so slowly it bordered on torture. Your thighs shook, trying to close, but his grip on your hips was unyielding.

"Hey," Sunghoon muttered, his fingers squeezing your chin until your eyes snapped back to him. His gaze was dark, narrowed, a flicker of jealousy twisting in it. "I was the one who found you. Give me some attention."

Your whimpers came small, but you still obeyed, your hand trembling as he guided it down between his legs. The hard ridge of his cock was burning against the fabric of his pants. The moment your palm pressed against him, your body shivered from the weight of him.

They were massive. You had heard the whispers from other girls, but no rumor had prepared you for the truth. Your fingers wrapped around him, squeezing gently through the fabric, and Sunghoon's lips parted, his breath catching as his hips rocked into your touch.

"Fuck," he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin as if your touch alone was enough to push him toward the edge.

And then Jake bit down on your inner thigh, hard enough to make you cry out, his tongue following the sting with a wet, sucking kiss that left your skin marked. Heeseung's lips abandoned your clit, only to press lower, his tongue flattening against your dripping entrance before slurping noisily at the wetness pooling there. The sound was obscene, messy, and you moaned louder than you ever had, the combination of Jake's teeth marking your thighs and Heeseung's mouth devouring you unraveling every last thread of composure you had.

"Shh." Sunghoon's voice was ragged as his hand pressed against your jaw again, his hips grinding into your palm while his other hand fumbled with his belt. His pants dropped down his thighs, and when he freed himself, your eyes widened, your mouth watering instantly at the sight. His cock was flushed and heavy, the tip glistening with pre-cum, so thick it almost made your stomach flutter with fear.

Your legs were trembling uncontrollably, but you couldn't close them, not when Jake and Heeseung had you pinned wide open, their mouths swapping positions greedily between your clit and your entrance.

Jake was hungrier, reckless with the way his tongue plunged into you, his lips sucking against your folds so loudly it drowned out even the bass from the music downstairs. You could feel him moan against you, his hands gripping your thighs tighter, his whole face buried as if he wanted to drown in your pussy.

"Say ah," Sunghoon knelt in front of you, his cock gripped tightly in his hand. You obeyed instantly, your lips falling open, your eyes wide and locked on his face.

The expression he wore was enough to make your stomach twist—his brows drawn tight, his lips parted as if he were biting back a curse, his gaze focused entirely on your mouth as though nothing else in the world existed.

"So eager," he whispered hoarsely, his cock brushing against your lips as pre-cum smeared across them. "Fuck."

Heeseung rose slowly from between your thighs, his lips and chin slick with your wetness, his chest lifting heavily with each breath. His gaze drifted down over your trembling body, then to Sunghoon's cock hovering dangerously close to your lips, before his large hands moved to your chest. The weight of his touch was deliberate, kneading the softness of your breasts, his thumbs dragging over your nipples until they tightened again under his attention.

The combination was unbearable, your body jerking at every angle, twitching against their hands and mouths as if you no longer had control over it. Sunghoon's sudden pace had your cheeks hollowing, his cock stretching your lips as he thrust with low, restrained groans. At the same time, Heeseung's fingers twisted your nipples mercilessly, sharp flicks that sent heat rushing to your core, and Jake's tongue was buried inside you, fucking your entrance with wet, eager strokes. Each movement pulled you in a different direction, your body caught in the middle of all three of them until you felt yourself unraveling at the seams.

Your head was spinning, dizzy from the sensation. The world tilted and blurred, your muffled moans spilling out against Sunghoon's cock, your tears streaking down your cheeks. It was overwhelming, but in the best way, better than anything you had ever experienced, better than every fumbling encounter that left you aching and unsatisfied.

This was hunger given form, this was desire being fed by three men who knew exactly how to break you. Every flick of Heeseung's fingers, every thrust of Jake's tongue, every push of Sunghoon's cock made your stomach coil tighter and tighter, until the knot inside you threatened to snap.

And then it did.

You came so hard it tore a strangled cry out of your throat, your body convulsing with the force of it. The orgasm crashed into you violently, your back arching off the bed, your legs trembling as Jake's hands clamped down on your thighs to keep you open.

You almost bit down on Sunghoon from the shock of it, your mouth clenching, your throat spasming, and he pulled back with a sharp hiss, his hand replacing himself on your lips to keep you from choking. But Jake didn't stop; he didn't even pause. His tongue twisted deep inside you, lapping greedily at everything you gave him, his head moving side to side as if he wanted to drink you dry. He held you down through every wave, prolonging the orgasm until you thought your body might tear apart from how hard you were shaking.

"Fuck, ah—fuck, shit," Sunghoon cursed above you, his voice breaking into a groan. His grip tightened on your jaw as his release hit suddenly, hot ropes of cum splattering across your face in quick, forceful bursts. Some streaked down your lips, some across your cheeks, and one stray spurt landed in your eye, stinging faintly but drowned out by the overwhelming tide of pleasure still wrecking your body.

You barely processed it, too lost in the pulsing aftershocks of your orgasm and the relentless flicks of Heeseung's thumbs still torturing your nipples. The sensation was too much, every nerve in your body stretched taut as Jake's mouth sealed back over your clit, his tongue circling lazily as he wanted to drag every last drop of climax from you.

Your sobs broke into gasps, your chest rising sharply, your face sticky with Sunghoon's cum, your throat raw from the moans you couldn't stop. And still, Heeseung's eyes stayed locked on you, darkly watching you writhe.

"I need to fuck her already," Heeseung finally muttered, already standing.

Jake stopped what he was doing and glared at him, his jaw clenched. "Who the fuck said you were gonna be first? I was the one who talked to her. I was the one who had her on her knees until now." His hands went to his shirt, ripping it over his head before shoving his pants down impatiently, his irritation burning through every motion.

Sunghoon sighed, throwing his head back, eyes half-lidded as he grabbed your shaky hand and wrapped it around his cock. "You two are always fighting about this shit," he muttered, ignoring the tension and letting you stroke him, his hips lifting slightly into your fist. His lashes fluttered shut as a low groan escaped him. "Fuck, that's it. Don't stop, baby. Just keep going. That's all I need."

"Fuck off," Heeseung snapped as he took a step closer. "You've both had enough time playing with her. I've been waiting, and I'm not standing here any longer."

Your eyes darted between them, your chest rising in short, desperate pulls of breath, before landing on Sunghoon again. He was still focused only on you, his hand over yours, guiding you up and down his thick cock. "Feels so fucking good," he groaned, his voice breaking, his neck exposed as his head fell back.

"That's why I get to be the first to fuck her," Jake shot back, standing tall now, his cock hard and throbbing against his stomach. His smirk was sharp, challenging. "You were late. I've been making her drip for me."

Sunghoon leaned closer to you, his breath hot against your ear, his lips brushing the corner of your jaw. "Ignore them, baby. Just focus on me." His other hand slid around your waist, tugging you closer until his lips pressed firmly against your neck. He kissed you hard, then nipped at your skin, his teeth dragging up to your jaw before biting again. You gasped at the sting, your hand stroking him faster, your wrist straining with the effort.

"Such a good girl," he moaned, his lips vibrating against your throat. His fingers slipped down your belly until they found your soaked pussy again, circling lazily around your entrance. The teasing pressure made you jolt, your moans tumbling out helplessly as he finally pushed one finger inside. Your walls clenched instantly, wrapping tight around him, and his sharp groan against your ear told you exactly how much he liked it. "So tight," he whispered, almost to himself, before sinking another finger inside.

"Sunghoon—" your voice broke, whimpering, the heat spreading too fast through your core as his hand worked inside you.

"Keep those pretty legs open for me, baby," he murmured, his lips dragging down to your shoulder, his teeth grazing the delicate skin. "Need to stretch this pussy for all of us. You want that, don't you? Want to take us all?"

Your only answer was a frantic nod, your lips trembling as your hand gripped his cock tighter, pumping him faster even as your own body shuddered from his fingers curling deep inside.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself too much, Sunghoon," Jake hissed, stepping forward. His hand shot out, pulling you roughly away from Sunghoon's grip. You whined at the sudden loss, your body immediately protesting the absence of his fingers inside you.

"Shhh, darling," Jake cooed mockingly, wiping at your cum-stained face with his thumb before pressing his lips against yours in a hungry kiss. His mouth was demanding, tasting, his teeth nipping at your lower lip before pulling back with a smirk. "Me and Heeseung will make you feel so fucking good. You want that, don't you?"

"Yes," you whimpered without hesitation, nodding quickly, your desperation spilling through. You turned on your hands and knees before they could even tell you, body moving on instantly because you knew. You'd heard the whispers. You knew this was how Jake liked to fuck—rough, from behind, with no mercy. "Please."

Jake's laugh was low, almost breathless as he stared at your ass. "Fuck, you don't even need to be told. So hot like this." His palm cracked against your cheek, the sting making you moan as he spread you open with his hands.

Your eyes flicked up, catching Sunghoon again—he was watching with his lip caught between his teeth, his hand wrapped tight around his cock, stroking lazily as his gaze devoured you. And then your eyes trailed higher, locking with Heeseung, who was standing in front of you, holding the base of his thick cock as if offering it to you. You opened your mouth instantly, ready to take him, but instead he grabbed your chin, tilting your head until you were forced to look up at him.

You sucked in a sharp breath when Jake's tip pressed against your soaked pussy, your entire body stiffening at the stretch before he even entered. His grip on your waist was bruising, anchoring you in place.

"Shit," Jake groaned under his breath, his voice breaking into a growl as he pushed in deeper. "How long has it been since you've been fucked like this? You're tight as fuck."

Your whimpers filled the air, your eyes locked on Heeseung's as he squished your cheeks between his large hand.

"Talk," Heeseung demanded, his eyes burning down into you. "Don't just sit there like a pretty little toy. Tell us what you want. Say it."

The moment he said it, Jake shoved his cock all the way inside you, the sudden fullness making your head drop forward with a cry.

"Moan louder. Scream our names. Tell us what to do to you," Heeseung ordered, pushing you to the edge as Jake's thrusts started to slam into you from behind.

"I—" you stammered through gasps, your body buckling under the rhythm. "I've been dreaming of this since first year." The confession tumbled out without filter, every word dripping with desperation.

Your honesty ripped a sound from both Jake and Sunghoon, low groans that mixed with the slick sound of your body being fucked. Heeseung's gaze hardened, his nostrils flaring as his jaw clenched. Jake's thrusts grew harsher, his hips snapping against you with punishing speed.

"W-want all of you to use me—fuck me, please!" you squealed, your voice cracking as Jake's cock found that spot inside you and hit it mercilessly.

Jake's laugh was cruel, his words spilling out between moans. "Yeah? That's why you gave in so fucking easy? Thought we'd have to drag it out of you, but you just spread those legs like the slut you are." His hand clamped down on your arms, dragging you back onto his cock as he fucked you harder, each thrust shaking your body forward.

Tears pooled again in your eyes as you shook your head weakly, your voice breaking between cries. "N-not a slut! D-don't call me that—ah, f-fuck! Jake!"

But he only thrust faster, slamming into you, groaning at how you clenched so tightly around him the harder he degraded you.

"Yeah?" Jake's voice dropped to a whisper, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Then why the fuck are you here like this? Why are you dripping on me if you're not exactly what I called you?" His thrusts grew erratic, pounding straight into the softest spot inside you, making your knees tremble, making your nails dig into the sheets until your knuckles turned white.

You couldn't even answer him at first, because the way he was fucking you made your thoughts scatter, your mouth falling open as broken sounds spilled out. But then Heeseung was behind you again, his hand fisting in your hair, pulling your head back so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. His gaze was sharp, demanding, but underneath it you caught the faintest flicker of restraint, as though he was holding back.

"Come on," Heeseung murmured. His thumb brushed over your trembling bottom lip before tightening his grip on your hair, forcing your mouth open slightly. "Ignore him. Tell us what you need. Use that pretty voice."

Your chest heaved, your lashes fluttering, every nerve in your body screaming for more. "Want you—" your voice cracked, "want you all to fill m-my pussy up." The words came out broken, but loud enough for all of them to hear. Your body arched as another wave of Jake's thrusts sent shocks of heat through you, and you sobbed through your moan. "G-give me your biggest load, make me your toy for tonight—ahhh!"

Your scream broke off when Jake's hand slipped down, his fingers pinching your clit hard before slapping it over and over, sharp little bursts of pain crashing into the overwhelming pleasure. The mix had your eyes rolling back into your skull, your mouth falling open as drool slipped from the corner of your lips.

"Yes! Fuck, yes!" you squealed, your voice hoarse, your body jerking helplessly as the coil in your stomach twisted tight, tighter than before. Your thighs shook violently, your legs threatening to give out beneath you if it weren't for Jake's grip anchoring you in place. Every nerve screamed release, but he didn't stop, his cock drilling into you, his fingers punishing your clit until you were certain you'd break.

"Where do you want it?" Jake grunted against your neck, his thrusts almost brutal now, each one stealing the air from your lungs. "Where do you want me to cum, huh? Say it."

Heeseung tugged your hair harder, forcing your eyes to meet his again, his dark gaze pinning you as if daring you to answer wrong. Sunghoon's low groans filled the room behind them, the sound of his fist gliding over his cock only making the moment heavier.

Your lips trembled as you tried to form the words, every part of you shaking, drowning in pleasure, drowning in them.

"Anywhere," you gasped. "In my mouth, in my face, in my body, in my pussy—just fucking cum anywhere in me!"

"Fuck!" Jake groaned. His palm came down on your clit with a sharp slap that had your legs trembling so violently, your pussy clenching down on him with merciless tightness. The shock sent your body into another wave, your scream cutting through the air as you came hard around his cock, your walls fluttering, soaking him with everything you had.

The way you pulsed around him dragged him over the edge, his hips snapping forward with reckless speed until his cock throbbed and spilled, his hot cum spilling deep inside you in thick spurts that made your stomach twist with satisfaction. The moment you felt him paint your walls, you let out a long, broken moan, almost sobbing at how good it felt, how badly you'd needed it.

Heeseung finally let go of your hair, stepping back just far enough to watch you crumble under Jake. His eyes were locked on the mess between your legs, on the sight of Jake's cock still buried in you while his cum leaked out in slow, obscene drips.

His hand slid down his abdomen until he was stroking himself openly, his jaw tight, his breathing heavy. The look in his eyes told you he was seconds away from joining, and that thought made your clit twitch with aftershocks.

Sunghoon's chest rose and fell sharply as he leaned back, still stroking his cock at a steady rhythm, his gaze locked on you. His lips parted, his breathing uneven, as though just watching you was enough to push him close.

Jake's body eventually stilled, his forehead damp with sweat, his chest heaving with each breath as he looked down at your trembling frame. He pulled back slowly, letting his cock slide free from your swollen pussy. The moment he did, his cum began to spill out in a steady stream, dripping down your thighs and pooling between them.

He had never finished that hard before—he knew it, and from the stunned silence, so did the others. Even Heeseung's brows had furrowed at the sight, as if he couldn't believe how much you were leaking.

Your eyes fluttered half-lidded, your lashes wet with tears and sweat, your breaths shallow and uneven. Your body was heavy, limp from the storm that had wracked you, but somewhere deep inside, you found the strength to move your fingers, twitching weakly against the sheets. You weren't done. You couldn't be. You wanted more—you needed more. Your body begged for it, trembling but eager, your pussy clenching around nothing as if calling for another cock to fill you.

You forced your eyes open again, vision blurred with sweat and tears. And then—

"You're into this shit again?"

That voice. Deep, familiar voice, it cut through everything—the ringing in your ears, the haze in your mind, the pounding of your own heart.

Your pussy clenched instantly, as if your body recognized him before your brain could, a sharp rush of need flooding through you at just the sound.

"Took you long enough, Jay," Sunghoon muttered with a crooked smile, though his hand didn't stop stroking himself.

Jake looked up too, his chest still heaving, his hand dragging across his sweaty forehead, annoyance flickering across his features. Heeseung paused mid-stroke, his gaze narrowing, his jaw flexing as his attention shifted from you to the man at the door.

And you—your throat went dry, your lips parted, your heart slamming painfully against your ribs. Jay was here. Finally!

A soft, broken whine left your lips as your body shifted toward him. Jay's eyes sharpened, his expression was unreadable as he stepped fully inside, closing the door behind him. The click of the lock sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze swept over the room, over Jake still breathless, Sunghoon stroking himself lazily, Heeseung looming above you, and finally, it landed on you—sweaty, trembling, your face flushed and messy, your eyes wide and glassy as they reached for him.

He didn't move immediately. He just stood there, silent, his jaw tight, demanding the others explain without him saying a word.

But Heeseung didn't give him the chance. He gripped your legs firmly, dragging you down the bed until you were flush beneath him, your body spread and waiting. Jay's eyes narrowed as he caught the sight of your hand twitching toward him, so close yet so far, the longing in your movement almost pathetic in its honesty.

Before you could call out, Heeseung pinned your arms above your head, his fingers curling around your wrists with unrelenting strength. His mouth brushed the shell of your ear, his voice low and taunting. "No more waiting. I've already held back long enough."

And then without warning, he pushed his cock all the way into you in one brutal thrust.

Your scream ripped through the air, your body arching violently as he bottomed out, stretching you so suddenly you could hardly think. The slick of Jake's cum inside you made it easier, made it wetter, but it didn't stop the sharp, overwhelming sting of being filled again so completely, so roughly.

"Fuck—yes," Heeseung groaned, his forehead pressing briefly to your temple as he steadied himself, though his hips didn't slow. "Need to bury my dick inside this pussy before anyone else tries to stop me. If I wait another second, I'll lose my goddamn mind."

He began to pound into you without mercy, each thrust shaking your body, pushing you deeper into the mattress. The sound of it mixed with his growls and your cries until it was all one desperate rhythm. His pace was punishing, desperate, as if he needed to erase the traces Jake left behind, like he needed to make sure you remembered him the most.

Your eyes flickered open through the haze, and there's Jay.

He was still standing where he'd closed the door, but now his chest rose heavily, his lips parted slightly, and his fists were clenched at his sides. He was watching you, not Heeseung, not Jake or Sunghoon, but you—his gaze locked on your face, on the way your lips trembled around moans, on the way your eyes begged for him even while another man fucked you senseless.

The sight of him like that—stoic, his stare pinning you harder than Heeseung's grip ever could—made your walls spasm tight around Heeseung's cock. You couldn't move forward, couldn't reach Jay the way you wanted, Heeseung's weight pinning you down just as Jake had before. It was maddening, being fucked this hard while Jay stood so close yet untouchable.

"Look at you," Heeseung groaned, his pace ruthless, his cock battering your soaked cunt. "You're dripping, squeezing me like you never want me to leave. You love it—you fucking love it."

And he wasn't wrong.

Your mind was spiraling, torn between the brutal pleasure flooding your body and the heat of Jay's eyes locked on you.

Heeseung's hand slid up the side of your face, his fingers pressing into your cheek as he tilted your head toward him. The moment your lips brushed against his, you melted, kissing him back feverishly, moaning into his mouth as he swallowed every sound. His thrusts didn't falter, his cock dragging mercilessly against that spot inside you that had you unraveling so quickly, another orgasm barreling through your overstimulated body before you could even brace yourself. Your legs shook violently, your cries muffled by his mouth as you shattered around him again.

Jake, still hard and needy, didn't wait any longer. He stepped closer, ignoring Jay's looming silence, his cock already heavy and dripping. Sunghoon followed, stroking himself lazily, his smirk curling as he looked down at your messy face and trembling body. Heeseung adjusted his body and hold, his hand locking tightly around your waist as he slowed just enough to grind into you deliberately, rolling his hips in a way that pressed cruelly against your swollen clit and that spongy spot inside, teasing you, forcing more whimpers from your lips even as your body tried to recover.

When Jake and Sunghoon moved to either side of your head, you reacted instantly. Both your hands reached out to wrap around them, your fingers straining around their girth. A muffled moan escaped you, your eyes fluttering, as Sunghoon leaned lower, his hand sliding to your breast, kneading it roughly.

The sensation made you gasp, your lips parting, and Jake took the opportunity to rub his cock against your tongue. You sighed in bliss, your throat vibrating as you licked the tip, your saliva mixing with the sticky fluid still clinging to him from earlier. You sucked eagerly, slurping him down before switching, letting Sunghoon feel your tongue glide along the underside of his length, licking from his base to his leaking tip. All the while, Heeseung's thrusts grew sharper, pounding harder, each one jarring your body as he lost the battle with his own restraint.

"Fuck, you really wanted this, huh?" Sunghoon groaned, watching your lips wrap around him before sliding free. His hand tangled in your hair, guiding you lower, feeding himself into your mouth as his hips rolled slowly, deliberately. "Moaning with three cocks on you, and enjoying every second of it."

Your eyes watered as you let him push deeper, your throat tightening, but the messy desperation in your moans proved his words right. You pulled off with a wet gasp, kissing the head of his cock, smearing saliva across it before whispering against him.

"Love your cock... so much," you breathed, your lips brushing the tip, your eyes flicking immediately past him—toward Jay. That gnawing ache inside you swelled, and before you could stop yourself, your whine tumbled out. "Is Jay not gonna join?"

The room stilled at your words.

Jake chuckled dryly, tugging your wrist tighter around his shaft before thrusting into your hand with rough, impatient strokes. "You've got three cocks already and still not enough for you?" His voice dropped lower, his pace quickening as he fucked into your fist. "Can't even handle us together, but you're begging for more. God, you're insatiable."

Heeseung growled low in his throat, his thrusts growing faster, harsher, punishing you for even speaking Jay's name. Sunghoon hissed through his teeth as your grip on him tightened, his thumb brushing your spit-slicked lips.

"S-sorry!" you squeaked, your back arching violently as the three of them claimed every inch of your body with greedy, unrelenting hands. The sensations collided into each other, overwhelming, making it impossible to tell where one touch ended and another began.

Your skin burned under their palms, every squeeze, every slap, every tug forcing your body to twitch and your chest to heave with broken sobs of pleasure.

"Focus on us, you fucking bitch," Heeseung growled, dangerous enough to make your cunt clench so tight around him that his hips stuttered. He cursed, gripping your waist harder, his cock slamming into you with renewed force, each thrust demanding your full attention, demanding that you forget everything but him, but them.

Your eyes rolled back, your lips trembling, but you couldn't stop glancing toward Jay, couldn't stop feeling that magnetic pull toward his stare.

Jake grunted, his hand tangling roughly in your hair, yanking your head toward him as his cock brushed against your lips again. "Ignore him. You hear me? He's not the one inside you right now—we are. So open your fucking mouth and focus," his cockhead smearing across your tongue before pushing in, forcing your throat to stretch around him again. The taste of him mixed with the mess already dripping down your chin, and you moaned around his length, gagging slightly when he pushed deeper, his hips jerking at the sound.

Sunghoon, never content to let the others take more than him, pressed closer, his fingers pinching your nipple until you whined. "That's right. You're ours tonight, baby. All ours."

His hand slid lower, spreading you wider for Heeseung's relentless thrusts, his fingers brushing your clit in circles that made you sob.

Your words came out slurred. "Y-yours! All yours! F-fuck—I can't—ahh, I can't take it—"

Heeseung cut you off with a growl, thrusting deeper, harder, the bed frame slamming into the wall with each movement. "Yes, you can, slut. You'll take everything I give you." The hot rasp of his breath fanned against your skin, making your entire body shiver. Your walls clenched even tighter around him, milking his cock.

"I'm not a fucking slut!" The protest tore from your throat just as another orgasm ripped through you, your body spasming violently.

Your legs tried to slam shut against the unbearable pleasure, but Jake and Sunghoon caught them instantly, spreading you wider, keeping you open, holding you there as Heeseung continued pounding into you mercilessly. Your moan stretched high, long, broken in its desperation as tears streamed down your face.

Heeseung pulled out abruptly, your cunt fluttering around nothing, before plunging three of his fingers inside you. The sudden stretch made your entire body jolt upward, your scream breaking into sobs as he fucked his fingers into you with a brutal pace. His palm pressed hard against your clit with every thrust, his thumb flicking over the swollen bud, making your vision blur and your mind scatter.

Your body shook violently, your head thrashing from side to side, your voice rising in hysterical sobs that filled the room. "Stop! S-stop! I'm gonna—I'm go-going to pee! Stop, wait! Please, wait—!"

Your arms tried to push them off, tried to squirm free, but Jake and Sunghoon pinned you tighter, one hand on each wrist, one grip on each thigh, keeping you spread open for Heeseung's relentless assault.

Heeseung's eyes darkened, his jaw clenched as he kept driving into your pussy with his fingers, your slick coating his hand, dripping down his wrist, the sound of it loud and wet. His cock twitched angrily in his other hand as he stroked himself in slow pulls, groaning low in his chest. "Come on, sweetheart. Don't fight it. Let it out for us. Show us how much you need us."

Jake leaned closer, his lip caught between his teeth, his eyes fixed on the mess between your thighs. The obscene squelching filled his ears, making his cock ache again. "Fuck—listen to her pussy. She's about to—" His words cut off with a groan as his own hips rutted helplessly into the air.

Your high-pitched scream tore through the room as the dam inside you finally snapped. 

A gush of hot liquid burst from your pussy, splattering over your stomach, your thighs, the sheets beneath you, drenching Heeseung's hand and face as he ducked lower, moaning against the spray. The force of it made your ears ring, your vision blur, your body convulse helplessly.

It was humiliating, overwhelming, devastatingly good. You sobbed openly, your face slick with tears and spit, Sunghoon's cum already drying against your skin, and now your own release coating everything around you. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your legs twitching and kicking weakly until Jake and Sunghoon finally let them fall open to the side.

You curled inward, your arms wrapping protectively over your chest, your body folding small as though you could hide. But the sheets were soaked beneath you, the air heavy with the scent of sex, the room echoing with your broken cries.

"So good," Heeseung's lips parted against your soaked skin and licked at the mess you left on his face. His eyes fluttered shut, his strokes on his cock tightening, his hand gliding through the mixture of your slick and squirt.

"Get the fuck to the side. I'm going to taste it." Jake's hand already twitched toward you, greedy, impatient.

Sunghoon's laugh came rough and breathless, his chest rising and falling as he lazily stroked himself, his eyes locked on the wet ruin between your thighs. "Bro, shut the fuck up. You already had your turn. It's my turn now."

Sunghoon leaned forward, dragging his tongue over your cheek, licking at the tears that stained your skin before pressing a sloppy kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"Step aside. I'm not done yet." Heeseung shoved Sunghoon out of his way, his hand already on your thigh, forcing your legs apart with a strength that made your body jolt.

"W-wait—" your voice broke, a weak sniffle escaping as you tried to catch your breath, your chest heaving rapidly, overstimulation already threatening to unravel you further.

The stretch of your thighs, the way Heeseung's fingers pressed into your skin, it all made you flinch with both anticipation and fear. You weren't sure if you could take more, but your body betrayed you, your cunt twitching at the thought of him filling you again.

"Dude, no fun," Sunghoon muttered, irritation coloring his tone as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, still tasting you there. His cock twitched in his fist, but he leaned back with a scowl.

"Three of you step back. You can't even take care of her." Jay's voice cut through the air, commanding, silencing all of them in an instant.

Your head turned instinctively toward him. The sound of his voice sent a violent shiver down your spine, your pussy clenching around nothing as though it had been waiting only for him. Your chest hitched, your lips parting on a desperate little whimper that you couldn't hold back. "J-Jay..."

Jake scoffed from the other side of the bed, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, but the flash of annoyance in his expression didn't hide the way his chest rose faster, as if even he knew Jay's presence shifted everything. "She's fine. Don't act like you're the savior now."

Jay's gaze flicked toward him, before returning to you. He moved closer until he stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at your trembling body. "She's more than fine. She's a mess. Look at her." His jaw tightened as his eyes roamed over you—your soaked thighs, your trembling legs, your chest that still rose and fell unevenly. His voice softened. "She's mine to take care of."

Heeseung growled low in his throat, clearly unwilling to back off, his body still hovering over you. "We've already broken her in. Don't come here acting like you own her now." His fingers dug into your thigh harder, spreading you wider as if to make his point.

Jay's expression didn't shift, though his eyes burned darker. "Then move. Or I'll make you."

You breathe heavily, looking at the both of them. And you—your body trembled violently, torn apart by the clash of their voices, but deep down you knew what you wanted. Your lips quivered, the words slipping out before you could stop yourself. "I... I want Jay..."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Heeseung froze above you, his eyes narrowing dangerously, while Jake let out a low laugh, though the jealousy in it was sharp. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, biting his lip as though amused but also curious to see what Jay would do.

Jay leaned closer, his hand reaching out to brush your messy hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle after all the roughness you'd endured. His thumb stroked over your damp cheek, wiping at the dried tears. His gaze softened as he looked at you.

"Here I thought I was your favorite," Heeseung muttered, finally releasing the tight grip he had on your leg. Beneath the teasing, a mix of bitterness and disappointment that made your chest ache even in your haze.

Jake snorted, throwing a smirk in Heeseung's direction as he wiped sweat from his brow. "Don't flatter yourself. She probably still thinks you're her number one. She just wants another cock inside her because that's what sluts do." His words were cruel, but his retreat was obvious, stepping back from you, his chest still heaving.

Heeseung only shrugged at that, but his eyes flicked to you once more, before he turned his head away.

Your lips trembled, guilt and shame mixing with the raw need still burning inside you. You tilted your head toward Jay, your voice coming out as the weakest of whispers. "D-do you want me to clean up first?" The moment the words left your mouth, your chest tightened—afraid he might flinch, afraid he might see you the same way Jake just called you.

But Jay only smiled softly, shaking his head as though the thought was absurd. "It's alright, angel."

The simple reassurance broke something in you. Your eyes stung all over again, but before the tears could spill, his mouth was already moving lower, pressing a trail of unhurried kisses along your inner thigh. Each press of his lips lingered. By the time his lips hovered just above your swollen core, his pointed nose brushing lightly over your sensitive clit, your back had already arched off the sheets in anticipation.

You gasped softly, when his tongue finally slid against you. Hot, steady, and so focused, his tongue swirled around your folds before slipping inside you, teasing your oversensitive walls with a precision that made your breath catch in your throat. The contrast to the brutal pace you'd been enduring was staggering—he wasn't just eating you out, he was savoring you.

Your hands flew instinctively to his hair, trembling fingers tangling into his dark strands as you moaned helplessly, your chest rising and falling with every wave of sensation he drew from you. "J-Jay..." His name slipped from your lips brokenly.

He hummed against your cunt at the sound, the vibration making you twitch as his tongue moved deeper, stroking places inside you that made your toes curl. His grip on your hips tightened, holding you still when your thighs tried to clamp shut around his head from the overwhelming pleasure.

Behind him, you could feel the others watching—Heeseung's silence heavy, Jake's low scoff, Sunghoon's quiet hum of approval—but all of it blurred into the background when Jay moaned against you, drinking you down.

You whimpered, tugging at his hair as your hips bucked weakly into his mouth. "S-so good... I can't, I c-can't hold it—"

Jay pulled back just enough to glance up at you, his lips glistening with your slick, his eyes dark but soft. "Then don't. Let go for me, angel. Just me."

And with that, he dipped his head again, his tongue flicking against your clit with quick, precise strokes while his fingers slid inside you, curling expertly until you were screaming, until your body was trembling so hard you thought it might break apart.

Jay let go of your trembling body, his lips brushing once more against your temple before he finally shifted back. The bed dipped under his weight as he knelt at the edge, the leather of his belt creaking faintly as his fingers tugged at the buckle.

You knew the night had only just begun, but here in this room it already felt like you had been devoured whole, like there was no way out.

"Have you ever been fucked in the ass?" Jay's voice broke through, deceptively calm, his palm gliding down the curve of your thigh, rubbing in a slow rhythm as if coaxing you into trust.

Your lashes fluttered, your chest seizing as though his words had cut the air straight out of your lungs. "H-Huh?" Your voice cracked, eyes wide, searching his expression for some sign of softness that might match the way he'd just held you.

From your left, Jake let out a muffled laugh, the sound harsh against the fragile silence that followed your confusion.

Jay's hand didn't falter. He pressed a little higher on your thigh, the pads of his fingers stroking, teasing, until finally one circled lower, grazing a place that had never been touched this way before.

His tone was as gentle as before, almost sickeningly so. "I asked," he repeated slowly, "have you ever been fucked in your ass, angel?"

The tip of his finger brushed against your rim and you gasped, the breath caught sharp in your throat as heat and panic flared all at once. Your body jolted, betraying you. You couldn't even find the words, your head turning automatically toward the other three. Heeseung, Jake, and Sunghoon—all three watching you intently, not a single one offering you an escape.

You shook your head quickly, shame coloring your cheeks as your voice finally stumbled out. "N-No..."

Jay's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "On your arms and knees, then. I'll be gentle with you."

The smile was soft, but you could already feel the deception in it. You should've known by now—Jay only looked gentle when he wanted you to obey.

Your tears hadn't even dried when you felt his finger pressing more firmly at your rim, the tight, foreign intrusion making your body stiffen. The burn was immediate, sharp, a sensation your body didn't know how to handle. He twisted his finger slowly, deliberately, and the stretch made you whimper, your hands clawing desperately at the sheets.

"C-can't take it," you cried, shaking your head, your vision blurring again. Your body writhed under him, desperate for someone—anyone—to stop him.

"Hurts, Sunghoon. It hurts!" Your arm reached blindly for him, searching for comfort.

And Sunghoon leaned in instantly, catching your reaching hand, his lips brushing your temple in mock sympathy. "Shh," he cooed, the sound almost tender if not for the wicked edge beneath it. "I thought you were a good girl? You've been dreaming about us for so long, haven't you? This is what you wanted."

Your sobs shook your chest, but your body betrayed you again—clenching around Jay's finger, trembling from every deliberate twist.

On your other side, Heeseung moved closer, crouching low until his chest brushed against your arm. He caught your free hand and guided it toward him, pressing your palm around his cock.  "Come on, baby. Use those hands. Don't just cry. Make yourself useful while Jay breaks you in."

Jay's finger pushed deeper, the slow stretch pulling another ragged sob from your throat. He watched you closely, his jaw tight, his cock already heavy in his hand as he stroked it lazily. His lips curved again, "relax, angel. Breathe. I'll make it hurt less if you beg me properly."

When Jay finally pulled his finger free, your body sagged in relief—but it was short-lived. The sharp tear of foil reached your ears, and your stomach flipped as the sound registered. You forced your head to lift, desperate to see him, but Sunghoon's hand kept you locked in place, his grip so firm on your hair that you couldn't move. He angled you down toward Heeseung's cock again, your mouth spreading open around him until you gagged.

You heard the faint snap of latex as Jay rolled the condom down his thick length, the squirt of lube slicking the air before his fist wrapped around himself, stroking with slow, deliberate pumps. You tried to tilt your head to catch a glimpse, but Sunghoon tugged hard, forcing you to choke around Heeseung's cock. Your throat tightened painfully as you coughed against the intrusion.

"Hmp—!" Your cry was muffled, spilling against Heeseung's cock as Jay pressed forward. The blunt head of his cock nudged against your rim, stretching you in ways you weren't prepared for.

Jay's groan vibrated through the room, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he pushed deeper, inch by inch. His hands gripped your ass, spreading you wider, making you tremble as the burn ignited again.

Your throat was stuffed with Heeseung's cock, and every shallow thrust into your mouth came with another humiliating gulp, gulp, gulp. Each noise mingled with Jay's ragged breathing as he sank himself slowly into your ass.

By the time his cock buried itself halfway, your hands had flown to Heeseung's thighs in desperation, nails scratching down his skin as your throat tried to adjust. Heeseung hissed sharply at the sting, then abruptly pulled out, your mouth gasping for air as you coughed and sobbed.

"Bitch," he spat, slapping your cheek with enough force to sting. Your head tilted from the impact, tears spilling harder as you whimpered against the mattress, your body trembling uncontrollably.

The sound of the slap cracked through the room—and the shift in the air was instant. Jay froze, his dark eyes snapping up, his jaw tight. Slowly, he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, his cock still halfway inside your ass as he fixed his glare on Heeseung.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?"

"She fucking scratched me—" Heeseung started.

Jay's glare sharpened, cutting him off. His hand curled around your hip, steadying you as he leaned closer until his lips brushed your ear, his words meant for both you and Heeseung. "Apologize. To her. Now."

Heeseung's jaw flexed, annoyance flashing in his eyes, but under Jay's burning stare, he finally muttered, "...Sorry."

You sniffled, your face pressed to the sheets, too shaken to respond. Jay's grip on your hip softened just enough for his thumb to caress you. "You okay, hmm?"

You swallowed hard, unable to find your voice, and forced yourself to nod against the sheets. Your chest rose and fell in shuddering waves, but you needed him to believe you could take it.

Jay hummed softly, almost like praise. "That's it. Breathe for me, angel. Let me in. Don't hold back." His hips pressed forward again. The intrusion stretched you open slowly, your body fighting to keep up with his size. The burn sharpened into an unbearable sting, and you screamed into the mattress, toes curling tight against the sheets as you struggled not to collapse.

Sunghoon's hand smoothed over your hair, patting your head with a tenderness, so comforting that make you whimper. "Good girl," he whispered, as though you needed his approval just to keep breathing.

Then Heeseung moved closer, his hand sliding between your thighs to press against your soaked pussy.

"Sorry, baby." His palm cupped you carefully, you flinched at first, but when he leaned in, his lips closing over your nipple, sucking hard, the sharp edge of pain dulled under a rush of pleasure. The shift made your back arch violently, the cry that tore from you high and desperate.

"Ahh! F-fuck!" you screamed, voice cracking, torn between pain and bliss.

Jay grunted at the way your body squeezed around him, his hand wrapping tightly around your arm to pull it back behind you like a lever. His other hand gripped your shoulder firmly, anchoring you while his hips snapped forward with force. Each thrust sent a wet smack echoing through the room, skin colliding with a punishing rhythm.

Heeseung groaned against your chest, his tongue flicking over your nipple as his fingers pressed harder into your clit, rubbing circles that sent shocks of sensation racing through your trembling body. The mixture of Jay's brutal thrusts and Heeseung's eager mouth had you thrashing.

You never thought being filled that way could drag such a storm out of you. The sting that had first made you sob now twisted into something overwhelming, a blend of fire and honey that made your body betray you with every clench. Each thrust blurred the line between pain and euphoria until you couldn't separate one from the other, only the dizzy rush that kept forcing cries from your throat.

At some point, you lost track of who was where.

You were a doll passed between them, shifted and handled, your body too pliant to resist, too consumed by sensation to understand the movement until it was already happening.

When Jay lifted you with an arm hooked under your ribs, carrying your trembling weight as though you were light as air, your limbs hung loose, hair falling forward like a curtain, your head lolling against his chest. The world was hazy, sound muffled except for their voices and the unrelenting rhythm of flesh against flesh.

You moaned uncontrollably, the sound spilling out of you even before Sunghoon pushed inside your swollen pussy. He didn't wait, he didn't tease—he slid in deep, and the stretch dragged another cry out of your throat.

Jake positioned himself over you, his hands squeezing your tits roughly, pressing them together around the length of his cock. He thrusted between them with a feral need, groaning at the slick heat as he forced you to keep your trembling arms raised so you couldn't rest, so none of them were ignored.

Your muscles screamed, the burn in your shoulders mixing with the fire between your legs. Yet the harder it became to hold on, the more your moans broke apart into helpless sobs.

"Shit! So fucking good!" Sunghoon moaned, usually he was silent, the one who held back while the others filled the air, but now his restraint had shattered. His moans came rough and guttural, pulled from his chest with every thrust, his expression twisting into something close to pure bliss. Each time his hips met yours, the sound that tore from his throat was louder, rawer, until you realized he was trembling too—losing himself in you just as much as you were unraveling under him.

Your vision blurred at the edges, tears clinging to your lashes, the ringing in your ears drowning out everything but their voices and the wet sounds of bodies colliding. Orgasms tore through you one after another, piling so fast you couldn't separate them anymore. You were trapped in the spiral of it, begging without thought, "Y-yes, fuck, yes—I can't stop—I need it—please, don't stop!"

Your body betrayed you completely, arching up even as you wanted to collapse. The adhesive gems clinging to your eyelids sparkled faintly under the dim light, miraculously still in place as your eyes rolled back, your tongue slipping free from your mouth with no strength left to hold it in. You were a mess, unrecognizable even to yourself, but they devoured every second of it.

Jake groaned low in his chest as his cock pulsed, spilling over your tits, hot ropes covering your skin until you were painted in him. He slapped your chest once more, watching it smear across your breasts before stumbling back, his body giving out as he dropped onto the mattress, panting heavily, drained but satisfied.

The moment you were freed from him, your lips were claimed again. Heeseung and Jay's mouths fought for space against yours, kissing you with different kinds of urgency—Jay deep and consuming, Heeseung sharp and demanding. Their lips pulled moans out of you you didn't even know you had left, your eyes shut tight as your mouth parted helplessly between them.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon's cock dragged deeper inside you, angling until it brushed that spot that made your whole body spasm. The rhythm of his thrusts grew steadier, more desperate, his hips slamming into you with a pace that made your chest heave and your breath hitch against the mouths kissing yours. He was unrelenting, he couldn't stop himself, your body had unlocked something in him he never wanted to let go of.

Sunghoon's control shattered first. His jaw clenched, veins standing out along his neck as he pushed deeper, his movements rough and unsteady, every thrust dragging a desperate sound from him. His eyes squeezed shut and his head tilted back, a moan ripping from his throat as his stomach tightened, the pleasure consuming him faster than he could handle. He bit down on his lip, but it wasn't enough to stifle the way his body shook while his cock throbbed violently inside you.

You felt the hot flood of his release filling you in long, uncontrollable spurts. It spread thick through your core, making your walls clench tighter as though your body wanted to keep him there, to hold every drop.

The sensation was so overwhelming that your back arched high into Jay's chest. He caught you easily, his large hand spreading over your breast and kneading. His lips swallowed your broken moans, his tongue sliding deep until you whimpered against him, unable to keep up.

Your hips jerked when Sunghoon finally spilled the last of his release, the force of it pushing some of his cum to seep out around his cock. He slumped forward, chest heaving, but his grip on your waist betrayed his reluctance to leave you. He wanted to stay buried, to keep claiming you—but his body gave out, and with a low groan he pulled free, his length glistening as it slid from your swollen cunt.

The loss of him left you trembling, and before you could even breathe, Heeseung was already there. His hand slid between your thighs, fingers parting your slick folds without hesitation. He rubbed over your swollen clit in tight circles, faster, sharper, and your lips tore away from Jay's kiss to scream, your cry echoing through the room as a new wave of sensation tore through you.

Sunghoon's cum was still dripping from your pussy when Heeseung's fingers slapped against your sensitive clit. The sharp sting made your hips spasm, jerking upward uncontrollably, the sound of the wet slap filling the room. Your thighs shook, but Jay's hand on your chest kept you pressed firmly against him, forcing you to take it all.

"So fucking hot," Jay groaned against your skin, his teeth grazing your neck before biting down just enough to leave a mark. He soothed the bite with his tongue before sucking at the spot, leaving his claim branded into your skin while you cried softly beneath him.

"Come on," Heeseung coaxed. He gave your clit another sharp slap that made you gasp, your entire body twitching. "Breathe. Deep. You've still got two cocks waiting for you."

Your body was trembling, the exhaustion in your muscles fighting against the need clawing through your veins. Every part of you screamed for a pause, a moment of stillness, but your lips betrayed you, spilling soft, broken words into the heated air.

"...cock... want more..." you whispered, not even sure if you meant to say it out loud, but the second it left your mouth, they moved.

They shifted you onto Heeseung first, his broad chest rising under your palms as he positioned himself at your entrance. Your thighs burned as you straddled him, but you couldn't stop yourself from lowering down, grinding until his thick tip slid past your folds, the friction making your entire body quiver.

Heeseung's eyes darkened immediately, his hands gripping your waist as he guided you, feeling the way your heat stretched around him.

Jay stood behind you, his movements methodical as he tore open another condom with his teeth. He rolled the latex down over his length with one hand, the other already spreading over your lower back, holding you steady. His touch was careful, deceptively gentle, even as you felt the blunt press of his cock teasing your other entrance.

The stretch made you scream, your head snapping back to his shoulder as his cock slowly pushed inside your ass. Your tits arched forward, bouncing in Heeseung's face, and he groaned like he was seeing heaven itself, his mouth immediately latching onto one nipple. His tongue flicked hard before he began sucking greedily, moaning against your skin, drowning himself in the taste of you might keep him from unraveling completely.

He told himself not to get attached, not to think beyond the raw act of it but as he looked up, catching the sight of your face twisted with both pain and euphoria, your lashes damp with tears, your lips parted, your flushed cheeks glowing, he was gone. So fucking pretty, too pretty for this. His chest tightened, his teeth sinking into his lip, half-lidded eyes watching you lose yourself while he thrust up into you.

"Ahh—fuck! S-so good! Feels so good!" you sobbed, your voice breaking as both of them found their rhythm inside you.

Jay's arm slid tighter around your middle, pulling you back against him, while his other hand anchored hard on your shoulder.

Each drive of his hips made your body lurch forward, and every time he withdrew, Heeseung thrust upward to meet you, their cocks colliding through the thin barrier inside you. The pressure was relentless, unbearable yet addicting. You felt so full, so completely wrecked, yet you didn't want them to stop.

Your head fell back against Jay's shoulder, your throat exposed, your lips trembling as the sounds poured out of you unrestrained. His gaze locked onto you, never wavering, watching every twitch of your brows, every flutter of your lashes, every blissful break in your voice.

His stomach coiled tight when he saw you smile through your moans, blissful grin that said you were floating in a haze beyond reason.

And then—when you let out a delirious laugh, drunk on cock and pleasure—both he and Heeseung nearly lost control.

"Shit... fuck, look at her," Heeseung moaned against your chest, thrusts erratic as your pussy clenched harder, milking him. His thumb found your clit again, circling with ruthless precision, making your hips twitch violently in their hold.

"Fucking cockdrunk," Jake muttered from the side, his voice strained, his hand already wrapped tight around his cock as he stroked himself, eyes devouring the sight of you stuffed full between Jay and Heeseung.

"Unbelievable..." Sunghoon hissed, though his body betrayed his words as his cock hardened again at the sight. His chest rose sharply, his jaw tightening as his eyes burned into you, unable to look away.

And you—you were flying. Your entire body trembled, sweat dripping down your back, every nerve set alight as two cocks pounded into you in perfect rhythm, stretching you in ways you never thought you could handle. You weren't just moaning anymore—you were laughing, delirious, euphoric, because nothing had ever felt this good. The world outside didn't exist. There was only this. Only them. Only the way your body sang under their hands, under their cocks.

You were living your best fucking life, and in that moment, you knew you never wanted it to end.

"Shit—I'm gonna cum," Heeseung groaned, his head falling back against the pillow as his thrusts grew uneven. You couldn't help yourself, couldn't stop your body from pushing back onto his cock, greedy for every last inch.

"Need it—please, I need you to cum inside me—don't hold back," you moaned.

Jay tightened his bicep around your throat, dragging you flush against him as his lips pressed against your temple. "Take it, angel. Take all of him."

The heat in your chest exploded when Heeseung moaned loud and emptied inside you. The sound of his voice made your heart lurch even as your own orgasm tore through you again. Your walls clenched so violently that his cock twitched helplessly, spilling thicker and thicker ropes of cum until you could feel the weight of it stretching your stomach. The mess spilled from the corners of your folds, warm streams dripping down your thighs.

But before the haze could settle, Jay's voice cut through. "Pull out, Heeseung. It's my turn—I want to cum in her too." His arm around your throat tightened, pulling you higher onto him, your back arching as his cock slid free from your ass, still painfully hard.

Heeseung hesitated, his chest heaving, his eyes narrowing like he didn't want to let go of the heat he'd buried himself in. He gave a sharp exhale of frustration but finally withdrew, his cock wet and shining as he let you slip from him.

Jay didn't waste a second. He yanked off the condom, tossing it carelessly aside, then pushed his length inside your pussy still dripping with Heeseung's load. The stretch burned, but the mix of fluids made him slide in effortlessly, and the sensation had your toes curling instantly.

"Fuck—fuck, she's so wet," Jay groaned, his forehead pressing against the side of your head. His pace was punishing, his hips snapping against your ass as his hand gripped your hip to anchor himself.

"Can't hold it—gonna fill you—"

The moment he buried himself deep, his body stiffened, and he spilled hot inside you. His growl vibrated against your ear, the sound of his release mixing with your own helpless moans. You could feel it, the pulse of his cock as he filled you so completely that the mix of him and Heeseung spilled back out, dripping into a sticky mess beneath you.

It took a long moment before they both released you, your body sagging limp between them. You barely had the strength to move when Jake stepped forward, his hand already pumping his length with urgency, his eyes locked on your face. Sunghoon moved with him, their cocks standing tall, both of them crowding your view as you were laid down on your back.

"Open up, baby," Jake ordered.

Your lips parted, tongue falling out on instinct, the salty taste of precum already smearing across it as they fisted themselves harder. Their groans overlapped as thick spurts painted your cheeks, your forehead, your lips, dripping down your neck and into your hair. You swallowed what you could, eyes rolling back at the sheer dirtiness of it, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each ragged breath.

You stared blankly at the ceiling, vision hazy, ears ringing so loud it felt like you were underwater. Your head was spinning, the room tilting, but your body was already being turned again.

Your limbs flopped uselessly as Jake forced his cock back to hardness, guiding himself to your ass, while Heeseung gripped your legs wide, holding you open as though your exhaustion didn't matter.

One by one, they took their turns again, each of them sliding into your abused body, spilling more inside until it felt like there wasn't any part of you left untouched. Your mind was gone, floating somewhere else, your mouth hanging open without sound, and still, they didn't stop.

The last thing you remembered was Sunghoon's icy hands spreading your folds, his voice low with awe as he stared at the mess dripping from your swollen used pussy—thick white streams still spurting.

And then you passed out, swallowed by the overwhelming haze of pleasure and exhaustion, your body twitching even in unconsciousness, your mind lost in the aftershocks of everything they had done.

You woke with a body that felt heavier than stone, every inch aching. The room was quiet except for the soft snores surrounding you.

You shivered, realizing the air was cold against your damp hair and clammy skin, only to notice the weight of arms draped over you—two different hands anchoring you in place. One was around your waist, pulling you back into a solid chest, the other rested lazily on your hip.

You blinked hard, trying to gather yourself, and only then did you notice you were clothed, though barely. Someone had slipped a shirt over you, but it was hiked up high, baring most of your thighs. Heart pounding, you tilted your head, your breath catching when you saw Jay's face so close to yours. His features were peaceful, his brows relaxed, lips parted just slightly as a soft groan escaped him. Even in sleep, he pulled you tighter into his chest.

"What the fuck..." you whispered under your breath, pulse racing as heat rushed to your cheeks.

Your gaze dropped lower and froze. Sunghoon's head rested against your chest, lips slack and still attached to your nipple. His hand was curled around your waist too, fingers twitching. The memory of his face twisted in pleasure, his voice breaking with moans, hit you so hard that your thighs clenched instinctively.

You stifled a sound, your whole face burning.

Carefully, with your fingers trembling, you began to pry their hands off one by one, moving Jay's arm and slipping Sunghoon's hand back over his own body. It felt like sneaking out of something you weren't supposed to survive. But before you could breathe in relief, your eyes darted downward—and you almost screamed.

At the foot of the bed, sprawled across like he owned the space, was Jake. His cheek was pressed into the mattress, lips parted as he breathed heavily, his bare chest rising and falling. He looked so soft like this, so far from the rough, taunting voice that had wrecked you just hours ago.

Your stomach flipped.

"What the hell..." you whispered again, a little louder this time, biting your lip as panic swirled in your chest. You couldn't stay here. Not with the memories flashing in your head.

Ignoring the deep ache in your thighs and the heaviness weighing down your limbs, you tiptoed around them, snatching your heels and dress from the table. The sound of the zipper sliding into place echoed too loudly in your ears as you tried to dress as quietly as possible.

When you finally slipped out and pulled the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against it, exhaling sharply. Relief barely lasted a second before you froze again.

Someone was sitting in the living room.

Heeseung was perched on the couch, phone in hand, his tall frame hunched slightly forward. The glow of the screen lit his sharp features, but the second the door clicked shut, his head snapped up. His eyes widened as if he hadn't expected you to actually walk out. In a blur, he was standing, pocketing his phone.

"Hey," his voice came out softer than you remembered.

Your whole body stiffened, eyes wide, your pulse hammering in your throat. The room was quiet but the weight of his presence filled it, and you could feel your heart fluttering in panic—or maybe dangerously close to longing.

"It's just five-thirty," he said, glancing briefly at the window where the faintest gray of dawn was creeping in. "We finished at four. Are you... already leaving?"

Your throat was dry. Fuck. He was talking to you. Just standing there, bare-faced and raw from the night before, his voice carrying none of the arrogance it once did. You wanted to respond, but your mouth betrayed you, stuck in silence. You could only stare at him, your gaze trembling before you forced it away, too shy, too ashamed, too overwhelmed.

Heeseung shifted his weight, his Adam's apple bobbing as though he was working up the nerve. Then, in a tone that was almost uncertain, he asked, "Were we too rough?"

You blinked up at him, startled.

"I..." you started, but the words stuck.

His jaw tightened, eyes flickering before he let out a low sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture that didn't fit the man who had held you down hours earlier. His voice dropped lower, rough with regret. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to slap you like that. I just... I got carried away."

The sincerity in his tone, the way his eyes searched yours like he needed you to believe him, made your chest ache. You didn't trust yourself to speak, your throat felt raw, so you simply nodded, awkward and small, hoping it was enough.

"I—I... uh... shit." Heeseung's voice faltered.

He was fumbling, caught off guard by the weight of his own thoughts. For the first time, he seemed unsure.

Heeseung had always respected the girls they brought into this kind of mess, but responsibility was something he usually left to Jay, who carried gentleness. Yet with you, the urge was different. It was tugging at him in a way he couldn't ignore, and it unsettled him more than he'd ever admit.

His tongue darted over his lips, his brows knitting together as he shifted closer, still cautious of your fragile state. "Do you... want to leave? I—uh—I can get my car, or call someone, or—wait." He cut himself off, unsure what offer would make sense, what you even needed from him right now.

You shook your head quickly, your hands clinging to your heels. Your voice came out almost too small to hear, but you forced the words past your lips. "T-thank you. I-I can manage myself. Th-thank you... so much."

It was rushed, shaky, like you needed to get it out before your voice betrayed the truth of how fragile you felt. Without waiting for his response, you turned away, your bare feet carrying you in tiny, stumbling steps toward the door. Each step hurt, your body reminding you of everything from last night, but you pressed forward anyway, desperate to escape the heaviness in the room.

"Wait—what's your—" Heeseung started, his hand twitching forward as if he could reach you. But the words fell flat, caught in his throat, and he stopped himself before finishing. His lips pressed together in frustration, a quiet curse slipping under his breath. His eyes followed the curve of your back, the fragile sway of your shoulders, the sound of your unsteady footsteps echoing.

"...number."

The word left him softer than a whisper, too late, almost swallowed by the empty space you left behind.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at the door you'd just disappeared through, torn between running after you and letting you go. His jaw clenched, his hand raking through his hair as he sank back down onto the couch.

He couldn't shake the image of you—the way your eyes had rolled back in bliss, the way you had laughed in the middle of it all, the way you looked at him now as if you wanted to disappear.

And Heeseung felt a kind of defeat that left his chest heavy. First, he was pissed that Jay, of all people, had managed to pull your attention more than once that night. Second, he hadn't even gotten the chance to really enjoy you the way he wanted, not fully, not the way that would have been enough. And third—worst of all—he didn't even know your full name, or what department you were in, or anything beyond that single night where you'd let yourself unravel in his arms and under his hands.

"Fuck..." he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand over his face, frustrated at the gnawing ache in his chest. You were too pretty, too delicate, too intoxicating, and it infuriated him that Sunghoon and Jake had gotten their way with you first, splitting you open before he ever had the chance to claim you for himself. The thought of them having your "first" and sharing you so easily left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wanted you whole, wanted you alone, wanted more than the scraps of a night shared with three others.

Heeseung realized this wasn't just another nameless, faceless memory to throw away. He didn't want this to be the last time. He wanted more of you���your laugh, your trembling voice, your warmth pressed against him. The only thing he had left was the trace of your scent, still lingering faintly on his skin and in the air, that floral sweetness that he couldn't shake no matter how many showers he took. It drove him mad.

"Hey, I tried your perfume and it doesn't smell nearly as nice on me as it does on you." 

Your classmate pouted, watching you rub lotion into your arms after swim class. Her tone was playful, but her eyes lingered longer than usual, narrowing slightly at the fading bruises that scattered along your thighs.

"—Wait, are you okay? What's with all these marks?" she asked, her voice shifting, curious but edged with concern as her gaze dropped to your legs, then caught on your wrist where faint discoloration still traced your skin.

You forced a small smile, your hands moving carefully as though the weight of her stare could dig deeper into your body. "Anemia," you said lightly. "You know how it gets sometimes."

She frowned, unconvinced, but didn't press further. You focused on squeezing another bit of lotion into your palm, your thoughts drifting elsewhere. The bottle was nearly empty, and you hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should buy another or try something different.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since your body had been pushed to its limit, since you had let yourself fall apart in the arms, mouths, and cocks of four men who you never should have gotten tangled with.

As much as it thrilled you to remember, you knew it wasn't something you could ever share. Not with your classmates, not with anyone. This was yours alone.

And so, you smiled at your friend, pretending everything was normal, while inside, you cherished the memory of a night you swore you'd never tell.

You tied your damp hair back, the strands clinging to your neck as you tugged on a sweatshirt and shorts. A light mist of perfume lingered as you sprayed your wrists, your throat, the curve of your shoulder, even down your spine as though you could drown yourself in that sweet comfort.

"God, you smell so good again," your friend whined, fanning herself dramatically. You only chuckled and brushed her off, slipping your bag onto your shoulder before following the group.

The conversation turned quickly, as it always seemed to these days.

"How come those fuckboys keep throwing parties and we never hear a word after? It's like magic," one girl scoffed, and the others broke into agreement, voices overlapping with laughter.

"Right? I swear they must be fucking someone every time," another chimed in, clapping her hands for emphasis. "No way they're just drinking. But no one ever talks. Like—ever."

Their voices carried ahead of you while you trailed behind, smiling faintly, shaking your head as if their words were just another baseless rumor. Inside, though, your chest tightened. If only they knew. If only they could imagine half of what had happened that night. But you weren't about to let them. You had no intention of ever telling a single soul.

That night was a secret carved into you, and the four of them had reputations built on silence—no communication, no strings, no trace.

You sighed, crouching down to fix your shoelace, the chatter of your classmates fading as they moved further down the hall. One of them called your name over their shoulder, urging you to hurry, but before you could respond, the sound of measured steps came closer. A shadow cut across the floor in front of you.

You froze.

Slowly, your gaze lifted from the shoes planted right in front of you. And your heart stopped.

"Found you," a low voice drawled, threaded with satisfaction, almost a taunt.

Gasps erupted behind you, your classmates halting in their tracks.

Your eyes widened. Heeseung was really there, standing over you in broad daylight, surrounded by people, breaking his own rules without hesitation. You couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

Then, without warning, he crouched down in front of you. The tall, untouchable Heeseung—the one who ignored every girl who chased after him, who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with messy attention—was kneeling, his long fingers brushing over your loose shoelace.

"I had a hard time finding you," he muttered, not loud enough for anyone but you to hear. His tone was casual, but his jaw was tight, his movements sharp with frustration as he tied the knot in one clean motion. "It really pissed me off, you know?"

Your throat went dry. Heat crawled up your neck, spreading across your face until you felt the tips of your ears burn.

Why? Why was he here? Why was he talking to you? This wasn't the Heeseung everyone else knew. He never lowered himself like this—not in front of everyone, not where people could see. He shut girls down without a glance, his cold indifference the very thing that made them chase harder. Yet here he was, focused on you with an intensity that made your stomach twist.

Around you, your classmates whispered furiously, unable to hide their shock. Some covered their mouths, others exchanged wide-eyed looks, but no one dared step closer.

"Can we talk?" His voice was steady, but softer than you expected, almost coaxing.

When you finally dared to look at him, his eyes caught yours. They weren't the eyes of the cold, untouchable Heeseung everyone claimed to know. No, they were gentle, wide, almost disarming, like he was looking through you and not just at you. He smiled—small, sweet, almost shy—and your lips trembled against the sudden wave of nerves.

"H-Huh?" Your voice cracked embarrassingly.

Before you could gather yourself, he reached forward and plucked your bag from your shoulder. His hand found yours in the same motion, his long fingers curling around your palm. The contact made your knees weaken, a sharp rush of heat flooding your chest.

Heeseung was holding your hand. Heeseung, who never even let girls close enough to breathe the same air without brushing them off, was lacing his fingers with yours in front of everyone!

"Let's get out of here first, hmm?" His tone carried a teasing lilt, but his grip on your hand was firm.

You could hardly process as he tugged you gently in the opposite direction, away from your frozen classmates whose whispers grew louder. Each step with him felt surreal, like walking straight into a dream you weren't ready for but couldn't pull away from.

Then, as if to seal the knot of heaviness swirling in your chest, his head tilted close, his breath warm against your ear.

"It's now my turn to have you all to myself."

perm taglist: @tender-is-the-moon @gabrielinhaa @dulcetnostalgia @simbabyikeu @dreamycarat-recs @skzenhalove @graythecoffeebean @kiikiisblog @denleave1088 @matchacake2 @wonsveese @l4nnisworld @sieunah @ikeuheartz @heeshlove @archivedrose @smlbch @middstape @angelhyuka @dazedhee @scaramionee @si3rren @rosepetals09 @roslayy @mangoescrazy @arclviie @fancypeacepersona @immelissaaa @ikaw-at-ikaw @won4me @kristynaaah @tunafishyfishylike @heesmiles

[dazedhee]

i really can’t get over how TALENTED of a writer you are🙇‍♀️

ONE OF THE GIRLS — ksn

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who's that guy?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least, that's what he told himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake nudged him. "You good?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raised your brows. "Changed your mind?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your smile widened, "anytime, pretty boy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay," you said. "Sorry."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My shirt's in the living room—"

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

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

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

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

"You're hard."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You waited. "Never what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4 Months Later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sunghoon, stop," you muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunoo blinked. "Bon Jovi?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jay shrugged. "Whatever. You asked."

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

"Wow, you look really good, girl."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sunoo?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's not the point—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

• ───────────────── •

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I thought you hated pop songs."

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

"But you sang the hell out of it."

"Don't push it," you warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gave another tired smile. "Not really my priorities lately," you replied, brushing your fingers over your wrist, suddenly aware of how cold your skin felt. "I'm glad he's graduating though. That's good for him."

There was a pause. Jake didn't seem to notice, already moving on with a laugh.

"What about you?" you asked before he could dig any deeper. "When's your graduation? I pity you guys. I still have two years."

Jake groaned, rubbing his face. "Ugh, don't remind me. I'm stressing because my coat won't fit."

You laughed softly as Jake rambled beside you, jumping from topic to topic like someone trying to make up for lost time. He was always like this—talkative, friendly, too eager. You tried your best to follow along, nodding when appropriate, giving short answers even though your energy was already hanging by a thread. Every bone in your body felt heavy after the performance, your shoulders stiff from standing so long, your throat dry even after the water.

He launched into another round of questions, asking about your gigs, your commissions, and whether or not you'd finally taken time off. Then, inevitably, he brought up Park Sunghoon.

"People still think we're together? Fuck that shit." You let out a grunt.

"They just like to talk," Jake offered with a shrug, as if that made it any less irritating. "You know how it is."

You rolled your eyes and tucked the bills into your bag, already thinking about what cheap meal you could get on the way home. "Then they should talk about how I'm not interested in anyone right now. Spread that."

"Not even Shin Ryujin?" he said, clearly enjoying how far he could push the conversation. "I swear you used to have the biggest, fattest crush on her. I mean—she agreed to model for you! That's a move, right?"

You tilted your head slightly. "Or maybe she just liked my art."

Jake paused for a beat, as if waiting for you to say more, but you didn't. He smirked, already forming a thought to your answer. You just shrugged, like you didn't care anymore, you wish it did. None of them ever made you feel the way he did.

Let Jake think what he wanted to think. Let people gossip and spread whatever they wanted. You were too tired to keep defending your disinterest, too tired to explain that the only person you'd really wanted was Kim Sunoo. Fucking Kim Sunoo.

And ironically, the universe had its own cruel sense of humor.

Jake didn't expect to see Sunoo the very next day—standing in front of a flower shop. Without warning, Jake squealed and slapped him on the back so hard that Sunoo's entire frame jolted forward. His eyes flew wide, mouth parting in surprise as he turned to glare.

"Fuck you," Jake laughed, hitting him again before he could dodge. "Who's the lucky person, huh? Don't tell me you're finally confessing to someone?"

Sunoo winced, rubbing his stinging shoulder and trying not to groan. "Can you not hit so hard? Shit."

It had taken him three whole days just to muster up the courage. Three days of Jungwon talking sense into him, helping him run through scenarios and worst-case outcomes, of typing and deleting countless drafts of what he wanted to say. Three days of checking your schedule like a lovesick stalker, memorizing the time and place of your fashion show just to make sure he'd catch you when you weren't buried in fabrics or fixing last-minute outfits.

He didn't really know what he was doing. The idea of bringing flowers felt old-fashioned, maybe even stupid, but he clung to it because it gave him something to hold—something to fill his trembling hands with when he finally stood in front of you. Because if he admitted it to himself, he really fucking missed you.

Jake, as usual, wouldn't shut up. He rambled about school, his thesis, some fight in a group chat he got dragged into, asking random questions in between like Sunoo was giving him the attention he wanted. Sunoo tapped his foot impatiently, nodding absently, eyes flicking to his wristwatch. He knew your show was scheduled to start soon. Jungwon had confirmed it just last night. If he moved now, he could probably sneak into the venue and find you. He wasn't sure how it would go, but he knew he didn't want to delay it any longer.

But then, Jake said your name.

"She looked so good last night, by the way. I talked to her after her gig," he said, chewing on his gum, unaware of the way Sunoo's shoulders tensed. "And I think she's dating that model of hers."

Sunoo stopped tapping his foot. Slowly turned to face him. Jake kept going. "You know Park Sunghoon? He really, really likes her! But she's totally into this girl—Shin Ryujin. If Sunghoon finds out he got rejected again for a girl, he's gonna be pissed."

The bouquet almost slipped out of Sunoo's hands. "Wait, what?" he asked.

Jake blinked, startled by the shift in tone. "Well, I mean—not confirmed or anything. But it looked like it, right? I mean, come on! If you know Ryujin, she's hot! They had crazy chemistry onstage."

But Sunoo didn't hear the rest. His pulse pounded so loudly in his ears it drowned everything else. The bouquet in his hands felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, the crinkling paper suddenly unbearable beneath his tightening grip. He could feel that familiar burn in his chest. The weight pressing down on his lungs, stealing the air from him. It wasn't just surprise, or confusion. It was anger.

No. That can't be true. Jake said it wasn't confirmed. He said maybe. But even maybe was too much for Sunoo.

Because that wasn't just anyone. That was you. His you. Even if he hadn't been able to say it properly before, even if he spent weeks keeping his distance, fumbling over his feelings, even if he was too much of a coward to tell you when he should've—he never once stopped wanting you.

And the idea of someone else having you, touching you, making you smile the way he used to, hurt more than he thought it would. His stomach twisted with jealousy. His mind raced with every memory he had of you—your laugh, your stubbornness, the way you always acted like nothing touched you until he looked close enough to see it did. He hated the thought of anyone else getting that close. It didn't matter if it was a guy or a girl. No one else could understand you like he did. No one else deserved to.

"I need to go," Sunoo muttered, already turning on his heel.

Jake blinked again, stepping forward. "Wait, go where? Sunoo—hey!"

But Sunoo didn't answer. He didn't look back. He walked faster, feet moving, bouquet still clenched tightly in his hand.

All he could think about was the image of you standing beside someone else. Laughing for someone else. Looking at them with the kind of softness you used to show only to him. The thought alone made his blood boil. He wasn't just jealous. He was angry. How dare someone else think they could have you like that?

No. That's not how this ends. He wouldn't let it. Even if it was his fault for waiting this long, even if he messed everything up from the beginning—he wasn't going to let someone else win. He wasn't going to stand on the sidelines any longer. Not when he still had something to fight for.

You were his. You've always been his. And he was going to prove it.

Sunoo made his way toward the university, his stomach twisting with every step. Most of the Fashion Design majors were still holed up on campus despite the start of summer break, preparing for the big event. He didn't know fashion shows involved this many people, this much movement, or noise. Navigating through all of it felt like trying to breathe underwater. He should've asked Jungwon for more specifics.

The halls were lined with racks of clothes, students rushing in and out of rooms, arms full of fabrics, makeup brushes, clipboards, and coffee. Sunoo tried to ask where the waiting room was, but everyone was too preoccupied to answer. He turned corner after corner, scanning every face with increasing frustration—until his eyes landed on someone painfully familiar.

Standing outside the theater room, arms crossed and relaxed was Park Sunghoon. Just seeing him made Sunoo's eye twitch. His jaw clenched so tightly he thought it might crack.

"Sunoo, right?" Sunghoon greeted him, smiling as if they were old friends. Sunoo glanced down at the flowers in his hands. Suddenly, they looked ugly. The colors didn't look as soft anymore. The petals looked dull. He couldn't believe he ever fell for a face like that.

He forced a polite sweet smile, his lips twitching with the effort. "Sunghoon," he returned. "Where do fashion majors usually stay? I need to deliver this to someone." His tone stayed casual, but he had to bite down the irritation growing inside his chest.

Sunghoon beamed. "Oh! I was just heading to the backstage area too. Come with me."

Sunoo's jaw ached with how hard he was grinding his teeth behind another fake smile. Every muscle in his body screamed to walk the other way, but he needed to get to you. If that meant dealing with this guy, so be it. Still, it took everything in him not to roll his eyes or punch the smirk off Sunghoon's face. How dare he stand there so casually, acting like he belonged beside you?

"Is the eyelash glue irritating your eyes?" you asked Ryujin, checking the final touches of her makeup. Your fingers hovered near her temples, adjusting the corner of her lashes even though they looked fine. "And your heels? Are they stable?"

"They're fine, I promise. You don't have to worry," she said gently, offering a small smile.

You turned to Beomgyu, voice tighter this time. "The fabric on the lining—is it itchy? Are you uncomfortable at all?"

Beomgyu tilted his head at you like he was trying not to laugh. "You need to stop freaking out. I already told you I feel great in this."

Your chest was heavy with nerves, and your stomach churned, not just with anxiety but with the familiar, dull pain of your first-day period cramps that made everything ten times worse. The weight of responsibility was pressing on your shoulders. What if the seams tore? What if the models tripped? What if the fabric wrinkled wrong under the lights?

And before you could spiral further, a voice cut through your thoughts. One you recognized instantly.

"Sunghoon," you said wearily, not even trying to hide the exhaustion in your voice.

He stood there with a smile too bright for the atmosphere, holding out a bouquet of flowers to you. "Good luck later! I know you're going to get so many compliments for this."

You took the flowers without much thought, fingers curling around the stems as you exhaled through your nose, trying to keep yourself from snapping. You closed your eyes, drawing in a deeper breath. "Why are you here?" you muttered, already rubbing your temple. "This is our waiting room. You shouldn't be—"

"I came with Sunoo!" Sunghoon interrupted brightly. "Didn't know he was your friend too!"

And that stopped you. Your body tensed instantly. The flowers in your hand suddenly felt like they were cutting into your skin. You looked up, already feeling your throat tighten. And there he was.

Sunoo approached you slowly. Without saying a word, he reached out and gently took the flowers from your hand—the ones Sunghoon had just given—and replaced them with the bouquet he brought. Then, with a calm that felt almost too controlled, he handed the previous bouquet back to Sunghoon, whose brows furrowed in confusion.

Your fingers stayed frozen around the fresh flowers now in your hands. Sunoo stepped closer, voice dropping low as he met your eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Can we talk?"

Something in your chest pulled tight. You forced yourself to swallow the lump rising in your throat, jaw tensing as you tried to stay composed. You could already feel Ryujin and Beomgyu watching silently, even as Sunghoon stood there, confused and observant, his brows lifted like he could sense there was something here. "I'll be back," you muttered under your breath, barely glancing at them. Then, turning to Sunoo, you gestured with a subtle wave of your hand for him to follow.

You walked fast, ignoring how your heart was pounding too hard in your chest. The backstage halls were tight and filled with noise, but the moment you stepped into the music room and closed the door behind you, everything else faded out. The silence between you was loud. "What are you doing here, Sunoo?" you asked, turning to face him. You hated how soft your voice sounded. You hated that he still had that effect on you.

Sunoo didn't answer right away. He just looked at you, his lips parted, trying to decide how to speak, what words wouldn't end in a disaster. Then he said, carefully, "Is it true? That you're dating your model?"

You blinked. That's what this was about? You let out a harsh breath and rolled your eyes, pressing the heels of your palms into your forehead. "Seriously? That's why you're here?"

He flinched at the tone. "Is it true?" he repeated, almost like he was afraid to hear the answer. "You and your model. Are you—"

"Where the fuck did you even hear that?" you snapped, your patience finally cracking. "You think I'd seriously let rumors decide who I'm sleeping with now?"

Sunoo opened his mouth to speak, but you didn't let him. "Why are you even here, Sunoo?" you pushed. "To say sorry? To wave some flowers around and pretend like that's enough?"

He didn't answer. He just stood there, looking at you, his silence impossibly loud. You exhaled, your shoulders sinking with the weight you'd been carrying alone since he left. Your voice dropped out of emotional exhaustion. "I'm tired," you whispered, almost like admitting defeat. "I have a show to finish. I have deadlines. People are counting on me. And if all you came here for was a half-hearted apology, then don't bother—because I've stopped thinking about that night."

But your voice cracked on the last word, and you hated that he might've heard it. "I still think about that night." He said and that made your heart clench.

"You were right," he said quietly. "I came here to say sorry." He looked at you fully now. "And to tell you that I want to make you mine."

You blinked, stunned. "What?"

Sunoo stepped forward, his voice trembling even though he tried to sound certain. "I hurt you. I pushed you away. I made you cry and I said things I'll never stop regretting. I ran because I was scared, and I was selfish enough to believe I could come back when it was convenient for me."

And then, to your absolute disbelief, he lowered himself to the floor, dropping to his knees. His hands found yours, gently curling around your fingers, then pressing your palm to his face. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into your touch. "Every time I close my eyes, it's you," he murmured. "Every time I wake up, I hope it's a day I get to see you again. It's always you. "

Even though his voices cracked, Sunoo pushed through it. "I hated seeing that Sunghoon guy give you flowers. I hated thinking about you with your model even if it's not true. Because I want to be the one. I want to be the person you choose, over and over again, even when I don't deserve it. Even when it's hard, and messy, and complicated."

"I didn't come here just to be forgiven," he continued, voice cracking now as his forehead nearly pressed against your hand. "I came because I want you. Because I love you. And because if there's even a part of you—any small part—that still wants me, then I'll do whatever it takes to prove that I'm worth that second chance." He looked up at you, eyes glistening, his knees still on the ground.

You didn't realize you were crying until you felt the tear slide down your cheek. The warmth of it startled you. No matter how much you tried to build walls around yourself, he had always been able to slip through. Even now.

He looked up at you from where he knelt, eyes glassy, red-rimmed. Your fingers trembled in his hands, but you didn't pull away. "You hurt me, Sunoo."

His expression broke completely, a quiet whimper escaping from his lips as he held your hands tighter, desperate. "I know," he choked out. "And I hate myself for that. I'd take it all back if I could. But I can't... so all I can do now is ask you to let me fix what I ruined."

The silence stretched again, before he whispered, almost breathlessly, "...Please?"

That single word cracked something inside you. You sniffled, blinking fast as more tears welled in your eyes, and without thinking, you slowly lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. You leaned in, heart pounding wildly, and kissed him. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't desperate. It was tender—heartbreaking in its softness, and yet full of everything you'd been holding back. The pain, the longing, the anger, the love—it was all there, pressed into the seal of your lips against his.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, both of your eyes closed, breath mingling in the small space between you. "I never stopped wanting you," you whispered, your voice hoarse from the tears. "Even when I tried. Even when I told myself I should."

He shuddered at your words, his breath catching, fingers lifting to cup your cheeks. "I swear I'll spend every day proving I can be someone you deserve," he murmured.

You nodded faintly, your forehead still resting against his. Then, slowly, you leaned in again, brushing your lips against his—soft at first, searching, before you kissed him fully. This time, you didn't hold back. Your lips moved against his with purpose, and he responded just as eagerly, his head tilting to meet you, to match your rhythm.

When you deepened the kiss and your tongue slipped into his mouth, his breath hitched. He moaned softly, the sound catching in his throat as he melted further into you, hands tightening at your sides. "I missed you," he whispered breathlessly between kisses.

You smiled into his mouth, sniffling as your hands cupped his damp cheeks, wiping at the tears that kept trailing down. "Missed you too," you whispered, your voice breaking as you kissed him again, even longer this time. Your fingers curled around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

He kissed you like he was making up for lost time, like every second he spent away from you had left him starving. His hands slid gently under your arms before he lifted you and your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. You could feel the way his breathing picked up as he moved, sitting down on the old couch in the corner of the room, never letting his lips stray too far from yours.

You settled on his lap, knees bracketing his hips, your mouths still moving together in sync. You could feel the way his body was reacting—how tightly he held you, how his hands gripped your back. "I love you," he whispered against your lips.

Your breath caught, your heart thudding as he pressed a trail of kisses down your neck, slow and open-mouthed. His hands, once tentative, slid to your chest, cupping you through your clothes before he gently kneaded one breast in his palm. The sensation made you shiver, your back arching into his touch instinctively as you sucked in a breath.

"Say it again," you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut.

He leaned back just enough to look up at you, both hands still resting on your waist. "I love you. I'm not letting you go again."

You leaned forward to kiss him again, your lips brushing over his. His fingers slipped under your shirt, tugging it up carefully, revealing the curve of your breast and the soft lace of your bra. His breath hitched when he saw your nipple, the silver glint of the heart-shaped piercing catching the light. He paused, stunned, swallowing hard, the outline of his arousal now pressing clearly against his pants.

"W-wait," you breathed, your hands clutching at his shoulders as his face dipped lower. "It's not fully healed yet..."

Sunoo froze, his lips just grazing the swell of your breast. He pressed the gentlest kiss on your areola, lips lingering as his thumb toyed with the other nipple through your bra, tracing slow circles that made your hips twitch above him. Your body reacted, grinding slightly against the solid pressure beneath you. His breath grew ragged against your skin, hands sliding up your back, holding you tighter.

You rocked your hips against him with slow pressure, letting the friction build until the heat between your bodies felt like it might burn right through your skin. His hands moved restlessly, tugging at your waistband, already working to unbutton your pants.

But your hand caught his wrist, halting him. "N-No... we can't," you murmured, your voice ragged from panting. You glanced down at him beneath you—his brows were drawn together in frustration and confusion, his face flushed with heat, sweat starting to gather along his hairline, and his lips—red and kiss-swollen—were parted.

"I... I have my period."

He blinked, then tilted his head slightly like he couldn't understand why that would matter. His hand slid back down, cupping you through the fabric of your underwear, right over your pad. You gasped, the heat of his touch making your body tense with shame and anticipation. Your cheeks flared hot with embarrassment.

"I-It's not clean," you whispered, voice wavering. "It's messy..."

"And?" he muttered, his gaze never left your face. Without waiting for your approval, his hand dipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, carefully maneuvering around the pad as his fingers brushed against your pussy.

His finger slipped in, and your jaw dropped open, a soft cry catching in your throat. The feeling was slow, filling, a deliberate push deeper until he bottomed out and curled his finger inside you, testing your sensitivity. "You know," he began, "orgasms help relieve cramps. The body releases endorphins that ease pain. It's not gross... it's your body asking for what it needs."

You whimpered, unable to argue. Especially not when his finger began to move—slow at first, then building pace, retreating and sinking back in until your hips were grinding helplessly against his palm. Each stroke hit something deeper than just your body, pulling breathy moans from your throat.

"S-Sunoo—" you choked, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. His other hand slid up your shirt again, pushing the fabric away so he could lean in and press his mouth to your chest. His lips wrapped around the soft swell of your breast, and the sharp contrast of your piercing against his tongue made him groan. "I-It's gross."

"No, it's not." He whisper, biting your neck, tongue swirling at it, he mumbled against your skin before adding another finger, spreading you wider. "It's hot. You're hot."

Your only answer was a louder moan, your thighs trembling as you rode his fingers, your body clenching around him. The pressure inside you coiled tighter and tighter, until everything snapped all at once. You came hard, body clenching around him as your head tilted back, breath stuttering and vision swimming.

Sunoo shifted you easily, guiding your body until you were bent over the couch, his grip firm and sure as he moved you exactly how he wanted. But then he stilled, breath catching when his eyes landed on your back. His palm slid over your spine, tracing the ink.

"Fuck," he hissed. You felt the way his fingers trembled slightly, how he cupped your hips and coaxed you into an arch, dragging his touch down the trail of black lines and crimson lilies that ran from your shoulder blades to the curve of your lower back. "You always know how to drive me crazy... and now you go and get this?"

You tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked sound as he pulled your pants lower, exposing the heat between your legs. He groaned behind you, dragging the tip of himself along your entrance, already soaked and messy, your blood mixing with everything else. It should've made you feel embarrassed but instead, it only made the tension between you burn hotter.

"Please," you breathed, turning your head just enough to look at him over your shoulder.

Sunoo didn't need to be told twice. He eased into you slowly, his body pressing close, chest flush against your back as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, anchoring you to him. His breath stuttered against your skin, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he moved deeper, his other hand gripping your waist so tightly.

Your eyes caught sight of his hand, streaked with red from earlier, and instead of disgust, all you felt was a strange kind of thrill that twisted low in your belly. You clenched around him involuntarily, another moan slipping from your lips.

He kissed your jaw, then your cheek, then finally your mouth again, hungrily this time, tongue sliding against yours as his hips found a faster rhythm. His hands trembled where they held you, but his movements were certain, desperate. "Ah—fuck—I love you," he gasped, his voice cracking open as the pace quickened. "I love you so much. So fucking much."

Your breath caught, heart slamming in your chest. "Sunoo—wait—" your voice was barely audible between moans, "you're not wearing—ah—no condom—!"

He stilled for a second, his breath rough in your ear. But instead of pulling away, he leaned in closer, murmuring, "I know."

Your pussy clenched around him on instinct, as if reacting to the rawness of it all, to the fact that he was really inside you like this. The feeling of his bare cock dragging against your soaked walls was overwhelming, hotter, slicker. Your eyes rolled back as a loud moan escaped your throat, your fingers tightening on whatever they could grab.

"F-fuck," he whimpered, as your walls fluttered around him. Sunoo sounded like he was unraveling in real time. His hands gripped your waist harder, his breath shaking as he slowly pushed back in, deeper this time. He whined against your skin, overwhelmed, almost breathless at how good it felt. "I missed you. Missed this—missed you so fucking much."

His voice cracked, raw emotion bleeding into every word. "Don't leave again, hmm? Please. I'll treat you better this time. I swear—I love you. Fuck, I love you. I'm so fucking in love with you."

He didn't give you time to answer. His fingers slid down between your thighs, finding your clit without hesitation, rubbing slow, dizzying circles that made your knees buckle. His cock hit your g-spot mercilessly and your voice broke into a scream, loud and unfiltered, but you didn't care—the music room was soundproof, and even if it wasn't, you wouldn't have stopped him.

"S-Sunoo—I'm gonna cum," you choked out, your voice hoarse, hips jerking uncontrollably from the way his fingers pressed harder into your clit. Your pussy clenched down around him, and the orgasm crashed into you so fast it nearly knocked you off your feet. Your whole body shook and your thighs quivered, but Sunoo held you tight through it, one hand gripping your waist as the other kept you grounded, kept fucking into you with more force, chasing his own high.

"God, I love you, my baby," he whined. His hips started stuttering, the sound of skin slapping echoing faintly against the padded walls, getting messier, needier. "C-can I cum inside you? Please—let me?"

You couldn't speak at first, just nodded frantically, your fingers digging into his arm where it hugged around your waist. "Yes," you breathed, still panting, "Yes, yes—Sunoo, please—cum in me. I love you."

He let out the loudest, rawest moan of the night, something close to a sob, his whole body tensing as he came hard. You could feel it flood inside you, the warmth of it thick and hot as he kept fucking you through it, like he couldn't stop, like he needed to push it deeper, make sure it stayed.

Even after he was spent, his hips kept rocking slowly into you. His cum leaked around his cock, dripping down your thighs, and still he stayed buried inside, forehead resting against your shoulder, breath warm on your skin.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment, just the sound of ragged breathing filling the space between kisses—gentle ones now. He kissed your neck, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. "I love you," he murmured, then kissed your temple, eyes shut, holding you.

You turned in his arms, legs shaky, body still pulsing from the aftershocks, and cupped his face with both hands, pulling him into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. "I love you too," you whispered.

EPILOGUE

Sunoo made his way to the stage with a confidence he hadn't felt in a long time, holding up his medal and certificate for the photographer with a proud grin. Applause echoed through the auditorium, and for a moment, all the weight he had carried over the years—every sleepless night, every self-doubt, every quiet breakdown—seemed worth it. Sitting down on the chair at the side of the stage, his heart swelled with something deeper than relief. He wasn't just happy—he felt fulfilled. Things were finally going his way, and more than that, he had done it on his own terms.

"You look so good—God, I love your makeup!" Giselle said beside him, nudging him with her shoulder. He turned to her with that signature Sunoo smile, wide and sweet. "Your blush is perfect. It suits you so well," she added.

He smiled softly, cheeks glowing with more than just the highlighter dusted on them. "Thanks. My girlfriend did my makeup."

Giselle blinked, then gasped. "Wait—did I hear that right?"

Sunoo didn't respond, just chuckled to himself. When the program ended and the crowd was released into the open hall, he barely waited before slipping into the crowd, eyes scanning eagerly for one person. He weaved through clusters of families and graduates, ignoring the flashes of cameras, until his eyes finally landed on you. His whole face lit up instantly.

Without a second thought, he squealed and ran straight into your arms, wrapping you in a tight, all-consuming hug. You squealed too, and the sound made a few people turn their heads, curious. But Sunoo didn't care. You were in his arms, and that was all that mattered.

"Congratulations, my love!" you beamed, pinching both his cheeks before kissing his forehead.

He immediately slapped your hands away with a playful pout. "Stop! You're gonna mess up my makeup."

You laughed and leaned in. "I could always retouch it, dummy. I was the one who did it, remember?"

Sunoo squinted, finally taking a proper look at you now that he wasn't rushed or nervous. You had left before him earlier, after helping with his look, and now he was seeing you fully—your hair tied neatly in a bun, soft clean makeup that felt too tame for you, and a bright, modest outfit that covered every inch of your skin.

His gaze lingered. "You... took off your piercing?"

You nodded and gave a small shrug, your smile faltering. "Yeah. I figured... maybe you'd want me to look presentable today. Like, for your big day. It felt like the right thing to do."

He tilted his head slowly, eyes narrowing as he looked you over again. "Presentable?" he repeated. "I love the way you look with your piercings on, your tattoos showing, your red lipstick. That's you."

Your chest tightened, emotion catching in your throat so fast you couldn't even respond with words. Instead, you stepped forward and hugged him again, burying your face into his neck as your arms wound around his waist. "I love you," you whispered against his skin.

Sunoo's eyes widened slightly. Then slowly, he melted into your hug, wrapping his arms around you just as tightly. He rested his chin on your shoulder, and for a moment. "I love you more," he murmured softly. Then, pulling back a little to meet your eyes, his brows furrowed. "Wait—did I make you feel like I didn't want you to be yourself? Like I was forcing you to be someone else? I'm sorry."

You shook your head, tears beginning to pool despite the smile on your lips. "No... It wasn't you. I just... I didn't want to mess anything up today. I thought maybe if I toned myself down, it'd be easier."

Sunoo's eyes shone with emotion as he wiped your tears with his thumbs. "You could never mess anything up just by being yourself," he whispered. "Especially not with me. I want you loud, and messy, and bright. I want you with the piercings, with the tattoos, with whatever the hell makes you feel like you. That's the person I want beside me, every day. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like I was changing you. Forgive me, hmm?"

You leaned into his touch, forehead resting against his. "Then I'll never tone myself down again."

"Good," he smiled, brushing a kiss to your nose. "Because we've got a lot more milestones coming. And I want all of them with the real you."

You laughed lightly, the tension in your chest finally melting as you cradled his face. "Our only problem now is how to tell Jake without him fainting."

That made Sunoo snort before leaning in again to kiss you properly, his smile still pressed to your lips. You could hear a few surprised gasps from the crowd nearby, but you didn't care—and clearly, neither did he.

"It's fine," he whispered playfully, nuzzling close again. "We'll just plan a sleepover. That way, when he faints, we'll already be somewhere private... and have all the time in the world to celebrate without interruptions."

You smirked, squeezing his hand as it found yours. "I have a gift for you later when we get home."

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he raised a brow. "Hmm... A blowjob?"

You gave his shoulder a soft shove, rolling your eyes with a laugh. "No, not that, idiot."

He broke into a laugh too, the sound warm and carefree, then reached for your waist and pulled you in close again. His hand rested securely there, thumb drawing small circles, grounding you both in that moment. "Thank you for loving me as I am," he whispered against your ear. "Even on the days I forget how to love myself."

You leaned in, letting your head fall against his shoulder, smiling as his lips pressed a kiss to your temple. "I love you in every version of you, Sunoo," you whispered, and you meant every word.

The two of you continued walking hand in hand through the crowd. And if someone had asked you what you were feeling at that exact moment you would've said that you were in love. You were content, completely at peace with who you were and who you were becoming. And more than anything, you were happy, so much more happier than ever. Because Sunoo was beside you.

END.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

permanent taglist: @tender-is-the-moon @gabrielinhaa @dulcetnostalgia @simbabyikeu @dreamycarat-recs @skzenhalove @graythecoffeebean @kiikiisblog denleave1088 @taesnumber1 @casualtreatynightmare matchacake2 ninistranaut wonsveese l4nnisworld sieunah ikeuheartz heeshlove babydefendorpaper archivedros smlbch middstape angelhyuka dazedhee heesminee3 scaramionee si3rren rosepetals09 roslayy @mangoescrazy @arclviie @prttygrl-world @fancypeacepersona @immelissaaa @ikaw-at-ikaw @won4me @kristynaaah @tunafishyfishylike @vvenusoncasual

fic taglist: underyang v1shwa-xo kittyhoon engeneheree searenjun amorlisha smarteoasis seongiewon sofiafromvenus nyxtwixx annovaz schniti-is-in-the-house sbijks lovingjongseong beaepa nuggets4lifers

[dazedhee]

this slow burn>>>>>>

MAKE YOU MINE — PJS

You’re an Omega with rare, selective instincts, untouched by every Alpha you've ever met. That is, until you catch a scent that stops you cold and ignites a hunger you’ve never known. It leads you straight to Park Jongseong—the quiet Alpha who barely acknowledges your existence. Now, every encounter becomes a quiet war with your own body. You try to ignore the pull, and yet, you can’t shake the fear that he might be the only Alpha your instincts will ever respond to… and the only one your heart will ever want.

content tags/warnings: omegaverse (alpha!jay x omega!reader), slooowburn, emotional angst, female pursuer trope, pinning, marking, touch starved mc, nonchalant jay, she fell first and he fell HARDER trope. uhm humor?... pick me behavior, looots of second hand embarassment. eventual smut (explicit warnings will be listed on the chapter), long ass wc so brace yourself. MDNI.

note: if you are not into complicated characters with deep internal conflicts then this might be the story for you. feedback is welcome, but hate toward any characters will not be tolerated—any such behavior will be reported and blocked immediately.

1: MAKE ME YOURS ─── you want him? soo hard to get him.

2: PROVE I'M YOURS ─── and... the table has been turned.

2.2: I'M YOURS... OR NOT? (RATED M)

3: ALWAYS YOURS ─── just confused alpha trying to "emotionally communicate".

ꨄ︎ JAY'S PLAYLIST — YOUR PLAYLIST

ABO VOCABULARY

#TAGLIST: CLOSED

[dazedhee]

hi guys <3 i promise i have not abandoned my ongoing enhypen ao3 fics list!! there just haven’t been many that i’ve found recently that do it for me LMAOOO like i’ve been SEARCHING since february (it’s getting quite depressing) but as soon as i find some good ones that are worth reading, i will update the list 🙂

[dazedhee]

✮ for my nichojoo enthusiasts: my fav euijoo + nicholas ao3 fics (&team)✮

*disclaimer: these fics are mxm & contain 18+ content! mdni!*

list updated: 4/9/25

————————————————————

✮ - edge of the ocean by soobun

✮ - sweet like by wolfmoons (ittybittyjules)

✮ - we’re so far from the top by brixlight

✮ - velvet mood by iftheicemelts

✮ - carve me like one of your clay creations by artinars

✮ - omakase by soobun

✮ - hunger & nothing less by moonsaem

✮ - lunar eclipse by stairfryer

✮ - guilty as sin? by microplastic

✮ - pretender by microplastic

————————————————————

i’ve just recently gotten more into &team and so far, nichojoo are my favorite ship to read <333 hopefully all of the links work for you guys!!

[dazedhee]

i can already tell this is gonna be one of my fav series😌🤞🏼

taste of indulgence - sjy, pjs

SUMMARY: Sex should've been the most electrifying experience. But for you, no matter how much you indulge, it's always the same—the burning, the discomfort, the frustration of never getting there. So when another couple invites you into their bed, you wonder—Will indulgence finally taste the way it should?

PAIRING: bisexual jay and jake x pansexual reader

WARNING: explicit content warnings are listed on each chapter, HEAVY smut everyone is either gay or fruity, threesome (switch jake, mean dom jay x sub reader), some scenes are slightly dubcon. there will be mxm anal sex. don't like? don't read. MDNI!

CHAPTER 1 – SO BITTER

— Getting invited into bed with two insanely hot guys? A dream come true. Sim Jaehyun is everything you’ve ever fantasized about, soft, sweet, impossible to resist. And his boyfriend? Park Jongseong is the perfect mix of manly, dominant, and dangerously addictive.

So when they invited you to join their bed activities, you can't argue to say no despite of your situation. Who could blame you? They're insanely sexy and they're the ones insisting. They want you there. So why the hell is Jay acting so bitter about it?

TASTE HERE

CHAPTER 2 – OOPS, IT'S SOUR

— The sex was good. So fucking good. But somehow, Jay is making things difficult afterward. His sharp comments, his rough attitude, the way he keeps looking at you like you’re something he regrets. Annoying. Irritating. You need to be careful with the way you talk 'cause— oops, it's sour.

TASTE HERE

CHAPTER 3 – WHY ARE YOU SO SALTY?

This was supposed to be just sex. No feelings. No attachments. What happens in bed, stays in bed. Jake and Jay are perfect together—an undeniably loving couple. They have everything. Ever since the start, you're just a third person, but fuck, why are you so salty?

TASTE HERE

CHAPTER 4 - SHOW ME SPICY

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CHAPTER 5 - TOO SWEET

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wanna be added on taglist? just comment down.

[dazedhee]

can a talented writer on this wonderful app please write a fic of this dream i just had 😔✊🏻

[dazedhee]

oh my lord 🧎🏼‍♀️

i CANNOT fucking do this

[dazedhee]

one of my fav reads 🤞🏼

skin on skin

PAIRING ➩ jake x reader

GENRE ➩ religious corruption au, church boy jake au, evil reader

WARNINGS ➩ heavy criticism of religion in an extreme exaggerated manner, manipulation, multiple smut scenes, the mc is straight up mean and evil and says mean things all the time lol. parental and spousal abuse… think that’s it maybe lol it’s an intense read

WC ➩ 20.4k (😵‍💫)

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ the spacing is a bit weird because apparently this exceeded the length amount in tumblr… i don’t care about your think pieces on religion or the way it’s discussed in this so please don’t try to educate me on the actual ways of christianity! it’s a story! that being said this is in no way making a mockery of jake and his religion. this is my favorite story ive ever done and i had a good time writing it which is rare lately so i really hope you enjoy it and if you make it to the end let me know what you think! hope you like it as much as i do

It wasn’t like you came out of the womb with horns and a little forked tail.

The nurses didn’t scream in terror and your mother didn’t faint at the sight of you, it wasn’t some grand discovery that anybody could see or anybody could plan for.

You made it through your formative years relatively normal, or at least as normal as you could be considering who your father was. But it wasn’t until middle school when you realized how different kids would treat you because of this.

Those were your favorite years you could remember. The half decade before anybody cared, or knew enough to care, what it meant for you to be who you were. Then you were old enough to have consciousness and design your own set of morals, something all the parents in your town dreaded.

Your town was barely that, more so a few neighborhoods sprawled across barren lands with more fields and trees than concrete and signs of the modern world that had seemingly developed everywhere, except for where you’d been born.

Sometimes you wondered if you’d been cursed to stay here forever. It seemed like everybody who was born here, died here, but unlike you they all seemed pretty content with this fact. Proud even, the elders stating the amount of years and generations they’d own their rusty old homes like it didn’t create a nasty pit in your stomach.

Time was frozen and the world had moved on, leaving all 2,000 of you behind to die and birth and die again until eventually the last generation killed themselves off in an act of sympathy, a mercy slaughter.

It was probably immoral to be thinking about your entire town dying whilst in church. But you didn’t think much about the implication of having sinful thoughts anywhere, regardless of how many crosses were currently burning stares into your back.

More than 70% of your life was spent inside these four walls, on this exact weathered seat on this same old pew.

See, when turned 12 years old and the kids at school made you aware of the fact your dad was the lead preacher at the only church in town, you figured this made you some sort of royalty.

Not once did you feel the overwhelming holy presence of god that everybody else seemed to be experiencing everyday after school and work when you all settled in together to listen to your fathers teachings.

You’d sit with a scowl on your face, turning around in the front row pew reserved for the preachers family and you’d observe the people around you. You knew everybody in your town, some more than others, but you always thought people looked different when they prayed.

The nice man who worked at the grocery store looked far more guilty and weathered with his eyes closed and the angry woman two blocks away who yelled at the kids riding their bikes too close to her sprinklers, looked peaceful like she was talking to an old friend.

Your mother would hiss under her breath in an attempt to catch your attention, sending soft pinches to your thighs until you’d begrudgingly turn back in your seat and plop down in your puffy dress, tuning out the sound of your fathers loud voice.

Looking back on it now, your mother seemed to notice the dark parts of you brewing before you even did. The two of you never saw eye to eye and despite the fact you were her only child, much to her dismay considering they tried for years after your birth to have another but to no avail, she never treated you with any sort of motherly warmth or kindness.

She’d glare at you from across the dinner table while her and your father conjoined hands and thanked the lord for the meal that your mother had cooked. You’d started to sit on your hands at dinner when you were 7 years old and what once was a cute misbehaving habit quickly became the warning sign of your future endeavors.

Still, part of being the preachers family was playing an act. So you’d all get up early in the mornings and wordlessly move around the house like the backstage of a play, dressing the part and giving bright smiles to each family that walked through the doorway on Sunday morning.

Your mother would stand behind you with a long stretched out smile, hands on your thin shoulders as she dug her nails down every time she felt you tense up at a greeting.

Then you were 16 and for the first time in your life, you heard her voice the thing you’d always assumed she believed. You stood in the hallway in your nightgown, standing stiff as a board to avoid the creaking wood of your old house, peering around a dimly lit corner to hear your parents conversation more clearly.

“She hasn’t done anything wrong Mary.” Your fathers rough low voice was flowing in your direction, sounding tired and agitated. You could vaguely hear the sounds of his rough hands rubbing over his unshaven scruff in frustration.

“She will.” Your mother sounded panicked and alert, desperate for him to understand her case. “I can’t explain it but she has this darkness in her, I’ve felt it ever since I was pregnant.”

Your breath caught in your throat as they spoke, understanding now they were referring to you. You were only slightly surprised, no grand feelings of fear or betrayal arising.

That nights conversation had ended with your mother in a fit of tears and your father uttering words of reassurance in an attempt to calm her down as you used the sounds of her loud sobs to sneak back to your room, getting under the covers and blowing out the candles by the time your father was opening your door to insure you were in bed.

He’d stood there for a few minutes, the door cracked with his hand on the knob. Do this day you wondered what he was waiting for. Maybe he was expecting you to talk in your sleep or he was trying to get some sense of the evil your mother was spewing about, but eventually you heard his tired sigh and the door shutting.

It’d been three years now since that conversation and you still hadn’t fully understood the evil your mother was referring to. You didn’t believe in god, that much had been clear to you from a very early age but you didn’t believe in the devil either.

You didn’t feel things maybe you should be feeling, sadness when an elder passed away unexpectedly or happiness when a new baby was born into the community. You didn’t feel pain when your mother shot you looks of disgust and you only felt slight jolts of satisfaction when she leapt in fear every time you entered a quiet room.

The seed of evil that was apparently inside of you never bloomed, no matter how much you waited for its arrival.

Until the day the Sim’s arrived to town.

It was extremely rare for somebody to move out of your hometown, and you’d been instructed to never speak about the families that left, to let yourself forget their names and faces. Forget any interaction you’d had with them now that they were gone.

But you’d never once contemplated the fact that it was possible to move here willingly. It hadn’t occurred to you that somebody would choose this place to live and that they’d be allowed to stay peacefully, and especially not given a grand welcome.

So you felt yourself uncharacteristically thrown off guard as you found yourself at church on a Saturday, typically your only day you weren’t required to be here. You’d spend these days down by the creek or riding around the abandoned section of town on your bike, trying to find something interesting to see.

As you stood near the stage, where your fathers podium was perfectly centered and polished, greeting the usual faces with a forced smile, your eyes landed on the most interesting sight you’d ever seen.

The Sim’s were a direct mirror of your family as they stood in front of you. Only three of them, a tall man giving your father a sturdy handshake and laughing like old friends and a small meek woman who was holding your mothers hand in both of hers, a thankful smile on her face.

Placed directly in front of you was a boy, seemingly your age, shifting back and forth on his feet as he waited for you to initiate any form of greeting.

There was people your age in town, your graduating class held 25 kids and over half of them were girls, daughters that were considered blessings for their special ability to continue on your towns population. You’d met boys, few handsome but handsome none the less but nobody who looked like the one standing in front of you.

He was taller than you, peering down at you from behind thin framed glasses and about double your width. You imagined you were hidden behind his shoulders to the view of the people stood in line behind him, waiting to greet your family.

His skin was tanned, something that you imagined wouldn’t last long considering you weren’t sure your town was blessed by the sun at all, almost constantly grey and dreary looking even in the peak of summer.

You took your time observing the boy, not feeling any sense of urgency at the knowledge people were watching and waiting, not even at the fact your mother was stood directly next to you and you could feel her stare on the side of your face. Her loss of attention seemed to make the boys mother nervous and she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“And this is our son, Jake.” She was chirping out and you almost wanted to laugh at how desperate she seemed to impress your family. The boy, Jake, was looking at you still for a second before his eyes shot to your mother and he gave her a nervous smile. “He’s shy at first but he’s a very good boy.”

His eyes flicked back over to yours as she spoke and your mouth quirked up in a small smile, finally sticking out your hand in offering to him.

You felt a strange feeling build up inside you, splattering against your ribs and painting your insides with something deep and powerful. As you held his hand in yours, your eyes caught onto your mothers and you could see the fear crossing over her expression at her own realization.

“Hi Jake.”

And the seed bloomed.

——

It wasn’t more than 30 seconds after your father finished his last word, the remains of it still echoing throughout the room underneath the chorus of ‘amen’s, that your mother was gripping your arm and dragging you back into his office space.

She closed the door swiftly and you yanked your arm out of her grip with a scowl, staring at her for an explanation about her sudden behavior despite having a slight inkling of what she was about to say to you.

“You can’t.” She spoke vaguely, an angry desperation in her voice like you were a feral dog with a hungry look in its eye.

“What are you talking about?” You lowered your agitation, doing your best impression of a confused and fearful daughter. She scoffed at your expression and held a hand to her mouth like she was genuinely amazed at your audacity.

“You leave that boy alone Y/N, or so help me God.” She was shaking her head at you and you felt a surge of annoyance at her tone, her voice shaky and weak.

You thought she was slightly pathetic. She’d spent her entire life treating you like the devil, implying your evil and avoiding you at all cost but the second you finally start to understand her concern and she’s immediately turned to pleading and bargaining. There was no fun in this for you.

Soft knocks against the door caught her attention and she looked over your shoulder, trying to ignore the fact you were still staring at her and not bothering to turn and face whoever had entered.

“Go home and get dinner started.” Your fathers voice was entering the room now in a hushed whisper, like somebody was still outside behind him. “We are going to have a welcome meal with the new residents.”

Your mothers eyes shot back in your direction at his words, like she was begging you to remember her previous warning and you offered her a small smirk before turning to face your father with a toothy grin, expression changing now.

“Of course father, whatever you need.”

——

You’d ignored your mothers glare the entire time you worked on dinner together, setting the table casually and changing into a less formal dress that gained a thumbs up of approval from your father.

When the Sim’s arrived, you greeted them similarly to how you did at church except your mother made sure to shake Jake’s hand for a prolonged amount of time so you couldn’t, only breaking apart when your father cleared his throat and ushered you all towards the polished dining room.

He took his seat at the head of the table and you briefly wondered what type of man Jake’s father was. He was larger than your dad, much larger and you noticed a hint of irritation in his face when he took a seat on the side. You imagined he sat similarly to your father at his own house and didn’t find great pleasure in the new arrangement.

There was three seats on each side and your mother had rushed to take a middle seat next to you, attempting to block anybody else from being seated beside you.

However your father cleared his throat subtly and sent the both of you a small glare, confused at the fact she hadn’t adorned her usual seat next to him. You were sure he realized it would be strange for her to sit a seat away from him, making them look distant or troubled.

She sent you a small angry look but shifted over a space so she was now sat in her usual place, leaning an empty chair between the two of you.

An empty chair that was soon taken by Jake, his mother sending him an encouraging smile and giving him a slight nudge in your direction. You remembered what she said about him being shy, not hiding the fact she was trying to create a friendship between the two of you.

His mothers face angered you more than your own. She was small and weak looking, constantly smiling with wide eyes like she was waiting to drop into a conversation at any time to force a connection, yet she rarely did throughout dinner. For the most part she stayed silent, nodding along obediently every time her husband spoke.

So you kept your attention on the boy for the most part, figuring the adults were too busy kissing eachothers ass’s to care about what the two silent teenagers were doing at the end of the table.

You knew he could feel the way you were watching him, sending you small glances out of the side of his eye and shifting uncomfortably in his seat every time he realized you were still looking.

He really was handsome you were deciding. You’d never really paid attention to boys before, understanding the difference between being attractive and not but it didn’t have any affect on you. You liked the slope of his nose and the way his throat bobbed with every nervous gulp he took.

Your father was seemingly noticing your mutual disinterest in the conversation, you watching Jake and him watching his empty plate. “Y/N honey, why don’t you take Jake to your room and show him some of your notes on our latest teachings.”

Both of your heads turned towards him as he said this, your eyes lighting up with excitement and Jake’s widening slightly.

“Oh..” His mother was starting and you resisted the urge to glare in her direction. “Jake isn’t… he’s never..”

Jake’s father sent her a sharp look and she snapped her mouth shut immediately, looking away from him. Your excitement only doubled as you realized she wasn’t comfortable leaving her son alone with a girl, leading you to believe he never had been before.

“Of course father.” You smiled at him softly, standing and flattening out your dress in a prudish manner. Jake glanced in your direction as you stood, clumsily rising out of his own chair as you headed up the stairs and down the hall to your room.

He followed wordlessly behind, still not speaking even when you stood in the doorway and let him awkwardly squeeze past you so he was stood stiffly in the center of your room. You closed the door behind you and he froze, eyes widening again.

“What are you doing?” His voice was high with worry and you realized it was your first time hearing him speak.

“What are you talking about?” You played dumb as you observed him, walking backwards until your legs hit your bed and you could sit carefully. He stayed standing as he watched you with confusion and worry.

“Mother says not to close doors.” He was shaking his head and it looked like he wanted to go and open it himself. He didn’t move however and you leaned back to rest on your hand, cocking your head in his direction.

“Do you always do what mommy says?” You questioned.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly at your condescending tone. You’d seemed nice enough at church and dinner, not speaking much but polite to your parents whenever you did. He was suddenly worried he had angered you.

“I guess she did say you were a good boy.” You quoted what his mother had said when she introduced him, voice carrying a faint mocking tone as you spoke.

He didn’t say anything after you said that, just standing there looking at you like you were some form of animal he’d never seen before. And maybe he hadn’t you were beginning to think, his speech was structured and tight like he was reciting lines and you were curious if he’d ever had a conversation with somebody his own age.

Your hand reached over to pat the bed next to you, raising an eyebrow at him and urging him to sit.

He watched you with that same look for a few seconds before looking back at the door like he was contemplating how fast he’d have to bolt out of it before you could sink your claws into him. He seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it, crossing the room and sitting down as far away from you as he could possibly get.

“Where’d you come from?” You didn’t plan to say that but the curiosity was driving you crazy, not quite understanding how he could be so sheltered.

“A village not far from here.” He was eventually answering with a soft shrug. He was sat perfectly straight on your bed, posture making him look even taller than he already was considering you were still leaned back on your palm.

You should’ve figured he was from a village, suddenly understanding why his mother was practically a house wife from the 1800’s and his dad looked relatively similar to a lumberjack.

“No girls at your village?” You were watching the side of his face as you questioned him, growing slightly agitated that he wasn’t looking at you. “Jake.”

He turned his face towards you when you addressed him, eyes widening like he was worried you were going to scold him from the sound of your stern call.

“I asked you a question.” When he didn’t immediately answer you assumed he hadn’t heard you, repeating yourself. “Was there no girls where you’re from?”

He was shaking his head swiftly, looking at his hands and then back towards you. “None like..”

“None like me?” You interrupted him as he started to trail off and your lips quirked into a smile. “So no pretty girls then.”

He frowned as you hummed and nodded your head like you’d made sense of what he was trying to say. He didn’t look like even he understood what the things you were saying meant and you almost pitied him as you slowly unlocked the full extent of his naivety.

“You’ve probably never even held hands with a girl right?” You kept your tone sweet despite your intentions.

He looked like he only slightly relaxed at your change of tone, glancing at you as he shook his head as a way to answer your question. He didn’t understand why you wanted to know this.

You were sitting back up straight, off your hands, and leaning sideways to get closer to him. He watched you with panicked eyes as you reached down near his lap and took his hand in yours, similarly to how you shook it at the church but the tension in the room was a direct opposite.

He made a strange noise when you touched him, a semi squeak at the suddenness of your contact and you smiled at him, scooting closer so you weren’t awkwardly stretching your arm in his direction.

“How does it feel?” You murmured, fighting the urge to lean against him and whisper in his ear. You didn’t want to scare him off just yet.

“I don’t think I should be in here.” He was shaking his head as he spoke and staring down at your conjoined hands or maybe the floor past them. They were resting in his lap, the back of your hand on his right thigh.

You frowned softly although he wasn’t looking at you, trying to keep up with your act. He seemed to be more pliant earlier when he thought he had upset you. “Jake.”

He glanced at you as you said his name, just like he had before, and his gaze looked guilty when he noticed the frown on your face. You squeezed his hand to try to bring his attention back to the fact you were touching him but he shook his head again.

“I really need to go Y/N.” He was still trying to sound polite despite his obvious discomfort and you almost smiled at the innocence of that.

“You don’t want me to touch you?” You let a small whine sink into your tone, really trying to drive home the idea that he was upsetting you and you felt him squeeze your hand absentmindedly.

He didn’t reply after you said that and the room fell into a strange silence. Then he was sending a heavy glance in your direction and your mouth parted in realization, understanding his inner monologue by the thick amount of guilt in his expression.

“You do want me to touch you.” You let your smile show now, not finding any reason to hide it now that he clearly took your bait. He squeezed his eyes shut as you said this and shook his head again, his hair messy now and falling into his face.

“What’s wrong Jake?” You were almost cooing at him, your hand sliding out of his and up his wrist, in result the back of your hand going further up his thigh. You kneaded at his wrist bone and he grunted at the almost painful sensation. “It’s just skin.”

He looked at you with a frustrated expression, holding eye contact for a few seconds much to your surprise. You were almost worried he was going to cry. You didn’t mind it personally, if anything you were thinking about how pretty he’d look with watery eyes and a red nose, but you imagined it would cause some level of concern with the parents.

So you released your grip on his wrist, taking your hand back and placing it on your own lap. You were still sitting far too close to him but he visibly relaxed at the lack of touch, however slightly confused why you had backed off.

Almost like the world had been paused for the entirety of your conversation and now played again, a soft knock on your door caused you to leap away from him and grab the bible your father insisted was kept on your nightstand at all times.

You were relieved to see his face when the door opened, knowing your mother would have most likely immediately sniff out what you’d been doing. Or at least attempting to do.

Your father looked between the two of you and the large space, nodding in approval when you flashed him a smile and opened to a random page in the book. He didn’t seem to notice how tense Jake was or the fact your door had been closed in the first place.

“Your parents are leaving Jake. You can stay a bit longer if you two are having fun.” Your father was saying in a welcoming voice but Jake was hopping off your bed before he even had a chance to finish.

“No, sir. Thank you but I really should get home and finish unpacking.” He was stumbling over his words and awkwardly shifting in place, waiting for your dad to move out of the doorway so he could make his escape.

Your dad shot you a confused look over Jake’s shoulder and you gave him a small shrug, fighting the urge to smile.

——

Guilt was eating Jake alive the entire ride home. He wasn’t quite sure what he had necessarily done wrong, what level of sin he had just committed, but his mother kept shooting him disappointed looks in the mirror.

“Will you stop looking at the boy like that.” His fathers gruff voice was mumbling from the drivers seat and his mom snapped her eyes back to the front window obediently. “It’ll be good for him to make a friend.”

“What type of girl leads a boy to her bedroom?” He was surprised his mother had spoken again, especially in the harsh tone she was using. She must’ve been angry enough at you and your behavior to forget the fear she held for Jake’s father.

He felt a bit strange as she said that. You were definitely weird and had made Jake feel something he’d never experienced, and he positively wanted to leave your room as quick as possible but he didn’t think you deserved such a mean comment.

He continued to feel strange for the rest of the night.

Jake laid in bed, hours past his usual bed time, and replayed your interaction in his head. Every time he got to the part where you grabbed his wrist in your tight hold, he squeezed his eyes shut and asked god to forgive him.

He could feel his stomach light up when he thought about your hand on his pants and he wanted to dig his nails into the skin as a self punishment for the thoughts brewing in his head, thoughts he had never had before and didn’t understand.

Rolling over in his bed, stomach to the mattress, he stuffed his face into his pillow and cried softly until he eventually fell asleep.

——

You felt giddy in the church pew the next morning after seeing Jake walk in with his parents. You immediately knew your plan had worked judging by his puffy face and swollen eyes. He’d clearly gotten no sleep and you could take a strong guess at the reason why.

A sick part of you was ecstatic at the fact you had something to do, something that actually managed to catch your interest.

If all it took to keep Jake up all night was you touching his hand, than you were preparing for more fun than you originally thought.

The morning had gone routinely as you remained in your seat for the entire sermon, not spinning around to try to catch a look at the boy despite the urge constantly in the back of your mind. You didn’t focus for a second but you did a solid job pretending until you heard a hushed voice behind you excusing themself.

You snuck a glance back to see Jake passing through his pew with muttered apologies and thanks to the people he was passing, smiling softly at them.

You watched him exit the pew and make his way down the main aisle, no doubt heading towards the bathroom hall since it was the only other part of the building outside of your fathers head office. You let him disappear from your sight and counted to 30 before abruptly standing and following his path before your mother could grab your hand in denial.

By the time you made it to the hall, Jake was exiting the bathroom with damp hands and a few wet strands of hair like he had splashed his face in an attempt to wake up.

His eyes widened when he saw you approaching and he glanced behind him like he was considering disappearing back into the bathroom so you couldn’t say anything to him. You smiled at this but didn’t move closer to him, leaning against the wall.

“What are you doing?” He watched you with careful eyes, not quite sure what you wanted.

You shrugged and furrowed your eyebrows. “What are you doing? You look tired, did you not get any sleep?”

He didn’t say anything as he looked at you, eyes heavy and guilty again like he was afraid you could read his mind. Unlucky for him, you didn’t have to read his mind to know what was happening in it.

“Were you thinking about me?” You pushed forward on his suspicions when he didn’t respond to you, tilting your head as you looked at him.

He didn’t respond again, letting out a small tired exhale before leaning against the wall opposite of you. The hallway was tensioned despite not being close enough to touch even if you stretched your arm out.

“I was thinking about you.” You suddenly confessed in an attempt to catch his interest or potentially get him to lower his walls enough for a solid conversation. It seemed to work considering his head was snapping up and he was looking at you with wide questioning eyes. “Is thinking a sin?”

He watched you for a few seconds, slightly embarrassed that you had somehow realized what his inner dilemma lead back to.

“Yes.” He answered matter of factly and you let out a small laugh.

You observed the way his lips awkwardly quirked up, like he was pleased he made you laugh despite being dead serious in his answer. His smile pulled at his cheeks for a second and you liked the way he nervously wiped his sweaty hands on his pants.

“What… what were you thinking about?” He squeezed the words out like they were painful after a silence fell between the two of you. You felt a bud of satisfaction at the fact he’d been curious enough to ask.

“Touching you.” You shrugged like it was a casual thing to say, watching his shoulders tense and his mouth part slightly in shock and disapproval.

“My hand?” You were a bit surprised that he asked a follow up question, voice dropping into a scared whisper like he was worried somebody was eavesdropping, maybe he was worried god could hear him.

You were watching him for a few uncomfortable beats, liking the way his cheeks turned red and he kept looking away from your gaze anxiously. Then you were shaking your head to answer his question, taking a step closer to his side of the hall.

His breath hitched as you kept taking small strides in his direction, taking your time with a loose smile on your face like you were out for a casual walk. You stopped next to him, turning and pressing your back against the wall he was leaned on so your shoulders were pressing together.

You wondered if he was planning to hold his breath the entire time you were touching him this time around, his face reddening even though your skin was separated by multiple pieces of thick fabric.

“Would you let me touch you again?” You leaned over slightly so you were closer to his ear, your chin hovering over his shoulder.

“You can’t.” He was immediately denying your request, stiff and agitated sounding. His voice was tight as he spoke like he was having to force the words out. “Please don’t do this.”

“Because you’re a good boy right?” You were even closer now, your lips touching the shell of his ear and he was shuddering against you, a frustrated whine in his throat.

He sent a sharp glare in your direction, at least as sharp as his features could get. You thought he looked cute when he was mad at you, eyes brows furrowed and his glasses sliding to the tip of his nose. Despite the way he was looking at you, he made no attempt to push you away or step apart himself.

“I want you to come to my house after church.” You whispered to him and he didn’t say anything, for once not shaking his head and just looking at you as you spoke your cruel demands. “I’ll tell my dad to talk to your parents about helping you catch up on his teachings.”

He looked amazed at your audacity, to not only lie to your parents but to lie about the lord and the Bible made his stomach turn in disgust.

Still, he almost couldn’t help but to lean his shoulder closer to yours and watch you with wide eyes and a parted mouth. He felt almost transfixed by you and your newness, the unique energy you gave off that made his head spin. He nodded his head slowly and watched you smile.

——

You’d waited for your mother to leave the house, a very rare occurrence for her outside of her weekly bingo nights at the recreational center in town, before you poked your head into your fathers office to request he calls the Sim’s.

You felt strangely jittery as you waited for them to send Jake over. Surprisingly, the Sim’s hadn’t moved into a house that far from you and you imagined he could probably ride a bike to your house in less than twenty minutes if the weather ever allowed it, rainy days an almost constant feature around this time of year.

It was only around half an hour before you heard knocks on the front door, followed by the low tone of your fathers voice and eventually the creaking of the steps as somebody made their way up to your bedroom.

Jake seemed thrown off when he saw you, dressed in far more casual clothes than he’d seen you in so far. He also looked momentarily relieved at the fact your door was wide open and you didn’t make any move to shut it as he crossed into the threshold of your room.

“Hi.” He politely addressed you with a slight bow and wave, avoiding looking at you fully where you sat on the bed. You gave him an incredulous look and sighed before patting the spot next to you.

He looked like he was dreading this but expecting it, only taking a few seconds of hesitation before he was shuffling over and sitting slowly down on your soft bed. You immediately scooted closer to him and grabbed his hand in yours.

His reaction wasn’t as intense as last time although he did immediately stiffen and his eyes snapped wide open, but he didn’t let out a small shriek at the feeling of your touch like he did yesterday.

“Are you going to let me touch you today?” You kept your voice low and he was suddenly very aware of the fact your door was completely open and your father was just a few feet away downstairs.

He slowly looked over at you, peering up from behind his long eyelashes and you wanted to grab his face with your nails. He looked like a puppy who had just done something naughty, big eyes unmoving from nerves as they darted around your face so he could avoid holding your strong gaze.

“This isn’t right.” He whispered back, eyes pleading as they finally locked onto yours. You almost felt sorry for him as he spoke, obviously so desperate to set you back on the right path in life. “Mother said I shouldn’t lay a hand on anybody, not even myself.”

You almost smiled as he said this, pleased at the new information he was unknowingly providing you with.

“It’s just skin.” You were reminding him again, slowly leaning against him so your chest was pressed against the side of his arm. His breath hitched at this and he glanced down at your upper body for a second. “You’ve never touched yourself?”

He shook his head immediately, face annoyed like he was offended you’d even suggest he would do such a thing. You liked that even though he was uncomfortable and denying his thoughts towards you, he still wasn’t seemingly capable of pushing you away. He’d still shown up to your house.

“I touch myself.” You were leaning forward more so you could talk into his ear again. A soft whimper left his throat when your lips grazed his skin again but he didn’t say anything, like he was waiting for you to continue. “On this bed, I touch myself every night.”

It was a slight exaggeration. You hadn’t really felt a strong need to touch yourself ever, never having a subject of attraction that left you longing enough that you’d roll around in bed late at night thinking about it, squeezing your thighs together in frustration.

But you were transfixed by the way he immediately tensed again, glancing back behind you towards where your pillows were and then immediately shooting forward and falling to the cross hanging on the wall in front of you both.

“It’s just skin.” You repeated to him again and he sucked in a shaky breath as you said it, bringing his guilty pained eyes back to you. You almost cooed at him, clicking your tongue and holding his chin softly. He leaned into the touch like he wasn’t meaning to and you wondered how touch starved he must be.

Your hand that wasn’t holding his face fell down to his lap, laying flat and still on his thigh as you let him process what you were doing.

He stiffened again and let out a low troubled groan, shaking his head again at himself. You wondered what he was thinking right now, if he was convinced he was heading straight for hell because of his thoughts alone so maybe it didn’t matter if he let you touch him. Or maybe he was seconds away from bolting downstairs and telling your father about what you’d been attempting to do.

“This isn’t right.” He was whispering and still trying to shake his head the best he could with your grip on his face. His repetition was starting to bug you, suddenly feeling impatient as he still hadn’t taken the bait fully.

“But it feels so good.” You purred into his ear, turning his head back to look at the cross and scooting closer so you were pressed tightly against his side. The sensation of this mixed with your hand on his leg was overwhelming and he felt slightly suffocated. “I want to show you Jake, let me show you how good it feels.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds and you considered letting him go, wanting to have him completely might mean waiting some time so you didn’t scare him off.

Then he was surprising you and looking back in your direction, your hand falling to his collarbones instead so he could decide what to do with his head. He gave you a soft nod, looking like he immediately regretted it when you wasted no time, pushing your hand forward onto the center of his pants.

He immediately lurched forward with a loud groan at the feeling of your hand on him and you shushed him softly, using the hand on his face to bring him back up to a sitting position and pet his face lovingly.

“You have to be quiet Jake.” You whispered in his ear and nodded towards your open door. He looked at you with a desperate glance, like he was pleading for you to close it despite his upset at that yesterday. You shook your head softly. “Can you be a good boy Jake?”

You started to slowly knead your hand against him, wanting to smile at the fact he was already hard before you had touched him. Light teasing and your soft hand on his thigh already had him bothered.

He was making small noises and you kept his face turned in your direction with your hold back on his jaw. You were sitting up straighter than him so he was a bit below you, having to look up through his eyelashes as he surprisingly held eye contact with you.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” You murmured excitedly, eyes wild and eager. He didn’t reply verbally, another small whine slipping from his throat and you pressed down hard on his cock through his pants. “I asked a question.”

Now he was nodding desperately, hands reaching out to grip your wrist in an attempt to lessen the pressure you were applying to him. “Good- feels good.”

His voice was strained and raspy like it was crawling its way out of his throat and you smiled with sick satisfaction, leaning forward so you were closer to his face. Your nose pressed against his and you thought about kissing him for just a few seconds, eventually deciding against it.

Jake was writhing on the bed now, desperately moving into your hand with small groans and whines, his hips lifting off the blanket in an attempt to chase your touch every time you removed it. He didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it, a dazed expression on his face.

He seemed out of it until your hand was leaving his face and sliding down his sweater covered chest. He didn’t seem to realize you were doing it until your hand was pressing on his stomach slightly, fidgeting with the singular button on his jeans and tugging on the zipper impatiently.

“No, no.” He was whining, grabbing your wrist to stop you from snaking your hand down his pants, touching him without any layers between. “You can’t do that.”

“Why?” You asked incredulously, leaning forward so you were hovering over him slightly. He leaned back on his hand a bit to avoid bumping into your face and you were a few inches from laying on top of him. “I promise it’ll feel so good Jake.”

The usage of his name made him wince, realizing he liked it far too much when you said it. He’d never really considered his name before, completely indifferent to it until he heard the way it rolled off your snake like tongue.

“You aren’t supposed to do that.” He practically spat the words at you but his tone lacked any anger instead sounding fearful and pained. “You can’t touch me there, you just can’t.”

You felt slightly sorry for him as he hiccuped, his voice breaking around the words as you watched tears collect in his pretty eyelashes. His eyes kept darting to the cross on the wall with a guilty expression.

You took your hands off of his lap, listening to his sigh of longing at the loss of contact. You weren’t quite sure what to do in this situation despite seeing it coming, eventually opting for sitting up further on the bed and pulling him into your neck, wrapping your arms around his shaking body in a hug.

He leaned into it and hesitantly wrapped himself around you, tucking his face into your warm neck and letting out a few sobs, tugging you forward slightly by your lower back.

You let him cry for a while, hushing him softly every few minutes just in case, although you were in a less compromising position now, you still didn’t think your father would be thrilled to find you half in the lap of a sniffling boy who was still hard against you.

“Jake.” You were eventually murmuring into his hair once his hiccups subsided slightly, he nuzzled into your neck further at the sound of your soft tone. “What if I didn’t use my hands?”

He picked his head up at this and furrowed his eyebrows at you, his eyes puffy and red with wet streaks still going down his face.

“I don’t understand.” He looked more puppy like than normal as he said this in a soft breathy voice, voice hoarse from crying and his lip almost jutting out into a confused frown.

“Can I show you?” You kept your voice soft as you spoke to him and he immediately nodded his head. He clearly had found some sort of comfort in your embrace, a connection being made enough for him to fall into this state of vulnerability, willingly to accept what you were wanting to give him now.

You felt a sick rush of adrenaline at his lowered walls, the sudden dumb eagerness in his eyes as he seemed to seek out any sign of contact from you.

You imagined it was a flood of emotions, a confusion and tiring feeling to suddenly be presented with a situation that went against everything your life had been carefully crafted around. Not to mention how addicting it must feel to suddenly learn what was on the other side and how good it felt, having unbothered access to it as the two of you sat huddled on your bed.

Kissing his cheek softly, you slowly slid off the bed onto the floor, suddenly thankful you had a thick rug on your bed side. He watched you in confusion, looking like he wanted to grab you and help you up before you shot him a stern look.

Your hands were back on his jeans now that you were fully situated and he looked like he wanted to object for just a second before lifting his hips off the bed so you could pull them down to pool around his ankles.

You took just a second to admire him, his pretty tanned skin overwhelming you a bit in its sheer amount. His legs were surprisingly thick, muscular like an athlete and you briefly remembered you didn’t know much about him at all.

That didn’t bother you at all, if anything it made you want him more when you looked up at him to see his nervous eyes staring down at you in concern. He looked humiliated and you imagined it had something to do with the fact he was still extremely hard, even after crying for so long.

If he was more stable in his emotions, less flighty, you would’ve made fun of him. You would’ve called him names and made him cry all over again and then taken his innocence without a second thought.

Instead you carried on the kindness act, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against his length through his underwear.

He immediately hissed and shot forward, not realizing what you were planning to do and not understanding why you were doing this. He started to stammer out in confusion and you shushed him again, sending a sharp glare towards the open door in warning.

“What are you doing?” He sounded absolutely blown away now, even more than he did earlier and it settled in your mind that he clearly had absolute no sexual knowledge, including blowjobs. “That’s dirty, you can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You were mock frowning up at him. “Did mommy say so?”

He knew you were making fun of him but he still nodded in response, not liking the sudden return of your mean tone. He forgot all about it when you were leaning forward again, this time touching your lips to him longer and sucking softly through the fabric.

“Mommy’s not here.” You were breathing out when you pulled away from him again, much to his dismay considering he immediately lifted his hips back in your direction. “And doesn’t it feel nice?”

He was nodding his head dumbly in agreement, feeling dizzy from the foreign emotions. He still didn’t understand what you were doing but it felt too good to keep questioning, forgetting momentarily about sin and how much punishment was going to come his way after this.

You were sliding your hands up his thighs slowly, stopping at the waistband of his boxers and glancing up at him for any sign of refusal. You didn’t care much for his discomfort but you weren’t going to force him to do anything, despite how much fun you were having with him.

He didn’t make any move to stop you, not even seeming to notice or understand what you were planning to do until you pulled on the elastic swiftly.

Then he was shooting back up from where he’d been leaning back, shaking his head again and covering himself with his hands. You smiled at him from your place on the floor and he looked at you like you were crazy.

You were getting slightly frustrated despite your pleased expression, wanting him to quickly understand what you were planning on doing. You gripped his wrist tightly and pulled them away from his lap

“What are you doing?” He was whispering in a panicked tone, his hands hovering above your head like he was debating pulling you away from him. He let out a yelp when you leaned forward and took the head of his cock into your mouth, watching him with hooded eyes. “T-that’s dirty, stop it.”

You wanted to laugh at his wording choices, sounding like he was a worried mother scolding their child for playing in mud.

“It’s dirty?” You frowned at him when you pulled back for a moment, his wide eyes falling on your wet lips. They squeezed shut just for a moment when you were licking up his full length slowly, humming at the taste of him and his weight on your tongue. “I should probably stop then right?”

He let out a panicked cry and ran a hand over his face in frustration. He wanted you to stop or at least he knew he should want you to stop. His mother had been right and you were not a nice girl, not the type of girl he should be around and he felt his stomach turn at the knowledge he was committing a very large sin by finding pleasure in your lust.

But the pleasure was prominent and overwhelming him to the point he couldn’t think straight.

He understood what sex was and his father had taught him about boyish lust, the kind that wakes you up from your sleep needing to change into a new pair of pajamas but he’d been warned from an early age to simply ignore the occurring urge.

He could still hear his mothers shrieks and cries when she caught him with a pillow between his legs in high school, could feel the welts on the back of his hands from the ruler his father had punished him with. Jake sometimes wondered if other people experienced this urge, this call to sin, as much as he did or if he was rotten inside.

But for the first time in his entire life, Jake couldn’t find it in himself to think about the consequences to falling victim to it. Not when you were touching him in ways not even his dreams could think to imagine.

When he didn’t answer you’d taken him back in your mouth, slightly impressed by how thick he was. He bucked forward his hips instinctively, pushing himself deeper into your mouth and you pinched his thigh roughly in warning.

You heard him cry out in a sob, his hands gripping the blankets so hard they were turning white and shaking at an almost alarming rate.

“Please.” He was begging and you weren’t sure he even knew what for, his voice coming out desperate and needy. “Please i-it feels really weird.”

You hummed around his cock in understanding, your hand petting his thigh and pushing his shirt up on his stomach so you could feel more of him. He didn’t even seem to register you touching him, the sounds of his soft cries and pleads distracting you slightly.

You tapped his hip bone a few times and he seemed to somehow understand the message, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth at a slower pace this time. You let him do what he wanted despite the urge to take control of the situation, knowing there wasn’t any chance he was lasting more than 30 seconds anyways.

He was slightly surprising you already, truthfully you’d expected him to cum before you even got his boxers off his thighs.

You imagined his inner monologue was causing him some issue as you listened to him cry softly from pleasure, little overwhelmed gasps and hiccups as one of his hands grabbed onto the one you were running across his stomach and squeezed it tightly.

“You need to just let it go baby.” You were whispering to him as you pulled off for a second when his hips started to twitch awkwardly, overwhelmed and not understanding what the feeling building up deep in his gut was. “Don’t worry about making a mess.”

The second you took him back in your lips he was following your instructions with a loud moan, completely forgetting you were meant to keep quiet as he came inside your warm mouth.

You winced slightly at the unexpectedness of it, leaning backwards on your knees as you waited for his hips to stop jerking forward.

He was shaking his head at you, eyes teary and his face red as he squinted his eyes in confusion. “What w-was -“

“You came.” You said matter of factly, standing up with a groan from your uncomfortable kneeling position and sitting next to him on the bed again. He leaned sideways into you, much to your surprise, and you resisted the urge to push him off you.

“Was I supposed to?” He whispered in embarrassment and pushed his face into your neck again. You were slightly uncomfortable at his clinginess but you let him do it, knowing he must be feeling a lot.

“Yes Jake. Maybe not all over my face though.” You were trying to joke with him to lighten the atmosphere but you sighed as you heard him let out a little cry into your neck, clearly upset and humiliated.

He was mumbling against your skin, repeated mantras that you couldn’t quite understood through his sobs but had a good guess in what they contained. You imagined reality was coming back to him now and he was processing what he’d just done without the hazy cloud of need cursing his judgement.

“Jake, you need to stop crying.” You were sighing and bringing your hand up to his hair, petting it softly to try to calm him down.

“Did I do a bad thing?” He pulled off your neck to look you in the eyes, his wide and desperate like he was fishing for any bit of reassurance that what you’d just done was okay, that he hadn’t just committed a sin so unholy. You could tell by his expression he was asking just to hear it reaffirmed, for you to tell him again it was just skin.

“My poor baby.” You were cooing at him, lips jutted out in a pout as your hands came up to hold his face, cupping it softly and wiping his teary cheeks with your thumbs. “Of course you did a bad thing.”

He froze completely in your hold and you felt a laugh bubble into your throat, holding it down with all your might so you could get the full extent of his reaction. He sat up slightly, attempting to pull out of your hands before realizing you were holding his face too tight. He gave you a confused and hurt look.

“What?” He was stammering out and his face was curling back into another sob.

“How could you let me do that?” You were tsking at him as you spoke, eyebrows furrowed like he had genuinely offended you. He watched you as panic settled into his eyes at the sound of you kissing your teeth and shaking your head softly. “We were supposed to be studying.”

“B-but.” He was shaking his head and holding onto your wrist, eyes filling with tears. “But you said that..”

He trailed off and you watched him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for him to pass the blame off onto you. Of course he didn’t, his expression hardening although you knew he hadn’t quite realized your motive. He was too innocent to believe you’d deceive him, too stupid to understand every action you did was a carefully crafted lie.

“Maybe it’s time you go Jakey.” You were nodding as you spoke, petting his hair and pushing it back out of his eyes.

He didn’t say anything else, his expression dazed out as he came out of such a vulnerable compliant headspace with a jolt. You watched him in silence as he gathered himself enough to get dressed awkwardly and walk out of your room, loose and tilting like he had just woken up.

You waited for him to be completely out of sight, the sound of the front door closing, before falling back on your bed with a big smile.

——

You’d fallen asleep soon after that without much thought on the situation, feeling only a deep satisfaction at the progress you’d made with Jake and a slight tinge of excitement for the next time you got to see him.

By the time you’d woken up, your mother was already in your room and standing staring down at you. You barely reacted to her presence although you were slightly unnerved and curious just how long she’d been watching you sleep.

“Can I help you?” Your voice was groggy as you sat up and pushed your bedridden hair out of your face.

Any other mother might have found your tired movements cute, maybe they’d give you an endeared smile and reminisce on when you were a baby waking up from naps.

However you were born with a very specific type of mother, maybe one of her kind. She was watching you with a nasty scowl, a knowing look in her eye as she did a slow pan around your room. “Your father said the boy was here yesterday.”

You hummed in agreement, tilting your head softly to try and get a further reaction from her.

“His mother called and said he won’t be at church this morning.” She spat the words at you, accusatory and nasty. “He’s sick.”

You could tell by the way she said that she knew it was a lie, wether Jake was the one telling it or his mother. At first you were slightly shocked he’d lie about being sick but you figured he might just be feeling so, driven by the extreme emotions he’d been feeling.

“What a shame. He seemed more than fine yesterday.” You put in a pity filled voice, shaking your head as you let the innuendo sink in for her, watching the way her face curled with disgust.

“Almost ready?” You father was suddenly in your doorway, observing the scene with a raised eyebrow as he buttoned the cuff of his sleeve.

“Father, would it be okay if I stopped by the Sim’s before heading to service? I’d like to bring Jake some soup for his cold.” Your voice was dripping with sweetness and you vaguely saw your mothers jaw tick with irritation.

“I can do it.” She was rushing to say.

Your father shook his head immediately and held a hand up to silence the both of you from speaking again. He finished buttoning his sleeve and cleared his throat before speaking. “You agreed to meet with the Lee’s today Mary. I think it’d be a good idea for Y/N to go, since they’re friends.”

You smiled appreciatively at him and he gave you a small nod before leaving the room. You glanced at your mother to see her stony expression but surprisingly she didn’t say anything, simply shaking her head in disapproval and following behind him.

It was strange to not leave for church with them, to stand in the window with the curtain pulled back as you smiled and waved watching the car drive off.

You dropped the grin the second they turned the street corner and hurried out the door to get on your bike and head over to the Sim’s house.

You hadn’t been there before despite your father pointing it out on your way home yesterday but it looked pretty much the exact same as the other houses in the neighborhood. It was large and eerie, the rainy atmosphere not helping it.

The door was opening before you could even dismount your bike let alone knock and you saw Jake’s mom standing in the archway with a small frown.

“What are you doing here?” Her tone was harsh and for a second you wondered if he had told her about what happened, confessed his sins in a fit of guilt.

You were so thrown off that you didn’t immediately respond, suddenly aware of the fact you didn’t bring any sort of soup or medicine like you had originally planned, too eager to get out the door to remember your cover story.

Lucky for you, Jake’s father was coming into sight now and a small grunt from him sent the rude woman cowering away.

You observed this with a curious expression and tried not to frown. Maybe Jake wasn’t as innocent and pure as he seemed considering he apparently had some familial issues, obvious in the way his mother showed a fearful obedience to the large man in front of you.

“You here for my boy?” His voice was low and gruff and it was a bit remarkable how different Jake was than his father.

You opted for a small nod, only slightly playing a part considering he actually did a good job at intimidating you. He let out a hum of approval and stepped aside so you could enter the house, not asking anymore questions.

“It’s good you two get along.” You were taking in the main living space as you entered, his voice picking up a conversational tone that sounded slightly unnatural. “I was beginning to think he’d never talk to someone his own age, let alone a girl.”

He had a typical mannish tone, one you’d heard in movies or from the gross men who sat outside the town bar in a drunken haze as they catcalled and talked at a volume far too loud for your small town. It lacked the usual religious hold you were more used to, he almost sounded pleased at the idea of his son being with a girl.

You glanced at him and held his stare. You wondered for a second if he was testing you now, waiting for you to reveal any sinful intentions you had so he could run back to your father and earn some brownie points for catching your sickness in the act.

He raised an eyebrow at you as you cocked your head, willing him to talk further and continue in his attempt at baiting you.

“Upstairs on the right.” He eventually said, your stare unrelenting. You unfroze your stony expression and gave him a small smile, knowing you probably looked crazy with how fast your face changed.

You were walking away from him before he could say anything else or before Jake’s mother could return, skipping a step at a time in your haste to get upstairs.

Without knocking, you pushed open his door and barged in.

He was sat up in bed, lower half under the covers, and he let out a small shriek of surprise at your sudden intrusion, furthered by a quick inhale when he realized who it was that had just walked in.

“W-what are you doing here?” He was rushing out as he watched you close the door behind you and sit down on the end of his bed.

“I came to check on you.” You said it like it was obvious, a soft shrug of your shoulders. “Since you’re sick.”

His mouth parted in confusion for a second before he seemingly remembered he was meant to be ill, looking awkward and guilty at the reminder he had lied.

You didn’t address his obvious reaction, telling you what you already assumed, and instead climbed up further on his bed. He made a strange noise when you got closer to him, pulling back the blankets and getting underneath them with him. You briefly caught sight of his plaid pajama pants before you covered the both of you up.

“M-my parents.” He was shaking his head and anxiously looking at the door like he was waiting for his mom to walk in any second. You watched his distress, wondering if he was possibly hoping for that to happen, before you heard the sound of the front door slamming.

A look of fear passed over his face at the realization his parents had just left him alone with you. You were a bit surprised yourself but you kept your face neutral, watching him to drink up his reaction.

“I came all this way and you can’t even say thank you.” You tsked and relaxed against his pillows with an annoyed expression. “Especially after what you did yesterday.”

He looked upset at the reminder and he was sitting up more now, the blanket pulling forward around his thighs and he practically kneeled and titled forward in your direction. He wasn’t touching you but his hands were clasped together as he practically did a full bow on his bed.

“I’m so sorry.” He started to say the words but his voice broke around them and he rocked slightly back and forth. You almost laughed at the fact he was already about to cry and it’d only been about five minutes alone with you. “Thank you for coming.”

You imagined he’d been doing a lot of crying since you saw him last, staying up all night running your words on loop in his mind. The sincerity in your voice when you told him he committed a disgusting sin.

“Get back under the covers.” You spoke in a calm voice and he picked his head up to look at you in confusion, face red and eyes teary. He looked surprised you weren’t scolding him, having seemingly forgotten you were the one who practically forced him to let you touch him.

He stayed frozen like that for a few seconds before snapping back to reality and nodding appreciatively, getting back under the blankets and pulling them up again so you were covered. He seemed to only now realize you were laying back against the pillows and he mirrored you, laying on his side so he could face you.

“I won’t tell anybody what you did.” You whispered to him now that his attention was fully on you. Your hand came up to hold his face and he tensed for a second at the contact. “Or maybe I will… I haven’t decided.”

He shook his head hastily, scooting closer to your body and grabbing ahold of your hand that was on his face, wrapping both of his around your wrist and squeezing it softly in desperation.

“Y-you can’t.” He urged and you felt his hands shaking around yours. “I mean you can b-but I’m really so sorry and my dad, he’d kill me.”

You shushed him as he started to ramble, petting his cheek and frowning deeply at what he had said. You figured Jake’s dad hurt his mother but you hadn’t considered it extending to his child as well. A strange surge of anger ran through you despite your own twisted intentions.

Scooting down a bit more so you were completely laid down, you put a hand on his back and pulled him towards you until he got the hint and curled into your side with a soft cry. He was stuffing his face back into your neck like he did yesterday and you rubbed his back softly.

You vaguely acknowledged the fact he was completely pressed against your side now, almost laying half on top of you in his emotional state.

“I won’t tell.” You whispered, his soft and messy hair tickling your face as you spoke. In his desperation for comfort he seemed to forget about not touching you, his arm coming up to wrap around your stomach, tugging you closer in a rush of thankfulness and your eyebrows raised in surprise. “But only if you answer my questions.”

He nodded immediately and picked his head up off your neck so he could look at you more clearly. He looked particularly cute like this you decided, his hair unstyled and still sticking up from where he’d slept on it and his soft pajamas that were rubbing against your legs.

“Did you touch yourself last night.” You held his chin as you spoke so he was looking up at you, his head almost resting against your chest as he peered with big wet eyes.

He was shaking his head as much as he could and furrowing his eyebrows like he did the last time you asked him. “I don’t- I wouldn’t. I don’t know how even.”

This fascinated you slightly. You figured he didn’t understand masturbating or its purpose outside of it being sinful but the fact he’d never once curiously touched himself was interesting. You wondered how many nights he laid in bed crying with confusion at the dull ache between his legs.

“Did you like being in my mouth?” Your voice dropped lower for the second question and an automatic whine slipped out from his lips, his face immediately flushing with embarrassment as he seemed to replay the memory.

He was nodding hesitantly much to your annoyance, you wanted to hear him say it but you figured you could take it easy on him today.

Maybe easy wasn’t the best way to describe your current plan for him considering the way you were suddenly pressing your thigh in between his legs, smiling at him when he groaned loudly and tightened his grip on you.

Your side burned slightly from the force in which he curled his hands up at the sudden contact.

“You’re hard.” You said matter of factly, telling the truth and not just teasing him. He was solid against your thigh now and you heard him whimper when you shifted slightly so his tight grip on you was more comfortable. “I barely said anything and you’re hard.”

He shook his head in disagreement but his hips twitched forward, rubbing his erection against you and making a low drawn out sound at the feeling.

“Did I say you could do that?” Your tone was harsh again and he immediately froze, groaning softly and tucking his head forward onto your chest. You let your hand go back to this hair, petting him for a second before gripping it tightly and tugging his head back up to look at you.

He winced at the pain, face contorted as he tried to scoot away from you. However he still didn’t remove his arm from around your stomach so he wasn’t able to go far, his hand still kneading against your side like he didn’t realize he was even moving it.

“Ask me.” You instructed him, still holding his hair in a tight fist. “Clear words, no crying bullshit.”

He looked momentarily taken back by you swearing and being so harsh but then he had a look of guilt like he was remembering the other day and he was attempting to nod in head in agreement.

“Please I want… I want you to touch me.” He settled on, not sure how to word what he needed. You smiled softly at him for his attempt but you weren’t convinced, deciding on helping him ask you properly.

“Tell me you’re disgusting.” You whispered, leaning your face forward so your nose was touching his again, like it did momentarily yesterday. “Say you want to hump my leg like a dog.”

He looked confused and overwhelmed at your words, shaking his head in refusal until you moved your leg again. It rubbed against him and you almost laughed at the fact he was almost harder now even after your tone changed. His hips chased the feeling and you tugged his hair again in warning, listening to his soft groan of frustration.

“I want..” He hiccuped softly and shook his head, trying to force the strange words from his mouth. “I want to hump your leg please please.”

You let go of his hair and his head fell back down onto your chest. He hadn’t completely fulfilled your request but it was good enough for now.

“Alright baby.” You didn’t need to say anything else for him to understand, immediately pulling you closer again and rocking against your side.

You listened to his soft little whines as he humped against you desperately, moving in messy motions as he tried to chase after the feeling he recognized from yesterday.

The feeling of his hand gripping your side was making your head spin a bit much to your irritation and you gripped it tightly, moving it off your waist. He seemed to misunderstand and instead placed it directly over your belly button where your sweater had ridden up, pushing down softly as he rubbed the soft skin of your stomach.

You let out a small groan and this seemed to ignite something in him because he let out a little cry and nuzzled further into you as he dragged his clothed cock over your hip harder.

“Tell me it feels good.” You instructed him and you felt more annoyance at the fact your voice came out breathy, not liking the effect he was having on you.

“S-so good.” He immediately responded and you felt his leg wrap around yours, trying to get closer to you despite it being impossible. “Going to die it’s good, it’s good.”

You laughed softly at his dramatic wording and pet his hair again, trying to get his attention. He slowed down the grinding of his hips to look at you and you nearly cooed at his hooded wet eyes, trying to focus on your face but struggling.

You were originally planning on teasing him some more, attempting to get him to repeat the words you wanted to hear earlier, but at the sight of his pretty overwhelmed face you couldn’t help yourself from leaning in and kissing him softly.

He yelped at the feeling, tensing up for a few seconds before closing his eyes and trying to kiss you back, failing miserably.

You laughed against his lips and you could feel him frowning, face getting red with embarrassment as he uncomfortably shifted against you.

“Come here.” You tapped his back softly and nudged him so he was fully on top of you, squishing you under him but making it so you could reach his mouth better. “Rub your cock on me while we kiss.”

He whined softly, nodding his head despite the flush on his face and you waited while he slowly experimented with the new position, practically in missionary now. When he started to move his hips again, his hard cock was now rubbing directly against your core and he faltered at the feeling, nearly collapsing on top of you.

You smiled at his reaction. You had full doubt that he knew what sex was or the fact he was basically imitating it but you imagine he could get the gist that what you were doing was wrong.

You leaned your head forward to kiss him again, easier now that he was on top of you and seemingly more eager to get it right this time. He was still sloppy, not really understanding how to move his mouth or when but you took over, moving your lips against his slowly.

He seemed to get the hang of it eventually and you could feel his thrust getting more desperate as the kiss got deeper and faster.

Your tongue was in his mouth before he even realized and he made a small startled sound, hips stopping against yours at the new feeling. He was letting out high pitched whines and moans as you licked into his mouth, him drooling slightly and desperately trying to keep your tongue where it was.

You could feel him sucking on it, twisting his head to try to get it deeper in his mouth and he instinctively gave a particularly hard thrust, causing you to moan into him.

This seemed to startle him, pulling back off your face with a wet chin and hooded eyes, looking down at you in amazement.

He did it again experimentally and you could feel the hard print of his cock directly against you, your back arching as your hand came up to grip his hair and stop him from doing it again. You were reminding yourself this wasn’t about your pleasure, you wanted to ruin him and nothing else.

But you couldn’t deny your attraction to him, almost the perfect boy for you if there was to ever be one.

It didn’t help he happened to have an impressive size on him, although you doubted he even realized he was bigger than usual or would know what to do if given that information.

You wrapped a leg around his side and he sucked in a breath, having better access now. He kept rolling his hips sloppily into you and moaning loudly, forgetting who he was or where he was currently at.

“What would mommy think if she saw you like this?” You took it upon yourself to remind him, whispering into his mouth with a pant and almost laughing at the way he immediately tensed and stopped humping against you. “If she walked it to see her son so desperate to sin.”

He was shaking his head and lifting it slightly to be able to look at you better, eyes welling up with tears as he glanced back over his shoulder at the closed door. You hadn’t been there long and you imagined church still had a few hours before it’d be over and they’d be heading back but he seemed to forget all this at the mention of his parents.

“I’m not.” His hair was messy in his face, bangs slightly damp from sweating and his previous tears. “I don’t want to sin, I don’t want to be bad. Please.”

You hummed softly at him, lips forming a mocking pout as you looked at him with gentle eyes. You stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes, leaning against your hand like a puppy.

“My poor baby.” You cooed and kissed him again briefly, he immediately chased after it when you pulled away and you tapped your finger on his cheek to stop him. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you.”

He seemed confused at what you meant but too drunk on the feeling of your touch and lips, chasing after them again in a messy kiss that was mostly just him trying to get his tongue back against yours.

You indulged him and let him lick into it, letting out soft desperate moans and you were suddenly realizing how much you were aching for him despite managing to keep a cool demeanor on the outside.

You shifted your leg that was wrapped around his middle and he seemed to remember that he was currently on top of you and he went back to writhing against your body, his hard on rubbing against you an almost painful amount now that you were granting him more access with the switched position.

He wasn’t able to hold himself up, curling up on your chest while he moved his lower body with sobs of pain and need.

“God, I thought it’d take longer to break you.” You were trying to make fun of him but your voice broke in a moan at the feeling of him pushing himself against your sensitive clit. “You’re so fucking nasty, look at yourself.”

He was shaking his head and crying fully now, chasing after a high he didn’t even understand and you were almost feeling dizzy from the pace he was going.

“I’m good.” He was blabbering out and looking at you again, trying to lean forward for a kiss but letting out a sharp cry midway and falling back down with his head on your chest.

“You’re a good boy Jake.” You cooed at him, nodding even though he couldn’t see you and he felt sick at the constant changing of your tones. “My good boy right?”

He was suddenly sitting up again, pulling himself against you so he could look at you directly in the eye, if he could see through his tears. He was nodding his head in earnest and you felt your lip quirk up in a smile.

“I’m yours. I want to be yours.” He was rushing out, hands leaving your stomach to balance on either side of you. His tone was pleading and you wondered if he even knew what he was asking for or if he was just repeating what you’d said dumbly.

You kissed him softly and he let out a shaky breath of relief against your lips. However he started to frown when you were suddenly pushing him off of you and patting the empty space on the bed right beside where you were laying. He looked confused and hurt but he didn’t ask any questions, simply rolling over and waiting to see what you were attempting to do.

You watched him for a few seconds, taking in the change of appearance in such a short amount of time.

He was laid back fully on the bed, eyes hooded and cloudy. His mouth was parted slightly as he panted, his chest rising and falling at a fast speed as his arm reached up to try and push his messy hair out of his face. You liked the way he looked like this, especially the way his shirt was ridden up on his stomach, a sliver of skin showing.

He started making small impatient whines and groans so you took mercy on him, flipping yourself over slightly so you could situate yourself on his lap.

You sucked in a breath the second you did, quickly shutting your lips tight after so he didn’t catch sight of the display of pleasure. He was hard underneath and pressed tightly against your core as you sat on him.

“Oh my god.” He was crying out and his hands jutted forward like he was going to grab your sides, stopping midway and flailing around as he didn’t know what he was meant to do with them.

“Touch me.” You spat at him, reaching down to grab his wrist and put his hands on your ass as you leaned forward so you were in a similar position to his a few minutes ago, laying on top of him.

He froze as he touched you and you almost scolded him for acting so prudish with touching you like he wasn’t just trying to fuck you through his cute little pajamas. However you figured it was harder for him to deliberately do something versus acting purely on the overwhelming lust he was feeling.

You gripped his jaw harshly in your hand, your nails digging into his skin slightly as you used your thumb to pull his mouth open and hummed with satisfaction.

“Say you want me inside you.” You whispered, leaning down to talk into his open mouth. You watched his eyes widen in confusion but you rubbed your hips against him as motivation and he immediately complied.

“Want you inside me.” He moaned out, big fat tears sliding down his face. “Y/N please I need it please.”

He didn’t even know what he was asking for but he was overwhelmed and sinking back down into that fuzzy headspace, willing to do anything to get pleasure from you.

You kept his mouth open after he was done speaking and he opened it wider for you, although not understanding where you were heading with this action. He watched with wide confused eyes as you leaned over him and slowly spit into his open mouth.

He cried out, hips bucking up instinctively at the sensation of your spit on his tongue so directly and you almost fell forward from the roughness in which he fucked himself up into you. You smacked his cheek lightly and he snapped his mouth shut with another moan, eyes shut in euphoria.

You hummed at him in approval, leaning back down to kiss him again and lick into his mouth, letting him turn his head sideways in an attempt to get your tongue as deep as possible. You wondered if he was purposely imitating the blowjob you’d given him or if he was just that desperate to be consumed.

“I’m going to take you to hell with me.” You whispered, pulling out of the kiss and petting his hair softly. He shook his head and let out a small sob, this time not from pleasure.

“Do you want to cum?” You didn’t address his denial or tease him further for now, knowing now you had him completely hooked. He was addicted to you and the feelings you gave him and no mean words would be able to keep him away from you.

He seemed hesitant in his nod, now once again thinking about the sins he was committing and the fact he was skipping church to touch a girl inappropriately. But he did eventually nod his head, eyes still watering.

“Then fuck me baby.” You rolled back over as you spoke, flopping onto your back and rubbing his chest through his shirt, slightly surprised by the thick build he had. He was immediately on top of you again and you almost laughed at his haste.

You didn’t mean it literally and you didn’t fear him taking it as such considering he didn’t even know what it meant, he just knew you were cursing and being dirty.

You wondered if he even knew what you had inside your pants, scrapping that idea for another time instead so you didn’t get yourself too worked up thinking about how much it would ruin him to feel you.

He didn’t last long once he was back on top of you, only a few seconds passed before he was letting out a loud cry and hiccuping, his hips jutting against you a few more times in aftershock before he was collapsing on top of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He was sobbing into your neck and you wrapped your arms around his back, rubbing it slowly with an eye roll. “I’m sorry, God please forgive me.”

——

Jake had fallen asleep on top of you shortly after that, exhausted from everything you’d been putting him through both mentally and physically.

You let him lay there on top of you surprisingly despite how uncomfortable it was and how much you kept readying yourself to shove him off of you and leave him without any comfort, you simply couldn’t.

You weren’t quite sure why, it wasn’t like being mean to him was going to ruin your plan and make him not want to talk to you anymore. He was trapped now with you.

Yet you found yourself staying and not only staying but watching him as he slept. He looked younger like this, despite always being very puppy like and boyish you couldn’t deny that Jake was a man and he could be an intimidating one if it wasn’t for his personality. His eyelashes were long and fluttering like he was having a vigorous dream and his back would rise and fall with every deep inhale he took.

By the time he woke up you’d been laying there for probably an hour or two staring at him or looking around his room with curiosity, you felt him shifting against you and almost pretended you were asleep before deciding against it.

He froze his movements when he realized where he was exactly, or at least who it was underneath him. Then he was rolling off of you onto his back with a groan and you were suddenly feeling very cold without his weight and body warmth.

“Did my parents come home?” His voice was low and groggy from sleep and crying and you turned your head to look at him now that you were laying side by side.

“Are you kidding? Like your mother isn’t going to run in here the first second the car parks and hose you down.”

He laughed softly at your words, almost a scoff and your lip quirked up in a smile at his casual reaction, knowing his guard must be down since he was still so tired.

“She wouldn’t do that.” He eventually whispered and you could feel his shoulder pressing against yours. “At least the hose part.”

“Is she as bad as mine?” You weren’t sure what prompted you to ask him something so personal or why you were even making conversation with him in the first place but you were suddenly curious.

“Not sure.” He was looking at you, you could feel it on the side of your head. “My dad is though.”

You hummed as a response, already figuring that from the times you’d interacted with him and the way Jake talked about him earlier. You felt a sudden wave of discomfort at your current situation and fidgeted in your spot on the bed.

“Are you going to leave?” His voice was a whisper still and he wasn’t looking at you anymore from what you could tell. He sounded slightly upset like the thought of you leaving wasn’t pleasant.

“You wanted me to earlier.” You scoffed softly but it was humorless, for some reason feeling offended at the reminder despite knowingly doing everything in your power to make him uncomfortable for your own satisfaction.

He didn’t say anything for a while and you listened to him breathing softly, wondering if he caught on to the hint of insecurity you were accidentally showcasing.

“Well… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He eventually said and you barely heard him considering how low his voice had gotten.

“See you tomorrow Jake.”

——

Tuesday’s were another day that your schedule was slightly shifted after church service. You had always been instructed to some form of community service on that day of the week, wether is be picking up trash or teaching a small class to the elders and children.

You didn’t mind this despite your distaste for religion. You got some sick satisfaction from watching religious people interact, like babies excitedly chatting about fairy tails and wishing for a big grand gesture to fix their own shitty lives.

Plus it got you out of your house and kept you slightly on the good side of your mother typically although you doubt with your recent actions you’d ever be on that side of the fence again.

So it was particularly annoying when you were tasked to clean the church basement, an area usually unseen by anybody in the town including yourself.

It was a mess of overfilled shelves and baskets stacked to the brim with old holiday decorations or donations from past families that were never put to use.

You’d been hesitant to agree, having to try ten times harder than usual to apply your usual fake smile towards your father when you graciously nodded and accepted the task. Luckily a handful of other volunteers had also followed you down the creaky stairs, one of them being Jake.

Not on his own volition considering the way his eyes bulged out of his head when his father roughly nudged him as you stood at the center of the stage requesting helping hands. He hesitantly held his in the air and avoided making eye contact with you as you smiled happily.

The same smile you held now as you stood side by side with him, taking things off the shelves and throwing them into a trash pile. He looked more anxious than usual, like he was genuinely worried you’d try to do something to him while people were watching.

“Miss Y/N?” One of the older women who had volunteered was approaching the two of you, holding a small basket of, what looked like, old arts and crafts. “I found this and was wondering if you thought your father might want to hang them up in the youth study room?”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea ma’am.” You were smiling widely at her, eyes soft and full of light. “You should bring them up to him.”

She was smiling appreciatively at you before turning and heading back up the stairs, missing the way your smile immediately dropped back into a blank expression.

Jake however, didn’t miss it and you heard him scoff from next to you as he observed the interaction. You glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and he shrugged.

“Don’t you get tired of doing that all the time?” He questioned and you faltered slightly. You hadn’t ever really considered it as something you were doing necessarily so his statement threw you off.

“I don’t know… I do it with everybody. I just do it.” You shrugged and awkwardly looked away from him, feeling confronted.

“You don’t do it with me.” He suddenly declared and you were reminded that you didn’t actually know Jake or his personality that well, completely caught off guard by his bluntness.

“Maybe because I knew you were just as bad as me.” You dropped your voice into a small whisper, leaning closer to him slightly as he glanced around to see which volunteers were over in your side of the basement.

He picked up an old toy and tossed it off in the distance, shaking his head in denial. “That’s not true at all.”

“Why isn’t it?” You cocked your head at him and stopped rummaging through the shelf, more interested in what he was saying. You turned your body so you were facing him and could lean against the wood.

“I believe in this.” He looked around the room as if to emphasize what he was referring to. “I love god.”

“Do you? Or have you just been told to?” You were already sure of the answer but you were curious what he would say about that, if he’s ever sat and thought that over or if his faith was really that unwavering.

“I never questioned it before.” He confirmed with a stern voice, sending you a sharp look so you would understand he was serious. “Not once in my life until we moved here. Not once until..”

He trailed off but the implication was heavy and he looked away with a bright flush on his face. He was obviously referring to you and you felt a small spark of satisfaction at the fact he was implying you were the first thing to ever make him doubt, implying that he was doubting at all.

He scowled slightly when he noticed the bright smile that was on your face, one you didn’t even realize you had.

“I’m serious Y/N. If anyone ever found out I…” He didn’t finish his sentence again but you could get the gist of what he was implying, your smile dropping into a frown.

“You think I don’t know that? The stakes are way higher on my side of things incase you forgot.” Your tone was harsher now but you were taking a step closer to him, not bothering to check if anybody was watching. “But you’re mine right? Like you said?”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, turning to face you and taking a big gulp when he realized you were practically close enough to kiss now. You waited for him to say something against your claim, to tell you he had been lust drunk or he didn’t mean it.

Instead he slowly nodded, eyes shooting down awkwardly to your feet. His shy expression was one you were more familiar seeing him with and your smile returned.

“Can you come over today?” You whispered and he looked back at you with a shocked expression, clearly not expecting you to say that. “I have something to show you.”

He was nodding again, not trusting himself to speak without stuttering and you grinned, turning back to the shelf and continuing with your sorting.

——

By the time church was over and Jake got to your house, you were already sat outside on the porch in a big sweater and a scarf wrapped around your neck.

“Are we not.. going in?” He was standing at the end of your driveway, putting his bikes kickstand down and watching you with a confused expression.

“I said I had to show you something didn’t I?” He watched you as you stood from the cement slab, grabbing your own bike from off the side of your house and walking it down towards him with a half smile.

He didn’t say anything as you both got on your bikes, following behind you as you rode off the curb and down the street.

The ride was long and cold, the sky grey as you passed by old houses and empty shops that’d been abandoned as the owners aged. Jake found the town sad a bit but he was curious what you were leading him too and slightly excited that you wanted to spend time with him in a different way than normal.

Eventually you were crossing the threshold of the city limit, a big sign with chipping paint that was welcoming you in or wishing you safe travels out.

After that it wasn’t long before you were slowing to a stop, surrounded by trees and a large field. Jake watched you get off your bike with a raised eyebrow, waiting until you looked back at him with a beckoning hand.

“It’s this way.” You urged and he hopped off, pushing the bikes alongside each other until you were on the other side of the muddy field, approaching a large river. The sound of it was loud as it rushed but not loud enough to block out the noise of the highway across from it, just off in the distance.

Jake watched it as you unpacked your backpack that he didn’t even realize you’d been wearing until now, unfolding a thick blanket and laying it down on the wet grass.

“They can’t build houses over here because the river always overflows.” You started to explain, pulling out a thermos and something wrapped in paper towel as you talked. “The water levels higher than usual because all the rain we get.”

“Sometimes I wonder if they even know we are over here.” You continued with a scoff, sitting criss cross on the blanket now and looking over at Jake who was dropping his bike.

He sat down too, carefully keeping his wet and muddy shoes off of the fabric.

“Do you come here a lot?” He was muttering what felt like his first words of the day, looking around the area and seeing virtually no signs of civilization other than the highway. He wondered for a second if you had even been able to hear him over the sound of it.

“I guess. There isn’t much else to do if you haven’t noticed by now.” You were shrugging as you spoke, you stuck one of your legs out so it nudged against his.

“I’ve been pretty occupied since I’ve gotten here so I guess I didn’t.” His words made you laugh although he was being serious, only having gone from home to church to your room.

He didn’t say anything as you laughed and he still didn’t when you were suddenly moving out of your sitting position, crawling towards him on all fours until you could press yourself against him.

Every part of you was touching as you sat side by side, both facing the rushing river and trying to not focus on how cold it was outside, the sky slowly darkening now since it was around dinner time. That reminded you that you had packed sandwiches and you were leaning forward slightly to reach them, handing him one and watching him unwrap the paper towel in confusion.

His cheeks turned red when he saw what it was, glancing at you and nodding softly in appreciation before taking a bite.

“Why are we here?” He was breaking the silence the two of you had fallen into as you ate and passed the warm thermos back and forth, watching the highway and the building traffic.

“I don’t know.” You felt strangely vulnerable at this question, not really knowing yourself why you’d taken him to such a private place. “Don’t think too deeply about it.”

Your sudden change of tone made him frown and tense against you, a harshness seeping into your words as you reminded him what type of relationship you had going here.

To further prove your point that this wasn’t anything being sin and attraction, you were quickly turning your upper body so you could face him before leaning forward and pressing into a kiss. He froze completely for a few seconds, brain short circuiting at the sudden contact.

Then he was closing his eyes slowly and kissing you back, a low him of appreciation slipping through your lips and vibrating against his.

You turned your body more so you could climb over his legs, straddling him and making a small noise of surprise when his hands were immediately on your lower back, tugging you in tighter against him.

The two of you kissed like that for a while, you sitting comfortably in his lap and feeling him grow hard underneath you embarrassingly quick. He felt strong and sturdy under you but he was letting out little whines and whimpers and he kept trying to pull you in closer, almost like he was trying to merge the two of you together.

Then you were sitting up on your knees and tugging your long skirt up so it was bunched around your hips, mouth parting slightly at the feeling of the cold air nipping at your bare skin. He watched you with confusion, eyes darting around your legs so fast he felt dizzy.

You sat back down on his hard on, now only separated by his jeans and your underwear and he let out a low moan, shooting forward and ducking his head forward into your neck.

“Y/N.” He whined out and you shushed him, petting his hair and rocking your hips slowly against him, liking the way his mouth parted against your skin as he took deep shuddering breaths.

“I want you to feel me.” You were whispering into his hair and he picked his up in alarm, shaking his head and glancing down at your exposed lap.

“I- I don’t know how.” He was rushing out and you laughed softly, reaching down to grab his wrist off the blanket and pick his hand up.

You placed it against your stomach like it was the other day when he was pressing on it absentmindedly, letting him feel the smooth skin above your underwear line for a while before pushing his hand down slightly past the elastic and listening to his gasp.

You were still rocking against him but slower now, letting him feel you for the first time at his own pace and trying not to overwhelm him.

His hand was shaking fast, from the cold and nerves. You imagined he could feel his own hand pressing against his cock as he kept moving it down, trapping it between the both of you. You dipped down again when he hesitatingly stopped moving it once he was fully in your underwear and he let out a cry at the feeling of your wetness against his skin.

“W-what?” He was crying out in concern, eyes shooting up to look at yours. “Are you okay? Are you bleeding?”

“I’m wet.” You explained to him with a breathy voice despite the fact you knew he didn’t understand what that would mean or if it was good or bad. “Means I feel good, you make me feel good.”

That seemed to alarm him more than the idea of you bleeding, his hand instinctively twitching and pressing against you. You leaned down to kiss him again and he reciprocated, forgetting his hand was on you for a few seconds before you were lowering your hips again.

He wasn’t doing anything but just the feeling of his large hands cupping you was making you feel dizzy, rocking against him again despite the strange noise he let out.

“Touch me baby c’mon.” He looked up at you at the sound of your urging, eyes big and wet. He looked nervous but he hesitatingly moved his fingers, curling slightly and pressing against your clit. You let out a cry and he immediately froze, mistaking it for pain. “No Jake, it’s okay do it again.”

He didn’t look sure but he followed your instructions anyways, curling his hand up and being amazed by the way you threw your head back in a small cry.

The two of you seemed to forget about your surroundings, about the rushing lake or the freezing air that was only making the cold grass more bitter to sit in. You almost forgot who you were or the fact you were only a few minutes outside of town, practically riding Jake in a field visible to anyone who cared.

“You’re so pretty.” You remarked and he frowned at your gentle word causing you to lean forward and kiss him softly. “I want to keep you forever.”

You were too lust drunk to think about the heavy implication of your words or the fact saying them went against everything you’d previously been attempting. The whole reason you’d even started touching him today was to distract him from the fact you’d taken him to a place personal to you, to make him forget your act of kindness.

“You can keep me.” He was stuttering out in a high voice, not really sure if you meant what you were saying considering how confusing he found you, how strange this whole situation was.

Jake had accepted at some point that his life was changing now and for some reason, god had put you in his path. At first he figured you were some type of test of faith, if he could just ignore you and your evil nature then he’d be able to prove he was a good man, a holy man. But he began to wonder eventually if you were truly as terrible as he originally thought, as his mother kept remarking every time his father wasn’t in the room.

You made him cry and you occasionally would say terrible things to him. And it was no doubt you had a habit of sinning and making him sin, even when he didn’t want to.

But he thought you were kind at other times and he could tell by the way you zoned out in church during service and were nice to the young residents or helpful to the old, that you didn’t have no emotion. Maybe you were right, although you had a twisted way of teaching him about it.

You were leaning down to kiss him again and he was taking his hand out of your underwear, wiping it on his pants briefly before cupping your face in both his palms and keeping you there.

“Did I ruin you?” You were muttering against his panting mouth with a small smile, hands petting his hair affectionately.

“Almost.” He answered with a slight laugh, kissing you again.

——

By the time you and Jake had left the field, giggling together while you stuffed the wet blanket back into your backpack and jumped over mud puddles, the sun was set and gone.

You followed the streetlights home, walking the bikes side by side the entire time so the 20 minute ride turned into an hour walk.

You went a few streets without talking for a while, listening to the sounds of your tires rolling over gravel or the music nature provided from the surrounding woods just off in the distance. By the time you were crossing back into city limits and setting your sights on the abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town, your curiosity was weighing on you.

“Why did you move here anyways?” You were mumbling on accident so you weren’t sure he had heard you until he cleared his throat.

“A council member caught dad hitting mom.” He said it casually and you wondered if he was used to it or it was a practiced tone. “I guess they thought it’d look bad to punish him there so they sent us away.”

“Does he hit you too?” You weren’t sure why you asked that considering you were already pretty positive of the answer.

“Yeah sometimes.” He shrugged and tried not to fidget at the feeling of you watching him, kicking at a loose rock in the gravel road. “I think he’s mad I’m not very manly.”

“I think you’re manly.” You were frowning and furrowing your eyebrows, only deepening when you heard him let out a disbelieving scoff. “I’m serious.”

And you were. Despite Jake’s outwardly timid personality and the way he basically turned into a nervous obedient puppy everytime you got your hands on him, he was clearly a man. Both in his broad athletic build and in his day to day actions and personality. He was blunt and honest, telling you what he felt even if he thought it might anger you.

“Yeah, whatever.” He was whispering, still not trusting what you were saying and you froze in your tracks, stood directly under a streetlight. He slowed to a stop when he realized you were walking anymore and looked back at you in confusion.

“You wouldn’t have picked on me if I was manly.” He was explaining once he caught sight of your frustrated expression. “You probably wouldn’t have even noticed me.”

“You think I’m picking on you?” You ignored his second statement for now, eyes darkening at the implication of the first.

You weren’t sure why it struck a nerve within you considering he wasn’t half wrong. You had originally sought him out as a victim for you, an experiment or a game. Maybe even a way to further upset your mother, but you didn’t think he thought you were picking on him entirely.

“I don’t know what to think.” He was shaking his head and his eyes looked sad. He started to push his bike again and you rushed to catch up with him. “This is just confusing.”

“Well I’m not.” You kept your voice firm in an attempt to assure him and he didn’t say anything else, sparing you a long glance before looking back forward so he didn’t accidentally hit a pothole.

The two of you didn’t talk anymore after that, walking in a comfortable silence as you slowly got to a more familiar area for him and he realized you were slowly approaching his neighborhood. You must be planning on dropping him off before making you own way home he decided.

Those plans were quickly halted when you turned the corner of his street and saw your own parents car in his driveway, right next to the Sim’s. You both froze in place and stared in front of you in horror.

“Maybe it’s a coincidence.” He whispered and you jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, the words shaking slightly. “We can tell them we got caught up studying at the park.”

“If they’re here they already know.” You immediately stated in a flat voice, having a sick gut feeling as you looked at the two cars. The lights were on in Jake’s living room and you could vaguely make out multiple shadows walking around inside. “I don’t understand.”

“Maybe your dad heard something the other day.” He was rushing out in a hush, looking at you and your uncharacteristically frozen figure. He’d never seen you scared before and it made his skin crawl. “Or that lady in the basement.”

“No that’s not possible, I was-“ Your words faltered and you sucked in a panicked breath, trying to recall the two incidents he was talking about. You had been so caught up in your giddiness to talk to him that you hadn’t paid attention to your surroundings this morning at all, saying damning idiotic things to him in the church of all places.

His hand was coming up and brushing against your arm that was covered in goosebumps. “Go home. I’ll think of a cover for you, I’ll handle it.”

You looked at him with big eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence and the fact he was willingly to lie for you so easily, willing to sin to both his parents and yours so you could be spared from punishment.

“I can’t leave you with them.” You were shaking your head in earnest and he deflated, understanding immediately there was no way of talking you out of it.

You both stood there for a few more beats, staring at each other under the street light and you briefly wondered if you’d see him again after this. You weren’t sure what your parents knew or if they were just following a strong hunch but you knew it didn’t matter. The second they suspected anything, atleast the men, you wouldn’t be allowed to see Jake anymore.

Eventually he took the first step, setting his bike down at the corner of the street and nudging for you to follow suit although you gave him a confused glance.

Following closely behind him, you tried to match his slow casual pace approaching the door and almost felt like you were going to throw up on the porch when he pushed it open without knocking, deciding to not give them any warning you were approaching.

The sight was just as dreadful as you imagined it would be, your parents sat on the Sim’s old couch while his were standing at attention and listening to whatever it was your father had been saying before your arrival.

All heads turned in your direction when you entered, half looking surprised you were together and the others showing no reaction. Your mother was immediately leaping up from the couch and approaching you with a scowl.

You felt her hand hitting your cheek before you even processed she was crossing the room, your head shooting sideways as your own palms came up to grasp your face in shock. Despite your differences, your mother had never directly struck you.

“You’re a disgrace.” She spat, literally, in your direction and you vaguely saw Jake flinch in your direction like he wanted to grab you. “No more games little girl, they finally see what I have all these years.”

One glance in your fathers direction told you she was telling the truth. He’d never been a good father but he wasn’t cruel, choosing religion over warmth and parenting. So upon seeing his cold stare you automatically knew things were too far gone.

“And you.” She was turning to sneer in Jake’s direction now and you were slightly surprised to see him square back his shoulders, jaw clenching. “How can you be so stupid?”

“Mary, please advise yourself on how you speak to my son.” Jake’s mother was piling up from the couch “I thought we agreed that your daughter is the one at fault here.”

“What?” Jake was spitting out and your eyes widened, wanting to tell him to shut up and let it run its course. “It was as much me as it was her.”

“No it wasn’t.” You were shaking your head at lightning speed, taking a step forward but rocking back again when your mother shot a glare in your direction. “It was all me.”

Jake was glaring at you but you knew he held no anger, only frustration that you were attempting to take the punishment for this. He was crazy to think you wouldn’t considering it was all your doing in the first place.

“It doesn’t matter.” Your fathers cool and calm voice was ringing out and everybody turned to look at him. “Tomorrow morning Y/N will be sent to a correctional school. I should’ve listened to your mother when she begged me to send you years ago.”

Your eyes were watering as you looked at him with pure betrayal. Despite your hatred for your town, for your longing to leave and never return you felt an overwhelming sense of panic at the thought of being sent away. You looked over at Jake to find him already watching you with the same panic in his eyes.

Then he was turning back towards your father with a shake of his head and a stony expression. “I won’t let you do that.”

Jake’s father scoffed, making his first noise of the night and you glanced over at his large frame. He was watching Jake with disgust and amusement but you saw a faint hint of a challenge in his eyes.

“And what will you do son?” He was approaching Jake with a sneer, looking down at him. Jake raised his chin to meet his stare, his hands shaking against his sides. “You can’t even protect your own mother.”

It was said in a whisper so only Jake could hear it but you were standing close enough to faintly catch it, mouth parting in shock at his blunt admission before opening further when Jake was suddenly moving faster than you could even pinpoint when he had started.

Jake was on his father before he even had a chance to prepare for it and you could hear the shrieks of the women, your own fathers grunts as he jumped off the couch to try and control the situation. You were standing on the side, hands out and trying to grip a hold of Jake’s jacket to tug him back when he glanced back at your hurriedly while his dad was disoriented.

“Go.” He mouthed the word at you and you felt your heart shatter slightly, shaking your head in denial before he gave you a firm nod and a soft smile.

You could do nothing but watch in horror as his dad took advantage of him being distracted, slamming Jake onto the ground, nearly blocking the front door. You took your chance to run before somebody realized you were going to and stopped you, sparing Jake one last look before heading out the door.

You aggressively wiped your tears as you ran down the street, sobbing as you could still hear the screams and grunts of pain from Jake coming from the door you’d left open. Your cheek was stinging still but you powered through it, letting the cold numb you as you hopped on your bike you’d abandoned under the light and started peddling so hard your thighs burned.

The wind was howling as you sped past your own neighborhood and the church, the empty buildings a blur through your teary eyes and you fell off your bike once you finally approached the field you’d been in earlier that day, landing in the mud with a cry.

You left your bike near the entrance, wobbling closer to the river with harsh sobs ripping through you, your knees and skirt dripping in mud.

For a moment you wondered if this was it. If you’d been wrong your entire life about religion and sin and this was god letting you know he was here and he was furious with you for the evil you let harvest.

If taking Jake and hurting him was all because you had done bad things and harmed the people around you. You let out a scream of frustration and looked up at the dark grey, wanting to tell him you didn’t care if he was watching and it wasn’t fair.

Instead you let yourself fall against the wet grass, curling into a ball and hugging your knees to your chest as you listened to the rushing river and the honks of traffic. You briefly remembered you were still wearing your backpack and it contained a blanket you could cover up with but you had no energy left to reach back to get it.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there crying, the sky getting darker and darker as you sat and waited.

You weren’t positive what you were even waiting for. Maybe for your parents to come searching for you so they could drag you away to some far away place or maybe the more hopeful part of you was waiting for Jake to come, to tell you he was okay.

The thought of him made you cry harder when you remembered the sounds he was making as you ran out and how furious his father looked about being struck. A man with an ego was dangerous especially when it got wounded.

Waves of guilt were rushing over you for dragging Jake into your twisted fantasies, for wanting to keep him even after you’d gotten what you wanted. For liking him despite not knowing you were capable of that until he arrived. You wished the river would fill up and swallow you inside it.

Over all the combined sounds you barely registered a few being added.

You didn’t hear the sound of the bike tires approaching, or the splashing of the mud puddles underneath hurried feet. You didn’t hear his worried pants or the desperate call of your name in the distance.

It wasn’t until he was there did you feel him, it wasn’t until he was reaching down to grab your arm.

Not until it was skin on skin.

[dazedhee]

this is an actual work of art

sun keeps rising (like it tends to do)

pairing: jay park x fem!reader

summary: being the mum friend is rewarding, if not a little tricky—you would know. it wouldn't hurt to let someone look after you for once, would it?

genres: summer au, strangers to lovers, (friends-in-law to lovers really), smut, fluff, angst (sorry !!!)

warnings: minors dni, nct jeong jaehyun it is always nct jaehyun, tbh the angst is p mild you'll be fine, light self-sabotage, ningning is the maknae, accidentally made jay a freak.. my bad, appearances from JEONG JAEHYUN from nct (speedy return king), possible inaccuracies regarding the cooking process..

word count: 39,982 (had a lot to say after a year out ig)

playlist: ordinary things (feat. nonna) ariana grande, juna clairo

author's note: heyyyyyy.. been a while lmao.. my fault !!! 2024 really got away from me it's literally been a year since my last fic barely exaggerating.......................... whatever.. thanks to emma for the beta as always, heart u so bad little miss asahicore ! as always, enjoy the fic and lmk your thoughts even if you hate it and hope i never write again :D

You realise there is something about Park Jay the night you meet him at the bonfire—when he tells you he doesn’t want to sleep with you. 

“You don’t want to sleep with me?” you repeat, amused. 

He’s sitting beside you in the sand, watching the side of your face whenever you watch the fire. Embers lift into the darkness of summer. You’re part of a broken circle of (soon-to-be) fourth-years dangling cigarettes and beer cans from their fingers as the tide rolls quietly. You don’t know him, not really, despite sharing a university and some friends, but tonight, you’re talking. A little. Small talk at first, for a while. Trading information about majors and extracurriculars—Law, football, and music for Jay; Literature, and film for you. 

His sudden confession catches you so off-guard you can’t even remember what led you there. You have no idea how you’d gone from casual conversation to.. whatever this is. Jay seems as thrown as you, a mildly terrified look flashing across his face, letting a very slow beat pass before he tilts his head. “Not really,” he admits.

You don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything at all. He takes this as a cue to keep talking, and you let him, his hand gesturing towards you when he says, “You’re obviously attractive. We just.. don’t know each other.” 

Obviously, he said. You can’t help smiling at that. Egged on by alcohol and his compliment, you hold his gaze. “Not yet.” 

Jay gulps, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he shakes his head. “No, not-not yet.” 

And so, you spend the night talking, sitting so close that heat radiates from his bare knees across the inch of space between you. You let him steer the conversation, and he doesn’t seem opposed, guiding it this way and that while you hang onto his every word. The two of you talk about your favourite movies, embarrassing childhood memories, places you want to visit, and random thoughts that pop into your head. 

Even after the fire dies out, the crowd clears, and it gets so chilly you start to shudder, you stay there, talking with Jay, shoulders touching under the blanket he brought. 

In the quiet falling between you, the sea kisses the sand gently at the shore, and the smell of smoke tickles your nostrils. The feeling of Jay’s eyes on you grows harder to ignore. He doesn’t look away when you look at him. Instead, he meets your gaze with a smile. 

“What is it?” you ask, playing with the frayed thread at the edge of his blanket. 

“You’re so different in real life.” 

The grin on his face makes you grin too, though you tilt your head in faux contemplation. “Yes,” you say, conspiratorially. “In real life, I’m three-dimensional.”

Jay chuckles, shaking his head. “I was going to say you’re taller.” 

Even if you tried, you couldn’t hide your surprise or the way you sat up straighter, jaw falling open upon hearing his words. You haven’t been considered tall since you were ten, standing in the back row for a photo with your Brownie troop—by the time you’d moved up to Guides, you were one year older and two rows shorter, standing in front with the younger girls and short sixteen-year-olds. 

If the grin on his face is anything to go by, your shock amuses him, and you can’t help but grin back. “Do I look short on Instagram?” you ask, genuinely curious. 

He thinks about it sincerely, eyes trailing over every inch of your body before meeting yours again, a thoughtful tilt of his head to the left as he holds his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Well, you’re like this height on Instagram, so yeah, I think you do.” 

“Instagram isn’t to scale?” You make a show of your mock distress when he shakes his head, holding your own head in your hands and only letting a laugh slip when he does. “So all this time I’ve been catfishing everyone?” 

Jay pulls air through his teeth, a solemn expression on his face. “Afraid so,” he says, laughing when you do.

And like it’s the most natural thing to do in the world, like you’ve known him for years, for ever, you nudge him in the ribs, faux offence written all over your face. 

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger!” He raises his hands defensively, lips stretched from ear to ear. “Tall women are great, don’t even worry about it,” he adds.

“I’m five foot four,” you point out.

“And that’s like.. 5 whole feet and 3 inches taller than I thought you’d be!” Jay laughs for a while at his own joke, and you laugh too even though you’d rolled your eyes at him. 

“Thank you, I guess.” 

Jay shrugs, an easy smile on his lips as he watches you, his eyes flickering over your face before meeting yours. For the first time all night, he hesitates, gaze falling to your lips for a moment so brief you wonder if you imagined it. He takes a beat, finding his words, all traces of his playful demeanour softening, giving way to something you can’t quite place. “In real life, it’s so much harder to look away from you.” There’s sincerity written all over his face and clear in his tone—he doesn’t even seem embarrassed by how forward he’s being. 

Again, he’s caught you off-guard, flustered you completely. It’s all a bit disarming—in the best of ways. Your heart races. Warmth settling in your cheeks, creeping down the back of your neck. Your mind is reeling, hoping he’s being as sincere as he looks, hoping you’re not making a big deal out of nothing. Giddiness, or maybe alcohol, sets off a tickly flutter in your stomach regardless. The air around you is lighter, and you can’t help but hide your face in your hands, doing all you can to conceal your grin. Unfortunately, hiding your face does nothing for the giggle that breaks free. 

When you finally calm down, you look at him—his face is much closer to yours, or, at least, it seems to be. Jay’s smile widens, his gaze softening again as he watches you. He reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a moment, touch searing your skin. 

“You’re just so,” he starts, but simply shakes his head, his expression saying what his words won’t. 

You settle back into a comfortable silence, stealing glances and sharing smiles while listening to the murmured chatter of whatever other students are left on the beach. As time passes, the air growing cooler and the stars shining brighter above you, the two of you sit there like you have all night, content in the quiet. 

Until Jay breaks it with a yawn he tries and fails to stifle. Amusement pulls your lips up at the corners, a soft laugh slipping out. “I see I’m boring you now,” you tease. 

“Not at all.” Jay sits up straighter, shaking his head seriously. “Just more relaxed than I’ve been in a while.” 

You nod, understanding the sentiment. Tonight has been great, better than you thought it would be. But as much as you want to stay in this moment, your eyes become heavier, and yawns become harder to hold back. 

“I didn’t expect to enjoy tonight so much,” he says after a beat, looking up at the sky. “I almost stayed home.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” 

Jay turns his head to meet your gaze, grinning. “Me too.” 

His eyes linger on yours, falling to your lips when you smile. He’s closer now, close enough to kiss if you want to, if he wants to. Instead, he pulls the blanket tighter around you, his knee brushing against yours, and you stay like that until the cold becomes too much to bear. 

Hours later — when everyone’s gone home, and the only proof tonight even happened is the sand lodged beneath your fingernails and the stubborn smell of smoke clinging to your twice-washed hair — you get into bed with a smile on your face, thinking it’ll be a one-time, memorable night where you spoke to a friend-in-law for the first time, and there was nothing more to it than that. But his smile keeps you up that night. And again the night after. 

It’s June 20th, the first day of summer—according to the calendar at least. Ask you or any of your friends, and summer began sometime in the middle of April when you were all wine-drunk in Yizhuo’s apartment, watching rain attack the windows as you celebrated Jeno’s birthday. Not even finals could dwindle your summer spirit. Nights out were meticulously scheduled around exam timetables, with Jaemin even dragged out for Hwang Yeji’s birthday party the night before his 9 a.m. pharmacology final—leaving the party at dawn and the exam hall with an A, because Na Jaemin is nothing short of a hard worker. 

The weather hasn’t always cooperated, but as far as you guys are concerned, it has been summer for two whole months, and with Yizhuo’s AC still busted, the group has no option but to gather at your and Minjeong’s place instead—though you can think of a few alternatives. As the second-most sober person in the flat, you find yourself on a 9 p.m. ice cream run with your competition: completely sober Jaemin. The heat is sweltering despite the time, relentless, so intense you swear there’s a hole burning in the back of your vest. All the same, Jaemin walks beside you with his lips set into a small smile, the way they always are. 

As the street bakes around you and sunburnt kids sprint past with skateboards tucked under their arms, you walk in comfortable silence. You don’t comment on the sweat on his bare arm whenever it brushes yours, and he does the same for you. His sunglasses are propped up in his hair, pulling it back off his forehead and revealing the sweat beading along his hairline.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he says, glancing at you. “I needed the company.” 

If it wasn’t for the way Jaemin forced you out the door, you might’ve thought he was being sweet. But he did force you, lifting you off your feet and over the threshold before you even had a chance to protest—not that you would have.

You roll your eyes and Jaemin chuckles, letting you enter the shop first as the double doors open, a much-needed blast of cold air hitting your skin. You let out a sigh of relief, stepping inside and letting him lead the way, basket in hand. The narrow aisles of the off-licence are cosy in the heat, and the two of you linger in the dairy section where the open fridges cool your skin. The light draught is nice, and clearly, Jaemin thinks so too, standing in place with his free hand on his hip, eyeing the butter with a thoughtful look. 

It’s hard to look away from him, the stiffness of his posture catching your eye as you try to gauge his mood. You turn your words over in your head, searching for the right thing to say—expressing your sincerity without spoiling his mood. For as long as you’ve known Jaemin, he’s never spoken seriously with you about anything, always finding a way to steer the conversation in another direction, which is why you know you need to choose your words delicately. 

“I heard about your placement, by the way.” The words come out so quickly and with such force you startle yourself, though he doesn’t react. “I’m sorry you didn't get it.”

He takes so long to respond you wonder if, like he always seems to be, he’s thinking the same thing you are—or if he’s even heard you at all. A long quiet moment stretches over the aisle before he sighs, tilting his head as his eyes meet yours. “I’m not,” he says, and you can tell he means it. “It went to a grad student. They deserved it more.” 

“No one deserved that slot more than you, Jaem. That clinic is stupid.” 

His lips curl into a lopsided grin as he nudges your shoulder with his palm. “They’re not stupid for hiring someone more qualified, Duckie. But I do feel good hearing you say that.” 

You beam at him, relieved. “That stupid, stupid clinic.”

“That stupid, stupid clinic.” Jaemin nods, his grin widening.

Like before, you trail after him, laughing as you walk in step toward the frozen food aisle. Jaemin pulls on one of the freezers, the door yawning open with a sharp hiss, cold air spilling out onto your skin like something from a dream, crisp, refreshing. Enough to make you sigh with exaggerated relief as he opens the door next to you, letting you hog the first one.

“Feels like heaven,” you whisper, savouring the coolness. 

“Liar,” Jaemin says through a laugh, flicking your shoulder with his fingers. “You said it was only two cans of cider.” 

“It was only two cans of cider.” Your tone comes out defensive, but not on purpose.  

“Right.” He draws out the word and mischief shines in his eyes when you look at him. “If I knew your tolerance had gotten so shit, I’d have brought Jaehyun instead.” 

The suggestion of that lightweight in your place makes you cackle. “Don’t even. Jaehyun just has to see a bottle before he’s crying over that dead plant.” 

“Wait.” Jaemin pauses, puzzled. “Injang was a plant?” 

“Yes, a cactus.” 

“Huh,” he utters, seeming to consider this for a moment, as if for the first time. “I always thought Injang was, like, a pet or something—a sibling maybe?” 

“You’re a mess.” 

“Yeah, like you’re any better.” 

“Jaem.” You scoff. “I have seen you get lost in your own apartment after a mimosa.” 

Jaemin opens his mouth to retort, but before he can say anything, his phone starts ringing in his pocket—killing the words on the tip of his tongue. You smirk, sensing a victory, and he rolls his eyes at the timing. “It’s Jeno,” he says, answering the call. 

Jeno’s voice comes through the phone so loud Jaemin cringes, yanking it from his ear. You can hear the accusation in Jeno’s tone as he asks what’s taking you guys so long. Jaemin’s eyes dart around the store before landing on you, wide and begging for your help. You stare back, shrugging helplessly—you’re as stuck as he is. 

“Traffic,” Jaemin blurts out at last, grinning—pleased with himself. 

On the other side of the phone, Jeno doesn’t seem to share his amusement, repeating the word traffic like it’s the most bizarre suggestion he’s ever heard. “You walked.” 

Jaemin’s gaze snaps back to you, and you lean out from behind the freezer door. “Foot traffic,” you offer, rather unhelpfully, though he’s impressed—observing you through the glass with a glint of admiration in his eyes, smiling when do. 

“Whatever,” Jeno huffs. “Just hurry up.” And with that, he cuts the call. 

From the corner of your eye, you see Jaemin putting his phone away and glancing at you with a knowing smile, but you’re already scanning the freezer for the flavours you know your friends like. Jaemin grabs an orange-flavoured Calippo and waves it in front of your face, raising a brow when you look at him as if to ask this one? You nod, amused, as he tosses it — and one for himself — into the basket.

After making sure you’ve gotten everyone’s favourites, you close the freezer. Jaemin, however, lingers, enjoying the breeze with his eyes shut. 

“Come on,” you say, nudging him with your shoulder as you start towards the till. “Let’s head back before Jen sends a search party.” 

He chuckles, walking with you and swinging the basket before emptying it into the conveyor. The cashier doesn’t look at you as he rings you up. You don’t try to argue with Jaemin when he says he’ll pay, nor do you offer to help him with the bags, knowing he won’t let you.

Outside, the heat slams into you, worse now than earlier. The sun is sinking towards the horizon, glaring directly into your eyes. Unfortunately, your sunglasses are buried somewhere in your room, abandoned in your rush to leave, so you bring your hand up to shield your eyes. Noticing this, Jaemin takes his sunglasses off and hands them to you. He shrugs when you thank him, slipping them on. 

Back at your apartment, Jeno’s so pleased to be unwrapping a Twister that he doesn’t complain about how long you guys took. Minjeong, however, is nowhere in sight. You knock on her door, though you know you don’t need to, and she comes to answer it, smiling when she sees you, grinning when she sees the Fab in your hands.

With the door closed, Minjeong takes a proper look at you, snorting in your face while she fumbles with the ice cream wrapper. “Nice shades.” 

You frown at this, watching as she takes a seat at the top of her bed, and go over to her wardrobe to see your reflection. Admittedly, Jaemin’s chunky aviators do not look as good on you as they do on him. In the mirror, Minjeong’s wearing a shit-eating grin that widens when you flip her off. 

“I mean it! They’re cute on you, in a sort of..” She trails off, running a hand through her hair while she thinks. “Girl who doesn’t care about wearing flattering accessories kind of way. It’s chic, I think—very cool girl of you.” 

“Right, MJ, thanks,” you mutter, pushing the glasses into your hair. 

You and Minjeong have been close since you were kids and have only gotten closer. So close that when it came time to fly the proverbial nest, you didn’t even discuss moving in together. Minjeong simply texted you the link to an apartment in the city and said: Open viewing at three of the units in this building on Friday. Are you free or should I look for us? 

When you sit at the end of her bed, Minjeong shuffles down the duvet to sit next to you—movements relaxed and unhurried. In the newfound quiet, the two of you eat your ice cream, comfortable enough with each other that the silence is reassuring rather than unsettling. It’s always been like this for you two, the ease of being in Minjeong’s company is twofold in silence.

The fresh orange flavour of the Calippo is distractingly refreshing, cooling you down immediately. It’s impossible to savour and before you realise it, you’re drinking the melted remains from the bottom, a little slice of summer handed to you in a cardboard tube.

With her popsicle stick between her teeth, Minjeong lays down on her stomach, absently turning her phone over and over in her hands. She’s thinking. About what, you’re not yet sure, but you won’t press—letting her ease into it at her own pace. Laughter and yelling bleeding through the closed door, her bedroom is like a refuge from the chaos in the living room, a space to recharge. You’re happy to be here with her, to talk about anything or nothing at all—just you and Minjeong, the way she likes it.

It takes a while, but she sets her phone down, looking at you with a small smile tugging the corners of her mouth. “You know,” she starts, voice light and already teasing. “I’ve been asking around about your little boyfriend.” 

You raise a brow. “My little boyfriend?” 

“Jay,” Minjeong states simply, giving you a look as if you should have known who she was referring to. 

The mere mention of his name makes your stomach flutter, a giggle coming out that you don’t bother trying to conceal from her. Still, you scoff. “That’s what you’ve been thinking about this whole time?” 

“Wait! Just listen, just listen,” she says through a laugh. “Apparently — according to Heeseung and his big drunken mouth — he’s been going on and on about this beautiful girl he was talking to at the bonfire.” 

You’d be lying if you said your curiosity wasn’t piqued over what else Jay might have said about you, but you’ve been here before — eager with your hopes higher than ever — and you know how it ends, so you don’t bother asking. The smile falls from your face. 

“Shut up,” you mumble, looking down at your hands in your lap. 

She doesn’t. “It’s like we have a J name curse or something.. Jimin, Jay, J—” she lists, though you hold up a hand to stop her from going on. 

“I get it.” 

Minjeong sighs happily, a smile on her face, pleased with herself for getting a reaction out of you. She’s the picture of satisfaction, giddily kicking her feet back and forth. A long moment of quiet settles between you, broken only by the sound of her socked toes gently thudding against the wall behind her. She rests her cheek on her arms, tucks her bangs behind her ear. Presses her eyes shut, chews on her lip, thinking, again. You wait for her, again—you will always wait for Minjeong. 

A while passes like this until she blinks her eyes open, voice soft, contemplative when she says, “I’m so nervous about spending the week at Jimin’s that I almost want to say I can’t go.” 

You frown but don’t speak, waiting for her to continue.

“I am excited, I’m mostly excited, but I just.. I want it to go well, so badly. I really want her parents to like me, you know?” She sighs, hiding her face in her hands. “Jimin said they’re really excited to see me again, and it’s sweet, obviously—it’s really sweet, but it’s making me feel sick and I have no idea why.” 

Minjeong leans into your touch when you stroke her hair, a sigh rumbling out of her, seeming more frustrated with herself than the situation. “I’m being stupid, right?” 

You shake your head. “It’s natural to want people to like you, no less your girlfriend’s parents, but as far as I see it, it seems like they already do. It was their idea for you to stay over, right? And it was her mum who dropped off that soup for you when you were sick, I’m pretty sure they love you, Minjeong.” 

Her brows furrow as if presented with this information for the first time. Head tilting. A slow blink. “You really think so?” she asks, voice soft, right on the edge of hope despite the tension clinging to her features. 

“Of course, I think so. Why wouldn’t they love you?” 

Minjeong thinks about this for a while, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. “I don’t know,” she mumbles, shrugging. 

“You’re going to be fine, I promise,” you tell her sincerely. “And on the off chance that you’re not fine, I can always fake an emergency so you can come back home.” 

At this, she looks relieved, cracking a small smile, one that grows as her eyes finally meet yours, the weight of her anxiety lifting—even if only a little bit. She sits up properly on the bed, wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her chin on them. Neither of you speaks, just sitting there in the calm of her bedroom, in the calm of each other’s presence. 

Eventually, Minjeong smiles to herself, shaking her head. “You don’t even need an emergency, just tell me you miss me and I’ll be back before you know it.” 

Since the bonfire, you’ve been hounding the group chat for a beach day. And finally, the day is here—whether it’s here because your friends have come around to the idea of recharging by the sea, or simply to appease you, the day is here, like a reward for surviving the days spent cooped up in your city apartment with everyone. Jeno, God bless him, texted in the morning to let you know he’s running errands with Aeri — which, somehow, only you seem to know is code for having sex — but would be at yours around 12 if that’s okay. 

And like clockwork, a text from Aeri comes in at 12 on the dot: otw to yours w jen, space in the cooler if u wanna bring more drinks !!! You grab your phone from the charger and a six-pack of Old Mout from the fridge before slipping on your flip-flops, buzzing with excitement until they arrive. 

Aeri’s sitting shotgun while you share the backseat with the cooler, holding onto its handle as you watch the trees blur by through the open window. Her phone is connected to the car, playing your friend group’s quarterly collaborative playlist on shuffle, stuck in a thick fog of Jaemin’s current 00s R&B fixations—he had his playlist privileges revoked last summer after adding every single song in Ariana Grande’s discography to boost streams and judging by the 151 songs he’s added since being allowed back two weeks ago, he’s more than happy to be back. Though you will never complain about getting to yell the lyrics to Promiscuous in the car with your friends, all the windows down on your way to the beach. The playlist is sprawling, and the two of you yell along to Mitski. Jeno is too busy craning his neck, searching for a parking spot to pay any mind to Mitski or her Washing Machine Heart.

As you near the sea, the trees give way to kiosks and clear skies. You can’t resist closing your eyes, letting the breeze and the scent of saltwater wrap around you like a hug. Despite Aeri’s protests, Jeno insists on looping the car park in hopes the perfect spot will open up. You, on the other hand, are just happy to observe how different the beach looks today—still busy, but in a different, more wholesome way. You rest your chin on the car window frame, watching colourful kites in the sky and kids running after each other, caked in sludgy sand from the shoreline. 

Jeno, God bless him, is too polite to barge into a spot, muttering swear words under his breath as he lets other drivers pull in, and drumming his fingers against the steering wheel with increasing speed. All it takes is one more loop for the perfect space to open up and Aeri seems more relieved than Jeno, huffing out an impatient, finally, as he pulls in—and it really is a perfect spot, so close you can feel the sand between your toes already. 

As soon as you all get out of the car, Aeri walks ahead to take a phone call, chatting animatedly as soon as it touches her ear—and Jeno doesn’t seem to mind that you’re not helping him with the cooler, he’s got it. 

“I keep meaning to ask you,” he starts, tilting his head as he speaks. “What the hell happened to you at the bonfire? I remember you and Jaemin seemed pretty comfortable again when we left, but then me and Hyuck got back, and poor Jaem could hardly remember how he got to the beach, never mind where you went.”

At this, a hodgepodge of vivid memories comes to you at once — kisses and late drives in July, sneaking off at parties to feel the wet heat of a summer evening hang over your shoulders, old feelings (good and bad) — threatening to bubble beneath the surface. A thick coolness settles in your chest, only spreading the more you try to will it away. 

You sigh, adjusting your tote bag on your shoulder. “That was ages ago, Jen. Leave it there.” 

He frowns, seeming to pick up on your discomfort and hesitates before speaking with an earnestness that catches you off-guard. “Look,” he says, lowering his voice. “I’m not going to judge you for hooking up on the beach—I won’t even pry for details, I just want to know who it was so Jaem and I can scare them a little.” His tone is oddly protective, brotherly. 

It’s sweet, really, what Jeno’s willing to do under the guise of protecting you, but you can’t help but scoff anyway, knowing it’s partly an excuse for him to show off his gym gains. “Jaemin isn’t exactly intimidating,” you point out. 

Whatever he says in response is as good as nothing to you, whose breath has caught in your throat at the sight of Jay. The iciness quickly subsides when you see him, melted by an overwhelming heat coursing through your body by the second. He’s in the middle of a heated volleyball match with some guys you know because Jeno knows them—Heeseung, Jake, and Sunghoon. It’s no surprise that they’re attractive, they’re college athletes—good looks might as well be part of the team contract. But Jay? Jay’s glowing. The sun beating down against his honeyed skin and making the sheen of sweat covering his body attractive. 

“Ahh,” Jeno hums in understanding, following your gaze. “One of Jaemin’s football buddies, huh? No wonder you’re so secretive.” 

“I didn’t hook up with anybody,” you assert, finding it impossible to look away. “He made it clear he’s not interested, not like that anyway.” 

“Sure, he’s not.”

You roll your eyes but don’t reply, reluctantly tearing your gaze from Jay, thankful to have reached the spot where Aeri’s taking her beach blanket out of her bag, and for the sudden lightness her presence brings. But even as you help lay out the blanket, the image of Jay persists, stuck like a song you can’t get out of your head. Jeno sets the cooler by your feet, its weight denting the sand as you watch the game. Curious — not at all swayed by Jay’s muscle definition or his back flexing as he runs around his half of the court — you push up your sunglasses, resting them in your hair to get a good look. Jeno and Aeri’s conversation about Minjeong potentially bringing Jimin only half hits your ears as you marvel at Jay, offering occasional nods to the best of your ability. Normally, the click of the cooler opening would grab your attention and hold it until you had a drink in your hand. Today though, you don’t even realise Jeno’s holding a can of cider out for you until he snaps his fingers in your face, sitting down next to Aeri and opening it for himself when you shake your head. 

“Hyuck’s going to be crushed,” he says, and you don’t need to see him to know he’s smiling at the thought, but when you do look, his smile is a grin, covering his whole face. 

“Why would Minjeong fake a girlfriend anyway?” you ask. 

Jeno shrugs. “I think he thinks she’s playing hard to get.” 

“Because lesbian Minjeong is playing hard to get with a man,” you say, rolling your eyes. A laugh slips from your lips as you think about how ridiculous that sounds, struggling to remember the origins of Donghyuck’s (made-up) crush on Minjeong.

Your comment makes Aeri snort as she looks through her bag. “Can we be sure Hyuck’s not playing hard to get rid of?” 

Jeno’s face scrunches up with laughter, and yours does the same. “Sounds like Hyuck,” he adds eventually.

As your laughter subsides, you glance back at the court. The boys are switching sides, granting you a view of Jay’s stomach that you won’t complain about, though he still hasn’t noticed you. Instead, he preps for his serve, throwing the ball before whacking it over the net. Sunghoon jumps to return it, and Jake sends it back. They work up a rally, teamwork and concentration on full display until Jay’s eyes flicker in your direction, doing a double-take when he realises it’s you. On the other side of the court, locked in, Heeseung dives into the sand to hit the ball, and it’s so impressive when he does that Aeri stops talking mid-sentence. The ball sails through the air, a perfect arc hurtling towards Jay, but his eyes stay fixed on you—and there’s that smile again, finally, you think. The impact is so sudden and jarring a collective gasp rises from everyone who sees and hears the ball strike Jay’s cheek with an audible thwack. He stumbles backwards, hand rising to cup the stinging spot, seeming more shocked than hurt by the collision. Heeseung runs over to him, yelling apologies through laughter as Jake and Sunghoon cackle into their hands, turning away from the scene. 

For a moment, you watch as Jay regains composure, and your concern forces you into action. Without a second thought, you reach into the cooler, pull out the first thing you touch and jog over to Heeseung and Jay. They look at you in sync, four eyes falling to your face and then the cold, damp can you’re holding. 

“Here,” you say quietly, perhaps a beat too late. 

Jay accepts the can with a grateful smile, sighing with relief when it touches his cheek. “Thanks,” he says, gaze meeting yours briefly before looking away, the tip of his ears flushing red. 

You shrug, paying no mind to the smile on Heeseung’s face as he looks between you and Jay, or the way the sun scorches your back through your shirt. The moment stretches over you, tension palpable though quickly broken when Heeseung clears his throat, and abruptly takes off in the direction he came from.

“Hey,” Jay says. 

He looks so different in the sun. Looks so good. Younger, gentler, because of the freckles you can now see dotting the centre of his face, the peeling skin on the bridge of his nose, his smile softer; a dimple appears that you hadn’t noticed the other night. 

“Hi,” you say belatedly, cheeks flushing as you realise he caught you admiring him. “I’d say good game, but..” You trail off, gesturing to the can of Kopparberg he’s holding to his cheek. 

Jay laughs softly, fondness in his eyes as he looks at you. “Got distracted,” he admits with a self-deprecating grin. “We were winning, if that matters.” 

A smile as you nod, you can’t help smiling. “It does, actually. But you shouldn’t let your guard down like that; might get hit by a volleyball or something.”

He gives you a grateful smile, moved by your stupid attempt at a joke. “Thanks,” he says. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Jake and Sunghoon reach you before you can reply—the former giving you a huge hug like you’re the best thing he’s seen all day, and the latter offering a small smile and stiff wave. “Are you okay?” Sunghoon asks Jay. “Like, back to playing, okay?” 

Jay’s eyes light up, seeming eager to return to the game. “Yeah, I think so,” he says, taking the can from his cheek. Seeing the swelling and angry red skin, the three of you scowl, mumbling expletives as Jay frowns at your reactions. “Shit, maybe not?” 

Beside you, Jake snorts, grabbing Jay’s wrist and pressing the can back to his face roughly, laughing with delight when Jay winces. The word, hey, slips from your lips before you can stop it. Pitying Jay, you nudge Jake in the ribs, mumbling at him to be gentle and casting a playful glare at him. Jake grins, unfazed, but you feel a little guilty until Jay looks at you, mouthing his thanks.

“Game over, I guess.” Jay frowns. “My fault.” 

“Jeno’s here,” you offer, pointing limply over your shoulder to where your friends are laughing as Yizhuo and Jaemin sit down with them. “He’d want in, probably.”

Jake beams, nodding eagerly and rushing away with Sunghoon close behind.

Alone again, Jay gets your attention by tapping your shoulder, the soft smile on his face making you grin when you see it. “Is it that bad?” he asks. 

You sigh, amused and sympathetic. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad.” 

“Guess I’ll sit out for now.” 

“Probably a good idea. You’ll be back in no time, though.” 

His eyes meet yours, soft gratitude shining through them. “Thanks, Doc.” 

The two of you join Aeri, Yizhuo, and Jaemin, who are sipping cocktail cans, and gossiping—if the scandalised look on Jaemin’s face is anything to go by. He’s the first to look up, smiling at you before his brows raise at the sight of Jay beside you. You glare down at him, willing him not to comment. The girls make room for you both on the blanket, and you sit down, enjoying the warmth of the sun. 

“What happened to you?” Jaemin asks Jay, a teasing smile on his lips as he pushes his sunglasses up into his hair. 

“Got distracted,” Jay admits, glancing at you with a grin. “But I’m in good hands.” 

Jaemin’s eyes flicker over to you, unable to conceal his amused scoff. “I’ll bet—Duckie’s had her fair share of distractions too.” 

There’s no time to process that as the conversation continues like you and Jay hadn’t interrupted. Laughing, teasing, light and easy. Jay fits in perfectly, and Jaemin keeps an eye on you.

Ahead of you, the volleyball game goes on like nothing happened, though Jake and his new partner, Jeno, are butting heads a bit. Literally. Both boys, competitive as anyone you know, diving for the ball at the same time, yelling out some variation of my ball and ignoring each other. It takes a while, but they seem to settle into a good groove—though admittedly, without Jay on the court, the game doesn’t interest you quite so much. 

As the afternoon wears on, the sun doesn’t tire, leading most of the group into the water. Donghyuck and Jeno are having a lengthy discussion about potential takeout options for lunch (though given the time, it’ll more likely be an early dinner) because, between all ten of you — Jay and his friends included — no one had the foresight to bring anything to eat. You and Jay are sitting together, knees touching as you quietly watch everyone in the water. The easy silence wraps you up so much you don’t even notice that Minjeong and Jimin have arrived until Jeno calls out asking if they brought food.

“Hey, Jen,” Minjeong says, giving him a side hug, not daring to unclasp her hand from Jimin’s. “Why would we bring food? We ate at that new burger place downtown, so good.” Still chatting with Jeno, Minjeong’s eyes scan the blanket before meeting yours and she grins at you, waving happily and mouthing hey. 

There’s no stopping the grin that spreads over your lips, stretching from ear to ear at the sight of her as a rush of warmth passes through you. It’s rare for you and Minjeong to go long without seeing each other. You even make plans during the week you spend at home over the holidays. Meeting up at the Christmas markets for clumsy laps around the ice rink, and sweet sips of Baileys hot chocolate, or sharing Boxing Day dinners with her family. Four days apart feels like a year, and seeing her now is a breath of fresh air.

“Jeno!” Jimin exclaims, hugging him with the same enthusiasm — just as committed to hand-holding as her girlfriend — though her smile falters when she spots Donghyuck. “Renjun,” she says in greeting, voice dripping with disinterest. 

Donghyuck looks up at her, rolling his eyes. “Dong. Hyuck,” he corrects again, stressing the syllables. 

For a moment, Jimin seems to consider this before shrugging. “Don’t. Care.” 

With Donghyuck sufficiently irritated, the two girls leave him alone, all bright smiles and waggling eyebrows as they sit down next to you. They greet Jay, giving you a teasing look you hope he doesn’t catch—not that there’s much time for him to think about it anyway, as Jeno comes over, clapping his shoulders with both hands and making him flinch. 

“Alright,” he says, laughing. “Let’s go get food.” 

You frown, looking up at him. “What do you need Jay for?” 

With a chuckle, Jay bumps your shoulder with his. “Yeah, Jeno. What do you need me for?” he asks. 

Straightening up, Jeno rests his hands on his hips, an excited smile curving over his lips. “I’ve never had a bad meal out with this guy, dude knows his shit.”

Jay’s smile is soft, humble, as he gets up and drapes an arm around Jeno’s shoulders. “Can’t argue with that,” he admits, turning to you, gaze lingering. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You nod, not bothering to hide your smile, warmth spreading throughout your chest. As the boys disappear in search of sustenance — Donghyuck complaining in the background — Jimin spots Aeri and Yizhuo in the water and pulls off her coverup before running away to join them, leaving you and Minjeong in the dust for some much-needed alone time. 

“So?” you ask, just as she blurts out, “I’m having so much fun!”

You both laugh, and Minjeong groans, hiding her face behind her hands. “I feel so stupid! I was so nervous for no reason.” She shakes her head, as if scolding herself. 

“Told you,” you say in a sing-song tone, nudging her with your shoulder. 

“I’ll tell you everything when I get back on Sunday.” She gives you a look, curiosity glimmering behind her eyes. “Did Jay get that bruise in a fight to defend your honour?” 

You blink at her. “What?” 

“Sorry.” Minjeong laughs to herself, waving her hand dismissively. “Jimin’s parents have been showing me a ton of old movies. I just saw Dirty Dancing last night, and now I’m thinking I want that for you.” 

The thought of Jay in a fight makes you laugh, you can hardly imagine him killing a spider. You shake your head. “He took a volleyball to the face.”

“Did he do it in your honour?” 

“I mean.. I guess.” You take a moment to consider it, turning the idea over in your head. “He was looking at me instead of the ball, so, yeah, sure.” 

Minjeong sits up straight, pointing an accusatory finger at you as a grin stretches over her lips. “Do you know you just giggled right now?” 

Taken aback, you eye her wearily, squinting. “Did not!” you say, more defensive than you mean to be when honestly you might have giggled—you can’t remember.

“Did too!” She gives you a once over, awe coating her features. “Look at you! I don’t know how I didn’t see it before, but you’re glowing.” 

You scoff. “It’s thirty-two degrees out, Minjeong, everyone is glowing.” 

She laughs, repeating your words in a tone so whiny you can’t help but laugh with her. She settles down before you do though, her expression softens, a sincere look in her eyes as she rests her palm on your knee, shaking your leg. “Seriously, YN. I’m excited for you!” she says—she means every word. 

Her sincerity, the sheer delight in her voice takes you by surprise. You bring your knees to your chest, hugging yourself. “There’s nothing to be excited about, MJ, don’t get carried away.” 

“I know it’s still early days, but don’t close yourself off—let what happens happen.” You don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, and she continues. “You deserve this, and I really want you to let yourself have it.” Minjeong’s eyes bore deeply into yours, earnest, searching, for a long quiet beat. “The world isn’t going to end if you choose yourself for once,” she says softly. 

Again, her sincerity leaves you speechless, words echoing in your head as you sit with them, taking them in. It’s been a long while since the last time you let yourself have it. So long since the last time you even wanted to. You don’t know why Jay makes it so easy to want. Too easy.

“Maybe I will,” you say eventually, shrugging. A big part of you hopes you mean that.  

Your answer pleases Minjeong, if the bright grin on her face is anything to go by. She nods, alight with hope as she leans back on her palms, tilting her head back to face the sun; it looks like she’s glowing too. The sounds of the beach seem louder now—your friends, the crashing waves, laughter and chatter all amplified. You steal a glance over your shoulder towards where the boys went off, mind wandering to Jay and what he might be thinking about right now—if he’s thinking about you too. There’s something about his presence, about him — the thought of him, even — that makes everything just a little bit lighter, a steadiness you never knew you could feel with someone you only just met. Overhead, the sun stretches its rays across everything it can reach, soaking the beach in a warm, golden hue. Side by side, you watch as your friends chase each other along the shore, tripping over waves and their own feet, cackling and swearing into the sky. There is peace here for you, with them, and maybe, if you take Minjeong’s words to heart, there can be peace here for you, with Jay too.

And then, after a while, in the distance, you hear the familiar sound of the boys’ laughter ringing out over the beach, breaking your stupor. You turn, and there they are—there he is, making his way back with carrier bags in his hands and a bright grin on his face.

Jay takes a container from the bag and sits next to you, opening it up. “For you,” he says, grinning.

“Seriously?” you ask, raising a brow. “You were talking crazy game about ‘knowing your shit’ and it’s fish and chips? Jay, come on.” 

He frowns at this, his eyebrows knitting together. “Fish and chips are like a beach staple,” he points out, pouting. “What did you think we’d bring back? Kalguksu?” Jay cuts a piece of fish with plastic cutlery, and spears it with the fork, holding it out to you. “Can you at least try it before you judge me?”

With a roll of your eyes and a smile on your lips, you take it from him, blowing on it a little before trying the fish and eating your words with it. Unfortunately, it’s really good. Jay smiles as he watches you chew, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “So?” he prompts, leaning closer. “It’s good, right?” 

You nod, the warmth of the food settling in your stomach. “I hate to admit it,” you start, savouring the way his expression shifts, like he’s bracing for impact. “But this is really nice.”

“I knew you’d come around.” He beams, triumphant, and you can’t help but laugh at his pure, unfiltered joy. “A good meal goes a long way.”

Even in adulthood, playing at the beach all day is a surefire way to work up an appetite. Out from the ocean, your friends come running, lazily towelling off and gathering around the food, awestruck, like it’s a gift from God. With your knees tucked to your chest, you watch them all with a smile, happy to be here, happy they’re happy, and Jay gets to work cutting his comically large fish. Despite the bickering, everyone smiles as they inspect the containers, sharing them amongst themselves, and right when you reach for one of them, Jay slides his in front of you—fish cut into neat, little bite-sized chunks. 

“It’s still kind of hot, so I’d let it sit for a bit,” he tells you quietly. 

You look up at him, finding his eyes and finding your heart rate climbing from you what see in them—earnest affection staring right back at you. His lips tip up at the corners, upending your stomach and all of the butterflies in it. 

“Okay?” you say, voice lifting on the last syllable. “Let it sit for a bit, then.” 

He laughs quietly, more to himself than anything, shaking his head. “I cut it for you,” he says, gesturing at the food like you haven’t seen it yet. 

Your gaze drifts down to it, warmth unfurling in your chest, spreading slowly—a ripple moving outward. At a loss for words, you only manage to utter his name, lips pushing into a pout as you look at him. He doesn’t say anything, just lets his eyes meet yours with that easy, unbothered smile of his like it’s no big deal, like it was the most natural thing in the world to do, like he hasn’t completely undone you with such a simple action. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

It doesn’t seem like he thought much about it, considering you before considering himself. You can’t quite believe it. This stranger, practically—but that’s the thing though, isn’t it? He doesn’t feel like a stranger at all. It’s like you’ve always known him, like he’s always existed on the edge of your life, just outside the frame, waiting to step into focus. 

His stare is unwavering as he shrugs. “I know.” 

Suddenly nervous, you tuck your hair behind your ear, nudging the container towards him. “Well, at least share it with me.”

He asks if you’re sure, his brow raising slightly, as if amused, when you nod. He hesitates, eyes on the fish for a moment as he makes his decision. Then, with a small smile, he nods too. “After you.” And so, under the teasing gazes of Minjeong and Jeno, you and Jay share a portion of fish and chips—neither of you saying anything when your hands brush against each other.

Around you, your friends fall into sharp concentration, their undivided attention on their food, praising Jay’s chippy selection between bites and swallows—he sits up straighter and gives you a look each time they do, waggling his brows or wearing a toothy grin as though he’d cooked the food himself. 

Tipsy and full, everyone lays around for a while as you nurse a cider. Jay, still by your side, is telling you about a cartoon he used to watch as a kid but can’t remember the name of. Every time his eyes meet yours, the butterflies in your stomach — giddy and drunk — pick up speed, while a burning flash attacks your cheeks and neck. 

If it weren’t for the way he’s blocking the sun in front of you, you wouldn’t even have noticed Sunghoon was there until he spoke. “Can we borrow him for a sec?” he asks, looking down at you with a smile as you spot Jake standing beside him. 

You nod. “Sure, go ahead.” 

Jay doesn’t even have a chance to say anything before Sunghoon takes hold of his legs and Jake grabs him by the arms, the two boys running off towards the shore, cackling louder than Jay can yell. Jaemin and Heeseung get up to join them, making it to the water right as Jake and Sunghoon throw Jay in, and Jaemin’s so pleased he jumps around cheering with his arms up above his head.

Jeno comes over to sit with you, slinging an arm — and what you think must be all of his weight — over your shoulders, saltwater dripping from him down your back. “Jay, huh?” he asks—smile wide, eyes tired.

You only shrug in response, the weight of his arm pressing down as damp sea air clings to your skin. 

There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes as he laughs to himself. “You know what’s funny?” 

A sigh slips out of you. You’ve known Jeno long enough to know that most of the things he finds funny aren't usually very funny at all. “What?” you ask, watching Jay, who’s chasing Jake around the shoreline with a water gun that seems to have appeared from thin air.

“It’s not much,” he says. “It’s just.. I would’ve thought Heeseung was more your type.” 

He has your full attention now, eyes on him and the smirk he’s wearing. “What? Jay’s not good enough for me either?” you ask, scared to hear his answer. 

“No!” Jeno shakes his head vigorously as if offended by the mere suggestion. “Not at all. If anything I’m relieved it’s Jay, he’s sweet, good head on his shoulders. If I didn’t know you so well, I might say Jay’s out of your league.”

You’re not sure what to make of that, brows knitting together as your lips curl downwards. “I can’t tell if you’re insulting me.” 

“I’m saying I think Jay’s a good match for you, that’s all.”

At this, you hum, playing nonchalant so Jeno doesn’t see how much you value his opinion. You only let yourself smile when you look over at Jay again—who is currently being dragged at the foot through the ocean by Jake, thrashing around and yelling in protest. 

“Want me to put in a good word?” Jeno offers. “I could warn him about your Jellycat problem.” 

You roll your eyes, nudging him. “Liking plushies is not a problem, Jen. You are a problem,” you say, throwing sand at his face, laughing when he sputters. 

Jeno shakes his head, getting water and sand all over you. “Hope you’re happy, Duckie,” he says after a beat, standing up and ruffling your hair. “Jay’s going to pay for that.”

Before you can ask what he’s talking about, he takes off sprinting towards the water, towards Jay—poor, unsuspecting Jay. Jeno barrels into him, and both boys disappear into the water with a huge splash, surfacing in seconds, though only Jeno comes up with a grin on his face. Jay’s spluttering, somehow still attractive as he pushes his hair back. Jake roars with laughter, clapping Jeno on the back, seeming pleased to have an ally and Jaemin runs over to join in, whooping and hollering like it’s the best thing he’s seen all day. 

You feel bad about it, you do, honestly, as you see Jay running around the shore for dear life, three guys ganging up on him for different reasons—though you can’t help thinking it’s better him than you. 

“Time!” Jay yells, forming a T with his arms. “Time! Time, please!” Despite his best efforts, his pleas are ignored and the other guys keep pushing him around. 

Finally, waterlogged and exhausted, Jay gives up. At the first opportunity, he runs from the water without looking back, only stopping to throw himself down on the blanket beside you. “Man,” he says, fighting for breath. “What did I do?”

“Well,” you start. “I might have had something to do with Jeno tackling you,” you admit through a laugh. 

Immediately, Jay looks betrayed, shaking his head. “Wow, and here I thought we had something going,” he mutters dramatically. 

You hold up your hands defensively, eyes wide as you nod, and Jay’s façade crumbles immediately, wearing a smile of his own at the sight of you. “We do! We do! You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” you explain, trying your best to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. 

Jay grins at you, nodding his head. “I guess it all worked out in the end—I’m exactly where I want to be right now.” 

It’s been two years since Donghyuck got you all barred from Hong Seunghan’s place after vomiting up cherry-flavoured Sourz all over his parents' plush white carpet—which means it’s been two years since you got relegated to the public pool like the rest of your city. Overpriced refreshments, no control over the music, and having to sneak alcohol. Not this summer, though. Oh no, because through Minjeong’s relationship with Jimin, you’ve finally made another friend with a pool. 

Over Jimin’s back garden, the sun beams brightly at you all from the cloudless sky, and save for under the parasol at the garden table, there isn’t a spot of shade in sight. The grass is hot and rough, somehow still lush despite the heat pulling sweat to every inch of your skin’s surface—if anyone’s bothered by it, you’re all having too much fun to notice. 

Typically, you spend pool days twirling the strings of your bikini bottoms around your finger, watching anxiously as your friends bob drunkenly around the pool, and worrying about their safety because no one else seemed to be. Atypically, you’re buzzed off two cans of cider and three shots of Pineapple AU that you slurped out of Donghyuck’s belly button. It is worth noting that most of your better ideas do not start with Pineapple AU — or Donghyuck — which is probably why you’re sitting on Donghyuck’s shoulders with your core fully engaged, trying to shove Aeri from Jeno’s shoulders and into the pool. As you lock eyes with her, you realise that this might not end well—but you tell yourself that’s half the fun. 

Unfortunately, your gym sessions with Aeri are only paying off for one of you—and it’s not the one who walks for an hour on the treadmill while switching through social media apps. So, much to Donghyuck’s dismay, you’ve been launched back into the pool more times than you can count, and Aeri’s hair is starting to dry from her seat on Jeno’s shoulders. 

Each defeat takes more out of you than the last, and as you splash back into the water once more, you start to wonder if it might be time for a break. As soon as you call time, Aeri and Jeno start gloating and the sight is enough to make you regret your decision. 

“This isn’t over!” you call out, and Donghyuck stands behind you, echoing your words like a child. 

When you get out of the water, the air is cooler on your skin than you expect it to be — though you appreciate it in this heat — a shiver running down your spine as you wring water from your hair, droplets splashing against the sun-baked concrete at your feet. You take a towel from a sun lounger to dry off, draping it over your shoulders, muscles pleasantly sore from the game. 

Behind you, Minjeong calls out your name. “Oh, YN!” Her tone is sing-songy in a way that makes you fear the teasing you’re about to endure, so you hesitate before turning. But when you do, you find yourself almost colliding with—Jay. He’s just arrived, you assume, with some of his friends in tow, and the sight of him makes you freeze in place, caught off-guard. You had no idea he’d be here. 

Time stands still as your eyes shamelessly trail over every inch of his exposed torso—all tact lost to alcohol and the summer heat. His skin catches the light in a way that makes him, and everything around him, seem a bit too bright. You haven’t seen him since the beach last week, and your daydreams haven’t done much for his abs, which are somehow more defined in person. It’s like a cheat code, how good he looks—too perfect to be standing there like it’s nothing. 

He catches you, of course — gawking at him like a deer in headlights — and smiles. “Hey,” he says casually, like he hasn’t just thrown your brain into total disarray. There’s something in his eyes though—a glimmer that says he knows exactly what effect he has on you. “Didn’t think I’d run into you here.” 

It takes you a beat longer than it should to process his words. “I didn’t know you were coming,” you manage, hoping you sound more composed than you feel, pulse skittering in your chest. 

Before you can say anything else, Jaemin appears, draping an arm over Jay’s shoulder. “You made it!” he says, grinning widely, mischief evident in his eyes and smile—the way it often is. “Thought it might be fun to have everyone together again, you know? What do you think, Duckie?” 

You blink again, trying to clear the fog in your mind. It is immediately clear to you that Jaemin, a walking, talking good intention, is responsible—being that he outright said it. But you can’t wrap your head around why. For now though, with Jay looking at you the way he is, all soft eyes and sweet smile, you choose to cast your suspicion aside and enjoy his presence. 

“Yeah,” you say, finally finding your voice. “The more the merrier.” 

Jay’s smile widens like he’s in on something you’re not. “Glad you think so.”

Rather than using his big boy words, Jaemin exits the conversation with a backflip into the pool, drawing the attention of all the guys who cheer and applaud like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen someone do it. If this was a normal hangout with your friends, you would have rolled your eyes and turned your attention elsewhere, but Jay is here, cheering and applauding like everyone else. And it’s so endearing when he does it that you can’t help but smile. However, right when Jaemin hits the surface, a wave of water comes rushing in your direction, and Jay steps in front of you, shielding you from the worst of it, his back taking the brunt of the spray. You blink at him, a little surprised as droplets hit your feet. 

Yet again, he catches you staring, grinning brightly as he says, “Hey.” Again.

You raise a brow. “So, is it a requirement that you always show up when I’m not expecting you to?”

“More fun that way, don’t you think?” he quips, his smile widening. He leans in slightly, his voice dipping into a teasing tone. “Keeps you on your toes, huh, Duckie?” 

Coming from his mouth, the nickname is almost cute, though you can’t help cringing anyway. You sigh, bringing your hands up to cover your face, groaning softly. “Don’t let Jaem — or anyone else — fool you, Duckie is not a nickname I like.” 

Jay’s smile falters, curiosity flickering over his face. His right eyebrow quirks up, but he doesn’t ask—even though you know he’s wondering why. The memory stirs in your chest, still embarrassing, but you can laugh about it now. So you do, letting a breathy chuckle slip out as you think about it. “Let’s just say you’re not the only one who’s taken a volleyball to the face,” you tell him. 

He blinks a few times before his teasing smile comes back in full effect—dreamy as ever. “So that’s where it comes from?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, I’ll lay off on the Duckie thing, then,” he says, his voice softening. “But if you let me off the hook for the nickname, maybe you’ll let me off the hook for something else, too.” 

Anticipation turns your stomach as you tilt your head, raising a brow in mock suspicion. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” 

Jay leans in a little closer. “How about..” He trails off, hesitating for a split second as if trying to feel out the moment, then gives you a sheepish smile. “How about we hang out on purpose sometime? You know, so we’re not always surprising each other.”

His words catch you off guard, pulling your lips into a grin, a breathy laugh coming out of you that brings your shoulders down a little, his suggestion sitting on the edge of the warm breeze. There’s a jelly-like feeling in your knees, leaving you off-centre. “Yeah,” you say. “I think that could be arranged.” 

Visibly relaxing, Jay nods, an exhale coming from his nose as he smiles, showing off his dimples. “Cool.” He nods again, once, firmly—seeming not to notice Sunghoon’s sudden closeness over his shoulder as he goes on. “Cool, so maybe I coul—” He’s cut off by Sunghoon leaning in and yelling, “Boo!” straight into his ear. 

Jay flinches, his hand flying up to his ear like he’s been stung, eyes wide for a second before narrowing in irritation. Sunghoon cackles, already taking off in a sprint across the grass, and Jay groans, rubbing his temple before chasing after his friend. “I’m sorry!” he yells to you over his shoulder. 

A laugh comes out of you as you watch them. And you’re still laughing when Aeri comes up behind you, her arms snaking around your waist as her chin digs lightly into your shoulder. “Chicken round two?” she asks quietly like it’s a secret.

You nod, but the moment you start moving, Donghyuck cuts you off, shaking his head—a firm no. “I’m busy,” he says without looking up from his phone. Craning your neck, you get a look at his screen where he’s saving the world apparently, one level of Candy Crush at a time. 

“Serious business, I see,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else. 

Aeri lets out a soft laugh, her grip on you easing up as she peels herself away, already halfway out of the conversation. Jeno snagged her attention, calling her name from the pool and the splash you hear behind you tells you everything you need to know. You’re left there, standing with your hands on your hips like Superman, as you glance around the pool, weighing your options. With Jeno and Aeri already paired up, he’s out; Jaemin being, quite conveniently, nowhere to be found; and Donghyuck rejecting you before you can even get the question out, you quickly realise you’re fresh out of options. 

Almost. 

Your gaze lands on Jay, who’s sitting on the grass, leaning back on his palms, laughter crinkling the corners of his eyes as he talks to Sunghoon. You hesitate, the thought of being so close to Jay with his hands on your thighs giving you pause. You’re not sure you’ll be able to act normal in that position. Sighing, you look back towards the house and spot Heeseung and Jake sitting at the table with Minjeong and Jimin, and relief washes over you. Minjeong is comfortably settled in Jimin’s lap, her eyes fluttering open the second you approach as if she can sense your presence. She smiles when you squeeze her shoulder. 

“Either of you girls up for a round of chicken?” you ask, already knowing they’ll say no too. 

Minjeong’s smile is apologetic, and Jimin’s is teasing as they both shake their heads, looking up at you from their seat. You turn your attention to the boys across the table, and there’s a smile on Jake’s face that tells you he’s dying for you to ask him. So you do, or at least you try to—he shoots up out of his seat before you even finish saying his name, nodding fervently until Heeseung elbows him and he keels over, wincing. 

“On second thought,” he manages, sitting back down. “I’m not in the mood to play chicken,” he says through gritted teeth, glaring at his friend, though Heeseung looks up at you with a smile, the picture of innocence. 

“Sorry, YN. I’m not in the mood either,” Heeseung says, sounding sincere. “But I’m sure Jay would be happy to play if you asked.” 

The girls giggle amongst themselves at this obvious attempt to put you and Jay together in one manner or another, and you can’t help laughing too. 

Jake’s nodding enthusiastically now, seeming to realise what’s going on, just a beat too late. “Jay loves chicken,” he says reverently. “He’s like the chicken fight master.” 

You grin despite yourself. “Is that so?”

Looking back over your shoulder, you set your sights on Jay, who’s now lying down — abandoned by Sunghoon who’s sitting with Donghyuck and Yizhuo — oblivious to the plot forming around him. You take a deep breath and approach him, one step at a time, until you’re standing over him. Jay’s eyes snap open when you say hi, smiling at you as he stands up. 

“You’ll never guess what Jake let slip about you.”

The colour drains from his face, and you watch as his smile wavers. “He’s exaggerating,” he blurts out. 

“Oh?” You tilt your head, feigning disappointment. “That’s too bad. I heard you’re the chicken fight master.” 

For a moment, he watches you before running a hand through his hair, serious all of a sudden. “They actually call it a Jay fight where I’m from,” he tells you, shrugging, though his casual demeanour slips when you laugh, and he grins. “I’m retired now though. Wanted to go to university, do normal 21-year-old shit, you know? Change of pace.” 

You roll your eyes, resting your hands on your hips. “Are you going to play with me or not, Jay?” 

Deciding not to wait for his answer, you turn on your heels and walk away — perhaps with more of a sway in your hips than normal — and hoping he’ll follow. After a beat he does, footsteps padding along the grass as he jogs after you. When you look over your shoulder, his eyes are on your ass, and his ears burn red when he realises you’ve caught him staring. 

A wicked grin spreads over your face as you get into the pool and Jay follows suit, much to Jeno’s great satisfaction as he calls out from the other side, “Took you long enough!” The smile on his face doesn’t quite manage the impatience in his voice. 

Jay pinches his nostrils before ducking under the water, his free hand tapping your thigh—a silent signal for you to get on. Your heart was already racing just thinking about his hands on your legs, but now, as you get settled on his shoulders, his head between your thighs as he wraps his arms around them, your heart, you think, is on its last beat. As soon as he stands up straight, you notice how much more stable he is than Donghyuck, and realise that his grip on your thighs might send you into a frenzy. 

He tips his head back, looking up at you with concern written all over his face. “All good?” he asks, squeezing your thighs in a way you think is meant to be reassuring, but only serves to send you into a panic.

“All good,” you repeat, breathless. 

He smiles, squeezing your thighs again and the game starts before you can think about it too hard.

Being on Jay’s shoulders, feeling his strength beneath you, gives you a renewed sense of determination. Alight with competitive energy you didn’t know you could bring out for a swimming pool game, you find yourself finally pushing Aeri over. Not once. Not twice. But three consecutive times. Each time, the victory is sweeter and sweeter—Jay’s smile forcing a swell of pride to heat your chest, forcing frenzied butterflies to flutter. 

With each of Aeri’s defeats, she takes longer and longer to come up from the water, though she seems delighted now that you’re actually trying, a huge grin on her face every time Jeno hoists her up into the air, wobbling a little from sweet cocktails and all the extra height she’s gained on his shoulders. And for a fourth time, she falls back into the pool, cackling to herself on the way down as you and Jay high-five. 

Leave it to Jaemin to spoil everyone’s fun though, as he comes out of the house with a bottle of water in hand, and his eyes popping out of their sockets at the sight of you on Jay’s shoulders. “Looking pretty calm out there for a guy who can’t swim, huh, Jay?” 

You freeze, and Jay does too, losing your balance as Jaemin’s words sink in. “Wait, what?” you ask after a beat, glancing down at him. “You can’t swim?” 

Jay looks up, a sheepish yet amused smile on his face. “Not really, no.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Your eyes widen in disbelief. “Why would you get in the pool? Why would you agree to this?” 

He hesitates for a moment before squeezing your thigh, lips curving into a small smile. “Because you asked me to.” 

The simplicity of his answer, his honesty and his firm grip on your thighs heat your body from the inside out. You stare down at him, all thoughts of the game and everything else lost to the fondness in his eyes. It’s hard to focus on anything other than Jay and the way your heart races in your chest. For fear of saying something stupid, you decide to do something stupid instead. Your breath catches for a moment, eyes on his, hanging in the balance. Without a second thought, you screw your eyes shut and throw yourself back into the water, the splash jolting you back to reality.

“Because you asked me to,” he’d said, and what kind of response is that? Overwhelmed and waterlogged, you can’t find the words to say back. Can’t process anything but the hiss of water in your ears, the laughter of your friends. Too soon, you resurface, pushing your hair out of your face just in time to see him grinning at you, clearly amused by your display. 

You have no idea how Jay manages to say the things he says so easily, or why it always moves you so much—but you are certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that this boy and that pretty mouth of his are going to be a big problem for you this summer.

Since she’s always the quickest to get ready, Minjeong is always the last to get into the shower, and you can hear her playlist through the walls. In her room, you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone while Jimin sits cross-legged in front of the full-length mirror, digging through her makeup bag.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she starts, glancing at your reflection with a bit of hesitation. “But Minjeong told me about your little crush on Jay.” 

Her words make you pause mid-scroll, the corners of your lips twitching up in amusement. “I figured she might’ve told you,” you say, setting your phone down. “Though I’m not sure there’s much to do about it. He’s cute, sure, but..”

Jimin twists around to face you, careful not to topple her drink. “Minjeong also told me about your whole.. self-sabotage thing,” she adds cautiously. 

A resigned laugh slips out of you. “Yeah, that sounds like Minjeong.” 

Along with her softening facial expression, her tone becomes gentler too. “No one’s saying you have to, like, marry the guy, but if you like him — or even if you just think he’s cute — maybe it’s worth giving it a shot. Wouldn’t you rather look back and know you tried, instead of wondering what might’ve been?” 

Try as you might, you can’t keep your smile from faltering. Even though your group and friendship with Jaemin survived, it took a long time for that to seem like a viable option, for you to hear his name without an ache in your chest—all because you wanted to give it a shot. You do your best to remind yourself that Jimin’s only being supportive, that things don’t have to end badly this time, but you can’t shake the bitter taste in your mouth at the thought—like your body’s way of warning you about making the same mistake twice.

“I’ll think about it,” you say after a beat, voice too formal, too stiff. 

Jimin doesn’t let up though, only grinning at you and nodding her head like you’ve made a promise. “If you’re worried about him being a dick or something, don’t be. Jay’s too nice for his own good.” 

“So I keep hearing.” 

She gives you a look, assessing you for a second before laughing. “Only because it’s true.” And with that, she turns back to the mirror as the shower cuts off. 

Over the next hour, the three of you finish getting ready, right on time for Jeno to pick you all up for pres at Aeri’s. Nobody mentions Jay until you get there. When you get out of the car, Jeno gives you a once over, smiling to himself as the waning 10 p.m. sun shows off the mischief in his eyes. 

“Is Jay coming tonight?” he asks. 

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking about it,” you lie, thankful that Jimin and Minjeong are too busy with each other to expose you—or leave the car. 

Jeno, on the other hand, is not so easily fooled and he raises a sceptical eyebrow but keeps his mouth shut. 

“Okay, fine,” you admit, sighing. “I was thinking he might be, but I’m not sure.” 

The girls choose this moment to leave the car, and you wait for traffic to pass by before crossing the road to Aeri’s building. A satisfied laugh curls up Jeno’s entire face, his shoulders shaking as he holds the door open. “Well, whether he shows up or not, at least you look nice,” he says in a tone that leaves you wondering where the teasing ends and the compliment begins. 

In her living room, Aeri’s putting glasses on the table as music spills out from her JBL speaker, bass thrumming through the wall. She’s standing in front of the globe floor lamp she bought on Facebook Marketplace last week, silhouetted in soft yellow, glowing at the edges in the dark room, and so stunning in her cute black dress. Jeno thinks so too, gasping beside you when he sees her. He wastes no time giving her a hug, whispering in her ear, making her giggle—bright and carefree, beaming up at him. The smile doesn’t leave her face as she waves at you and the other girls. You hug her and follow her to the fridge, helping carry over the drinks — a six-pack of cider, three bottles of soju, and a bottle of lemonade — and the five of you settle around the table, Jimin on Minjeong’s lap so there’s room for everyone. 

Aeri’s place might just be your favourite, cosy and just big enough for a handful of you to hang out, always quieter and more intimate than the chaos of a day spent at your apartment or Yizhuo’s. Everyone else is meeting at Mark’s house for the party, while you, Minjeong and Jimin opted to ride with Jeno, which led to Aeri offering to host the four of you for pre-drinks. 

Beaming, she pulls up a Power Hour video on her laptop, turning the screen so everyone can see the timer. A rush of dread washes over you as you eye your glass, kindly filled up by Jeno with a 1:1 ratio of cider and soju that tastes startlingly juice-like. In the seat across from you — self-appointed designated driver — Jeno’s taking huge gulps of water as each minute passes quicker than the last, conversation becoming funnier and funnier, grimaces fading into smiles. You’re about fifteen minutes in when Jeno’s phone lights up with Donghyuck’s name on it and he answers with a smile, putting him on speaker. Muffled music comes through the phone as Donghyuck complains, as always, about how late you all are and how stupid he looks standing by himself. 

“It’s okay, Hyuckie!” Jimin starts, pausing only to hiccup. “You’re still going to look stupid when we’re all together.” Her words are running into each other already, her plan of alternating shots of soju and lemonade not quite working out the way she’d expected. 

“Thanks, bud. That means a lot,” Donghyuck deadpans, and you can hear his eye roll through the phone. 

Minjeong covers Jimin’s mouth with her hand and Jeno gives her a grateful smile, taking the phone off speaker and bringing it to his ear. “We’ll leave in five, send me the address,” he says before hanging up. With a bright smile, he tucks his phone away before downing the last of his water, unprompted by the video. “Drink up, and let’s go.” 

With the timer zeroing in on eighteen minutes, you don’t take your eyes off the screen and finish off your drink when the video tells you to. The warmth of soju and cider settles in your stomach as you stand up, limbs suddenly lighter. Jimin giggles beside you, leaning into Minjeong, who gives her a soft smile, her own laughter bubbling up in response. 

As you gather your things and head for the door, Aeri slips her arm through yours, her head leaning on your shoulder. “You look so pretty, I love this dress on you,” she tells you quietly, pinching your waist. “Drink as much as you want tonight, I’ll take care of you.” She holds out her pinky finger towards you, wagging it as she waits for you to lock your finger with hers. 

You smile, locking your pinky with hers to seal the promise and keeping them locked until you reach the car. The warmth of her words sticks with you as you buckle your seatbelt, and without even realising it, you’re smoothing out your dress and checking your makeup in your phone camera. Jay and curiosity about his attendance tonight creep into your thoughts, wrapping around your mind like a vine. 

Jimin and Minjeong instruct Aeri to turn the volume up to full blast, belting out California Gurls like their lives depend on it, but even the bass, frying the speakers and rattling against your calf can’t distract you—your curiosity won’t loosen up. It follows you down the street, through Mark’s front door and straight into the thick, pulsing thrum of the party. Even the start of your favourite party song thudding through the house, vibrating in your chest like a heartbeat, isn’t enough to shake the hold Jay has on your mind.

It’s not until Jaehyun hugs you, handing you a drink you recognise to be his signature vodka lemonade right when you smell it — though lemonade-tinged vodka would be a better name for your new drink — that you’re finally tugged back down to earth, back into the moment. This moment, in Mark Lee’s parents’ hallway with guests flooding in by the second, weed, cologne and a plug-in air freshener mingling under your nose in a way you won’t say you dislike.

Jaemin hugs you next, and it’s only when he says he thought you came with Minjeong that you realise she and Jimin have disappeared from your side—he laughs when you tell him you did. With a raised brow, he ducks down to sniff the cup Jaehyun gave you and immediately recoils, shaking his head before replacing the cup with his own. 

He leans down, mouth against your ear, whispered words tickling your skin. “Pace yourself, Duckie,” he says protectively, though barely a second later, you hear a grin spread over his lips. “Got a feeling you might want to remember tonight.” Straightening up, Jaemin winks at you, nodding towards the kitchen.

Knowing Jaemin, any number of things could be waiting for you over the threshold, and as much as you’re hoping it’s Jay, you’re a little more excited to see him than what you think is appropriate. Grin still sitting on his lips, Jaemin slings an arm over Jaehyun’s shoulders and the two take off towards the front door. With a deep breath, you lift his cup to your lips, hoping the alcohol will help you loosen up a bit, and maybe if it wasn’t a cup of water, it might have.

Seeming to sense your thoughts, Aeri distracts you by throwing herself around to the music and you can’t help but join in, Jeno following suit as he laughs at your dancing. You’re not sure who’s responsible for the playlist, but you won’t pretend like you’re not having the time of your life jumping around to Black Eyed Peas and Nirvana. 

Mid-headbang, Jeno nudges you hard enough to jostle your cup, cool water spilling over your fingers and slipping down your wrist. You blink, eyes locked on his finger instead of what it’s pointing at. “There’s your boy,” he says in your ear, voice low and teasing.

Your heart kicks up a notch as you turn—and there he is. Your boy. 

With Huh Yunjin. 

Jay’s standing by the counter, nodding slowly at her. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you can hear how loud she’s laughing about it, her head falling back as her hand hits his bicep, lingering before falling to his forearm and then back to her side. Yunjin flirting, that much is clear—flipping her silky dark hair, batting her long lashes at him. And Jay is.. he’s smiling. A lot. That same easy grin you’ve been daydreaming about for the past few weeks. 

When you look back at Jeno, his smile doesn’t falter, bright and sweet, reassuring. “He’s just being nice,” he says, waving a hand dismissively like it’s obvious. 

Maybe it is. 

Either way, you need to get out of here. 

Unfortunately, the kitchen is your closest escape route, a narrow corridor of laughter and sticky floors, the sharp smell of spilt beer, and something frying in a pan. Laughter rings louder in here, or maybe it’s just Yunjin’s—bright, clear, happy. You don’t dare glance at them. Your feet move faster, eyes fixed on the smudged glass of the back door. The LEDs in the kitchen are too vivid, shifting through the spectrum at what must be lightspeed, catching on the edges of Jay’s smile—you can feel it even if you refuse to look. Her laugh spills through the air, wrapping around you, making the room smaller.

Under your hand, the door gives easily, like it understands your urgency, and as soon as you step outside, the air is thicker than you remember—a stuffy night that might swallow you whole, and you find yourself staring at the sky. Despite being indistinguishable from one another, meshing to create a great, thick purple mass over your head, you can’t deny how beautiful the clouds still are. You don’t mean to get so caught up in the sight, but it happens, forcing you to take a seat in the dry grass before you even realise it. 

There is, you’ve found, something quite humbling about getting second, third, and fourth opinions on your outfit after perfecting your hair and makeup, only to be bested by a girl with bright pink star-shaped pimple patches on, wearing a baby tee and baggy jorts—the outfit you’d changed out of in favour of Aeri’s black dress that’s a guaranteed compliment magnet. 

The clouds, while messy, are a good distraction from what you saw inside, which.. was nothing, ultimately. It’s not like it’s against the law to laugh and drink with a girl. Is it? You shake your head to clear the thought. The clouds are pretty and everyone around you is having a good time, so you should too. 

You hear Jay’s voice before you see him, smile audible around his words, each syllable dripping with excitement. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you!” he calls out from behind you. It’s the kind of statement that might come off as cliché, mildly ridiculous if it weren’t for the fact that Jay said it. And because it is Jay — and because you are drunk — it feels like something else entirely. Something you can’t quite put your finger on but makes your heart stutter all the same.

When he reaches you, he asks if he can sit and you nod, patting the spot beside you in the grass. Jay doesn’t hesitate to sit down, leaving no space between the two of you, thigh pressed against yours like there’s no other option—like it belongs there. His lips curl up even more, and there’s that smile, beautiful even in the dark—a little lopsided, entirely irresistible. The kind of smile you haven’t seen since the night you met, drunken giddiness written all over it, eyes twinkling at you. For a split second, you remember Yunjin’s hand on his arm, how he’d smiled at her. But here he is, beside you now, all of his attention on you, and it’s hard to remember why you’d been bothered at all. With your heart beating in the back of your throat, you turn away from him, head tilting towards the sky again, eyes locked on the clouds.

Jay doesn’t take his eyes off you. “What’re we looking at?” he asks, voice thick with curiosity. 

“The clouds,” you say softly, raising your arm to point at the sky as if he might not understand. “They’re kind of a mess tonight—I can’t make anything out.” 

At this, he follows your gaze, leaning back on his hands. You turn your head instinctively, attention on him and the straight slope of his nose. His smile doesn’t fade, his dimple is still showing. He looks so good it’s unreasonable—how could you ever look at another guy and be anything remotely close to interested again? It seems like getting to watch him watch the clouds is the universe’s way of rewarding you for existing.

“Huh.. I can’t make anything out either,” he says finally. “But, I really like your dress. A lot, you look so beautiful, I like it.” 

An audible smile stretches your lips, heart tripping over itself as you thank him, cheeks burning enough to rival the summer heat.

Silence falls between you and it’s as if the world has shrunk down to you two and the murky sky above—sounds of the party quieting to a distant hum as they fade into the background. It’s nice, more comfortable than maybe it should be, though fleeting because Jay’s quick to break it, amusement clear in his voice when he says, “Jaehyun is so gone, by the way. I don’t know if you’ve seen him, but he’s completely fucked.”

You can’t help but laugh, finding the image easy to picture even without seeing him tonight. “Yeah, Jeno’s on DD tonight. Poor guy, I think Jaehyun’s just trying to make up for all the drinks Jen’s missing.”

Jay considers this for a while, head nodding in slow contemplation before he chuckles—a low, sardonic sound. “Jeno’s.. he’s a solid guy.”

This makes you laugh too, a soft smile on your lips as you agree, perhaps too dreamily. “Yeah, he is.” 

“You two seem really close,” he blurts out, all subtlety lost to alcohol. 

“We are really close.” You shrug, fighting a smile. “He likes to pretend we all annoy him, but I know he likes us relying on him—so I’m always asking him for help with things, even if I know I can do it myself.”

Jay turns his head slightly, his eyes still on you, but there’s something different in his gaze now that makes your breath catch. It’s soft again, more than you’ve ever seen it as a small smile curves his lips. “You’re always looking after everyone, aren’t you?”

You wonder if his question is a trap, but step into it anyway. “I’m trying to,” you admit, keeping your answer short before you start monologuing about how much you love doing it.

Your response only makes his smile widen, a soft look in his eyes when he says, “Maybe I should start looking after you, then. You keep focusing on everyone else, and I’ll focus on you.”

A tickly flutter goes off in your stomach at his words. It’s so Jay to say something like that and mean it, and it works on you every single time. 

“Yeah, alright,” you say, giving in. “Maybe you should.”

Ever since you got Jay’s number, you’ve been hyper aware of the fact that you have it. His name, Park Jay, nestled snugly between Na Jaemin and Park Jisung in your contact list, sticks out like a sore thumb—reminding you of the fact that you haven’t used it yet, even though you want to.

Jay, choosing to be a gentleman — you think — had asked if you wanted his number after Mark’s party like it wasn’t a big deal and beamed when you said yes—placing the ball firmly in your court. And there it’s been, for a whole week, sitting at your feet, collecting dust. 

Minjeong’s teasing has been lighthearted enough, poking her head into your room and asking if you’ve texted him yet quickly becoming part of her daily routine. And shaking your head while mumbling a refutation has quickly become part of yours. But when Minjeong teams up with Jimin? That’s another story entirely. Emboldened by her girlfriend, Minjeong’s pestering is relentless. After an hour of being ignored — even though you’re wedged between them on the couch — you find yourself wishing for the constant teasing instead. 

Enough is enough. 

Your frustration reaches a peak, forcing you off the couch. “Fine!” you say, shocking yourself, and the girls with your volume. “What should I say?” 

Jimin gives you a wicked grin, eyes glowing with mischief, but Minjeong is quick to rein her in. “Just ask if he wants to hang out tonight.” 

“Tonight? Minjeong, it’s six o’clock!” you say, scandalised at the mere suggestion. 

“What are you, eighty? It’s barely evening!” Jimin scoffs, rolling her eyes.

Minjeong shakes her head. “No, this is perfect. If he takes a while to respond, it won’t be too late to make new plans.” 

“Takes a while to respond?” Jimin repeats, eyes wide with shock. She groans dramatically, throwing her head back. “This is YN we’re talking about. The poor guy’s probably been glued to his phone all week, wondering what’s taking so long.” 

The visual, while unrealistic, makes you giddy all the same—the thought of Jay pacing around his apartment, phone in hand, getting his hopes up when it goes off, only to sigh when he realises it’s not you. You can’t help getting carried away while the girls go back and forth, imagining what it might be like when you finally text him, losing his cool over a simple: Hey, it’s YN. Sorry, I took so long, been busy. Apparently, in this version of events, you’re a cool girl™—vague, mysterious, and nonchalant. Confident, cocky even, but no one cares because you’re hot and everyone knows it. 

In the spirit of the cool girl™, you pull up his contact and start typing, sending your message without hesitation. 

You: Hey, I was just wondering if you’re free tn and maybe we could hang out?

You: This is YN btw………

Against all the odds, as Jimin predicted, Jay replies immediately, like he’d truly been waiting by the phone for you to text. You’re so taken aback by his response that you gasp, causing both girls’ heads to snap in your direction, eyes wide with anticipation. But you’re too caught up trying to process the speed of his reply to relay the fact it happened at all. 

“What?” They say in unison. “What is it?” 

“YN!” you read out loud, snapping back to reality. “Good hearing from you, I was actually about to start making dinner.” 

“I told you! I told you!” Jimin jumps to her feet, joy radiating from every single part of her. In the middle of her celebration, your phone vibrates with another text from him, and she reads it aloud over your shoulder. “If you haven’t eaten already, we could eat together?” 

At this, Minjeong gets up too, standing on your other side as he starts typing again. 

Jay: And if you have eaten already, maybe you could just keep me company while I eat?

The girls immediately spring into action, running to your bedroom before you’ve even had a chance to send a reply to him. After minimal deliberation, you tell him you haven’t eaten yet, and Jay asks if you like steak. With your plans confirmed, and butterflies in your stomach, you join the girls, sighing when you see the state of your room—wardrobe doors flung open, your dresser drawers all varying levels of ajar, and potential outfits laid out on the bed. 

Despite the mess they’ve made, having the girls around to help out has really taken a weight off your shoulders, and as you pull your favourite skirt over your hips, you can’t help but let out a sigh of relief. In your full-length mirror, you assess the outfit — with Minjeong and Jimin grinning at either side of you like your fairy godmothers — and nod your head, deeming it worthy. Cute and simple enough to seem effortless despite the thirty minutes it took all three of you to agree on it.

With your makeup done and a strawberry margarita — which Jimin coerced you into drinking ‘for confidence’ — heating your stomach, the two girls finally dismiss you, watching you walk to the bus stop from the living room window, yelling a stream of good lucks and tell us everythings. 

On Jay’s doorstep, you can’t help but linger, wondering if it’s not too late to walk away. Wondering how on earth you went from sitting in silence on the couch to standing outside of the door to — what feels like — the rest of your life in a matter of hours. Doubts creep in, and the bottle of wine poking out of your bag starts feeling like a bit much, a box of chocolates might have sufficed. Maybe you should have come empty-handed; it’s not like this is a date or anything. 

Right?

Jay answers the door when you knock on it. Handsome as ever with a wide smile on his face, a button-up and loose jeans hanging from his frame—exuding an effortlessness that has you weak in the knees. You barely manage to get all the way through saying hello to him when he pulls you into a hug, the light scent of laundry detergent and something warm, sweet, hits your nostrils, distracting you from the weight of his arms around your shoulders, and how at ease you suddenly are. 

“Did you get here okay? I know the route from the bus stop can be kind of tricky.” His hold on you loosens, though his scent lingers. Concern knits his brows together, eyes boring into yours as his lips pout around his words. “I wish you would’ve let me pick you up.” 

Butterflies go wild in your stomach as you smile at him, shaking your head. “I got on just fine, Jay, stop worrying,” you assure him—like the five-minute walk, as Google Maps predicted, hadn’t taken you ten minutes. 

Jay stares down at you like he doesn’t believe you, though he doesn’t press you on it, only stepping aside to let you in. He tells you that you look so pretty, that he’s happy to see you as you take your shoes off by the door, and, shyly, you mumble your thanks, cheeks burning. Immediately, you take the bottle of wine from your bag, holding it out to him. With both hands, he accepts it, grinning at you, gratitude clear in his eyes. Behind him, there’s a white console table—stylish and sleek, yes, but it’s the painting leaning against it that catches your eye. A landscape, abstract with thick strokes of lush greens, and blocky white masses scattered over what looks like a blue sky. Jay follows your eyeline over his shoulder, looking back at you with a smile. 

“It’s new, Hoon brought it when he got back from visiting his parents, his little sister painted it.” 

Nosy, you nod eagerly when Jay offers a tour of his apartment—it’s spotless. Cleaner than the place you and Minjeong share, which admittedly, with all the hosting you’ve been doing, has a habit of getting messy within hours of straightening up. All of the furniture is sleek, modern yet tasteful, leaps and bounds away from the micro-trend hellscapes that some of the other guys you know inhabit.

Sunghoon’s bedroom door is propped open, and Jay lets you peek inside, though begs you not to cross the threshold because he’ll know. With a smile on his face, he explains that it’s the bigger of the two rooms and that they played rock, paper, scissors to see who would get it—though both boys walked away victorious, with Sunghoon winning the bigger room, and Jay winning the en-suite. It might be the tidiest bedroom you’ve seen in your life, nothing looks like it’s not in place. Even his rug is perfectly aligned, running parallel to the bed, and the only thing on his dresser is a framed photo of Sunghoon and his friends, sitting dead centre. 

“Is he home tonight?” you ask, suddenly noting the stillness of the apartment. 

Jay’s answer takes a moment to come out, a look on his face that tells you he wasn’t expecting you to ask. “I.. I sort of kicked him out when you agreed to come over,” he admits, looking down at his feet. There’s a bashfulness to his demeanour that you’re not used to seeing from him, but endears you nonetheless. A giggle slips out when you see the red flush spreading over his neck. 

Only as he continues leading you through the apartment does your solitude, and its weight, dawn on you—the fact that he went out of his way to ensure you’d be alone. Your heart skips a beat, imagination spiralling out of control as you wonder what this might mean about tonight, or if Jay has any expectations. Before you even have the chance to picture his button-up slipping down his shoulders, rationale reels you back in. You’d have done the same if roles were reversed—asking Minjeong to leave. Not because of ‘expectations’, but to rid you both of the pressure of having an audience.

In contrast, Jay’s room is full of clutter—though somehow remains tidy. All of his likes and interests greet you from every corner—walls covered in posters, trinkets on his desk, a handful of plushies on his bed, a full guitar stand by the door, and a glass display cabinet housing his collection of whiskey and signed records. With utmost reverence, he takes a moment to tell you about his most prized possession, a signed copy of Definitely Maybe by Oasis. 

“I was so distracted trying to bid for that on the train, I ended up like four towns over and the ticket inspector charged me crazy. Worth it though.”

“I bet,” you agree with a smile, feeling like you understand him better after having seen his room. 

As Jay leads you to the kitchen, you can’t stop yourself from saying, “I never thought you’d be such a neat freak.” 

He chuckles, raising a brow as he looks at you. “You think about me?” 

This makes you stutter, unsure how to respond and Jay nudges you gently with his elbow. 

“I’m teasing, relax.” He’s smirking though, triumphant looking. “It’s all Hoon’s doing,” he admits after a beat. “I probably wouldn’t be so tidy if it wasn’t for him picking up after me all the time when we roomed together in first year. He made it a habit.” 

Everything is laid out on the counter, waiting to be cooked, and Jay ties a black apron around his waist, suddenly becoming very cinched in his oversized clothes, the breadth of his shoulders standing out to you like a third person in the room. Right when you offer to help him out, Jay offers you a drink. You say yes. Jay says no. 

“Should we open the bottle?” he asks, reaching for it when you nod. “I wouldn’t invite you over for dinner then make you cook it, come on, YN, have some faith in me.”

“Alright, alright,” you concede, shy under his soft gaze.

With a nod, Jay reaches into one of the cabinets behind him, pulling out two glasses and opening the bottle. He pours the wine into both of them, filling one about halfway, while you stand around awkwardly, lingering by the counter. With the fuller glass in hand, he steps past you, setting it down on the table and pulling out a chair. 

“You can sit down if you’d like,” he offers, eyes meeting yours as his hands rest on the back of the chair. 

A smile tugs at your lips, and you nod. “I’d like,” you say, sitting down. “How come you filled mine up so much?” you ask. 

“If it were just me, I’d drive home after two glasses and some time, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything when I’m taking you home, so I just poured a little so I could try it.” 

You nod, not even trying to argue on the point of him driving you home later because it already took you ten minutes to convince him to let you make your own way to his. With a smile, Jay clinks his glass against yours and the two of you take a sip. 

To you, wine is wine—you like white, you love rosé, and you can tolerate red if you’re already drunk. To Jay, it seems, wine is an experience—a great one if the appreciative hum he lets out while examining the label is anything to go by. 

“You know your shit, huh? White doesn’t typically go with steak, but chardonnay is beautiful, this one especially,” he comments after a sip, setting down his glass.

“Really?” When Jay nods in response, you smile. “Lucky guess,” you tell him, shrugging. 

This is not entirely untrue—if the definition of a ‘lucky guess’ can be stretched to include meticulous research into finding out which white wine pairs best with steak, and pulling a highly recommended (and affordable) bottle from the shelf at the shop after reading an argument on the r/wine subreddit. 

“Are you sure you don’t need a hand?” you ask again.

Jay nods. “I promise.” 

“There’s really nothing I can do to help?” 

“Just let me do something nice for you,” he says, though it comes out like a question, like a sincere request. 

It’s nice, albeit weird, to have him — to have anyone — insist on taking care of you when you’re perfectly capable. Of course, Jeno’s always there to take you home when you’ve had too much to drink, and Minjeong will always make you soup and hot tea when you have the flu, but neither of them would ever insist on doing all the work, while you, unencumbered by alcohol or illness, sit there and watch. 

Jay’s words echo in your head, each one slowly sinking in with tangible weight and then hitting you all at once. You keep focusing on everyone else, and I’ll just focus on you. He’s keeping his promise, you realise. Without prompt or reminder, not out of obligation or expectation, but simply because he can and wants to. This realisation changes the way he looks to you—he’s softer around the edges somehow, hazy like an apparition, glowing under the soft warm cast of the lightbulb over your heads. 

It’s at this moment, here in Jay’s kitchen, that you realise this isn’t just a silly crush anymore. 

As dreamy as the situation is, with a handsome man — who is not only kind, but is living and breathing and single — about to make a meal for you, it’s not the ideal moment for such an epiphany. 

At the table, you sit with one leg crossed over the other, admiring the various magnets and photos stuck to the fridge, showing off trips to different countries and nights out immortalised in 6x4 prints, pretending like you feel a healthy and appropriate amount of affection for the man in front of you. All the while he moves around the kitchen, washing his hands before opening a packet of spaghetti. He falters, staring at it like it’s some kind of puzzle, but he doesn’t speak up until he notices your eyes on him. 

“I swear I know what I’m doing,” he mumbles, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice. 

You smile, amused. “I don’t doubt it.”

Jay empties some of the noodles into his palm, holding it in his hand and eyeing it for a beat before extending it to you with wide eyes. “Do you think that’s enough for one serving?” 

Tilting your head, you try to remember the general rule. “I think it’s meant to be about the size of a coin.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, nodding along. “Which one?”

“I.. have no idea.”

Jay grins, wide and boyish — butterfly-inducing — shaking his head. “Great advice, YN. Thanks.”

It only takes a quick Google search to restore his confidence, and before long, the kitchen is filled with the sound of boiling water bubbling away on the stove as the pasta softens into it. In the meantime, he cracks two eggs into a bowl, whisking them together before grating a generous amount of cheese into the mixture. You watch him with interest, leaning over a little. For Jay, the cooking process is a much more serious practice than when you do it—lucky to find yourself making more than a pot of ramen or rice in the cooker. 

“Did you put olive oil in the water?” you ask, genuinely curious. 

Jay smiles, shaking his head. “You’re not supposed to. At least, they don’t in Italy.” 

“Ahh,” you hum, nodding thoughtfully. “When in Rome.” 

He finds this hilarious, laughing as he stirs the mixture. “When in Rome,” he repeats to himself under his breath, trying the phrase on for size. 

Even with his attention back on the task at hand, focused on making dinner — a simple but delicious meal, steak and pasta, his speciality, he’d said — his enthusiasm is subtle yet hard to miss. It’s not lost on you how his eyes light up when he lifts the dark green sleeve on the end of the counter, taking out a shiny knife. It's new, he tells you, before launching into a story about how he ran around like a madman this afternoon trying to get it sharpened. A proud grin on his face as he shows you the spot on the bottom of the blade where his name is engraved. 

It’s clear as day that cooking is more than a hobby for him, but a passion—a fact that shows itself to you as the process continues. From the way his tongue pokes out between his lips while he works to how carefully he handles each of the ingredients—chopping vegetables delicately, only seasoning the steaks on one side, and going so far as to wrap them in twine so they keep their shape. He doesn’t skimp out on presentation either. He uses chopsticks to twirl the pasta in the pan before moving it carefully to the centre of the plate, twirling it again for good measure. The first one comes out beautifully, restaurant-worthy, and the second one—not so much. Even after a few attempts, the pasta still refuses to cooperate, and the tips of his ears flush. 

“Only one of them needs to look good,” he mumbles, a sheepish smile on his face as he looks up at you. “This one’s mine.” His honesty is endearing, and you grin despite yourself as you watch him chop the cooked steak, sheer concentration written all over his face. 

After a while, he looks up from the chopping board, his gaze meeting yours, a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “Sorry if I’m being weird,” he blurts out. “I don’t normally cook in front of anyone besides my mum.” 

A soft smile plays on your lips as you try to ignore the butterflies flitting about in your stomach. “You’re not being weird, don’t worry about it,” you assure him, doing your best to sound calm and collected. To sound like someone who’s not reading too much into being one of the first people to see him cook. “If anything, I’m the weirdo who can’t take her eyes off you.”

Jay chuckles at this, a grin spreading across his face as he shakes his head. “That makes two of us.”

With more success, he moves the chopped steak from board to plate, setting the sauteed vegetables on the side. A sigh of relief slips out of him, proud of his work, and he smiles at you, carrying your plate to the table and setting it down in front of you before bringing over his own plate and glass. 

Steam brings the smell straight to your nose, so enticing already that you have to suppress a moan—though you can’t do anything about the quiet rumbling of your stomach. The food looks beautiful, so beautiful that without thinking, you pull out your phone and snap a picture, knowing that this moment — this meal — will linger in your mind long after tonight, no matter what ends up happening between you and Jay. 

As you set your phone down, his eyes are lit up with anticipation. You wonder if he notices the way he’s leaning forward, watching you expectantly, like a student awaiting a teacher’s critique, eager for you to take that first bite. The weight of his gaze makes you nervous, but as another, particularly tempting, waft of steak tickles your nostrils, you pick up your fork and tuck in. 

Life begins, in earnest you think, the moment the food touches your tongue. It’s a simple meal, a carbonara with steak, but it’s unlike anything you’ve eaten in your life. Your eyes flutter shut and you slump in your seat a little, a low hum of approval escaping your lips. The steak is tender, perfectly seasoned, and the pasta is rich, creamy, the perfect balance of flavours. Delicious isn’t enough of a word—you’re not even sure if heavenly would cut it either.

When you finally open your eyes, Jay’s watching you intently, his expression a mixture of pride and nervousness, as if he’s hanging onto every minute detail of your reactions, deciphering it. The way his gaze softens when he sees your smile makes your heart flutter. You nod your head, still savouring the taste, and find yourself at a loss for words. All you can manage is a breathless, “Holy shit.” 

Jay doesn’t relax quite yet. “Is that a good ‘holy shit’ or a bad one?” 

“Are you kidding? It’s an incredible ‘holy shit’, the best ‘holy shit’ I’ve ever uttered,” you say, eyes wide in disbelief that he could even think otherwise. 

Finally, he grins and it’s everything, his shoulders relaxing as a wave of relief seems to wash over him. You watch him, awestruck, absently stabbing at a chunk of steak. 

“I take it you like cooking then?” you ask dumbly. 

Jay nods, laughing a little. “It’s fun.” 

“It’s a lot of work.” 

“I’m not scared of hard work.” He shrugs, smile unwavering, though there’s something in his eyes that you can’t make out. “It was, like, my second ever dream—to be a chef.”

Curious, you raise an eyebrow. “What was your first dream?” 

“I—uh..” Jay’s cheeks redden as he chuckles, twirling pasta on his fork, but he doesn’t seem embarrassed. “I had wanted to sell watermelons, at first. My mum has, like, at least three years’ worth of icebreaker sheets from primary school where I wrote about wanting to be a watermelon salesman.”

You can’t help but laugh, covering your mouth with your hand, thinking fondly of a tiny Jay with twinkling eyes and dreams of watermelons. “Why watermelons?”

“They’re my favourite,” he says simply. 

You hum in response. “When did law come into the picture?” you ask. 

Jay tilts his head, pausing to chew as he considers this. “Sort of late, honestly. I think I was.. around seventeen? I just knew I wanted to help people—so I had also thought about being a doctor, a social worker, a teacher, but I chose law. I’m not sure why, but my parents were really happy when I brought it up, so..” He trails off, taking a sip from his glass. “They’re super supportive, so it’s not like they pressured me or anything, it’s just.. they sacrificed a lot for me, and I’m their only kid, so I feel like I should give them something to be proud of.”

You pause, the food on your fork and his words hanging in the air, and you’re not really sure what to say. Jay seems to sense this, quickly adding, “But I love studying law, so it could be a lot worse.” 

Nodding, you smile at him. “And at least you’ll get to help people.” 

His smile returns. “At least I’ll get to help people.” He seems pleased with this as if realising it for the first time. A moment passes as he considers it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get biblical during our first time hanging out.” 

A soft laugh comes out of you as you sit up straighter in your seat. “If this is your version of biblical, I think I could get used to it.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.” He grins. 

As the meal goes on, you can’t stop gushing over his cooking skills and Jay can’t stop beaming at you, humbly accepting your compliments as his cheeks grow redder and redder. Long after your plates are clear, the two of you stay at the table, conversation meandering through various topics, with him asking about your plans after studying Literature — which you haven’t completely finalised, and he assures you that’s okay — and the two of you discovering that your Brownie and Cub Scout troops were being run out of the same church hall. You laugh and chat, the rhythm between you only growing more and more comfortable as the night stretches on. 

Eventually, you stand up and start gathering the dishes, despite Jay’s immediate protest. “You don’t have to do that,” he says, though there’s a soft, resigned smile on his face that tells you he knows better than to try and stop you. 

“Too late,” you tease, stacking plates and taking them to the sink. 

He follows, grumbling half-heartedly about how you’re supposed to be relaxing, but you shake your head, rolling up your sleeves as you help him load the dishwasher. “You know, I’m not happy about this,” Jay mumbles, handing you another pan. His words might have held more weight if it weren’t for the playful glint in his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, sure you’re not.” You grin despite yourself as you slot the last dish into place.

With the kitchen tidied up, the two of you stay on your feet, watching each other until you reach for your glass on the counter beside you, taking a slow sip and finishing the last of your wine. 

“Top up?” he asks, raising the bottle, eyebrows quirked up.

You consider it for a moment before nodding. “Yes, please.” 

Jay nods, filling your glass before pouring himself a glass of water instead. He leans back against the counter, taking a sip, and you have to make an effort to tear your eyes off of him, looking over at the fridge instead. 

“These are so cute,” you say, gesturing towards the magnets and photos on the door. “Looks like you’ve been to some cool places.” 

He smiles, stepping closer to the fridge — closer to you — as if seeing it anew through your eyes. “Yeah, some of these are from trips with the guys. I love magnets, and Hoon basically worships his film camera, so he’s always getting pictures of us doing stupid shit—he doesn’t leave the house without it.” 

You lean in, getting a closer look, examining the photos with curiosity. It’s hard not to notice that Jay is always smiling when he sees the camera on him, a sincere grin from ear to ear no matter who he’s with or where he is. He shrugs when you point it out. 

“It’s not something I think much about. I guess I always find myself around things, or people, worth smiling about.” 

His words make your heart stutter, a warmth spreading through you that you’re sure has nothing to do with the wine. For a split second, the air around you changes, charged with something you don’t have the wits to put a finger on. So you take another sip from your glass and look up at him. “Lucky you,” you say. 

“Yeah.” Jay’s eyes find yours, a small smile curving his lips. “Lucky me.” 

At your request, he spends a while telling you the story behind some of the photos, until you somehow know the lore behind each one, and Jay asks if you want to hang out in the living room. The two of you chat mindlessly on the couch, inching towards each other little by little, and it’s not until Minjeong sends you a text asking if you’re coming home that either of you realise it’s well after midnight already. 

“Wow, it’s late,” you say, a mix of surprise and reluctance in your voice. 

Jay glances at his watch, eyebrows raising. “I guess time really does fly when you’re exchanging embarrassing stories about Jaehyun.” 

Laughing again, you stand up from the couch, getting your things together as Jay takes your long-empty glass to the kitchen. Before long, you’re getting into his car and heading home. The quiet hum of the radio is lost entirely to conversation, a grin on his face as Jay tells you he finally had time to check out How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, and that it was every bit as good as you said it was that night at the bonfire.

At the bonfire—it feels like years have gone by since then. 

You were confident you remembered every last detail of the conversation you shared that night, but it’s only when Jay brings up the movie that the moment comes back to you. You hadn’t even said it was a favourite of yours — which it is — just that you bought the yellow bikini you were wearing because it reminded you of the colour of Kate Hudson’s dress in the movie. The fact that Jay took the time to watch the movie at all makes your heart skip a beat. 

Your heart has a funny way of doing that when he’s around. 

Time slips away without warning, and before you know it, the car slows to a gentle stop. You blink, slightly disoriented, to find your building right in front of you. Jay’s already unbuckling his seatbelt when you find your voice, it’s softer than you mean for it to be but insistent nonetheless, telling him he doesn’t need to walk you up. But Jay, ever so stubborn in his quiet way, is out of the car before you realise, rounding to your side and opening the door with a smile. 

“What kind of guy doesn’t walk a girl up after driving her home?” he asks, his brow knitting in a way that feels both sincere and playful as you step out. 

You tilt your head, adjusting your skirt. “You’d be surprised.” The words slip out before you can stop them. 

Jay’s frown is fleeting, a shadow that passes as quickly as it comes. He doesn’t say anything though, simply shakes his head and locks the car. The cool air of your building embraces you as you step in, the stuffy night air left outside as the door swings shut behind you. And for the first time all evening, silence stretches over you—the sounds of your apartment complex at 1 a.m. only amplified because of it. The elevator arrives with a soft chime, and Jay gestures for you to get in first. The air in the lift is different—heavier, not with discomfort but with the weight of things unspoken, words lingering on the tips of your tongues. You wonder what he’s thinking. As the doors open up on your floor, the tension finds a way to relieve itself, though the quiet follows you out. 

When you reach your door, you pause, gesturing towards it. “This is me.”

Jay’s expression shifts, a spark of playfulness behind his eyes. “No, that’s a door,” he points out, the corners of his mouth lifting into a grin that quickly breaks into laughter, rich and warm. 

You roll your eyes, but the smile tugging at your own lips is inevitable. “You’re hilarious,” you mumble, and his laughter only grows, echoing down the hall.

As his laughter fades, his expression softens, and the two of you settle into silence again. 

“I’m really happy you texted me tonight,” Jay admits, a smile on his face as he speaks. “I’ve been going crazy in my apartment hoping you would—was starting to lose hope actually,” he continues in his typical manner. 

So earnest yet so casual, said not just for saying’s sake, but because it’s the truth—because he wants you to know. 

And in your typical manner, you are charmed, stomach turning giddily, heat rushing to your cheeks and spreading down your neck. It’s a mystery to you how you don’t melt into a puddle by his feet. You can’t help smiling, and a soft chuckle slips out of you knowing how pleased Jimin’s going to be when she finds out her prediction was correct. 

“You’ve been thinking about me?” you ask, teasing him with his words from earlier. 

They don’t have the same effect on him as they’d had on you, though. Jay only smiles, nodding. “Of course, I’ve been thinking about you.” He tucks his hands into his pockets, swaying gently on his heels, letting his eyes fall to your lips where they linger for more than a short while before meeting your eyes again. 

“Right,” you say, suddenly nervous. “Right. Well, thanks for dinner, and for bringing me home, I had a lot of fun.” 

He raises his shoulders a little, shrugging. “Anytime,” he says, and you’re sure he means it. “Thank you for coming, I had a lot of fun too.” Jay bites his bottom lip, teeth denting the plump skin. 

A beat passes, slow in a good way—the two of you just looking at each other. Waiting—though for what you aren’t sure. In your ribcage, your heart hammers so hard you almost check to see if it’s visible through your shirt. You can’t stop smiling. 

“Goodnight, Jay,” you say, finally. 

His grin deepens, two dimples coming out to bid you goodnight as well. “Goodnight, YN.” 

Even after you’ve locked the door, Jay stays exactly where you left him on your doormat for a few minutes, grinning to himself, while you watch through the peephole, grinning too. The smile on your face doesn’t fade, even as you slip off your shoes, soft steps leading you to the bathroom like you’re floating. 

Your smile is unwavering, bright and beaming while you brush your teeth, though you have to try a little more to hang onto it when you get into the shower, try to let the warmth of the evening stay with you a bit longer as you drag your exfoliating glove over your skin. He’s so sweet, you think. They were right about him. It’s hard to push the thought aside, but you try, try to replace it with the thought of that smile, those dimples. He’s just nice. The words don’t leave you, no matter how hard you scrub. 

The bathroom is thick with steam when you leave the shower, the heat of the water clinging to your skin even as you dry off. Your moisturiser is too slick between your fingers, too smooth, like it’s slipping away before you’ve fully grasped it. You sigh, rubbing it into your skin, its soft vanilla scent a comfort, finally, a comfort. 

Minjeong is laying on your bed when you get back to your room, amongst all of your plushies, a white teddy bear your dad got for you on a trip to London tucked under her arm as she scrolls on her phone. She quickly locks it upon seeing you, sitting up, a grin on her face when she asks, “How was dinner with your boyfriend?” 

The question stirs butterflies in your stomach, a smile creeping onto your own lips as you approach the bed to move your plushies, two at a time like always, to your desk. “I do not have a boyfriend,” you mutter, flustered. 

“You tanked dinner?” Her voice is soft, faux disappointment dripping from it as she sighs. “Damn, we were rooting for you.” 

Suddenly defensive, you look over your shoulder at her, your last two plushies in your hands, shaking a little. Not enough for Minjeong to notice, but enough that you feel it—a tremor of excitement, nerves maybe, you can’t tell. “I didn’t tank dinner either.” You can’t stop grinning at the thought, and there’s no point trying to school your expression as you approach the bed to get in. You peel the duvet back and Minjeong scooches off of it, helping you push it down to the end of the mattress as you lie down, facing each other. 

Eagerness and curiosity shine in her eyes as she demands, “Tell me everything.” And so, you do.

She squeals to herself, the picture of delight as she kicks her feet, covering her face with her hands. “He’s so sweet!” she yells, so loud you have to reach out and cover her mouth with your hand. “I’m ready to be quiet now,” she mumbles into your palm. You wait for a beat before freeing her, wiping your hand on your thigh as she continues, “He really likes you, are you kidding? What are you waiting for?” 

You shake your head, shutting her down immediately, shutting down your own hopes before they even have a chance to materialise again. “He’s just being nice,” you say, more for yourself than for Minjeong.

There’s no playfulness on her face anymore. “Why can’t he be nice and really like you?” No playfulness in her voice either. “Get out of your own way for once.” 

Minjeong, in her way, is being kind. You know she’s being kind. The edge in her voice not matching the sweetness in her eyes, or the gentle squeeze of your hand in hers. But her words sting all the same. 

You turn away from her, facing the wall instead. “Okay, yeah,” you say. “Goodnight.” 

Behind you, she sighs, mumbling, goodnight, as she leaves your bed, turning off your lamp on the way out. Get out of your own way for once. You squeeze your eyes shut, tightly, willing sleep to come, but instead, all you can think about is the way Jay smiled at you tonight, how he lingered at your door. Maybe Minjeong is right. It might be nice not to run away from this—from Jay, and all the what-ifs you normally don’t allow yourself.

Whether you expected it to or not, dinner at Jay’s has changed a lot for you. Your text thread with him is rarely ever not at the top of your messages app, with him inundating your phone with Spotify and YouTube links—songs he likes and songs he doesn’t, videos he thinks are interesting and videos he thinks are stupid. And whatever the case, whether you like the song or the video, the two of you find ways to discuss them for hours on end, typing quickly, accuracy and punctuation to the wind, so the conversation never dies. 

He once sent you a blurry photo of a snack he knows you like while grocery shopping with Sunghoon, and when you replied, Would give up a vital organ to trade places with you rn, he showed up at your door later, a crate of yoghurt coated banana chips in each arm. “Because they were on offer,” he told you, helping you find room for twenty-four packets of dried fruit. Knowing Jay, nice as ever, you don’t doubt he would have brought them even if they weren’t.

You’ve spent more evenings than you care to count (eleven) at his place, often sitting on the couch between him and Sunghoon, watching some of the most obscure movies you’ve ever seen, low budget horrors and religious films they found on DVD at thrift shops around town. Some nights, when Sunghoon isn’t around, the two of you talk for hours on that couch, your head on his shoulder, his arm around yours. You share secrets like this, parts of yourselves that now only the two of you know about and don’t bring up again. 

Jay brings the boys to your and Minjeong’s flat whenever all your friends are over, and the two of you spend hours alone in the kitchen, sitting on the counter, sharing pizza and bottles of beer when you’re too lazy to stand up and get your own. 

It’s easy to read into the moments you spend like this, analysing them in bed before you fall asleep, hours after everyone’s left and gone home—wondering if Jay meant to hug you for longer than he hugged Minjeong, if he’s actually staring at you when he thinks you can’t see or if he’s just zoning out in your general direction. Your sleep-fogged brain always struggles to settle on a conclusion. Each morning though, while you brush your teeth, it’s hard not to think about everything you’re always hearing about him. Hard not to think of Jeno and his response to your stories, voice heavy with sleep through the phone as he says, yeah that sounds like Jay, or, we’re not all saying he’s nice just for fun, you know. Rational thinking, as always, smacks your cheek with its big, rough palm. Jay has been nice to you, of course, he has, but Jay is just a nice guy, the nicest if you ask literally anyone who’s ever even breathed near him. You spit toothpaste into the sink, blue foam on white ceramic, and sigh, suddenly tired again. 

Even with all the time you’ve been spending together, there are still nights like this—nights where you find yourself alone in the apartment, the quiet settling in like a comfortable weight. Minjeong’s spending the night at Jimin’s, but it’s not so bad, you’ve got snacks. You’ve got the leftover rice and bulgogi Minjeong made for dinner last night, and a chilled can of Guinness to keep you company. Initially, you thought you might start one of the shows on your growing watchlist, but you find yourself scrolling through your continue watching, on the hunt for Modern Family and beam with delight when you find it. 

You make it through two episodes and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps when your phone lights up next to you on the couch. It’s a text from Jay, and then another. 

Jay: Are you coming to Seunghan’s?

Jay: I don’t see any of your crew here or what but idk

A smile stretches over your lips, a giggle threatening to come out as you read the messages and read them again, wishing there was something you could do to lift the ban from Seunghan’s place, get ready, and teleport over there as quickly as possible. You wonder, though briefly, how serious Seunghan was, and if he even knew you were friends with Donghyuck—after all, he was the only one mentioned by name, and ‘your group’ could be in reference to anyone. 

You: Lmaooo I didn’t even know he was hosting tn.. 

You: Hyuck got us all barred haha so no Seunghan’s for us tonight, or ever?

Jay: Noooo that sucks

Jay: What’s your moves tn then?

You: Idk MJ’s not here so sleep soon ig

For a while, you watch the screen as your phone shows you that he’s typing, but he stops quickly before starting again, the dancing ellipses moving for at least ten seconds before they disappear again. Showing up for a split second and leaving, your text going unanswered. Locking your phone, you hit play on the TV and try to think away your disappointment at being left on read. Two whole episodes start and finish before your phone goes off again. Jay, again. 

Jay: Gonna miss you tonight :( 

You: Me too lmao

Jay: Lmao.. damn 😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢? 

You grin at the message, not bothering to keep your giggles to yourself as you type back. 

You: I meant me toooo !!!!!!! /srs 

Jay: 😸😸😸

You can’t help but think the grinning cat emoji looks like him as you put your phone down, focusing on the TV until your eyes get heavy. Knowing you’ll hate yourself if you leave your dishes in the sink, you force yourself to do the washing up now, even as you struggle to keep your eyes open. It doesn’t take too long, thankfully, and you’re drying your hands off, flicking off the kitchen light before you know it.

The knock at the door echoes through the empty flat, interrupting the soft hum of your solitude. Anxiety stirs a pit in your stomach, wondering who could possibly be here at this time, though the thought of your friends calms you down—Aeri is often more likely to come to your house unannounced after midnight than during the day. But she’s not the one standing at the door when you open it. 

For a beat, you can only stare, stunned. “Jay?” 

Your heart stumbles at the sight of him, swaying a little like he’s caught in some invisible tide. His hair is ruffled, cheeks flushed red, lips pulled up into a lopsided smile. All of a sudden, you feel startlingly awake.

“Hey,” he says, smile faltering. “It’s weird that I’m here, right?” His words are soft around the edges, beginnings and endings melting into each other. 

You want to tell him that it isn’t, that him being here feels like the most natural thing in the world. But you don’t, only shaking your head, which seems to be enough for Jay, brings his smile back. 

He bites on his bottom lip but it doesn’t stop his grin. “I just wanted to see you tonight,” he admits, and the words come out so simple, like there’s nothing more to explain. He just wanted to see you. Like it’s that easy. 

There’s no one else in the hall when you look out, head turning in both directions. “How did you get here?” you ask, voice too calm for how fast your heart is racing.

He shrugs like the answer is obvious. “I walked.” 

“From Seunghan’s?” Your voice spikes, disbelief pouring out of every syllable as you try to remember the distance. Hong Seunghan lives thirty minutes away by car. Your eyes widen, heart stumbling all over again. “How long did that take?”

Jay blinks slowly. “I left right after I sent you those emojis, and you left me on read. Thanks for that by the way.” His words are tumbling out now. “Twenty minutes? Maybe? I don’t remember.”

You stare at him, heart twisting in a way you weren’t expecting. He stumbles a little and you can’t bear it anymore. “You sent that text an hour ago, Jay. Get inside,” you say, reaching out to grab him and pull him inside. 

With your hands loosely wrapped around his arm, you guide him through the dim hallway. He trudges against the hardwood, a slow shuffle like each step is an effort, but his eyes are wide, alive, drinking in everything around him like he’s never been in your flat before. When you open the door to your room, he stops in his tracks, blinking at the sight. 

“Whoa,” he whispers, like it’s sacred. His eyes sweep over the room, taking in every detail, from the pictures on the wall to the clutter on your dresser, until they land on you. “Your bedroom,” he says, awestruck, like it’s the most important room in the world, and the thought makes your heart stutter.

It’s impossible to ignore the fluttering in your chest. You tell yourself it’s just the nerves of having a new person in your room, seeing such a personal part of you. This makes you even, you suppose, thinking of all the time you’ve spent together in his room. Still, the nervousness persists.

“I’ll get you some water,” you offer, turning quickly, desperate for a few seconds away from his gaze. 

But as soon as you step toward the door, Jay moves too, like he’s not letting you go alone. “I’ll come with you.” 

Sleepiness sets into your bones all at once, and you don’t have it in you to keep him upright again. You shake your head. “Stay here. I’ll be quick.” 

On your bedside table, you place a glass of water and a packet of paracetamol, already picturing him needing them in the morning, all while he sits on the edge of your bed, hands tucked under his thighs, eyes on the floor. You move around him, taking your plushies off the bed and leaving them on your desk. 

“I’ll take the couch,” he says suddenly. “I can’t just show up here and kick you out of your own bed.” 

Your back is turned, fingers curling around the last plushie when you answer absentmindedly. “I thought we could just sleep together.” It takes a heartbeat too long for you to process what you said. Your hand freezes, plushie half in the air as the words settle over the room. You whip your head around, eyes wide. “I mean share the bed! Just sleep in the same bed.. at the same time.” The backpedalling feels ridiculous, but you can’t stop it, cheeks burning furiously. 

Jay’s looking at you with a smile that’s half amused and half.. something you don’t quite recognise. “Right, YN. Sure.” He nods, the teasing lacing his voice so thick it sends a jolt of warmth through you, even as you try to untangle your embarrassment. 

“I’m serious,” you say, trying to regain some kind of footing. “I share the bed with my friends all the time, of course we can share.” 

For a second, so fleeting you barely catch it — like you imagined it — his smile falters. “Right,” he says again after a beat, softer this time, playful tone gone, giving way to something quieter, colder, you think. 

The temperature dips in your room, the spark gone, blown out like a candle as you get into bed, mattress sinking beside you when Jay gets in too. You feel every shift of his body, every inch of space keeping you apart. He yawns after a while, the sound breaking through the heavy silence, and relief washes over you when you hear the smile that colours his voice. “Do you cuddle with your friends too?” 

Again, your heart stumbles over yourself, the question heating your skin. You swallow, pulse loud in your ears. “I, uh.. I do, actually.” Your voice is smaller than you expect, your throat tight. 

Jay doesn’t move though, lying there completely still on his back, the same as you. His breath hitches when you shift, letting your head rest on his chest, the soft cotton of his shirt on your skin, the familiar warmth of his scent tickling your nose. With the way your heart is racing, you don’t trust your voice, so you whisper instead. “Is this okay?”

He hums in response, his arm draping over your waist, fingers brushing against the small sliver of skin exposed by your top. “Is this okay?” he whispers back, his breath warm against the top of your head.

You nod, humming. Jay’s lips spread in an audible smile, his hand squeezing your waist gently and that’s when you feel it—the strike of a match, a candle lit, heat turning over in your stomach as you fall asleep, wrapped up in the comfort of each other.

When you wake up in the morning, with the happy sun beaming through your window, you are alone—nothing left to prove Jay was even here but the smell of him on your sheets and the ring of water on your nightstand where his glass had been.

Yizhuo’s AC is fixed, finally, which the group has, justifiably, deemed cause for celebration. Less justifiable, perhaps, is the fact that you and Minjeong are the ones hosting. Again. Being the guest of honour, Yizhuo is the first to arrive, greeting you and Minjeong with a kiss on the cheek before crouching to untie her shoes by the door. 

“I couldn’t get Red Bull,” she grumbles, pushing her hair from her face. “Not for lack of trying.” 

Minjeong makes her way to the kitchen, calling out over her shoulder, “What do you mean you couldn’t?” 

“I forgot my ID at home!” Yizhuo yells, voice loud in your ear as she stands up, stretching her arms out as she yawns. “I’m giving fifteen-year-old today, I guess.” Looking at her now, with her hair falling out of the bun on top of her head, framing her face, stuck with sweat to her skin, she does look awfully young. 

You pinch her cheek. “Sweet, baby Yizhuo,” you coo, endeared by her. 

She rolls her eyes though makes no attempt to free herself from your grip. “We’re the same age.” 

“And I don’t get ID’d when I buy Red Bull,” you point out, grinning at the lack of amusement on her face. “We might have a can or two in the fridge though.” 

Yizhuo brightens up immediately, heading off to the kitchen to join Minjeong. You follow. But you don’t get very far before you hear Aeri’s laughter echoing in the corridor, a firm knock following it—she’s with Jeno and Jaemin, laughing even as she hugs you, not stopping when all six of you are sitting in the living room. 

“Surprised we beat Jaehyun here,” Jeno says, looking around as if Jaehyun might pop out from behind a piece of furniture or something. “He’s usually camped out by the door two days before the party.” 

Aeri leans into him, still laughing, laughing more. “Referring to an exam as a party is crazy work, Jen.” 

This makes Jeno crease his brows, giving her a look, laughing too. “Surely standing outside the exam hall for four hours, on the wrong day, is also, objectively, crazy work.” 

You can’t help the laugh that comes through your nose as you lean further back in your seat, and take a sip from your cup. You shake your head, poor Jaehyun. Minjeong’s phone goes off next to you, and she launches off the arm of the couch and to the front door, before Jimin even has a chance to knock. You can hear them in the hall, laughing, chatting, voices just lost to rumbling of Yizhuo’s new speaker against your floor, PinkPantheress’ new single rushing out of it into the room, as the two girls come back, Jaehyun and Donghyuck following close behind. 

Together, you share drinks and stories and laughter, so much laughter, an hour passing by quite quickly like this. And yet, they’re missing, still, all four of them—Heeseung, Jake, Sunghoon, and Jay are missing. Their absence, Jay’s mostly, looms in the periphery of your mind, inching towards the forefront, slowly but surely. You take the last sip of your cider, cool and fizzy and delicious, but it does nothing to quiet your thoughts. Even if it weren’t for your liking Jay, you would be lying if you said they haven’t all been a welcome addition to the group — your group — that has held fast through three years of university, staunchly resisting any newcomers until now. And the end of last year when Jimin started dating Minjeong. The boys fit in like they’ve been here all along, a seamless transition, easy. Until now, when their absence is so glaringly obvious, to you, at least.  

Jeno, perhaps sensing your unease, comes in from the kitchen, leaning in the doorway with a smile as he asks if the other guys are coming. The question isn’t directed at anyone in particular, but all eyes flick towards you—like you’re Jay’s personal spokesperson. You shrug, you don’t know either. “Maybe they haven’t checked the chat yet,” you offer, shrugging again in an attempt to feign calmness, to make it look like you’re not still trying to work out whether Jay’s lack of response has annoyed you, or made you anxious, or a bit upset.

Everyone nods and moves on, satisfied. Except for Minjeong, who lingers, her brows furrowing when you catch her eye. But she’s distracted a second later by Jimin’s lips on her cheek, and you take that moment to breathe, to relax. 

It doesn’t work. 

You follow Jeno back into the kitchen, looping your arm through Aeri’s as you reach into the fridge for another drink. She leans in as you open the can, her voice quiet in your ear when she says, “They’re definitely coming.” 

She’s smiling when you look at her, playing with your bracelet, but there’s a knock at the front door before you get to quiz her on it, and her lips spread into a grin as she nudges you out of the room. The door opens easily when you try the handle, and there he is. 

Jay. 

With his friends. 

He looks incredible, of course. Better somehow, his good looks amplified by his absence, you think—as they are wont to do. The freckles dotted around his left eye stand out especially, pretty like a constellation. You know from stalking his Instagram that they stick around through all four seasons, unlike the ones dotting the centre of his face, arms, and back sporadically, tiny kisses from the summer sun. He’s in a white vest and loose pants, nothing special though enough to take your breath away, arms buff, as ever, even while he’s just standing there. You shouldn’t be as surprised to see him as you are, you invited him, personally, after all. It’s just that, he didn’t exactly text you back last night when you did, or.. at all, since he left the flat last week. Heat, stupid, traitorous, creeps up the back of your neck, air knocked out of you to make space for something else, something tickly and warm, heart stuttering in your chest and you can’t tell if it’s gearing up to race ahead or stop entirely—for better or for worse, it does the former. His lips are set apart a little, slightly ajar, eyes wide, like he wasn’t expecting you to be the one to answer the door to your own place, like he wasn’t expecting to find you here at all. 

It’s Jake who breaks the silence, stepping into the apartment with an extended, hey, and a big hug for you as always, with Heeseung and Sunghoon following suit, bright beams on their faces while Jay stands there, on your doorstep, again, still as a photograph, a moment caught in time, the past. 

“It’s okay that we’re here, right?” he finally asks, voice a little tight. “That I’m here?” 

You smile but it’s just as stiff as you feel. “I invited you, didn’t I?”

Jay presses his lips into a straight line, observing you for a moment longer before nodding his head and stepping inside. He leaves his shoes by the door and joins everyone else in the living room.

The evening stretches out before you, voices rising and falling, slipping under the music as Yizhuo’s new speaker makes the floorboards vibrate. You’re sitting at the table with Jaehyun and Jake, half-listening to their conversation about.. You’re sitting at the table with Jaehyun and Jake, their conversation lost on you, background noise as far as you’re concerned. Even if you don’t have any of his, Jay has your full attention. He’s on the other side of the room, sitting on the couch next to Yizhuo, his hand wrapped around a bottle of beer and his head tilted back, laughing at something she said. You can hear it over the music, warm and infectious and genuine. 

You shift in your seat a little, crossing one leg over the other as you take a long swig from your can. Minjeong joins you, pulling a chair behind yours and resting her chin on your shoulder, arms wrapping around you—you ease up immediately. And right when you’re about to turn away, Jay looks at you. Finally. It’s only now, after its absence, that you realise how much you’ve missed that smile of his, the quirk of his lips, his deep, asymmetrical smile lines, his dimples, and perfect straight teeth. But he just looks, expression neutral and unchanging like he’s looking beyond you, through you, and then—nothing. He’s back to laughing with Yizhuo and Jeno like it’s no big deal, like your relationship, everything you’ve built up this summer, is no big deal.

“Bathroom,” Minjeong whispers in your ear, yanking you out of your chair before you have a chance to protest, and dragging you down the hall where she flicks on the extractor fan and shuts the door with a dull click that seems to mute everything on the other side of it. The bathroom light is harsher than you’ve ever realised, stark and abrasive on your eyes compared to the ambience of the living room and the rest of the flat. You’ll need to swap it with a softer bulb, a warmer one, maybe Jeno can help you change it. 

“What happened with you two?”

She’s being gentle, but her voice, the question still stings a little. You blink at her, cheeks flushed, suddenly feeling like a scolded child, and even more so when she brushes your hair behind your ears with her hands, soft, sweet, Minjeong. Unsure how to answer, you shrug, chewing on your lip.

“Did he do something?” 

You shake your head, mumbling the word, no, and hating the way her face shifts, a furrow in her brow before she sighs, pulling you in. The sudden pressure of her arms around you is unexpected but welcome. She’s hugging you tightly, the scent of her perfume, clean, light, jasmine, enveloping you, a familiar comfort as she strokes your hair. 

“It’s only me,” she mumbles into your shoulder, as if reminding you. “You can tell me if he did something.” 

The words melt into you, loosening something in your chest that you didn’t realise had been knotted so tightly. You laugh, dry, humourless, shaking your head. It takes a bit, but you manage to ease your way out of her hold, eyeing her for a moment, catching the concern written all over her face. 

“He didn’t,” you say after a while. “It was my fault, I don’t know why I let him spend the night.” 

Minjeong’s head snaps up, eyes wide, nearly bugging out of her head. “Why you let him what?” The words escape her in a burst, loud enough to make you flinch. She clamps her hand over her mouth, and you can’t help but laugh.

“He went to Seunghan’s last week, but left to come over here,” you explain vaguely, scratching at your thigh. “It was late, and he didn’t have a way home, so I told him he could sleep over.”

Her hand is still over her mouth, but you can see her brain whirring, processing this new piece of information. When she finally lowers her hand, her face is a storm of emotions—shock, disbelief, maybe even a little irritation. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

You don’t have a real answer, and Minjeong knows that. She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, the way she always does when she’s trying to keep her frustration in check. “So what happened?” she asks, and her voice is softer now, but more intense—like she’s ready to solve this mystery whether you like it or not. “How was he acting? What did he say? What did you say?” 

Playing with the hem of your shorts, you hesitate before finally giving in. The story spills out of you like water from a faucet, the night replaying in your mind as you speak, a smile on your lips as you get wrapped up in details like the little pout on his lips when you left to go get water, and how his calloused fingers felt on your skin. Minjeong squeals and grins at all the right parts, a dreamy look in her eyes until you reach the end, when she snaps out of her trance and looks at you like you’re stupid. 

“Are you, like, chronically stupid or something?” 

Oh, you think, frowning.

“Use your brain!” she yells, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Why on earth would you choose that moment to lament on friendship? Jay was in your bed — your dream guy, in your bed — and you called him your friend?” 

“Newsflash, MJ, he is my friend!” you say defensively, cheeks burning as you do your best to ignore the ache in your chest at having to call him that. “And I didn’t even really call him my friend. I meant it in a ‘I’ve shared the bed with Jeno and Jaem a million times and they’re just my friends, of course I’d share the bed with you’ sort of way.” 

Minjeong takes a step back, her face twisting in horror. “You brought up Jaemin?” 

“No! Jesus, I’m not that stupid.” 

Her brow raises, unconvinced. “Could’ve fooled me.” 

“Hey!” you shout, smacking her on the arm. She smacks you right back, and the sting of it snaps you out of your self-pity for a moment, as you mumble, “Ouch.” A small smile creeps over your lips as you rub your arm, and Minjeong catches it, her eyes softening. 

“You two need to talk,” she says firmly, her voice quieter now. She gives you a look — a mixture of exasperation and affection — right when someone knocks on the door. Minjeong looks over her shoulder at it before gripping the handle. One last look at you, stern this time. “If you don’t talk to him soon, YN, I swear, I’ll do it for you.” 

Jay texts you back as soon as you hit send, like he’d been waiting for another chance to turn you down — Yoooo that’d be so fire.. I’m out w Hoon tn but another time for sure, YN! — and it’s the seventh time he’s turned you down via text message in two weeks. 

You’ve never known him to be so popular. If it’s not Sunghoon, it’s Heeseung, or it’s Jake—or some combination of those three. If not them, it’s the guys from his Law cohort, and if not them, he’s with Jaemin, of all people. You, it seems, aren’t even worth a single night. His bro-speak comes in several painful degrees, with Monday’s message being the most violent offence. A text composed of eighty-two characters—a whopping four of them used to call you dude. Each word, a carefully crafted brick in the wall between you and the Jay you thought you knew. The Jay who drove one of the first years thirty miles home after football training because he forgot his wallet on the bus. The Jay you’ve spent the whole summer falling for. 

Being left on read would be less insulting. 

In your clenched fist, your phone — rigid, metal — starts hurting your fingers, a red imprint on your palm when you put it on your lap. As you inspect the indents in your skin, a lightbulb turns on in your head, glowing with an idea that’s either genius or unhinged. Spurred on by irritation, your fingers hover over the keys, thumb pressing send before you have a chance to change your mind. 

You: Hey Hoon, are you with Jay?

There’s a moment — a brief, anxiety-induced moment — where you consider deleting the message. But your phone goes off with a jarring ding, the screen lighting up to show you Sunghoon’s reply. 

Nah, Jay was too busy being a loser in his room to come out tn 👎

The revelation, the truth, turns your stomach, but you can’t help but laugh at Sunghoon’s next message, a belated attempt at loyalty for his best friend. 

Unless he said he’s w me, then yeah he’s at the bar rn getting drinks.

Without a second thought, you stand up from the couch, tugging your shoes on with one hand and grabbing your keys with the other before storming out. The bus is late, of course, but you’re not sure how much that matters. You sit in the hot silence of the night, anger filling the space where music normally is. Off the bus, down the winding path, and through the door to Jay’s building that a kind elderly woman holds open for you. The elevator trudges up the shaft, every jolt a reminder of why you’re here—because he’s avoiding you, and doesn’t have the decency to tell you the truth, or at least coordinate stories with his friend. When you finally knock on Jay’s door, it’s like pushing the last domino in a row. 

This door swings open, and Jay’s standing in front of you, bags under his wide eyes, surprise, and maybe guilt coating your name when he says it. He sounds confused, voice soft—a far cry from the nonchalant texts he’s been sending you. Unfortunately, the sight of him blinking sleepily at you crumbles your resolve instantly—all irritation slipping away into nothing but pure concern. “Come,” you say quietly. “Let’s go eat.” 

As if in a daze, Jay only nods, taking the key out of the door and stepping out in his sliders. 

Silence follows the two of you out of his building and all the way down the street, interrupted only by the scuffing of his shoes against the pavement. Around you, the stuffy evening air swallows up any words that might have been spoken. Then the smell of food hits, tteokbokki you think, wafting from the open door of a restaurant you’ve never been to, sharp and spicy, tempting under your nose, enough to make you stop in your tracks. Jay stops too, following you inside. 

You find a table near the window, bright sunlight shining in through the glass, warming your skin. Behind you, Jay lingers, hanging back as if he’s waiting for your permission to sit, to relax—he doesn’t though, shoulders stiff as he sits in the seat across from you. Before you know it, he’s up from his chair, already at the drinks fridge in the corner, scanning the shelves like he has a goal in mind. There’s no time to tell him what you want to drink because when you think of it, he’s already pulling the can from the shelf, lip caught between his teeth as he browses for himself. The waitress comes while he’s away, a too-bright smile plastered on her face as you order ramen for both of you and tteokbokki to share. When Jay sits back down, it’s with your drink in hand, cracking it open without a word and setting it down in front of you. You mumble your thanks but don’t take a sip, hands in your lap playing with the hem of your shorts. He doesn’t reply, staring at his own hands on the table, fingers tapping once, twice, before his gaze lifts to meet yours, lips parting to speak. 

You don’t give him a chance, cutting in. “We can talk later, Jay. Let’s just eat for now.” The words slip out, your voice quieter than you expected.

He tilts his head, the softness in his eyes catching you off guard. He says your name with a weight in his voice that makes you pause, uttering a quiet, what? in response.

“I’m sorry I lied to you tonight.”

It’s the way he says it — plain, simple, not dressed up to hide anything — that makes your chest tighten. You shake your head like he’s being silly, though you appreciate the apology nonetheless. “It’s okay,” you tell him, meaning it. He seems to know you’re being sincere.

Your food is piping hot when it reaches the table, steam heating your cheeks. Jay doesn’t seem to mind though, digging in immediately, not even stopping to blow on his ramen before eating it. His hands are quick, chopsticks moving from bowl to mouth in a blur as he nods appreciatively. You don’t even realise you’re staring until his eyes flick up to yours, straightening up a little and dabbing at his broth-red lips with a napkin. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, clearing his throat.

Without words, you stab at a cheese-covered rice cake and enjoy the tangy spice on your tongue. The sound of slurping ramen fills the air between you, but it’s not awkward, not really. Just.. quiet. And you don’t bother asking if he’s eaten yet because you can tell he hasn’t, because you know he’ll shrug it off. So instead, you start eating too, trying to match his rhythm but never quite catching up.

When your bowls are cleared and your stomachs are full, both of you rise from your seats at the same time. Jay steps towards the till first, hand already halfway into his pocket, but you stop him, hand wrapping around his wrist like a reflex. 

“I’m paying,” you say firmly, reaching for your phone. 

“YN—” He starts, but you cut him off with a shake of your head, not wanting the back and forth that always comes with dining out. 

“Don’t argue with me, Jay.” Your voice is soft but edged with a finality that makes him stop. 

This is normally the part of the night where he’d insist, eyes twinkling with challenge—but there is nothing normal about tonight. He nods, a tired smile flickering across his lips for a beat before it fades. At the till, the worker taps the total into the machine and you pay in one smooth motion, not letting Jay get close enough to protest in case he changes his mind. He watches, not saying anything as he slips his hands into his pockets, waiting for you like always. Once more, silence follows you out, walking between you like a third person joining you on the way back to his place. The air is cooler now, a breeze biting in place of the now-set sun, enough to make you wrap your arms around yourself as you walk.

“I’ll drive you home,” he says quietly, right when his building comes into view. 

For a second, you consider arguing, telling him you’ll take the bus, but you know it’s pointless. He is — for the first time in two weeks — being the Jay you’ve always known, albeit saying much less, who looks out for you even when you don’t ask him to. 

“Okay,” you mumble.

The silence doesn’t stop when you get into the car either, sitting like a passenger amongst you both, stifled only by the engine’s low hum that occupies the empty spaces you two typically fill up with conversation. Jay glances over at you every so often, his gaze clear in your peripheral as you look straight out the windscreen at the street. The quiet remains even when he pulls up to your flat. You unbuckle your seatbelt, not looking at him when you thank him or even when you hear his door opening. Again, he trails behind you. Jay’s demeanour, his quietness and distance, put a guilty pit in your stomach—you’d wanted to yell at him, chew him out when you left this evening, but now, in the silence of the elevator, all you want to do is give him a hug and stroke his back, let him cry into your shoulder—God knows it looks like he needs it. 

As you near your door, you’re not sure what to say, even as you’re turning your key in the lock and stepping inside, words escape you. Jay’s still standing on the doormat, looking down at his feet when you turn around. You stand in the open doorway, hand gripping the frame like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the moment. He’s close enough to touch but somehow miles away on his side of the door—just outside, hands in his pockets, not crossing the threshold. Not quite in your world yet.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask, for lack of anything better to say, straightening up and pointing over your shoulder as if he wouldn’t know what you meant. 

Jay shakes his head, and his voice is too loud and too quiet all at once. “I should get going. Thanks, though, for tonight.”

A sigh claws its way out from your chest, heavy exasperation coming out in the sound. “Why are you mad at me?” you demand, petulant like a child about to stomp her feet.

“Mad at you?” he repeats as if you’ve brought up a novel concept, confusion running along his knitted brows. “I’m not mad at you, YN.”

“Then..” You trail off—you’d been so sure of it, so fixated on the existence of his annoyance that you can’t help but be surprised by his denial of it and how quickly you believe him. “Well, then.. Why are you avoiding me?” 

His lips twitch, parting to speak, but you cut him off, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “And don’t say you’re not avoiding me, because I know you are.”

It’s Jay’s turn to sigh, heavily, like the weight of his own words is too much for him to bear. His hand wraps around your pointing finger, his touch sending a jolt through you as he lowers it. 

“I wasn’t going to say that, I don’t want to lie to you,” he says softly, gaze struggling to meet yours before falling to the floor. “It wasn’t going to be forever, I just needed to figure some shit out.”

Again, you’re taken aback by his words—you hadn’t been expecting him to confirm that he’d been avoiding you either. At least not so quickly. “Figure what out?” 

Jay shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and you only realise that he’d been holding onto your finger this whole time when he lets go of it, hands finding their way back into his pockets. More hesitation follows. A pit forms in your stomach as the silence stretches. “We have a good thing going, a solid friendship. I didn’t want to ruin it,” he says finally. 

Friendship. 

If it weren’t for the tightness in your throat or the way the door frame seems to be shrinking around you, you might have had it in you to laugh at how much the truth is hurting your feelings. You are friends with Jay, you’ve only ever been friends with Jay. So, why your chest is starting to hurt over this is beyond you. “Ruin it?” you ask finally, voice a mere whisper.

Jay’s eyes flick back up to meet yours, something behind them so warm it quiets your thoughts and twists your heart all at once. “It wouldn’t be fair if I kept making moves on a girl who’s clearly not interested. I mean, it might take me a while, but I can take a hint, you know?” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh, his voice softer when he continues. “I didn’t want to ruin things between us because I caught feelings and you didn’t.” 

His words, his confession, hang in the air between you, looming like a cloud that doesn’t quite know where to settle. Off-kilter. Everything is off-kilter—the corridor of your apartment building warps and skews as if you’re on the other side of a portal to an alternate dimension. Only he remains static, steady. Jay is steady. 

“You caught feelings for me?” you ask. “You like me?” Your voice doesn’t even sound like you—muffled, distant, like it belongs to someone else. The question floats between you, and you half-expect him to take it back, but instead, he nods. 

His lips tug into that same lopsided smile you’ve come to love so much—sheepish yet unashamed. “Of course, I like you. Couldn’t you tell?” He’s never sounded so gentle, helping you put together a puzzle you should have solved already. “I’ve been begging your friends all summer to let me crash your hangouts, getting into pools I had no business getting into—fuck, I even took advice from Jaemin, of all people.” 

You blink at him, stunned by what you’re hearing, his words echoing in your mind as you try to make sense of what he’s saying, to work out where everything went wrong. Suddenly, the last seven weeks of your life hit you in a starkly different light—the fact he kept appearing but never seemed surprised to see you, how he never seemed to mind watching whatever movie you mentioned, reading the books you’ve read, how he’d always look at you with the world’s affection in his eyes. He couldn’t have been less subtle if he’d been wearing a shirt that said I have feelings for you, YN!—honestly, you think he may as well have been wearing one. How didn’t you see it? It seems so obvious now that you know. 

“You asked Jaemin for advice?” It’s not the follow-up question you’d been hoping to ask, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about it.

Jay nods, laughing, and you can’t help but laugh too, more from disbelief than anything else. He runs a hand through his hair, so effortless yet still somehow looking like he’s stepped off the cover of a magazine. “Yeah, I know. Desperate times, and all that.”

Finally, the question you meant to ask makes its way out, but your voice is smaller than you expect it to be. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” 

His smile falters, eyes locked on yours as he chews his lip. “Because I didn’t want to hear you say no.”

“Jay,” you whisper, shaking your head. “How could I ever say no to you?” 

He takes a step back, more maddening distance between you—you don’t know why he won’t cross the line, why he won’t come in. “Are you saying you like me?” he asks, voice so soft you barely hear him.

“I am.” You nod, heart pounding, pulse loud in your ears. “I like you a lot.”

At this, his jaw drops—the only movement he makes for a beat. His expression quickly softens, the uncertainty in his eyes giving way to warmth. A sheepish smile quirks at his lips. “You mean it?” 

You nod, grinning at him, giggling when he repeats it to himself, you like me, his relief showing itself through a soft sigh, and he beams at you when you question him. “You really didn’t know?” 

“I knew, like, basically the whole time, sort of,” he admits, scratching at the back of his neck. “It was only when you called me your friend that night in your room that I thought I should, like.. kill myself or something.” 

Just the mention of that night is enough to make you cringe, hands coming up to cover your face as you laugh at your own obliviousness. It’s not until you hear the ding of the elevator arriving at your floor that you remember you and Jay aren’t the only two left in the world, that you’ve been standing in your doorway this whole time. As the doors whoosh open, you look up at him, and he’s looking at you with that same soft gaze you recognise but can’t name—the one that says he’s right here and he’s been here all along.

Half-grinning, half-wondering if any of this is real, you lean against the doorframe, eyes stuck on his. “Do you want to come inside?” you ask for the second time.

Jay glances at his watch, his eyes widening when he sees the time. “I really do need to get going,” he says, hesitation in his voice like he doesn’t want to leave yet, like he’s not ready to—you’re not either, the thought of another night without him, knowing what you know now, pulls your lips into a frown. His eyes follow the movement, stuck on your mouth for a beat before he frowns too, as if he’s already regretting the words. 

“I know, baby,” he coos, the word slipping out naturally like it’s been on the tip of his tongue this whole time. Then his eyes widen again, panic flashing across his face. “Wait, sorry—can I call you that? Is that okay?” 

“Baby,” you repeat, letting the word unravel in your mouth, savouring its sweetness like candy on your tongue. It echoes in your brain, itching it the right way as you nod, unsure how better to express yourself. “That’s good, I like it,” you add eventually, smiling to yourself as if the pet name was one he’d made up on the spot with you in mind.

The grin on your face feels too wide, stretched from ear to ear and aching just a bit. You can’t help it though, it’s like you’ve forgotten how to hold your face in any other way. Jay’s wearing one to match as he pulls you into his chest, his arms solid and warm around you, hands big on your waist, letting you melt into him. His shirt is soft against your cheek, his scent clinging to it—warm and sweet and good. He’s still beaming when you look up at him. 

“Goodnight, Jay,” you whisper, reflexively, not because you want him to go. 

“Goodnight, baby,” he whispers back, and his voice is so soft, so fond, your heart flutters like it’s grown wings. 

It doesn’t help that hearing that word from him is driving you crazy, making you dizzy—like it’s a key to a door you didn’t realise was locked. All this time, you’ve been holding your breath, suffering quietly under the weight of your feelings for him. Being here now with him, like this, you feel like you can finally breathe—like you’re safe here, with Jay.

You want to kiss him, need to. Not so much a thought as it is a pull, a magnetic force tugging your gaze to his lips and you can’t look away, wondering what they’d feel like, willing him to be the one to let you find out.

“I really want to kiss you,” he says suddenly, following the script in your head perfectly, lips so close to yours that the words spill out onto your skin, so close it’s like you’re the one who said it. “Can I do that? Please?” 

There’s something — to you — so surreal, so dreamlike about this situation that you’re overwhelmed by your distance from the realm of things you thought possible even thirty minutes ago. In your chest, your heart trips over itself, your body betraying you with its need. You nod belatedly, not trusting yourself to speak. Before you can even take a breath, his lips touch yours, soft, tentative at first, each brush of his lips against yours sweeter than the last, tender in a way you wish you could bottle up and keep forever. But then, something shifts, his grip on your waist tightening, the kiss deepening, his tongue on yours, and suddenly everything clicks into place—a kiss that feels more like an unravelling than a beginning. Your stomach is doing flips, and Jay is laughing into the kiss — joy incarnate — happy breaths passed from him to you, making you giggle as well. Of course, Jay would kiss you like this, all giddy and earnest.

When he pulls away, he lets his forehead rest against yours and pecks your lips—seeming relieved like this is exactly where he’s supposed to be. You’re breathless, but you don’t let him get too far, chasing after his kisses, even when he smiles. With his lips on yours, Jay’s having second thoughts, mumbling, “I guess I could stay for a little while.” The words slip from his mouth straight into yours as he steps inside. 

Finally. 

You only separate out of necessity to lock the door behind you, kicking your shoes off while you’re at it, but he’s still there — hands glued to your waist like it’s where they’re meant to be, where they belong — waiting for your attention again. You aim for the hook, but the keys miss it, hitting the floor with a soft clatter, forgotten about. They aren’t important to you, not now. And neither is the way you’re tripping over your feet trying to lead him through your apartment—how could it be when his face is in your hands, when his lips are on yours and you don’t want to part again even for a second? 

The same can’t be said for Jay who doesn’t miss a beat, grip tightening on your waist, lifting you before your feet even register leaving the ground, and you wrap your legs around him without a second thought. He feels his way through the hall, free hand thudding against the walls and the edges of things, the sound making you laugh into the kiss—drunk on the moment, on him, until the bed catches him with you in his lap. 

You can feel him underneath you, hard, throbbing, through his sweatpants, you can’t resist grinding down on him, a sigh passing from your mouth into his. You want so desperately to sleep with him. His fingers dig into your hips—a low groan when you rut against him again. It’s a personal offence when he pulls away to catch his breath, but when you open your eyes and see the state of him, you quickly forget why. Kiss-plump lips all red and glossy with saliva, head tipped back, brown eyes blinking heavily, dark with lust. 

The accumulation of weeks passed, quietly longing, wanting this exact thing, manifests itself in burning impatience. Unbridled want clenching around your stomach, urging your hips back and forth before you can think twice about it. His face, gorgeous as ever, twists with pleasure. A scrunch along the straight bridge of his nose, eyes screwed shut, lips parting, a breathy grunt punched out of him as his hips buck up against you. Now that you’ve seen that face, been the reason for that face, you can’t get enough. Your hand slips under his shirt, his stomach firm under your palm, trembling as a shudder racks through him. The hair under his belly button soft under your fingers, leading you all the way to his waistband. His lidded eyes are stuck on your hands, lips wet, tempting. You tell him you want to touch him, asking if you can. He nods slowly, moving his lips to mumble the word, please. Your hand disappears under his sweats, his underwear, and he pulls air through his teeth, quickly expelling it in a jagged sigh. He is hot and thick in your palm, so.. big, it doesn’t even feel real, him or the moment—to hold him like this, have him under you like this, sharp breaths tugged out of him as you stroke him, slow, experimental almost. His tip is slick with precum, your thumb slipping over it, over his slit right as he grabs your wrist to stop you. 

Nervous, not wanting to go too far, you ask, “You don’t want it?” 

Jay lifts his head, looking at you like you’re crazy, his eyes wide, brows raised. “Of course, I want it,” he says after a beat, slow like he’s trying to convince himself, or trying to convince you, though he tightens his grip when you move your thumb again, a groan coming out of him. “Just..” He trails off, heavy breaths pulling his chest in and out against yours. “Do you trust me?” he asks. 

You hum in response, nodding your head. 

“I told you I’d look after you, right? Told you I’d focus on you..” Jay leans in when you nod, his lips finding the base of your neck. One kiss. Another. A beat. A whisper, breath fanning your ear. “You trust me to do that? Going to be good and let me do that?” 

There’s not enough time to process how that makes you feel. Fire in your stomach. Ache in your core. Throbbing heat between your thighs. You nod. He smiles. Turns you over, your back to the mattress, head on your plushies as he watches, eyes dark and all over you. His hand finds your waist, lips finding yours. Slow. Soft. His fingers reach your waistband, stroking the skin there, touch so light you can barely feel it. He asks if this is okay. You nod, it’s more than okay, and you nod again when he asks if he can take your shorts off. 

You miss him as soon as he leaves your side, moving towards the end of the bed. “Up, baby,” he mumbles, and yet again, you nod like you’re in a trance — maybe you are — as you lift your hips off the bed. 

Jay takes his time easing your shorts down your legs, unhurried, relaxed, like he has all the time in the world—you hope he does. His eyes don’t leave the spot between your legs, stuck on your underwear. He doesn’t even look away when he folds up your shorts, leaving them neatly on the end of the bed. Your legs part for him unthinkingly, and he grins, an amused breath coming from his nose. He leans forward, so close you can feel his breath through the thin fabric of your underwear, the only real barrier between you and his mouth. His lips press a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, a breath slips out of you, one you didn’t know you were holding. 

His tongue darts over his lips, wetting them, fingers coming up to touch the red lace. “I like these,” he says, running his thumb along the hem. 

“You caught me on a good day,” you say, breathless. “Don’t get used to it.” 

He shakes his head, looking up at you — an unbelievably tender softness in his eyes — before straightening up and crawling back up the bed towards you. “You didn’t let me finish,” he mumbles, lips on your cheek, hand on your waist. “Yeah, I like them, but I like the girl wearing them way more.”

Overwhelming heat floods your cheeks, and Jay smiles into your skin. He tips your chin up towards his face, lips catching yours in a slow kiss, charged with lust and all of the things you can’t get yourselves to say, His tongue sweeps yours, hungry, carnal, enough to distract you from the movement of his hand slipping between your thighs and pushing your underwear aside. Relief washes over you and he hasn’t even done anything yet. A beat passes and Jay’s thumb finds your clit, rubbing it in maddening circles, drawing a breath out of you. Both of you sigh, relieved, when his finger slips into you, your walls clenching around him, pulling him in. 

You whisper his name, clutching his forearm, and an audible smile spreads over his lips, eyes finding yours as he says, “Yeah, baby?” 

Another finger, pushing in as easy as the first, pries a moan out of you. You can’t help but give in to him so easily, and if he wasn’t looking at you the way he is, you might feel a little embarrassed about it. But there he is, your Jay, straight teeth digging into his plush bottom lip, staring down at you like you’re the only thing that matters. His attention unwavering, completely yours, desire written all over his face and all because of you—just the thought is enough to make you shiver under his touch. 

An exhale, jagged, torn out when his thumb meets your clit again, circling it, slow but not teasing. Gentle. Intentional. His touch is so light it feels imagined, fingertips just grazing the spot you need him the most. 

“Good, baby? You like that?” he asks when you moan. 

You can’t respond, can’t say anything but his name as he eases a third finger into you, a sweet stretch that makes you curse. His thick fingers pump in and out of you, a lewd sound filling the room as his thumb slips over your clit, movement sloppier than before but better, much better. It’s only now that you notice the knot in your stomach, the flame burning away at you from the inside out. White-hot. Blinding. He keeps a steady pace, fingers curling in a rhythm that makes your back arch and thighs clamp around his wrist. 

A cry. A desperate whine. An obscene moan when you come, making a mess of yourself and his hand. Heat scalds you from all angles, coating your skin. Jay kisses the shell of your ear, cooing and praising you under his breath as you shake against him. As sweet as he’s being, he doesn’t give you any time to catch your breath, to process—he doesn’t stop. Not when your toes curl against the duvet, or your hips buck up against his palm, not when your nails sink into his forearm. His thumb stays on your clit, fingers still filling you to the knuckle, drawing out your high for as long as he can until you come again—another shuddering orgasm hitting you quicker than the last. 

“My pretty girl,” Jay whispers, cradling you in his arms, and kissing the top of your head. “I’ve got you, baby, I’m here.” 

You let yourself sink into his hold, catching your breath, liking the steady beat of his heart against your back. His scent and the warmth of his body — his presence — wrap around you like a promise, grounding, safe. Your eyes flutter shut, a soft, happy sigh slipping out of you, liking the way your heart races when he’s around.

Later, you brush your teeth in the bathroom while Jay waits on your bed. The bristles of your toothbrush are soft, but the pressure in your chest is hard, stubborn. Giggles erupt out of you, muffled by toothpaste foam, and you can’t stop looking at your reflection, obsessed with how different you look—a completely flustered being staring back at you, glowing so bright it hurts your eyes.

When you get back to your room, you find him with your Hello Kitty plushie in hand, freezing mid-movement like a caught criminal. His eyes meet yours after a moment, a small, guilty smile twitching at his lips as he lowers the plushie towards your desk, where the rest of your collection now sits in a soft, colourful row. You freeze for a moment, watching him, warmth tugging at the corners of your heart. You’d never thought much of it before, thinking of all the guys who’d shoved them aside—pushing them onto the floor like they were an afterthought. You never saw it as rude, just guys being guys, a little careless, a little indifferent. But seeing Jay now — his soft, deliberate way — placing each one with care like it’s something important, pulls at your heart. 

“Jay,” you say, a light chuckle following. “You didn’t have to do that,” you tell him, touched like he’s put in some grand effort to move all seven of your stuffed toys from the bed to your desk. 

He catches your eye, chuckling too, a sheepish grin when he says, “You know I wouldn’t just put them on the floor, right?” His voice is low, amusement clear in his tone as if he’s letting you in on some unspoken tenet of human decency. “I’m not a supervillain, YN.” The way he says it, with the slightest hesitation, the faintest shadow of nerves darting across his features makes something inside you soften. He scratches at the back of his neck, an unintentional gesture, his rare awkwardness threading between the space of your laughter. “Besides, you were going to do it anyway..” His voice trails off, suddenly seeming unsure. You pull him into a hug, his body relaxing into your touch as you lean up to kiss him and mumble your thanks against his lips. Jay smiles, the two of you still connected at the mouth. “It’s okay, baby,” he says. “It’s no big deal.” 

Deep down, a part of you knows he’s right. It’s not a big deal at all. But it feels like one for you.

You’re way more tired than you’d realised, so getting into bed is like a reward. The sheets are soft against your skin, still warm from where you’d been lying down earlier, and you sink into the mattress as the entire world shrinks to the size of your room, your bed. To the size of your boy, back from the bathroom, climbing in next to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek, his chest to your back. A short moment passes quietly, listening to the sounds of outside — distant cars, the faint rustle of trees — and Jay’s breath on the nape of your neck, soft, steady. 

“You really didn’t have to move my plushies,” you whisper, shifting to look at him even though it’s dark in your room. 

“I know,” he whispers back, soft and sleepy. “But you liked it.” 

The sound of your lips spreading into a smile breaks the silence that follows, and you press your eyes shut as his fingers rub little circles on your hip, his skin warm on yours in the space between the hem of your vest and the waistband of your shorts, a rhythm soothing enough to lull you to sleep. Jay says, of course, when you thank him belatedly, your heavy eyelids drooping as the heat from his body seeps into your skin, and then, as you’re drifting off, you feel it—the softest press of his lips against the top of your head. 

There’s no way to know how much time has passed when you blink your eyes open, and you’re not sure what woke you in the first place, but your room is cast in dim orange from the slowly rising sun outside. 

Sticky warmth wraps you up like a hug, near unbearable heat radiating from everywhere—your own body, Jay’s, the thick air pressing down on you. Too hot for cuddles if you’re honest, chances of overheating at an all-time high—your cheek stuck by sweat to his bare chest, his heart thudding dully against your ear. Even with the duvet bunched up at your feet, sweat forms relentlessly over your skin. 

You shift, slightly, careful not to wake him as you tilt your head back to look at him. Under your palm, you can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathes—and God, even in the syrupy heat of summer, he’s beautiful. Straight lashes, impossibly long, casting shadows over the swell of his cheeks. Neck glistening with sweat. Plump lips sitting in a subtle curve. Your heart beats faster just watching him, so hard and loud in your chest you wonder if he can hear it. His face scrunches, brow furrowing as if he can sense your eyes on him. You can’t look away, even though you should. His eyes flutter open, a slow, tired blink as his gaze lands on you, completely unguarded. Belatedly, you screw your eyes shut, faking sleep. He chuckles, soft and drowsy, but entertains you all the same, not saying anything until you open your eyes with an outstretched arm.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs groggily, voice deeper, thick with sleep as his lips graze your forehead on their way to your mouth in a sweet kiss. His hand rests on your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze. 

There go those butterflies again, feral. You smile against his lips. “Hi, baby.” 

Jay yawns, a long, lazy stretch of breath that he turns away from you as if the air between you is too fragile to interrupt. But then he’s back — thankfully — mouth brushing yours, soft like he’s shy about it, unthinkably tender. “So sleepy,” he mumbles.

His arm moves out from under you in an awkward, languid movement as he leans up on his elbow, body rolling towards you—the position is identical to hours before, and the realisation coats your cheeks with blazing heat. Jay doesn’t seem so affected. He’s looking down at you, eyes flickering over your whole face like he’s studying you, his fingers on your shoulder — gaze following closely — tracing the untanned skin where your bikini tops have been sitting, evidence of a summer spent outside. Your skin burns under his touch, his eyes darting up to meet yours. The strap of your vest slips down, and Jay pulls it back up with his pinky, ducking his head down to kiss you slowly, tender as ever. His lips find yours in a slow, deliberate press, a kiss that has more layers than it should. Pure affection laced with something deeper, not quite out of reach but just under the surface. 

For the second time, you wake up alone after spending the night with Jay.

The sheets are still warm, a whisper of him still lingering there, clinging to your skin. The silence is pervasive, pressing on your chest like a weight. But it’s okay, everything is okay. You tell yourself everything is okay, not to freak out. That Jay wouldn’t just leave. Not again. Not after last night and the softness of his voice when he said, of course, I like you. Couldn’t you tell? 

But then you hear it—nothing. No flushing toilet, no footsteps, not the sound of the shower starting up. Just the hollow quiet of the flat swallowing you whole. A sigh slips from your lips. This is okay. You are okay. Yeah, you’re good. Another sigh. You blink, once, twice. Nothing changes. At the end of the bed, your shorts are folded neatly, exactly as Jay left them, quiet, mocking somehow. You shake your head, you’re okay. He told you he liked you and you believed him, let him touch you.. There’s a pit in your stomach, but if you focus on the pounding of your heart in the back of your throat you can almost ignore it. You hide your face in the pillow, embarrassed, mortified. He’s left before, without warning or explanation, so maybe this is just who he is. Maybe you’re the problem after all, something bad always happens when you want more—you can’t believe you let Minjeong get in your head.

Then, the door opens, its soft creak jarring in the quiet. 

“Baby?” Jay’s voice is gentle, almost concerned. 

For a moment, you can’t bring yourself to look up. It’s all too much—the relief, the embarrassment. He didn’t leave. Of course, he didn’t. Your mind is stupid and cruel, betraying you like that. Slowly — cheeks hot, heart pounding — you peek over the edge of the pillow, the sweet scent of syrup hitting your nose. The sight of Jay lifts the weight in your chest, lets you breathe, truly breathe, finally, for the first time since waking up. His hair is ruffled, flat on his forehead. Still shirtless, sweatpants low on his hips. Something from a dream. Pancakes in one hand, a glass of water in the other. As if afraid you might disappear if he moves too quickly, he approaches with some hesitation. 

“What’s the matter?” His voice is gentle, enough to make your heart settle into a normal rhythm.

You choke on a small laugh, more out of self-deprecation than amusement. “I thought you left,” you admit, feeling ridiculous as you do—voice tiny to your own ears, small, childlike.

Jay frowns, setting the plate on the nightstand. He sits beside you, hand hovering over your back like he’s afraid to touch you. When he finally does, he’s gentle, careful, grounding. “I just went to make breakfast,” he says quietly, thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. “Why would I leave?”

“After last time..” You trail off, unsure how to put it.

A beat passes before he says your name, voice much quieter now. “I felt kind of stupid that night, thinking you felt the same as I did, that you just needed time or didn’t want to rush into anything, and then you called me your friend, and I just.. I don’t know. I shouldn’t have left, not like that.”

Taken aback by his openness, all you can do is blink. Words escape you, knowing you should say something, anything, but nothing comes. Jay watches you, eyes scanning your face, stopping on your forehead, staring, like he’s trying to see what’s in there. We’ve been so stupid, you think, almost wanting to laugh. 

He breaks the silence, apologising. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, meaning it. 

Jay shakes his head. “It’s not,” he says, voice firm but gentle, pulling you into his chest, his skin warm on your cheek as his chin rests on top of your head, fingers brushing your hair. “I fucked up—didn’t even realise how much that must’ve hurt you until now. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere, baby. Not now, not ever.” His words buzz against your scalp, sinking in fully as he says them, holding you like he’s trying to make sure you understand. 

The two of you stay like that for a while, your arms around his waist, enjoying the warmth of his skin on yours. Until your stomach growls, loud, insistent.

He laughs, low and soft, while you try to fight the flush on your cheeks and neck. Pulling back just a little, Jay grabs the plate, holding it out for you to take. And he lets go completely when you do, grabbing cutlery and an orange you hadn’t noticed. “Eat up, baby,” he says. 

You try to offer him a bite, but he shakes his head, still grinning. “I made them for you,” he insists, guiding the fork to your mouth instead, feeding you. You let him. 

The pancake is perfect, soft and sweet, drenched in just the right amount of syrup. “So good,” you mumble around it, sweetness lingering on your tongue. Suddenly, you’re relieved that Jay doesn’t want to share with you.

“Let’s at least share that,” you say after a beat, feeling nervous under his gaze, gesturing towards the orange sitting in his lap.

Jay nods, picking it up. The peel, vibrant, porous, splits under his fingernail, coming away easily in his palm. You watch as he splits the fruit in half, pulling the segments apart one at a time before holding one out to you, a soft smile on his lips as he does, watching you, waiting. Before you can take it from him, he lifts it to your mouth, eyes on yours, a slow nod like he’s giving you permission. 

You eat the fruit from his fingers, ignoring the stir in your stomach. His touch lingers a second longer than expected, a shiver running down your spine, heat scalding the surface of your skin. He lets his thumb graze your lip, and you can’t help but hold your breath for a beat, heart thudding louder in your chest. You think about the orange as you chew, trying not to focus on the look in Jay’s lidded eyes as he watches you. The way he licks his lips. It’s good—the orange. As vibrant and juicy as you expected, a little sour in the way you think the best oranges always are. 

“Quit looking at me like that,” you tell him, even though you like it. 

A laugh comes out of him, genuinely amused as he shakes his head. “No way, I’m allowed to now,” he says, grinning like he can’t believe it. “And you’re just so pretty, why wouldn’t I?”

“You’ve always been allowed to,” you point out, ignoring the last part of what he said, and the subsequent butterflies going wild in your stomach as a result of it.

Jay’s eyes soften, smile unchanging as he leans back on his elbows, finishing off his half of the orange. There’s something about the moment’s almost suffocating intimacy that makes you feel rather vulnerable, transparent—smudged glass he can see through anyway. It’s easier to look at the food than to meet his gaze, syrup pooling at the pancake’s edge like a moat, split orange segments, bright wedges on white ceramic. 

In the kitchen, Jay hums to himself while washing the dishes. The sound of water against ceramic fills the space, dishes being placed carefully in the drying rack but clinking against the metal all the same. You should ask him. You need to, need the security of a label. But you don’t. Instead, you lean against the counter behind him and watch—his back, his arms, the rhythm of his movement, how his muscles shift under his skin. It’s hypnotic. Quiet. Domestic. 

He turns when he’s done, drying his hands with a dish towel. “Hey, gorgeous,” he says when he sees you. That smile again, so easy, so handsome. “What’s on your mind?” 

You hesitate before wrapping your arms around him, pulling him in, pressing your face into his chest and inhaling the warmth of his skin. His arms loop over your shoulder, holding you close. You tip your chin towards him, lips catching his in a kiss. Slow and gentle, enough to quiet your worries. He’s not going anywhere. He wants this. Wants you. He means it and you can tell. 

And then, almost without thinking, you say it. “You’re like.. my little boyfriend, right?” 

Jay pulls back slightly, blinking, a cough as his grip on your waist loosens up. “I mean, yeah,” he says after a while, nodding. “Yeah, I am. I want to be.” 

There’s a moment of silence, both of you holding your breath. Waiting. Him for you to say something, tell him what you want; you for.. Well, you’re not entirely sure. 

“Not in love with your hesitation on that,” you admit, narrowing your eyes, mock-serious despite the flutter in your stomach.

He laughs, shaking his head. “I was just thinking the same thing, been wondering when I should ask you.” A kiss to your forehead, quick and sweet. “Guess you beat me to it.” 

“Mm.” You nod, lips pressed together but smiling nonetheless. “Guess I did.”

Jay hides his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm and steady against your skin. “Your boyfriend?” he asks, voice muffled, lips tracing the curve of your collarbone. There’s a slight tremor in his grip—like he needs reassurance too. When you nod, his fingers press into your waist as though he’s trying to make sure you’re really there, that the moment is real, that you are. 

“Yes,” he says, and you feel the words more than you hear them, spoken into your skin. “Of course.”

Your heart swells, the feeling of him against you blending into a heady warmth, sticky as the syrup down the drain, sweet as the orange you’d shared. Too much but not enough. Again, your lips find each other, drawn like magnets. A low groan escapes him when your fingers weave into his hair, tugging, the sound making you shudder as his hands find the curve of your ass resting there, grabbing. Kissing and kissing and kissing. Jay’s lips quirk up, smiling, he’s always smiling.  

Then, from the doorway, a thud. 

You flinch, breaking apart with racing hearts as you look over. Minjeong. Jaw dropped. Tote bag dumped by her feet. She’s looking between the two of you, eyebrows furrowed. Not quite surprised, but.. confused, you think. “Is this actually happening?” she asks. 

Hardly believing the situation yourself, you don’t respond. 

“I hope so,” Jay says, his smile audible.

Silence follows, and Minjeong steps further into the room, arms crossed, eyeing him like he’s the enemy. She points an accusatory finger at him, so close you can feel the warmth radiating from her. “Don’t mess this up. Don’t hurt her.”

He raises his brows, blinking like a scolded child. “I won’t,” he says, a smile creeping onto his lips. 

“I’m serious,” she continues, voice still firm but softening slightly. “You look after her, okay? I’ve spent a long time rooting for you, so don’t make me regret it.”

You stand there, mortified, hiding your face in Jay’s chest, as his hand rubs soothing circles on your back. “MJ, please,” you mumble into his skin. “I’m right here.”

“I know,” she replies. “That’s why I’m saying this.” 

Jay wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding you close and smiling at you when you resurface. “I’ll take care of her,” he says, gaze locked on yours, butterflies stirring in your stomach as he speaks. Lifting his head, he looks over at Minjeong. “I promise.” He extends his pinky finger and she looks at it like it’s offensive, scoffing. 

And with that, she turns on her heels and leaves the two of you alone in the kitchen. At the sound of Minjeong’s door closing down the hall, Jay lets out a breath, looking relieved in a way you hadn’t noticed he wasn’t. He looks down at you again, a sheepish smile on his face. “She’s a little scary,” he mumbles, hands finding your waist again, pinching. 

As if sensing your boyfriend’s terror, she texts you before you can console him, the notification’s ping! making him flinch.

Minjeong: SO HAPPY FOR YOU😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭don’t tell ur man but I wanted to hug you both so bad.. Needed to be scary bff for today but another time I swear 

Minjeong: JAYN FINALLYYYYYYYYYYYYY 🥳

You: I LOVE YOU

You: He saw my screen btw sorry pookie

You: I can’t stop smiling..

Minjeong: Loser. (same)

Minjeong: I love you more.

PDA has never mattered to you in the past, not in the way that some are against it, or others live for it—you’ve never cared one way or the other. If a partner took your hand while walking, you wouldn’t pull away, but you probably wouldn't be the one to initiate it either. Kissing in front of others was okay, but typically reserved for greetings, or something special, and only ever a peck unless you were drunk. But with Jay, you just can’t help yourself. You don’t have to think about reaching for him—it just happens. Fingers locking with his, your head on his shoulder, only realising when his thumb brushes the back of your hand, or his head rests on top of yours. When you’re together, it’s like the concept of personal space doesn’t exist between you.

Even after a week of hanging out almost every day, your friends still light up at the sight of you and Jay together, practically swooning whenever he pours a drink for you or kisses your temple. You won’t act like you don’t like the attention, even when it comes in the form of Donghyuck groaning at you, covering his eyes. Tonight, though, told off by Jaehyun and Yizhuo, he doesn’t say anything. Not even when Jay joins the four of you in the kitchen, greeting you with a kiss in front of them, hand slipping into your back pocket. And it stays there when you walk back into the living room, thumb grazing the top of your shorts, his touch soft, but sending shivers up your spine anyway. 

The group is sprawled around the room, the TV on though no one is watching, and from the dining table, Minjeong says aww when she sees you and Jay. Jeno offers a bright grin from the seat beside her, looking at you both like he’s watching something inevitable as he raises his glass of water in a silent toast. Jay pulls you into him when he sits on the couch, and the night spills out around you, cosy, comfortable. Lamps turned on as the sun sets outside, easy laughter cutting over the faint hum of the music, Jay’s chin on your shoulder, his arms around your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles on the fabric of your tank top—no hesitation when he lets his touch fall to your hip. 

Minjeong joins you on the couch, sinking into the cushions next to you. Her cheeks are flushed from drinking and the heat that sticks her hair to her cheeks and neck. She’s on the verge of sleep, blinking heavily, each one longer than the last. Still, she manages a smile, shaking her head when you tell her to go to bed. 

“It’s so nice seeing you like this, all affectionate,” she mumbles after a while. “It suits you.” 

You glance at Jay. His smile makes your heart race when he meets your gaze, soft and small like it’s something he’s keeping just for you. “Yeah,” you say quietly, turning back to Minjeong. “It does.” 

She nods, letting her head fall back against the couch. You watch as she finally succumbs to sleep after having fought so valiantly against it and can’t help but smile. Gently, you brush her hair from her face, thinking about how easy this all feels—this group, this night, this moment. Jay’s hand rests on your thigh, his touch steady and familiar.

Before leaving, your friends help you tidy up—a task you notice is much easier when you’re sober, finding yourself more efficient tonight than ever. Save for Jay and Jeno, everyone else is slowed by sleepiness and alcohol, shuffling around the flat while fumbling with empty pizza boxes and drink bottles. Your comfort in this routine, however, is unchanged — heightened, maybe — spending even the mundane moments of the night in each other’s company, still reluctant to leave when the flat is tidier than when they arrived.

Jay stands by your side in the doorway, arm slipping around your shoulders as you watch Jeno and Yizhuo walk down the corridor towards the stairwell, staying put until you hear the door slam shut behind them. The apartment feels bigger now that it’s just the two of you — and Minjeong, sleeping soundly in her room — again. While he watches, you lock the door, double-checking it right away before you head towards the bathroom together.

Side by side, you brush your teeth in a comfortable quiet, shoulders bumping, maddening heat spreading over your skin from the contact. While washing your face, you watch Jay unfasten his belt in the mirror, stuck on his hands as he does—and you flush, mortified when he catches your gaze in the glass, smiling. Your eyes are screwed shut when he gets into the shower cubicle, sliding the door shut behind him—you don’t open them again until long after the water starts running. For a moment, you think about joining him, asking if you can, but can’t get the words out as you pat your face dry with a towel. In your room, you put on your pyjamas and get into bed, listening to the soft murmur of the shower while you wait for him.

Freshly showered, shirt dark around his collar, Jay joins you at long last. He’s humming an old song as he stands in front of the mirror, a towel in his hand, scrunching it through his damp hair. You watch from the bed, eyes tracing the familiar shape of him, his reflection hazy in the dim light. There’s something soothing about watching him go through his routine, fingers working essence through his hair, smoothing it with a quiet concentration you love. It’s all so familiar already, a comfort you never knew you’d been lacking. 

Jay pulls his shirt over his head, and your breath catches in your throat. It’s a sight you’ve seen more times than you can count, but it still takes your breath away, Painted golden by the soft lamplight, his skin glows, honeyed and warm. His plaid pyjama pants hang low on his hips, the waistband of his underwear peeking out. He stretches his arms above his head, muscles shifting and flexing in his back, putting on a show—he must be. 

Not wanting to endure your separation any longer, you pat the spot beside you like he can see. “Come to bed.”

He turns, grinning, the sight of it forcing warmth to curl through your chest. “You sleepy, baby?” he asks, voice dipping low, smooth like velvet.

“Just missing you,” you admit, shaking your head—he makes it so easy to say things like that. 

His smile widens as he crosses the room, and you want him more with each step he takes towards you. Joining you in bed, he pulls you into him, wrapping you up in his arms and his scent, velvety and rich, warm and so Jay. He threads his fingers through your hair, a soft sigh slipping out of you as he kisses your temple. 

“I’m right here,” he says, lips moving on your skin. 

You’ve never felt so at ease. And you’ll never tire of kissing him, unable to resist—mouth on his before you even realise. He hums into the kiss, lips quirking up into a smile at your eagerness. His hand slips under your shirt, his palm on your lower back, holding you close. Whether he means to or not, hips buck against you, cock hard through his soft pants. Goosebumps crowd your skin at the feeling, a wave of desperation washing over you, so hot and all-consuming it pulls a moan from your chest. 

It’s not the first time you’ve been here with him — it’s not even the first time today — but the familiarity of the situation only heightens your anticipation, rather than stifling it. Your hands find his hair, fingers threading through the strands and pulling absentmindedly, a groan tugged out of him, the two of you pressed so close together you feel the hum of it buzz against you. Already, you’ve shared so many moments like this, kissing and touching until your breath turns ragged. Hands in underwear and heads between thighs—always so close but never quite going all the way. 

Jay’s lips leave yours, kissing along your jaw, wet and open-mouthed. Down your neck as your head tips back. Your collarbone, chest, right above your tank top before he stops, eyes fluttering open and locking on yours. The sight of him gives you pause, he’s unbearably pretty like this—looking up at you through long lashes, hair covering his forehead, parted lips swollen, red and glossy and perfect. 

“Can I?” he asks, fingers caught on the fabric, unmoving. 

You nod and he smiles sweetly, a warm look in his eyes that makes your heart race as his pinky hooks under the strap, pulling it down and letting it fall. The thin fabric is loose around your arm as it slips unceremoniously before resting. Nothing much has changed, at least where your level of decency is concerned, but he looks at your shoulder like it’s something special. Like you’re something special. For better or for worse, you don’t have time to dwell on this. He pulls the neckline down under your breasts, eyes blown and staring as if it’s his first time seeing you this way—bare-chested and wanting. A beat passes, unnerving before he leans in, his finger on your nipple as he presses a kiss to the spot below your ear, mumbling into your skin about how beautiful you are. At the compliment, at the pinch of his thumb and index finger on your nipple, the twist, a sigh slips out of you, equal parts relieved and turned on—this feeling only exaggerated when he lets his lips find your other breast, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin with his teeth. His teeth graze the bud, biting just a bit, barely enough to even feel, but your eyes screw shut anyway, thighs pressing together—forcing pressure where you need it, need him, the most.

It takes him a while to move on, kissing your stomach until he reaches your shorts and you lift your hips from the bed, desperate for him. He smiles and you can hear it, feel it on your skin as his fingers hook under your waistband, pulling your shorts and underwear down your legs. Your thighs part for him instinctively, his palms resting on your raised knees as he chuckles.

“You want it?” he asks, raising a brow. 

You nod, stuck in a daze, under his spell. 

Jay smiles, leaning in. His tongue finds your slit, licking slow, agonisingly slow until he reaches your clit. You gasp, toes curling from the contact as he groans against you, fingers threading through his soft hair. A wave of pleasure rushes over you at once, a desperate whine tumbling out of you when he catches your clit between his lips, sucking, grazing it with the tip of his tongue, humming around it. He’s enjoying it as much as you, revelling in the way you respond to him, every moan of his name and tug of his hair spurring him on. 

You never last long with Jay, and tonight is no exception. Your back arches off the bed as he pushes his finger into you, working you open on his knuckles while his tongue swirls over your clit—eating you out like he worships you. It’s all too much all at once, almost unbearable. He only pushes his face further into you, fingers hitting your spot over and over as you come undone. 

Pleased with himself, Jay sits up straight once you’ve calmed down, thumb stroking the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. His eyes are lidded, stuck on your clit like he needs more. His chin and plump lips are glowing, shining golden under the lamplight. He’s catching his breath, chest heaving, pretty face flushed. All while you watch, chewing on your bottom lip as he brings his right hand to his mouth, groaning around his fingers when he sucks on them. 

He blinks his eyes open slowly, gaze flicking up to yours, needy. “So good, baby, always tastes so good,” he says.

For some reason, the words leave you flustered, hiding your face with your hands, suddenly shy as if you haven’t begged him to come on your face after sucking him off. As if you haven’t just had his head between your legs. 

“Sweet girl,” he coos, a soft smile on his face as he crawls up the bed towards you. His torso over yours, hips dipping between your thighs. “You’re not shy, baby, I know you’re not shy. In fact, I think you like it when I talk like that, huh?”

Not trusting the steadiness of your voice, you shake your head. 

“No?” Jay sounds surprised but you know he doesn’t buy it. “You don’t like hearing how much I love those pictures you’re always sending me? That video?” 

Your cheeks burn as he moves your hands, smiling down at you and pressing a peck to your lips. When he pulls away, his dark eyes search yours, waiting for an answer. Too embarrassed to admit how much his compliments affect you — even though he seems to know — you mumble, “I like it a normal amount.”

“Yeah?” He raises a brow.

You nod. “Yeah.”

His cock throbs through his pants, the only thing separating you as his lips find yours—heat pooling in your stomach at the taste of yourself on his tongue. Jay grinds against you, the friction sweet, almost too much for how sensitive you are, making a mess on his pants that he doesn’t seem to care about. You can’t stop moaning, passing them from your mouth into his, choked out sobs slipping out of you until you can’t take it anymore. He whines into the kiss, the sound so hot you can hardly breathe. Hardly think to move your lips properly against his, teeth bumping a little, messy in the best way. 

“Please,” you manage, somehow. “Need you.” 

“Are you sure?” he asks, leaning back. Jay’s gaze meets yours, dark with want, lidded. Scanning your face, tracing every feature before meeting your eyes again. 

Beyond desperate, your hips buck up against his. “Please, Jay,” you repeat, watching as he gets up without a word. 

Jay’s standing by the bed, chest heaving as he pulls his pants down. Your stomach flips at the sight of the wet spot darkening his grey underwear, his cock hard and thick against the fabric, an outline you can’t look away from. He pulls his underwear off too, cock smacking his toned stomach with a wet sound, tip red, glossy, a shiny streak left in its wake as he wraps his palm around it. You couldn’t look away if you tried. He likes the attention though. He must. It’s obvious in the way he strokes himself, lets his thumb swipe his slit, spreading his precum. Brows knitting together, jaw slack, ragged breaths tugged out of his chest as his eyes trail over your body, gaze so focused it makes your cheeks burn. 

Chewing on your lip, you manage to tear your eyes away from him — with much effort — reaching for your bedside table to get a condom out. Jay steps towards you, holding his free hand to take it from you, but you shake your head, and he raises a brow, tilts his head. 

His hand cups your chin, tipping your head up to look at him. “No?” 

“I want to put it on for you,” you mumble, eyes on his. 

His eyes widen for a split second, a hum coming out of him as he nods, tracing your lips with his thumb as he says, “Go ahead, princess. Whatever you want.” 

Ignoring the butterflies in your stomach at the pet name, you look down at your hands to tear the foil and take the condom out. Pinching the condom and rolling it down on him, you do your best not to think about the feeling of his cock in your fist, because you’ll be here all day if you don’t move on—doing your best not to think about the sigh he lets out under your touch, or the way he mutters good girl, under his breath. 

In a moment, you’re lying on your back again, Jay over you as his eyes search into yours.

“Now, Jay. Please,” you whisper, about one more second away from begging.

Jay nods, ducking down to press a kiss to your cheek as his hand reaches for his cock, letting it glide over your slit—the feeling making him gasp. Anticipating courses through you, sweat beading on your skin’s surface, a sigh when he pushes in, finally. That sting, that stretch—your body trying to accommodate him. You have to tell yourself to relax, remind yourself to breathe through the thud of your heart beating in your ears.

“All good?” he asks, voice strained, breathy. 

You nod, barely. “Uh huh.” 

He keeps pushing, slow as he can, one inch at a time, filling you up and up and up until he bottoms out. Aching heat pulses between your legs, right where you connect, so full you can’t believe it. You can barely breathe. Jay lets out a sigh, a harsh breath, hot on your skin as his head falls forward, his nose in the crook of your neck. 

“So full,” you whisper. 

“Yeah, baby,” he mumbles. A kiss to your shoulder. “I’m sorry.” 

“Feels good,” you tell him on a shaky breath. “Just.. a lot.” 

Jay chuckles at that, light and airy against your neck. “So perfect,” he says. “My perfect girl.” 

His perfect girl. The sound of his voice, the feeling of his words on your skin, of him closer than ever makes you clench around him, forcing a muffled moan out of him and into your collarbone. A beat passes like this. Slow. Adjusting. Until, finally, Jay leans up on his palms, pulling his hips back as far as he can without slipping out. You hate the emptiness as soon as you feel it, but slowly, again, he thrusts into you, filling you up, fucking you open. 

His eyes find yours, hand pushing hair from your face, resting on your cheek, thumb stroking your skin. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, keeping him there. You have never been so full or so in love in your life. You want to tell him, need to, but you can’t get the words out, can’t say anything. So, you kiss his palm instead, hoping he’ll understand. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, his eyes boring into yours. 

You nod. You’re okay, you’ve never been better. The words are stuck in your throat. I love you, Jay. So much. I love you so much. You can’t speak. You can hardly breathe. You nod again, you’ve never been better. 

“You feel so good, baby, so right,” he whispers. “Made just for me.” 

Racing heart. Fluttering stomach. “Just for you,” you tell him. You mean it.

Jay smiles, lips brushing yours, a moan from your mouth to his when he moves. Slow. Gentle. Tender. Mumbled praises, soft whimpers, trembling breaths. His lips on your cheek, your neck—sucking the skin at the base, leaving a mark probably. A few. Your breath hitches, caught in your throat, as he rocks his hips against yours. He’s settled into a rhythm, steady enough now for his tip to brush that perfect spot, right where you need him, with each thrust.

“There,” you moan, eyes falling shut. “Fuck, Jay.”

Something shifts in him when you say that, his thrusts getting quicker, needier—so deep it doesn’t feel real. He’s moaning, your name slipping from his lips without constraint. His eyes are dewy, lips kiss-bitten, wet, red, parted just a touch, his sweat-damp hair clinging to his skin. Seeing him like this and knowing it’s because of you, that he wants you just as much as you want him only makes it that much better, that much more overwhelming. His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing it in circles and sending your mind into a spiral until you’re nothing more than a whiny mess underneath him.

Jay leans towards your ear, his lips grazing its shell. “Want to see you make a mess, baby. Don’t hold back,” he says, his voice deep, the words hot against your skin. 

Something about the depth of his voice, the heat of his words against your skin makes a flame burn blue in your stomach. It curls over you, engulfing you, heat and pleasure filling you up, expanding so much you can feel it in every corner of your body as you come undone around him, unravelling completely. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “My pretty baby.”

You don’t have it in you to reply, you can’t. Not when Jay keeps going, his palm pressing on your stomach as he fucks into you, the sound, noisy and wet, fills the room. His thrusts lose their rhythm, slowing down a little, sporadic as his head falls into the crook of your neck, his moans muffled by your skin.

It takes a while for the two of you to come to, Jay only pulling out once he’s settled down, rolling over and pulling you into his chest. The feeling of his slick skin against yours should be uncomfortable in this heat but it’s exactly what you need, his palm stroking your back as he whispers into your hair. There’s something so tender about the moment that you feel your heart swell against your ribcage, beating a mile a minute. 

Jay wipes you clean with his t-shirt before carrying you off to the bathroom. You don’t have it in you to protest, completely spent, eyelids heavy, yawns impossible to suppress as he sets you on your feet in the shower. Steam curls quickly around the cubicle, and being here with Jay makes you acutely aware of every single inch of your body, and the feeling of his fingers all over it. The water slips over you in soft rivulets, the warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. Jay reaches for the soap, gently lathering your shoulders, his hand brushing yours as your eyes fall shut, leaning against him. 

The night air clings to your skin as you lie back in bed, warmth still heavy in your room despite the distant hum of the fan, and the open window. Jay watches you, eyes fixed in a way that makes your heart skip, and you can’t help but laugh softly.

“What is it?” you ask, the word more breath than sound. 

He shrugs, the smallest lift of his shoulder, as if he’s embarrassed by the simplicity of it. “Nothing,” he says, voice soft, eyes unwavering. “I just love you.” 

It’s blurted out, like it slipped past his defenses before he could catch it. An accident, he seems to think—he immediately turns his head, face hidden in the pillow. But you can see the flush blooming on the tips of his ears, the back of his neck turning a deep, warm pink. Vulnerable. Exposed. 

For a moment, you’re stunned, the words hanging in the air between you—fragile and precious. There’s no stopping the warmth blooming in your chest, spreading like sunlight through your veins until it reaches every part of you. A tickly flutter disrupts your stomach, butterflies going mad at the thought, the knowledge—he loves you. Said it like it was the most natural thing in the world to say, like it’d been on his mind for a while, sitting on the tip of his tongue waiting for the perfect moment. You can’t help the grin that splits over your lips, too wide to contain. Reaching out, you let your fingers card through his soft hair, touch as gentle as you can manage. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” you whisper, voice soft but sure. “I love you too.”

Slowly, Jay lifts his face from the pillow, eyes wide, almost disbelieving. A pretty flush dusts his cheekbones, eyes locking onto yours, excitement flickering behind them like a fire’s first spark, making your heart race. His lips part to speak, moving soundlessly for a beat before he gives you a butterfly-inducing, knee-weakening grin, a breathy laugh slipping out of him. He pulls you closer, hands cradling your face like you’re something special, something he can’t quite believe is real. The thought makes your pulse trip over itself. Jay’s lips are soft against your, slow, gentle, kissing you like you have all the time in the world to do it.

With time, the novelty of your and Jay’s relationship has worn off amongst your friends. Gone are the gasps when you kiss Jay’s cheek, and the awws (and singular gag from Donghyuck) when either of you does anything in the other’s general vicinity. So no one says anything when you reach Jimin’s place, hand in hand as you join the group in the backyard, or when you lay in a lounge chair and Jay leaves the boys to join you, laying on top of you, with his head on your chest while you’re talking to Minjeong and Yizhuo—neither girl missing a beat, continuing the conversation like nothing happened. 

For you however, every brush of Jay’s lips on your skin, every smile sent your way from across the room, just the feeling of his eyes on you — so soft and so fond and so full of love — is still enough to make you and the butterflies in your stomach giddy. And you suspect it always will be.

There are a few things you separate for, like going to the bathroom, helping Jimin put food in the oven, and getting into the pool for a game of chicken while Jay stays behind, cheering for you and Jaehyun from the grass with Jeno and Jake. But when it’s all said and done, time and time again, you find yourselves gravitating back to one another, and you end up leading Aeri over to him while drying your hair after the game.

The two of you lay undisturbed at the back of the garden, only a fleecy blanket separating your skin from the dry grass. In Jay’s company, everything else — the music, the sounds of your friends — falls away, lost to the world outside your bubble. And like they’ve been since that night in your room, his hands are on you, smoothing sunscreen over your shoulders with as much care as a sculptor.

“There,” he murmurs, voice thick with satisfaction as though he’s created a masterpiece, not just protected you from the climbing UV index. His hands linger, then drag lazily down your back as you let out a laugh through your nose. You don’t tell him to stop, you don’t want him to, loving the security you feel under his touch, how it always feels like a claim—the thought sends a rush of warmth through you, a quiet thrill humming beneath your skin.

Much to Donghyuck’s loud disgust, Jay feeds you a bite of his pizza at the garden table. He rolls his eyes, slumping in his seat across from the two of you. “Somehow, I liked you two more when you were pretending not to know your feelings were mutual.” He makes a big show of putting his cup down on the table while you laugh at him. “And you were really annoying back then.” 

“Back then? That was only three weeks ago..” Jaehyun says, playing with the tab on his Guinness. 

Donghyuck is incredulous, saucer-eyed as he whips his head in Jaehyun’s direction. “Three weeks?!” he repeats, horror covering his face as Jaheyun nods. “Feels like a lifetime,” he mutters, shaking his head. 

Against your back, Jay’s chest vibrates with laughter, warm and healing on your skin. His head falls forward, hair tickling your shoulder. Fidgeting with your necklace you get lost in your thoughts, hardly believing either that you and Jay have only been together for three weeks—have only really known each other for a few months. Those months gone like seconds, everything changing right before your eyes. It’s already the end of August and the end of summer is right at your fingertips if you stretch enough—all while things have only just begun with you and Jay. 

Bellies full, a cider in his hand and yours in the other, you retreat to the blanket, to your bubble. There you lie together under the sun, talking, playing with his hair, and stealing kisses. Again, the world blurs at the edges, conversations falling away, unnoticed by either of you. Only as the sun goes down and the night air turns cool, do you take note of the shift—the party suddenly swelling around you, more people arriving, laughter rising. You put your skirt back on, steal Jay’s button-up, and see Mark and Jaemin sitting on the garden swing together, beaming at each other as Kim Chaewon takes a seat between them.

Next to you, Jay can’t take his eyes off of you, grinning like always. A flutter in your stomach. Like always. 

“You know,” you say, half-joking. “A picture would last longer.”

He shakes his head like he’s scolding himself internally. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he asks sincerely, pulling his phone from his pocket before you can say anything else. Jay’s smile deepens as snaps a few photos, looking at you when he’s done like you’re something he wants to keep forever. 

With wobbly knees and a racing heart, you go to button up his shirt, but he gives you a look—one that stops you mid-motion, that says more than words could ever manage, so you leave it open. The sleeves are much too long, hanging well past your hands. He rolls them up for you, his fingers quick, warm, efficient. 

“You look ridiculous,” he teases, but the warmth in his voice betrays him, his grin finally faltering when you remind him that the shirt’s too big for him too. 

Pleased with his work, both sleeves rolled to your elbows, his hands are on your waist — hot and deliberate — and his lips are on yours. Soft and lingering, not caring for the steadily growing crowd in Jimin’s garden or if any of them see. Even as the night urges on, those hands, that touch, don’t leave you. Chin on your shoulder while you pour a drink in the kitchen. Fingers twirling around the strings of your bikini bottoms while you close the lemonade. Lips on yours before you have a chance to take a sip—cool Malibu and lemonade running down your arm, wetting your sleeve. 

Through the window above the sink, your friends are around the garden table, sitting on laps and sharing drinks, laughing mouths wide open, an empty seat next to the fence waiting for you and Jay to join them. Everyone’s smiling when you do, Jay sitting first and pulling you into his lap, arms around you. His hand slips to your thigh, fixing your skirt, thumb moving in lazy circles on your skin. Minjeong catches your eye, a knowing smile on her lips as she squeezes your knee—a perfect moment. A perfect summer. 

Hours later — when everyone’s gone home, and the only proof tonight even happened is your damp bikini on Jay’s doorknob, still smelling vaguely of chlorine, and a text to Minjeong, saying you and Jay got home okay, knowing she’ll tease you later about calling his place home — you get into bed with him, a smile on your face, and the certainty of two things: he’ll be here in the morning, and so will the sun, rising as always, like it tends to do. 

© zreamy (2024), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let me know your thoughts !

permanent taglist: @asahicore @ikeublr @loverseon

join my taglist here!

[dazedhee]

my all-time favorite enhypen fics from my favorite ao3 authors <3

── ᡣ𐭩 ── ᡣ𐭩 ── ᡣ𐭩 ── ᡣ𐭩 ── ᡣ𐭩 ── ᡣ𐭩

[disclaimer: all of these fics are mxm AND contain 18+ content! mdni!]

── ᡣ𐭩 ── ᡣ𐭩 ── ᡣ𐭩 ── ᡣ𐭩 ── ᡣ𐭩 ── ᡣ𐭩

author - malamyszk

fav works: oh, is it love? (heejake), but no one’s supposed to, they just want to (heejake), what the water gave us (heejake), all i want for christmas (is you, tree farm guy) (heejake), a haunting (and now you’re mine) (heejake), july flame (can i call you mine) (heejake)

author - pinkfire

fav works: mixed up (heejake), have to pay (heejake), like the boys (heejake), like a prayer (heejake), this kind of love is getting expensive (heesun)

author - devianthee

fav works: at the alter of desire (heejayke), he my best friend, yeah we not a couple (jayke), 1-800-want u (jakehoon)

author - darlingriki

fav works: anything but mine (sunsun), you were never mine (but do you remember?) (sunsun)

author - ponyohoon

fav works: that’s how the light gets in (heejake), sink or swim (jakehoon), i’ll be like one of your girls (or your homies) (heejake)

── ᡣ𐭩 ── ᡣ𐭩 ── ᡣ𐭩 ── ᡣ𐭩 ── ᡣ𐭩 ── ᡣ𐭩

i hope all of these links are correct & work for you guys!! let me know if you want a post dedicated to my fav enha fics by anonymous authors since i didn’t include them in this one :) make sure you view the tags before reading the fic as some may contain triggering content!

[dazedhee]

✮ my favorite ao3 enhypen fics ✮

|| updated 08.14.25 ||

*disclaimer: all of these fics are mxm & contain smut (mdni!!!)

˗ˏˋ heeseung + jake ˎˊ‐

✮ - oh, is it love? by malamyszk

✮ - like a prayer by achoome & pinkfire

✮ - all i want for christmas (is you, tree farm guy) by malamyszk

✮ - mixed up by pinkfire

✮ - a haunting (and now you’re mine) by malamyszk

✮ - but no one’s supposed to, they just want to by malamyszk

✮ - what the water gave us by malamyszk

✮ - like there’s no one other than you (and our kids) by malamyszk

✮ - you’re the warmth in my chest (let’s light a fire) by mooniik

✮ - that’s how the light gets in by ponyohoon

✮ - have to pay by pinkfire

✮ - i’ll be like one of your girls (or your homies) by ponyohoon

✮ - curiosity killed the… dog by pinkfire

✮ - surfacing by enhasjaeyun

✮ - july flame (can i call you mine) by malamyszk

✮ - burn my life (i see only you) by pinkfire

✮ - distraction by mxkkiiz

˗ˏˋ heeseung + jay ˎˊ‐

✮ - primus inter pares by justlookagain

✮ - can’t control my body by geminicat

✮ - always home by amoreyen

✮ - the virtruvian man by yvth

˗ˏˋ jay + jake ˎˊ‐

✮ - he my best friend, yeah we not a couple by devianthee

✮ - we got seven seconds left in heaven (then it’s back to life) by devianthee (pt. 2 of he my best friend, yeah we not a couple)

✮ - one more time by orphan_account

✮ - tricked my treat by midge03

✮ - nirvana in different skin by celestefics

✮ - good for you (series) by wwisteria

✮ - open up your soul a little more, flood it by worldstar

✮ - cherry bomb (feel it, yum) by kobuchi

˗ˏˋ jay + sunghoon ˎˊ‐

✮ - head shot-drank by scarletsunbeams

✮ - cotton, kfc and a mother’s sickly love by midge03

✮ - from the top (to the bottom, what is this?) by midge03

✮ - insouciance by etudeism

✮ - kiss it better by anonymous

✮ - leave it like an unmade bed (keep it messy) by ponyohoon

˗ˏˋ jake + sunghoon ˎˊ‐

✮ - all was golden in the sky (when the day met the night) by anonymous

✮ - all day (burn me) by anonymous

✮ - littering is butch (no not really) by midge03

✮ - it’s just a “bro” thing by anonymous

✮ - footsteps by nicoismysenpai

✮ - sink or swim by ponyohoon

✮ - 1-800-want u by devianthee

✮ - long haul by untilitbreaks

˗ˏˋ heeseung + sunghoon ˎˊ‐

✮ - winter eventually gives way to spring by 2lips

˗ˏˋ sunghoon + sunoo ˎˊ‐

✮ - anything but mine (1/2) & you were never mine (but do you remember?) (2/2) by darlingriki

✮ - fever by reesablue

✮ - love the way you wear that by eatcereal

✮ - want you (to want me too) by collectingseaglass

✮ - i wanna be in the sequel by merodies

✮ - can’t leave you alone by misocarmine

✮ - fit to love by artemisfics

˗ˏˋ heeseung + sunoo ˎˊ‐

✮ - eat me softly by gemxblossom

✮ - this kind of love is getting expensive by pinkfire

✮ - yours for the weekend by anonymous

✮ - you said, “ain’t this just like the present, to be showing up like this?” by darlingriki

✮ - gumiho by gemxblossom

˗ˏˋ jay + jungwon ˎˊ‐

✮ - summer by ivytkoo

˗ˏˋ sunoo + jungwon ˎˊ‐

✮ - curve your little spine (i’ll make your secrets mine) by devianthee

˗ˏˋ sunoo + hyung line ˎˊ‐

✮ - bad behavior (one-shot series) by sunoosphere

˗ˏˋ jay + jake + sunghoon (mxmxm) ˎˊ‐

✮ - use me, defuse me by devianthee

✮ - just between you & i by enhasjaeyun

✮ - adventures in shame by myathewolfeh

✮ - fifth wheeling by wwisteria

✮ - pass your boy the heatwave by devianthee

˗ˏˋ heeseung + jake + sunghoon (mxmxm) ˎˊ‐

✮ - fresh paint job, check! by worldstar

˗ˏˋ jay + sunghoon + jungwon (mxmxm) ˎˊ‐

✮ - be and end-all by veegirl

˗ˏˋ heeseung + everyone (minus ni-ki) ˎˊ‐

✮ - gameboy by devianthee

˗ˏˋ jake + everyone (minus ni-ki) ˎˊ‐

✮ - into your heat again i’m diving by darlplusing

*note: as you can tell, i’m a heejake enthusiast and heavy heejake reader LMAO also malamyszk is the BEST heejake writer in the entire world so please show their works some love!! let me know if all the links are matched up correctly, this took me a while to do so there may be some mistakes. i’m not sure if you need an ao3 account to access these, but the link should bring you right to the fic!*