mwah

STEP ONE: Introductions by identity theft   

Park Sunghoon prides himself on being calm and composed. 

At least that’s what he tells himself, if you generously take out the part where he’s clumsy, socially catastrophic, and possesses the spatial awareness of a newborn puppy on ice. To the Uni at large, he’s—well, a concept? The campus god, as wattpad core as it sounds, he simply makes it seem that way. The guy who sits in the back of lecture halls looking bored and devastatingly handsome, presumably thinking about complex philosophical theories or his next modeling gig (he doesn’t have any). 

In reality, he’s usually just thinking about whether it is going to rain or stressing over the fact that he held the door open for someone slightly too early, forcing them to do that awkward little run-walk, they were grateful regardless. It’s a fragile ecosystem, really. A reputation built entirely on the fact that he doesn’t talk enough for people to realize he’s actually a massive loser.

Only Sim Jaeyun knew the truth, along with Jay and Heeseung but yeah. Jake knew that Sunghoon isn’t brooding, rather, he’s buffering (as sad as that is). He knows that his oh so cold, mysterious silence is just Sunghoon’s brain playing elevator music (Wii party soundtrack preferably) while he tries to figure out how to function like a human being. 

But tonight, Sunghoon feels good, he feels capable somehow. He’s wearing his favorite gray sweatpants, Jay is making pasta and garlic bread, and the dorm smells like home in the best way possible. He has one job—bring the cups to the living room. Jake had been going on about inviting a chaotic duo he came across at a gaming cafe, who absolutely destroyed him during gaming but that eventually led to him aggressively adopting them into his life out of sheer respect for the carry later.

Sunghoon peels the plastic sleeve off the stack of red Solo cups with a satisfying crinkle, feeling that same surge of confidence, headphones playing his favourite EsDeeKid song (Palaces), letting him vibe, completely blocking out the chatter and laughter outside. He steps out of the kitchenette, the bass in his ears vibrating through his skull, making him feel momentarily infinite. He is the main character in a very low-stakes indie movie, he is cool, he is ready to perceive and be perceived, or so he thinks.

And then his eyes land on the center of the living room, and the soundtrack in his head comes to a screeching, violent-ish halt. He expects noise—he can see Jake’s mouth moving rapidly, gesturing with a ladle like a weapon—but he doesn’t expect you.

You are already there, claiming the space in a way that makes the cramped dorm room feel suddenly, terrifically bright. You’re standing near the beat-up sofa, one sneaker kicked off and overturned on the rug, looking comfortably disheveled in a way that art directors spend hours trying to replicate. You’re in the middle of laughing at something another one of your friends said, and he doesn’t know his name yet—a full-bodied, head-thrown-back kind of laugh that Sunghoon can’t hear over his music but can feel in his chest anyway.

You look effortless, like you didn’t even try, yet somehow succeeded more than anyone else in the room. You’re wearing a simple white tank top tucked into vintage denim that fits perfectly, with a leather jacket slipping casually off one shoulder. Your hair is loose, framing a face that is currently lit up with pure, unadulterated joy, and your eyes are crinkled shut with mirth.

Sunghoon’s brain, usually a well-oiled machine of anxiety, simply—stops. The music fades into static, and his calm and composed narrative dissolves. Oh, he thinks, his grip on the plastic stack tightening until it crunches. Wow.

He is so busy processing the sudden, violent realization that you might be the prettiest thing he has ever seen that he forgets a fundamental rule of Newtonian physics, Pauli Exclusion Principle: two solid objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time.

One of those objects is his broad, unsuspecting shoulder, the other is the wooden doorframe, and there’s a loud sound of collision—a bone-jarring impact that cuts right through his noise-canceling headphones and jolts his entire skeleton from the teeth down. The shockwave travels instantly to his hands, and the stack of red cups, liberated by the violence of the collision, explodes outward like plastic fireworks. They rain down onto the carpet in a chaotic, clattering cacophony that seems to echo for ten years, at least for Sunghoon.

Sunghoon freezes, vibrating with pain, staring blankly at a single red cup spinning sadly near his big toe. Slowly and painfully, he slides his headphones down to his neck. The room has gone dead silent.

The friend you were laughing with—the one with the cat-like eyes, stops mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open. Jake blinks slowly from the couch, profound confusion etched into his features. And you—you turn slowly, eyes wide, the laughter still lingering on your face as you take in the tragedy of the cups and the man currently trying to merge with the drywall.

“Holy shit,” the friend breaks the silence, abandoning his game to lean over the back of the couch, “you good, dude?”

Sunghoon stays very still, he is waiting for one of two things to happen—either for the floorboards to mercifully open up and swallow him whole, or for his body to spontaneously combust from the sheer, blinding force of his own humiliation. Neither happens, instead, the throbbing ache in his shoulder radiates down his arm, a dull, pulsing reminder that he is not, in fact, the protagonist of a cool indie film, he is a hazard.

Say something, his brain screams, make a joke, be charming. Recover for fucks sake. 

“I’m good,” Sunghoon manages, though his voice comes out about three octaves higher than usual. He clears his throat, “I’m—yeah. Totally fine. Just—slipped.”

“You slipped?” The friend—Jungwon, he remembers Jake calling him—asks, eyebrows shooting up, “into the doorframe? Vertically?”

“The carpet,” Sunghoon says, pointing an accusing finger at the perfectly standard rug, “it’s deceptive man.”

From the floor, a soft snort erupts, It’s you. You aren’t looking at him with pity, which is what he expects. You’re grinning—a wide, genuine expression that scrunches your nose—and before Sunghoon can process the movement, you’ve dropped to a crouch in front of him to help with the plastic disaster zone.

“Deceptive carpet,” you repeat, the corner of your mouth twitching as you reach for a cup that rolled near his ankle. 

Sunghoon’s ears are burning. He can feel the heat spreading down his neck, violent and undeniable. He drops to his knees out of a desperate need to avoid looking at Jake, who is currently burying his face in a cushion.

“I mean—,” Sunghoon mumbles, grabbing cups with frantic, uncoordinated hands, “It’s physics. Momentum, y’know?”

“Right, physics,” you drawl, and your voice is warm, teasing in a way that makes his stomach do a weird flip. You hand him a stack of cups you’ve gathered, “well, try not to fight any more inanimate objects tonight, okay? The dorm deposit is expensive.”

Your fingers brush against his knuckles as you pass the stack. His skin practically zaps where you touched him. Sunghoon flinches like he’s been electrocuted, nearly dropping the cups all over again. He looks up, terrified, and finds your face inches from his. Up close, you’re even intimidatingly prettier. You smell like vanilla and leather, and your eyes are dancing.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you say easily, sitting back on your heels. 

Sunghoon stares at you. He knows he needs to respond. The social contract dictates that he provides his own name in return, it is a simple exchange. Input: Name. Output: Name. But his brain is currently running on a backup generator powered by a single, terrified hamster, and gosh the hamster is tired.

“Uh,” Sunghoon starts, his voice cracking a little, then he clears his throat, “Y/N.”

He nods, “Right, you’re Y/N.”

You look at him, waiting.

“I’m—” Sunghoon trails off, looking at your eyes, they are very pretty. He looks at your mouth, you’re smiling, “I’m—Y/N?” He stops, eyes widening. No, that is incorrect.

“I mean—” He waves a hand frantically, nearly knocking over the stack of cups he just rescued, “You’re Y/N! I’m Sunghoon. Yeah. Yeah—you’re Sunghoon and I’m Y/N—wait.”

He freezes. The sentence hangs in the air between you, defying all logic, space, and time. Did I just steal her identity? The silence that follows is loud. Behind him, he hears Jungwon choke on a laugh, disguising it as a cough. Jake just sighs, a long, mournful sound of a man who has given up on his roommate entirely, and Heeseung doesn’t bother hiding his jolly laugh. 

You blink at him. Then, slowly, that grin widens until it takes up your whole face.

“We’re swapping?” You ask, delighted, “okay—I’ve always wanted to be tall.”

Sunghoon feels his soul attempting to leave his body through his ears, he stands up, he stands up way too fast. His knees pop, adding a nice, crunchy soundtrack to his humiliation.

“I have to wash these,” he announces to the room at large, voice dangerously monotone.

“They were in a plastic sleeve,” Jake points out from the couch, finally turning around to witness the wreckage, “they’re clean bro.”

“Dust!” Sunghoon yells. He doesn’t look back, he can’t, “you can’t see it, but it’s there. It’s everywhere!”

He turns on his heel and flees. There is no other word for it, he practically speed-walks back into the safety of the kitchenette, shoulders hunched up to his ears, clutching the red cups to his chest, leaving the echo of his dignity—and his name—behind on the living room rug. He rounds the corner, out of sight, and immediately presses his forehead against the cool stainless steel of the fridge. He squeezes his eyes shut, his chest heaving like he just ran a marathon.

“He’s usually—uh—he’s usually not like this,” he hears Jake say in the other room, sounding apologetic.

“He’s funny,” you reply, and Sunghoon can hear the smile in your voice, “I like him.”

Sunghoon slides down the front of the fridge until he hits the floor, all while he buries his burning face in his hands. He is absolutely, irrevocably doomed.

“You good down there?”

Sunghoon peels one eye open, Jay is standing above him, holding a pair of tongs, staring at him with the blank, unimpressed expression of a man who has seen too much.

“I live here,” Sunghoon says to the ceiling, his voice hollow, “I pay rent, I have a 3.8 GPA. Why can’t I say my own name?”

“Nerves,” Jay says, flipping a piece of garlic bread, “also, you told her she was you. That was fucking insane.”

“Shut up, Jay.”

Sunghoon groans and scrambles up. He looks at the stack of cups in his hand, they are perfectly clean, but he washes them anyway. He turns on the tap and aggressively scrubs the brand-new plastic with the intensity of a surgeon scrubbing in for a heart transplant, just to buy himself thirty more seconds of isolation. Get it together, he coaches himself, staring at his reflection in the dark window above the sink. 

You are Park Sunghoon, you have a twelve-step skincare routine, you know how to parallel park, you are a functional member of society who definitely knows who he is.

He dries his hands, he fixes his hair in the reflection of the microwave, he takes a deep breath that does absolutely nothing to lower his heart rate, and marches back out. The vibe in the living room has shifted. In the three minutes he was gone, you have seamlessly integrated into the environment of the dorm. You’re sitting cross-legged on the rug now, stealing garlic bread from Jake’s plate. 

You look comfortable, annoyingly so, considering Sunghoon currently feels like his skin is made of itchy wool and his bones are made of glass. He walks over, moving stiffly, trying to be as aerodynamic as possible to avoid hitting any other stationary objects. He sets the slightly-damp cups down on the coffee table with a thud.

“All clean now,” he announces. 

You look up, and you don’t laugh this time, but the corner of your mouth twitches, scooting over slightly on the rug, patting the empty space next to you, wondering what was going in the head of this pretty boy.

“Saved you a spot,” you say easily.

Sunghoon’s brain does that static thing again, he walks over stiffly, like a toy soldier, and lowers himself onto the rug. He sits carefully, hyper aware of everything, of you. 

“Thanks,” he manages and it comes out deeper than he intended, almost gruff. Great. Now he sounds like a grumpy toddler.

You tear a piece off the garlic bread in your hand—the one you definitely stole, and offer it to him, “here, eat something, you’re practically vibrating.”

Sunghoon stares at the bread, then at you, “I’m not vibrating.”

“You are,” you insist, pressing the bread into his hand, “eat a lil’.”

Sunghoon takes it. He has to, really, because your fingers are brushing his palm and his brain has decided that obeying you is the only way to survive, and your fingers are soft, very soft. 

“I’m calm,” he lies, taking a bite. It’s cold, but he chews it with interest. 

“Uh-huh,” you grin, leaning back on your hands, your leather jacket creaking softly, “so, Park Sunghoon, besides forgetting your own identity, what do you do?” 

Sunghoon swallows, he wipes a crumb from his lip, trying to regain some semblance of the mysterious aura he allegedly has, “I exist,” he says, trying for deadpan humor, “I listen to music. I tolerate Jake.”

“A noble calling,” you laugh, “I’ve only known him for a week and I’m already exhausted.”

“Jungwon, remove her from the group chat,” Jake deadpans, looking at him straight in the eye. 

Jungwon looks his way, then your way before nodding, “let’s remove Jake.” 

You both chuckled as Jake let out a gasp, launching a throw pillow that hits Jungwon square in the chest while Heeseung groans, “so no one added me to the chat, huh?” 

Sunghoon doesn’t care, he’s zoned out as Jay joins the group with his freshly made mac and cheese truffle, and the room immediately devolves into a clamor of grabbing hands, Jungwon and Jake temporarily calling a truce to eat, and add a now very jolly Hee to the group chat. Sunghoon, however, has his undivided attention on you, he watches through his peripheral vision, as you lean forward to inspect the pot, the movement causes your leather jacket to slip further down your arm, he gulps at the sight. 

A nudge almost sends him into orbit, head snapping at your face with mouth wide open, and you’re looking at him with your brow raised, a bowl in your hand, “you okay?” You asked, and he nodded mindlessly, and you were genuinely confused now. 

You hand him the bowl, fingers brushing and he’s pretty sure his ears have turned red by now, but you’re not teasing him, and he likes how you simply just fit in here, “eat up, hm?”

“Thanks, yeah,” he mutters, looking down at the pasta, and it makes you smile at him fondly, before Jake’s groan interrupts you as he practically cries watching the cricket match on TV.

Jay sits behind you on the couch, starts talking about the history of this game—which only Jungwon pays attention to somehow, and then he stops to observe the room. His gaze drifts from the television screen to the floor, he watches you settle back against the couch cushions, then, his eyes slide to the person sitting next to you.

Sunghoon isn’t watching the match really. Jay watches as Sunghoon stares at the side of your profile for a beat too long. Then, Sunghoon looks down at the bowl in his lap. A small, shy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, it’s something soft and entirely unguarded. And then, as if his brain has just caught up with what his face is doing, Sunghoon freezes. He just stops moving completely, his smile vanishing into a look of sheer, silent panic.

Jay pauses, his fork hovering halfway to his mouth. He looks at you, completely unbothered, he looks back at Sunghoon, who is currently staring at a piece of macaroni. Jay closes his eyes, he sighs, a long, heavy exhale.

“Oh no.”

STEP TWO: Prolonged realization

It had been four days since you had dinner at Jake’s place, four days since you met Sunghoon, four days since you took Jay’s tupperware as he packed some pasta for you, Jungwon, and your friend Karina. 

To be honest, you hadn't expected to see Park Sunghoon again so soon, mostly because Jungwon had reported that he was currently in hibernation to recover from the sheer embarrassment of introducing himself as you. You’d caught glimpses of him on campus, but he was always in a rush somehow with his long strides. 

“If you don’t return these,” Jungwon had told you ten minutes ago, dumping the heavy glass tower into your arms, “Jay is going to skin me, like—it’s just tupperware.”

So, here you were, standing in the hallway of the boys’ dorm, smelling faintly of rain and balancing a stack of glass containers, knocking on the door, expecting Jay to open the door, only to find a very cozy looking Sunghoon. 

He looked completely different from the guy you’d seen walking around campus. He was wearing a massive gray hoodie and wire-rimmed glasses that were sliding down his nose, and he was holding a piece of peanut butter toast in one hand. He looked soft, sleepy, and very much at home. He blinked at you, clearly surprised, with his cheeks still puffed out from a bite of toast.

“Oh,” he mumbled, swallowing hard, “hi!”

“Hi,” you smiled, adjusting the heavy stack in your arms, “just here to return these, Jay was getting impatient you see. I also made cookies cause it’s not nice to give back empty containers,” you mumbled, eyes on Sunghoon’s moles—they looked pretty. 

He stepped forward to help, reaching out with both hands, clearly forgetting the peanut butter toast in his right hand, which slipped and fell on the ground with a wet thwap. Sunghoon stared down at the rug, his shoulders slumping in instant, silent defeat.

“I literally just made that,” he whispered, looking genuinely pained.

“RIP,” you murmured, biting back a laugh at how tragic he looked over a slice of bread, “the five-second rule is a little risky with carpet, though.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, crouching down immediately to peel the sticky mess off the floor, “Jay just vacuumed, too. I’m dead.”

“Here.” You shifted the stack to one hip, crouching down to hand him a tissue from your pocket.

He took the tissue, “thanks,” he mumbled, ears turning red yet again. He stood up, tossing the ruined toast in the bin by the door, then finally turned back to take the heavy stack of containers from you properly. He carefully set the stack on the narrow entryway table. He stared at the top container for a second, seemingly processing the fact that there were actual baked goods inside.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Figured you’d like something other than pasta,” you smiled, cause apparently that’s all what they ate. 

“I swear,” Hoon laughed, and it was cute, “it’s usually good but he uses so much basil, and it’s always penne.”

“What’s wrong with penne?”

“I just like fusilli better,” he mumbled, now aware of how he’s making you stand, “wait—do you wanna—like, come in?” 

“I would love to, but I have a lecture in—” you checked your phone, “twenty one minutes.”

He frowned for a second before nodding in understanding, “oh yeah, sorry. You should go, we can hang out some other time.” He looked so crestfallen, standing there in his oversized hoodie with his hands tucked into the sleeves, that you couldn’t help yourself. You took a step closer instead of backing away.

“Hey, Sunghoon?”

“Yeah?” He blinked, straightening up, looking at you with those wide, attentive eyes.

“Hold still.”

Before he could ask why, you reached out. His hair was a mess—probably from the hoodie, or maybe he’d been napping before you knocked—and there was a piece sticking straight up in the back like an antenna. Sunghoon froze, he almost stopped breathing as your fingers brushed against his hair, smoothing down the lock. His hair was soft, softer than it looked. You let your hand linger for a split second longer than necessary, your knuckles grazing the shell of his ear.

“Bedhead,” you murmured, pulling your hand back, scrunching your nose with how adorable he looked. Sunghoon didn’t move, simply staring at you as he gulped, his ears turning red (again) that clashed horribly with his gray hoodie. 

It was hard for him to keep his mind elsewhere even when you had taken your leave, especially when he tasted those double chocolate chip cookies—moaning with how perfect they were, crispy on the edges and softer in the middle. He was embarrassed, acting like a schoolboy with a crush, but he told himself it wasn’t that, he simply liked you as a person. 

So, when he met you again when the group decided to go out for dinner near the campus, he swore he’d be normal around you, maintaining some distance to not embarrass himself any further. 

When they arrived at the barbecue spot, the air thick with smoke and chatter, Sunghoon spotted you immediately. You were standing by the entrance with Jungwon and your other friend, laughing at something he said, wearing a simple dress that shouldn’t have looked nearly as good as it did. Don’t stare, he told himself, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Say hi. Be cool.

“Hey guys,” you beamed as they approached, your eyes landing on him.

“Hey,” Sunghoon managed, keeping his voice painfully neutral. He offered a stiff nod, barely making eye contact before pivoting toward the empty table. 

He made a beeline for the corner seat, the one furthest from where he assumed you’d sit. He was halfway there when Jungwon threw his backpack down.

“I’m taking the wall!” Jungwon announced, diving into the booth and dragging Jake with him.

“I need the aisle to grill,” Jay declared, blocking the other side.

Sunghoon froze cause the geometry of the table was rapidly collapsing against him. Karina (your other friend slash roomie) slid in next to Jay. That left one spot—the middle, right next to the aisle. Right next to—

“Can I sit here?” You asked, appearing at his elbow with a grin.

He stiffened, his brain short-circuiting. He hurriedly shimmied into the booth, pressing his thigh against Jake’s so hard that Jake grunted, “dude, personal space.”

“Sorry,” Sunghoon muttered, staring straight ahead at the metal grill.

You slid in beside him, arm brushing against his, the friction sending a jolt straight up his spine. You smelled like vanilla and the rain from earlier, a scent that was quickly becoming his favorite thing to panic over.

“Did you like the cookies?” You asked, eyes shining in hope. 

And gosh—he did. He almost forgot about the protein diet he was planning and ate four of your cookies in a go, saving some for later as well. Not to mention how he fought Jake for the last cookie—who was running away teasing Hoon about his newly developed crush, which resulted in Jake being in his chokehold. 

“They were really good,” he managed to say sincerely. 

“He snatched the cookies from me,” Jake added helpfully, which surprised you pleasantly, much to Hoon’s dismay who didn’t want Jake to open his damn mouth. 

You liked it, liked seeing him panic, it made him look like a lost puppy. It was clear how he was trying to avoid more conversations about you, especially since he shoved a piece of meat in Jake’s mouth each time he tried to talk to you, so you focused back on Heeseung and Karina, who were debating about the new albums and rating them. 

Even while doing so, your attention kept diverting to Sunghoon and Jay discussing Maillard’s reaction for the perfect cooking of meat. He was so comfortable talking to others, not stuttering once, and he had nice hands, such nice and big and veiny hands—a kick from under the table made you wince, and you looked up to see Karina winking at you, eyes drifting to Sunghoon, which made you roll your eyes, cause sure—he was cute, but he didn’t even wish to talk to you (he just wanted to survive dinner). And somehow, that distracted you more than you’d like to admit. By the time the bill was paid, the night air had cooled down, and Jay insisted on driving you back home, granted you all lived in the dorms. 

Sunghoon could see where this was going, especially the way Karina and Jungwon headed to the backseat, Jay took the driver’s seat, Jake naturally opting for the shotgun, which left you, Heeseung, and Sughoon in the middle seating area. Heeseung didn’t bother waiting, sliding in and putting his headphones on. That left the middle seat and the seat closest to the door.

“After you,” Sunghoon said, his voice a little tight. He held the door open, gesturing for you to climb in.

You slid into the middle seat, settling against the upholstery. Sunghoon hesitated for a fraction of a second, staring at the empty space beside you before he finally climbed in and pulled the door shut. With Heeseung passed out against the far window and Jake shouting at the radio in the front, the back seat felt like a private, terrifyingly intimate bubble, more so when Jake decided they should take a detour and take a longer ride. 

Jay pulled out of the parking lot, and the car merged into the evening traffic, and by traffic, it was practically a congestion, which made you groan considering how sleepy you felt, “I hate this intersection, it’s always a mess I swear.” 

Sunghoon cleared his throat, “the civil engineers set the green light duration for the turn lane too short relative to the main avenue’s volume honestly. It creates a bottleneck every time the cycle resets. If they just added four seconds to the north-bound signal, this entire congestion would clear in no time.”

You looked at him, his skin shining under the dim lights, “you figured that out by just looking at it?” 

He just shrugged, wondering if he should have let his mouth shut, cause you probably think he’s even more of a nerd now. 

“You know,” you said, a soft smile tugging at your lips, “you’re actually really smart, Sunghoon.”

That actually hit him hard, he expected you to call him a nerd, instead, you were looking at him with genuine admiration, your eyes reflecting the passing city lights. He opened his mouth to respond, but his brain stalled. He settled for a strangled nod, quickly turning his face toward the window to hide the fact that his neck was rapidly heating up. The rest of the ride was a blur of brake lights and the rhythmic thump-thump of the windshield wipers. The warmth of the car, combined with the heavy meal, eventually pulled you under. As Jay navigated the final turn toward the dorms, your head lulled to the side, landing softly on Sunghoon’s shoulder.

He went rigid instantly, he stopped breathing actually. He didn’t move a single muscle, not even to adjust his arm which was starting to go numb from the angle. If he didn't like you, he would have politely nudged you awake or shifted away. Instead, he sat there, a statue in a damp hoodie, terrified that even a single exhale would disturb you, staring at how pretty you looked even as you slept, so comfortable around him.

He wanted to kiss you, he wished to kiss your forehead, and that should have been the sign, but he didn’t, opting to stare like a lovesick puppy who couldn’t admit he was catching feelings. It wasn’t really convenient how he wondered if you’d be just as perfect under him, would you curl up? Pull him closer? Would you want him to touch you?

And he kept on acting like an invisible man after, simply because you woke up and thanked him with that pretty smile of yours, and if it were to get any further Sunghoon swore he would not be able to survive it, not when all his friends were whistling at the fact that Sunghoon could pull someone even with his endearing loser ways.

The invisible act stayed for long, leading to the mid semester exams, which meant that Sunghoon had successfully managed to keep it together for nearly two months since that night, which made him feel proud for handling it so well, or so he thought, until the night before the final major midterm.

The library doors swung open, revealing a torrential downpour, making the group groan in unison—except for Sunghoon, who had checked three different weather apps and was clutching a sturdy black umbrella.

Logic dictated he open it. Logic dictated he offer to walk you to your dorm, sharing the small space under the canopy. But Sunghoon looked at you, shivering in your oversized sweater, and his brain supplied a vivid image of your shoulders brushing for ten whole minutes, so well, panic overrode survival instincts.

“Here,” he blurted out, shoving the umbrella handle into your chest, “cover Jungwon and Karina, It’s big enough for the group.”

“What? Sunghoon, wait—”

“I have to run!” He announced, his voice cracking.

Before you could argue, he turned and sprinted into the deluge, instantly soaking his hoodie as he splashed through the puddles while Jay and Jake watched with absolute disbelief on their faces, staring at each other and sighing, agreeing that Hoon was indeed down bad, and even worse at pretending to be normal about it. 

Behind you, Jungwon watched Sunghoon’s retreating figure, then looked at you as you immediately popped the umbrella open and bolted after him, leaving the rest of the group dry but abandoned.

“Idiots in denial,” Jungwon muttered, shaking his head as he pulled his jacket over his head, “I hate it here.”

Sunghoon made it halfway across the quad before the rain stopped hitting him. He skid to a halt, chest heaving, and looked up to see the black umbrella hovering over his head. He turned slowly to find you standing there, slightly out of breath and holding the umbrella over him, your own shoulder getting wet in the process.

“You are ridiculous, Park Sunghoon,” you laughed, though your eyes were soft, “who runs in the rain to avoid sharing an umbrella?”

Sunghoon stared at you, and god you were close, you were wet. You were smiling at him like he was the only person in the world. He was absolutely, irrevocably doomed as you walked him to the dorms, when he insisted on dropping you first, which he did. 

What he didn’t expect was the hug you gave him, “thanks Hoon,” you’d mumbled into his ear, god you smelled so good, you were so warm, and fit perfectly into his hug, smiling brightly before heading inside without any care of Jungwon and Karina. 

The hug, the smile, the way you used his nickname—yeah, Sunghoon wasn’t sure how he was still breathing, and it was comical how he stood there for five minutes even after you’d gone inside, poor man was broken, and now there wasn’t any room for denial. 

Later that night, shivering in his dorm room and wrapped in three blankets, Sunghoon stared at his ceiling with wide, terrified eyes. He fished his laptop out of his bag and typed with trembling fingers:

WikiHow: How to flirt with a pretty girl (with pictures). 

STEP THREE: Establish eye contact (like a normal person)

Sunghoon thought he was safe, that closing his laptop’s lid was enough when he went out to get some water before taking a shower, but boy he couldn’t have been more wrong. He walked into the living room with a towel still around his waist after the shower, only to find Heeseung staring at a MacBook with intense focus, but wait—was that his MacBook? Of fucking course, Jay and Jake were there as well, shoulders shaking with silent, violent laughter. Sunghoon froze in the doorway, water dripping from his hair onto the carpet, witnessing the exact moment his social life turned into a tragedy.

“Is that—is that a step-by-step guide?” Jake wheezed, tears streaming down his face as he pointed a trembling finger at the screen.

Heeseung cleared his throat, reading from the screen like a news anchor, “WikiHow: How to flirt with a pretty girl. With pictures. It says here: Smile to show you are approachable.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Sunghoon yelled, his voice cracking two octaves. He lunged across the room, nearly losing his towel, but Jay blocked his path with a shit-eating grin.

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Jay sighed, shaking his head with mock sympathy, “Jungwon will kill you.”

Sunghoon froze, the color draining from his face, “wait, why?”

“Cause he likes Y/N,” Heeseung said, keeping his face perfectly straight.

“He what now?” Sunghoon whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Yeah,” Jake added, nodding solemnly, “they’re in love. Haven’t you noticed? The bickering? It’s their thing.”

Sunghoon looked like he had just been shot in the chest. His shoulders slumped, his lips parted in shock, and he stared at the floor with such profound, soul-shattering devastation that the room went silent for a full second. He looked small, wet, and utterly defeated, all while being in his towel, abs out and everything.

“Oh my god,” Jay burst out laughing, hitting Heeseung’s arm, “we’re kidding! You can’t even be jealous without looking like a kicked puppy.”

Sunghoon scoffed, eyes teary, his soul slowly returning to his body as the realization hit, “I hate you, all of you,” he hissed, snatching his laptop and fleeing to the safety of his locked room.

He didn’t know if it would work, but he wished to try anyway, no more running away, which is why he opened the MacBook yet again to go over the steps, preparing himself for the first one, sighing and smiling over the fact that you and Jungwon weren’t actually dating, but that didn’t mean you’d be single for too long, hence, he needs to start step one right after the exams are done. Just like that, Hoon was more focused on the plan rather than the exam, but he was pretty sure he aced it anyway, what he lacked was practical skills, not theory.

The exams came and went, leaving everyone with varying degrees of sleep deprivation, and a desperate need for greasy food. Which is how, mere hours after the final paper was submitted, you all found yourselves crammed into a sticky booth at the campus pub for the weekly Tuesday Trivia Night. You were sitting directly across from Sunghoon, stealing fries from Jungwon’s plate while arguing about the best Mario Kart track (toad harbour). Sunghoon, however, wasn’t listening. He was mentally rehearsing. He had spent the last three days memorizing Step 1: Make Eye Contact.

The article said: Lock eyes with her for a few seconds to show you’re interested. Don’t look away first. Be bold.

He took a deep breath, gripped his pint glass until his knuckles turned white, and initiated the sequence. He looked at you while you were laughing at something Jake said, your head thrown back, looking effortless and bright against the dim pub lighting. Sunghoon locked on, staring with intense focus. You paused, a fry hovering halfway to your mouth, sensing the weight of his gaze. You blinked, confused, but Sunghoon didn’t look away. Hold the gaze, his brain screamed, assert dominance.

“Hoon?” You asked, using the nickname again.

Sunghoon didn’t answer, he couldn’t, he was too busy counting the seconds. Then, you did the one thing WikiHow hadn’t really prepared him for, you didn’t look away shyly, rather, you leaned in.

You placed your elbows on the sticky table and leaned forward, bringing your face alarmingly close to his, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

“You’re staring, Park,” you lowered your voice, teasing him, “and here I thought you were ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” he blurted, maintaining that eye contact, “it’s kind of hard—to ignore you.”

The playful smirk dropped from your face as you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden honesty in his tone, which was needed especially when you did spend a gracious amount of time complaining to Karina about how you shouldn’t have hugged Sunghoon cause he had started ignoring you. He wasn’t stuttering now, wasn’t looking elsewhere, just into your eyes—which he finds really pretty.

“Oh,” you breathed, the teasing edge now vanished, leaning back as you felt the faint heat creeping up your neck, matching his own.

“Okay, question one!” The host bellowed, successfully helping Sunghoon escape the situation.

Sunghoon exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He had survived Step 1, but he was pretty sure he’d lost a few years of his life in the process. Then the game started, and Sunghoon forgot about the steps entirely, he just watched you. You were a force of nature, especially when the category switched to 2000s Pop Culture, you were unstoppable.

“Shrek 2!” You yelled before the host finished the quote.

“Correct!”

You high-fived Jake so hard the table shook, and Sunghoon wished he was there instead of Jake. You were competitive, loud, and brilliant. Sunghoon didn’t answer a single question, he just sat there, nursing his drink, tracking your every movement. He watched the way you bit your lip when you were thinking, and the way your eyes crinkled shut when you laughed at Jake’s wrong answers, who was way too competitive for his own good.

“Ouagadougou!” You shouted for the geography round, slamming your hand on the table.

“How do you know everything?” Jungwon asked, looking at you with mild horror.

“I have a brain, Won,” you winked, shooting a glance across the table at Sunghoon, “see? We won.”

Sunghoon felt his heart do a traitorous little flip. He didn’t look away this time. He just smiled, a small, unguarded thing.

“You’re drooling,” Jungwon whispered, nudging Sunghoon’s ribs.

“Am not! Don’t kill me,” he gasped.

Jungwon furrowed his brows, “why the fuck would I kill you?”

“Uh, so you don’t like her, right?” He asked hopefully even though his friends had told him, his poor heart needed some actual confirmation.

“Bro please, you’re fighting ghosts here, absolutely not,” Jungwon said, looking at Sunghoon with—pity? 

Sunghoon processed this as you all started hugging each other, victory being too sweet not to, and he waited patiently, not sure if you would even hug him, but he did stand up with flushed cheeks when you appeared in front of him, the height difference painfully apparent now, he had to look down, his dark hair falling over his eyes, while you had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. Without overthinking it, you reached out and pulled him into a hug.

He turned into a literal pillar for a microsecond before the realization hit. Then, slowly, his arms wound around you, hesitant at first, then firm, pulling you into the warmth of his chest, and you could hear how fast his heart was beating as you leaned in, your chin resting on his shoulder. The noise of the pub—the clinking glasses, Jake’s loud laughter, the trivia host’s drone—all felt miles away.

You let your hand slide up from his shoulder, your fingers grazing the soft hair at the nape of his neck. His breath hitched, a sharp, audible sound that told you exactly how much effect you were having, and you didn’t mind, simply saying, “don’t be a stranger anymore, Hoonie.”

The nickname did it for him, and he practically shuddered under your touch, his knees actually buckling for a split second. He buried his face in the crook of your neck to hide the fact that his entire face was burning, inhaling sharply. He smelled like mango for some reason, and expensive cologne, but he was more focused on your scent.

“I won’t,” he rasped against your skin, “I promise.”

He held on for a second longer than intended, his fingers digging into the fabric of your sweater as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go. When you finally pulled back, stepping out of his personal space with a lingering smile, the loss of warmth hit him as he frowned. You waved at the group and walked out the door with Karina, who was more than ready to gossip about what had just happened, leaving the bell chiming in your wake.

Sunghoon stood frozen in the middle of the pub, his hand instinctively coming up to touch the back of his neck exactly where your fingers had been. He stared at the closed door for a full minute, unable to move, unable to think, his brain reduced to white noise and the echo of Hoonie.

“He’s broken,” Jake announced, waving a hand in front of Sunghoon’s unblinking eyes, “which is fair though, he got called Hoonie.”

“Did you hear that voice crack?” Jay snickered.

Sunghoon didn’t even hear them, just letting out a long, shaky exhale, his legs finally giving out as he collapsed back into the booth, burying his face in his hands.

“You really are like Nobita, just smarter when it comes to studies,” Jake let out as Sunghoon glared at him.

“And Jungwon can be Doremon,” Heeseung laughed, “round head and all, y’know?”

“Shouldn’t WikiHow be his Doremon though?” Jay asked looking at Jungwon who found the comment highly offensive.

“WikiHow?” He asked, and Jay told him the backstory, which had this man laughing like crazy, “Oh, I’m so telling this to Y/N.”

Now, that grabbed Hoon’s attention, who simply grabbed Jungwon and picked him up effortlessly despite him thrashing around—it was a funny sight, Hoon holding him up like a cat, “you wont tell her anything,” he warned, and for the first time he realised the strength of this man. 

“Yeah, forgot to tell you he’s strong behind his loser persona,” Heeseung added.

Either way, Sunghoon was in trouble, because he couldn’t sleep that night, and neither could Jungwon, who was contemplating joining gym now.

Hoon spent all night trying to plan his next step, and now he was prepared, he just had to find you.

STEP FOUR: Love is an open door—open it wider.

You were sitting with Karina at the campus coffee shop, finally resting after the exams were over, and right then your brows furrowed as you overheard two girls talking. Now, you weren’t one to eavesdrop, however, they were talking about Sunghoon—granting someone the best pleasure of their life? But he was with the whole group last night, so what’s that even about? Karina was listening as well, genuinely concerned at the very obvious made up story.

“What is going on?” You asked Karina, and she shrugged.

“He has this reputation of being this mysterious fuckboy, and people believe it cause no one really is close to him, she’s faking it all,” she replied, sipping her iced coffee.

“Woah, what the fuck?” You scoffed, “have they even seen how he looks like a puppy who’s always confused?”

“Yeah, they obviously don’t know that—but hey, he could be wild in the sheets, we don’t know that.”

You thought for a second, wondering if it could be true, because to you, Sunghoon seemed so sweet, almost like he’d be the softest, most loving man ever. But—you do wish to know what he was behind those oversized hoodies and shy smiles.

One of the girls smirked, going on about it, “no literally, he was wild last night, he’s got a big cock, and boy he knows exactly how to use it.”

You choked on your doughnut, Karina was amused seeing you like this, even more when the shop bell chimed, “damn, speak of the devil—and is he wearing Prada?” 

You turned around, wiping sugar off your lip, and sure enough, there he was. Sunghoon stood in the doorway, clad in a long, structured trench coat over a sleek turtleneck, looking like he’d stepped straight off a runway (yeah, you wanted him in your bed now). The entire coffee shop seemed to dim in his presence. The two girls behind you gasped, clutching each other’s arms.

“He’s looking,” one whispered frantically, “act natural.”

Sunghoon, however, wasn’t looking at them, scanning the room to find you, and he paused when he did. If Jake was there, he would practically see the WikiHow page loading in his brain—Step 2: Smile and be approachable. He tried to soften his face, but the nerves got the better of him. Instead of a gentle, welcoming smile, he pulled his lips back in a stiff, terrifyingly symmetrical grimace that made him look like he was bracing for an impact. He held the expression as he walked toward the counter to order his coffee as you sat there, confused. 

“Is he okay?” You asked.

“Don’t know, he’s always like that around you,” she said, and that made you smile—getting a weird glance from Karina. 

Sunghoon grabbed his iced Americano, took a deep breath to reset his expression, and walked over. He stopped in front of you, looking slightly thrown off by Karina’s presence, but he played it cool.

“Oh,” he said, his voice dropping to a smooth, feigned nonchalance, “fancy seeing you here.”

He absolutely did not mention that he had asked Jungwon for your location, and Jungwon absolutely didn’t mention that you weren’t alone.

He looked like he was about to retreat to a corner to brood over his failed smile, but you weren’t about to let that happen. Not with the rumor mill churning behind you.

“Hoon, wait,” you said, reaching out to snag the belt of his coat, tugging him closer.

Sunghoon froze, stumbling a step forward, looking down at you with wide, confused eyes, “y—yeah?”

“You look absolutely exhausted,” you said, pitching your voice just loud enough for the table behind you to hear. You reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead, letting your fingers linger against his skin, and he wasn’t functioning anymore, that touch sending a shiver down his body and stopping right on his cock. 

He fucking loved it when you touched him, your fingers were so gentle, so soft on his skin, and maybe you did like him—that’s why you pulled him closer, right? He looked at you with wide eyes, dropping down to your lipgloss painted lips, which looked too inviting. 

“Tired from last night?” You asked, granting him a smile. 

He almost fainted, cause it sounded as if you knew he was up all night staring at your photos from instagram, rolling around on his bed with a genuine smile. But how could you know that? So he simply nodded, thinking (hoping) you were referring to Trivia night. 

“Yeah, I mean—it did go on for a while, and you were amazing,” he nodded, leaning into your touch instinctively, praying his best to sound normal. 

Behind him, the girls inhaled sharply, their imaginations clearly running wild. You smirked, knowing they were picturing a scandalous night while you were actually thinking about him being zoned out for most of the night, paying attention to the winning part only. 

“You kept up yknow? That’s impressive too,” you added helpfully even though he had not said a word during the trivia, patting his chest, not knowing how the poor man was suffering—in a good way, “you should rest, we were up really late.”

“I—yeah, it was worth it,” he said, looking down on the floor. 

Karina was shaking her head with the biggest smile on her face, turning back to see the girls talking in hushed voices. 

You chuckled, “okay, you should go rest now, bye Hoonie!”

He nodded, trying to give you another smile that looked very—uh, scary? But he left, not having it in him to actually stay and talk when there was an audience (Karina), he kicked the random stones on the path as he walked and sat in the Uni park, unsure what had even happened. 

“You are a menace,” Karina whispered when he was gone.

“I’m just clarifying things,” you winked, taking a bite of your doughnut as the girls behind you sat in stunned, jealous silence as you both gathered your things and started walking towards the dorms.

It was then when you spotted Sunghoon sitting alone, and you stopped, “I’ll catch you later,” you told her, and she followed your gaze, smirking at how obviously dumb the both of you were.

“Try not to break him this time, hm? Go get him, tiger,” she patted your back and you rolled your eyes, heading towards him, watching him tap his foot to some rhythm, staring ahead blankly.

You slid onto the bench next to him, nudging his knee with yours. Sunghoon jumped, his head snapping toward you. When he registered it was you, he immediately smiled, he had dressed up as well, granted WikiHow did say to dress up nicely and smell good, for which he ended up going to Jay for his perfume collection. He tried to smile, he really did, but he looked so endearingly awkward, you couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Hoon, please,” you wheezed, reaching up to pull one side of his earpods away from his ear, “what are you doing?”

Sunghoon’s face crumbled instantly, the smile dropping into a pout of genuine despair. He slumped back against the bench, looking miserable.

“I’m trying to be approachable,” he groaned, his voice low and defeated. “I heard that I look mean when I’m thinking. I didn’t want you to think I was—I don’t know, unapproachable.”

“You are unapproachable,” you pointed out, stealing the headphone cup you’d pulled off his ear and holding it to your own, “but that’s because you are handsome.”

“Huh—what—”

You didn’t let him think much as you paused, grinning slightly, “wait. Are you listening to—is this Disney?"

Sunghoon froze. He snatched the EarPod back, his cheeks flushing, “no,” he lied immediately, “It’s—hard rock. Heavy metal, yeah.”

“Sunghoon,” you grinned, leaning into his space, “that was definitely love is an open door from Frozen.”

You didn’t give him a chance to come up with another lie. You just smiled, leaned back against the bench as you grabbed the airpod yet again, wearing it, and you started singing early knowing he’d malfunction. 

“I mean it’s crazy—”

Sunghoon froze, he stared at you, his mouth slightly agape. He looked around the park to see if anyone was watching, then looked back at you. You raised an eyebrow, challenging him. You knew he couldn’t leave a verse unfinished. It was against his nature, even if he had to sing the female verse of it.

“What?” he whispered, the word slipping out involuntarily. 

You grinned, leaning closer, your shoulder pressing against his, “we finish each other’s—”

Sunghoon’s eyes darted between your lips and your eyes, he fought it. You could see the physical struggle on his face as he tried to maintain his cool, but the music was swelling, and you were looking at him with that expectant, teasing light in your eyes.

“Sandwiches!” He blurted out, perfectly on beat.

You gasped, delighted, placing a hand over your heart. “That’s what I was gonna say!”

Sunghoon let out a defeated, incredulous laugh, but he didn’t stop—he couldn’t. The two of you sat on the park bench, huddled together over a pair of earpods, quietly harmonizing the chorus while a squirrel watched judgmentally from a nearby tree.

“Our mental synchronization,” he sang, looking at you with a gaze that was too obvious, but you didn’t catch it, “can have but one explanation.”

“You,” you sang, pointing a finger at him.

“And I,” he sang, pointing back, a small, genuine smile breaking through his embarrassment.

“Were just meant to be,” you both finished in unison.

Sunghoon let the final note hang in the air before he slumped forward, burying his face in his hands again. His ears were burning a bright crimson, “I can’t believe I just did that,” he groaned into his palms, “I’m wearing a trench coat. I’m supposed to be cool.”

“You’re cool,” you said as he smiled, which made you stop, “hey, you have fangs,” you pointed it out and he got conscious, “don’t hide, your smile is pretty,” you mumbled, and he breathed out, smiling just for you, not thinking this time, as you leaned against his arm.

If Hoon thought yesterday was the best day of his life, he was wrong, cause with how carefree he felt with you in the moment, he swears this is the best day of his life.

Step: Smile at her—successful.

STEP FIVE: Be a hero (by using your crush as a human shield).

You had been smiling way too much lately, and it irritated Jungwon, who was having a shitty day with how his favourite hoodie went missing, how his headphones stopped working, and how he dropped his cupcake on the floor. He glared at you through it all, “stop smiling for fucks sake,” he mumbled.

“Oh shut up, Doremon,” you teased, as Jake had told you about the whole Nobita-Doremon conversation, minus the WikiHow part, while gaming with you. You were disappointed to see the absence of Hoon that day as he had lectures, but that didn’t compare to his disappointment. 

He fell down on the floor (it really happened, no exaggeration) when he learned that you had left just ten minutes before he arrived back at the dorm, it was as if he was facing withdrawals of your absence, not having seen you since that day in the park. And of course, he was not confident enough to actually text you. Yes, he had your number from the groupchat, but that was about it. Now, he couldn’t wait much longer as he sat down to actually plan the next step, which was breaking the touch barrier. He actively ignored Jake teasing him about how you were wearing a skirt (which you definitely wore in hopes of seeing him, but oh well), and how you looked so pretty.

Sunghoon rolled into his stomach, pulling his phone out to garner more ideas, and he settled on one which seemed to be the most natural—use a scary movie night as an excuse, hold her when she gets scared, be her protector. He wasn’t fond of it (horror movies), but he believed it was the only way to go on about it, which is why he opened the group chat and started typing, swallowing hard.

He hated horror movies, the last time he watched The Conjuring, he slept with Jay and Jake, who couldn’t really complain, being equally scared, but then, he imagined you—scared and pretty, leaning into him for protection, and he was sold.

Sunghoon: movie night, ill buy pizzas Jay: ? Jake: you hate paying bro?? Hee: free pizza i’m in Jungwon: oh you’re down to this now Karina: dw ill bring Y/N along You: sounds like fun, can’t wait :3

Sunghoon threw his phone across the bed, giggling into the pillow, and Jay stared at him from the half opened door, unimpressed at the view of his friend giggling like a schoolgirl, “please control yourself,” he mumbled. 

Sunghoon screamed, throwing the pillow his way, “personal space i swear, knock before you come in!”

“You’re cleaning that up,” Jay deadpanned, watching the pillow slide sadly down the wall, “and fix your face. You look insane.”

Three hours later, the dorm living room had been curated better as Sunghoon had dimmed the lights and gathered the pizza boxes. 

He was wearing a grey fitted tshirt because WikiHow said grey was a soft, inviting color. He was ready. When the door opened, it was chaos. Jake and Heeseung were already on the sofa, arguing about pineapple on pizza, Jungwon was complaining about the stairs, and Karina was dragging you inside.

“Hi, Hoon!” You beamed, spotting him instantly, you were wearing an oversized graphic tee and the skirt, oh that skirt, looking comfortable and devastatingly pretty.

Sunghoon’s brain short-circuited, “pizza,” he blurted out, pointing at the table, “I mean, hi. There’s pizza.”

“Smooth,” Heeseung whispered as he walked past, patting Sunghoon’s shoulder.

The seating arrangement was a battlefield, but Sunghoon had strategized. He maneuvered Heeseung to the armchair, shoved Jungwon and Karina to the beanbags, and left the sofa for the core trio: Jake on the far end, you in the middle, and himself rightfully claiming the spot on your right.

“So,” Jake asked, grabbing a slice of pepperoni. unimpressed at how Hoon was behaving, “what are we watching?”

Sunghoon took a deep breath. This was it—the ultimate sacrifice.

“The Grudge,” he announced, trying to keep his voice an octave lower than usual.

Jake froze mid-chew, looking at Sunghoon, then at the TV, then back at Sunghoon with wide, betrayed eyes, “bro, are you serious? You slept with the hallway light on for a week after we watched the trailer.”

“I did not! That was you,” Sunghoon lied through his teeth, grabbing the remote to stop Jake from exposing him further, “I crave the thrill now.”

You looked at him, impressed, leaning back into the cushions so your shoulder brushed against his, “woah, really? I love horror movies. I didn’t know you were brave like that, Hoon.”

Sunghoon preened under your praise, ignoring the way his heart was doing gymnastics, “I’m full of surprises.”

He pressed play, and the room plunged into heavy silence that only horror movies can manufacture, Sunghoon sat rigid, his spine glued to the cushions, his eyes locked on the screen, but his entire awareness was tunneled on you—tracking the way you absentmindedly chewed on the crust of your pizza, the way you leaned back, looking frustratingly calm, while his own heart was doing gymnastics against his ribs. Ten minutes in, the tension was unbearable, the protagonist walking down a dark, rotting hallway while the violins shrieked in that nausea-inducing crescendo, and Sunghoon’s palms were slick with sweat, his brain screaming at him to look away, but he couldn't, not when he had a mission.

Wait for the scare, wait for the flinch, be the fucking rock. Suddenly, the ghost appeared, a pale, contorted face filling the screen with a deafening, wet shriek.

“Ahhhhhh!”

A scream tore through the room, high and terrified—but it wasn’t you? It was Jake, who launched himself sideways, burying his face directly into your shoulder and clutching your arm like it was the last life raft on the Titanic.

“Turn it off! Turn it the fuck off! She’s gonna get me!” Jake wailed, vibrating with fear, effectively using you as a human shield against the fictional spirit.

You laughed, startled but amused, patting Jake’s head with fondness, “It’s just a jump scare, Jakey, breathe.”

Sunghoon sat frozen, his arm halfway raised in a pathetic imitation of a yawn, staring at the scene in absolute horror, because that was his shoulder, that was his moment, that was his Step 3 crumbling to dust before his eyes because his best friend had zero dignity. He glared at the top of Jake’s head, jealousy flaring hot and bright in his chest, a burning indignation that momentarily eclipsed his fear of the vengeful ghost.

“Get off her,” Sunghoon gritted out, voice laced with venom.

Jake lifted his head, eyes wide and teary, looking like a puppy, “shut up.”

“You’re crushing her,” Sunghoon lied through his teeth, reaching over to peel Jake’s fingers off your arm with surprising strength, his jaw tight, “sit up, Jake, have some self-respect, be a man.”

“You’re just jealous I got the safe spot,” Jake sniffled, retreating to the corner of the couch but keeping a hand on your sleeve just in case, pouting, and you chuckled, hiding your smile from Sunghoon.

Sunghoon bristled, turning back to the screen, determined to reclaim the moment, because the movie was building up to the next scare, the ghost crawling down the stairs with wet, cracking sounds that made his skin crawl. He lifted his arm yet again, fingers trembling slightly because he needed to be smooth, but he was scared. 

And on the screen, the ghost lunched right at the camera, and well, Sunghoon didn’t just scream, he fucking broke. Instead of casually putting an arm around you, he let out a strangled yelp and instinctively yanked you toward him, burying his face into the crook of your neck and wrapping both arms around you in a crushing embrace.

Silence filled the room, heavy and awkward, broken only by the screaming on the TV and Sunghoon’s heavy, erratic breathing against your collarbone.

You sat there, stunned, your face pressed against the soft cotton of Sunghoon’s t-shirt. You could smell his detergent—clean linen and something distinctly him—and feel the way his heart was hammering against your chest, the rhythm so fast it made your own pulse skip a beat. Butterflies erupted in your stomach, not from the fear of the movie, but from the sudden, overwhelming warmth of him surrounding you, his arms holding you like he never planned to let go—and of course, he had well defined muscles, you could feel it.

Jake paused his panic to look at Sunghoon, Jungwon stopped eating mid-chew, and Karina raised a judgmental eyebrow from the beanbag.

“Hoonie?” You whispered, your voice muffled against his chest, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks.

Sunghoon froze as the realization crashed down on him—he was hugging you. He was practically hiding in your neck and everyone was watching. He had failed Step 3 in the most spectacular way possible, yet—you felt so warm. You fit so perfectly against him—and it made him want to bite you? Abort, abort, abort. He slowly pulled his face away from your neck, but he didn’t let go of the hug, he looked down at you with wide, panicked eyes, his ears burning (again), searching your face for rejection.

“I—I got you,” he stammered, his voice cracking, trying to look heroic while his hands still trembled on your back, “I thought—I thought you were going to jump, so I—uh held you.” 

Everyone was baffled, and wondering how you even entertained Sunghoon through his outbursts, but they found fun in it, watching it unfold like some sitcom.

“Held me?” You repeated, eyebrows shooting up, though the amusement dancing in your eyes was soft, not mocking, “by trying to merge our ribcages?”

“It was a reflex,” he insisted, though the thought seemed wildly nice, before looking around the room, refusing to make eye contact with Jake, who was now grinning wickedly, “don’t overthink it.”

“I think he’s using you as a teddy bear,” Jungwon deadpanned from the floor, throwing a piece of popcorn at Sunghoon’s leg.

“Shut up,” Sunghoon hissed, but he tightened his arms around you just a fraction, pulling you back down so your head rested on his chest, “i’m protecting her. Look away.”

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you shifted closer until you were comfortably tucked against his side, listening to the rapid thumping of his heart slowing down to a steady, comforting rhythm. You wrapped an arm around his waist, grounding him, feeling the tension slowly leave his frame.

“It’s okay, my brave protector,” you whispered, looking up so your breath tickled his chin, “keep me safe.”

Sunghoon swallowed hard, resting his chin on top of your head, his face still burning. He stared straight ahead at the terrifying screen, absolutely petrified of the ghost, but thinking that maybe, just maybe, failing step 3 was better than succeeding. 

Because for the rest of the movie, he didn’t let go of you once, and every time you shifted, his hold only grew gentler, more possessive, and infinitely more real.

STEP SIX: Texting builds character

“You know—I don’t get it, it feels like mixed signals,” you sighed and Karina was baffled.

“What mixed signals? You’re as blind as him I swear,” she mumbles, shaking her head, “you both get such good grades but can’t navigate life, even if you’re a bit better at hiding your dumbass thoughts.”

“Aw thanks for the support,” you gasped in fake sweetness before sitting down next to her and sighing, “one second we are hugging and the other—radio silence, what even is going on?”

Karina sighed, finally glancing at you with a pitying look, “he’s just a guy. And guys are stupid. You look like a sad Victorian woman waiting for her husband to return from war.”

“Shut up,” you groaned. 

“Make him jealous, maybe he’ll act up again and confess for real,” she shrugged.

“Confess? Girl I don’t think he sees me that way, definitely just a friend.”

Karina couldn’t believe her ears, but she couldn’t be mean when you looked like a puppy now, just like Sunghoon. It was crazy how similar you both were, yet so different, but yes, you shared that same dumbness of not acknowledging the basic emotions you harboured. 

So when you got a text from Sunghoon, you were surprised, rushing into your room before Jungwon could comment on the odd look on your face. 

Meanwhile, Sunghoon sat in the library with his textbooks wide open, but he hadn’t read a word in twenty minutes. Instead, he was staring at his phone, his thumb hovering over the delete text button. On his laptop, hidden behind a PDF of organic chemistry notes (his elective), was the tab:

WikiHow: How to Flirt Over Text

Step 1: Be playful. Send a meme that relates to a shared interest or a current mood. Humor lowers defenses.

He had agonized over the image for ten minutes. Was it too weird? Too try-hard? He needed something that said I’m thinking about you without actually admitting that he was, indeed, obsessively thinking about you. He swallowed hard, his heart doing a nervous rhythm against his ribs. Just calm down, Park. It’s a meme, not a marriage proposal (might as well have been a marriage proposal for him).

On the other hand, you had thrown yourself onto your bed, buried yourself under the duvet to block out the world (and Jungwon, who was loudly gaming in the next room), and opened the chat to find a blurry, low-res picture of Psyduck clutching its head, eyes wide in some sort of existential horror. 

Hoonie: me looking at this chem assignment rn

A laugh bubbled up in your chest. It was so stupid, so random, and so him.

You: pleaseee You: that is literally you You: drama queen Hoonie: wow Hoonie: im suffering and this is the support i get? Hoonie: fake friend

It physically pained him to even type the word, however, the guide did say to start off slow, so here he was, biting his lip as he saw you typing, wondering if you’ll play along or be offended.

You: i’m a great friend btw You: i’m manifesting good grades for u from my bed

Three dots appeared for you, bubbling, then stopping, then bubbling again.

Hoonie: must be nice to be resting Hoonie: im starving actually

You stared at the screen, wondering if this conversation was going where you thought it was going cause he was starving, and well, you were starving (always).

You: same tbh You: i would kill for boba rn

The typing bubble appeared for a long time, then it disappeared. A moment later, an audio file appeared.

Hoonie: [Voice Message 0:08]

You fumbled to hit play, holding the phone pressed tight against your ear.

The background noise of the library was faint—the rustle of pages, a distant cough—but his voice was right there, as if he was whispering directly into the mic so the others wouldn’t hear. The intimacy of it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m practically dead here. I was gonna sneak out to that boba place near the campus—the one that’s still open? You should come. Save me from this chemistry nightmare.”

There was a pause, a small intake of breath, and then a softer, rather shy admission, “I’ll pay.”

Your heart slammed against your ribcage, because he wasn’t just texting, he was asking you out, at 11 PM, to get bubble tea. This was it, maybe he was trying to signal directly for the first time. You bit your lip to stop the grin spreading across your face and started typing furiously.

You: deal. give me 10 mins i’m com—

Ping.

Another text popped up before you could hit send.

Hoonie: jake and jay are coming too Hoonie: so yeah group thing, you can invite won and rina  Hoonie: ill be waiting

Your thumbs froze over the keyboard. The cursor blinked at the end of your unfinished sentence, of fucking course, it was a group thing. The excitement drained out of you like water from a cracked cup. It went from a date to a hangout in the span of three seconds.

Sunghoon stared at his phone, horror dawning on his face. He dropped his forehead onto the library table with a dull thud.

“You idiot,” he whispered to the wood grain, talking to himself, “why did you invite Jake? Jake hates tapioca pearls.”

He had panicked. The voice note had felt too intimate, way too real. The WikiHow guide had a warning in bold red text—don’t come on too strong or you’ll scare her off. In a split second of terror that you might say no, he had used Jake and Jay as some human shields. Now, staring at the chat, he realized he had ruined it.

Beside him, Jake looked up from his laptop, looking at the groupchat where Jungwon had confirmed that he’ll be joining (you had asked him and Rina in a grumpy tone), your supposed date now turning into the usual hangout.

“Bro, did you just invite us to get boba? I thought we were grinding until midnight?”

Sunghoon didn’t reply, simply standing up and grabbing Jake by the hoodie, as he dragged him into a—headlock.

“Ow! What the hell?” Jake yelped.

Meanwhile, you were staring at the text, contemplating throwing your phone across the room, when another notification popped up.

Jay 🦅 sent an image.

You frowned and opened it. It was a blurry, candid photo taken in the library. In the foreground, Sunghoon had Jake in a chokehold. Sunghoon’s face was buried in his arm, his ears bright red, looking equal parts frustrated and miserable. Jake looked like a flailing hostage.

Jay 🦅: hoon is having a breakdown idk  Rina: do i even ask if he’s okay anymore Hee: click more pics, ill need those Jun-gone: ,, why? Hee: science

You stared at the photo, at Sunghoon’s red ears and frustrated posture. The disappointment in your chest loosened, replaced by a sudden, warm laugh. So he had panicked. You grabbed your hoodie, the smile back on your face. 

Sunghoon groaned, because this step had failed, miserably so.

STEP SEVEN: Turn your failures into wins. 

The universe probably hated you, or maybe you were just dumb enough not to check in with Jake about Sunghoon’s availability in their dorms, cause somehow you found yourself there with a plan to game with the boys, Karina and Jungwon had joined in as well, which means everyone was there—everyone but Sunghoon.

“He’s at the library,” Jake had said, waving a controller dismissively as he selected a track on Mario Kart, “something about his thermodynamics assignment or whatever. I think he just forgot we were hanging out.”

So, you gamed. You played round after round, fueling yourself with soda and the competitive rage of losing to Jungwon three times in a row. But as the hours ticked by and the adrenaline crashed, the exhaustion of the week finally caught up to you. The shouting and the flashing lights of the TV became a blur as your eyes felt heavy, which is how you managed to fall asleep on the couch in this awkward position. No one bothered to wake you up.

“Leaving this to Sunghoon now,,” Jungwon muttered and Karina agreed once the session was over.

When Sunghoon finally unlocked the dorm door, the silence was jarring. He had spent the last five hours battling Carnot’s theorem, and his brain felt like mush. He expected to find a room full of pizza boxes and screaming friends. Instead, he found a dim room lit only by the standby light of the TV and Jake, who was scrolling on his phone in the armchair.

And then, he saw the couch. Sunghoon froze in the entryway, his keys still clutched in his hand. You were curled up in the corner of the beat-up sofa, cheek smushed against a throw pillow, looking comfortably disheveled, hair spilling over your face, and your soft, rhythmic breathing was the only sound in the room.  

Sunghoon felt his chest tighten, a warm feeling spreading through his ribcage. He stood there, staring, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be cool and composed. He just looked like a guy whose heart had decided to do gymnastics because a girl was sleeping on his furniture.  

“You’re late,” Jake whispered, not looking up from his phone, “we finished like an hour ago.”

Sunghoon blinked, the spell breaking slightly. He toed off his shoes, trying to be quiet, “I was studying.”

“Sure,” Jake snorted. He gestured with his chin toward the couch, “your turn to be the hero. Everyone else bailed.”

Sunghoon took a few steps closer, looking down at you—you looked so small, so peaceful. He wanted to reach out and fix the hair falling into your eyes, but his hands felt too big, too clumsy.  

“She’s asleep,” Sunghoon stated the obvious, his voice hushed.

“Comatose, actually,” Jake corrected, finally standing up and stretching his back, “Jungwon destroyed her in Smash Bros, seemed like she was distracted,” Jake looked at Sunghoon, then at you, and rolled his eyes, “don’t just stare at her, dude, you look like a creep.”

“I’m not staring,” Sunghoon whispered defensively, though his ears were already turning red.  

“Take her to your room,” Jake said, stifling a yawn.

Sunghoon choked on air, “my—what?”

“Your room,” Jake repeated slowly, as if talking to a toddler, “the couch is lumpy, and my room is not clean right now. Unless you want her waking up with me by her side.”

“That’s not happening,” Sunghoon muttered, a sudden wave of possessiveness washing over him at the thought of you waking up next to Jake, and truly, Sunghoon was a jealous man, something he did, “fine. I’ve got her.”  

“Don’t drop her,” Jake yawned, disappearing into his room without another glance.  

Sunghoon stood alone in the dim living room, staring at you. Okay, he just had to carry you, just hold you in his arms, simple—right? He crouched down, sliding one arm under your knees and the other behind your back. He expected it to be awkward, expected to trip over the rug, but as he lifted you, he realized you fit surprisingly well in his arms, mentally patting himself on the back for acting normal.

You shifted instinctively, your head lulling to rest against his chest, nose burying into the fabric of his shirt. Sunghoon’s breath hitched, cause god, he was doing it again, trying to get a whiff of your scent, and he was terrified you’d wake up and hear his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He walked carefully down the hall, navigating the darkness and kicked his bedroom door open with his foot. The room was cool, smelling of his detergent and books. He lowered you onto his bed and you sank into the mattress immediately. Sunghoon pulled away, his arms suddenly feeling empty and cold. He stood by the bed, watching you, his hand hovering uncertainly, caressing your cheek gently before he shook his head.

He retreated to the corner, sitting down on the desk chair as he tried to distract himself with physics yet again, but he stared at you for most of the time. Now, it was a big thing for Sunghoon who was pondering deeply—would things be like this if you were to date him? Would you sleep on his bed? Would you let him stay? He was preparing himself without even knowing much. He knew your favourites by heart now—coffee order, the type of pasta you preferred, the bands you’d been listening to. He had found your Spotify account, and he blushed when he saw you actually listening to EsDeeKid when he’d mentioned he liked it. 

It was the next step—be caring and attentive, but as much as he was following it, you were doing it too, without a guide, but yeah. There was no doubt he was down bad, he wanted you—needed you. But he was willing to wait, as for now, he was more than content watching you sleep on his bed (he’s not being creepy he swears—although he has done some questionable stuff before). He didn’t register much, especially the time, or the way you were shifting in your sleep.

“Hoon?” You whispered, your voice a small, happy to see him before you gathered your surroundings—it was Hoon’s room, he carried you inside.

Sunghoon jumped so violently his chair creaked, spinning around with wide eyes behind his lenses. He immediately tried to fix his posture, reaching for that composed shield, but he looked too drained to maintain it.  

“Hey,” he breathed, his voice deep and rough from disuse.  

He stood up and walked over to the bed, his strides careful as if he were afraid to startle you. He reached out, his hand hovering near your shoulder for a heartbeat before he gently grasped the corner of the duvet that had slipped. He tucked it back into place, his fingers lingering agonizingly close to your skin. You saw his knuckles twitch, the silent battle to touch your cheek written in the tension of his jaw, but he clenched his hand into a fist and pulled back.  

“You okay? Wanna go back to sleep? It’s late,” he said softly, his eyes reflecting the dim lamp light, “It’s late.”  

“You should sleep too,” you murmured mindlessly, reaching out from under the covers to catch his wrist.  

Sunghoon froze, his breath hitching as he stared down at your hand against his skin. The heat of the touch was instant, and he stood rooted to the spot, trapped by the gentle pressure of your fingers.  

“I will,” he lied, his voice barely a whisper, not moving an inch until you finally let go, his pulse still hammering where your fingers had been.  

You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes as you realized the time, and even if yo didn’t want to, you said it, “I should probably go back to my dorm. I didn’t mean to take over your bed.”

Sunghoon looked at his desk, then back at you, a conflict of interest clear in his eyes, “It’s raining really hard,” he noted, his voice dropping to a low murmur.  

“So—” you teased softly, the remnants of sleep making you bolder, “should I stay?”

He looked at you, his brain likely running through a twelve-step response plan, but he settled for a slow shake of his head, “I—I’ll walk you back,” he managed, his ears turning a bright crimson because he doesn’t trust himself alone with you, especially at night—especially when you say things like that, “I have an umbrella.”

You chuckled, watching him move around—you always felt so helpless especially when he looked so soft. He was so incredibly caring, and you couldn’t even deny that you wanted more, as selfish as it might sound.

The walk back was quiet, the black canopy creating a tiny, private world for the two of you as you splashed through the puddles. He walked close, his shoulder brushing yours, his hand steady on the handle to make sure you stayed dry while he took the brunt of the mist. When you reached your door, you didn’t just wave, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a firm, warm hug, your emotions taking over. Sunghoon went rigid for a microsecond before his arms wound around you, pulling you into the warmth of his chest naturally now. He rested his chin on the top of your head, inhaling sharply, wishing the night didn’t have to end.

“Goodnight, Hoonie,” you whispered against his heart.  

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he rasped back, watching you head inside with a gaze that was far from neutral.

It was hard to let go, he pulled you to him harder, sighing as his hands caressed your sides, and you almost whined when he put just the slightest amount of pressure before he actually let go—eyes darker than ever, as if he was having just as hard time as you if not more.  

He walked back feeling emptier than ever, wondering what could have happened if he had asked you to stay. Would you have wrapped your arms around him the same way? Would you let him cuddle you to sleep—to kiss you goodnight or more? 

“God,” he mumbled, finally reaching his room again and getting on his bed.

His phone chimed just then, and he frowned because who would text him this late? Mouth opening wide when he saw your notification, a picture attachment. He was scared to open it, and rightfully so. He threw his phone away with a gasp, cause no way—no fucking way you sent him your picture, on your bed, in your tank top that did nothing to hide your cleavage. He’d been doing so well, holding on so well, only to shatter at the sight of you, smiling that easy smile of yours. 

Y/N-nie: thanks for tonight hoonie, sleep well 💗

Sleep? No. He grabbed the phone and managed to type a response, saving your picture as he stared deeply at the slight dimple on your face, that one mole which was barely visible—but he wanted to kiss it. The way your clavicle looked so inviting wasn’t helping his case. Was he actually getting turned on at the mere sight of what you could offer him? Yes, he was. 

“No—no I can’t do this to her—no,” he mumbled, grabbing his hardening cock through the sweatpants, “pathetic,” he breathed out.

He sat back against the headboard, the air in the room feeling thick and heavy. His breath was coming in short, uneven hitches, and he couldn’t stop the frustrated sound that caught in his throat as he looked back down at the screen. The blue light washed over his face, highlighting the sheer desperation in his eyes as he took in every detail of the photo again. His hand tightened, the fabric of his sweatpants offering little relief against the insistent, pulsing ache. He felt like he was losing a war with himself. Every time he tried to blink you away, the image of that tank top and your soft, teasing smile felt like it was burned into his retinas.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he choked out, his voice a low, wrecked rasp, “you have to be.”

He shifted, his body reacting to the mental image of being there with you, of seeing that smile in person instead of through a cold glass screen. The tension was coiled so tight in his gut it was almost painful. He palmed himself again, a desperate, clumsy movement born out of a total lack of control, his head falling back against the wall with a dull thud as he freed himself, wrapping his big hand around his leaking cock, groaning louder by the second. Just the image of you, the scent of you on his bed drove him into madness as he pumped himself, praying that his flatmates wouldn’t hear him. 

Thrusting his hips up, he chased that feeling, delving deeper into the thoughts of you no matter how embarrassed he was at the situation, he couldn’t help but imagine your soft fingers wrapped around his cock, your pretty eyes looking up at him, calling him hoonie.

“Fuck—need you.”

He would kiss you so deeply, be so close to you so you’d breathe the same air, he’d touch you even softly—god you’d look so pretty arching into him. He gripped himself harder, wondering if you’d like him being so soft with you, wondering if you’d let him taste you, wondering if you’d want him as bad as he wants you.

Would he be soft with you? He’s pretty sure he’d lose control and come off too strong, and maybe you’d like seeing him take control. The image of you moaning his name, pulling him closer and into your pretty pussy—yeah, that had him stroking himself harder, groaning out your name, each sound rougher than the last.

Yes, it was embarrassing how fast his body gave in, thick ropes of cum staining his bed sheet and sweats as he focused on his breathing with his eyes closed, “so fucking pathetic,” he mumbled.

He isn’t sure his step worked out, but he knew one thing—he had never felt such an insane surge of pleasure before.

STEP EIGHT: Mission abort

Guilty.

That was all what Sunghoon felt after waking up—because how did he even manage to get hard at an innocent picture of you? It didn’t matter now, he had fucked up, and now he stood in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth, contemplating his choices. First—he can go out and continue acting as if nothing happened, or second—he can hide in his room and stay locked away forever and ever. The latter seemed very tempting, but that also meant he’d never see you again—the absolute love of his life.

The idea itself was so haunting, that he had no option but to jump in his room, hyping himself for the next meeting—which he was orchestrating by asking Jungwon about your schedule (again), and he was relieved to hear that you were in the library, alone. Maybe he would feel better if he gets to talk to you one on one, since that opportunity has been rare (happened twice and he was struggling). So, he wore a nice button up, parted his hair to the side, sprayed a decent amount of cologne—all while Jake stared at him, amused.

“Are you gonna ask her out?”

Hoon flinched, “Gosh—why don’t you guys ever knock?” He mumbled, pouting a little.

“I’m just going to the library,” Sunghoon deflected, turning back to the mirror to fix a strand of hair that was already perfect, “to study. Alone.”

“Right,” Jake snorted, not looking up from his phone, “just don’t trip on your way to Y/N.”

Sunghoon ignored him, grabbed his wallet, and marched out the door with the grim determination of a soldier going into battle—albeit one armed with a debit card and a crippling fear of rejection. He made a strategic detour to the campus café, the one you swore had the best blueberry cheesecake in the city. He ordered a slice to go and your favorite iced vanilla latte, his brain reciting the text he had highlighted on his laptop screen earlier.

Step 9: Surprise them with small gestures.

Bringing them their favorite snack or drink shows that you listen and that you care about their comfort. It creates a positive association with your presence.

“I listen,” Sunghoon whispered to himself as he carefully balanced the cardboard carrier and the pastry box against the biting wind, “I am a great listener, I am thoughtful, I can do it.”

He felt good, today, he was the guy in the button-up bringing coffee. He had upgraded himself to the romantic lead of a rom-com, from the previous indie movie actor. He reached the library, navigating the quiet rows of books with a newfound confidence. He knew exactly where to find the Biology section—the corner table by the window, he rounded the corner, a rehearsed casual greeting on his lips—Oh, hey, just happened to be in the neighborhood with pastries—but the words died in his throat.

You were there, just like Jungwon said, however, the composition of the scene was wrong. Sitting beside you, occupying the space Sunghoon had mentally reserved for himself, was a guy. Sunghoon didn’t know him, but he immediately felt a surge of irrational hostility. The guy wasn’t wearing a stiff button-up or drowning in expensive cologne. He was wearing a faded, oversized hoodie, leaning back in his chair with a maddening, effortless slouch that made Sunghoon nervous.

Sunghoon froze behind a stack of anatomy encyclopedias, clutching the cheesecake box so hard the cardboard buckled under his thumb.

“If you skew the standard deviation any further, this becomes a guessing game, not a lab report,” the guy said, tapping his pen against your screen.

You laughed and it wasn’t the polite, reserved chuckle you gave strangers, It was the unguarded, head-thrown-back laugh that you provided Hoon with. You nudged the guy’s shoulder playfully.

“We gotta optimize the data, Jaemin,” you teased, “look at that bell curve. It’s beautiful.”

Jaemin grinned, looking at you with a familiarity that made Sunghoon’s stomach drop, “so what? You can’t just gaslight E. Coli into fitting your hypothesis.”

Sunghoon looked down at himself. He saw the carefully ironed shirt, the polished shoes, the thoughtful surprise that suddenly felt like a desperate bribe. He felt like a caricature—a man masquerading as a romantic lead while the actual protagonist was sitting right there in a beat-up hoodie, speaking your language, making you laugh about bacteria without even trying.

The WikiHow guide hadn’t prepared him for this. It had steps for flirting, steps for eye contact, steps for mirroring body language, it didn’t have a step for watching the girl you like shine brightly at someone else, unaware that he was even in the room. He turned on his heel, the movement sharp and painful. He walked back toward the exit, his pace quickening until he was practically fleeing the scene, the cheerful chime of the library door mocking him as he stepped out into the biting wind. Sunghoon had never been good with jealousy, and right now, he wanted nothing more than to pull you away from the guy and kiss you right there, god he’d do so much just to prove a point, but no—he had to stay calm, for now at least, and leaving was the only option.

The chime of the door made you look up from your laptop. The smile that had been on your face while joking with Jaemin faded instantly as you checked your phone for the fifth time in ten minutes. The screen still displayed the last text from Jungwon—he’s on his way, said he has a surprise. You frowned, your brows knitting together as you scanned the entrance, but there was no one there. The library was quiet, devoid of the tall, clumsy boy you had been hoping to see.

“Everything okay?” Jaemin asked, noticing your shift in mood.

“Yeah,” you sighed, dropping your phone face-down on the table with a dull thud of disappointment, “I just thought—never mind. Back to the assignment.”

Outside, Sunghoon sat on a secluded concrete bench, oblivious to the fact that you had been looking for him. He placed the cooling coffee on the ground and opened the pastry box.

“I hate blueberry,” he muttered, picking up the plastic fork with shaking fingers.

He ate the cheesecake aggressively, he felt ridiculous, he was a grown man sitting in the cold eating a cake meant for a girl who was currently laughing about standard deviations with someone else, all because he needed an internet article to tell him how to be a human being.  

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, the tab was still open:

WikiHow: How to flirt with a pretty girl (with pictures).

He stared at the cheerful illustrations, the bullet points that promised success if he just followed the formula, it all looked so hollow now, so sterile. 

“Stupid,” he hissed. He closed the tab, closing the browser next before he cleared his history, as if scrubbing the evidence of his own incompetence.

He was done. He was done treating you like a puzzle to be solved with cheat codes. Watching you with Jaemin had triggered something visceral in him—not just jealousy, but a terrifying clarity. He didn’t want to be the guy who surprised you with coffee because a website told him to, he wanted to be the guy who could make you laugh like that naturally

“Tomorrow,” he said to the empty bench, tossing the empty cake box into the trash with a decisive thud. 

The end-of-semester party was tomorrow night, everyone would be there. There would be no scripts, no steps, no hiding behind Jake or a stack of books.

“I’m just going to tell her,” he decided, the wind ruffling his carefully parted hair, “I’m going to walk up to her, and I’m going to tell her. No more steps.”

He stood up, wiping a crumb from his lip. He felt terrified, he also felt nauseous, but for the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel like a project—he felt like Sunghoon.

And Sunghoon was going to confess to you.

STEP NINE: Be yourself (or not)

“Why am I wearing this again?” You asked as Karina stood behind you, zipping up your dress—which was beautiful, however, Karina wasn’t the one to instruct you on your dressing choices.

“Cause I’m fed up of you and Hoon being dumb, maybe this will make him realize what he’s been missing,” she muttered, making you roll your eyes.

“He didn’t even show up at the library, Rin. I think the message is pretty clear—and just when I thought we were actually going somewhere, especially with how sweet he was when I slept at his dorm,” you mumbled, smoothing down the fabric, “he’s not interested.”

“Or,” Karina countered, spinning you around to face the mirror, “he’s an idiot who got lost in his own head. Look at you girl—If Park Sunghoon doesn’t lose his mind tonight, he’s officially clinically dead.”

You stared at your reflection, and you felt nervous, thinking of backing out now, but Karina was already shoving a purse into your hands and dragging you out the door before you could overthink it. The frat house was vibrating before you even stepped inside. The bass rattled your teeth, and the air was thick with the scent of cheap beer and humidity. It was the kind of scene Sunghoon usually avoided, or endured by standing in the back looking bored and devastatingly handsome.

You scanned the room instinctively, your eyes darting over the sea of bobbing heads and red Solo cups, but the familiar silhouette of broad shoulders and perfectly styled dark hair was nowhere to be found. You told yourself you weren’t looking for him, that you were here to dance and forget about the odds, but your subconscious was a traitor. Every time the door opened, letting in a blast of cold air and fresh bodies, your heart did a hopeful little stutter in your chest, only to sink when it wasn’t him.

“He’s not here,” Karina shouted over the thumping bass, reading your mind with terrifying accuracy. She handed you a drink that smelled like fruit punch, “stop looking. If he shows up, he shows up. If he doesn’t, it’s his loss. Now come on, they’re playing that song you like.”

You let her drag you onto the makeshift dance floor, the sticky residue of spilled beer gripping the soles of your shoes. You tried to lose yourself in the rhythm, to let the vibrations of the music rattle the anxiety out of your bones, but the knot in your stomach remained tight. Thirty minutes later, you started feeling odd. It was subtle at first—a ripple of whispers, heads turning toward the entryway. You were by the kitchen island, trying to cool down with a cup of water, when you saw him.

Park Sunghoon had arrived.

And he wasn’t alone; Jake was flanking him like a bodyguard, but Sunghoon didn’t look like he needed protection. He looked—different, gone were the oversized, comforting hoodies. Tonight, he was wearing all black—a fitted shirt that somehow emphasized the sharp line of his jaw and dark jeans that made his legs look miles long. He wasn’t checking his phone, he didn’t even bother scanning the room with that panicked, deer-in-headlights look he usually wore, he looked focused, determined even.  

He stood near the entrance, declining a drink offered by a hopeful sophomore, his eyes now cutting through the haze of the party as if he was looking for someone.

“Target acquired,” Jake muttered into Sunghoon’s ear, nudging him hard enough that Sunghoon stumbled a step forward, breaking his cool facade for a second.

Sunghoon followed Jake’s gaze and locked onto you instantly. The noise of the party seemed to fade into white noise for him. You were standing under the harsh kitchen light, the dress Karina picked hugging your frame, looking absolutely breathtaking and terrifyingly out of his league. He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he started to move toward you, his strides long and purposeful.

But before he could reach the kitchen island, you turned abruptly, intercepted by a group of girls who grabbed your arm and pulled you and Karina towards the back hallway—the one usually reserved for coats and couples looking for privacy. You looked confused, casting one last glance over your shoulder, but the crowd swallowed Sunghoon’s view of you.

“Where is she going?” Sunghoon frowned, the panic starting to creep back in.

“Looks like interrogation,” Jake said, squinting, “uh-oh—that’s the gossip squad. Come on.”

Sunghoon didn’t need to be told twice. He followed you, weaving through the sweaty bodies, Jake trailing close behind. They reached the entrance of the narrow, dimly lit hallway just as the voices drifted out. Sunghoon raised a hand to stop Jake, pressing his back against the wall just outside the hallway entrance. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the sound of his own name froze him in place.

“So, be honest,” a voice purred, that made the hair on the back of Sunghoon's neck stand up, “are you his next target?”

Sunghoon froze. He looked at Jake, whose eyes had gone wide, his hand hovering over Sunghoon’s shoulder as if to restrain him. He knew the bullshit the girls used to spew about them, but actually cornering you was concerning.

“Target?” your voice rang out, incredulous, “what are you even talking about?”

“Oh, come on,” the girl laughed, “we know the type. He puts on that whole innocent act, standing in the corner looking all bored and mysterious, but it’s just a trap, right? I heard he’s actually wild. That he has a whole rotation of girls and he just plays the quiet card to lure you in.”  

“Yeah,” another voice chimed in, “he looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing. A total player, my friend says he’s dangerous, he had a go at her.”

Sunghoon felt a strange, conflicting tightness in his chest. Part of him—the part that had spent hours reading WikiHow articles on how to be cool—held his breath. He didn’t wish to be perceived as a player, obviously, but he desperately wanted to be seen as a man, someone capable. He waited, heart hammering against his ribs, hoping you would defend him by saying he was respectful, or intense, or maybe even just—cool.

Instead, he heard you scoff, as if you were offended, “dangerous?” You repeated, the word sounding ridiculous in your mouth, “Park Sunghoon? Are you guys blind?”

“Excuse me?” the girl sounded taken aback.

“He isn’t a fuckboy,” you snapped, your voice rising in defense of him, fueled by the protective anger of someone who knew the truth, and you’d been on edge all day, which made Karina look at you with concern, wondering where this is going, “he’s barely even a guy in the way you’re thinking. He’s—he’s so innocent, you’re just tainting his image.”

The word hung in the dank hallway air. Innocent. Sunghoon felt the color drain from his face.

“Innocent?” the girl challenged, “with that face? Please.”

“I’m serious,” you insisted, stepping closer to them, your voice softening into a tone that sounded painfully, devastatingly like pity to Sunghoon’s ears, “he’s not mysterious, he’s just shy, he doesn’t have a roster, he has a skincare routine that has twelve steps. He drinks banana milk because he thinks coffee makes him too jittery sometimes.”  

Sunghoon squeezed his eyes shut. Stop, he begged silently. Please, just stop. But you were on a roll, determined to clear his name of these vile accusations, unaware that you were simultaneously dismantling his entire romantic potential, making him feel as if you never saw him as something beyond someone who was just clumsy and cute, as if you didnt see him as a guy after all, as if he couldn’t what—fuck you? 

“He’s not like that, okay? He’s like—a puppy,” you said, and fondness in your voice went unnoticed by Hoon, “a newborn puppy on ice. He trips over his own feet when he gets excited. He’s clumsy and sweet and completely harmless.”  

Harmless. The word echoed in Sunghoon’s skull, drowning out the thumping bass of the party. Harmless, safe, a puppy. Yes, you were defending him but—he couldn’t even thank you for that, simply wondering what would have happened if he actually confessed. Would you have laughed in his face and called him just a friend?

Jake slowly turned to look at Sunghoon. The amusement was gone from his face, replaced by a cringe of profound sympathy. He looked at Sunghoon’s white knuckles, at the devastation etched into the sharp lines of his jaw.

“Dude,” Jake whispered, reaching out to touch his arm.

Sunghoon felt like he couldn’t breathe. He had wanted to be the protagonist. He had wanted to be the protector, the one who held you during horror movies. He wanted you to see him as a man who could sweep you off your feet. And all this time, you didn’t see him as a man at all. You saw him as a loser, you didn’t look at him with desire—you looked at him with the same fondness one might have for a particularly incompetent golden retriever.

“Let’s go,” Sunghoon whispered, his voice hollow and scraping against his throat.

“But—you were gonna tell her—”

“I said let’s go.”

Sunghoon didn’t wait for Jake. He pushed off the wall, turning his back on the hallway where you were passionately defending his lack of masculinity. He moved through the crowd blindly, shoving past sweaty bodies, the bass pounding in his ears mocking the frantic, broken rhythm of his heart. He felt small and stupid. He felt like the massive loser he feared he was.  

He burst out of the front door into the cold night air, gasping as if he had been drowning. He didn’t look back, he couldn’t. He just walked, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the girl who thought he was a loser.

STEP TEN: Accepting defeat

Radio silence. 

You had never felt this agitated in your life, never missed someone so much in your life. It had been over a week and you hadn’t seen Sunghoon, and the worst part? You didn’t even know what was wrong, was he just ignoring you or was it the same for others as well? You could have sworn he was at the party, and as soon as you were done with the girls, you had come out to search for him, only to feel his absence even further.

You checked your phone again, hoping to see a reply but no.

You: are you okay hoonie? You: jake said you are sick

Those were the texts you had sent five days back, but you didn’t stop there.

You: is everything okay? You: hoon? You: did i do something wrong

He hadn’t even read it, simply left you on delivered. The lack of response resulted in a physical ache in your chest. You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the last week in your head. Had you been too clingy? Had the hug outside the dorm been too much? Or maybe, just maybe, those girls were right, and he had simply decided he was bored of his current toy.

No, you thought, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow. He’s not like that—he’s Sunghoon. He’s the guy who covers you with umbrellas and brings you coffee. He’s the guy who looked at you like you were the only person in the room. But if he was that guy, then where was he? The uncertainty was gnawing at you, turning your usual confidence into a frayed mess of nerves. You missed his awkwardness. You missed his sudden bursts of confidence followed by immediate regret. You missed the way he made you feel like you were safe.

Across campus, inside the dorm that smelled of despair, Park Sunghoon was currently lying face-down on the living room rug. He hadn’t moved in twenty minutes. Inside his head, it was a funeral. He was eulogizing his manhood, his romantic prospects, and his dignity. The word echoed in the cavern of his skull—harmless, harmless, harmless.

“Are you going to rot there all day?” A voice asked from above.

Sunghoon groaned, refusing to look up, “leave me alone, Jay. I’m decomposing.”

“You’re blocking the path to the kitchen,” Jay said, nudging Sunghoon’s ribs with his foot, “and you’ve been listening to sad bollywood playlists for three days straight when you don’t even understand the lyrics.”

“Let him rot,” Jake’s voice drifted in from the couch, though it lacked his usual biting sarcasm, “he’s mourning the death of his ego.”

Sunghoon shot up, sitting cross-legged on the rug with a sudden, frantic energy. His hair was a mess, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

“I’m not mourning my ego,” Sunghoon snapped, though his voice cracked, betraying him instantly, “I’m facing the fucking reality. She called me innocent, Jake. She told them I wasn’t shit.”

“She did not say that dude, she was defending you, you idiot,” Jay interjected, leaning against the doorframe with a dish towel in hand, “I wasn’t even there, and even I know that. Jake told me the whole story.”

“She defended me by neutering me!” Sunghoon argued, the humiliation burning fresh in his chest, “She told them I am clumsy—which is true but—she sees me as a child, Jay. You don’t date children, you babysit them."  

“She literally meant she’s comfy with you,” Jake tried to reason, sitting up. 

“I don’t want to be comfortable,” Sunghoon hissed, standing up and pacing the small room, “I wanted to be—I don’t know, someone she actually desires.”

He felt foolish for even trying. The button-up shirts, the cologne, the WikiHow articles—it was all just dressing up a golden retriever in a tuxedo. At the end of the day, you saw right through it. You saw the clumsy, anxious mess underneath and decided he was something to be coddled.  

“Okay, enough,” Jay decided, tossing the dish towel onto the counter, “you're spiraling. Put on shoes, we’re going to get food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Nobody asked,” Jay said, grabbing his keys, “Jake, grab his other arm.”

Despite his protests, Sunghoon was manhandled into a jacket and dragged out of the dorm. He walked with his head down, hands shoved deep into his pockets, reverting to his resting bitch face now, not because he wanted to look cool, but because he wanted to disappear. They made it to the campus plaza, the wind biting at Sunghoon’s cheeks. He was busy staring at a crack in the pavement, plotting his transfer to a university on a different continent, when Jake elbowed him.

“Hoon—look.”

Sunghoon looked up to find you walking out of the convenience store, laughing at something Karina was saying. You looked tired, your eyes a little puffy as if you’d cried, but the moment you spotted the trio, your face transformed and his heart hurt—it actually hurt. The worry on your face vanished, replaced by a radiant, relieved smile. You took a step toward him, your eyes locking onto his with that familiar warmth. You looked so happy to see him. And that broke him.

Because to Sunghoon, that smile didn’t look like love. It looked like relief of finding a close friend or something similar (he truly had been blind—an overthinker self sabotaging himself). He couldn’t take it, he couldn’t stand there and be the recipient of your pity.

“Hoon?” You called out from a distance, your voice hopeful.

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened and he didn’t wave, didn’t smile back, he didn’t even acknowledge the greeting. He turned his head sharply, breaking eye contact, and walked right back towards his dorm.

“Sunghoon?” Jake hissed, grabbing at his sleeve, “what the fuck are you doing? She’s right there.”

Sunghoon ripped his arm away from Jake’s grip, “I’m going back,” he muttered, his voice cold and flat.

He walked away, leaving you standing on the pavement with your hand half-raised, the smile sliding off your face. You watched his retreating back, the way his shoulders were hunched against the wind. Confusion washed over you first—had he not seen you? But no, he had looked you dead in the eye. He had seen your relief, your joy at seeing him alive, and he had looked at you with something that looked disturbingly like resentment. He just—walked away.

The confusion hardened into something sharper. You had spent a week worrying, heck, you had been crying over him. You had defended him to those girls, you had sent texts that went unanswered, you had lost sleep wondering if he was okay. And he just walked away without even doing as much as acknowledging you.

“Okay,” you whispered to the empty air, lowering your hand, “okay, Park Sunghoon, be that way.”

If he wanted to act like you didn’t exist after everything, fine. You turned back to Karina, your eyes dry and your expression steely, “let’s go,” you said, your voice devoid of the warmth you had reserved for him, “I’m done.”

You started walking as Karina looked back, glaring at Jay as if he could’ve done something—anything, but he was just as frozen, standing with Jake who could feel a headache forming in his head.

“The fuck just happened?” Jake asked, and Jay shook his head.

“Two of the nicest people I’ve met are acting like emotionless mannequins,” Jay mumbled, “I’ve never seen him like this.”

“He doesn’t realize that Y/N meant well—even if the way she worded it hit him hard, can he stop being so difficult? Did he not see how happy she was to see him?”

“Well—now what?”

Jake shook his head with a sigh, “we suffer—all of us.”

And suffer you did.

The days that followed didn’t feel like time passing; they felt like a slow, suffocating slide into permafrost. The end-of-semester exams descended upon the campus providing the perfect, miserable backdrop for two people who were determined to freeze each other out.

The party was a distant, feverish memory, replaced by the stark reality of the library and 24-hour study halls. But if anyone thought the pressure of finals would distract you from the hollow ache in your chest, they were wrong. If anything, the silence of the study rooms only made the noise in your head louder.

You became efficient, terrifyingly so. You attended every lecture, submitted every lab report early, and sat in the front row with a posture so rigid it looked painful. You didn’t laugh with Jaemin anymore, in fact, you barely spoke to anyone outside of necessary academic exchanges. You were over it, you told yourself, you were busy. You had a GPA to maintain and a future to build, and neither of those things required a boy who treated your concern like an insult.

But Karina knew better. She saw the way your eyes lingered on the back of a black hoodie in the cafeteria before snapping away. She saw the way you checked your phone every time it vibrated, only to toss it aside with a scowl when it wasn’t him.

Across the quad, Sunghoon was disintegrating in his own way. He moved through the campus like a ghost, his headphones permanently glued to his ears—though half the time, nothing was playing. He just didn’t want to hear the world asking him if he was okay. He studied, or at least, he tried, staring at thermodynamics equations until the Greek letters started to look like your initials. He sat in the library—not at your table, never at your table—but in the far back corner, hidden behind the stacks. He told himself he was proving a point (he didnt even know what anymore). 

But every time he drank black coffee (which he still hated) instead of banana milk, he felt a little piece of himself wither. He missed the warmth, he missed the way you used to look at him before he ruined it. Now, when you passed each other in the corridor, the air temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. There were no shy glances, no blushing ears. Just two strangers walking past each other with aggressive apathy, while their mutual friends trailed behind, looking like they wanted to scream.

“It’s like watching a car crash,” Jake whispered to Jungwon one afternoon in the library. They were watching Sunghoon stare blankly at a blank Word document.

“Worse,” Jungwon muttered, eyeing you across the room where you were aggressively highlighting a textbook without actually reading it, “It’s like watching two cars almost crashing but never quite reaching there, being stubborn and all.”

The tension came to a head on Tuesday night. The library was packed, the air thick with the smell of stress and stale caffeine. You were printing a paper, waiting for the machine to finish, when Sunghoon walked up to the adjacent printer. You didn’t look at him and he didn’t look at you (he did, and he swore under his breath seeing how pretty you looked wearing that skirt he loved).

The silence between you was louder than the whirring of the machines. You could smell him—that damn cologne and clean laundry, and it made your eyes sting. You wanted to scream, you wanted to ask him why he was being such a coward, you wanted to hug him—kiss him. 

Sunghoon stood rigid, his knuckles white as he gripped his folder. He could see you in his peripheral vision. You looked tired, he wanted to ask if you were sleeping. He wanted to offer you his jacket because the library was freezing, but the word harmless flashed in his mind like a warning sign. She doesn’t want you, his brain supplied unhelpfully. She pities you.

Your printer beeped and you snatched your papers.

“Excuse me,” you said, your voice polite, as you stepped around him.

“Sure,” he replied, his voice equally flat.

You walked away without looking back. Sunghoon watched you go, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs that had absolutely nothing to do with physics and everything to do with the fact that he was miserably, hopelessly in love with the girl he was currently pretending to hate.

“I hate it here,” Jake groaned from a nearby table, dropping his head onto his open textbook, “I really, really hate it here.”

STEP ELEVEN: Let jealousy take the wheel 

“Oh she looks beautiful!”

Jake and Jay kept on cooing, staring at the pictures Jungwon was showing them—pictures of you. Well, since the end sems were over, Karina had decided to do a mini photo shoot with you and Jungwon, and since it wasn’t really a request, you had to comply.

Sunghoon was on the couch, heart hammering at the praises, but he didn’t (couldn’t) ask Jungwon to show him the pictures, which only made Jake compliment you harder. Jungwon shook his head, absolutely done with whatever was going on, he started screen sharing so the pictures would appear on the TV, and Sunghoon tried his best not to look up, but he did. For the first time in a while, his friends could see his eyes shining. You looked beautiful—you always did, and good lord, Sunghoon missed you—cursing himself for behaving exactly how a child would.

He stared more, it was a pretty picture of you sitting on the grass and smiling—however, it didn’t reach your eyes. Sunghoon wondered who were you smiling at, granted Karina was sitting on the other side of you. He saw a hand, a hand that did not look like Jungwon’s hand, and he felt even more nauseous at the image of some other man being there and making you smile.

You had been so detached from reality, you didn’t understand it—you hadn’t processed just how attached you’d felt to Sunghoon, only for him to switch up midway, and you wondered how he was taking it.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up abruptly, muttering something about needing water, and retreated to the sanctuary of his room.

“The kitchen is that way, Hoon,” Jay pointed out helpfully, gesturing in the opposite direction.

“My room,” Sunghoon corrected, not breaking stride, “I have—water in my room.”

He sat on the edge of his bed, taking his MacBook out as he opened the one site that had guided him (poorly) through this entire semester—WikiHow.

He started typing, what to do when you’ve ruined everything with the girl you love and she thinks you’re a child.

No results.

He didn’t give up, trying to find variants, how to fix a relationship when you ghosted her out of insecurity.

The algorithm struggled. Finally, he clicked the same one he’d been following all along—how to flirt with a pretty girl (with pictures). He scrolled past the ads to the last step which said—If it doesn’t work out: accept that it’s over. If she says no or seems distant, respect her space and move onto a new girl.

Sunghoon stared at the screen. Move on to a new girl.

He slammed the laptop shut, he couldn’t do that. The mere thought of looking at someone else, of trying to memorize someone else’s coffee order or the way they laughed, made him feel physically ill. He didn’t want new, he wanted you. He wanted the girl who called him Hoonie and defended him, even if her defense had shattered his ego into a million pieces, and he hid instead of proving her wrong. 

He buried his face in his hands, he couldn’t move on, but he didn’t know how to move back.

Back in the living room, the atmosphere had shifted from admiration to, well, tactical planning.

“He’s hopeless,” Jake said, staring at the closed door of Sunghoon’s room, “did you see his face? He looked like a kicked puppy again.”

“We can’t keep doing this,” Jay agreed, leaning back and crossing his arms, “the atmosphere in this dorm is insane. Sunghoon is miserable, Y/N is miserable, and I’m tired of hearing sad playlists through the wall I swear—they need to fuck it out.”

Jungwon disconnected his phone from the TV, a determined look on his face (before he gave Jay an odd look, of course), “we need to force them into the same room.”

“How?” Jake asked, “Hoon won’t leave his room unless the building is on fire.”

“A party,” Jungwon said simply, “Beomgyu texted. They’re throwing a massive end of Exams bash in the Grand Suite downstairs like two days later, it’s the biggest dorm and everyone is going.”

“Sunghoon hates parties,” Jay pointed out.

“Exactly,” Jungwon smirked, “which is why we aren’t asking him—we’re dragging him.”

“And Y/N?”

“Karina is already on it,” Jungwon said, holding up his phone to show a text confirmation, “she’s bringing Y/N. The plan is simple honestly, just get them in the room. If they see each other, they’ll have to interact—if Y/N doesn’t break, Hoon sure will.”

“Sounds risky but okay,” Jake muttered. 

“Well, do we have any other options?” Jay asked, only to be met with silence, “great, then operation—get them to fuck is a go.”

“I don’t really like the operation name—”

“—Leave the styling to me,” Jay said, spinning the keys around his finger as he headed for the door, his mission clear, “I’m going to the mall. He needs an edge. I’m getting him a leather jacket—”

Jake and Jungwon shook their head, hoping it will work out for the better. 

STEP TWELVE: Grand romantic (?) gesture 

“I’m not going,” you mumbled, staring at La La Land playing on your MacBook (again), and you knew well you were torturing yourself, calling it your coping mechanism. 

Karina sighed, “you need to let loose, it’s not the end of the world,” she muttered, snapping the laptop shut, “and watching Emma Stone get her heart broken for the fifth time this week isn’t going to fix yours.”

“It’s not broken,” you lied, rolling over and burying your face into the pillow to muffle the waver in your voice, “It’s just—bruised. Badly.”

It felt like more than a bruise, though. It felt like a phantom limb ache—a nagging, persistent sensation of something missing that should have been there. It had been days of absolute radio silence from Sunghoon. No awkward texts or Pokémon memes, no shy glances across the campus quad, no memes sent at 2 AM. Just a sudden, inexplicable void where his presence used to be. You had replayed the last week in your mind until the memories were frayed at the edges, trying to pinpoint the exact moment the shift happened. 

The thought gnawed at you. You remembered defending him with such ferocity, calling him innocent and harmless, painting a picture of a boy who was sweet and misunderstood. Now, lying in the dark, you felt like a fool. Maybe he wasn’t misunderstood. Maybe he was just a guy who got bored and moved on, leaving you to dissect the silence he left behind.

“Get up,” Karina commanded, pulling the duvet off you, “Beomgyu’s party is starting, and I am not walking into that sweatbox alone. Besides, if he’s there, don’t you want him to see what he’s missing? Do you really want him to think you’re rotting in bed over him?”

That struck a nerve, the indignation flared up, burning through the lethargy. You didn’t want his pity, and you certainly didn’t want him to think he had the power to dismantle your entire life with a week of silence (he did and you missed him). You sat up, pushing hair out of your face with a grim determination. It was amusing to the others—watching you and Hoon having this insane personality shift, but garnering feelings would do that to anyone, so they couldn’t really question it.

“Fine,” you snapped, though there was no real bite in it, “but if I see him and he ignores me, I’m gonna kiss the first guy i see after him.”

You were lying (obviously), you couldn’t even imagine kissing anyone but him. At first it used to be sweet, you wanted to know if he’d smile into the kiss—but now? Now you wanted him to actually break and prove a point, which seemed a distant thought granted he wasn’t even willing to look your way. 

Sunghoon was undergoing the same thought process in his room where Jay had shoved a very expensive leather jacket his way with a simple command to dress up for the party which made no sense because Sunghoon hated parties, and somehow, he thought that you would not be there—would you? Then his mind drifted to the guy from the library and he realized that maybe you would be there—there with him. 

“He’s buffering again,” Heeseung noted from the doorway, watching Sunghoon stare at the leather jacket as if it were a sentient threat, “Hoon, if you don’t go, you’re just proving you’re a coward. You’re going to let some other guy take your spot because you’re too busy sulking?”  

Sunghoon’s head snapped up. The thought of Jaemin at the party, standing in the space he should be occupying, made his stomach do a violent flip. He realized that yes, you would be there—and the thought of you being there with him was a catalyst that finally burned through his lethargy.  

“Fine,” Sunghoon gritted out, grabbing the jacket. He stood up, his height and the sharp lines of the leather making him look like a stranger even to his roommates.

“Great,” Jay muttered, though he gave Sunghoon a lingering, skeptical look, “I’m not letting you leave that party until you open your mouth and say something that isn’t an apology for existing.”

The walk down to Beomgyu’s suite was a blur of neon lights and thumping bass. The Grand dorm was the largest in the building, and tonight it was a humid, vibrating mass of people. Sunghoon felt like a passenger in his own body, his social anxiety acting like a lead weight, yet the leather jacket served as a suit of armor. He ended up leaning against the kitchenette counter, a red cup held in a white-knuckled grip, completely zoned out as the other boys left to find Jungwon to discuss the situation. 

Despite his internal collapse, he looked devastating. A group of girls had already drifted toward him, laughing and brushing against his sleeves which he was not comfortable with, but he didn’t hear a word they said. He was staring at the door, his heart hammering against his ribs in a frantic, desperate rhythm, not paying attention to the girl who clearly wanted a night with him, cause he had reserved that for someone else tonight (and forever if things worked out right).

He closed his eyes for a while, just standing there collecting his thoughts as the group watched from a distance, muttering about how they weren’t even sure what to expect anymore, but gladly, Karina had informed them about their arrival, which Hoon missed—but you did not miss the way he was there, as if put on display right there for you to feel even worse.

You turned away, your eyes stinging, desperate to find an exit, a drink, anything to numb the sudden spike of pain.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up.”

The voice was smooth, familiar, and right in your ear. You turned to see Jaemin standing there, a lazy, charming grin plastered on his face. He looked effortless, holding a drink in one hand, his posture relaxed and open—the antithesis of the tension radiating from the kitchenette.

“Hey, Jaemin,” you managed, though your voice sounded thin to your own ears.

“You look incredible,” Jaemin said, stepping into your personal space with a confidence that felt practiced yet sincere. He tilted his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners, “though you look like you’re plotting a murder, do you need an alibi?”

You let out a weak, breathy laugh, grateful for the distraction, “just overwhelmed. It’s loud in here.”

“It is,” Jaemin agreed, leaning closer so you could hear him over the pounding bass, “I’m just feeling lucky to catch you without your usual entourage.”

Across the room, Sunghoon had opened his eyes again, now trying to find Jake, to inform him that he wishes to leave, especially when he couldn’t find you—but oh he did, and the static in Sunghoon’s brain cleared with a violent snap. He had been zoning out, letting the chatter of the girls around him fade into white noise, his mind a continuous loop of misery. But the moment his eyes landed on you, everything sharpened. He saw the way you looked—beautiful and somehow sad, and then he saw Jaemin.

He watched Jaemin lean in. He watched the easy familiarity, the way Jaemin smiled at you, the way you offered a small, reluctant smile in return. It was a smile Sunghoon hadn’t earned in days. And then Jaemin reached out, his fingers brushing a lock of hair away from your face, his touch lingering near your cheek.

The innocent boy within him died right there. The harmless label incinerated in a flash of pure, blinding jealousy. Sunghoon didn’t think about this, just felt a rush of adrenaline—which is why he felt so confident now, so sure of what he had to do, and it was interesting how one hormone could manage to switch up someone to such lengths. 

He moved through the crowd with a purpose now, his eyes locked on Jaemin like a predator sighting a threat. He was like a storm front moving across the room. You were just about to answer Jaemin’s question when the air shifted. A shadow fell over you, and before you could turn, a heavy arm clamped around your waist, pulling you backward until you were flush against a hard, solid chest. The scent of expensive cologne and leather enveloped you instantly, drowning out the stale beer smell of the party.

Sunghoon stood behind you, his body a wall of heat, his grip on your waist possessive and unyielding. He wasn’t looking at you. His dark, furious eyes were bored into Jaemin, his jaw set so tight a muscle feathered in his cheek.

“You should leave now,” Sunghoon said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register that vibrated against your back, completely devoid of any stutter or hesitation, and for a minute, you just tried to process the situation, heart hammering in your chest.

Jaemin blinked, his smile faltering as he looked from the white-knuckled grip on your waist to Sunghoon’s icy glare, “I’m just catching up, Sunghoon. Relax.”

“Conversation’s over,” Sunghoon snapped, his fingers digging into the silk of your dress, staking a claim that required no interpretation, “leave.”

And he did, knowing when to turn back and sent a wink towards Jungwon, who had put Jaemin up to this—and it seemed as if their plan had worked, though, it was a hilarious sight to see the boys hiding at the back with their jaws hung wide open, Heeseung laughing freely.

“What the fuck—let go of me, Sunghoon,” you almost screamed, trying to pry his hands off of you. 

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he spun you around, his eyes dark and burning with this volatile mix of desperation and the remains of that blinding jealousy. He didn’t look at the group of boys huddled near the drinks, whose jaws were indeed still dropped at the sudden, predatory shift in the guy they usually described as buffering, he only looked at you, his jaw set in that same tight line that suggested he was one second away from either shattering or exploding. Without a word, he grabbed your hand—his palm hot and slightly damp against yours—and began weaving through the crowd, hauling you toward the exit.

“The fuck are you doing?” You asked, stunned at his new behaviour. 

“We’re not doing this here,” he said, jaw clenched. 

“Oh—now you wanna talk, huh?” You seethed—because god, you were so angry, so confused and yet your heartbeat betrayed you because you were looking forward to what he had to say, what excuse he wished to use.

The walk up the stairs to the boys’ floor was a blur of cold concrete and the echoing sound of your heels. He didn’t stop until he had reached his door, swinging it open and pulling you inside before slamming it shut with a finality that made the air in the small room feel suddenly very thin. The silence of the dorm was jarring after the chaos downstairs, but it wasn’t a peaceful quiet, it was heavy and pregnant with everything that had been left unsaid since before the exams began.  

“You don’t get to do that,” you snapped the moment he let go of your hand, the anger finally breaking through the shock, “you do not get to treat me like I’m invisible for weeks, ignoring my texts and walking past me in the library like I’m a fucking ghost, only to act jealous because you saw me talking to someone else.”

Sunghoon paced the small space of his room, his hands shaking as he pushed them through his hair, successfully ruining the perfect styling Jay had insisted on, “I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose,” he shot back, his voice cracking with a jagged edge you had never heard before, “I was stopping you from looking at him the way you used to look at me before you decided I was someone you couldn’t even consider a man.”

“A man? What are you even talking about?” You yelled, stepping into his space, refusing to let him retreat into the mysterious silence he used as a shield, “I have spent weeks wondering what I did wrong! I was crying over you, Sunghoon. I defended you when everyone was asking why you were acting like this, only for you to ignore me right when I was there in front of you!”

“That’s exactly the problem!” Sunghoon roared, finally stopping his pacing and turning to face you, his eyes glassy, “I heard you, Y/N. At the party before finals, I was right there in the hallway when you were telling those girls exactly what you think of me.”

You froze, the memory of the gossip squad cornering you flashing through your mind, “yeah? And what’s wrong about it? I was defending you! They were calling you a fuckboy.”

“By basically calling me what—a loser?” He hissed, stepping closer until he was looming over you, the scent of his cologne and the leather jacket enveloping you, “I heard the words you used. You told them I was like a puppy, someone who trips over his own feet. You told them I drink banana milk because I can’t handle coffee and that I have a twelve-step skincare routine. You made me sound like an incompetent child, Y/N.”

You could not believe it—all this crying, the heartbreak stemmed from you defending him? And he took it in the worst way possible, as if his mind could not admit you would love him the way he is, and formed a thought process that did irrevocable damage to both you and him.

“I said those things in a good light,” you screamed back, your own heart hammering against your ribs, “I called you sweet because I thought you were! I didn’t know your ego was so fragile that you’d rather be seen as a villain than a person who actually cares about things!”

This conversation was not going the way you both had intended—anger taking over and ruling all the other feelings out, yet none of you were ready to back down.

“It’s not about ego!” Sunghoon grabbed your wrists, pinning them against his chest so you could feel the violent, erratic rhythm of his heart, “It’s about the fact that I’ve been sitting in this room for days trying to be a man you’d actually desire, only to find out that you look at me with pity, you made me feel like I wasn’t even an option for you—just a clumsy loser you had fun to be around.”

“So you decided to punish me instead of talking to me normally?”

“Yeah, just like you forgot all about me the second Jaemin came into your life.”

“Are you fucking hearing yourself right now?” Your throat hurt with all the yelling, and you couldn’t even back down, not when he was so close to you, “fine, if you don’t want that to happen then stop acting like a coward and actually do something, fight for me, not against me!”

His hand shot out, not to grab your wrist this time, but to grip your chin, forcing your head up so you couldn’t look away—and god he looked so different, but his eyes were the same, sweet and gentle despite the anger, “I dragged you out of there because I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else having your attention. I’m standing here, wrecking everything, screaming my lungs out because I am fighting, Y/N. I’m fighting the urge to completely lose my mind.”

“Then show me,” you breathed, challenging him, your heart pounding so hard as the tip of his nose brushed against yours, “prove it to me you’re not the harmless boy I defended. Prove to me that you want me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice—he’d waited too long, and he couldn’t say no when you stood there with watery eyes, chest heaving up and down, bottom lip bitten, and Sunghoon swears you look the prettiest you had ever looked. He had gone through myriad scenarios of this happening, none of them involved Sunghoon surging forward with his mouth crashing against yours—which is exactly what happened. 

It did not happen with the tentative sweetness of the boy you had defended in the hallway, but with a searing, desperate hunger that tasted of frustration and a few week’s worth of repressed longing. He groaned into the kiss—it felt good, too good as he let his lips convey what he couldn’t, and it wasn’t sweet, it was rather messy and uncoordinated, a collision that felt less like affection and more like a necessity—as if he were trying to breathe you in to keep from suffocating.

You stumbled back, your spine hitting the wood of the door with a dull thud, but he didn’t let up. His hands were everywhere—one tangled tightly in the hair at the nape of your neck, tilting your head back to deepen the angle, the other gripping your waist with a bruising possession, anchoring you to him. He was heavy against you, a solid wall of heat and leather, and for a moment, the sheer shock of his intensity froze you, a shiver going down your spine, feeling the frustration radiating off him.

But then the indignation flared—the audacity of him to think he could solve this with physical force had you fighting back. You kissed him back with the same jagged intensity, your hands balling into fists against the lapels of that ridiculous jacket, pushing and pulling all at once. The kiss was an argument in itself, sharp and biting, stripped of any pretense of politeness.

He broke the contact with a ragged gasp, but he didn’t really pull away. He buried his face in the sensitive crook of your neck, his breathing harsh and uneven against your skin, his lips grazing your pulse point, breath warming you up further, especially when he nibbled on your skin. You could feel him trembling—fine tremors running through his frame that betrayed the facade he was trying so hard to maintain.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into your skin, the words thick and slurred, vibrating against your clavicle, “god, I missed you so much it physically hurt.”

It was the vulnerability in his voice—the way it cracked on the confession, stripping away the anger to reveal the desperation underneath—that finally undid you. You could feel the dampness of his eyelashes against your neck, a stark contrast to the aggression of moments before.

“You have a terrible way of showing it, Sunghoon,” you whispered, your voice shaking, your hands slowly uncurling from his jacket, moving up to grip his shoulders to keep yourself upright.

“I’ll show you, fuck—i’ll show you everything,” he mumbled, pressing opened mouthed kisses over the expanse of your neck, making you gasp his name, to which he groaned, “‘m not Sunghoon, call me Hoonie.”

“Fuck—”

“Tell me you missed me—tell me you’re feeling this too,” he hissed, which almost seemed like a plea against your lips—especially with the way he was holding your nape, looking right into your eyes.

“I—I did, Hoonie,” you mumbled against his lips, and he shook his head.

It’s filthy how he leans in to bite your bottom lip, pulling you flush against him with ease, his right thigh settling in between your legs as he did so, making you whine, and he loves the sound, he loves it too fucking much to not pull you into another kiss to absorb each sound you’re giving him so lovingly (at least he thinks so). 

“C’mon—say it,” he urged, pulling your lower lip before letting go, a string of saliva connecting you both regardless.  

“What happened to you?” You breathed out, knees threatening to give out as you held on to Sunghoon’s shoulder, who only chuckled.

“Did you really think I was a virgin? That I’m someone who can’t make you feel good, hm? As if I hadn’t thought about having you close before,” he leaned in again, and this time, you could see how calm he was, “I’m still the same man—just this time, I’m desperate to please you.”

Your eyes widened, pressing your thighs together only to cage Hoon’s leg harder, shoulders curling in, “Hoonie, you don’t have to—” 

“Shh—just be good for me tonight, I really really want to kiss you again.” He couldn’t help but express his feelings, “you look so pretty, so pretty I swear,”  he grunts, and he swears it’s intoxicating the way you taste, how he can feel your pulse as he sucks on skin. His lips linger on your neck, sucking gently at the tender skin, drawing out the heat that blooms under his touch. The pull of his mouth is unhurried, deliberate, each drag of his tongue sending a fresh wave of warmth spreading through your veins. You feel the rapid thump of your own pulse against his lips, matching the erratic beat of your heart, and it makes your breath hitch in your throat.

“Say it, baby,” he murmurs.

“I missed you—was waiting for you,” you whined, and he swore, the way you said it sent this insane feeling down his cock—which twitched with need.

One of his hands stays firm at the nape of your neck, fingers threading through your hair with a possessive grip that grounds you, while the other slides slowly down your side. His palm flattens against your ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of your breast through your shirt, tracing the curve with feather-light pressure. The fabric bunches slightly under his exploration, and you arch into the contact without thinking, a soft whimper escaping as the sensation teases your nipple into a tight peak.

“God, your body responds to me like it’s been waiting,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and rough, laced with that raw need that's starting to unravel you both. His breath fans hot over the damp spot he’s left on your neck, making you shiver, and he presses closer, his chest rising and falling against yours in sync with your quickening breaths, “thought about this so much—thought about you all the time, fuck! Pretty, yeah just keep your eyes on me.”

You can feel the hard line of his cock straining against the front of his jeans, pressing insistently into your hip as he shifts his weight. It’s a solid reminder of his arousal, thick and unyielding, and the knowledge sends a flush of heat straight to your core, your pussy clenching with empty want—mind still trying to process the situation. Your hands, still clutching his shoulders, slide down tentatively, fingers splaying over the firm planes of his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath the leather jacket. The material is cool and smooth under your palms, juxtaposing the feverish warmth of his body seeping through.

“Thought you got bored of me,” you gasped out.

“Could never—I thought about you each fucking day, each second.”

He groans softly at your touch, the sound vibrating through him and into you, and his hand at your side dips lower, cupping your hip with a squeeze that borders on bruising. His fingers dig into the soft flesh there, kneading slowly, pulling you tighter against him so that his thigh remains wedged firmly between your legs. The pressure against your clothed pussy is maddening—subtle friction that builds with every tiny shift, making your clit ache for more direct contact.

“Hoonie,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the mix of lingering frustration and surging desire, your nails scraping lightly over his jacket as you grip him harder. The vulnerability in his earlier confession lingers in the air, softening the edges of your indignation, and now it’s just the two of you, bodies communicating what words can’t quite capture.

He lifts his head from your neck, eyes dark and intense as they meet yours, pupils blown wide with lust and something deeper—longing perhaps, or the fear of losing this again. His free hand moves up, cupping your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone before trailing down to trace your jaw, then your throat. The touch is reverent, almost tender, but there’s an undercurrent of hunger in the way his fingers linger, pressing just enough to feel your swallow.

“I need to touch you everywhere,” he confesses, his voice cracking slightly on the words, and before you can respond, his mouth claims yours again. This kiss is slower than the last, exploratory—his tongue sliding against yours in languid strokes, tasting and teasing without the frantic edge. You melt into it, your body going pliant as his hand on your hip ventures bolder, slipping under the hem of your dress to caress the bare skin of your waist.

His palm is soft, and the texture against your smooth skin makes you gasp into the kiss. He takes the opportunity to deepen it, tongue curling around yours as his fingers spread wide, exploring the dip of your waist, the slight curve of your lower back. Each inch he claims feels electric, igniting nerves you didn’t know were so sensitive, and you press your thighs together around his leg, seeking relief from the growing wetness soaking your panties. The friction only heightens the ache, your pussy throbbing with each subtle grind, and he notices—god, he notices everything. A low hum of approval rumbles from his chest, and his hand under your dress inches higher, thumb grazing the edge of your bra. He doesn’t push further yet, just circles the underwire with agonizing slowness, feeling the way your breath stutters, the way your nipple strains against the lace.

“Tell me what you feel,” he pulls back just enough to whisper, forehead resting against yours, his eyes searching your face. His other hand leaves your face to join the first, both now under your dress, palms sliding up your sides in tandem, thumbs brushing the sides of your tits, all while he tries to memorize every inch of you, the most perfect girl for him.

“You—everywhere,” you manage, voice breathy, your hands moving to his waist, tugging at the hem of his shirt to feel the heat of his skin, “your hands—it’s too much and not enough, i need you, baby.” The confession spills out, raw and honest, mirroring his earlier vulnerability, and it seems to spur him on.

He chuckles softly once he’s done groaning cause—fuck, he’s been waiting to hear that, to have you to him. And finally, his big, veiny hands cup your breasts fully, squeezing with a firm pressure that has you moaning into his mouth as he kisses you again. His thumbs flick over your nipples through the bra, back and forth, hardening them further until they're aching points of need. The groping is thorough, unhurried—he kneads the soft flesh, feeling their weight in his palms, rolling them gently as if memorizing every curve.

“So the girls were right—ah,” you whine.

“No,” he breathed out, “I’m like this just for you, just because of you.”

Your hips rock against his thigh instinctively, the seam of your panties rubbing against your clit, and the spark of pleasure makes you clench around nothing, arousal trickling down your thighs. He feels the movement, presses his leg harder to encourage it, his own cock twitching against you in response. The air between you thickens with the scent of your combined arousal, heavy and intoxicating, and his kisses trail back to your neck, nipping lightly as his hands continue their worship.

“So responsive,” he breathes, one hand slipping around to your back, fingers working at the clasp of your bra with practiced ease. It gives with a soft snap, and he wastes no time pushing the straps down your shoulders, exposing your tits to the cool air. Goosebumps prickle your skin, but his mouth is there immediately, hot and wet, latching onto one nipple while his hand covers the other, “fucking pretty—all fucking mine.”

He sucks gently at first, tongue swirling around the peak, teeth grazing just enough to send jolts straight to your core. Your pussy pulses with each pull of his mouth, wetness seeping further, and you thread your fingers into his hair, holding him close. The feelings crash over you—the possessiveness in his grip, the desperation in his touches, the way his body trembles slightly against yours, betraying how much he needs this reconnection as much as you do.

“Seems like you have a lot of experience,” you mumbled, looking elsewhere. 

He smirked against you, “is my baby jealous?”

“No—fuck,” you whined as he let his free hand roams lower again, palming your ass through your panties, squeezing the cheek hard enough to make you gasp. He kneads it slowly, pulling you tighter against his thigh, guiding your movements as you grind, the friction building that sweet, torturous pressure, “that’s it, feel how much I want you, only you,” he murmurs against your breast, voice muffled, before switching sides, giving the other nipple the same devoted attention, and fucking hell—he was in love with you, absolutely there to hear each sound you make and every movement of your body in response to him. 

Every touch, every grope, layers the intimacy, stripping away the walls between you, leaving only the raw, aching need to be closer, to feel more.

He pulls back from your breast with a wet pop, his eyes dark and feral as they lock onto yours, “get on the bed, baby. Now,” he growls, voice thick with command, and you stumble back with him, legs shaky from the grinding, your soaked panties clinging to your pussy lips as he shoves you toward the mattress. You hit the soft sheets on your back, bra discarded somewhere on the floor, tits bouncing free.

His body follows, crashing over yours, knees pinning your thighs apart. Those veiny hands dive straight for your naked tits (which he seemed to love, especially wanting to mark them), squeezing hard—fingers digging into the soft flesh, thumbs crushing your nipples until you arch and cry out, “fuck, these tits are so perfect,” he mutters, leaning down to bite one peak sharp enough to sting, his fangs sinking in while his tongue flicks the tip. Pain mixes with heat, shooting straight to your clit, and you buck under him, pussy clenching empty and desperate, repeating his name as you find yourself wetter than ever, and he had barely touched you—you really fucking needed him.

His fingers press deep into your skin, bruising your waist as he kneads them like he owns every inch—because he does, tonight, tomorrow, always, all him to ravage, “you love this, don’t you? Watching me go crazy over you, fuck,” he rasps against your skin, breath hot, his free hand sliding down to grip your hip, nails scraping.

Your hips jerk up anyway, grinding your drenched panties against his thigh, the fabric sodden now, rubbing your swollen clit with every desperate roll. Wetness seeps through, coating his jeans, and you feel his cock twitch hard against your side, “yeah, keep going, doing so fucking well for me, c’mon, rub yourself before I lose it and fuck you dumb,” he taunts, pressing his thigh firmer into your pussy, forcing the friction deeper. You moan loud, fingers clawing at his shoulders, the ache building fast, your core pulsing with slick heat.

“Please—Hoonie, you’re insane,” you mumbled, biting his shoulder to conceal your moans, “want you, I’ve always wanted you.”

He chuckles dark despite the way he felt butterflies in his abdomen, cause god, he literally fell for you at first sight, only to truly fall for you with each passing interaction. And now? He wanted to show you exactly how good he can make you feel—leaning in low, shoving your legs wider with his knee, “enough teasing. I want that dripping cunt bare and pretty for me.” His hands hook into your panties, yanking them down rough, the elastic snapping against your thighs before he rips them off completely, tossing them aside. Cool air hits your exposed pussy, lips puffy and glistening, arousal dripping down to the bed sheet. He spreads you wide, knees hooking under yours, thumbs parting your folds to stare at your slick hole, eyes shining, “fuck—look at this messy pussy, begging for my tongue, all fucking mine, yeah?”

Before you can gasp, his head dives between your legs, mouth latching onto your cunt like a starving man, licking a stripe from your hole up to your clit before going down again. His tongue thrusts deep inside, fucking your hole with wet, urgent strokes, lapping up your juices as they flood out. You scream, back bowing off the bed, hands fisting the sheets while he devours you—sucking your clit hard, then plunging back in, tongue curling against your walls, “taste so fucking good, all wet and ready for me,” he groans into your pussy, vibrations humming through you, his stubble scraping your inner thighs raw.

“God—”

“No god, just me,” he groaned against you.

He eats you out relentlessly, nose bumping your clit as his tongue spears deeper, slurping noisily at your folds. Fingers join in, two thick ones shoving into your pussy alongside his tongue, stretching you, pumping hard while he bites your labia lightly, tugging. Your hips buck wild, grinding into his face, soaking his chin with your cum, “that’s it, fuck my mouth—come all over it,” he demands, voice muffled but commanding, free hand reaching up to pinch your nipple again, twisting until tears prick your eyes.

“God—feels so good, ah—slow down—”

Pleasure coils tight in your gut, his dominance flooding you—the way he holds you open, owns your body with every rough lick and thrust. He pulls back just enough to spit on your clit, rubbing it in with his thumb before diving back, tongue flicking fast, fingers curling to hit that spot inside that makes you see stars, “stop? Oh baby—you’re mine to fuck, mine to eat, gonna make this pussy squirt before I ram my cock in, yeah? Gonna claim you, make you forget about anyone else who had you before me,” his words hit like slaps, so very dirty and possessive, pushing you closer to the edge.

You bit your lip, trying to rile him up even further, “you sure you can—ah!” 

He slapped your cunt, making you arch off the mattress, making you cry, moans turning to pleas, his mouth working you harder, rougher—sucking your clit like he’s trying to bruise it, tongue fucking your hole until your thighs quake around his head. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t ease up, just dominates your pleasure, drawing out every drop of slick, every shudder. The room reverberates with the wet sounds of his feast, your cries echoing, bodies slick with sweat and need. But he’s not done—far from it, his cock grinding against the mattress now, hungry for more than just your taste.

“Sure I can, and I will.” Sunghoon doesn’t remember the last time he felt so feral, perhaps never before, perhaps this was just for you, and he didn’t mind especially when you were spread out so pretty for him, reacting to every bit of him, he fucking loved it—he loved you. He grabs your hips suddenly, dragging you back down the bed with a rough yank, your ass sliding over the sheets as he positions you right where he wants—legs splayed wide, pussy exposed and dripping onto the mattress. His big, veiny hands clamp onto your thighs, thumbs digging into the soft flesh to spread your soaking slit wide open, folds parting with a wet schlick, your clit throbbing in the cool air

“Stay fucking still, baby,” he snarls, eyes locked on your glistening hole, arousal leaking out in thick strings. Before you can catch your breath, his head drops again, mouth crashing against your cunt like he’s starving for it.

His tongue buries deep inside you in one brutal thrust, spearing into your walls, lapping up the fresh flood of juices with savage hunger. He sucks hard on your inner folds, pulling them into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to sting while his tongue flicks wildly against your entrance. The suction pulls at your core, making your pussy clench around nothing, and you cry out, hips jerking up to grind against his face. Slurping sounds fill the room, obscene and wet, his stubble scraping your sensitive skin raw as he devours you deeper, nose pressing into your clit with every forceful lick. 

“This cunt’s mine, hm? Gonna eat it till you can’t walk, gonna show you how sorry I am,” he mutters right into your slit, the vibration rumbling through your nerves, sending shocks up your spine, “sorry, baby. Sorry my pretty girl—hm, so fucking sorry. You’re mine and I’m not fucking sorry about that.”

You arch off the bed, fingers twisting in his silky hair, pulling him closer even as the intensity borders on too much. His tongue thrusts in and out, curling to scoop out more of your slick, swallowing it down with greedy gulps, sucking your clit between his lips and biting down lightly, making you scream. Pleasure-pain explodes, your thighs trembling around his head, but he pins you harder, dominance radiating from every rough movement—owning your body, forcing ecstasy on you whether you can take it or not.

Without warning, he shoves two thick fingers inside you, knuckles deep in one brutal push, stretching your walls wide around the intrusion. Your pussy grips them tight, sucking him in as he starts pumping fast—curling and twisting, slamming against that spot inside that makes your vision go blur. 

“Fuck, so tight and wet—good fucking girl, stay this way, hm?” He rasps, mouth still latched on your clit, sucking hard while his fingers piston in and out, the wet squelch echoing with every thrust. Juices coat his hand, dripping down to soak the sheets, and you buck wildly, the stretch burning sweet as he adds a third finger, scissoring them to open you up more.

“Fucking crazy, what happened to clumsy Hoon?” You breathed. 

“Gone for now.”

His cock throbs hard against your thigh now, the thick length straining through his pants, hot and leaking pre-cum that smears sticky on your skin. He grinds it there deliberately, humping your leg like an animal in heat while he finger-bangs you relentlessly, thumb circling your clit in rough swirls. 

“Feel that? My dick’s aching to split you open, but first I’m gonna make this pussy gush all over my face, need to taste you,” he keeps on mumbling against you, voice muffled against your folds, breath hot and ragged. 

You drown in the raw lust, moans spilling loud and broken from your lips, every nerve firing as he devours you deeper. The pressure builds unbearable, your hips rolling desperately into his mouth, chasing the edge as waves of heat crash through you. Sweat slicks both your bodies, the air thick with the musk of sex—your arousal, his sweat. You claw at the sheets, thighs shaking, the dominance in his grip holding you down as pleasure rips you apart. 

“Can’t anymore, please—”

“Come on, pretty girl, cum on my tongue, let me taste you,” he demands, voice gravelly, tongue flicking your clit one last time before sealing his lips around it, humming low to vibrate through your core.

The orgasm hits you like crazy, your walls clenching hard around his fingers, gushing slick that he laps up hungrily, not missing a drop. You thrash and sob, body convulsing under his relentless ministrations, but even as the aftershocks ripple, he keeps pumping slow now, drawing it out, his cock still grinding insistently against your thigh, and you wondered what happened to the clumsy boy you knew, and why was he a fucking beast in bed for real—not knowing how he wasn’t really sure himself, just drunk in your essence probably? Or too fucking adamant to make you feel good, prove something even though you wanted him regardless. 

“That’s one—now I’m gonna fuck you raw till you beg for me to stop.”

Well—fuck. He was too good at this, cause you were left speechless, staring at how spent he looked, pulling back just enough to meet your dazed eyes, lips shiny with your juices, hunger far from sated, and eyes darker than ever—he looked insanely hot. 

Sunghoon’s gaze holds yours captive, that predatory glint in his eyes sending fresh shivers racing down your spine. His lips curve into a smirk, wicked and knowing, as he wipes a stray bead of your essence from his chin with the back of his hand, never breaking eye contact. The air between you crackles, thick with the scent of sex and sweat, your breaths mingling in the charged space. You can still feel the ghost of his fingers inside you, the way they curled just right, coaxing every last tremor from your core. But he’s not done—not by a long shot. That insistent press of his cock against your thigh grows bolder, the heat of it branding your skin, a silent vow of what’s to come.

“Speechless already?” He teases, his voice a husky rumble that vibrates through your chest. He leans in closer, his nose brushing yours in an almost tender gesture, a stark contrast to the feral hunger etched on his face, “I thought you wanted me to show you exactly how much I want you, hm? Will you be satisfied when I’m buried in deep?” His words drip with challenge, laced with that raw affection you’ve always known from him—the clumsy stumbles, the shy smiles—but twisted now into something intoxicatingly dominant.

You swallow hard, your throat dry despite the slick mess between your legs. The room spins a little, your body still humming from the high, but his proximity grounds you, pulls you back into the moment, “Hoonie—” you manage, your voice a breathy whisper, fingers twitching at your sides as if unsure whether to push him away or pull him in. The old him flickers in your mind—the boy who tripped over his own feet during movie nights, who blushed when your hands brushed accidentally. How had he transformed? It was like unleashing a storm you’d never seen brewing.

He chuckles low, the sound vibrating against your collarbone as he trails open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, savoring the salt of your skin, “yeah? Say my name like that again when I’m fucking you senseless.” 

His hand slides up your thigh, possessive and unhurried, fingers digging in just enough to leave faint marks—reminders that you’ll feel tomorrow, a secret map of this night. He stopped just for a minute, and you watched him take off his pants and boxers in a go, your eyes widening in process as you watched him undress, the dim lights accentuating every inch of him—even the ones you wondered whether you’ll be able to handle or not.

He hooks your leg over his hip, opening you up further, the tip of his cock now teasing your entrance, slick with your arousal and his own pre-cum. The anticipation builds like a slow fuse, every shallow nudge sending sparks skittering through your nerves.

“Please,” you murmur, the word escaping before you can stop it, your hips arching instinctively toward him. It’s not begging—not yet—but it’s close, the vulnerability cracking through your haze. You want to unravel him too, to see that beast roar, but god, the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing anchoring him—it makes your heart clench alongside the ache low in your belly.

Sunghoon pauses, his breath hitching, eyes softening for a fraction of a second as he searches your face. There’s that tenderness again, peeking through the cracks of his intensity—a silent question, a check-in amid the storm, “you okay, baby?” He asks, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper, his thumb stroking soothing circles on your hip. It’s so him, this blend of fire and care, and it only makes you want him more.

“More than good,” you reply, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his damp hair, tugging lightly to bring his mouth back to yours. The kiss starts soft, exploratory, lips brushing like a shared secret, but it ignites quickly, tongues tangling with renewed urgency. You taste yourself on him, musky and intimate, and it fuels the fire, your free hand roaming down his chest, nails scraping over the ridges of his abs.

He groans into your mouth, the sound raw and needy, breaking the kiss to nip at your lower lip, “fuck, Y/N—you drive me crazy. Always have.” With that admission hanging between you, he shifts his hips, the head of his cock pressing insistently now, parting your folds with deliberate slowness. Inch by torturous inch, he sinks into you and it takes a while, leaving the room with reverberations of your moans and groans as you accommodate to his size, the stretch burning sweetly, your walls yielding to his thickness. You gasp against his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sound, but he doesn’t let you hide—his hand cups the back of your neck, forcing your eyes to meet his as he bottoms out, fully sheathed.

“Look at me,” he demands, though his voice wavers with the effort of holding still, letting you adjust, “feel how perfect you are? Made for this—for me.”His forehead rests against yours, breaths syncing in the intimate cocoon of your bodies. The fullness is overwhelming, every pulse of him echoing through you, but it’s the emotion in his stare that hits hardest—the need of wanting you. Lovers entangled in a way that feels inevitable.

You nod, words failing as you clench around him experimentally, drawing a hiss from his lips, “Sunghoon—move. Please, I need—”

“I know what you need, baby,” he cuts in, voice strained, and then he’s moving—slow at first, a languid roll of his hips that grinds against that spot inside you, building the tension like embers catching flame. Each thrust is measured, deep, his cock dragging along your sensitive walls, the friction sparking pleasure that coils tighter with every pass. His hand slips between you, thumb finding your clit with unerring accuracy, circling in time with his rhythm.

“Like that?” He murmurs, lips ghosting your ear, his free arm wrapping around your waist to hold you flush against him. The position is intimate, chest to chest, hearts pounding in tandem, but there’s nothing gentle about the way he picks up speed, hips snapping forward with increasing force. The wet sounds of your joining fill the room, obscene and arousing, mingling with your shared moans.

“Yes—god, yes,” you cry out, head falling back as the pleasure mounts, your nails digging into his shoulders for purchase.

“No baby, say my name,” he chuckles when you do so on repeat, and he’s relentless now, the beast fully unleashed, pounding into you with a ferocity that borders on punishing, yet every so often he slows, grinding deep, whispering praises that melt your bones, “so tight—so wet for me. You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you, love? Milk my cock until I can’t hold back.”

The words push you higher, your body responding with a flood of heat, slick coating him as you chase the edge. You can feel him everywhere—his sweat-slicked skin sliding against yours, the musky scent of him overwhelming your senses, the way his breath stutters when you squeeze around him. It’s raw, but threaded with that emotional undercurrent, the clumsy boy proving himself not through words, but through this worship of your body.

“Sunghoon, I’m—fuck, I’m close,” you gasp, your voice breaking as the coil snaps taut. He senses it, angles his hips just right, thumb pressing harder on your clit, and the world fractures. Your orgasm crashes over you, fiercer than the last, walls fluttering wildly around him as you sob his name, body arching in ecstasy. Stars burst behind your eyelids, pleasure radiating from your core in endless waves.

He doesn’t stop, riding it out with you, his thrusts erratic now as your release triggers his own, “that’s it, baby—cum on me. Fuck, you feel so good—”

With a guttural groan, he buries himself deep one final time, spilling hot inside you, his cock pulsing with each spurt. His body shudders against yours, arms tightening like a vice, as if afraid you’ll slip away in the haze, in awe of how you clenched harder, squirting all over his cock and abdomen, which is something you had never really done before.

For a long moment, you stay locked together, breaths ragged, the afterglow wrapping around you like a warm blanket. He presses soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, murmuring nonsense words of adoration, “you’re incredible,” he breathes.

He watches you staring at him with your pretty eyes, and now, he feels shy, yet not ready enough to part ways, so he settles with hiding his pretty face in your neck, trying to be impossibly close to you, licking the spots he’d marked earlier, making you giggle slightly, his own smile blooming when he hears that, and somehow, everything feels right again. With you playing with his hair, he giggles, and the switch up in his demeanour amuses you, because the fiercely jealous guy who dragged you out of the party had entirely melted back into the sweet boy you’d been missing for weeks.

“You’re like two different people, Hoonie,” you whisper, your fingers gently detangling the dark strands at the nape of his neck.

He hums a low, contended sound that vibrates against your skin. He shifts his weight, wrapping his arms even more securely around your waist to pull you flush against him, as if he’s terrified you might still disappear if he loosens his grip.

“I’m just me,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin. Slowly, he lifts his head. His cheeks are dusted with a pretty, shy pink flush, and his dark eyes are incredibly soft, completely devoid of the panic or anger that had clouded them earlier. He looks at you with a vulnerability that makes your breath hitch.

“I didn’t know what I was doing, Y/N,” he confesses, his thumbs gently stroking the sides of your waist. He swallows hard, “I was so desperate for you to see me as a man you could desire, not just some harmless puppy you felt sorry for. I—I actually looked up a guide.”

You blink, your hands stilling in his hair, “a guide?”

Sunghoon groans, dropping his forehead against your shoulder as if trying to hide from his own embarrassment, “WikiHow,” he mumbles, “how to flirt with a pretty girl, uh—with pictures.”

The room goes completely silent for a second. You stare down at the top of his dark head, your brain struggling to process the information.

“Wait,” you breathe out, the pieces suddenly snapping together in your mind, “the staring contest at the pub during trivia night?”

“Step one: Make eye contact,” he grumbles miserably.

“The voice note asking me to get boba, and then immediately inviting Jake and Jay?”

“I panicked because the guide said not to come on too strong. I used them as human shields.”

A massive, overwhelming swarm of butterflies suddenly erupts in your stomach. The guy who looks like he belongs on a runway, was secretly reading step-by-step internet articles because he was so nervous around you. It is the most endearingly pathetic, incredibly sweet thing you have ever heard in your entire life. You can’t help it—a laugh bubbles up in your chest, bright and genuine.

Sunghoon flinches slightly, his grip tightening, “don’t laugh at me,” he whines, sounding exactly like a babie, “Jake and Heeseung already found it on my laptop and roasted me for it. It was humiliating.”

“Hoonie,” you laugh softly, cupping his face and forcing him to look up at you. His eyes are wide and entirely unguarded, “you didn’t need any of that. The steps didn’t make me like you—you made me like you.”

He searches your face, clearly searching for any trace of pity, but only finding absolute adoration, “really?”

“Really,” you promise, your thumbs brushing over his sharp cheekbones, “I didn’t fall for the guy trying to be a smooth, mysterious flirt. I fell for the guy who fought the doorframe and lost, the guy who shared his umbrella in the rain, and the guy who sang Disney songs with me in the park. You never needed a guide, Sunghoon, I wanted you.”

A beautiful, relieved smile breaks across his face, the one that reaches his eyes and shows off his cute fangs. He leans into your touch, completely melting into your space, “I like you so much it makes my brain short-circuit,” he breathes out, his forehead resting against yours, “I’m entirely, hopelessly down bad for you, Y/N.”

“I really really like you too, you puppy,” you whisper, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to his lips as he whined, making your eyes wide, “oh you’re into that—”

“Uh—i’ll get you some water,” he panicked, getting up, cock slipping out of you, and entirely forgetting about the clothes sprawled all over the floor, which made him yelp as he fell down. 

You laughed freely, cause gosh, you really were falling for this man. Grabbing his leather jacket, you wore it as he tried to hide himself with embarrassment. It was a stupid choice to get up when your legs were not stable, because it resulted in you wobbling and falling right over hoon, the jacket doing nothing to hide your body, pressed against his so perfectly. Now, it was his turn to chuckle as he grabbed a strand of your hair, kissing it sweetly.

“Damn, was i that good?” He smirked, clearly loving the way you were hiding your face in his neck now.

“Oh shut up, puppy,” you mumbled, and he held on to you tighter.

“Well—this puppy isn’t done with you. C’mon baby, let me help you shower.”

Safe to say, you did much more than just showering, and even though exhaustion took over, sleep wasn’t something you entertained, pecking each other sweetly all night, acting clingier than ever, and honestly?

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

MEANWHILE:

Jay rattled the handle one more time, putting his shoulder into it just to be absolutely sure. He slowly turned his head to look at Jake and Heeseung in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway.

“He locked it,” Jay said, his voice completely flat. 

Jake pressed his forehead against the heavy wood door, looking genuinely heartbroken, “you’ve got to be kidding me—tell me you’re kidding. My bed is in there, Jay, my toothbrush, my entire life.”

“I don’t care about your toothbrush, Jake,” Jay snapped, rubbing his temples, “I care about the fact that we are currently homeless because Sunghoon final-fucking-ly figured out how to flirt.”

Heeseung didn’t even argue, he had already accepted his fate, sliding down the wall until he hit the floor. He lay flat on his back, staring blankly at the sky, “I planned this,” I muttered, “I planned the whole party with Beomgyu, and my reward is the floor.”

Down the hall, Jungwon and Karina stepped out, stopping dead in their tracks as they took in the tragic scene. Jungwon let out a loud snort, crossing his arms, “wow, look at this sad display. You guys look pathetic.”

Heeseung immediately sat up, he scrambled over to Karina, looking up at her with giant, desperate eyes, “Karina please, have mercy.”

Karina took a step back, “what are you doing?”

“Y/N’s bed is empty,” Heeseung pleaded, “i’m a great houseguest. I will literally buy your coffee for a week—do not leave me out here in the hallway with them.”

Karina looked down at Heeseung, then over at Jay and Jake, who were staring at her like abandoned stray dogs. She let out a long, suffering sigh, “fine, get up. Heeseung, you can take Y/N’s bed. But just you.”

“Bless you,” Heeseung whispered, jumping up and sprinting before she could change her mind.

Jungwon shook his head as they all made your way towards their dorm, looking entirely too amused as he walked over to unlock his own bedroom door down the hall, “well, good luck on the carpet, you two. Build a fort or something.”

He turned the key and pushed his door open. But the second the lock clicked, Jay and Jake exchanged a single, desperate look. Pure survival instincts kicked in, and no words were needed. Before Jungwon could even step inside, Jay and Jake shoved past him, rushing into the room like they were escaping a burning building.

“Hey! What the—” Jungwon yelled, spinning around.

It was too late. Jake was already laid across Jungwon’s mattress like a starfish, pulling the duvet up to his chin, while Jay wedged himself against the wall side of the bed, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing heavily to fake being asleep.

“You can’t kick us out!” Jake screamed, hair disheveled. 

“I’m asleep!” Jay announced loudly, “so deep in sleep.”

Jungwon stood in the doorway of his own bedroom, staring at the two fully grown men currently occupying his mattress. He looked at Jake’s death grip on the blanket. He looked at Jay, who was very clearly peeking with one eye. The silence stretched for three agonizing seconds.

Jungwon just let out a long, deeply exhausted sigh, slowly reaching over and grabbing a single throw pillow off his desk chair, and turned on his heel.

“I hate all of you,” Jungwon muttered flatly, dragging his feet out into the living room to sleep on the couch.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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he streamed league of legends, valorant, and occasionally genshin impact. his following was modest; his view count unimpressive for someone so unfairly good at what he did.

you were shocked that the guy even followed you back.

working up the courage to dm him took another week. you'd rehearsed the message three times before finally sending him a compliment about his recent stream—where he tried to pity build and somehow made it viable.

he left you on read for almost two full days. you hadn't known a guy could be so cold until you met sunghoon.

when he finally responded, it was a single, effortless "ty." if he thought that would dispirit you, he clearly underestimated your persistence.

from then on, it was like luring a cat with their favorite treats. you'd drop hyper-specific references that catered to his most recent interests, send him niche memes, and casually ask about his raid strategies until he finally broke and sent you a five-minute voice note explaining particle effects like it was life or death. his voice was softer than you expected, a little breathless when he got passionate, as if he forgot he was talking to you and not his twitch chat.

you couldn't have achieved more in life.

you broke sunghoon.

months later, that same scrawny, sleep-deprived lab partner is sprawled in his gaming chair in front of you. rgb lights highlighting his sharp features in blue and purple, catching along the curves of his jaw. he's wearing his usual black hoodie, silver-rimmed glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose while he focuses on his second monitor.

you're kneeling between his spread thighs under the desk, the carpet soft against your knees. on one screen, his guild is mid-raid, boss health bar ticking down, teammates yelling callouts through his headset. he hasn't missed a single mechanic.

his free hand rests casually on your head at first, fingers combing through your hair like he's petting a cat. soft, innocent enough for you to lean into his touch.

you hear him hum softly before tightening his grip.

he angles his hips forward a fraction, feeding another slow inch past your lips without sparing a single glance at you. his voice stays perfectly even when he speaks into the mic.

"yeah, taunt on cooldown. i got the aggro reset, don't worry."

you hollow your cheeks, swirling your tongue the way you know makes his thigh twitch. a tiny hitch escapes his lips, but is gone in a second. he adjusts his headset like nothing had happened, thumb brushing against your cheek almost tenderly.

"sorry guys, cable got caught," he mutters to his team. "we're all good now."

but under the desk, his fingers slide into your hair properly now, holding you still while he rocks slow, controlled thrusts that let him stay seated and look entirely normal from the angle he has his webcam at.

the thrill of it burns low in your stomach: his friends hearing only his calm responses while you're pathetically drooling around his length, trying not to make a sound.

when the boss finally dies and the raid cheers, he mutes. only then does he lean back, glasses fogging at the corners, and finally looks down at you with those hooded eyes.

"good girl," he praises quietly, voice wrecked in a way his discord friends will never hear. "took me so well while i carried."

he pulls you up by the wrists, spins the chair, and hauls you onto his lap in one fluid motion. your thighs bracket his as he leans in and kisses you like he's starving, teeth and tongue and little rough groans he muffles against your mouth.

his setup is everywhere around you: shelves lined with scale figures of his favorite anime characters, a half-built lego kit deserted on the side table, and rows upon rows of manga. he's spent years alone in rooms like this, studying every frame of hentai, every doujin panel, and every moan cadence. now he uses his knowledge just as well as he memorizes titration curves and reaction rates with unnerving accuracy.

one hand slips under your shirt, fingers finding your nipples and rolling them with godly precision that makes your back arch every time. his free hand dips beneath your skirt, stroking through adorable, soaked panties before pushing them aside.

"been this wet since you crawled under my desk, huh?" his lips brush against your ear in a sinful whisper. "knew you would. always do when i ignore you a little."

he doesn't rush. he never does.

years of edging himself to animated girls meant he could drag this out until you're a trembling mess.

two fingers slide in slowly, curling against that spot that makes your thighs shake, thumb circling your clit in lazy, perfect loops. he watches your face the entire time—studying every flutter of your lashes, every awestruck look on your mouth—like he's speed-running your tells.

when you start clenching around his digits, he pulls them out, replacing them with the thick head of his cock, sinking into your soaking folds in one long, unrelenting thrust. your forehead drops to his shoulders as he wraps an arm around your back, holding you flush against him while he bottoms out.

"fuck," he breathes, the first real crack in his composure all day. "still so tight."

with that, he fucks right into you with deep, measured drives, hips snapping just enough to grind against your clit on every stroke. his hoodie bunches around his waist, your nails digging into the fabric over his shoulders.

somewhere in the haze, he reaches over and clicks his second monitor on again. a paused hentai scene fills the screen—some pretty anime girl easily folded in half, expression blissed out.

"compare for me," he murmurs against your throat, his filthy voice vibrating against your skin. "tell me if i'm doing it better than him."

you can't even form words, just a string of broken whines as he angles deeper, hitting that spot over and over with devastating accuracy that mirrors his perfect aim in games.

his endurance is disgusting; he's barely panting while you're falling apart on his uncharacteristically big dick.

when you finally cum, it's with his name on a sob, clenching so hard he finally groans, burying himself to the hilt and spilling his seeds inside you with slow, pulsing drags.

he doesn't pull out right away, though. the nerd knew how to fuck incredibly well. instead, he just keeps you in his lap, one hand rubbing your back as he watches you recover from your high through his glasses. his figurines watch from above like silent, approving sentinels.

"next time," he starts, lips gently brushing against your temple, "i'm photographing you next to the new scale. need better reference from the tremble in your thighs."

you laugh weakly against his neck.

he smiles, that rare, real one he does only for you, tightening his arms around your waist.

the antisocial geek who once ghosted you for days is gone. in his place is this quiet, awkward boyfriend who still blushes in public when you hold his hand, yet ruins you every night like it's his final boss clear.

🦭 mels note: hello! my initial plan was to get this idea done by valentines day as a surprise for you all but i got busy and ended up finishing it today :( besides that, i hope you enjoy! 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗎𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗈𝖺𝗁….

Park Sunghoon was the bane of your existence.

The University’s study lounge buzzes with the sound of students shuffling in their seats, flipping through textbooks, and tapping away on their laptops. But for you, the noise fades into the background as your thoughts are consumed by one person: Park Sunghoon. He's become the bane of your existence, infiltrating your mind at every turn.

You try to focus on your studies, desperately attempting to absorb the intricacies of musical composition and sound design. But you can't do anything, you can’t focus on your assignments, eat, drink or work on your laptop without thinking of him. Every time you open your textbook, his face flashes before your eyes, distracting you from the task at hand. It's infuriating how effortlessly he invades your thoughts  against your own will. 

Nayoung’s infatuation with Sunghoon has reached insufferable levels ever since they started hooking up. It's all she ever talks about, as if he's some kind of god among men. But for you, he's just another distraction, a nuisance that refuses to leave you alone. Since they started hooking up, she's been relentless, unable to shut up about their sexual exploits. He can’t be that good…

For you, it's all just noise. You're simply not interested.

While everyone else on campus is busy fucking like rabbits, you couldn't care less. It's like you're the only one on campus who hasn't been sucked into the sex craze. Your focus is on your studies and your future, not getting laid. It's a stark contrast, but you're fine with being the odd one out.

You try to tune out Nayoung’s incessant chatter, but her voice cuts through the air like a knife. "Shut up, shut up!" she exclaims, slapping your hands hastily and pulling you from your thoughts.

You pout in frustration, resisting the urge to snap at her. "I'm not even talking..." you mutter under your breath, huffing in exasperation as you shut your laptop screen down. It's futile to even attempt to get any work done with Sunghoon constantly looming in your mind, taunting you with his presence.

"He's here... He's here! Fuck, he's walking my way and staring at me," Nayoung’s flustered words fill the air as she nervously adjusts her hair, throwing quick glances toward the entrance. You can't help but shake your head at her worry. There's no need for her to fret or make last-minute adjustments, Nayoung is effortlessly attractive, her beauty undeniable and her personality sweetly infectious. She has this casual, confident vibe that's undeniably sexy. It's clear why everyone seems to be wrapped around her little finger.

Then there's Park Sunghoon, making his entrance as if it's the most natural thing in the world to draw every eye in the room. He walks with a confidence that borders on arrogance, an aura around him that's almost too intense. He seems to claim every space he steps into as his own, and today, the cafeteria turns into his domain.

He makes his way over and takes the seat right beside you, as if that spot had been waiting just for him. As he settles in, you find yourself involuntarily gulping a bit, suddenly all too aware of the intensity of his presence. It's undeniable, the aura he carries; a blend of confidence and an almost tangible allure fills the space, charging the air around you. The whole place falls into a hush, the kind of silence that screams of everyone's rapt attention on him, and inevitably, on you by association.

As you catch sight of Sunghoon turning his gaze towards Nayoung, your eyes roll almost instinctively. He reaches out, taking her hand with a gentleness that contradicts his commanding presence, his lips brushing against her skin in a soft kiss. Nayoung’s reaction is immediate; she gulps, visibly struggling to maintain composure, taken aback by the tenderness of his touch.

It's a moment that, despite your usual disinterest, makes you understand just a fraction of the allure that Park Sunghoon carries with him. He's a presence that's hard to ignore, drawing you into his orbit whether you're willing or not.

"We still on for tonight, baby?" Sunghoon's voice sends a shiver down your spine, momentarily silencing the room. Nayoung is completely captivated by him, lost in her own world, unable to form a proper response. But when you nudge her foot with yours, she coughs and says, "Yes, I'll be waiting for you." Her voice is low and sultry, a hint of anticipation laced in her words. "In my bed, all alone, with no clothes on," she continues, biting her lip seductively as she tilts her head and winks at him. "I'll be yours to play with all night long." Her gaze smolders with desire as she waits for his reaction, teasing him with the promise of what's to come.

Sitting beside you, Park Sunghoon has the kind of presence that's impossible to ignore. From what you've heard, the stories that swirl around campus, he's the quintessential heartbreaker, popular, with an air of cockiness that he wears as comfortably as the clothes on his back. He’s dressed casually today, yet every piece seems carefully chosen to accentuate his athletic build—a testament to his dedication as a football player. His fitted t-shirt clings in all the right places, paired with jeans that manage to be both casual and unmistakably deliberate in their fit. His hair, a perfect shade that catches the light, is styled in a seemingly effortless manner, falling just so to frame his striking features.

Sunghoon’s face is a canvas of attractive contrasts; sharp jawlines meet soft, inviting lips, and his eyes, deep and expressive, hold a hint of mischief. There’s a natural symmetry to his features that’s compelling, drawing you in despite any reservations. The easy smirk that often plays across his lips suggests a man who knows his allure and isn’t afraid to use it to his advantage.

But it's not just his looks that have earned him his reputation. He's known to be overconfident, a trait that, combined with his status as a football player, makes him all the more prominent in the social hierarchy of campus life. His charm is scandalous, wielded with the precision of someone who knows just how impactful they are. He's the epitome of a fuckboy, leaving a trail of whispers and rumors in his wake.

Yet, despite the warnings, the stories of hearts left in his path, there's something undeniably captivating about him. He's social, able to navigate any conversation with ease, drawing people in with a magnetism that's hard to resist. And fucking handsome? Absolutely. There's a reason every glance he throws seems to linger, every smile feels like it's meant just for the receiver. It's this mix of danger and allure that makes him an enigma .

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when you catch Sunghoon and Nayoung exchanging glances so intense, they could only be described as eye fucking. And you're almost certain he's touching her under the table. Casting a discreet glance their way, disbelief washes over you. Their boldness in such a public setting is startling—where's the sense of privacy, the modesty? It's a display that leaves you questioning the very notions of discretion and boundaries in social interactions. 

You assumed your silent judgment would go unnoticed, as usual. Being invisible had its perks; it let you navigate these social seas undisturbed, a mode of survival that had become your comfort zone. Yet, just as you side-eye the intimate display between Sunghoon and Nayoung, Jungwon catches your gaze. With a wink, he throws a comment your way, "Don't feel left out, I'll fuck you," assuming a familiarity that you've never invited. 

Your response is immediate and flat, "Shut up," hoping to quash the conversation then and there with your deadpan delivery.

But then Jay chimes in, laughter barely concealed in his voice, "Dude, she's not gonna fuck you, that's the girl who's waiting until marriage." 

At Jay's words, a familiar rumor audible for all to hear, you can't help but roll your eyes. It's not the first time your personal choices became the focus of campus gossip, yet it never gets easier to hear it discussed so openly.

In that moment, Sunghoon's gaze locks with yours, a brief encounter that feels like an eternity. His eyes, sharp and probing, offer no hint of his thoughts, leaving you floundering in their depths. The intensity of his stare is unexpectedly captivating, sending a jolt of weakness through you that's both unsettling and embarrassingly thrilling. Despite the rumors and the situation, you're forced to admit, Sunghoon is undeniably hot.

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it passes. Sunghoon breaks the eye contact, returning to his own world with an ease that suggests he's completely unfazed by Jay's comment. This reaction, or lack thereof, catches you off guard. You had braced yourself for a tease or a quip, something to match Jungwon and Jay's playful torment. Yet, Sunghoon's disinterest and quick dismissal of the conversation leave you in a curious mix of relief and disappointment. 

One day you’re gonna cut Park Sunghoon’s cock off. 

There’s no way he can make a girl scream that loud.

The frustration builds within you as you sit in your room, once again failing to focus on studying the medical procedures you need to know by tomorrow. And who’s to blame? Park Sunghoon, of course. It’s the second time today his fucking with Nayoung has derailed your concentration. Normally, living with her is a joy; she’s your best friend, your better half. But in moments like these, you wish you could live alone, away from the constant distractions of her sex life.

She gets laid a lot, it’s a regular occurrence in your shared apartment. She’s louder than she normally is tonight, her moans and screams echoing through the walls without a hint of restraint. You try to drown out the noise, burying your head in your textbooks, but it's futile. You can't focus, your mind consumed by thoughts of Sunghoon and his cock. 

(Unfortunately) 

Eventually, the noise subsides, and you cautiously step out of your room, relieved that Sunghoon seems to have finally left. But as you round the corner, a low, deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you freeze in your tracks. He's still here. 

Panic sets in as you realise how you're practically walking around naked in an oversized top and short shorts, no bra to conceal your exposed skin. You curse under your breath, desperate to escape to the safety of your room, but you know he'll see and hear you if you make a move now.

With no other option, you dart behind the sofa, thankful for its strategic placement that shields you from his view. Heart racing, you hold your breath, praying he doesn't notice you hiding just a few feet away.  

Unbeknownst to you, Sunghoon's attention isn't on Nayoung; he wouldn't have recognized your presence even if you made noise. You're pretty sure Nayoung doesn't realize you're here either. Sunghoon is shirtless, basking in the afterglow of sex, but his focus isn't on Nayoung; he's not even looking at her.

The moment he entered the house for the first time, Sunghoon became enamored. It felt as though he was right where he was supposed to be. His eyes lit up with surprise and thrill as he noticed certain things and items that caught his attention—things he found cool and eye-catching. Despite never having been in this house before, it felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

His eyes sparkled with a light that you should've seen, a light that no other girl had brought to him before. "How did you get this?" he asks Nayoung in awe, marveling at a rare Lego set. 

"I didn't. It's my roommate's," she replies, her features showing amusement and disinterest. You had so many nerdy and niche things lying around, and Nayoung found none of them interesting.

Sunghoon spots a rare album, one he's never seen anyone have before. "This is really cool. I didn't know you were into—"

 "Yeah, that's also my roommate's," Nayoung interrupts. 

Sunghoon shakes his head in amusement, his eyes landing on a book, ‘Normal People' by Sally Rooney.  "What about this?” 

"A birthday gift from my roommate. I haven't checked it out yet," Nayoung replies.

"Oh, you should. It's really cool," Sunghoon says, scratching his head. He's about to apologise, realising he's delving too much into your personal space. But then his eyes land on a bass guitar and the apology fails to slip from his tongue. "Do you play bass? I always say that my ideal woman—" Sunghoon catches himself, sighing as he realises Nayoung silence. "—does not play bass, because this is clearly your roommate's."

"She's in a band," Nayoung says simply. 

"Damn, that's cool," Sunghoon whispers. "What's she like?" 

You gulp nervously, wondering why Park Sunghoon wants to know about you. You’re not used to the feeling of someone being interested in you, you’re not used to someone wanting to find out more and uncover you. It's incredibly foreign and unfamiliar. 

“She's in the matrix, she's a whore," Nayoung says, and you open your mouth in shock. What the fuck? No, you were not!

Sunghoon chuckles, and you realise Nayoung was just joking. Her next words warm your heart. "She's the best person I've ever met. She's really chill and calm, sweet to everyone, and fair. She has a really good heart. She's different from everyone we see on campus, different in a good way. She's a bit of a nerd; her main worries in life are how to get the next rare Lego set or make sure she has enough time to balance being in her band, acing all her med exams, and doing all that volunteering and extracurricular crap. She's a breath of fresh air."

Nayoung shakes her head with a dry chuckle. "This is unbelievable. You just picked out all the things in here that belong to my roommate. You didn't even spare a glance at the stuff that's mine.”

Yeah, because they're not interesting, Sunghoon thinks.

Nayoung eyes all of your possessions and shakes her head. She turns to Sunghoon. "It's really weird stuff, and I'm really shocked you find it interesting. I didn't expect it from you. I've never seen someone as interested in it... other than you and my roommate."

“My roommate is into pretty weird stuff. She does these weird paintings of robots playing sports.” 

Sunghoon scratches his neck and nods. “Yeah, that’s weird…” (He thought it sounded pretty cool). 

“She also has this crazy habit of making breakfast food sing show tunes, I mean, it’s not that annoying because she’s an amazing singer, she’s in a band so I’ll give that to her.”

"So does your roommate's band ever play shows or...?" Sunghoon asks.

"Get out," Nayoung bluntly says, pointing her arm towards the door.

Nayoung sighs; this always happens. Nayoung had a roommate complex. Unbeknownst to you, guys always dug her roommate, you. Only you would never know the full extent or seriousness of this, as you would never return the affection or interest. You were robotic, denying all forms of affection, so nothing ever came from guys wanting to fuck you. Paired with the rumor that you were strictly Christian and waiting until marriage to fuck, yeah, you weren’t going to get laid anytime soon. 

She takes a seat on the sofa and nearly jumps when she sees you sleeping there soundly. She didn’t know that you staged this; you knew she’d come to the couch after Sunghoon left, so you had to pretend you were sleeping. You couldn’t let Nayoung or Sunghoon know that you had heard and witnessed that entire interaction. She smiles at you and covers you in the blankets fully, readjusting your head and dimming the lights. She wasn’t surprised that you drew attention without trying to or even knowing that people were into you. 

She did have a really fucking cool roommate.

The next morning, Nayoung looks sad, her shoulders slumped as she sits at the kitchen table, picking at her breakfast. You take in her demeanor, noting the furrow in her brow and the downturn of her lips. You have to put your acting skills to use, masking the knowledge of why she's upset with a concerned expression. You go to her immediately, your voice filled with worry, "What's wrong? Did he? I'm gonna kill him—"

Nayoung huffs softly, a mix of frustration and resignation in her breath. "We're gonna stop seeing each other," she explains, her voice tinged with sadness.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you're about to throw hands but she shakes her head and tells you to calm down, making ‘no’ motions, a small smile playing at her lips. She shakes her head and chuckles softly, "No, he did nothing wrong. I'm not gonna miss him. I know this was just sex, but god, he's really attractive and has a good personality. I'm not getting caught up, but wow, I just feel overwhelmed and intense. How can someone be such an attractive and hot person and know how to use his cock?"

You're at a loss for words, your voice catching in your throat as you struggle to find the right response. You were awkward when it came to emotional conversations, you didn’t know how to comfort someone! One to one intimate moments like this overwhelmed you. However, Nayoung drops a bomb that leaves you speechless and stunned.

"And he likes you."

You choke on your own breath, your eyes widening in disbelief as you shake your head vehemently. "Me? What? That’s absolutely ridiculous, Nayoung, no he doesn’t! He doesn’t even know who I am."

Inner turmoil consumes you as conflicting thoughts swirl in your mind. How could someone like Sunghoon possibly be interested in you? You've never exchanged a single word, never shared a moment beyond fleeting glances in passing. Logically, it doesn't add up; you're strangers. He revels in the chaos of getting high and fuckinf, while you find solace in quiet evenings, lost in the intricate world of LEGO creations and the soothing melody of your bass guitar. It's inconceivable that someone like him could find anything remotely intriguing in someone like you.

"I'm telling you. He likes you. It's true! He pointed out every single thing in the living room that was yours. He likes all the things you do. He's a nerd like you."

Your voice cracks with disbelief, your hands gesturing in denial as you try to process Nayoung's words. "Park Sunghoon? Nerd? He's far from... he's a fuckboy and a football player, he's popular and parties like there's no tomorrow, he smokes and does drugs and—"

"Y/N! You know better than to stereotype. Yes, he does party, is popular, and loves fucking, but he's more than that. He's obviously more than that, and it's not like he hides it. You're only seeing what you want to see. The image you have of him in your head is an image that is surface level. He's actually a good guy, he doesn’t think of himself as above people, and he's chill and kind. He aces exams, and he fucking knows about all the rare little Legos like you do, so he’s clearly a nerd!"

You sigh heavily, feeling a mix of frustration and realization wash over you. Nayoung was right. You were only seeing what you wanted to see. Your idea of him was so fixed and stubborn that you refused to look deeper, beyond the surface.

"It’s like you, Y/N. People only see you as that nerdy, quiet loner who doesn’t talk to anyone and doesn’t drink or party. People think you’re weird—"

"Gee, thanks a lot," you cut off Nayoung's words, sarcastically thanking her for her honesty.

"But I know that you’re way more than that! Your main focus may be your studies, but you’ve got so many cute little side interests! It all adds to your personality and it’s all important. It shouldn’t be overlooked. It makes you who you are. Not only are you a med student, but you’re also in a fucking band! You’re the bassist! It’s fucking hot and cool, Y/N. Park Sunghoon even asked for the name of your band."

What you knew about Park Sunghoon’s cock was against your own will. 

Nayoung’s words echo in your mind, each syllable sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. "Sunghoon’s literally so good at dirty talk," she continues, her voice dripping with excitement. "He knows exactly how to please a woman. He doesn’t just stick his dick in and out. He actually has superb technique." 

You breathe heavily, shutting your laptop once and for all. "If you and Sunghoon have stopped seeing each other then why are you telling me this?" you interrupt, unable to conceal the frustration in your voice. Nayoung and Yeji exchange a glance, their eyes twinkling mischievously as they exchange silent communication. It's like they're speaking a language that only they understand, leaving you feeling increasingly left out and confused.

Nayoung and Eunji exchanged a look, and it utterly confused you. They'd been giving each other these secretive glances for the past week, making you desperately wish you could tap into whatever little secret they were keeping. Yet, whenever you brought it up, they simply shifted the topic.

"You guys are seriously starting to annoy me," you finally snap, unable to contain your frustration any longer. "Can you just tell me whatever the fuck it is you’re thinking about?" You're met with a knowing smirk from both Nayoung and Eunji, their lips quirking into sly smiles as they continue to exchange secretive glances.

Nayoung leans in closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she continues to regale you with tales of Sunghoon’s abilities in the bedroom. "You know, Sunghoon’s not just about the physical stuff," she says cryptically, her gaze flickering with something you can’t quite decipher. 

Eunji nods in agreement, her lips quirking into a sly smile as she adds, "He’s got this way of making you feel like you’re the only woman in the world when he’s with you. Once he went down on me and I couldn’t walk for days."

Your eyes widen in surprise at Eunji’s revelation, feeling a mix of shock and arousal coursing through you. "When did you fuck him?" you blurt out, unable to conceal your curiosity. 

She just laughs, shaking her head as she brushes off your question with ease. "We’ve casually fucked from time to time," she says nonchalantly. "It’s not that shocking, Y/N. His body count is high, after he broke up with Arin, his cock has been unstoppable."

You huff in disbelief. "Who has he not fucked?" you mutter under your breath, your mind reeling with thoughts of Sunghoon's sexual conquests. 

"You," Nayoung and Eunji say simultaneously, their words hitting you like a ton of bricks. Silence falls over you as you process their words, feeling a strange mix of shock and excitement swirling inside you.

"What is that even supposed to mean?" you stammer, feeling a sense of unease creeping over you at their cryptic words. 

Nayoung just smirks. “Nothing. I’m just telling you how good he is in bed.” You had a feeling she was lying. She had her reasons and motives, ones you were far from understanding.

"And why is that of use to me?" you question, expecting an answer. You turn to Sunwoo when you’re met with silence from the girls.

"Sunwoo, help me," you nudge him from beside you, knowing you could trust your closest and oldest friend.

You sigh in relief when he turns to the two girls. “Leave her alone, this Sunghoon thing is ridiculous, he’s way out of her league.” His words bring you peace and you rest your head against his shoulder, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I love you, Y/N, but no one is out of Sunghoon’s league. If anything, it’s the other way around,” Nayoung retorts.

“Thanks a lot,” you snort.

“It’s not just you, everyone is out of his league,” Eunji clarifies.

“I’m not,” Sunwoo says dryly.

“You shut up!” Eunji points an accusing finger at Sunwoo. “I know you have protective, brotherly tendencies when it comes to Y/N, but you have to admit… our girl needs cock!”

He turns to you, a knowing smirk that only the two of you will understand. “You do really need to get laid though,” he says in a low voice. 

Nayoung goes back to praising Sunghoon for his sexual abilities. “And let me tell you, his dirty talk is next level,” 

A devilish grin spreads across Eunji’s face as she shares a smirk with Nayoung, recalling one of her past encounters with Sunghoon. “I’ve never had sex with someone who has such good timing and pace,” she confesses. "He knows exactly what to do with his cock, hands, and lips, and where to do it."

"He’s not just in it for himself, you know," Eunji adds, her tone serious as she looks you straight in the eye. "He genuinely cares about his partner’s pleasure. He’s the perfect person to experience all of your firsts with."

"Hey!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of indignation rising up inside you. "This feels very targeted and personal," you accuse, your voice cracking with frustration. "Where is this coming from?" 

You had never spoken a word to Park Sunghoon in your life. Sure, you noticed that he seemed to take an interest in your belongings around the apartment, but that wasn't enough to warrant Nayoung and Eunji sudden push to get you interested in him. It all felt too orchestrated, too deliberate, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their agenda than they were letting on. Despite their efforts to convince you otherwise, you remained skeptical about the idea of getting involved with someone like Sunghoon, especially considering your vastly different personalities and lifestyles.

"I'm not saying you have to jump into bed with him right away," Nayoung says, her voice softening with sincerity. "But maybe give him a chance. You might be surprised. I know what you're gonna say, 'He's the Park Sunghoon, campus fuckboy and resident player, we're in completely different leagues and scenes, and we'll never get along.'" Nayoung mimics your voice, and you narrow your eyes.

"I sound nothing like that!" you frown, realizing you sounded exactly like that.

"Just think about it, Y/N," Nayoung says, her voice tinged with excitement.

"I'm not gonna think about it, my mind is gonna be on the gig I have tonight. You guys better be there!" you declare. 

Nayoung's response comes with a gleam in her eye, a spark of something mischievous lurking beneath her casual assurance. "Oh, we wouldn't miss it for the world," she says, her glance sliding over to Yeji as they share a knowing look. They wink at each other, sealing a silent pact, the first stage of their mission to bring you and Sunghoon closer is already in motion. 

Sunghoon received a text from Nayoung, inviting him to meet for some drinks at the bar. The anticipation of a night filled with pleasure courses through his veins, driving him to accept the invitation without hesitation.

He goes because he anticipates getting laid. Sunghoon enjoyed the sex with Nayoung, as he did with any other girl. He had an insatiable appetite for sex, and he never shied away from indulging in it. However, he was always respectful and mindful of boundaries. His partners knew that he was only seeking physical satisfaction, and he made sure they felt just as much pleasure as they gave him.

It didn’t matter to him if Nayoung's personality didn’t align with his; he was solely focused on fulfilling his carnal desires. Feeling sexually frustrated, Sunghoon eagerly heads to the bar, eager to find release in Nayoung's company.

Feeling sexually frustrated and on edge, Sunghoon's steps quicken as he approaches the bar, the dim lights and pulsing music heightening his senses. He craves the distraction, the temporary oblivion that comes with losing himself in the warmth of another body. And so, with a determined stride, he pushes open the door.

As Sunghoon strides into the dimly lit bar, the air heavy with the scent of alcohol and anticipation, he feels a rush of excitement course through him. Dressed in a sleek leather jacket that hugs his form, he exudes an air of rugged charm and allure as he scans the room, his eyes alight with anticipation.

The bar is cast in shadows, a dimly lit sanctuary with a retro flair that gives it an air of timeless charm. Neon signs flicker softly against the dark walls, casting a warm, inviting glow over the eclectic mix of patrons. The atmosphere is a blend of nostalgia and mystery, each corner telling a story, each shadow holding a secret. Vinyl records adorn one wall, a nod to the classics, while the low hum of conversation and the clink of glasses provide a steady soundtrack to the night.

A familiar tingle zips through him, it’s an echo of the sensation he felt that first time he crossed the threshold into your apartment, a sense of rightness, of being exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Something shifts inside him. The retro vibe, combined with the sultry air, sets a scene that's both familiar and charged with new energy. Shadows dance across the walls, and the music's pulse syncs with his own heartbeat, signaling a night of unexpected turns.

Amidst the noise and the crowd, Sunghoon spots Nayoung. She's there, laughing, surrounded by friends, exactly where he should want to be. But he doesn’t move towards her. Instead, there's a compelling force, a curiosity leading him elsewhere, towards something—or someone—he hadn't anticipated.

It’s you. 

Amongst the faces, yours catches his gaze like a lighthouse in the fog. It's inexplicable, this sudden redirection of his night, his desires. Something inside him has decided, without a word, that the night was never really about Nayoung. It was about discovering what he didn't even know he was looking for—until now.

Perched on the stage, bathed in the soft glow of the neon lights, you exude a magnetic energy that draws him in like a match to its flame. You were breathtaking. Dressed in a mini skirt that accentuates every curve of your ass and thighs, paired with a top that leaves little to the imagination, you radiate confidence and sensuality that leaves Sunghoon spellbound.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as Sunghoon’s gaze locks with yours, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you. In that instant, he feels a surge of desire unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Who were you? He was sure that you were one of the students at the college, he was sure he had seen you before. He’s just shocked that this is the first time he’s recognising how hot you are. 

In that fleeting moment, as Sunghoon's eyes meet yours, time itself seems to pause, the air charged with an electric tension. His gaze, intense and unyielding, speaks of a yearning that goes beyond mere attraction, hinting at depths of desire that are raw and untamed. As your smile fades, replaced by a questioning frown, the atmosphere thickens with unspoken possibilities, a palpable sense of what could be.

The sudden break in your smile sends a pang through Sunghoon, a silent plea for the connection not to sever. The eye contact between you is a live wire, sparking with the potential to ignite. Amidst the crowd, amidst the noise, there's a silent conversation happening, a dance of glances that speaks volumes.

Your mind races with questions. Why was Park Sunghoon here? He was the campus heartbreak and residential fuckboy, the last person you’d expect to see you play. You always assumed no one ever found you interesting so why does his interest seem to settle on you tonight? His reputation precedes him, yet here he is, looking at you with an intensity that suggests a desire for something more profound than his usual pursuits. 

You weren't naive, why was he looking at you like he wanted you? Like he wanted to fuck you. Why now? His gaze, laden with an unmistakable intensity, seeks to pierce through the layers, to see beyond the facade everyone else sees.

Your band commands the space. The rhythm is captivating, a vibrant blend of guitar riffs and drum beats that fills the room with an infectious energy. You're on the bass, and it's clear this is a passion. The bass itself is a striking piece, its sleek, polished wood and the smooth curves of its body reflecting the stage lights.

As Sunghoon watches, he can't help but marvel at the skill in your fingers. The way they dance and glide over the strings, with precision and a sort of grace that's both powerful and delicate, stirs something unexpected in him. His gaze fixates on your hands, fingers moving in perfect harmony with the music, and a primal desire ignites within him.

The thought of those talented fingers exploring your own body, tracing every curve and fold, sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine. He imagines the sensation of your touch, firm yet gentle. Lost in the moment, Sunghoon feels a surge of arousal building within him, his breath hitching as he envisions your fingers delving deeper. 

What fucks him up even more is when you smile at him, such an innocent smile that makes his chest tighten with an unexpected surge of desire. It's a smile that lights up your entire face, eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through Sunghoon's veins.

As you lock eyes with him and smile, Sunghoon feels as though the air has been knocked out of his lungs. You look breathtaking, radiant in the soft glow of the stage lights, your beauty almost otherworldly in its intensity. Every curve and contour of your features seems to be highlighted. 

You had no idea what he was thinking, so oblivious to the effect you had on him. It was maddening how effortlessly captivating you were, how your mere presence could stir such intense longing within him.

He knows this is wrong, that he shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts, shouldn’t be so turned on by you. Desperately trying to regain control of his thoughts, Sunghoon attempts to focus on the other members of the band. They exude coolness, lost in the music and their own world. But for all their visual appeal, none of them compare to you.

In that moment, Sunghoon finds himself singularly captivated by you, unable to tear his gaze away as he succumbs to the intoxicating allure of your presence.

He’s not the only one. The energy of the room has shifted, centering on your presence on stage. It's palpable, the way you've drawn every eye towards you. You're undeniably magnetic, a fact made evident by the sea of faces turned in your direction, yet what truly fascinates Sunghoon, what truly fucks his mind, is your obliviousness to the effect you're having. You’re just lost in the music, not looking for any approval or basking in the spotlight. This contrast, between how much you stand out and your indifference to it, really catches him.

Though he can't hear your laugh over the music, he sees the way your shoulders shake, the brightness in your eyes, and he knows—it's a sound he wants to discover, to keep. A smile, unbidden, spreads across his face, mirroring the joy he sees in you. It's a strange, fluttery feeling that takes residence in his chest, a sensation both foreign and exhilarating. 

Nayoung makes her way through the crowd to him, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She leans in close, her fingers tracing a daring path down his back and over his thighs. Her touch, bold and teasing, makes his heart skip a beat. "You wish that was Y/N touching you, right?" she whispers, her voice a blend of mischief and suggestion.

Turning to face her, Sunghoon's eyes darken, a smoulder of intensity burning within them as he contemplated her words. "Y/N?" The name, unfamiliar and yet suddenly significant, rolls off his tongue.

Nayoung's nod is all the confirmation he needs. "Yeah, she's the one. She's my roommate," she reveals, each word painting a clearer picture in his mind.

"I'm off to Jake's house, but you're staying here, right? Y/N normally walks home from the bar. Maybe you could offer to walk her, maybe keep her company. Our apartment is going to be empty… use your imagination." With a final wink, she slips away.

As Sunghoon steps out into the cool night, he spots you alone under a streetlamp, the smoke from your cigarette curling into the night air. As you take another drag, the ember glows, casting a soft light on your features. He’s mesmerised by the sight, a girl smoking would always be hot to him, the sight of the smoke framing your face proves that. It gives you a mysterious vibe, making you appear all the more captivating and irresistibly sexy in his eyes.

Drawn to you, he moves closer and asks if he can join. Noticing his gaze linger, you offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. You offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. As he accepts, your fingers brush against his, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. There’s a charged energy in the way your gazes lock. As he inhales, his jawline becomes more pronounced, the smoke curling around him like a caress. There’s a deliberate slowness to his exhale, the smoke weaving between you, creating an intimate veil. 

As the conversation between you and Sunghoon progresses, you find yourself surprisingly at ease in his presence. Normally, you'd keep your guard up, especially around someone as notorious as Sunghoon, but tonight, there's something different. Before you realize it, you're drawing him in closer, the usual barriers falling away. You might have blamed it on alcohol, but you're sober, leaving the connection between you both intriguingly genuine.

Conversation starts light, with Sunghoon leaning in slightly, the warmth of the moment closing the distance between you. "Watching you tonight… I was taken aback, you’re really good," he says, his voice low and appreciative, tinged with genuine admiration.

You laugh softly, a bit of surprise flickering across your face at his observation. "I just love playing, didn't think anyone actually noticed," you reply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a hint of bashfulness in your smile.

"Oh, trust me, it's hard not to notice," Sunghoon continues, his gaze steady on you, making sure you understand he's talking about more than just the music.

You giggle, feeling a mix of flattery and nervousness under his focused attention. "Well, I'm glad you think so. I'm usually just hoping I don't mess up the chords," you respond, trying to maintain a lighthearted tone, even as his compliment sends a warm flutter through you.

"Mess up? I think you could play anything and make it sound incredible," he asserts, a playful yet sincere edge to his words. His flirtatious confidence is smooth, but it's his underlying earnestness that catches you off guard, drawing an unguarded smile from you.

The conversation flows, creating a comfortable yet charged atmosphere. Your laughter comes more easily. With a playful smirk, Sunghoon’s eyes trail down your figure, appreciating the way your tight top accentuates your curves and your skirt hugs your hips and thighs. “You look stunning,” he comments, his tone flirtatious yet respectful.

Blushing at his compliment, you giggle softly and playfully respond, “I thought I looked pretty today.”

Sunghoon’s gaze meets yours, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. “You look hot,” he says, his voice dripping with desire, sending a thrill down your spine.

Your cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink as you accept Sunghoon's jacket, letting out a soft giggle that speaks volumes of your appreciation and the fluttering emotions within. "Thank you," you manage to say, your voice light and airy, tinged with a mix of gratitude and a growing warmth that has little to do with the dropping temperatures around you.

The way Sunghoon looked at you changed everything. You had noticed his eyes when you were on the stage and you’re noticing it now. The opinions you had formed about him, the guard you had meticulously built up, the walls you constructed around yourself—all of it began to crumble the moment his gaze met yours. You found yourself inexplicably drawn towards him, a magnetic pull you couldn't resist. 

There's just something about him.

There's something about his eyes, particularly striking, that makes it impossible for you to look away. It's as if they hold a depth of understanding and kindness, captivating you, making you feel seen and acknowledged in a way that's disarmingly comforting.

There's something about his smile, too. It's genuine, radiant even, cutting through your defenses as if they were made of paper. His smile seems to speak directly to your soul, warming you from the inside out, and making the corners of your own lips twitch upwards in response.

You can't help but admit, there's something about him—something undeniably compelling that makes you feel like you’re rediscovering something familiar, a connection that's both unexpected and deeply welcome.

You start to shiver, you’re not sure whether it’s because of the weather or how he’s making you feel. Sunghoon, noticing your discomfort, doesn't hesitate. He smoothly takes off his jacket and places it over your shoulders. The sudden warmth from the jacket contrasts sharply with the cool air. 

As Sunghoon's jacket settles around your shoulders, the immediate sensation is one of warmth, the material soft against your skin. The jacket, slightly too large, feels like a hug, a protective barrier against the chill. But it's his scent that truly captivates you — infused with notes of wood and spice, subtle yet distinctly masculine. 

Sunghoon's gaze inadvertently falls on your arm. There, slightly peeking out from under the fabric, is a tattoo that immediately captures his attention. It's a butterfly, intricately designed, its wings seemingly crafted from delicate wisps of ashes, as if it has risen, reborn from the remnants of a past life. The detail is exquisite, symbolising transformation, resilience, and the beauty of emerging stronger from challenges.

"That's... I have the same tattoo," Sunghoon reveals, his voice tinged with disbelief and a newfound depth of connection. 

For a moment, the world seems to pause, the ambient noise of your surroundings fading into the background as you lock eyes. The eye contact is intense, it’s as if the discovery of your matching tattoos has unveiled a deeper layer of understanding, a serendipitous link that neither of you expected but both inherently feel.

The butterfly, for you, symbolizes a journey through personal trials, a testament to the strength it takes to rise anew. For Sunghoon, it represents a parallel path, a reminder of his own resilience and the transformative power of embracing change. 

You feel a surge of heat pooling in your core as he shifts slightly, his movements drawing you in closer. “Are you okay with me showing you?” he asks, voice low and husky, dripping with seduction. It sends a rush of heat straight to your core. You narrow your eyes, confused but nod immediately, your chest tightening and your eyes firing when you realise what he means. It’s a tattoo under his shirt, and the thought of him revealing it to you ignites a fiery desire within you.

Your heart races as you meet his gaze, your eyes smouldering with desire. With a deliberate yet sensual touch, you place your hand on his, stopping him from lifting his shirt. “Do you want to come home with me?” you whisper, surprised at how forward you’re being but this feels right. Your voice is laced with longing and need. You can feel the electricity crackling between you, the air thick with anticipation.

A wicked grin spreads across Sunghoon’s lips as he gazes at you, his eyes darkening with desire. “You can show me then. I have a tattoo on my thigh too that I want to show you,” you add, your words sending a surge of arousal through both of you. The tension between you is palpable, the desire for each other burning hotter with every passing moment.

Ultimately, you made the first move. The walk back home was charged with an energy that couldn't be ignored, an undeniable sexual tension that seemed to pull you both closer with every step. Heated glances were exchanged, each look sending a clear message of the attraction between you.

The moment the front door clicked shut, you seized him, your fingers digging into his shirt as you pulled him into you with an urgency that bordered on desperation. His lips crashed against yours like a tidal wave, igniting a firestorm of passion that consumed you both. It was a kiss fueled by the electric charge that had crackled between you since the moment you laid eyes on each other.

His lips were like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through your veins. He knew exactly how to move his lips against yours, each brush and caress igniting a blaze of longing deep within you. The taste of him, a heady blend of musk and spice, lingered on your lips, driving you to explore every inch of his mouth.

His tongue traced the outline of your lips with a teasing flick, coaxing them to part with an insistence. His tongue delved deep into the recesses of your mouth, seeking out every hidden corner with an eager hunger. Your tongues tangled together with a longing that left you both breathless. With each stroke and caress, the intensity of the kiss grew. 

His arms encircled your waist, pulling you impossibly close until there was no space between you, his body pressing against yours with a delicious urgency. You tangled your fingers in his hair, each touch and pull of his hair igniting a wildfire of need within you.

As you stumbled blindly through the room, knocking over objects in your path, you couldn't bring yourself to care about the mess you left in your wake. You knocked over one of your lego sets, one that took endless hours to build but in that moment, all that mattered was kissing him, the taste of him on your lips, and the overwhelming need that consumed you both.

Sunghoon’s hands are rough and eager as he rips your top off, the fabric tearing with a satisfying sound that echoes in the room. He wastes no time in unzipping your mini skirt, but the tightness proves to be a challenge. You both share a moment of laughter, the sound muffled by your desperate kisses, as he struggles to pull it down your legs. 

Giggles mix with moans as you continue to ravage each other. You dragged him impossibly closer, as if trying to meld your bodies together into one. His arms wrapped around you, his hands roaming over your back and shoulders, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You detach your lips for just a moment, recapturing your breath, then you leap into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. The sensation of his body against yours was electrifying. Your breath mingled with his, hot and heavy against each other’s mouths as you panted and moaned. 

"Who's home?" he breathes out, desperation lacing his words, a different side of him emerging with a heavier, more urgent tone.

"No one. Just us," you reply, your voice a low, throaty moan, thick with desire.

You've heard Chaeyoung talk about her experiences with him, listened to her descriptions of how it felt to fuck him. You knew more about what you were getting yourself into than you let on. She had mentioned how he was softer in the beginning, but that wasn't what you wanted.

"I don't want you to hold back. I don't want you to be soft," you pant out, the words dripping with raw need and insatiable longing. "I want you to fuck me like you mean it," you demand, your voice husky with desire, your eyes blazing with primal hunger.

In response, he lets out a low, primal moan, almost a growl, that resonates deep within you, setting your senses ablaze and igniting a fire in the depths of your core.

He throws you onto the bed, a rush of exhilaration coursing through you as you land with a soft thud. His lips remain locked with yours, refusing to break the connection as he positions himself on top of you.

With a fierce determination, he discards your lace bra and thong, his hands moving with precision and purpose. As you lay exposed before him, you feel the heat in his eyes, a primal desire burning bright as he admires every inch of your bare form. His growl of appreciation sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that can only be quenched by his touch.

Between kisses, he whispers, "You don't know how much I've wanted to see every inch of your skin like this," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. His lips continue their exploration, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. He murmurs, "I've been thinking about you all night long,"

Between kisses, he whispers, "Thinking about how you'd moan my name as I take every inch of you," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. "The feeling of your body underneath mine, how it would arch and tremble," he continues, his breath hot against your skin. "Feeling your tight pussy gripping me.” He confesses, his words sending a surge of heat straight to your core. 

Your whimper, feeling utterly speechless, yet you manage to muster one pleading request. "Take your clothes off," you whine, pouting as the realisation sinks in that he remains fully clothed against your bare skin. 

He responds with a shake of his head, a smile dancing on his lips. "Not now," he murmurs before returning his focus to admiring every inch of your body. "You're so fucking pretty," he purrs, his voice low and husky with desire as he drinks in the sight of you. He groans softly, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your beauty, longing to taste every inch of your skin.

His body presses down against yours with unyielding force, the weight of him grounding you to the mattress. You can feel every contour of his form pressing into you, every muscle tense with desire as he hungrily devours you.

The sensation of him against you is overwhelming, a reminder of his presence as he presses closer, leaving no space between you. Your breath hitches when you feel the unmistakable hardness of his cock rubbing against your thigh, igniting a fire of need within you.

As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses in his wake. Each touch leaves behind a mark of his possession, a hickey to brand you as his own in the heat of the moment.

As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a scorching path of hot, wet kisses in his wake. His kisses are possessive and rough, each touch a declaration of his dominance as he claims you as his own. With each press of his lips against your skin, he leaves behind a red mark of his possession, his lips tugging at your skin with a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, leaving behind teeth marks that throb with a sensation that borders on ecstasy.

With a lingering kiss that sets your senses ablaze, he teases your lips before trailing down your body with determined intent. Each movement is deliberate, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine.

As he reaches your nipples, he captures them between his lips with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His tongue dances across your sensitive peaks, tracing intricate patterns before swirling around them in long, languid strokes. The sensation is electric, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you as he sucks and licks with an insatiable hunger.

"Fuck," you moan, your voice dripping with need as he drives you wild with pleasure. "Sunghoon," you urge, your fingers grasping at his hair as you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensation.

"Harder," you demand, your voice laced with desperation as you beg for more of his intoxicating touch. "I need you to make me cum," you whimper, your body arching towards him as he complies with your wishes, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment and you can’t help but feel his smirk against your skin. 

With every tug of his hair, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through you, intensifying the already overwhelming sensation of his mouth on your nipples. As he trails scorching kisses down your body, every touch sets your skin ablaze with desire, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. His lips linger over every inch of your flesh, igniting a firestorm of need that consumes you from within.

"That's it, good girl, cum for me," he murmurs against your skin, his voice a sultry whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His head rests against your thigh, his gaze locked with yours as he watches you with dazed eyes, the intensity of his stare driving you wild with desire.

"Keep your eyes on me when you cum," he demands, his voice low and deep, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. You whimper in response, your hands trembling as you remove them from covering your face, laying them by your sides as your orgasm approaches rapidly.

As he locks his hands with yours, his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, his fingers coaxing and guiding you towards ecstasy. "Cum all over my tongue, pretty girl, can you do that for me?" he urges, his voice a husky growl that ignites a firestorm of need deep within you.

As the tension coils tighter within you, you feel your release building, a primal urge threatening to consume you entirely. With a tight grip on his hands, you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, your body trembling with anticipation.

The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, your senses overwhelmed as you feel yourself spiraling into ecstasy. Behind closed eyelids, flashes of intense pleasure dance across your vision, colors swirling in a sensation.

He smashes his lips against yours, the kiss suffocating but so hot and heated that it sends a jolt of desire coursing through your veins. As he breaks away from the kiss, his words hang in the air, a response to the desire you had expressed earlier.

You notice a shift in him, a different look in his eyes that sends a thrill of excitement down your spine. There's a hot, intense side to him that you hadn't expected, a side that turns you on more than you could have imagined.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” Sunghoon whispers huskily, his lips trailing languid kisses all over your face. 

His gaze softens with anticipation as he waits for your response, and you find yourself ready to comply. You nod eagerly, but he just tuts, wanting a clear answer.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he says, his voice a mixture of softness and anticipation, contrasting with the demanding tone in his voice. He's really asking you? You hadn't expected this, never experienced this level of openness and desire before.

"I - I..." you begin, stumbling over your words, unsure how to articulate your deepest desires.

"Baby, don't hold back," he tuts gently, his index finger resting at the bottom of your chin, keeping your gaze locked on his.

"Don't laugh at me," you pout. 

"Why would I do that?" His voice deepens, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he reassures you with his words.

 "I - I want you to be rough," you finally admit, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want you to slap me, choke me, spit on me. I don't want you to be gentle. I want to see if you live up to the hype of being this 'sex god' that everyone claims you are. I - just do whatever you want to me. Use me and control me."

Your confession leaves you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you await his reaction. You gasp in shock at your own words, your eyes widening in disbelief at the boldness of your desires. But as you look into his eyes, you see nothing but desire and hunger reflected back at you, fueling the fire of anticipation burning between you.

His movements are confident and commanding as he grips your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. You dare not look away, captivated by the raw desire burning in his eyes. With his other hand, he traces the curves of your body, his touch rough and demanding, igniting a fire within you.

As his fingers trail lower, teasing your already sensitive peaks, you gasp at the electrifying sensation. A low growl escapes his lips as he feels how wet you already are, his finger slipping effortlessly into your eager heat.

“Fuck, you’re already dripping?” he murmurs, his voice laced with desire and disbelief. “I haven’t even touched you yet, needy slut.” 

You moan as his fingers slide effortlessly into your eager heat, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body. He doesn't hold back, pushing deeper with each thrust, stretching you to accommodate his every movement. The rough pads of his fingertips brush against your sensitive walls, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, craving more of his intoxicating touch.

He adds another finger, and then another, the stretch deliciously overwhelming as he fills you completely. You can feel the pressure building, the tight coil of pleasure threatening to unravel at any moment. His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent and relentless as he drives you closer to the edge. You can't help but cry out, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

With each stroke, he pushes you closer and closer to the brink, until finally, you shatter into a million pieces, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as you succumb to the overwhelming pleasure he's given you.

"I want you to eat me out –" you manage to breathe out, your voice trembling with anticipation and need.

With a hungry glint in his eyes, Sunghoon positions you just how he likes, spreading your legs wide as he settles between them. His touch is demanding, yet precise, as he dips his fingers between your slick folds, reveling in the wetness that greets him. Already, he's moved his head down, and you eagerly cage it between your thighs, your breath hitching in anticipation.

Throwing your legs around his shoulders, you pull him closer, urging him to delve deeper. And delve he does, his tongue tracing intricate patterns along your throbbing heat, each stroke sending jolts of electricity coursing through your body. There's no gentleness in his approach; he's forceful, relentless, determined to devour you whole.

He attacks your clit with fervor, his tongue flicking against it with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place as he intensifies his assault, his head bobbing between your legs as he drives you to the brink of ecstasy.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he growls against your sensitive flesh, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. He's not content until you're a writhing mess beneath him, lost in a sea of pleasure that only he can provide.

Your moans fill the room, broken and desperate, as he takes you higher and higher, pushing you closer to the brink with each skilled stroke of his tongue. But just as you close your eyes to savour the moment, his hand comes down hard on your pussy, giving you a sharp slap. "I told you to look at me when you cum," he growls, his voice a commanding presence that leaves you breathless. You let out a moan, not expecting to be so turned on by this. It sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through you. 

With a small nod, you oblige, opening your eyes to meet his gaze, letting him see the raw, unbridled desire written across your face. You're completely at his mercy, your body aching with need as he continues to devour you with his mouth.

He sucks dry every last drop of your pleasure, his praises ringing in your ears like a symphony of desire. 

He presses his lips against your throbbing core with a mouthy and wet kiss. "Good girl," he murmurs, his words a soothing balm to your fractured senses. "Such a pretty cunt," he adds, his voice a husky growl as he admires your pussy. 

And as you come down from the dizzying heights of ecstasy, you're left panting and trembling in his arms, completely spent and utterly satisfied. 

As Sunghoon pulls back from devouring you, his eyes blaze with unquenchable desire, hungry for more of you. Your body trembles with anticipation, aching for his touch as you meet his intense gaze, silently begging for him to fulfill your craving.

“Please, Sunghoon,” you plead, your voice thick with need, your fingers grasping at the sheets beneath you. “I need you inside me.” His grin is wicked, a mirror of your own desire, as he savors your desperation, relishing the power he holds over you.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” he purrs, the husky timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You nod fervently, a smile tugging at your lips as your hands reach for his top, swiftly pulling it over his head. Your fingers trace over his bare chest and abs, the sight of his toned physique eliciting a gasp of admiration. His chest and abs glisten in the dim light, sculpted to perfection, each muscle defined with precision. 

Your breath hitches with each passing moment, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with every heartbeat. Fingers trembling, you reach for his belt, your urgency evident in the way you fumble with the buckle. With a swift motion, he pulls it down himself, his boxers following suit, revealing his hardened length. You gasp at the sight, your eyes fixated on his cock as you reach out instinctively. He groans in response, his voice strained with desire as he warns, "Don't, baby. I won't last."

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your parted thighs, his throbbing cock poised at your entrance, close yet agonisingly out of reach. You can see it in his eyes, and the way he's looking at you, he's going to go soft despite his earlier promises of roughness. 

As you express your disappointment with a soft whine, he silences you with a gentle shake of his head. "Trust me, baby, I'm big," he whispers in a husky tone, his words sending a thrill through you.

"I don't care. I still want you to be rough with me," you assert, your desire palpable in your voice.

He shakes his head once more. “You don't want me to be too rough for the first time," he explains softly, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Maybe next time," he adds with a teasing wink, prolonging the anticipation as he plays with your desires.

As his lips crash against yours in a breathy kiss, a symphony of moans escapes from the depths of your souls, mingling in the air like sweet melodies of desire. Each touch of his lips against yours ignites a fire within, sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin. With every exhale, you both moan into each other’s mouth. 

He backs away from your lips too early for your liking. With a devious glint in his eyes, he teases, testing your patience and leaving you craving more. 

You grow increasingly impatient when he doesn’t move, he smirks, he’s teasing you, testing your patience. Your whimpers become more urgent with each passing moment. “Please,” you beg for any type of movement 

But he continues to toy with you, his smirk widening as he revels in your desperation. “I don’t know, should I let you have my cock?” he taunts, his voice dripping with desire and dominance. 

You deadpan. “Your cock is literally inside of my vagina right now—”

“Do you really think you deserve it?” he says, his voice low and dark, sending shivers down your spine.

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you match his tone. You find yourself enjoying the charged atmosphere, how comfortable it feels with him. You find yourself holding back a grin. "I bet you're not even that big," you retort. 

“Oh?” he says, a smirk playing on his lips as he closes the distance between you, his gaze burning with intensity.

As he thrusts into you with relentless force, you feel an overwhelming mix of pleasure and discomfort wash over you. His cock is so thick, stretching you to your limits with each deep penetration. You whimper, struggling to adjust to his size, but he shows no mercy, drilling into you with undefeated determination.

His movements are harsh and unforgiving, his hips driving forward with brutal force as he claims you as his own. Each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, leaving you trembling with need. You moan uncontrollably, unable to form coherent words as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“You’re so big,” you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, your words breathy with a hint of disbelief in your voice as you feel him filling you completely. But his response is cold and mocking.

“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. “Now stay there and fucking take it.”

As his hips collide with yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a rhythmic symphony of lust and desire. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, your moans echoing off the walls as you surrender to the raw intensity of his touch.

He fucks you with a primal urgency, his movements rough and demanding as he claims you as his own. His cock drives into you with relentless force, stretching you to your limits and filling you completely with each deep penetration. You can feel every inch of him inside you, his hardness pressing against your most sensitive spots and sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you.

His cock pounds into you relentlessly, driving deep into your slick heat with each forceful thrust. You can feel every inch of him stretching you, pushing you to your limits as he claims you as his own. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and pain that only serves to fuel your desire for more. “More,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper.

"Beg for it, beg for my cock deeper inside you," he commands, his voice dripping with desire and dominance. As his words hang in the air, you feel his hands gripping your thighs, pulling your legs around his waist. With a swift movement, he positions you exactly how he wants, allowing for deeper penetration and intensifying the sensations between you. This change in angle sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, pushing you both to new heights of ecstasy. With each thrust, he buries himself deeper inside you, his cock filling you completely as you cling to him, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.

"Harder, please," you plead, your voice trembling with need as you yearn for him to give you everything he's got. Your body craves the intensity of his touch, the roughness of his thrusts driving you wild with desire. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, desperate for him to take you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

He obliges, increasing the tempo of his thrusts, his movements becoming more urgent as he drives himself deeper into you. The sound of your moans fills the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin, loud moans and your headboard creaking. 

With each merciless thrust, your body succumbs to the relentless assault, every movement driving you closer to the brink of ecstasy. The raw power of his domination leaves you breathless, your senses consumed by the overwhelming pleasure he bestows upon you. You teeter on the edge of climax, every nerve ending ablaze with desire, craving release like never before.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan desperately, your plea echoing through the room, but instead of granting you release, he chuckles darkly, a sinister sound that sends a shiver down your spine. 

With a cruel twist, he wrenches his cock back, the abrupt movement sending a jolt of pain coursing through you. His gaze is unforgiving, a menacing glint in his eyes as he stares down at you, relishing in your torment. Your whimpers of protest only fuel his cruel pleasure, a smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your frustration.

“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he taunts, his voice dripping with contempt as he watches you squirm beneath him. “Do you think you deserve to cum?” His words are like daggers, each one laced with venom as he taunts and belittles you, his dominance asserting itself with every syllable. “Only good girls deserve to cum.” 

Sunghoon’s anger is palpable as he flips you onto your back, the force of his movement taking you by surprise. Your heart races with anticipation, knowing that his roughness is a sign of his frustration. You can feel the tension in the air as he shifts you onto all fours, his movements primal and commanding.

“Spread your legs wider,” he demands, his tone brooking no argument. “That’s it,” he murmurs. 

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your legs, his grip on your hips firm and unyielding. “Hold onto the headboard,” he orders, his voice commanding obedience. You obey without hesitation, your nails digging into the wood as he takes you from behind.

Each forceful thrust elicits a gasp from your lips, the intensity of his desire overwhelming your senses. “You like it rough, don’t you?” he taunts, his words punctuated by the sound of skin slapping against skin. “Tell me how much you want it,” he demands, his voice rough with desire.

In the heat of the moment, his anger fuels his actions, his movements rough and unyielding. As he fills you completely, you’re overwhelmed by the sensation, your senses flooded with pleasure. Gasping for air, you’re left breathless, the intensity of his desire consuming you.

Each powerful thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, driving you further toward the edge of ecstasy. Your ass meets his thighs with each forceful movement, the impact sending a shiver down your spine. He takes advantage of your vulnerability, delivering sharp slaps to your pussy, each one igniting a fire within you.

With a forceful grip, he fists your hair back, tilting your head upwards to expose your neck to him. He leaves bruises and hickies along your skin, marking you as his own. His grip tightens, asserting his control over you, his hands roaming possessively over your body.

With a firm grip on your hips, he dictates the rhythm of his thrusts, each one a testament to his dominance. Your arms are held in place, you're left feeling exposed, entirely at his mercy. “I could fuck you like this forever,” he muses in a dark whisper 

As he relentlessly pounds into you, his cock stretching you beyond your limits, tears well up in your eyes. The sheer force of his thrusts drives you to the brink of madness, each movement sending waves of both pleasure and pain rippling through your body.

“You really thought you could handle me?” he taunts, his voice dripping with disdain as he continues to ravage you without mercy. His words cut through you like a knife, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath his intense gaze.

Despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through you, there’s a perverse sense of pleasure that accompanies the pain and humiliation. You find yourself surrendering to him completely, lost in the primal rhythm of his thrusts and the raw power he exudes.

Your cries mingle with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the room filled with the symphony of your shared desire. “That’s it,” he growls, his voice low and menacing. “Take it all”

Each thrust drives you closer to the edge of sanity, your body trembling with the exquisite torment of his rough ministrations. The pleasure-pain dichotomy consumes you entirely, leaving you lost in a haze of ecstasy and agony.

You feel completely overwhelmed by him, your senses drowning in the intoxicating cocktail of desire and desperation. The need to please him at any cost drives you to new heights of submission, your every thought and action dedicated to his satisfaction.

His reaction is one of twisted satisfaction, his grin a sinister reflection of the dominance he wields over you. He takes perverse pleasure in your tears, viewing them as a testament to his power and control. With each sob that escapes your lips, he revels in the knowledge that he holds your very soul in his hands, a willing captive to his every whim.

“I-I’m so close,” you gasp out between ragged breaths, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, let me cum.”

His response is immediate and commanding. His hands wrap around your throat with a firm grip. As he tightens his hold, you feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, intensifying the sensations overwhelming your body. At the same time, his other hand delivers a sharp, stinging spank to your cheek, sending a jolt of mixed pleasure and pain radiating through you.

“You don’t get to cum until I say so,” he growls, his voice low and authoritative. “Remember that.”

"Please," you beg, your voice strained with desperation. "I need you to cum inside me. Fill me up." 

His resolve breaks at your plea, his control slipping as he gives in. Sunghoon ravages you mercilessly, his own release momentarily forgotten as he focuses solely on driving you to the brink of pleasure. His hands roam over your trembling body, his touch igniting sparks of electricity that dance along your skin. He holds you close and with one final thrust, he sends you hurtling over the edge into blissful oblivion.

As the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Your body trembles with anticipation, every nerve ending alive with sensation. With a primal cry, you shatter into a million pieces, your orgasm consuming you completely. Waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you gasping for air as you ride the euphoric high.

Shortly after, with a primal roar, he releases inside you, his hot seed flooding your depths as you both reach the peak of ecstasy together. Waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you breathless and sated in each other's embrace.

He removes his cock from you, a mixture of wetness and cum slipping out in its wake. With a firm grip, he manhandles you, turning you around to face him. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a complete contrast to the roughness with which he just fucked you. Using his thumb, he wipes away the mascara trailing down your face, his expression softening as he takes in your fucked-out appearance. 

Your eyelids droop with exhaustion, but before you can succumb to sleep, he speaks with a gentleness that catches you off guard. "Don't sleep just yet. I need to get you cleaned up." The difference in his tone leaves you feeling dizzy and confused, his soft eyes meeting yours.

Later on, you’re all cleaned up, thanks to him running a bath for you and cleaning your body with your favorite scent of soap. There were lingering kisses and massages, and he even sat in the bath with you, sharing in the intimacy of the moment. Now, you’re in your pajamas, feeling cozy and comfortable, then he asks if he can stay. It’s late so you nod in agreement. That was the only reason. He settles onto your bed, his eyes closing with a contented smile.

But suddenly, you get up, breaking the serene atmosphere. “I need to clean the apartment,” you declare, and he laughs at first, thinking it’s a joke. However, his expression turns serious when he realises you’re not joking.

‘Did the four positions and the five times I made you cum not make you sleepy?’ He questions from behind you. 

You turn to him, shaking your head. “It was not four —”

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks as he lists them off. “Missionary, from the back and then against the wall in the shower. You also rode my cock in the shower.’ His words send a shiver down your spine and you gulp. Where did this sex drive come from? 

“I just counted, and I made you cum six times,” he adds with a satisfied grin.

You roll your eyes. “Do you count the amount of times you’ve made a girl cum for every girl you sleep with?” 

He winks, his voice bringing chills to your spine. “Only you.” 

As he leans down beside you, your heart skips a beat. “What do you need help with?” he asks, his gaze locking deeply with yours. Despite the tired lines etched on his face, he alludes such an effortless attractiveness. He was incredibly magnetising and radiant, basking in a sex afterglow.

Your voice is soft and gentle as you speak. “We dropped so many lego sets… I could do with some help putting them back together.”

He smiles warmly and nods, his tired eyes twinkling with affection. "Let's do it."

As you both delve into the intricate world of Lego, your fingers deftly reassembling the scattered pieces, you find yourself opening up to Sunghoon in a way you never have before.

“You know… no one ever wants to build them with me, this is quite surprising,” you admit, your eyes fixated on the task at hand.

He hums in response, his attention fully captured by your words. “It’s not common for people in their 20s to be into Lego,” he remarks, his tone tinged with curiosity.

As you delve into the details of your Lego collection, Sunghoon’s genuine interest shines through. He listens intently as you recount the origins of each set, marking the first time you’ve shared this hobby so thoroughly. “I got this one from a fair I went to when I was 12, my uncle got me this one, Nayoung got me this one,” you explain, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips.

His curiosity peaks as he spots a rare Lego set on your shelf, one he surprisingly recognizes by name. “How the fuck did you get that one?” he asks, pointing directly at it.

You respond with a deadpan expression, “I camped out at 3am in the winter to get it.” The absurdity of the situation hits both of you at once, sparking uncontrollable laughter.

Sunghoon, catching his breath, manages to say, “Tough,” with a mix of admiration and amusement in his voice.

“Did anyone get you this one?” Sunghoon points at a very rare and expensive set, his eyes glowing with awe. It’s one that was already made, one of your prized possessions, you were glad it was still in tact. 

You giggle, a smile lighting up your face as you give him the go-ahead to touch it. You don’t let anyone touch your Lego collection. Especially that set. 

An immediate smile lights up your face, and you nod. “Sunwoo got me that one,” you say, relishing the memory. It was one of his random gifts, one that cheered you up when you needed it most.

“Kim Sunwoo? You’re friends with him?” Sunghoon’s curiosity peaks, his surprise at the mention of Sunwoo not shocking you.

You nod. “My best friend.”

“You seem really different from each other,” Sunghoon observes.

“We are,” you agree. It’s a common observation, one that you’ve heard countless times before. Sunwoo spends his time getting high and indulging in casual sex; he’s the ultimate fuck boy. But despite his wild ways, he’s also your best friend. He’s intense, but you need him in your life. “People say opposites attract, we balance each other out well. Plus, I’ve known him since we were kids.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t spend your time getting laid because the things you were doing when we were fucking… it takes experience to —”

You interject with a soft whisper, “I’m not a virgin.” You anticipate a reaction from him, but he surprises you by simply smiling and nodding in acknowledgment.

“It was clear when I was fucking you,” he explains calmly, “I could tell it wasn’t your first time.”

Your laughter fills the room, accompanied by a blush coloring your cheeks. “It’s just that there’s a ridiculous rumor that goes around that I’m some Christian girl who’s waiting until marriage and that I’m untouched when it’s not true.”

Sunghoon’s curiosity persists. “Why did that rumor start?”

Shrugging slightly, you respond, “I don’t even know… I guess people just see me as a quiet and shy person and automatically equate that to me being innocent and clueless. I’m very private; I keep my sexual life on the low. I don’t gossip about it or talk about things like that openly, even to my closest friends. They’re my best friends, so they know I’ve had sex before, but they still join in on the joke that I’m a Christian virgin just to wind me up.”

As Sunghoon hums thoughtfully, you sense his presence beside you, his silence speaking volumes. Despite not responding verbally, you know he's listening intently, absorbing every word you say. His attentive demeanour reassures you, reminding you that he's there, fully engaged in the conversation. It's a rare quality that you appreciate, his ability to be present and attentive without the need for constant verbal affirmation. 

“Why did you start playing bass?” Sunghoon’s question catches you off guard, his gaze lingering on the eccentric blue bass in the corner of the room in a way that makes your head spin.

You can’t help but giggle at his curiosity. “I was kinda forced to, actually.”

“Really?” His surprise is evident in his voice.

You nod, recalling how Sunwoo had roped you into joining his band. “It’s Sunwoo’s band, and he needed a bass player. He decided it was going to be me, so he taught me how to play. He’s very serious about his band, you know. His major is music, so it makes sense. Sunwoo’s good at everything. He can sing, rap, dance, and play any instrument. I’m the bassist in the band, but he’s better than me at playing it.”

Sunghoon shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t say that. You’re such a natural at playing bass.”

You offer him a grateful smile in return, touched by his compliment.

“I didn’t see Sunwoo at the gig, though,” Sunghoon observes, his gaze lingering on your face.

“Or Winter,” you add, a burst of laughter escaping your lips. Sunghoon’s eyebrow quirks up in confusion.

“She’s our main vocalist and plays piano. She wasn’t there either because Sunwoo was balls deep inside of her,” you explain, amusement evident in your voice. “She’s our fifth main vocalist, and we’re probably gonna need to replace her soon. Sunwoo keeps fucking the main vocalists in the band, and they always leave because it makes everything awkward and tense.”

Sunghoon shakes his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Sounds like him.”

You nod in agreement, a knowing look passing between you. “He can’t keep his fucking cock in his pants. Always has to go fuck the woman in the group.”

Sunghoon chuckles in response, the sound warm and genuine.

You and Sunghoon have been talking for what felt like hours.

The ease of conversation made it feel like you've known each other for much longer. You didn’t expect to have so much in common with him, you didn’t expect the conversation to flow as smoothly as it did, you also didn’t expect for him to actually stay, especially after you had finished having sex.

His confidence and appeal enhance the atmosphere. Sunghoon's casual demeanor sets the tone the moment he begins to speak, his confidence is almost dripping from him, as if it's part of the very air around him. He's got this cool, laid-back vibe that's utterly captivating, standing here in your apartment as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Sunghoon's gaze holds yours, an unspoken intensity lingering in the way he looks at you. There's an undeniable attractiveness in his focus, in the deliberate way he gives you his undivided attention. Each time he listens, it's with an intensity that makes the moment stretch, filling it with an undeniable tension. 

His eyes, expressive and deep, seem to capture and reflect every flicker of emotion, making the connection between you feel both electrifying and profoundly intimate. His smile, when it breaks, is like a slow dawn, gradually illuminating his features and warming the space between you.

You bond about little things but in retrospect they were big, they were such specific and unique things, things that were so special to you.

You give him a tour of your apartment, showing him around with a sense of pride. Each room holds a piece of you, and you’re eager to share it with him. As you lead him through the space, you point out your prized possessions, sharing the stories behind each one.

“This is where I keep my vinyl collection,” you explain, gesturing towards a shelf filled with records. He pauses, running his fingers over the sleek covers with a sense of appreciation.

“Your taste is… amazing.” 

He believes in those words even more when you show him your book collection, you're surprised to find that Sunghoon has read them all. You point out one of the most important books to you, ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’ and as you're about to recite your favourite line, he says it at the same time as you. “One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs, or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.” you both say in unison, the words echoing in the room.

The eye contact that follows is strong and intense, making you feel weak in the knees. You want to look away, but you can't tear your gaze from his. He's captivating, and in that moment, you feel a magnetic connection that transcends words.

You sit surrounded by your closest friends in a secluded corner of the student lounge. You and Eunji are working on university assignments and projects, both studying musical arts. The steady hum of youthful chatter and the clatter of laptop keys fail to distract you. You’re here but you’re not really here. The noise around you fades into the background as thoughts of Sunghoon consume your mind every time you close your eyes. 

Your mind relentlessly replays the sensation of Sunghoon's lips against yours, the way his hands explored every inch of your body, and the intensity in his eyes as he gazed at you. The memory of his touch lingers, leaving you dazed and confused. And then there's his cock, thick and pulsating with desire, the mere thought of it sending a shiver down your spine. It's as if his presence has etched itself into every corner of your mind, dominating your thoughts and leaving little room for anything else.

You try to push the memories aside, to focus on the task at hand, but it's no use. His image, his touch, his presence, his lips—it all feels so real. To make matters worse, Eric and Nayoung keep probing and probing. 

“Y/N!!!!!” Nayoung interrupts your thoughts. “Are you ready to tell us what happened last night?” she asks with a mischievous wink, raising her eyebrows suggestively, and you immediately understand the implication. You discretely shush her, promising to tell her later, not wanting to draw attention, but nothing ever slips past Eric’s sharp eyes.

As you’re grappling with the weight of your previous conversation, Sunwoo walks in, offering what you hope might be a timely distraction.

The moment he enters, you shoot him an accusatory glare. “You left me and Eric stranded yesterday! We had to find two people willing to perform with us last minute,” you scold, your frustration evident in your tone.

Sunwoo shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I was balls deep inside of Ryujin,” he says casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You turn to him, tutting and shaking your head in disbelief. But deep down, you’re not truly surprised. “Really? Again?” you sigh, knowing all too well the consequences of Sunwoo’s actions.

Ryujin, the lead vocalist and keyboard player in your band, was now the latest victim of Sunwoo’s need of fucking the lead vocalists. It has become a recurring theme in your band’s history. Sunwoo's habit of sleeping with the lead vocalists inevitably leads to their departure from the band, as they realize he's only interested in a fling without any emotional attachment.

There had been four lead vocalists before Ryujin who had left for the same reason, and now she was the fifth. It was a cycle that seemed impossible to break, it was annoying but it was pretty funny. 

“Pay up,” Eric demands, holding out the money jar to Sunwoo. With a roll of his eyes, Sunwoo begrudgingly adds a £5 note to the jar, another contribution to Eric’s growing collection of Sunwoo’s indiscretions.

Sunwoo lets out a deep sigh, his head tilting back against the cool wall with a suggestive noise that’s entirely inappropriate for 8 AM on a Monday morning. He’s always horny, he was missing Ryujin, missing her pussy. 

The brief distraction provided by Sunwoo’s antics quickly fades as Eric, always persistent, picks up the previous line of questioning. He laughs loudly, turning to face you with an expression that feels a bit too much like an interrogation. You brace yourself, knowing exactly where he’s heading with this.

Eric lets out a loud laugh, turning to you like it was an an interrogation, letting you know he wouldn’t drop it you instantly know what he’s going to say. “Where did you run off to after the gig?” he questions, but before you can respond, he answers for you. “I did see a certain Park Sunghoon checking you out.”

Silence fills the room, and then Nayoung screams in excitement. “They fucked!!! They had sex!!! Look, it’s all over Y/N’s face, she’s practically basking in the afterglow of Park Sunghoon’s massive cock.”

The room erupts into laughter, and you can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment as everyone turns their attention to you, leaving you wishing for the floor to swallow you whole.

You groan and sit there silently, wearing a defeated expression as Eric and Nayoung exchange comments and jokes, teasing you mercilessly. Sunwoo, however, remains silent, his expression unreadable as always, leaving you feeling perplexed by his demeanour.

He turns to face you subtly, and all he says is, “Really?” before breaking into a smirk.

You shoot Sunwoo a deadpan look. “You’re not allowed to judge me. You keep fucking our lead vocalists out of the group!”

As Sunwoo is about to defend himself, Eric’s playful smirk and words cut him off. “Hey, missed a spot?” he quips, at first you narrow your eyes in confusion but then you gulp when you realise he’s talking about the concealer on your neck. A suggestive grin plays on his lips. “Need some help covering up all those hickeys Sunghoon left all over your neck? I’m sure Nayoung has some concealer in her bag.” 

You shoot him a warning look, shushing him with a nervous glance around the room. “Keep it down, Eric,” you hiss, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “People could be listening.”

Nayoung, always one to push boundaries, takes it a step further. “Hey, do you need to order a new bed frame?” she asks innocently, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I’m sure yours has broken after Sunghoon fucked you in it all night long.” 

Eric's teasing hits a nerve, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. "Seriously though, I heard that you were moaning like a bitch in heat," he says with a sly grin, his words laced with mischief.

You roll your eyes, trying to brush off his remarks. "You weren't even there," you retort, hoping to shut down the conversation before it escalates any further.

But Eric wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, did you want me to be there? To watch?" he asks, his tone playful yet suggestive. "I didn't have you down as a kinky bitch, Y/N," he adds with a smirk, clearly enjoying getting under your skin.

You huff in frustration. "Oh? You don't want me to watch but to join in? I'm down! And so is Sunghoon, I heard he lost his virginity to not one girl but two girls... at the same time," Eric continues, his grin widening at the shocked expression on your face.

“That’s not true, he lost it to Arin. But he’s been in plenty of threesomes and orgies too,” Nayoung drops casually, her knowledge of everyone’s secrets almost uncanny. She even knew about your first time, despite your best efforts to keep it private.

“Arin?” you respond, taken aback. “Isn’t she the one from our classes with that angelic voice?” 

“Yeah she studied music and she’s also a bitch,” Nayoung doesn’t hold back.

You huff. “Really? She looks quite sweet.” 

“She’s got talent, sure, but she’s like a snake. All sweet to your face then she strikes when you’re not looking,” she continues with a grimace.

“You’re just pissed because after you fucked Sunghoon, he ghosted you,” Sunwoo chimes in, unable to resist teasing her.

“Why did he ghost you?” you ask, intrigued by the drama unfolding.

“Because he went back to fucking Arin,” Nayoung says, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

You scratch your neck, ignoring this sinking feeling. “Did they ever actually date?”

Nayoung shrugs. “I don’t think they dated, just fucked. But she’s been the one constant in his bed. Seems like they’re casual fuck buddies, on and off whenever it suits them.”

Sunwoo’s expression catches you off guard, his eyebrows arching in genuine confusion. “Y/N? Are you jealous?” he probes, clearly trying to understand your reaction.

Quick to dispel any misconceptions, you respond firmly, making sure there’s no room for doubt. “No! We only had sex, nothing else. There’s nothing to be jealous over,” you assert, hoping to shut down any further speculation about your feelings towards the situation.

However you can’t supress the swirls of discomfort and confusion inside you, unsettling you more than you'd like to admit. Arin’s history with Sunghoon, something intense and vaguely defined, gnaws at your peace, leaving you to wonder about the legitimacy of your feelings. Was it valid for you to even be jealous? 

But as these thoughts churn, the lounge's doors swing open, and a group of engineering students enters, breaking your inward spiral. Sunghoon is among them, still dressed in his work attire—an apron dusted from a practical session, and a tool belt loosely hanging around his hips. The engineering gear marks a stark contrast against the casual styles of your graphic tee and jeans, emphasising the divide between your worlds.

Your eyes instinctively find him as he walks in. He's laughing with his friends, completely at ease, seemingly untouched by the intense sex you had just hours ago. He looks so calm, so put together. It's as if he's able to effortlessly recompose himself, while you're still reeling from the memories and his touch. It’s as if the night you shared was just another ordinary event for him. 

As Sunghoon adjusts his apron, a simple yet deliberate action, your gaze inevitably travels to his hands—those same hands that had so expertly explored the depths of you just hours earlier. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, vividly conjures memories of how those very fingers had traced your curves and navigated your folds in a way that left you breathless. The memory of his touch, precise and bold, sends a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks, your body involuntarily responding to the mere thought of his proximity.

He casually stretches his fingers, the joints clicking softly in the quiet of the lounge. The sound, distinct and resonant, wasn't loud enough to be heard by others, but your focus is entirely on him. To you, the soft click echoes significantly, a subtle reminder of the way those fingers had moved with such deliberate intent, exploring and memorising every contour of your body with a precision that left an indelible mark on your senses.

Your gaze can't help but follow the motion of his hands up to his forearms. His sleeves are pushed up slightly, revealing forearms marked by prominent veins that stand out against his skin, tracing paths of strength and vitality. These are the arms that had held you with a confident, yet gentle touch, their power barely restrained as they explored you. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, each movement of his hands, the visible veins pulsing slightly with each flex, brings back a rush of sensations, the memory of his touch—both precise and bold—sending a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks.

Caught in this reverie, you almost miss the moment he looks up. His eyes meet yours, and for a suspended heartbeat, the world around you blurs into insignificance. His gaze holds a depth that reflects a shared history, mirroring the intensity of your intimate encounter. It's a knowing look, laden with an unspoken promise, silently communicating that he recalls every detail just as vividly as you do. 

Eric’s voice breaks through, calling out, “Hey, Sunghoon!” He motions for him to come over. 

As Sunghoon approaches, the simple tee visible beneath his partly open engineering apron catches your eye again. The initials ‘P.S.’ are neatly embroidered on the pocket, adding a personal touch to his otherwise utilitarian outfit. With each step he takes, it seems as though the room rearranges itself to accommodate the energy he brings. Despite there being an empty seat next to Nayoung, Sunghoon bypasses it, choosing instead the space directly beside you. It's a deliberate choice, requiring him to traverse around the table from where he started, signalling his intent to be as close to you as possible.

As he settles down, his body exudes a warmth you can feel even before he fully sits. The proximity is almost too much to handle, his scent—a rich blend of brown sugar, cinnamon, and a hint of citrus, underlined by a masculine note of metal and solder from his engineering lab—fills your senses, making your breath hitch. The unique aroma is both comforting and intoxicating, distinctly Sunghoon, and unmistakably alluring. The scent takes you back to mere hours before when you both had fucked. 

His knee brushes against yours as he adjusts in his seat, the simple touch sending a jolt through your body. You catch your breath, your attempt to focus on anything else utterly futile. Sunghoon is here, right next to you, and every fibre of your being is acutely aware of his nearness.

Beside you, Eunji leans closer, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "You okay?" she whispers, noticing the sudden pallor that has overtaken your features. You manage a nod and offer her a shaky smile, trying to mask the turmoil inside.

As Eric yaps on and on, you find his voice a magnetic force. Just focus on Eric, you repeat internally, seeking any lifeline to distract you. But Sunghoon’s presence is a force impossible to ignore. He leans closer, his body shifting just enough so his knee presses gently against yours under the table. 

The subtle contact sends a shiver up your spine as he leans in, his voice a low whisper meant only for your ears, "I didn’t know you were interested in Eric." His words, edged with a teasing undertone, jolt you. The closeness of his mouth to your ear, the warmth of his breath, it all muddles your thoughts

"I… um, he’s fascinating," you reply, your voice a hushed stutter, drowned out almost entirely by the pounding of your heart.

Sunghoon pulls back slightly, his eyes holding yours in a steady, penetrating gaze that seems to delve deeper than the casual jest warrants. He nods, a slow, thoughtful movement, but the intensity doesn't wane. His eyes linger, searching, as if trying to read the unspoken feelings you're struggling so hard to mask.

“Are your legs okay?” Sunghoon asks, his tone serious but with an unmistakable undertone of teasing—a playful provocation he seems unable to resist.

You swallow hard, the sudden dryness in your throat making it difficult to speak. With a slight tremor in your voice, you whisper back, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” His smile is soft yet knowing, as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a breathy whisper. Then, almost as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, his hand finds its way to your thigh. His fingers gently press into your skin, starting a slow, deliberate massage that sends waves of both comfort and electric tension through your body.

His eyes lock with yours, holding the gaze intensely. The world around you seems to blur into the background, all sounds fading away except for the intimate space he’s created. As his hand moves subtly, the connection deepens, communicated through that steady, penetrating eye contact that says more than words ever could.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

You offer a shy and closed-off response, "Nothing much." But the truth is, your mind is racing with thoughts of him-his touch, his scent, the way he made you feel.

"What about you?" you ask, trying to gauge his thoughts.

With a devilish grin, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "I can't stop thinking about the way your pussy clenched around my cock when you came. I also can’t get over how good your ass looked bouncing on my cock.” He whispers, his voice dripping with desire.

As Sunghoon's words swirl around you, suffocating you with their intensity, you gasp for air, feeling the tight grip of panic clenching your chest. Your fingers tighten around the coffee cup, the ceramic surface offering a fleeting sense of stability amidst the whirlwind of sensations. Each breath feels strained, as if the air itself has thickened, making it difficult to draw in the oxygen your body craves. Despite the burning embarrassment prickling at your skin, you cling to the mundane act of sipping your drink, a feeble attempt to anchor yourself. 

Sunwoo speaks up from beside you, thankfully shifting the atmosphere with a different topic. "Guys... we need to host auditions for a new lead singer," he announces, clicking off his phone before flicking his eyes between you and Eric, signalling the urgency of the situation.

Nayoung can't help but burst into laughter at Sunwoo's statement. "He's fucked Ryujin so hard she found her way out of the band," she jokes, her comment cutting through the seriousness with her typical irreverence. Her laughter echoes around the group, lightening the mood and drawing a collective chuckle that momentarily dispels the heaviness in your heart. 

You’re all in the campus’ performance hall, Spotlights illuminate the stage, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors and plush red curtains. You, Sunwoo, and Eric are perched in the judges’ area, positioned strategically to catch every nuance of the performances.

Suddenly, Nayoung rushes into the room with a tray of four steaming coffees, her hurried steps echoing against the polished floor. “I’m sorry I’m late! I’m here now, let’s start!” She shouts as a strand of hair escapes from her bun, framing her delicate features in a soft halo of morning light. Her beauty is striking, even in the early hours of the day. There's an effortless elegance to her appearance, from the way her eyes sparkle with warmth to the curve of her lips as she smiles apologetically. 

Nayoung wasn’t a member of the band, and she never had been nor probably ever would be, but she relished the opportunity to judge people, which explained why she always ended up as a judge alongside you, Sunwoo, and Eric.

“Guys, the auditions are starting,” Eric says.

The first person walks in, accompanied by two others. “I thought we were auditioning for a female lead vocalist?” you mumble, confused. But Eric just claps his hands together, excited for what’s to come.

“We’re the Foreign Swaggers,” one of the guys introduces the group name.

“Guys, you know we’re looking for one female lead vocalist, and you guys—” You’re interrupted by Mark Lee, known for being one of the best students in the music department. You know him, you’ve seen him at some parties, he’s friends with Donghyuc who was friends with Sunwoo. Mark was notorious for his talent and popularity among the girls.

“Alright, guys, what’s up,” Mark starts, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun adds, trying to sound confident.

“What’s up,” Johnny chimes in, his tone more relaxed.

“We’re the, uh— we’re the, uh— Foreign Swaggers,” Mark stutters, trying to maintain composure.

“So, yeah, uh— Johnny’s gonna rap,” Johnny declares.

“I lived in America for four years! That’s why I’m here, man!” Jaehyun boasts.

The audition starts with a beatbox, followed by some mediocre rapping at best. They’re awkward, but there’s a certain charisma about them.

However, Sunwoo cuts them off as soon as their performance ends, not even bothering to judge them. “That’s it, you can go now.” he says hastily, signalling for them to leave.

You were about eight people in, and no one had impressed you yet. No one seemed to fit the image of your band, and you were starting to lose hope. Then, Hwang Yeji walked in, and your eyes lit up, though not as much as Eric and Sunwoo’s. You side-eye them and roll your own eyes, especially as you catch a glimpse of something very familiar in Sunwoo’s eyes—the fire and hunger.

Yeji introduces herself sweetly, with the most beautiful smile and laugh. You hope she can sing well, as visually she matches the image of your band very well. You let out a sigh of relief when she does sing, and she’s really good. Her voice is perfect, and you can already see her in the band.

“I’ve found the voice of an angel. I’ve fallen in love,” Sunwoo breathes heavily, his typical behaviour not surprising you in the least.

“You should view the auditions objectively. You shouldn’t let personal feelings get in the way of your judging,” you say, smirking.

“Shut up,” he replies hastily, unable to deny the truth in your words.

You’re taken aback by the look of genuine admiration in Sunwoo’s eyes. Could it be that he’s actually serious about his feelings for once? You’ve known Sunwoo long enough to recognize when he’s being sincere, and this time, it feels real.

After Yeji finishes her audition, a serene silence envelops the room, filled with admiration and appreciation for her talent. Sunwoo seems ready to offer her the role of lead vocalist on the spot, but you intervene before he can speak.

“Wait,” you interject, ignoring Sunwoo’s eagerness and turning to Yeji with a warm smile. “There’s one more person who wants to audition. Let’s hear her out before making a decision.”

You can feel Sunwoo’s frustration, but you know it’s important to give everyone a fair chance, even if Yeji seems like the perfect fit. 

Your heart sinks when you see who walks in

—it's Arin. An unsettling feeling washes over you, stirring up uncertainty that you try to push away, but it lingers like a stubborn shadow. She's so radiant and beautiful, exuding an energy and light that's hard to ignore. You understand why she's so popular; she's captivating in every way.

Of course, you know who she is—someone in the

year above, who seems to have a magnetic pull on everyone around her. All the guys are crazy for her, drawn to her like she's the centre of gravity in the room. And it's not just the guys; even Sunwoo and Eric seem infatuated by her presence, their eyes lingering on her like she's the only thing in the room.

She's sweet, with an infectious laugh and a presence that commands attention. She's the girl every guy wants to fuck and every girl wants to be. 

And apparently, she has a beautiful singing voice too?

She's good. Really good. Her voice is like an angel's, filling the room with a captivating melody that earns her instant appreciation from everyone present. 

You scoff and shoot a sideways glance at Sunwoo, muttering, "She's so bad."

He just smirks and shakes his head, clearly disagreeing with you. "She's definitely not," Eric chimes in, his voice laced with a dreamy quality that seems to be a common affliction among the guys in the room. Arin has this effect on every single one of them.

Nayoung smirks knowingly and teases, "I thought you didn't care about Sunghoon fucking her?"

You huff in response, denying any emotional investment in the matter. But no matter how much you try to defend yourself, it's clear that they all think your judgement is clouded by the rumour about Sunghoon and Arin.

Sunwoo remarks, "You should view the auditions objectively... You shouldn't let personal feelings get in the way of your judgement," he smirks, a reference to your previous words. 

As the crisp autumn evening settled over the campus, the university art gallery was abuzz with activity, its warmly lit interior casting a welcoming glow through the expansive glass doors. Tonight, it hosted the annual student art exhibition, a highlight for the arts department and an event that drew a crowd of eager students, local art enthusiasts, and faculty alike.

You, dressed in a favourite band tee that had seen better days and comfortable, well-worn jeans, felt a surge of excitement as you stepped into the gallery with Nayoung at your side. Your casual outfit, coupled with a pair of sturdy sneakers, was perfect for an evening spent on your feet, moving from one display to another.

As you adjusted the strap of your camera bag and pulled out your camera, the bustling art gallery buzzed around you. “Smileee,” you called out to Nayoung, who obliged with a fake grin and a thumbs-up. You rolled your eyes, she did not want to be here. She looked hot though, styled in her black mini dress and brown leather jacket 

As you entered the gallery, the air was filled with the murmurs of impressed spectators and the soft, jazzy undertones of background music that added a sophisticated touch to the evening. The exhibition space was vibrant and packed, walls adorned with an array of artworks that ranged from abstract paintings to complex sculptures and daring installations.

Your eyes widened with genuine appreciation as you took in the scene. The exhibition was a canvas of creativity, each piece telling its own vivid story. Driven by your innate love for art, you began to ramble enthusiastically about the techniques and hidden meanings behind various artworks, pointing out the bold strokes and intricate details that might escape the untrained eye.

Nayoung, trailing slightly behind, matched your pace but not your enthusiasm. Her responses were polite, nodding along and offering the occasional “that’s really cool” or “wow,” though it was clear that her interest lay more in the social than the artistic aspects of the event. Despite this, she was there for you, you had dragged her here. 

As you delved deeper into the nuances of a particularly captivating installation—a mixed media piece that utilised recycled materials to comment on consumer culture—Nayoung’s attention occasionally drifted. She was more absorbed in scanning the crowd, perhaps looking for familiar faces or simply taking in the overall ambiance.

You couldn’t help but launch into detailed explanations as you moved from one artwork to another, your enthusiasm bubbling over. “See the way the light is captured here?” you pointed out, gesturing toward a series of dramatic black-and-white photographs that explored the interplay of shadow and light. “It’s all about the angle and timing, which is something we discuss a lot in my music composition classes, except we’re capturing sound, not light.”

Nayoung trailed beside you, her interest clearly elsewhere. With a drink already in hand, thanks to the small flask she'd pulled from the pocket of her leather jacket, she took occasional sips, her other hand frequently fishing her phone out to check messages or scroll through her feed.

"Do you ever get tired of talking about brush strokes?" Nayoung teased, an exasperated but playful tone in her voice as she watched you analyze yet another painting. Her question hung in the air, punctuated by her taking another discreet sip from her flask.

Throughout the evening, Nayoung seemed more intent on steering the conversation away from art and towards more personal topics. "So, let's talk about Sunghoon," she says with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You sigh inwardly, already anticipating where this conversation is headed. "No," you reply bluntly, hoping to steer the discussion away from your private life.

But Nayoung is undeterred. "Yes!" she insists, her tone teasing.

"So, in what position did he fuck you? How big is his cock?" she asks with a playful smirk, taking a sip of her drink.

You can't help but laugh at her audacity. "Nayoung, you've literally had sex with him. You know how big his cock is," you retort, rolling your eyes.

She tuts mockingly. "Who said I was looking?"

You shoot her a skeptical look. "If I tell you, will you finally leave me alone?" you challenge.

Nayoung nods eagerly, but you can tell she's not entirely sincere in her promise.

"We did it in missionary," you lie smoothly, not wanting to divulge too much. "And his cock? It's about two inches bigger than Eric's," you add truthfully.

Nayoung nearly chokes on her drink, her eyes widening in surprise. "It's that big?" she exclaims, clearly impressed.

You lean in closer, whispering, "You know how big it is! You fucked him too!"

Despite her promise to drop the subject, Nayoung continues to pester you, her questions becoming more probing with each passing moment.

"How was it? Did you feel anything when having sex with him? Anything deeper?" she inquires, her gaze fixated on you with an intensity that makes you uncomfortable.

You shake your head firmly, maintaining your composure. "Absolutely nothing," you lie smoothly, not yet ready to divulge the details of your encounter with Sunghoon-especially not the parts that still make your heart race just thinking about them.

While you were mid-sentence, breaking down the complexity of an abstract painting that caught your artistic eye, a movement at the entrance abruptly halted your train of thought. Sunghoon strolled in, he was impossible to miss, He had shifted the room's focus. He moved with an unassuming confidence that drew looks from every corner, a quiet testament to his presence. You watched, just for a moment, as all eyes flickered toward him. 

He wore a plain white tee that seemed to accentuate his toned figure, paired with jeans that fit just right. His hair, effortlessly swept back, gave him a look that was both polished and carefree. Jake, his best friend, was by his side, the light catching his blonde hair, a relaxed figure in his hoodie. But it was Sunghoon who had stolen the moment, his mere presence causing your heart to skip a beat and your words to stumble into silence.

Reacting instinctively, you reached out and clasped Nayoung’s arm, diverting her mid-chuckle into a quick detour. “Let’s check out the sculptures,” you said hastily, feeling the weight of Sunghoon’s unintended intrusion tighten around your chest as you steered both yourself and Nayoung toward a distant corner of the gallery.

Concealed behind the angular shadows of a towering metal sculpture, you and Nayoung stood secluded from the gallery’s hum. Its cool, hard surface offered a strange comfort, a silent ally amidst the turmoil within you. Nayoung’s face, usually so composed, now mirrored concern. “Why are you hiding from him? Haven’t you talked to Sunghoon since that night?” Her voice, though soft, seemed to fill the entire space around you.

Leaning against the sculpture’s chill offered a small reprieve, its coldness a stark counter to the warmth flushing your skin. Words felt like distant things, hard to grasp, harder to voice. You responded not with words but with a faint shake of your head, the motion carrying the weight of unspoken confessions.

“Y/N, this is messy,” Nayoung said, her voice layered with a mix of reprimand and concern.

“He messages me,” you found your voice, albeit shaky, “tries to talk to me, to come up to me on campus.” The words felt heavy, laden with a confusion that seemed to cloud your thoughts.

Nayoung’s smile flickered with a glimmer of hope. “That’s good, right? It means he’s interested in you,” she reasoned, her smile fading into a frown as she caught the turmoil twisting your features.

You sucked in a breath, feeling trapped in the sculpture’s cast shadow, a dim refuge from the gallery’s soft lights. “I don’t know how to face him,” you admitted, your whisper barely rising above the hush of distant conversations. “That night was overwhelming, and now… now I’m just lost.”

“Why are you so scared if that night meant nothing to you?” Nayoung probed gently, her fingers interlacing with yours in a solid, warm grip.

You covered your face with your free hand, rubbing at your eyes as if you could wipe away the uncertainty. “I don’t know what it meant. I’m confused. It’s all just so intense, so much for my heart… I’ve never felt this way, and it’s terrifying.” The words tumbled out, a chaotic mix of fear and longing. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him.”

“I’m scared, Nayoung. I’m scared of what I’m feeling, of what all this might mean.” Your words hung suspended, resonating with the same enduring presence as the art around you. 

Nayoung didn’t release your hand; instead, she drew you closer, a pillar of support in the echoing vastness of the gallery. “It’s okay to be scared,” she assured you. “But hiding here won’t answer any of your questions. You can’t let fear hold you back.” Her encouragement was soft but firm, a gentle push toward the clarity you so desperately needed.

You nod. As you step backward, ready to leave the comfort of the sculpture’s shadow, your movement is abruptly halted by a solid, unexpected barrier. A quick gasp escapes your lips as you spin around, words of apology already forming, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Your voice trails off when you see it’s Sunghoon you’ve bumped into. His presence, so close and unexpected, sends a jolt through you that’s part shock, part something more electric. For a split second, you’re frozen.

He stands mere inches away, his expression initially mirroring the tired detachment you’ve seen in Nayoung’s eyes tonight, suggesting he’d rather be anywhere but here. But the moment his gaze meets yours, something shifts. There’s a flicker of something more intense, more profound.

Your eyes lock with his for a fleeting second, and in that brief exchange, his look deepens, becoming electric and unreadable. The air around you thickens as if charged by this sudden connection, leaving your heart pounding not just with nervousness but with a bewildering rush of emotions that you can’t quite decipher. His presence envelops you, intense and palpable, drawing you into a moment you both seem reluctant to break, yet overwhelmed to sustain.

Sunghoon, dressed casually but looking every bit the effortless figure who haunts your quieter moments, just smiles slightly. His voice, when he speaks, is soft and carries an undertone of warmth that only adds to your turmoil. “It’s a beautiful sculpture, isn’t it?” he comments, his eyes lingering on yours, trying to capture your gaze.

You notice the slight upturn of his lips—a knowing, almost teasing smirk that suggests he might understand more than he lets on. But you can’t hold his gaze, your eyes darting away after a fleeting, charged moment of eye contact that sends an array of sensations coursing through you. It’s too much, too intense—every nerve ending seems to scream, your skin tingling from the nearness of him.

With a rushed, barely audible excuse, you stutter, “Sorry, gotta get to the lecture!!!” Your hand shoots out, finding Nayoung’s, and without waiting for a response, you pull her away from Sunghoon and the sculpture, eager to escape into the crowd. Nayoung follows without protest, casting an amused glance back at Sunghoon, who stands there watching you leave, his expression unreadable.

As you navigate through the throng of people, your pulse racing, you don’t dare look back. The brief interaction leaves you with a flood of emotions you’re not ready to dissect—not here, not now. Nayoung remains silent beside you, her presence a comforting constant as you put distance between yourself and Sunghoon. Your escape feels both like a victory and a defeat, the complex emotions swirling inside you mirroring the intricate artworks you leave behind.

Nayoung’s laughter echoed in the otherwise quieting atmosphere of the lecture hall as you both settled into the back left corner. “Would you stop?” you whispered harshly, crossing your arms and sinking lower into your seat, though a secret smile tugged at your lips for securing such a strategically secluded spot.

“I’m just happy we got the best seats in the house,” you added with a pout, pretending to sulk yet relieved by the thought that Sunghoon wouldn’t easily spot you here.

The hall gradually filled, the buzz of conversation growing as students gathered. Your heart skipped a beat when Sunghoon walked in, accompanied by Jake. They took seats a few rows ahead, seemingly unaware of your presence. You let out a silent breath, hoping to remain unnoticed.

Professor Doyoung, widely recognized as the best arts professor at the university, began the lecture with his usual charismatic flair. Today’s session was special—a celebration of student achievements, spotlighting various art pieces and sculptures. The room dimmed slightly as the projector lit up with images of student artwork.

Your pulse quickened when a photo of your own creation appeared on the screen. The room filled with murmurs of admiration, but your own heart pounded for an entirely different reason. “And here we have an outstanding piece by one of our brightest students,” Professor Doyoung announced, his voice filling the lecture hall with enthusiastic approval. “This innovative work was created by none other than Y/N, whose artistic vision and execution have consistently impressed us.”

As he showered you with praise, detailing the depth and creativity behind your work, a sense of pride mixed with intense embarrassment washed over you. It was meant to be an anonymous exhibition, yet here was Professor Doyoung, breaking protocol because he believed certain students deserved recognition for their efforts.

While you appreciated the acknowledgment, your cheeks burned hotter when Professor Doyoung, spotting you trying to sink further into your seat, pointed you out to the entire auditorium. “Let’s give a round of applause to Y/N, sitting right at the back there, for such a brilliant contribution!”

The audience’s applause thundered in your ears, but it was the sound of bodies shifting and heads turning that heightened your anxiety. Sunghoon turned around, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling on you. When your gazes locked, a silent jolt of electricity shot through you. His expression transformed from casual interest to a more intense, unreadable look, tinged with a hint of a smile that seemed both knowing and curious.

The world around you seemed to blur into the background as the two of you maintained eye contact. The warmth of his smile, despite the distance, sent waves of nerves dancing up your spine, mixing with a thrill that you couldn’t quite suppress. You felt exposed yet oddly seen, the kind of visibility that made your stomach twist yet somehow left you wanting more.

You averted your gaze first, looking down at your lap as your face heated up. Beside you, Nayoung nudged you gently, a silent gesture of support—or perhaps encouragement to acknowledge the connection you obviously had with Sunghoon, one that seemed to extend beyond mere academic coincidences.

The lecture continued, but your mind was elsewhere, caught up in the whirlwind of emotions triggered by that brief yet impactful exchange of looks with Sunghoon. Your heart still raced, not just from the public praise but because of him. 

After the lecture, you spot Jake lingering near the front of the room. Despite sharing a few classes, your interactions had always been casual—pleasant exchanges about coursework and occasional class discussions. Jake was known for his calm demeanor, a stark contrast to Sunghoon’s more dynamic presence. Now, with your recent involvement with Sunghoon weighing on your mind, you find yourself curious about their friendship. They seemed like opposites yet clearly got along so well, everyone knew they were best friends, brothers even. Perhaps it was true what they said about opposites attracting.

As you’re methodically packing up your things, Jake approaches with a gentle ease that diminishes the room’s formality. His presence feels like a quiet reassurance in the noisy aftermath of the lecture.

“He went ahead, you don’t need to worry,” Jake says softly, noticing the tightness in your expression. It catches you off-guard how observant he is, how he seems to catch even the subtlest shifts in your mood.

You gulp, a bit flustered by his insight. “I—”

“I think he’s really intrigued by you, you know,” Jake continues, his voice warm and encouraging. “I don’t know why, but he seems genuinely interested in getting to know you better. You always seem to run the other way, though.” His smile is gentle, nudging you towards reconsideration without pushing too hard. “Maybe you should give him a chance; Sunghoon’s actually a decent guy.”

“I’m not intentionally trying to avoid him,” you confess, the words tumbling out in a rush. “He just… makes me nervous.”

Jake’s chuckle is soft, a sound that spreads calm. He reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder for a fleeting moment, grounding you. “He makes everyone nervous at first. You get used to it,” he reassures, his touch light but affirming. “Who knows, you might even start to like it. I know I like it.” You can’t help but giggle when he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

“I know it might seem like he’s intense, and yeah, he’s serious when it comes to things and people he cares about. But he’s also really chill once you get to know him better. He’s the kind of person you’d want in your corner,” he explains, his tone earnest.

“He doesn’t just give his attention and effort to anyone,” Jake continues, his eyes locking with yours to emphasise his point. “So don’t take it for granted or push him away. You might lose his interest forever, and trust me, you’d miss it. He’s someone you really want in your life. He's a really good guy..”

His comforting grin lingers as he steps back, giving you space to process his words. With a friendly nod, Jake walks away, leaving a trail of thoughtfulness behind him. His advice resonates with you, stirring a mix of anticipation and resolve. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to confront your nerves and see where things with Sunghoon could lead.

The crisp morning air nips at your skin as you traverse the campus pathway, lost in the world curated by your playlist. With every sip of your coffee, you feel the warmth spread through you, contrasting with the coolness of the day. Your steps are unhurried, a rare moment of solitude embraced amidst the hustle of your life.

Suddenly, a gentle tap on your shoulder pulls you from your reverie. You pull out one earbud, turning to see Sunghoon standing behind you. Despite the flutter in your stomach, you remember Jake’s words: Don’t push him away. Taking a deep breath, you muster a smile, not just any smile, but one that reaches your eyes, showing Sunghoon you’re here in this moment with him.

“Hey,” Sunghoon greets, his voice smooth, drawing a line of warmth up your spine despite the autumn chill.

You manage a nod, trying to appear composed. “Hi, Sunghoon,” you reply, your voice steadier than you feel. His gaze is intense, and you find yourself unable to meet his eyes directly, focusing instead slightly over his shoulder.

As you walk together, Sunghoon’s voice breaks through the crisp air. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for the last month now…” 

Every attempt he made to bridge the gap between you was met with your nervous laughter or hasty excuses. His presence—so wanted yet so overwhelming—left you fumbling, your words tripping over your rapid heartbeat. But today you would handle things differently. 

Or so you wished.

His voice seemed to blend into the background, making it difficult to focus. “Are you free this weekend?” he asked, a simple question that felt loaded with possibilities. Is he asking you out? Or is this just casual?

The campus around you felt unusually constricted as pairs of eyes turned to follow your interaction, their stares prickling uncomfortably on your skin. The judgmental looks from passing students, especially from girls who eyed you with undisguised envy or disdain, made it challenging to concentrate on Sunghoon’s words. 

Sunghoon closes the distance between you with a measured step, his presence enveloping you in a subtle but undeniable warmth. His fingers tuck a stray hair behind your ear, the contact tender yet anchoring, pulling you back to the moment. His eyes lock onto yours, his voice a soothing whisper, “Just ignore them. Just look at me.”

Your breath catches, the simple command resonating deeply as you murmur, “But they’re all looking at me. At us,” your voice trembles in the air.

He smiles softly, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as he holds your face with a careful, affectionate grip. “And I want you to look at me,” he insists, his gaze steady and piercing, radiating a calm confidence that makes your heart race yet somehow reassures you.

As Sunghoon's hands gently cradle your face, his thumbs softly caressing your skin, you find yourself nodding as he tells you to focus on him.. The steady throb of your heart begins to calm, settling into a rhythm that feels less frantic, more in tune with the moment. Your eyes lock with his, and as you let yourself truly look at him, all fears begin to melt away. You lean slightly into the warmth of his touch, the tension in your body easing as you allow yourself to be anchored by his presence. 

“Are you coming to Sunwoo’s party tonight?” he asks casually, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

You give a small nod. “Maybe.”

“I hope you’re there,” he says, his tone sincere. “It gives me a reason to go.” He’s always so honest. 

“Sunwoo will be dealing, are you sure that’s not reason enough?” 

He smirks. “Close second.” 

“It’s too much,” Yeji giggles shyly, running her hands over the dress she was going to wear tonight, in awe of the beautiful decorations and sparkles.

Her eyes moved to the brand new microphone Sunwoo had gifted her to congratulate her for winning the auditions and becoming the newest member of the band. “It's definitely too much, I didn't anticipate or expect any of this.”

You shake your head. “It’s not too much, you deserve it all.”

“Plus the dress is stunning, you’ll look beautiful,” you add. The dress was quite out there, adorned with sparkles and glitters. Yeji was definitely going to stand out and be the star of the show. “How did you get a dress as beautiful as that?” you ask.

“I don’t know… it just turned up to my door with a note telling me to wear it!” she responds.

“Sunwoo,” you respond immediately.

You both laugh. You know why he’s throwing this party randomly, with no warning or planning. It’s a surprise party for her, celebrating her joining the band. Sunwoo is welcoming her.

“I bet he buys dresses for all his girls,” she rolls her eyes as she slips into the dress.

“No, he doesn’t,” you say matter-of-factly, shaking your head in astonishment. Yeji was different for him. You could already feel that.

Applying the prettiest shade of pink to her cheeks, you couldn’t help but admire how blush looked so beautiful on Yeji. It complemented her complexion perfectly, adding a touch of radiance to her already glowing skin. As she examined herself in the mirror, a smile lit up her face, and you knew she was going to steal the show tonight.

“Aren’t you going?” she questioned, her eyes glancing over your pyjamas and messy bun.

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of exhaustion and a slight headache creeping in. “I don’t feel well,” you admitted, hoping she’d understand.

“No, you have to come. I’ll be nervous all there by myself,” she pleaded, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

Despite your reluctance, you couldn’t resist her puppy-dog eyes and the genuine warmth in her voice. Yeji had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel special, and you didn’t want to disappoint her.

“You won’t be by yourself,” you assured her with a smile, knowing Sunwoo and Eric would be there to keep her company.

Yeji was a new student, still adjusting to the rhythm of college life, but she had quickly become a familiar presence. Her easygoing nature and infectious enthusiasm had won over the hearts of many, including yours.

But she’s so sweet, and you couldn’t bear to see her disappointed.

“I’ll come,” you relented, knowing that her smile was worth it.

Her eyes lit up with excitement, and she practically bounced off the bed. “We need to get you ready,” she declared, already bustling around the room, gathering clothes and makeup.

As Yeji helps you pick out what to wear, her eyes light up when she spots a particular outfit. “This,” she exclaims, her gaze hungry as she holds up a daringly bold ensemble.

You feel your cheeks flush crimson at the sight of the revealing outfit. “That’s way too much,” you protest, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and excitement at her suggestion.

“But you’ll look so sexy though!” she insists, her excitement infectious as she imagines you rocking the outfit.

Despite your reservations, you can’t deny the thrill of the idea. “I don’t want to draw too much attention…” you murmur, but Yeji is already convincing you otherwise.

In the end, you settle on the cherry blossom pink mini dress she picked out, the soft hue flattering your complexion perfectly. As you change into the outfit, you can’t help but feel a surge of confidence wash over you. You opted for minimal makeup, you wanted to enhance your natural features, and soon you’re both admiring the stunning result in the mirror.

“Your wardrobe is so daring,” Yeji remarks, her eyes scanning through your clothes with awe.

As you step into Sunwoo’s house, a wave of nervousness washes over you despite how familiar you are to this house. It’s practically your second home, yet tonight feels different somehow.

A rush of color and a buzz of activity immediately greet you. You walk through the entryway bathed in vibrant lighting that casts dynamic shadows across the textured, dark-stained wooden walls. The decorations hanging there are bold and modern, each piece making a statement with its bright colours and daring strokes.

Beneath your feet, dark hardwood floors stretch out, absorbing the light and noise, giving the house a grounded, almost intimate feel. In the living area, a group of people lounge on oversized furniture, upholstered in deep, rich tones, chatting over glasses of chilled drinks pulled from stacked ice coolers that blend seamlessly into the decor.

You walk to the backyard where the atmosphere shifts from subdued luxury to a lively party scene. The garden is lit by strategically placed neon lights that highlight the lush greenery with an almost surreal glow. Music pulses in the background, the bassline vibrating softly underfoot.

It was a chaotic blur of vibrant colours, pulsating music, and energetic bodies moving to the rhythm. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol and the haze of cigarette smoke, mingling with the scent of drugs and anticipation.

The sight of so many people, each lost in their own world of intoxication and euphoria, is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Everywhere you look, there are couples making out, friends sharing laughter and secrets, and strangers forging connections in the dimly lit corners of the room.

Amidst the chaos, you catch sight of Sunwoo, his expression dazed and his movements sluggish as he navigates through the crowd. He spots you and stumbles over, enveloping you in a drunken hug. “You actually came!” he slurs, planting a sloppy kiss on your forehead before his attention is quickly diverted to Yeji, already taking her hand and leading her somewhere. 

As you weave through the lively crowd, the familiar laughter of Nayoung and Eunji draws you in like a beacon. You break into a wide smile, the tension melting away as soon as you see them, both teetering slightly, drinks in hand, their laughter filling the air.

“Heyyyy!” you shout over the music as you approach, arms open wide. They spot you and immediately stumble forward, nearly spilling their drinks in their excitement.

Eunji, with a tipsy grin, throws her arms around you, pulling you into a wobbly hug. “Oh my god, look at you, gorgeous!” she squeals, squeezing you tight. Nayoung joins in, her arms encircling both of you, her laughter contagious.

“We’ve been waiting for you!” Nayoung exclaims, her words slurring just a bit. She steps back to give you a once-over, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Look at you!!!” She whistles, holding your hand above and twirling you around. 

As Jake’s advice echoes in your mind, you find yourself fully immersed in the party atmosphere. Surrounded by the pulsing lights and thumping bass, you allow yourself to embrace the carefree spirit of the night. You’re a college student—young, pretty, and ready to let loose. If everyone else can dive into the highs of a college party, why shouldn’t you?

One step at a time. You want to take things slow tonight, hoping to eventually join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, dancing and laughing without a care. But for now, you need a few more drinks to help shake off your inhibitions. Sitting beside Eric, who's thankfully keeping you company, you feel a bit more anchored. He hands you a cup filled with your favourite drink—your first for the evening and hopefully the first of many.

"Y/N, I might be going crazy but everyone seems to be staring at you," he whispers, close enough for only you to hear. You hum in response, your eyes scanning the room. He's right. Unlike other nights where you blended into the background, tonight it feels like you're under a spotlight. Is it because of your earlier encounter with Sunghoon on campus? That thought unsettles you as you realise people had stared then, and they’re obviously staring now.

Not quite drunk enough to completely let go of your inhibitions, you feel the weight of the stares pushing you to the edge. "Let's dance!!!" you suddenly exclaim, seizing Eric's arm and pulling him towards the dance floor where Nayoung and Eunji are already lost in the rhythm. Eric follows, his surprise evident but quickly morphing into enthusiasm as you both join the lively crowd. 

You join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, their bodies moving freely to the rhythm of the music. Joining them, the three of you fall into sync, bodies swaying and twirling in a shared rhythm. The energy is infectious, and soon Eric joins in, the four of you forming a tight circle.

Laughter and song blend as you dance, the music enveloping you completely. There’s a moment of pure joy as you all grind against each other, singing at the top of your lungs, the world outside fading away. Tonight, it’s just you, your friends, and the music—nothing else matters.​

The relentless pace of the party begins to wear on you, and you wonder how your fellow students manage this every weekend. As your head starts to spin and a wave of dizziness washes over you, you realize you need a break. Muttering a quick excuse, you make your way to the quieter snacks section to catch your breath and steady yourself.

You smile when you see one of your favourite snacks, content to just munch on it, knowing Sunwoo got it just for you. Suddenly, he appears and checks on you, prompting a playful eye roll from you when you realise he’s been absent for the entire night. He was the host and was normally present but he was clearly occupied with Yeji. 

You notice lipstick stains scattered across Sunwoo's neck, prompting a raised eyebrow from you. "You already fucked Yeji? Sunwoo, she hasn't even been in the band for a month—"

Sunwoo interrupts, "I haven't fucked her yet. We're just chilling in my room."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Really?"

He smiles, nodding. "Yeah. I want to take it slow. I really like her."

Sunwoo puts his arm around your back, concern evident in his voice as he asks, "Are you okay? You look tired. You can go and rest in one of the spare rooms; if anyone's fucking there, I'll kick them out."

You raise an eyebrow, teasing, "You'll walk in on them having sex?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, but you barely register his response. Your attention is suddenly captured by someone else. 

Sunghoon.

He's here, partying, and he looks hot. Your eyes instantly gravitate towards him, taking in his appearance. Sunghoon is wearing a fitted button down shirt that manages to accentuate his muscles and toned chest, a chain dangling from his neck, adding to his appeal.

You’re engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions, your heart somersaulting within your chest, each beat a drumroll of anticipation. A nervous energy courses through your veins, setting your skin ablaze with a feverish heat, as if every nerve ending is on high alert, tingling with anticipation. Despite your attempts to remain composed, you can’t shake the feeling of butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach, a chaotic dance of excitement and nervousness.

He’s in his element, downing shots with ease, his movements fluid and effortless. Girls press against him, grinding against him, each one vying for his attention. Laughter fills the air and his smile makes your heart twist, his presence is so magnetic and captivating. Despite the chaos around him, he’s the calm in the storm, his confidence unwavering as he basks in the attention of those around him.

The party’s intensity overwhelms you as much as you don’t want to admit it. You can’t help but feel suffocated amidst the pounding music and throngs of people. You need a break. So, you slip away to one of the rooms in Sunwoo’s vast house, seeking solace from the chaos. You were sure no one would find you here, Sunwoo’s house was massive so it was easy to hide away. 

This dimly lit room on the lowest floor is your sanctuary, a hidden refuge from the party’s noise. Sinking onto the plush couch, you find comfort in its soft cushions. Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the world lift from your shoulders.

Surrounded by silence, your thoughts fill the space. Reflecting on the evening, you wish you could shed your self-consciousness, to join the fun without fear of judgement. But anxiety holds you back, trapping you in doubt.

Taking a deep breath, you try to let go. In this quiet room, you find peace, if only for a moment, amidst the chaos outside.

Parties always felt like too much for you. The noise, the crowds, the energy—it all overwhelmed you. You'd stand there awkwardly, like a wallflower, while everyone else seemed to thrive in the chaos. You wished you could just let loose, have fun without worrying so much.

The door creaks open, breaking the silence of the empty room. Startled, you look up to see Sunghoon standing there, his presence filling the space with an unexpected intensity. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as the connection between you sparks to life. You feel a flutter in your chest, an electrifying sensation that makes your breath catch in your throat. Unable to hold his gaze, you quickly look away, feeling a rush of heat flood your cheeks.

As Sunghoon steps into the room, his energy is different from the chaotic atmosphere of the party. It’s composed, calm, yet brimming with an underlying intensity that sends shivers down your spine. There’s something unspoken in the air, a silent understanding that hangs between you, pulling you closer despite the distance.

He takes a seat beside you, and when you steal a glance at him, you find his eyes already locked onto yours. The intensity of his gaze sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you can’t help but feel drawn to him, as if there’s an invisible thread connecting you both.

As his gaze bores into yours, it feels like he’s peeling away the layers of your soul, seeing you for who you truly are. It’s intense, electric, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire deep within. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity, desire, and a hint of something more profound, leaving you breathless and longing for more.

In a soft voice that sends tingles down your spine, he asks, “Why aren’t you enjoying yourself? Why did you come?” His words are laced with concern, genuine and caring, yet there’s an underlying tone of desire that makes your heart race.

You can’t help but laugh nervously, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “I came for my friends, but I already regret it… I don’t know why I can’t let myself have fun, I really don’t know… I tried to let loose but I just can’t.” Your voice trails off, filled with uncertainty and self-doubt.

His response is like a bolt of lightning, unexpected and thrilling. “That’s a shame… The prettiest girl here tonight should be enjoying herself,” he says, his words dripping with charm and confidence. The way he looks at you, coupled with his bold statement, sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

Feeling a mixture of surprise and desire, you meet his gaze head-on, your eyes locking in a silent exchange filled with unspoken longing. “I-I…” you stutter, unable to form coherent words as his proximity overwhelms you. “I… thank you,” you manage to whisper, your cheeks flushing with heat as you avert your gaze, feeling his intense presence enveloping you like a warm embrace.

“But I’m definitely not the prettiest girl here tonight, not even close. Have you seen Yeji? Or Nayoung and Eunji? Or Karina? I even saw you dancing with her, and I don’t blame you if you left with her tonight because she’s breathtaking and—” Your words tumble out in a rush, cheeks flushing crimson as you realise how much you’ve said. Fortunately, he cuts you off with a forward tone, sending your heart racing again. 

“You’re prettier than all of them,” he declares, his words laced with confidence and desire.

“Why aren’t you partying right now? Did you follow me here?” you question, narrowing your eyes at him. His chuckle sends shivers down your spine as he shakes his head. “I was partying, then I saw you and realised you were here. I saw Sunwoo with you and got distracted. I didn’t follow you, I just wanted to find a room that no one would be in, and that’s how I came here…” His words hang in the air, leaving you speechless and breathless.

As he moves closer, you feel your pulse quicken, his presence overwhelming yet comforting. “Why can’t you look me in the eyes?” he asks softly, his fingers gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze. You try to avert your eyes, but his touch guides your focus back to him.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” you finally muster the courage to whisper, the intensity of his gaze leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Like what?” he replies, his tone smug yet enticing, as if he’s enjoying the effect he has on you.

“Like you’ve seen me naked,” the words spill out, unfiltered and honest, hanging between you in the charged air. It feels like a confession, a secret desire laid bare, but instead of recoiling, he leans in closer, a smirk playing on his lips.

Without a word, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a heated passion that sends sparks flying. His lips are warm and demanding against yours, moulding perfectly to fit as if they were made to kiss yours. The taste of him is intoxicating, a heady mix of brown sugar and whiskey that ignites a fire within you. Your hands instinctively find their way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his soft hair as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss.

There's a primal hunger in the way he kisses you, a raw, animalistic need that leaves you breathless and wanting more. His tongue dances with yours in a tantalising rhythm, exploring every crevice of your mouth as if he's trying to imprint himself on you.

Moans escape your lips as the kiss grows more fervent, the passion between you reaching a fever pitch. With a low growl, Sunghoon's hands roam over your body, tracing every curve and contour with deliberate intent. His touch ignites a fire within you, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers trail up and down your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

You can feel the heat between your bodies intensifying, the urgency of desire driving you closer together. As he pulls you onto his lap, you straddle him eagerly, the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, a potent reminder of the passion between you.

With each movement, Sunghoon grinds against you, his hips rocking in perfect synchrony with yours, creating a rhythm that sets your heart racing. The friction between your bodies sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, building the intensity of your desire with every touch. His hands guide your movements, urging you to grind against him with increasing urgency

"Good girl," he whispers against your ear, his voice husky with desire, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. His words fuel the fire burning between you, igniting a primal hunger that demands to be sated. 

You reach for the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning with urgency while still grinding against him, your ass meeting his clothed thighs with every bounce. His hands grip the flesh underneath your dress, and you feel the tension in the air as you both lose yourselves in the moment. With a swift motion, his shirt is off, discarded in the heat of the passion that envelops you both.

As you look into his eyes, you see the same emotions reflected — lust, longing, want and need. You're consumed by the desire to pleasure him, to take him to the heights of ecstasy and beyond. With a primal urge coursing through your veins, you drop to your knees before him. 

As you look up at him, a playful and innocent smile dancing on your lips, he groans in response, his reaction uncontrolled and raw. His moans escape him in a series of loud, guttural sounds, each one filled with the urgency of his desire and the pleasure coursing through him.

With a confident hand, you unzip his jeans, anticipation building with each tug of the zipper, until they're open and his arousal is straining against the fabric of his boxers. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to the fabric covering his cock, you revel in the feeling of his hardness beneath your lips, the heat of his desire seeping through the fabric. His reaction is immediate, a guttural groan escaping him as he feels your warm breath against his skin, the promise of pleasure tantalisingly close.

With a wicked grin, you tease him further, nipping at the edge of his boxers before slowly sliding them down, revealing his throbbing length in all its glory. The sight of him, hard and ready for you, only fuels your own desire, igniting a hunger that demands to be sated.

"You're driving me insane," he growls, his voice thick with desire as he locks eyes with you, the intensity of the moment igniting a fire between you. "Now, are you gonna suck my cock like the good girl you are?"

With a smirk playing on his lips, he teases you with his cock, tracing the tip along your parted lips. He grips his hardness firmly, using it to lightly slap against your eager mouth, the sensation sending shivers of excitement down your spine. Your mouth hangs open, ready and waiting for him, aching to feel him fill you completely.

With a hungry urgency, you take him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around him as you sink down onto his hardness. You touch each other all over, your hands exploring his body while his fingers tangle in your hair, 

Your head bobs rhythmically, your mouth working him with skill and determination, each movement eliciting loud grunts and moans from him. He guides your movements with his hands, urging you to take him deeper, to suck him harder, to drive him to the brink of ecstasy.

"Fuck, that's it," he groans, his voice thick with desire as he watches you pleasure him. "Just like that, baby, take me all the way."

You comply eagerly, your hand tight around his length as you stroke and tease him, syncing your movements with the rhythm of your mouth for maximum pleasure. His rough and primal sounds of pleasure fill the air, spurring you on as you work him towards release.

But he wants more, needs more. With a sudden roughness, he tightens his grip on your hair, pulling you closer until your head is arched back, your neck exposed for him to take control. With a makeshift ponytail in his grasp, he guides your movements, angling your head for a better angle as he thrusts into your mouth with renewed intensity.

You surrender to his dominance, letting him guide you as he thrusts deeper into your mouth, each movement driving you both closer to the edge. Your senses are overwhelmed by the taste, the scent, the feeling of him filling you completely, and you revel in the primal pleasure of giving yourself over to him entirely.

"Fuck yes," he growls, his voice a primal command as he takes control. "Suck my cock, just like that. I want to feel you swallow me whole."

His grunts and moans grow louder, more urgent, as he approaches the pinnacle of his ecstasy. With one final, powerful thrust, he releases himself into your waiting mouth, 

As you take his cum, you look up at him with eyes that are both desperate and satisfied, your mouth aching for more of him even as you savour the taste of his release. “That’s it, baby.” He strokes your hair softly, relishing in the feeling of you tasting his cum. 

He whispers huskily, "take it all, baby... swallow every fucking drop."

You gaze up at him with a mix of desire and vulnerability, your eyes pleading and soft. He feels a primal urge stir deep within him. The sight of you, so desperately wanting, ignites a fire in his veins and a fluttering feeling in his chest. 

With a growl of need, he effortlessly lifts you from the floor, his strength undeniable as he pulls you into his arms. Lowering you onto his lap, he holds you close, his hands roaming over your body with possessive urgency. Each touch is rough yet tender, a silent declaration of his desire to claim you as his own. And as he pulls you closer, the heat between you intensifies, the air thick with anticipation and need.

In his hold, your bodies meld together, hips moving in a primal rhythm, grinding against each other with an urgency that borders on desperation. As your lips meet, it's a clash of tongues and teeth, a passionate exchange that leaves you both breathless. Moans and sighs escape between kisses, mingling with the sound of your heavy breathing as you lose yourselves in the moment.

Breaking apart briefly, you pant against his lips, your desire evident in every ragged breath. "I wanna fuck you so badly, please," you whisper, your voice a husky plea.

With a low growl of desire, he meets your gaze, his eyes smouldering with need. "Ride my cock, baby," he commands, his voice rough with urgency as he guides your hips, urging you to take control. 

His hands move with purpose as he pulls your dress up to bunch around your waist. His fingers deftly unzip the back of your dress, exposing your back and revealing your breasts, a sight that only fuels his desire further. With a primal need, he leans down to pepper kisses along your exposed neck, his lips trailing a path of fire along your skin.

You feel the pulsating heat of his arousal throbbing against your dripping core as you lower yourself onto his cock. A primal moan escapes his lips as you take him deep inside, your walls greedily enveloping him in a tight, wet embrace. With each downward thrust, you revel in the sensation of him stretching you, filling you completely, sending sparks of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

"That’s it," he groans, his voice husky with desire as he grips your hips, urging you to ride him harder. "You take me so well." He praises, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek. 

Your bodies move together in a frenzied rhythm, the sound of your skin slapping against his filling the room with the symphony of your passion. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating heat between you.

Your breasts bounce in front of him, a tempting display that drives him wild with need. He reaches up to grasp them, his fingers kneading and teasing your sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

"You’re so fucking hot," he growls, his voice rough with urgency as he meets your gaze, his eyes burning with unbridled lust.

With each bounce on his cock, you relentlessly ride him, your bodies colliding with the sound of skin slapping against skin. The sensation of him filling you completely, stretching you to your limits, is overwhelming, a delicious tightness that leaves you breathless with desire.

Sunghoon can't help but marvel at how impossibly tight you feel around him. Every inch of his cock is enveloped in the warm, velvety embrace of your pussy, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through him with each thrust.

Your walls grip him with an intensity that leaves him breathless, a sensation so exquisite it borders on agonizing. He can feel every twitch, every ripple of your inner muscles as you ride him relentlessly, driving him to the brink of ecstasy with your insatiable hunger.

As the intensity of your rhythm escalates, the impending release becomes undeniable. "Sunghoon, Sunghoon," you gasp, your voice barely audible as you cling to him, the sensations overwhelming.

He meets your gaze with a primal hunger, his own need evident in the depths of his eyes. "I know, I know," he growls, his voice strained with urgency. With synchronised movements, you both reach the peak together. Your bodies tremble with the force of your climax, every nerve ending ablaze with pleasure.

"I'm cumming!" you cry out, your voice echoing in the room as your walls clamp down around him, milking him for every drop of pleasure. Sunghoon's own release follows suit, his moans mingling with yours as he spills himself into you, filling you with his warmth.

As you reach up to gently brush the hair away from his face, you notice a change in Sunghoon’s demeanour. His features soften, his expression becoming more relaxed and carefree under your touch. An unspoken tension, one that he didn’t even realise he was carrying, was released, leaving him looking more casual and at ease. Under your hold, you can feel the satisfaction coursing through you, you did this to him. 

“Are you tired?” he asks sweetly, his voice laced with concern as he looks down at you.

You shake your head with a shy smile, reassured by the warmth in his gaze.

But before you can say anything else, he surprises you by suddenly lifting you effortlessly into his arms, turning you around with a speed that leaves you yelping in surprise. The sudden movement catches you off guard, a rush of exhilaration and excitement coursing through you as you find yourself wrapped up in his embrace.

As Sunghoon holds you in his arms, you feel a surge of exhilaration mixed with a potent cocktail of desire and trust. His strong and steady embrace grounds you, his warmth enveloping you in a sense of security and anticipation.

“Do you trust me, beautiful?” His whispered words send shivers down your spine. You nod eagerly in response. His kiss on the side of your head ignites a fire within you, fueling your desire and surrender.

Positioning himself behind you, Sunghoon aligns his throbbing cock with your eager entrance. With a primal growl that resonates deep within your core, he thrusts forward, driving deep into you as he supports your weight effortlessly.

His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding the rhythm of your movements with precision and intensity. Each thrust is a calculated display of strength and control, hitting all the right spots with a relentless pace that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

Despite carrying you, his movements are powerful and controlled, each thrust driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. The sensation of him deep inside you, his cock driving into you with primal intensity, is overwhelming and intoxicating.

With each thrust, he emphasises his strength, his dominance evident in every movement as he holds you close to him, his body pressed against yours. The slickness of your combined arousal acts as a natural lubricant, enhancing the pleasure of each thrust and driving you both closer to the brink of release.

In the heat of the moment, Sunghoon’s dominance takes centre stage as his fingers entwine themselves in your hair, firmly grasping a fistful of your locks. With each deliberate tug, he exerts his control over the pace and intensity of your movements, guiding you with a commanding yet sensual grip. As he pulls you closer, you can feel the electric tension building. 

With each rhythmic movement, his hand connects with your flesh, delivering a sharp, stinging sensation that ignites your senses. The contrast between the gentle glide of his thrusts and the sudden impact of his hand sends jolts of pleasure racing through your body, heightening the intensity of the experience. Each spank leaves behind a lingering warmth, a tangible reminder of his dominance and your shared desire. As the sensations wash over you, you find yourself surrendering to the raw passion of the moment, lost in the electrifying connection between you and Sunghoon

With your hands securely pinned behind your back, you’re completely at his mercy, unable to move or resist as he takes you with an intoxicating blend of strength and desire. His muscles ripple with every movement, his veins pulsating with the intensity of his passion. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, his biceps flexing with each powerful thrust. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, his primal energy consuming you as he claims you as his own. In his embrace, you’re lost in a whirlwind of pleasure and surrender, utterly captivated by the raw masculinity of his touch.

He’s crazy. With each sharp slap to your cheek and each forceful tug of your hair, there’s a gentleness in his soft kisses grazing your cheeks. Amidst the heat of passion, he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. 

You find yourself on the brink of ecstasy, your body writhing with desire as you whimper, “Please, I need to cum.” 

Sunghoon’s response is immediate, his deep whisper urging you on, “Cum for me, that’s my good girl.” 

With renewed intensity, he thrusts harder, driving you to the edge and beyond. Finally, as the pleasure overwhelms you, you reach the pinnacle of bliss, and with a primal cry, you release, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. In that moment of euphoria, you feel Sunghoon’s own release, his body tensing against yours as he joins you in ecstasy, the culmination of your shared passion leaving you both breathless and spent.

Sunghoon’s house is not what you expected. 

The cool evening air brushes against your skin as you approach Sunghoon’s place, his hand gently holding yours. He’d asked if you were comfortable coming over after the party, and something in his gaze made it impossible to say no. As you near his home, you’re taken aback by its appearance. Unlike the typical cramped student accommodations, Sunghoon’s house boasts a spacious front porch, its design minimalist but striking with shades of grey and sharp black accents.

“I live with a few other guys… it’s not all mine,” Sunghoon chuckles, noticing your wide-eyed wonder. His laughter eases the awe that had momentarily seized you.

“Who do you live with?” you ask, glancing around the spacious interior curiously.

Sunghoon chuckles, leading you through the open layout of the living room. “Jake, Jay, and Jungwon. Ni-ki and Yangyang practically live here too, though. It’s a big place, it never really feels crowded… the more, the better, actually,” he explains, his voice echoing slightly in the expansive space.

He continues, a smirk playing on his lips as he mentions Jungwon. “Jungwon can be a real pain sometimes, he’s the one who keeps telling me

you’re some Christian virgin but I tell him to shut up and hit him.” He says nonchalantly while you let out giggle. “But he’s one of my best friends. Always keeps things interesting around here.” He laughs softly, shaking his head at some unspoken memory.

“As for Jay, he’s the quiet, mysterious type. Doesn’t talk much, but he’s reliable, always there when you need him.” He adds thoughtfully. 

“Are they your best friends?” you ask, intrigued by the warmth in his voice when he speaks of them.

He nods, his expression softening. “Yeah, they’re the people I’m closest to. We’ve been through a lot together—it’s like having a second family, you know?”

“And Jake?” you ask, knowing he was closest to him out of all people 

“I love Jake.” He responds quickly and surely.

“Awww.” You coo.

Sunghoon’s expression softens. “Yeah, Jake and I go way back. He’s one of those friends who’s seen you at your worst and still thinks the best of you,” he explains with a laugh. “I’ve known him the longest. He has this way of keeping me grounded, especially when things start to feel overwhelming. His voice is so calm and he’s always so understanding, I’ll always be so thankful for him.”

He shifts slightly, his enthusiasm growing as he talks about his friend. “We don’t always have to talk to communicate. All we need to do is look in each other's eyes and we know what the other is thinking.” 

He says it so seriously but you can’t help but snort. “That’s incredibly romantic.” 

He rolls his eyes, a sign he’s used to that response whenever he speaks about Jake. 

He takes you inside, then leads you on a brief tour, his hand still warm in yours. “My favourite part, the kitchen,” he announces as you step into a sleek, modern space. The kitchen is a testament to minimalist design, dominated by grey tones with vibrant blue accents that add a playful splash of color. The clean lines and uncluttered surfaces reflect a sense of order and style.

“You cook?” you ask, genuinely surprised by the sophisticated setup.

“Do I cook?” he repeats with a raised eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m the best cook around.”

The confidence in his voice sparks a smile on your face. “You’re gonna have to cook for me one day,” you say, the words slipping out more comfortably than you expected. It feels natural, easy even and you just allow it to happen. 

“Yeah, I’ll make it my best work,” he responds, his smile broadening. He looks down at you with a warmth that makes your heart flutter slightly.

As you and Sunghoon chat comfortably in the kitchen, the sudden sound of footsteps causes you to startle. Before your nerves can fully spike, you realize it’s Jake entering the room. He seems nonchalant, sporting headphones and munching on popcorn, oblivious—or perhaps indifferent—to your presence.

Jake’s casual demeanour initially leaves you wondering if this is a common scene for him, witnessing Sunghoon with company. Sunghoon, for his part, doesn’t seem surprised or perturbed by his friend’s appearance, reinforcing the depth of their friendship. They’re comfortable around each other, sharing a living space without the constant need to fill it with conversation.

However, the quiet moment shifts as Jake finally acknowledges the room. He pulls one earbud out, glancing up from his phone with a mischievous smirk. His eyes flicker between your entwined hands and both your faces, a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Don’t start fucking each other against the countertop. I just cleaned it,” he quips, his tone light but pointed.

Sunghoon simply rolls his eyes, a small laugh escaping him as he looks at you, unfazed by Jake’s comment. “Ignore him,” he advises with a grin, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “He always loves to tease.”​

Some time passes and Sunghoon leads you to the third floor, to his room. When he pushes open the door, a sense of tranquillity washes over you. The room is meticulously curated, the white walls pristine, exuding an aura of calm and control. Your eyes immediately travel to the bed, high-set with a soft charcoal comforter. Above his bed, an abstract painting commands attention—its tempestuous strokes of blues and greys mirroring the complexity within Sunghoon himself. 

On one side, a sleek desk stands, supporting a high-powered computer with dual monitors. A nearby shelf holds a collection of engineering textbooks and a scattering of eclectic reads, your eyes lighting when you see some of your own favourite books. 

The room’s ambiance is carefully controlled, LED strips casting an intentional glow, highlighting the books and illuminating a space that is both a study and a sanctuary. His headphones lie within reach, resting comfortably on its own stand. 

As Sunghoon’s voice breaks the quiet, you realise he’s been watching you take it all in. “Do you want to change into something more comfortable?” 

You nod but then your smile falters. “I didn’t bring anything —”

Before you can finish, Sunghoon is pulling out one of his black hoodies, his movements smooth and assured. You accept it with a quiet “thank you,” your fingers brushing against his as you take it.

The moment’s calmness is palpable as you sit on the edge of Sunghoon’s bed, the comforter cool beneath you. Sunghoon bends down to retrieve a couple of drinks and snacks from a compact compartment below, something you hadn’t noticed in his room prior. With a fluid motion that suggests familiarity, he pops open your drink using his teeth, his hands full, and hands it to you. 

Does he realise how hot that was? 

It’s then, as you reach out to accept the cold can, that your gaze lands on a photo by his bedside—a polaroid capturing a candid moment. A leaden sensation creeps into your chest, a tightness that’s unfamiliar yet instinctive. The polaroid shows Sunghoon with Arin share a blissfully happy moment, her radiant smile lighting up the room as she sits comfortably on his lap. They are wrapped in an intimate embrace, his arm securely around her, their gazes locked in an affectionate fondness. Arin looks breathtaking, embodying a natural beauty that deepens the pang of unease in your chest. Witnessing their intimate connection depicted so vividly in the snapshot, you can’t help but frown, a reaction Sunghoon catches instantly.

Without realising, a frown forms on your face, your fingers tightening around the can. Sunghoon’s gaze shifts from you to follow your line of sight, and with an ease that startles you, he plucks the photo from its place. The action is dismissive, an erasure of history as he tosses it into the nearby bin without a second glance. 

“What do you want to watch?” he asks, turning to face you with the remote in hand.

You shrug playfully, “You choose.” A grin spreads across your face as you hear the faint clicks of him browsing through the movie selections.

As Sunghoon fiddles with the projector, the soft glow of the screen illuminates the room, casting playful shadows around his minimalist space. You settle more comfortably into his bed, pulling a cushion under your arm.

Your giggle fills the room when you see his choice pop up on the screen—Lemonade Mouth. It’s unexpected, and his reasoning makes you chuckle even more. “Seems fitting to watch the most iconic movie about a band with the hottest and coolest band member I know,” he explains, a teasing tone in his voice.

“It’s an amazing movie,” you whisper, sinking deeper into his bed, drawing the comforter up to your chin. You’re so engrossed in the opening scene that you don’t notice Sunghoon’s gaze lingering on you, his attention only half on the movie.

The film’s lighthearted humour unexpectedly draws peals of laughter from you, your giggles echoing in the quiet room. It’s endearing to Sunghoon, how easily you find joy in simple moments.

“Did you guys start your band in detention too?” he jokes, referencing the plot of the movie, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You shake your head, still smiling. “No, we started it because Sunwoo lost a bet. We’ve only been a band for like… less than a year.”

Settling back, he watches you more than the movie, a soft smile playing on his lips as he enjoys your reactions just as much as the film itself. The evening unfolds with a gentle, easy magic, the kind that seems to pause time just for the two of you.

As the characters in Lemonade Mouth rally together for their iconic ‘Determinate’ performance, Sunghoon chuckles, pointing at the screen. “Can Sunwoo and Eric rap like that?” he asks, genuinely curious yet teasingly.

You laugh, the sound is light and easy. “Both, actually. Especially Sunwoo—he’s surprisingly good. But he can’t ever be serious about it. I swear, half the time, I can’t take him seriously at all, and I can’t believe he’s in a band.”

Sunghoon’s laughter joins yours, creating a symphony of amusement that fills the room. “That must make rehearsals interesting,” he comments, imagining the scene.

“It’s like managing a group of kids sometimes.” You deadpan, eyes twinkling with the memories of countless rehearsals. 

As the movie winds down and the room dims with the soft light of the credits rolling, your eyelids grow heavy. Nestled comfortably under his covers, you find the cosy warmth too inviting, your voice barely above a whisper, “Can I stay here tonight?” You’re already sinking deeper into the cushion of his pillow, the fatigue of the night drawing you closer to sleep.

Sunghoon’s response comes with a gentle chuckle, warm and reassuring. “Yeah, you can,” he smiles, the softness in his voice making it clear you didn’t even need to ask. As you nestle in, he reaches out, his touch light as he brushes his hand over your cheek. “Don’t you wanna remove your makeup before you sleep?” he asks, his concern tender.

You groan softly. “Can’t be bothered,” you mumble.

Without hesitation, Sunghoon offers, “I’ll do it for you.” He pulls open a drawer, retrieving cotton pads and makeup remover. His movements pause as his fingers brush over the items—remnants of past routines, he frowns, breathing in deeply before letting it out. Not tonight, not now. 

He gently turns your face towards him, ensuring not to disturb you too much as your eyelids flutter in the struggle to stay awake. With care and immense attentiveness, he begins to dab at your face, removing the makeup with strokes so soft they could be mistaken for a caress. Each motion is careful, ensuring not to tug at your skin, his touch as light as air.

“So pretty,” he whispers, his voice a hush in the quiet room. He finds you absolutely breathtaking like this, bare-faced and in his hoodie, resting on his side of the bed. Normally he doesn’t let anyone sleep on his side of his bed, but with you, he decides to make an exception. 

Sunghoon reaches for a spare blanket and pillow, throwing both onto the couch beside his bed but just as he turns to leave, your hand reaches out, catching his wrist with a gentle, yet firm grip, your fingernails embedded in his wrists slightly. 

“Don’t go,” you murmur, the softness of your voice masking the intensity of your plea.

He pauses, turning back with a chuckle. “I sleep here all the time, it’s fine,” he assures you, his voice a blend of amusement and comfort.

But tonight, you want him closer. “I want you to stay,” 

Sunghoon sighs, a sound of subtle delight, he can’t argue with that. as he slides into the bed beside you. “You’re kinda on my side of the bed,” he teases, a playful note in his voice that makes you smile in the dimly lit room.

“Come closer then,” you whisper back, shifting to make room and tossing the spare pillow off the bed. Your arms open, inviting him into a more intimate embrace. He obliges without hesitation, his hands finding their way to the small of your back, his fingers trailing along your skin as he pulls you closer, the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. The fabric of his shirt is soft under your fingertips, and you trace patterns absentmindedly as you both adjust into a comfortable cuddle. His presence is a calming force, and you feel the earlier tension of the evening begin to dissipate.

The proximity is electrifying yet soothing, with his breath rhythmic and steady against the side of your face. “This is better,” you admit, your voice a soft confession in the quiet of the room.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. His hand finds its way to your hair, fingers gently sifting through the strands, a touch that sends shivers down your spine.

“Mmm,” you hum in response, content and a little more daring as the night deepens. “I like having you close,” you continue, the words spilling out with a vulnerability that feels right in the moment.

Sunghoon’s response is a gentle squeeze of his arms around you, pulling you even closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you, his voice a low rumble that you feel rather than hear. His hand trails down your back, settling with a comforting weight that anchors you to the moment, to him.

The morning after, sunlight sneaks through the curtains, painting the sheets in a warm glow. You wake up to find yourself comfortably nestled in Sunghoon’s arms, his arms secure around you. Is it the bed or his strong embrace making you feel so cozy?

You feel his warm breath on your skin as Sunghoon leans in to kiss you, his lips hovering just inches from yours. But before he can make contact, you blurt out the question that catches him off guard.

“How did you find fucking me?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

He pauses, his lips lingering near yours for a moment before he chuckles softly. “Good morning to you too,” he replies, giving you a quick peck on the lips.

“Was I good?” you press, your heart pounding in your chest.

Sunghoon plays with your earrings, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “Really good,” he admits, his voice husky with desire.

“Really?” you can’t help but sound a bit silly, your insecurities bubbling to the surface.

“There’s a reason I kept calling you my ‘good girl’,” he reassures you, his words sending a flutter of excitement through you.

You giggle at his response, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you. “I mean, who taught you how to suck cock like that?” he teases, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

“I’m self-taught,” you continue, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “No one needs to teach me.”

He moves his body on top of you, his gaze smouldering with desire. “Do you want to show me what else you’ve learned?” he asks, his voice low and husky with anticipation. His eyes lighting when you nod eagerly. 

You fidget with the hem of Sunghoon’s hoodie as you descend the stairs, the fabric soft against your skin but heavy with the weight of the night before. Hickeys dot your neck, a visible reminder of the passion that unfolded in the quiet of his room. Sunghoon follows closely behind, his hand finding the small of your back, a silent assurance as you step into the heart of his home.

The kitchen buzzes with morning activity, the air thick with the scent of coffee and the low hum of conversation. It’s a stark contrast to the serene isolation of Sunghoon’s bedroom. You’re not prepared for the burst of energy that greets you, but then again, you should have expected it. Sunghoon’s housemates, a notorious and eclectic group known campus-wide, are gathered around the island, their presence as commanding as their reputations.

Jake spots you first, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Good morning, did you sleep well? Or should I say, fuck well?” he teases, winking at you with a grin that spells trouble.

Jungwon stands, clapping dramatically as he eyes the marks on your neck. “Oh, look, someone lost their virginity!” he declares, earning a chorus of laughs from the others.

You shoot him an annoyed look, choosing not to engage with his antics. Jay leans against the counter, a smirk playing on his lips. “Did he fuck you do hard that you couldn’t make a sound? We didn’t hear a peep last night,” he adds, his voice dripping with mock concern.

Despite the barrage of teasing, Sunghoon remains unfazed. He steps closer, his arm snaking around you, pulling you to his side. His presence is a wall against the playful onslaught. “Ignore them,” he murmurs, his voice low and comforting by your ear, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek. 

You feel a tightness in your chest as their chatter swirls around you, the familiarity and ease of Sunghoon’s friends contrasting sharply with your own nervousness. You cling slightly to Sunghoon, tightening your grip on his arm. You manage a small smile, avoiding direct eye contact with the group, your gaze flickering between the countertop and the mug you’re now holding.

With a soft touch, he leans down, his breath warm against your ear. "Hey, just take a deep breath, okay? They really like you," he whispers just for you, the reassuring tone blending with the underlying rumble of his voice. He guides you subtly to stand slightly behind him.

You nod, managing a shy smile as you lean into his protective form, feeling the tension begin to ease. The physical closeness, Sunghoon's body shielding yours, brings a quiet comfort that helps you relax into the moment, the earlier apprehension slowly melting away under his attentive care.

As the weeks pass, your interactions with Sunghoon become increasingly frequent and intense. You find yourself actively seeking him out.You’ve spent endless nights in his house, in his room. Endless laughter and soft touches weave between you, gradually building a deeper connection. Days without seeing him leave a noticeable void, highlighting just how integral he has become to your daily life.

Park Sunghoon was not what you expected, he was better, he left you breathless. He had effortlessly evolved into a constant presence in your world. His ability to make you laugh and smile becomes a cherished aspect of your days together. You don’t shut up around him; it’s something he wasn’t expecting. He finds it endearing, how much you babble and talk. You simply share every thought and feeling with him — unmasked and raw. It was a massive difference to the shy girl who never used to be able to look him in the eyes.

(You still struggle making direct eye contact with him though). 

You don’t know how it happened so quickly, but you begin trusting him and instinctively needing him around before actively realizing it. It was your bodies and minds’ natural response.

In getting to know Sunghoon, you discover a multitude of shared interests, from music and literature to movies and even Lego sets. Yet, it's the differences that add depth to your connection. Sunghoon exuded confidence, his outgoing nature and commanding presence drawing you in. He knew how to navigate any situation with ease, always in control and never at a loss for words.

Yet, alongside his confidence was a wild streak that ignited a fire within you. He embraced the thrill of indulging in drugs, drinking, sex and getting high, finding euphoria in the freedom of letting loose. His uninhibited nature was undeniably attractive, adding to the magnetic pull you felt towards him.

Despite his wild side, Sunghoon displayed a remarkable intellect and dedication to his studies. He approached engineering with a seriousness that spoke to his ambition and drive. Behind his cool exterior lay a focused individual with clear goals and aspirations for the future. This combination of intelligence, ambition, and spontaneity only served to deepen your admiration for him.

You also love when he kisses you. 

The entire world melts away in those moments, as his soft lips meet yours in a dance of warmth and affection. Each kiss is filled with smiles and unspoken promises, drawing you closer to him with every tender touch. The closeness you share in those stolen moments is everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more.

It happens often—more often than you would have expected. You find yourselves kissing, making out, lost in each other’s embrace, more frequently than you could have imagined. Yet, despite the overwhelming desire that burns between you, you haven’t been able to take that next step.

Do you want to have sex with him again? Yes, without a doubt. The thought of being intimate with him again sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. But have you been able to? No. And why? The answer eludes you, buried beneath layers of uncertainty and hesitation.

You meet his eyes through the reflection in the mirror, the anticipation palpable in the charged air between you. His hands trail down the curve of your back. As he zips up the back of your dress and places your necklace around your neck, his whispered words send a wave of bliss coursing through you.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs into your ear, arching your neck to meet his eyes directly now. his lips pressing against yours with longing, roughness, and breathlessness all at once. You moan softly into his mouth, your fingers instinctively fisting in his hair as he effortlessly picks you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist.

With a sense of urgency, he guides you to the chair by his desk, both of you breathless and eager for more. You straddle him, the heat of your bodies igniting as you grind against each other. As the cool metal of the zipper trails down the small of your back, a shiver runs through you—mixed, not with the anticipated thrill, but an unsettling trepidation. Your breath hitches, caught in the tangle of your conflicting desires. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The question haunts the fringes of your mind, echoing with each inch of fabric that parts under his fingers.

He pauses, and the room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. You can feel his gaze, heavy with concern, as he leans back to look at you. It’s a careful, searching look, one that seems to pierce right through the façade of readiness you’ve put up. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low, a soft thread in the tense silence.

Your heart pounds louder, faster, betraying your outward calm. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you meet his eyes—so full of worry now. Why can’t you just be okay with this? The frustration at yourself bubbles up, sour and accusing. You feel exposed, not just in flesh but in spirit, as if he’s peeling back layers you’re not ready to shed.

You open your mouth to speak, to explain, but the words dissolve into a heavy breath. His concern deepens, the atmosphere shifts; it’s no longer just about desire, but about the raw, unmasked corners of vulnerability. “Y/N,” he says, and it’s gentle, almost reverent. 

In that moment, caught between wanting and uncertainty, you realize the gravity of intimacy—not just the physical merging, but the emotional exposure. It’s not just bodies that are laid bare in such encounters, but hearts and hidden fears, all intertwined.

He catches every faltering word, his expression softened by an empathetic understanding that seems to wrap around you like a warm blanket. “It’s okay. You don’t need to say sorry,” he reassures you, his voice steady, a stark contrast to the tremble in your own.

You glance up at him, the turmoil inside bubbling over. “No, I do… I do want to have sex with you, I think I do but something is holding me back. Something doesn’t feel right inside of me, and I don’t know what it is. I just feel weird, I feel tense, my anxiety has never felt this high.” The words spill out in a rush, your voice cracking under the strain of the heavy, churning emotions.

“I feel nauseous. I’m sorry… I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or guilty. I’m really sorry.” You mumble, biting your lip to hold back the tears that threaten to break free. Guilt gnaws at you, twisting tighter with each apology, fearing how your words might weigh on him.

He listens, his eyes never leaving yours, not even for a moment. There’s no hint of frustration or judgement, only deep, unwavering patience. “You don’t need to say sorry to me about that, or explain yourself to me, ever,” he responds, his tone firm yet gentle. It’s comforting, like a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of your emotions.

“I know what you’re feeling. Having sex does take a toll on your body and mind. It can be a lot mentally. You don’t need to explain yourself to me because I will always understand, okay? Just tell me if anything is making you uncomfortable and don’t ever feel guilty about it.” His assurance is a soothing balm, addressing not just the immediate anxiety but acknowledging the broader, often unspoken pressures that come with intimacy.

The room stills, the earlier tension slowly dissipating as his words settle over you. You nod, a silent acknowledgment of his kindness. In this moment, the physical space between you is charged with a new, quiet intimacy—a connection not of bodies, but of souls understanding each other in profound silence.

His hand reaches out, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. It’s a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes, reinforcing the safety and acceptance in his presence. It’s not about what happens next, or what didn’t happen tonight. It’s about being seen, understood, and cared for without conditions. And in that understanding, the heavy cloak of anxiety begins to lift, replaced by a lighter, more hopeful sensation—a whisper of peace amidst the storm.

“Do you still wanna go or do you wanna stay here and chill for the night?” he asks, his voice gentle, leaning in close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes search yours for an answer, patient and undemanding.

You smile, a wave of relief washing over you at how understanding he is. “Of course I still want to go.” You respond, your voice steady but soft. There’s comfort in his presence, a safety that peels back the layers of guard you’ve meticulously built around yourself. For a moment, you hold his gaze, seeing the sincerity and warmth that flicker in his eyes, revealing his true intentions. It’s this truth that captivates you, locking your eyes with his and making the world around you fade.

He nods, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips. Standing, he offers his hand, and you place yours in it, feeling a rush of warmth from his touch. His hand is strong and secure around yours, a contrast to the smooth, gentle hold that sends a thrill up your arm. As he leads you through the crowd, you can’t help but notice the confident way he moves—each stride purposeful and assured, his shoulders relaxed yet commanding presence. The feeling of your hand in his—a delicate yet perfect fit—makes your heartbeat a little faster.

Sunghoon also bonded with your friends, although it got a bit awkward considering he had fucked Nayoung and Eunji before, it’s not shocking, he has a high body count. It wasn’t easy to forget that the way he met you was through Nayoung, through his initial interest in her. But it was clear that boundaries were now set, and he viewed them as your friends specifically. 

Sunghoon exuded an unexpected chill vibe that effortlessly drew people to him. He possessed a natural charisma that made it easy for him to get along with everyone, though not in a desperate, boundary-less way. Rather, he was the type who genuinely wanted to keep everyone happy and safe, yet he also harbored a darker, more defensive side. If you crossed him or someone he cared about, he wouldn’t hesitate to assert himself. 

His presence was magnetic, with eyes following him wherever he went. Being around him was like basking in sunshine—impossible not to smile, to feel light and happy, to keep your eyes fixed on him with a wide smile. That’s why you warmed up to him so easily. His ability to effortlessly connect with your friends was incredibly hot, and seeing him make an effort was a major turn-on.

Your friends have grown accustomed to seeing you in their own world, whenever you and Sunghoon are together, their glances and remarks go unnoticed by both of you. You’re so engrossed and caught up in each other that the outside world fades away. There’s constant eye smiles, giggling, stolen glances, whispers, and communications, all adding to the intimate atmosphere. Physical closeness comes naturally, and you always make space for him. He, in turn, chooses to sit next to you and focuses solely on you.

You’re in the campus student lounge rooms. The last time you were here, the mere thought of him used to send chills down your spine, he used to make you incredibly nervous. The last time you were here with him was the morning after you had sex, and the memories flood back, mingling with the present moment.

But now? You’d say you’ve become a lot more comfortable around him. Don’t get it wrong, he still makes you nervous. At times it’s still difficult to look into his eyes and he loves it, especially right now, when he’s tracing the skin under your pretty little skirt with such precision. His eyes gaze into yours, penetrating deep into your soul, while the sides of his lips upturn into a smirk. As always, your friends are rolling their eyes as you and Sunghoon are eye-fucking again, completely oblivious to the scene around you.

Why is he touching you? Well, you mentioned wanting a tattoo, so you asked Sunghoon to trace an artistic outline of what he thinks would look good on you. Of course, deep down, you just wanted his hands on you; you weren’t actually planning to get inked. But you couldn’t exactly blurt out, “Sunghoon, please touch me!” in front of everyone, could you? He doesn’t mind though; he sees right through you and finds you endearing and cute. Plus, he’s not exactly opposed to any excuse to touch you either.

As Sunghoon’s fingers glide over the bare skin of your thigh, you feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins. His touch is electric, sending shivers of anticipation up your spine. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but the sound escapes anyway, earning a smirk from Sunghoon.

“Really? In front of everyone?” he teases, his voice husky in your ear, dripping with desire. You shake your head, unable to form words as his touch sets your nerves on fire. Every brush of his fingertips sends waves of pleasure straight to your core.

“You like that?” he whispers, his warm breath tickling your ear. You can only whimper in response, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with each passing moment.

His hand moves with purpose, tracing the curve of your thigh before inching higher, closer to where you need him most. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, matching the fire burning within you.

In your mind, you’re chanting “higher” over and over, craving his touch to escalate. Suddenly, his voice, a low whisper in your ear, sends shivers down your spine. “You want me to touch you higher?” His words, dripping with seduction, fuel the fire burning within you.

How does he know? It’s maddening yet exhilarating, the way he can read your desires with just a glance. You bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan building in your throat, but it’s futile. You want him to know, to feel the raw intensity of your longing.

“No,” you manage to whisper, but it’s a lie, a feeble attempt to resist his irresistible allure. He smirks knowingly, his fingers teasingly brushing against your folds, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You can’t hold back anymore as desire consumes you, craving his touch, his warmth, his everything.

He repeats his question with a smirk, his tone dripping with teasing temptation. “No?” he says, drawing out the word, his eyes sparkling with mischief. But you’re beyond words now, lost in a haze of desire as his touch threatens to unravel you completely. All you can think about is him, his hands, his lips, igniting a hunger that only he can satisfy. “Hoon—”

As you lay your head on Sunghoon’s lap, the comfortable silence of the room wraps around you. You’re scrolling through his phone, a small gesture that shows just how close you’ve become, trusting each other with such personal devices. He’s doing the same with yours, each of you lost in a quiet exploration of memories captured in digital form.

Your fingers pause as you swipe through his camera roll, a gallery of his life displayed in bursts of pixels and colours. There’s an array of images: candid shots with friends, selfies, beautiful scenic photos, gym progress and a few of his university projects. You also come across an array of your own photos that you’d almost forgotten sending him—naughty and risqué shots of you in lingerie, revealing outfits, and even some playful nudes.

Then, amidst the casual swiping, you halt. A photo pops up that halts your breath and tightens your chest. It’s an image of Sunghoon with Arin. 

You were still unclear about who Arin was to Sunghoon, and the nature of their past relationship. He hadn’t ever spoken about her, and the bits you pieced together from Eunji and Nayoung suggested they were together a while ago, though whether it was serious or not, you couldn’t be sure. But seeing this photo cuts your breath in half.

They’re caught in a serene moment—her seated on his lap, an arm draped comfortably around her. Her smile is radiant, the kind that seems to illuminate her entire face, and her eyes sparkle with joy. Sunghoon’s gaze is fixed on her with an intensity that’s palpable, his eyes soft, mesmerised. It’s clear from the photo that there was something deep and affectionate between them.

Among the multitude of images, this one stands out conspicuously, the only visual record of her presence in his phone. The absence of any other pictures of her prompts a troubling realisation: he must have deliberately removed them, yet this one remains, was it accidental? Was it not? 

You doubt it. A chill runs through your spine, your breath shakes, and you feel a painful strain in your chest at the realisation. This photo had to be recent—you notice him wearing one of his commonly used jackets, and the hairstyle is the same.

You’re so incredibly jealous and shaken up that your vision blurs; you can’t think straight, you feel like you’re about to throw up, you feel so fucked up and nauseous that you don’t even think to check the date the photo was taken. All you can focus on is looking at her. 

You can’t believe how breathtaking the photo is. Arin’s dress hugs her figure elegantly, accentuating her curves in all the right places, while her radiant smile lights up the frame, infusing the image with an undeniable warmth. Her eyes sparkle with genuine joy, drawing you into their depths with an irresistible allure. But it’s the way Sunghoon looks at her that leaves an indelible impression on your mind—he’s captivated, his gaze fixed on her with a mesmerising intensity that speaks volumes.

As you stare at the image, a cold realisation washes over you. She embodies everything you fear you’re not; her ease and vibrancy in the photo make you painfully aware of what you perceive as your own shortcomings. Sunghoon’s mesmerised look serves as a sharp reminder of your insecurities, feeding the jealousy that coils tight in your chest.

Now you know what it means when people say that a photo speaks a thousand words. It’s evident just by one photo—they look like they’re in love. The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, confirming what your heart already suspected. With a single glance, the photo lays bare the truth of their relationship, leaving you reeling with a pang of heartache.

The photo stirs a storm of emotions within you—jealousy, envy, confusion. “She’s pretty,” you whisper to yourself, so quietly that Sunghoon doesn’t hear. You try to shake off the discomfort, to scroll past, but your eyes are glued to the image. Arin’s beauty, her dress, the happiness on his face—it’s a vivid portrayal of a potential love that fills Sunghoon’s life.

Silence stretches, heavy and thick, as you digest the image and its implications. The room suddenly feels smaller, the air around you charged with unsaid words and emerging doubts. Your fingers tremble slightly as they linger on the screen, the brightness of the phone casting shadows on your thoughtful face.

Sunghoon’s voice breaks through the heavy silence, calling out your name with increasing urgency. He notices the sudden change in your demeanor, the way you’ve gone silent and still, and follows your gaze to the photo of him and Arin. He meets your eyes, and there’s an unreadable, cold expression as if he’s masking or hiding something.

Your faint, broken voice fills the room with a small whisper. “Why do you have this photo on your phone?”

He’s about to answer, his mouth opening to form words that you’re not sure you’re ready to hear, when suddenly his phone vibrates loudly on the table. Your head snaps towards the device, a sharp intake of breath catching in your throat as you see the name illuminated on the screen. A single tear escapes, tracing a hot path down your cheek, but you quickly wipe it away before he can notice. With a huff, tinged with a mix of anger and hurt, you ask, your voice trembling slightly, “Why is Arin calling you?”

read part two here

Park Sunghoon was the bane of your existence.

The University’s study lounge buzzes with the sound of students shuffling in their seats, flipping through textbooks, and tapping away on their laptops. But for you, the noise fades into the background as your thoughts are consumed by one person: Park Sunghoon. He's become the bane of your existence, infiltrating your mind at every turn.

You try to focus on your studies, desperately attempting to absorb the intricacies of musical composition and sound design. But you can't do anything, you can’t focus on your assignments, eat, drink or work on your laptop without thinking of him. Every time you open your textbook, his face flashes before your eyes, distracting you from the task at hand. It's infuriating how effortlessly he invades your thoughts  against your own will. 

Nayoung’s infatuation with Sunghoon has reached insufferable levels ever since they started hooking up. It's all she ever talks about, as if he's some kind of god among men. But for you, he's just another distraction, a nuisance that refuses to leave you alone. Since they started hooking up, she's been relentless, unable to shut up about their sexual exploits. He can’t be that good…

For you, it's all just noise. You're simply not interested.

While everyone else on campus is busy fucking like rabbits, you couldn't care less. It's like you're the only one on campus who hasn't been sucked into the sex craze. Your focus is on your studies and your future, not getting laid. It's a stark contrast, but you're fine with being the odd one out.

You try to tune out Nayoung’s incessant chatter, but her voice cuts through the air like a knife. "Shut up, shut up!" she exclaims, slapping your hands hastily and pulling you from your thoughts.

You pout in frustration, resisting the urge to snap at her. "I'm not even talking..." you mutter under your breath, huffing in exasperation as you shut your laptop screen down. It's futile to even attempt to get any work done with Sunghoon constantly looming in your mind, taunting you with his presence.

"He's here... He's here! Fuck, he's walking my way and staring at me," Nayoung’s flustered words fill the air as she nervously adjusts her hair, throwing quick glances toward the entrance. You can't help but shake your head at her worry. There's no need for her to fret or make last-minute adjustments, Nayoung is effortlessly attractive, her beauty undeniable and her personality sweetly infectious. She has this casual, confident vibe that's undeniably sexy. It's clear why everyone seems to be wrapped around her little finger.

Then there's Park Sunghoon, making his entrance as if it's the most natural thing in the world to draw every eye in the room. He walks with a confidence that borders on arrogance, an aura around him that's almost too intense. He seems to claim every space he steps into as his own, and today, the cafeteria turns into his domain.

He makes his way over and takes the seat right beside you, as if that spot had been waiting just for him. As he settles in, you find yourself involuntarily gulping a bit, suddenly all too aware of the intensity of his presence. It's undeniable, the aura he carries; a blend of confidence and an almost tangible allure fills the space, charging the air around you. The whole place falls into a hush, the kind of silence that screams of everyone's rapt attention on him, and inevitably, on you by association.

As you catch sight of Sunghoon turning his gaze towards Nayoung, your eyes roll almost instinctively. He reaches out, taking her hand with a gentleness that contradicts his commanding presence, his lips brushing against her skin in a soft kiss. Nayoung’s reaction is immediate; she gulps, visibly struggling to maintain composure, taken aback by the tenderness of his touch.

It's a moment that, despite your usual disinterest, makes you understand just a fraction of the allure that Park Sunghoon carries with him. He's a presence that's hard to ignore, drawing you into his orbit whether you're willing or not.

"We still on for tonight, baby?" Sunghoon's voice sends a shiver down your spine, momentarily silencing the room. Nayoung is completely captivated by him, lost in her own world, unable to form a proper response. But when you nudge her foot with yours, she coughs and says, "Yes, I'll be waiting for you." Her voice is low and sultry, a hint of anticipation laced in her words. "In my bed, all alone, with no clothes on," she continues, biting her lip seductively as she tilts her head and winks at him. "I'll be yours to play with all night long." Her gaze smolders with desire as she waits for his reaction, teasing him with the promise of what's to come.

Sitting beside you, Park Sunghoon has the kind of presence that's impossible to ignore. From what you've heard, the stories that swirl around campus, he's the quintessential heartbreaker, popular, with an air of cockiness that he wears as comfortably as the clothes on his back. He’s dressed casually today, yet every piece seems carefully chosen to accentuate his athletic build—a testament to his dedication as a football player. His fitted t-shirt clings in all the right places, paired with jeans that manage to be both casual and unmistakably deliberate in their fit. His hair, a perfect shade that catches the light, is styled in a seemingly effortless manner, falling just so to frame his striking features.

Sunghoon’s face is a canvas of attractive contrasts; sharp jawlines meet soft, inviting lips, and his eyes, deep and expressive, hold a hint of mischief. There’s a natural symmetry to his features that’s compelling, drawing you in despite any reservations. The easy smirk that often plays across his lips suggests a man who knows his allure and isn’t afraid to use it to his advantage.

But it's not just his looks that have earned him his reputation. He's known to be overconfident, a trait that, combined with his status as a football player, makes him all the more prominent in the social hierarchy of campus life. His charm is scandalous, wielded with the precision of someone who knows just how impactful they are. He's the epitome of a fuckboy, leaving a trail of whispers and rumors in his wake.

Yet, despite the warnings, the stories of hearts left in his path, there's something undeniably captivating about him. He's social, able to navigate any conversation with ease, drawing people in with a magnetism that's hard to resist. And fucking handsome? Absolutely. There's a reason every glance he throws seems to linger, every smile feels like it's meant just for the receiver. It's this mix of danger and allure that makes him an enigma .

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when you catch Sunghoon and Nayoung exchanging glances so intense, they could only be described as eye fucking. And you're almost certain he's touching her under the table. Casting a discreet glance their way, disbelief washes over you. Their boldness in such a public setting is startling—where's the sense of privacy, the modesty? It's a display that leaves you questioning the very notions of discretion and boundaries in social interactions. 

You assumed your silent judgment would go unnoticed, as usual. Being invisible had its perks; it let you navigate these social seas undisturbed, a mode of survival that had become your comfort zone. Yet, just as you side-eye the intimate display between Sunghoon and Nayoung, Jungwon catches your gaze. With a wink, he throws a comment your way, "Don't feel left out, I'll fuck you," assuming a familiarity that you've never invited. 

Your response is immediate and flat, "Shut up," hoping to quash the conversation then and there with your deadpan delivery.

But then Jay chimes in, laughter barely concealed in his voice, "Dude, she's not gonna fuck you, that's the girl who's waiting until marriage." 

At Jay's words, a familiar rumor audible for all to hear, you can't help but roll your eyes. It's not the first time your personal choices became the focus of campus gossip, yet it never gets easier to hear it discussed so openly.

In that moment, Sunghoon's gaze locks with yours, a brief encounter that feels like an eternity. His eyes, sharp and probing, offer no hint of his thoughts, leaving you floundering in their depths. The intensity of his stare is unexpectedly captivating, sending a jolt of weakness through you that's both unsettling and embarrassingly thrilling. Despite the rumors and the situation, you're forced to admit, Sunghoon is undeniably hot.

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it passes. Sunghoon breaks the eye contact, returning to his own world with an ease that suggests he's completely unfazed by Jay's comment. This reaction, or lack thereof, catches you off guard. You had braced yourself for a tease or a quip, something to match Jungwon and Jay's playful torment. Yet, Sunghoon's disinterest and quick dismissal of the conversation leave you in a curious mix of relief and disappointment. 

One day you’re gonna cut Park Sunghoon’s cock off. 

There’s no way he can make a girl scream that loud.

The frustration builds within you as you sit in your room, once again failing to focus on studying the medical procedures you need to know by tomorrow. And who’s to blame? Park Sunghoon, of course. It’s the second time today his fucking with Nayoung has derailed your concentration. Normally, living with her is a joy; she’s your best friend, your better half. But in moments like these, you wish you could live alone, away from the constant distractions of her sex life.

She gets laid a lot, it’s a regular occurrence in your shared apartment. She’s louder than she normally is tonight, her moans and screams echoing through the walls without a hint of restraint. You try to drown out the noise, burying your head in your textbooks, but it's futile. You can't focus, your mind consumed by thoughts of Sunghoon and his cock. 

(Unfortunately) 

Eventually, the noise subsides, and you cautiously step out of your room, relieved that Sunghoon seems to have finally left. But as you round the corner, a low, deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you freeze in your tracks. He's still here. 

Panic sets in as you realise how you're practically walking around naked in an oversized top and short shorts, no bra to conceal your exposed skin. You curse under your breath, desperate to escape to the safety of your room, but you know he'll see and hear you if you make a move now.

With no other option, you dart behind the sofa, thankful for its strategic placement that shields you from his view. Heart racing, you hold your breath, praying he doesn't notice you hiding just a few feet away.  

Unbeknownst to you, Sunghoon's attention isn't on Nayoung; he wouldn't have recognized your presence even if you made noise. You're pretty sure Nayoung doesn't realize you're here either. Sunghoon is shirtless, basking in the afterglow of sex, but his focus isn't on Nayoung; he's not even looking at her.

The moment he entered the house for the first time, Sunghoon became enamored. It felt as though he was right where he was supposed to be. His eyes lit up with surprise and thrill as he noticed certain things and items that caught his attention—things he found cool and eye-catching. Despite never having been in this house before, it felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

His eyes sparkled with a light that you should've seen, a light that no other girl had brought to him before. "How did you get this?" he asks Nayoung in awe, marveling at a rare Lego set. 

"I didn't. It's my roommate's," she replies, her features showing amusement and disinterest. You had so many nerdy and niche things lying around, and Nayoung found none of them interesting.

Sunghoon spots a rare album, one he's never seen anyone have before. "This is really cool. I didn't know you were into—"

 "Yeah, that's also my roommate's," Nayoung interrupts. 

Sunghoon shakes his head in amusement, his eyes landing on a book, ‘Normal People' by Sally Rooney.  "What about this?” 

"A birthday gift from my roommate. I haven't checked it out yet," Nayoung replies.

"Oh, you should. It's really cool," Sunghoon says, scratching his head. He's about to apologise, realising he's delving too much into your personal space. But then his eyes land on a bass guitar and the apology fails to slip from his tongue. "Do you play bass? I always say that my ideal woman—" Sunghoon catches himself, sighing as he realises Nayoung silence. "—does not play bass, because this is clearly your roommate's."

"She's in a band," Nayoung says simply. 

"Damn, that's cool," Sunghoon whispers. "What's she like?" 

You gulp nervously, wondering why Park Sunghoon wants to know about you. You’re not used to the feeling of someone being interested in you, you’re not used to someone wanting to find out more and uncover you. It's incredibly foreign and unfamiliar. 

“She's in the matrix, she's a whore," Nayoung says, and you open your mouth in shock. What the fuck? No, you were not!

Sunghoon chuckles, and you realise Nayoung was just joking. Her next words warm your heart. "She's the best person I've ever met. She's really chill and calm, sweet to everyone, and fair. She has a really good heart. She's different from everyone we see on campus, different in a good way. She's a bit of a nerd; her main worries in life are how to get the next rare Lego set or make sure she has enough time to balance being in her band, acing all her med exams, and doing all that volunteering and extracurricular crap. She's a breath of fresh air."

Nayoung shakes her head with a dry chuckle. "This is unbelievable. You just picked out all the things in here that belong to my roommate. You didn't even spare a glance at the stuff that's mine.”

Yeah, because they're not interesting, Sunghoon thinks.

Nayoung eyes all of your possessions and shakes her head. She turns to Sunghoon. "It's really weird stuff, and I'm really shocked you find it interesting. I didn't expect it from you. I've never seen someone as interested in it... other than you and my roommate."

“My roommate is into pretty weird stuff. She does these weird paintings of robots playing sports.” 

Sunghoon scratches his neck and nods. “Yeah, that’s weird…” (He thought it sounded pretty cool). 

“She also has this crazy habit of making breakfast food sing show tunes, I mean, it’s not that annoying because she’s an amazing singer, she’s in a band so I’ll give that to her.”

"So does your roommate's band ever play shows or...?" Sunghoon asks.

"Get out," Nayoung bluntly says, pointing her arm towards the door.

Nayoung sighs; this always happens. Nayoung had a roommate complex. Unbeknownst to you, guys always dug her roommate, you. Only you would never know the full extent or seriousness of this, as you would never return the affection or interest. You were robotic, denying all forms of affection, so nothing ever came from guys wanting to fuck you. Paired with the rumor that you were strictly Christian and waiting until marriage to fuck, yeah, you weren’t going to get laid anytime soon. 

She takes a seat on the sofa and nearly jumps when she sees you sleeping there soundly. She didn’t know that you staged this; you knew she’d come to the couch after Sunghoon left, so you had to pretend you were sleeping. You couldn’t let Nayoung or Sunghoon know that you had heard and witnessed that entire interaction. She smiles at you and covers you in the blankets fully, readjusting your head and dimming the lights. She wasn’t surprised that you drew attention without trying to or even knowing that people were into you. 

She did have a really fucking cool roommate.

The next morning, Nayoung looks sad, her shoulders slumped as she sits at the kitchen table, picking at her breakfast. You take in her demeanor, noting the furrow in her brow and the downturn of her lips. You have to put your acting skills to use, masking the knowledge of why she's upset with a concerned expression. You go to her immediately, your voice filled with worry, "What's wrong? Did he? I'm gonna kill him—"

Nayoung huffs softly, a mix of frustration and resignation in her breath. "We're gonna stop seeing each other," she explains, her voice tinged with sadness.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you're about to throw hands but she shakes her head and tells you to calm down, making ‘no’ motions, a small smile playing at her lips. She shakes her head and chuckles softly, "No, he did nothing wrong. I'm not gonna miss him. I know this was just sex, but god, he's really attractive and has a good personality. I'm not getting caught up, but wow, I just feel overwhelmed and intense. How can someone be such an attractive and hot person and know how to use his cock?"

You're at a loss for words, your voice catching in your throat as you struggle to find the right response. You were awkward when it came to emotional conversations, you didn’t know how to comfort someone! One to one intimate moments like this overwhelmed you. However, Nayoung drops a bomb that leaves you speechless and stunned.

"And he likes you."

You choke on your own breath, your eyes widening in disbelief as you shake your head vehemently. "Me? What? That’s absolutely ridiculous, Nayoung, no he doesn’t! He doesn’t even know who I am."

Inner turmoil consumes you as conflicting thoughts swirl in your mind. How could someone like Sunghoon possibly be interested in you? You've never exchanged a single word, never shared a moment beyond fleeting glances in passing. Logically, it doesn't add up; you're strangers. He revels in the chaos of getting high and fuckinf, while you find solace in quiet evenings, lost in the intricate world of LEGO creations and the soothing melody of your bass guitar. It's inconceivable that someone like him could find anything remotely intriguing in someone like you.

"I'm telling you. He likes you. It's true! He pointed out every single thing in the living room that was yours. He likes all the things you do. He's a nerd like you."

Your voice cracks with disbelief, your hands gesturing in denial as you try to process Nayoung's words. "Park Sunghoon? Nerd? He's far from... he's a fuckboy and a football player, he's popular and parties like there's no tomorrow, he smokes and does drugs and—"

"Y/N! You know better than to stereotype. Yes, he does party, is popular, and loves fucking, but he's more than that. He's obviously more than that, and it's not like he hides it. You're only seeing what you want to see. The image you have of him in your head is an image that is surface level. He's actually a good guy, he doesn’t think of himself as above people, and he's chill and kind. He aces exams, and he fucking knows about all the rare little Legos like you do, so he’s clearly a nerd!"

You sigh heavily, feeling a mix of frustration and realization wash over you. Nayoung was right. You were only seeing what you wanted to see. Your idea of him was so fixed and stubborn that you refused to look deeper, beyond the surface.

"It’s like you, Y/N. People only see you as that nerdy, quiet loner who doesn’t talk to anyone and doesn’t drink or party. People think you’re weird—"

"Gee, thanks a lot," you cut off Nayoung's words, sarcastically thanking her for her honesty.

"But I know that you’re way more than that! Your main focus may be your studies, but you’ve got so many cute little side interests! It all adds to your personality and it’s all important. It shouldn’t be overlooked. It makes you who you are. Not only are you a med student, but you’re also in a fucking band! You’re the bassist! It’s fucking hot and cool, Y/N. Park Sunghoon even asked for the name of your band."

What you knew about Park Sunghoon’s cock was against your own will. 

Nayoung’s words echo in your mind, each syllable sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. "Sunghoon’s literally so good at dirty talk," she continues, her voice dripping with excitement. "He knows exactly how to please a woman. He doesn’t just stick his dick in and out. He actually has superb technique." 

You breathe heavily, shutting your laptop once and for all. "If you and Sunghoon have stopped seeing each other then why are you telling me this?" you interrupt, unable to conceal the frustration in your voice. Nayoung and Yeji exchange a glance, their eyes twinkling mischievously as they exchange silent communication. It's like they're speaking a language that only they understand, leaving you feeling increasingly left out and confused.

Nayoung and Eunji exchanged a look, and it utterly confused you. They'd been giving each other these secretive glances for the past week, making you desperately wish you could tap into whatever little secret they were keeping. Yet, whenever you brought it up, they simply shifted the topic.

"You guys are seriously starting to annoy me," you finally snap, unable to contain your frustration any longer. "Can you just tell me whatever the fuck it is you’re thinking about?" You're met with a knowing smirk from both Nayoung and Eunji, their lips quirking into sly smiles as they continue to exchange secretive glances.

Nayoung leans in closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she continues to regale you with tales of Sunghoon’s abilities in the bedroom. "You know, Sunghoon’s not just about the physical stuff," she says cryptically, her gaze flickering with something you can’t quite decipher. 

Eunji nods in agreement, her lips quirking into a sly smile as she adds, "He’s got this way of making you feel like you’re the only woman in the world when he’s with you. Once he went down on me and I couldn’t walk for days."

Your eyes widen in surprise at Eunji’s revelation, feeling a mix of shock and arousal coursing through you. "When did you fuck him?" you blurt out, unable to conceal your curiosity. 

She just laughs, shaking her head as she brushes off your question with ease. "We’ve casually fucked from time to time," she says nonchalantly. "It’s not that shocking, Y/N. His body count is high, after he broke up with Arin, his cock has been unstoppable."

You huff in disbelief. "Who has he not fucked?" you mutter under your breath, your mind reeling with thoughts of Sunghoon's sexual conquests. 

"You," Nayoung and Eunji say simultaneously, their words hitting you like a ton of bricks. Silence falls over you as you process their words, feeling a strange mix of shock and excitement swirling inside you.

"What is that even supposed to mean?" you stammer, feeling a sense of unease creeping over you at their cryptic words. 

Nayoung just smirks. “Nothing. I’m just telling you how good he is in bed.” You had a feeling she was lying. She had her reasons and motives, ones you were far from understanding.

"And why is that of use to me?" you question, expecting an answer. You turn to Sunwoo when you’re met with silence from the girls.

"Sunwoo, help me," you nudge him from beside you, knowing you could trust your closest and oldest friend.

You sigh in relief when he turns to the two girls. “Leave her alone, this Sunghoon thing is ridiculous, he’s way out of her league.” His words bring you peace and you rest your head against his shoulder, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I love you, Y/N, but no one is out of Sunghoon’s league. If anything, it’s the other way around,” Nayoung retorts.

“Thanks a lot,” you snort.

“It’s not just you, everyone is out of his league,” Eunji clarifies.

“I’m not,” Sunwoo says dryly.

“You shut up!” Eunji points an accusing finger at Sunwoo. “I know you have protective, brotherly tendencies when it comes to Y/N, but you have to admit… our girl needs cock!”

He turns to you, a knowing smirk that only the two of you will understand. “You do really need to get laid though,” he says in a low voice. 

Nayoung goes back to praising Sunghoon for his sexual abilities. “And let me tell you, his dirty talk is next level,” 

A devilish grin spreads across Eunji’s face as she shares a smirk with Nayoung, recalling one of her past encounters with Sunghoon. “I’ve never had sex with someone who has such good timing and pace,” she confesses. "He knows exactly what to do with his cock, hands, and lips, and where to do it."

"He’s not just in it for himself, you know," Eunji adds, her tone serious as she looks you straight in the eye. "He genuinely cares about his partner’s pleasure. He’s the perfect person to experience all of your firsts with."

"Hey!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of indignation rising up inside you. "This feels very targeted and personal," you accuse, your voice cracking with frustration. "Where is this coming from?" 

You had never spoken a word to Park Sunghoon in your life. Sure, you noticed that he seemed to take an interest in your belongings around the apartment, but that wasn't enough to warrant Nayoung and Eunji sudden push to get you interested in him. It all felt too orchestrated, too deliberate, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their agenda than they were letting on. Despite their efforts to convince you otherwise, you remained skeptical about the idea of getting involved with someone like Sunghoon, especially considering your vastly different personalities and lifestyles.

"I'm not saying you have to jump into bed with him right away," Nayoung says, her voice softening with sincerity. "But maybe give him a chance. You might be surprised. I know what you're gonna say, 'He's the Park Sunghoon, campus fuckboy and resident player, we're in completely different leagues and scenes, and we'll never get along.'" Nayoung mimics your voice, and you narrow your eyes.

"I sound nothing like that!" you frown, realizing you sounded exactly like that.

"Just think about it, Y/N," Nayoung says, her voice tinged with excitement.

"I'm not gonna think about it, my mind is gonna be on the gig I have tonight. You guys better be there!" you declare. 

Nayoung's response comes with a gleam in her eye, a spark of something mischievous lurking beneath her casual assurance. "Oh, we wouldn't miss it for the world," she says, her glance sliding over to Yeji as they share a knowing look. They wink at each other, sealing a silent pact, the first stage of their mission to bring you and Sunghoon closer is already in motion. 

Sunghoon received a text from Nayoung, inviting him to meet for some drinks at the bar. The anticipation of a night filled with pleasure courses through his veins, driving him to accept the invitation without hesitation.

He goes because he anticipates getting laid. Sunghoon enjoyed the sex with Nayoung, as he did with any other girl. He had an insatiable appetite for sex, and he never shied away from indulging in it. However, he was always respectful and mindful of boundaries. His partners knew that he was only seeking physical satisfaction, and he made sure they felt just as much pleasure as they gave him.

It didn’t matter to him if Nayoung's personality didn’t align with his; he was solely focused on fulfilling his carnal desires. Feeling sexually frustrated, Sunghoon eagerly heads to the bar, eager to find release in Nayoung's company.

Feeling sexually frustrated and on edge, Sunghoon's steps quicken as he approaches the bar, the dim lights and pulsing music heightening his senses. He craves the distraction, the temporary oblivion that comes with losing himself in the warmth of another body. And so, with a determined stride, he pushes open the door.

As Sunghoon strides into the dimly lit bar, the air heavy with the scent of alcohol and anticipation, he feels a rush of excitement course through him. Dressed in a sleek leather jacket that hugs his form, he exudes an air of rugged charm and allure as he scans the room, his eyes alight with anticipation.

The bar is cast in shadows, a dimly lit sanctuary with a retro flair that gives it an air of timeless charm. Neon signs flicker softly against the dark walls, casting a warm, inviting glow over the eclectic mix of patrons. The atmosphere is a blend of nostalgia and mystery, each corner telling a story, each shadow holding a secret. Vinyl records adorn one wall, a nod to the classics, while the low hum of conversation and the clink of glasses provide a steady soundtrack to the night.

A familiar tingle zips through him, it’s an echo of the sensation he felt that first time he crossed the threshold into your apartment, a sense of rightness, of being exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Something shifts inside him. The retro vibe, combined with the sultry air, sets a scene that's both familiar and charged with new energy. Shadows dance across the walls, and the music's pulse syncs with his own heartbeat, signaling a night of unexpected turns.

Amidst the noise and the crowd, Sunghoon spots Nayoung. She's there, laughing, surrounded by friends, exactly where he should want to be. But he doesn’t move towards her. Instead, there's a compelling force, a curiosity leading him elsewhere, towards something—or someone—he hadn't anticipated.

It’s you. 

Amongst the faces, yours catches his gaze like a lighthouse in the fog. It's inexplicable, this sudden redirection of his night, his desires. Something inside him has decided, without a word, that the night was never really about Nayoung. It was about discovering what he didn't even know he was looking for—until now.

Perched on the stage, bathed in the soft glow of the neon lights, you exude a magnetic energy that draws him in like a match to its flame. You were breathtaking. Dressed in a mini skirt that accentuates every curve of your ass and thighs, paired with a top that leaves little to the imagination, you radiate confidence and sensuality that leaves Sunghoon spellbound.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as Sunghoon’s gaze locks with yours, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you. In that instant, he feels a surge of desire unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Who were you? He was sure that you were one of the students at the college, he was sure he had seen you before. He’s just shocked that this is the first time he’s recognising how hot you are. 

In that fleeting moment, as Sunghoon's eyes meet yours, time itself seems to pause, the air charged with an electric tension. His gaze, intense and unyielding, speaks of a yearning that goes beyond mere attraction, hinting at depths of desire that are raw and untamed. As your smile fades, replaced by a questioning frown, the atmosphere thickens with unspoken possibilities, a palpable sense of what could be.

The sudden break in your smile sends a pang through Sunghoon, a silent plea for the connection not to sever. The eye contact between you is a live wire, sparking with the potential to ignite. Amidst the crowd, amidst the noise, there's a silent conversation happening, a dance of glances that speaks volumes.

Your mind races with questions. Why was Park Sunghoon here? He was the campus heartbreak and residential fuckboy, the last person you’d expect to see you play. You always assumed no one ever found you interesting so why does his interest seem to settle on you tonight? His reputation precedes him, yet here he is, looking at you with an intensity that suggests a desire for something more profound than his usual pursuits. 

You weren't naive, why was he looking at you like he wanted you? Like he wanted to fuck you. Why now? His gaze, laden with an unmistakable intensity, seeks to pierce through the layers, to see beyond the facade everyone else sees.

Your band commands the space. The rhythm is captivating, a vibrant blend of guitar riffs and drum beats that fills the room with an infectious energy. You're on the bass, and it's clear this is a passion. The bass itself is a striking piece, its sleek, polished wood and the smooth curves of its body reflecting the stage lights.

As Sunghoon watches, he can't help but marvel at the skill in your fingers. The way they dance and glide over the strings, with precision and a sort of grace that's both powerful and delicate, stirs something unexpected in him. His gaze fixates on your hands, fingers moving in perfect harmony with the music, and a primal desire ignites within him.

The thought of those talented fingers exploring your own body, tracing every curve and fold, sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine. He imagines the sensation of your touch, firm yet gentle. Lost in the moment, Sunghoon feels a surge of arousal building within him, his breath hitching as he envisions your fingers delving deeper. 

What fucks him up even more is when you smile at him, such an innocent smile that makes his chest tighten with an unexpected surge of desire. It's a smile that lights up your entire face, eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through Sunghoon's veins.

As you lock eyes with him and smile, Sunghoon feels as though the air has been knocked out of his lungs. You look breathtaking, radiant in the soft glow of the stage lights, your beauty almost otherworldly in its intensity. Every curve and contour of your features seems to be highlighted. 

You had no idea what he was thinking, so oblivious to the effect you had on him. It was maddening how effortlessly captivating you were, how your mere presence could stir such intense longing within him.

He knows this is wrong, that he shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts, shouldn’t be so turned on by you. Desperately trying to regain control of his thoughts, Sunghoon attempts to focus on the other members of the band. They exude coolness, lost in the music and their own world. But for all their visual appeal, none of them compare to you.

In that moment, Sunghoon finds himself singularly captivated by you, unable to tear his gaze away as he succumbs to the intoxicating allure of your presence.

He’s not the only one. The energy of the room has shifted, centering on your presence on stage. It's palpable, the way you've drawn every eye towards you. You're undeniably magnetic, a fact made evident by the sea of faces turned in your direction, yet what truly fascinates Sunghoon, what truly fucks his mind, is your obliviousness to the effect you're having. You’re just lost in the music, not looking for any approval or basking in the spotlight. This contrast, between how much you stand out and your indifference to it, really catches him.

Though he can't hear your laugh over the music, he sees the way your shoulders shake, the brightness in your eyes, and he knows—it's a sound he wants to discover, to keep. A smile, unbidden, spreads across his face, mirroring the joy he sees in you. It's a strange, fluttery feeling that takes residence in his chest, a sensation both foreign and exhilarating. 

Nayoung makes her way through the crowd to him, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She leans in close, her fingers tracing a daring path down his back and over his thighs. Her touch, bold and teasing, makes his heart skip a beat. "You wish that was Y/N touching you, right?" she whispers, her voice a blend of mischief and suggestion.

Turning to face her, Sunghoon's eyes darken, a smoulder of intensity burning within them as he contemplated her words. "Y/N?" The name, unfamiliar and yet suddenly significant, rolls off his tongue.

Nayoung's nod is all the confirmation he needs. "Yeah, she's the one. She's my roommate," she reveals, each word painting a clearer picture in his mind.

"I'm off to Jake's house, but you're staying here, right? Y/N normally walks home from the bar. Maybe you could offer to walk her, maybe keep her company. Our apartment is going to be empty… use your imagination." With a final wink, she slips away.

As Sunghoon steps out into the cool night, he spots you alone under a streetlamp, the smoke from your cigarette curling into the night air. As you take another drag, the ember glows, casting a soft light on your features. He’s mesmerised by the sight, a girl smoking would always be hot to him, the sight of the smoke framing your face proves that. It gives you a mysterious vibe, making you appear all the more captivating and irresistibly sexy in his eyes.

Drawn to you, he moves closer and asks if he can join. Noticing his gaze linger, you offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. You offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. As he accepts, your fingers brush against his, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. There’s a charged energy in the way your gazes lock. As he inhales, his jawline becomes more pronounced, the smoke curling around him like a caress. There’s a deliberate slowness to his exhale, the smoke weaving between you, creating an intimate veil. 

As the conversation between you and Sunghoon progresses, you find yourself surprisingly at ease in his presence. Normally, you'd keep your guard up, especially around someone as notorious as Sunghoon, but tonight, there's something different. Before you realize it, you're drawing him in closer, the usual barriers falling away. You might have blamed it on alcohol, but you're sober, leaving the connection between you both intriguingly genuine.

Conversation starts light, with Sunghoon leaning in slightly, the warmth of the moment closing the distance between you. "Watching you tonight… I was taken aback, you’re really good," he says, his voice low and appreciative, tinged with genuine admiration.

You laugh softly, a bit of surprise flickering across your face at his observation. "I just love playing, didn't think anyone actually noticed," you reply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a hint of bashfulness in your smile.

"Oh, trust me, it's hard not to notice," Sunghoon continues, his gaze steady on you, making sure you understand he's talking about more than just the music.

You giggle, feeling a mix of flattery and nervousness under his focused attention. "Well, I'm glad you think so. I'm usually just hoping I don't mess up the chords," you respond, trying to maintain a lighthearted tone, even as his compliment sends a warm flutter through you.

"Mess up? I think you could play anything and make it sound incredible," he asserts, a playful yet sincere edge to his words. His flirtatious confidence is smooth, but it's his underlying earnestness that catches you off guard, drawing an unguarded smile from you.

The conversation flows, creating a comfortable yet charged atmosphere. Your laughter comes more easily. With a playful smirk, Sunghoon’s eyes trail down your figure, appreciating the way your tight top accentuates your curves and your skirt hugs your hips and thighs. “You look stunning,” he comments, his tone flirtatious yet respectful.

Blushing at his compliment, you giggle softly and playfully respond, “I thought I looked pretty today.”

Sunghoon’s gaze meets yours, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. “You look hot,” he says, his voice dripping with desire, sending a thrill down your spine.

Your cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink as you accept Sunghoon's jacket, letting out a soft giggle that speaks volumes of your appreciation and the fluttering emotions within. "Thank you," you manage to say, your voice light and airy, tinged with a mix of gratitude and a growing warmth that has little to do with the dropping temperatures around you.

The way Sunghoon looked at you changed everything. You had noticed his eyes when you were on the stage and you’re noticing it now. The opinions you had formed about him, the guard you had meticulously built up, the walls you constructed around yourself—all of it began to crumble the moment his gaze met yours. You found yourself inexplicably drawn towards him, a magnetic pull you couldn't resist. 

There's just something about him.

There's something about his eyes, particularly striking, that makes it impossible for you to look away. It's as if they hold a depth of understanding and kindness, captivating you, making you feel seen and acknowledged in a way that's disarmingly comforting.

There's something about his smile, too. It's genuine, radiant even, cutting through your defenses as if they were made of paper. His smile seems to speak directly to your soul, warming you from the inside out, and making the corners of your own lips twitch upwards in response.

You can't help but admit, there's something about him—something undeniably compelling that makes you feel like you’re rediscovering something familiar, a connection that's both unexpected and deeply welcome.

You start to shiver, you’re not sure whether it’s because of the weather or how he’s making you feel. Sunghoon, noticing your discomfort, doesn't hesitate. He smoothly takes off his jacket and places it over your shoulders. The sudden warmth from the jacket contrasts sharply with the cool air. 

As Sunghoon's jacket settles around your shoulders, the immediate sensation is one of warmth, the material soft against your skin. The jacket, slightly too large, feels like a hug, a protective barrier against the chill. But it's his scent that truly captivates you — infused with notes of wood and spice, subtle yet distinctly masculine. 

Sunghoon's gaze inadvertently falls on your arm. There, slightly peeking out from under the fabric, is a tattoo that immediately captures his attention. It's a butterfly, intricately designed, its wings seemingly crafted from delicate wisps of ashes, as if it has risen, reborn from the remnants of a past life. The detail is exquisite, symbolising transformation, resilience, and the beauty of emerging stronger from challenges.

"That's... I have the same tattoo," Sunghoon reveals, his voice tinged with disbelief and a newfound depth of connection. 

For a moment, the world seems to pause, the ambient noise of your surroundings fading into the background as you lock eyes. The eye contact is intense, it’s as if the discovery of your matching tattoos has unveiled a deeper layer of understanding, a serendipitous link that neither of you expected but both inherently feel.

The butterfly, for you, symbolizes a journey through personal trials, a testament to the strength it takes to rise anew. For Sunghoon, it represents a parallel path, a reminder of his own resilience and the transformative power of embracing change. 

You feel a surge of heat pooling in your core as he shifts slightly, his movements drawing you in closer. “Are you okay with me showing you?” he asks, voice low and husky, dripping with seduction. It sends a rush of heat straight to your core. You narrow your eyes, confused but nod immediately, your chest tightening and your eyes firing when you realise what he means. It’s a tattoo under his shirt, and the thought of him revealing it to you ignites a fiery desire within you.

Your heart races as you meet his gaze, your eyes smouldering with desire. With a deliberate yet sensual touch, you place your hand on his, stopping him from lifting his shirt. “Do you want to come home with me?” you whisper, surprised at how forward you’re being but this feels right. Your voice is laced with longing and need. You can feel the electricity crackling between you, the air thick with anticipation.

A wicked grin spreads across Sunghoon’s lips as he gazes at you, his eyes darkening with desire. “You can show me then. I have a tattoo on my thigh too that I want to show you,” you add, your words sending a surge of arousal through both of you. The tension between you is palpable, the desire for each other burning hotter with every passing moment.

Ultimately, you made the first move. The walk back home was charged with an energy that couldn't be ignored, an undeniable sexual tension that seemed to pull you both closer with every step. Heated glances were exchanged, each look sending a clear message of the attraction between you.

The moment the front door clicked shut, you seized him, your fingers digging into his shirt as you pulled him into you with an urgency that bordered on desperation. His lips crashed against yours like a tidal wave, igniting a firestorm of passion that consumed you both. It was a kiss fueled by the electric charge that had crackled between you since the moment you laid eyes on each other.

His lips were like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through your veins. He knew exactly how to move his lips against yours, each brush and caress igniting a blaze of longing deep within you. The taste of him, a heady blend of musk and spice, lingered on your lips, driving you to explore every inch of his mouth.

His tongue traced the outline of your lips with a teasing flick, coaxing them to part with an insistence. His tongue delved deep into the recesses of your mouth, seeking out every hidden corner with an eager hunger. Your tongues tangled together with a longing that left you both breathless. With each stroke and caress, the intensity of the kiss grew. 

His arms encircled your waist, pulling you impossibly close until there was no space between you, his body pressing against yours with a delicious urgency. You tangled your fingers in his hair, each touch and pull of his hair igniting a wildfire of need within you.

As you stumbled blindly through the room, knocking over objects in your path, you couldn't bring yourself to care about the mess you left in your wake. You knocked over one of your lego sets, one that took endless hours to build but in that moment, all that mattered was kissing him, the taste of him on your lips, and the overwhelming need that consumed you both.

Sunghoon’s hands are rough and eager as he rips your top off, the fabric tearing with a satisfying sound that echoes in the room. He wastes no time in unzipping your mini skirt, but the tightness proves to be a challenge. You both share a moment of laughter, the sound muffled by your desperate kisses, as he struggles to pull it down your legs. 

Giggles mix with moans as you continue to ravage each other. You dragged him impossibly closer, as if trying to meld your bodies together into one. His arms wrapped around you, his hands roaming over your back and shoulders, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You detach your lips for just a moment, recapturing your breath, then you leap into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. The sensation of his body against yours was electrifying. Your breath mingled with his, hot and heavy against each other’s mouths as you panted and moaned. 

"Who's home?" he breathes out, desperation lacing his words, a different side of him emerging with a heavier, more urgent tone.

"No one. Just us," you reply, your voice a low, throaty moan, thick with desire.

You've heard Chaeyoung talk about her experiences with him, listened to her descriptions of how it felt to fuck him. You knew more about what you were getting yourself into than you let on. She had mentioned how he was softer in the beginning, but that wasn't what you wanted.

"I don't want you to hold back. I don't want you to be soft," you pant out, the words dripping with raw need and insatiable longing. "I want you to fuck me like you mean it," you demand, your voice husky with desire, your eyes blazing with primal hunger.

In response, he lets out a low, primal moan, almost a growl, that resonates deep within you, setting your senses ablaze and igniting a fire in the depths of your core.

He throws you onto the bed, a rush of exhilaration coursing through you as you land with a soft thud. His lips remain locked with yours, refusing to break the connection as he positions himself on top of you.

With a fierce determination, he discards your lace bra and thong, his hands moving with precision and purpose. As you lay exposed before him, you feel the heat in his eyes, a primal desire burning bright as he admires every inch of your bare form. His growl of appreciation sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that can only be quenched by his touch.

Between kisses, he whispers, "You don't know how much I've wanted to see every inch of your skin like this," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. His lips continue their exploration, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. He murmurs, "I've been thinking about you all night long,"

Between kisses, he whispers, "Thinking about how you'd moan my name as I take every inch of you," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. "The feeling of your body underneath mine, how it would arch and tremble," he continues, his breath hot against your skin. "Feeling your tight pussy gripping me.” He confesses, his words sending a surge of heat straight to your core. 

Your whimper, feeling utterly speechless, yet you manage to muster one pleading request. "Take your clothes off," you whine, pouting as the realisation sinks in that he remains fully clothed against your bare skin. 

He responds with a shake of his head, a smile dancing on his lips. "Not now," he murmurs before returning his focus to admiring every inch of your body. "You're so fucking pretty," he purrs, his voice low and husky with desire as he drinks in the sight of you. He groans softly, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your beauty, longing to taste every inch of your skin.

His body presses down against yours with unyielding force, the weight of him grounding you to the mattress. You can feel every contour of his form pressing into you, every muscle tense with desire as he hungrily devours you.

The sensation of him against you is overwhelming, a reminder of his presence as he presses closer, leaving no space between you. Your breath hitches when you feel the unmistakable hardness of his cock rubbing against your thigh, igniting a fire of need within you.

As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses in his wake. Each touch leaves behind a mark of his possession, a hickey to brand you as his own in the heat of the moment.

As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a scorching path of hot, wet kisses in his wake. His kisses are possessive and rough, each touch a declaration of his dominance as he claims you as his own. With each press of his lips against your skin, he leaves behind a red mark of his possession, his lips tugging at your skin with a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, leaving behind teeth marks that throb with a sensation that borders on ecstasy.

With a lingering kiss that sets your senses ablaze, he teases your lips before trailing down your body with determined intent. Each movement is deliberate, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine.

As he reaches your nipples, he captures them between his lips with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His tongue dances across your sensitive peaks, tracing intricate patterns before swirling around them in long, languid strokes. The sensation is electric, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you as he sucks and licks with an insatiable hunger.

"Fuck," you moan, your voice dripping with need as he drives you wild with pleasure. "Sunghoon," you urge, your fingers grasping at his hair as you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensation.

"Harder," you demand, your voice laced with desperation as you beg for more of his intoxicating touch. "I need you to make me cum," you whimper, your body arching towards him as he complies with your wishes, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment and you can’t help but feel his smirk against your skin. 

With every tug of his hair, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through you, intensifying the already overwhelming sensation of his mouth on your nipples. As he trails scorching kisses down your body, every touch sets your skin ablaze with desire, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. His lips linger over every inch of your flesh, igniting a firestorm of need that consumes you from within.

"That's it, good girl, cum for me," he murmurs against your skin, his voice a sultry whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His head rests against your thigh, his gaze locked with yours as he watches you with dazed eyes, the intensity of his stare driving you wild with desire.

"Keep your eyes on me when you cum," he demands, his voice low and deep, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. You whimper in response, your hands trembling as you remove them from covering your face, laying them by your sides as your orgasm approaches rapidly.

As he locks his hands with yours, his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, his fingers coaxing and guiding you towards ecstasy. "Cum all over my tongue, pretty girl, can you do that for me?" he urges, his voice a husky growl that ignites a firestorm of need deep within you.

As the tension coils tighter within you, you feel your release building, a primal urge threatening to consume you entirely. With a tight grip on his hands, you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, your body trembling with anticipation.

The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, your senses overwhelmed as you feel yourself spiraling into ecstasy. Behind closed eyelids, flashes of intense pleasure dance across your vision, colors swirling in a sensation.

He smashes his lips against yours, the kiss suffocating but so hot and heated that it sends a jolt of desire coursing through your veins. As he breaks away from the kiss, his words hang in the air, a response to the desire you had expressed earlier.

You notice a shift in him, a different look in his eyes that sends a thrill of excitement down your spine. There's a hot, intense side to him that you hadn't expected, a side that turns you on more than you could have imagined.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” Sunghoon whispers huskily, his lips trailing languid kisses all over your face. 

His gaze softens with anticipation as he waits for your response, and you find yourself ready to comply. You nod eagerly, but he just tuts, wanting a clear answer.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he says, his voice a mixture of softness and anticipation, contrasting with the demanding tone in his voice. He's really asking you? You hadn't expected this, never experienced this level of openness and desire before.

"I - I..." you begin, stumbling over your words, unsure how to articulate your deepest desires.

"Baby, don't hold back," he tuts gently, his index finger resting at the bottom of your chin, keeping your gaze locked on his.

"Don't laugh at me," you pout. 

"Why would I do that?" His voice deepens, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he reassures you with his words.

 "I - I want you to be rough," you finally admit, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want you to slap me, choke me, spit on me. I don't want you to be gentle. I want to see if you live up to the hype of being this 'sex god' that everyone claims you are. I - just do whatever you want to me. Use me and control me."

Your confession leaves you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you await his reaction. You gasp in shock at your own words, your eyes widening in disbelief at the boldness of your desires. But as you look into his eyes, you see nothing but desire and hunger reflected back at you, fueling the fire of anticipation burning between you.

His movements are confident and commanding as he grips your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. You dare not look away, captivated by the raw desire burning in his eyes. With his other hand, he traces the curves of your body, his touch rough and demanding, igniting a fire within you.

As his fingers trail lower, teasing your already sensitive peaks, you gasp at the electrifying sensation. A low growl escapes his lips as he feels how wet you already are, his finger slipping effortlessly into your eager heat.

“Fuck, you’re already dripping?” he murmurs, his voice laced with desire and disbelief. “I haven’t even touched you yet, needy slut.” 

You moan as his fingers slide effortlessly into your eager heat, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body. He doesn't hold back, pushing deeper with each thrust, stretching you to accommodate his every movement. The rough pads of his fingertips brush against your sensitive walls, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, craving more of his intoxicating touch.

He adds another finger, and then another, the stretch deliciously overwhelming as he fills you completely. You can feel the pressure building, the tight coil of pleasure threatening to unravel at any moment. His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent and relentless as he drives you closer to the edge. You can't help but cry out, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

With each stroke, he pushes you closer and closer to the brink, until finally, you shatter into a million pieces, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as you succumb to the overwhelming pleasure he's given you.

"I want you to eat me out –" you manage to breathe out, your voice trembling with anticipation and need.

With a hungry glint in his eyes, Sunghoon positions you just how he likes, spreading your legs wide as he settles between them. His touch is demanding, yet precise, as he dips his fingers between your slick folds, reveling in the wetness that greets him. Already, he's moved his head down, and you eagerly cage it between your thighs, your breath hitching in anticipation.

Throwing your legs around his shoulders, you pull him closer, urging him to delve deeper. And delve he does, his tongue tracing intricate patterns along your throbbing heat, each stroke sending jolts of electricity coursing through your body. There's no gentleness in his approach; he's forceful, relentless, determined to devour you whole.

He attacks your clit with fervor, his tongue flicking against it with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place as he intensifies his assault, his head bobbing between your legs as he drives you to the brink of ecstasy.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he growls against your sensitive flesh, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. He's not content until you're a writhing mess beneath him, lost in a sea of pleasure that only he can provide.

Your moans fill the room, broken and desperate, as he takes you higher and higher, pushing you closer to the brink with each skilled stroke of his tongue. But just as you close your eyes to savour the moment, his hand comes down hard on your pussy, giving you a sharp slap. "I told you to look at me when you cum," he growls, his voice a commanding presence that leaves you breathless. You let out a moan, not expecting to be so turned on by this. It sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through you. 

With a small nod, you oblige, opening your eyes to meet his gaze, letting him see the raw, unbridled desire written across your face. You're completely at his mercy, your body aching with need as he continues to devour you with his mouth.

He sucks dry every last drop of your pleasure, his praises ringing in your ears like a symphony of desire. 

He presses his lips against your throbbing core with a mouthy and wet kiss. "Good girl," he murmurs, his words a soothing balm to your fractured senses. "Such a pretty cunt," he adds, his voice a husky growl as he admires your pussy. 

And as you come down from the dizzying heights of ecstasy, you're left panting and trembling in his arms, completely spent and utterly satisfied. 

As Sunghoon pulls back from devouring you, his eyes blaze with unquenchable desire, hungry for more of you. Your body trembles with anticipation, aching for his touch as you meet his intense gaze, silently begging for him to fulfill your craving.

“Please, Sunghoon,” you plead, your voice thick with need, your fingers grasping at the sheets beneath you. “I need you inside me.” His grin is wicked, a mirror of your own desire, as he savors your desperation, relishing the power he holds over you.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” he purrs, the husky timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You nod fervently, a smile tugging at your lips as your hands reach for his top, swiftly pulling it over his head. Your fingers trace over his bare chest and abs, the sight of his toned physique eliciting a gasp of admiration. His chest and abs glisten in the dim light, sculpted to perfection, each muscle defined with precision. 

Your breath hitches with each passing moment, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with every heartbeat. Fingers trembling, you reach for his belt, your urgency evident in the way you fumble with the buckle. With a swift motion, he pulls it down himself, his boxers following suit, revealing his hardened length. You gasp at the sight, your eyes fixated on his cock as you reach out instinctively. He groans in response, his voice strained with desire as he warns, "Don't, baby. I won't last."

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your parted thighs, his throbbing cock poised at your entrance, close yet agonisingly out of reach. You can see it in his eyes, and the way he's looking at you, he's going to go soft despite his earlier promises of roughness. 

As you express your disappointment with a soft whine, he silences you with a gentle shake of his head. "Trust me, baby, I'm big," he whispers in a husky tone, his words sending a thrill through you.

"I don't care. I still want you to be rough with me," you assert, your desire palpable in your voice.

He shakes his head once more. “You don't want me to be too rough for the first time," he explains softly, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Maybe next time," he adds with a teasing wink, prolonging the anticipation as he plays with your desires.

As his lips crash against yours in a breathy kiss, a symphony of moans escapes from the depths of your souls, mingling in the air like sweet melodies of desire. Each touch of his lips against yours ignites a fire within, sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin. With every exhale, you both moan into each other’s mouth. 

He backs away from your lips too early for your liking. With a devious glint in his eyes, he teases, testing your patience and leaving you craving more. 

You grow increasingly impatient when he doesn’t move, he smirks, he’s teasing you, testing your patience. Your whimpers become more urgent with each passing moment. “Please,” you beg for any type of movement 

But he continues to toy with you, his smirk widening as he revels in your desperation. “I don’t know, should I let you have my cock?” he taunts, his voice dripping with desire and dominance. 

You deadpan. “Your cock is literally inside of my vagina right now—”

“Do you really think you deserve it?” he says, his voice low and dark, sending shivers down your spine.

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you match his tone. You find yourself enjoying the charged atmosphere, how comfortable it feels with him. You find yourself holding back a grin. "I bet you're not even that big," you retort. 

“Oh?” he says, a smirk playing on his lips as he closes the distance between you, his gaze burning with intensity.

As he thrusts into you with relentless force, you feel an overwhelming mix of pleasure and discomfort wash over you. His cock is so thick, stretching you to your limits with each deep penetration. You whimper, struggling to adjust to his size, but he shows no mercy, drilling into you with undefeated determination.

His movements are harsh and unforgiving, his hips driving forward with brutal force as he claims you as his own. Each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, leaving you trembling with need. You moan uncontrollably, unable to form coherent words as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“You’re so big,” you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, your words breathy with a hint of disbelief in your voice as you feel him filling you completely. But his response is cold and mocking.

“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. “Now stay there and fucking take it.”

As his hips collide with yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a rhythmic symphony of lust and desire. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, your moans echoing off the walls as you surrender to the raw intensity of his touch.

He fucks you with a primal urgency, his movements rough and demanding as he claims you as his own. His cock drives into you with relentless force, stretching you to your limits and filling you completely with each deep penetration. You can feel every inch of him inside you, his hardness pressing against your most sensitive spots and sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you.

His cock pounds into you relentlessly, driving deep into your slick heat with each forceful thrust. You can feel every inch of him stretching you, pushing you to your limits as he claims you as his own. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and pain that only serves to fuel your desire for more. “More,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper.

"Beg for it, beg for my cock deeper inside you," he commands, his voice dripping with desire and dominance. As his words hang in the air, you feel his hands gripping your thighs, pulling your legs around his waist. With a swift movement, he positions you exactly how he wants, allowing for deeper penetration and intensifying the sensations between you. This change in angle sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, pushing you both to new heights of ecstasy. With each thrust, he buries himself deeper inside you, his cock filling you completely as you cling to him, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.

"Harder, please," you plead, your voice trembling with need as you yearn for him to give you everything he's got. Your body craves the intensity of his touch, the roughness of his thrusts driving you wild with desire. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, desperate for him to take you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

He obliges, increasing the tempo of his thrusts, his movements becoming more urgent as he drives himself deeper into you. The sound of your moans fills the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin, loud moans and your headboard creaking. 

With each merciless thrust, your body succumbs to the relentless assault, every movement driving you closer to the brink of ecstasy. The raw power of his domination leaves you breathless, your senses consumed by the overwhelming pleasure he bestows upon you. You teeter on the edge of climax, every nerve ending ablaze with desire, craving release like never before.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan desperately, your plea echoing through the room, but instead of granting you release, he chuckles darkly, a sinister sound that sends a shiver down your spine. 

With a cruel twist, he wrenches his cock back, the abrupt movement sending a jolt of pain coursing through you. His gaze is unforgiving, a menacing glint in his eyes as he stares down at you, relishing in your torment. Your whimpers of protest only fuel his cruel pleasure, a smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your frustration.

“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he taunts, his voice dripping with contempt as he watches you squirm beneath him. “Do you think you deserve to cum?” His words are like daggers, each one laced with venom as he taunts and belittles you, his dominance asserting itself with every syllable. “Only good girls deserve to cum.” 

Sunghoon’s anger is palpable as he flips you onto your back, the force of his movement taking you by surprise. Your heart races with anticipation, knowing that his roughness is a sign of his frustration. You can feel the tension in the air as he shifts you onto all fours, his movements primal and commanding.

“Spread your legs wider,” he demands, his tone brooking no argument. “That’s it,” he murmurs. 

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your legs, his grip on your hips firm and unyielding. “Hold onto the headboard,” he orders, his voice commanding obedience. You obey without hesitation, your nails digging into the wood as he takes you from behind.

Each forceful thrust elicits a gasp from your lips, the intensity of his desire overwhelming your senses. “You like it rough, don’t you?” he taunts, his words punctuated by the sound of skin slapping against skin. “Tell me how much you want it,” he demands, his voice rough with desire.

In the heat of the moment, his anger fuels his actions, his movements rough and unyielding. As he fills you completely, you’re overwhelmed by the sensation, your senses flooded with pleasure. Gasping for air, you’re left breathless, the intensity of his desire consuming you.

Each powerful thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, driving you further toward the edge of ecstasy. Your ass meets his thighs with each forceful movement, the impact sending a shiver down your spine. He takes advantage of your vulnerability, delivering sharp slaps to your pussy, each one igniting a fire within you.

With a forceful grip, he fists your hair back, tilting your head upwards to expose your neck to him. He leaves bruises and hickies along your skin, marking you as his own. His grip tightens, asserting his control over you, his hands roaming possessively over your body.

With a firm grip on your hips, he dictates the rhythm of his thrusts, each one a testament to his dominance. Your arms are held in place, you're left feeling exposed, entirely at his mercy. “I could fuck you like this forever,” he muses in a dark whisper 

As he relentlessly pounds into you, his cock stretching you beyond your limits, tears well up in your eyes. The sheer force of his thrusts drives you to the brink of madness, each movement sending waves of both pleasure and pain rippling through your body.

“You really thought you could handle me?” he taunts, his voice dripping with disdain as he continues to ravage you without mercy. His words cut through you like a knife, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath his intense gaze.

Despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through you, there’s a perverse sense of pleasure that accompanies the pain and humiliation. You find yourself surrendering to him completely, lost in the primal rhythm of his thrusts and the raw power he exudes.

Your cries mingle with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the room filled with the symphony of your shared desire. “That’s it,” he growls, his voice low and menacing. “Take it all”

Each thrust drives you closer to the edge of sanity, your body trembling with the exquisite torment of his rough ministrations. The pleasure-pain dichotomy consumes you entirely, leaving you lost in a haze of ecstasy and agony.

You feel completely overwhelmed by him, your senses drowning in the intoxicating cocktail of desire and desperation. The need to please him at any cost drives you to new heights of submission, your every thought and action dedicated to his satisfaction.

His reaction is one of twisted satisfaction, his grin a sinister reflection of the dominance he wields over you. He takes perverse pleasure in your tears, viewing them as a testament to his power and control. With each sob that escapes your lips, he revels in the knowledge that he holds your very soul in his hands, a willing captive to his every whim.

“I-I’m so close,” you gasp out between ragged breaths, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, let me cum.”

His response is immediate and commanding. His hands wrap around your throat with a firm grip. As he tightens his hold, you feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, intensifying the sensations overwhelming your body. At the same time, his other hand delivers a sharp, stinging spank to your cheek, sending a jolt of mixed pleasure and pain radiating through you.

“You don’t get to cum until I say so,” he growls, his voice low and authoritative. “Remember that.”

"Please," you beg, your voice strained with desperation. "I need you to cum inside me. Fill me up." 

His resolve breaks at your plea, his control slipping as he gives in. Sunghoon ravages you mercilessly, his own release momentarily forgotten as he focuses solely on driving you to the brink of pleasure. His hands roam over your trembling body, his touch igniting sparks of electricity that dance along your skin. He holds you close and with one final thrust, he sends you hurtling over the edge into blissful oblivion.

As the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Your body trembles with anticipation, every nerve ending alive with sensation. With a primal cry, you shatter into a million pieces, your orgasm consuming you completely. Waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you gasping for air as you ride the euphoric high.

Shortly after, with a primal roar, he releases inside you, his hot seed flooding your depths as you both reach the peak of ecstasy together. Waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you breathless and sated in each other's embrace.

He removes his cock from you, a mixture of wetness and cum slipping out in its wake. With a firm grip, he manhandles you, turning you around to face him. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a complete contrast to the roughness with which he just fucked you. Using his thumb, he wipes away the mascara trailing down your face, his expression softening as he takes in your fucked-out appearance. 

Your eyelids droop with exhaustion, but before you can succumb to sleep, he speaks with a gentleness that catches you off guard. "Don't sleep just yet. I need to get you cleaned up." The difference in his tone leaves you feeling dizzy and confused, his soft eyes meeting yours.

Later on, you’re all cleaned up, thanks to him running a bath for you and cleaning your body with your favorite scent of soap. There were lingering kisses and massages, and he even sat in the bath with you, sharing in the intimacy of the moment. Now, you’re in your pajamas, feeling cozy and comfortable, then he asks if he can stay. It’s late so you nod in agreement. That was the only reason. He settles onto your bed, his eyes closing with a contented smile.

But suddenly, you get up, breaking the serene atmosphere. “I need to clean the apartment,” you declare, and he laughs at first, thinking it’s a joke. However, his expression turns serious when he realises you’re not joking.

‘Did the four positions and the five times I made you cum not make you sleepy?’ He questions from behind you. 

You turn to him, shaking your head. “It was not four —”

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks as he lists them off. “Missionary, from the back and then against the wall in the shower. You also rode my cock in the shower.’ His words send a shiver down your spine and you gulp. Where did this sex drive come from? 

“I just counted, and I made you cum six times,” he adds with a satisfied grin.

You roll your eyes. “Do you count the amount of times you’ve made a girl cum for every girl you sleep with?” 

He winks, his voice bringing chills to your spine. “Only you.” 

As he leans down beside you, your heart skips a beat. “What do you need help with?” he asks, his gaze locking deeply with yours. Despite the tired lines etched on his face, he alludes such an effortless attractiveness. He was incredibly magnetising and radiant, basking in a sex afterglow.

Your voice is soft and gentle as you speak. “We dropped so many lego sets… I could do with some help putting them back together.”

He smiles warmly and nods, his tired eyes twinkling with affection. "Let's do it."

As you both delve into the intricate world of Lego, your fingers deftly reassembling the scattered pieces, you find yourself opening up to Sunghoon in a way you never have before.

“You know… no one ever wants to build them with me, this is quite surprising,” you admit, your eyes fixated on the task at hand.

He hums in response, his attention fully captured by your words. “It’s not common for people in their 20s to be into Lego,” he remarks, his tone tinged with curiosity.

As you delve into the details of your Lego collection, Sunghoon’s genuine interest shines through. He listens intently as you recount the origins of each set, marking the first time you’ve shared this hobby so thoroughly. “I got this one from a fair I went to when I was 12, my uncle got me this one, Nayoung got me this one,” you explain, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips.

His curiosity peaks as he spots a rare Lego set on your shelf, one he surprisingly recognizes by name. “How the fuck did you get that one?” he asks, pointing directly at it.

You respond with a deadpan expression, “I camped out at 3am in the winter to get it.” The absurdity of the situation hits both of you at once, sparking uncontrollable laughter.

Sunghoon, catching his breath, manages to say, “Tough,” with a mix of admiration and amusement in his voice.

“Did anyone get you this one?” Sunghoon points at a very rare and expensive set, his eyes glowing with awe. It’s one that was already made, one of your prized possessions, you were glad it was still in tact. 

You giggle, a smile lighting up your face as you give him the go-ahead to touch it. You don’t let anyone touch your Lego collection. Especially that set. 

An immediate smile lights up your face, and you nod. “Sunwoo got me that one,” you say, relishing the memory. It was one of his random gifts, one that cheered you up when you needed it most.

“Kim Sunwoo? You’re friends with him?” Sunghoon’s curiosity peaks, his surprise at the mention of Sunwoo not shocking you.

You nod. “My best friend.”

“You seem really different from each other,” Sunghoon observes.

“We are,” you agree. It’s a common observation, one that you’ve heard countless times before. Sunwoo spends his time getting high and indulging in casual sex; he’s the ultimate fuck boy. But despite his wild ways, he’s also your best friend. He’s intense, but you need him in your life. “People say opposites attract, we balance each other out well. Plus, I’ve known him since we were kids.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t spend your time getting laid because the things you were doing when we were fucking… it takes experience to —”

You interject with a soft whisper, “I’m not a virgin.” You anticipate a reaction from him, but he surprises you by simply smiling and nodding in acknowledgment.

“It was clear when I was fucking you,” he explains calmly, “I could tell it wasn’t your first time.”

Your laughter fills the room, accompanied by a blush coloring your cheeks. “It’s just that there’s a ridiculous rumor that goes around that I’m some Christian girl who’s waiting until marriage and that I’m untouched when it’s not true.”

Sunghoon’s curiosity persists. “Why did that rumor start?”

Shrugging slightly, you respond, “I don’t even know… I guess people just see me as a quiet and shy person and automatically equate that to me being innocent and clueless. I’m very private; I keep my sexual life on the low. I don’t gossip about it or talk about things like that openly, even to my closest friends. They’re my best friends, so they know I’ve had sex before, but they still join in on the joke that I’m a Christian virgin just to wind me up.”

As Sunghoon hums thoughtfully, you sense his presence beside you, his silence speaking volumes. Despite not responding verbally, you know he's listening intently, absorbing every word you say. His attentive demeanour reassures you, reminding you that he's there, fully engaged in the conversation. It's a rare quality that you appreciate, his ability to be present and attentive without the need for constant verbal affirmation. 

“Why did you start playing bass?” Sunghoon’s question catches you off guard, his gaze lingering on the eccentric blue bass in the corner of the room in a way that makes your head spin.

You can’t help but giggle at his curiosity. “I was kinda forced to, actually.”

“Really?” His surprise is evident in his voice.

You nod, recalling how Sunwoo had roped you into joining his band. “It’s Sunwoo’s band, and he needed a bass player. He decided it was going to be me, so he taught me how to play. He’s very serious about his band, you know. His major is music, so it makes sense. Sunwoo’s good at everything. He can sing, rap, dance, and play any instrument. I’m the bassist in the band, but he’s better than me at playing it.”

Sunghoon shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t say that. You’re such a natural at playing bass.”

You offer him a grateful smile in return, touched by his compliment.

“I didn’t see Sunwoo at the gig, though,” Sunghoon observes, his gaze lingering on your face.

“Or Winter,” you add, a burst of laughter escaping your lips. Sunghoon’s eyebrow quirks up in confusion.

“She’s our main vocalist and plays piano. She wasn’t there either because Sunwoo was balls deep inside of her,” you explain, amusement evident in your voice. “She’s our fifth main vocalist, and we’re probably gonna need to replace her soon. Sunwoo keeps fucking the main vocalists in the band, and they always leave because it makes everything awkward and tense.”

Sunghoon shakes his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Sounds like him.”

You nod in agreement, a knowing look passing between you. “He can’t keep his fucking cock in his pants. Always has to go fuck the woman in the group.”

Sunghoon chuckles in response, the sound warm and genuine.

You and Sunghoon have been talking for what felt like hours.

The ease of conversation made it feel like you've known each other for much longer. You didn’t expect to have so much in common with him, you didn’t expect the conversation to flow as smoothly as it did, you also didn’t expect for him to actually stay, especially after you had finished having sex.

His confidence and appeal enhance the atmosphere. Sunghoon's casual demeanor sets the tone the moment he begins to speak, his confidence is almost dripping from him, as if it's part of the very air around him. He's got this cool, laid-back vibe that's utterly captivating, standing here in your apartment as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Sunghoon's gaze holds yours, an unspoken intensity lingering in the way he looks at you. There's an undeniable attractiveness in his focus, in the deliberate way he gives you his undivided attention. Each time he listens, it's with an intensity that makes the moment stretch, filling it with an undeniable tension. 

His eyes, expressive and deep, seem to capture and reflect every flicker of emotion, making the connection between you feel both electrifying and profoundly intimate. His smile, when it breaks, is like a slow dawn, gradually illuminating his features and warming the space between you.

You bond about little things but in retrospect they were big, they were such specific and unique things, things that were so special to you.

You give him a tour of your apartment, showing him around with a sense of pride. Each room holds a piece of you, and you’re eager to share it with him. As you lead him through the space, you point out your prized possessions, sharing the stories behind each one.

“This is where I keep my vinyl collection,” you explain, gesturing towards a shelf filled with records. He pauses, running his fingers over the sleek covers with a sense of appreciation.

“Your taste is… amazing.” 

He believes in those words even more when you show him your book collection, you're surprised to find that Sunghoon has read them all. You point out one of the most important books to you, ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’ and as you're about to recite your favourite line, he says it at the same time as you. “One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs, or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.” you both say in unison, the words echoing in the room.

The eye contact that follows is strong and intense, making you feel weak in the knees. You want to look away, but you can't tear your gaze from his. He's captivating, and in that moment, you feel a magnetic connection that transcends words.

You sit surrounded by your closest friends in a secluded corner of the student lounge. You and Eunji are working on university assignments and projects, both studying musical arts. The steady hum of youthful chatter and the clatter of laptop keys fail to distract you. You’re here but you’re not really here. The noise around you fades into the background as thoughts of Sunghoon consume your mind every time you close your eyes. 

Your mind relentlessly replays the sensation of Sunghoon's lips against yours, the way his hands explored every inch of your body, and the intensity in his eyes as he gazed at you. The memory of his touch lingers, leaving you dazed and confused. And then there's his cock, thick and pulsating with desire, the mere thought of it sending a shiver down your spine. It's as if his presence has etched itself into every corner of your mind, dominating your thoughts and leaving little room for anything else.

You try to push the memories aside, to focus on the task at hand, but it's no use. His image, his touch, his presence, his lips—it all feels so real. To make matters worse, Eric and Nayoung keep probing and probing. 

“Y/N!!!!!” Nayoung interrupts your thoughts. “Are you ready to tell us what happened last night?” she asks with a mischievous wink, raising her eyebrows suggestively, and you immediately understand the implication. You discretely shush her, promising to tell her later, not wanting to draw attention, but nothing ever slips past Eric’s sharp eyes.

As you’re grappling with the weight of your previous conversation, Sunwoo walks in, offering what you hope might be a timely distraction.

The moment he enters, you shoot him an accusatory glare. “You left me and Eric stranded yesterday! We had to find two people willing to perform with us last minute,” you scold, your frustration evident in your tone.

Sunwoo shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I was balls deep inside of Ryujin,” he says casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You turn to him, tutting and shaking your head in disbelief. But deep down, you’re not truly surprised. “Really? Again?” you sigh, knowing all too well the consequences of Sunwoo’s actions.

Ryujin, the lead vocalist and keyboard player in your band, was now the latest victim of Sunwoo’s need of fucking the lead vocalists. It has become a recurring theme in your band’s history. Sunwoo's habit of sleeping with the lead vocalists inevitably leads to their departure from the band, as they realize he's only interested in a fling without any emotional attachment.

There had been four lead vocalists before Ryujin who had left for the same reason, and now she was the fifth. It was a cycle that seemed impossible to break, it was annoying but it was pretty funny. 

“Pay up,” Eric demands, holding out the money jar to Sunwoo. With a roll of his eyes, Sunwoo begrudgingly adds a £5 note to the jar, another contribution to Eric’s growing collection of Sunwoo’s indiscretions.

Sunwoo lets out a deep sigh, his head tilting back against the cool wall with a suggestive noise that’s entirely inappropriate for 8 AM on a Monday morning. He’s always horny, he was missing Ryujin, missing her pussy. 

The brief distraction provided by Sunwoo’s antics quickly fades as Eric, always persistent, picks up the previous line of questioning. He laughs loudly, turning to face you with an expression that feels a bit too much like an interrogation. You brace yourself, knowing exactly where he’s heading with this.

Eric lets out a loud laugh, turning to you like it was an an interrogation, letting you know he wouldn’t drop it you instantly know what he’s going to say. “Where did you run off to after the gig?” he questions, but before you can respond, he answers for you. “I did see a certain Park Sunghoon checking you out.”

Silence fills the room, and then Nayoung screams in excitement. “They fucked!!! They had sex!!! Look, it’s all over Y/N’s face, she’s practically basking in the afterglow of Park Sunghoon’s massive cock.”

The room erupts into laughter, and you can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment as everyone turns their attention to you, leaving you wishing for the floor to swallow you whole.

You groan and sit there silently, wearing a defeated expression as Eric and Nayoung exchange comments and jokes, teasing you mercilessly. Sunwoo, however, remains silent, his expression unreadable as always, leaving you feeling perplexed by his demeanour.

He turns to face you subtly, and all he says is, “Really?” before breaking into a smirk.

You shoot Sunwoo a deadpan look. “You’re not allowed to judge me. You keep fucking our lead vocalists out of the group!”

As Sunwoo is about to defend himself, Eric’s playful smirk and words cut him off. “Hey, missed a spot?” he quips, at first you narrow your eyes in confusion but then you gulp when you realise he’s talking about the concealer on your neck. A suggestive grin plays on his lips. “Need some help covering up all those hickeys Sunghoon left all over your neck? I’m sure Nayoung has some concealer in her bag.” 

You shoot him a warning look, shushing him with a nervous glance around the room. “Keep it down, Eric,” you hiss, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “People could be listening.”

Nayoung, always one to push boundaries, takes it a step further. “Hey, do you need to order a new bed frame?” she asks innocently, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I’m sure yours has broken after Sunghoon fucked you in it all night long.” 

Eric's teasing hits a nerve, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. "Seriously though, I heard that you were moaning like a bitch in heat," he says with a sly grin, his words laced with mischief.

You roll your eyes, trying to brush off his remarks. "You weren't even there," you retort, hoping to shut down the conversation before it escalates any further.

But Eric wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, did you want me to be there? To watch?" he asks, his tone playful yet suggestive. "I didn't have you down as a kinky bitch, Y/N," he adds with a smirk, clearly enjoying getting under your skin.

You huff in frustration. "Oh? You don't want me to watch but to join in? I'm down! And so is Sunghoon, I heard he lost his virginity to not one girl but two girls... at the same time," Eric continues, his grin widening at the shocked expression on your face.

“That’s not true, he lost it to Arin. But he’s been in plenty of threesomes and orgies too,” Nayoung drops casually, her knowledge of everyone’s secrets almost uncanny. She even knew about your first time, despite your best efforts to keep it private.

“Arin?” you respond, taken aback. “Isn’t she the one from our classes with that angelic voice?” 

“Yeah she studied music and she’s also a bitch,” Nayoung doesn’t hold back.

You huff. “Really? She looks quite sweet.” 

“She’s got talent, sure, but she’s like a snake. All sweet to your face then she strikes when you’re not looking,” she continues with a grimace.

“You’re just pissed because after you fucked Sunghoon, he ghosted you,” Sunwoo chimes in, unable to resist teasing her.

“Why did he ghost you?” you ask, intrigued by the drama unfolding.

“Because he went back to fucking Arin,” Nayoung says, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

You scratch your neck, ignoring this sinking feeling. “Did they ever actually date?”

Nayoung shrugs. “I don’t think they dated, just fucked. But she’s been the one constant in his bed. Seems like they’re casual fuck buddies, on and off whenever it suits them.”

Sunwoo’s expression catches you off guard, his eyebrows arching in genuine confusion. “Y/N? Are you jealous?” he probes, clearly trying to understand your reaction.

Quick to dispel any misconceptions, you respond firmly, making sure there’s no room for doubt. “No! We only had sex, nothing else. There’s nothing to be jealous over,” you assert, hoping to shut down any further speculation about your feelings towards the situation.

However you can’t supress the swirls of discomfort and confusion inside you, unsettling you more than you'd like to admit. Arin’s history with Sunghoon, something intense and vaguely defined, gnaws at your peace, leaving you to wonder about the legitimacy of your feelings. Was it valid for you to even be jealous? 

But as these thoughts churn, the lounge's doors swing open, and a group of engineering students enters, breaking your inward spiral. Sunghoon is among them, still dressed in his work attire—an apron dusted from a practical session, and a tool belt loosely hanging around his hips. The engineering gear marks a stark contrast against the casual styles of your graphic tee and jeans, emphasising the divide between your worlds.

Your eyes instinctively find him as he walks in. He's laughing with his friends, completely at ease, seemingly untouched by the intense sex you had just hours ago. He looks so calm, so put together. It's as if he's able to effortlessly recompose himself, while you're still reeling from the memories and his touch. It’s as if the night you shared was just another ordinary event for him. 

As Sunghoon adjusts his apron, a simple yet deliberate action, your gaze inevitably travels to his hands—those same hands that had so expertly explored the depths of you just hours earlier. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, vividly conjures memories of how those very fingers had traced your curves and navigated your folds in a way that left you breathless. The memory of his touch, precise and bold, sends a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks, your body involuntarily responding to the mere thought of his proximity.

He casually stretches his fingers, the joints clicking softly in the quiet of the lounge. The sound, distinct and resonant, wasn't loud enough to be heard by others, but your focus is entirely on him. To you, the soft click echoes significantly, a subtle reminder of the way those fingers had moved with such deliberate intent, exploring and memorising every contour of your body with a precision that left an indelible mark on your senses.

Your gaze can't help but follow the motion of his hands up to his forearms. His sleeves are pushed up slightly, revealing forearms marked by prominent veins that stand out against his skin, tracing paths of strength and vitality. These are the arms that had held you with a confident, yet gentle touch, their power barely restrained as they explored you. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, each movement of his hands, the visible veins pulsing slightly with each flex, brings back a rush of sensations, the memory of his touch—both precise and bold—sending a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks.

Caught in this reverie, you almost miss the moment he looks up. His eyes meet yours, and for a suspended heartbeat, the world around you blurs into insignificance. His gaze holds a depth that reflects a shared history, mirroring the intensity of your intimate encounter. It's a knowing look, laden with an unspoken promise, silently communicating that he recalls every detail just as vividly as you do. 

Eric’s voice breaks through, calling out, “Hey, Sunghoon!” He motions for him to come over. 

As Sunghoon approaches, the simple tee visible beneath his partly open engineering apron catches your eye again. The initials ‘P.S.’ are neatly embroidered on the pocket, adding a personal touch to his otherwise utilitarian outfit. With each step he takes, it seems as though the room rearranges itself to accommodate the energy he brings. Despite there being an empty seat next to Nayoung, Sunghoon bypasses it, choosing instead the space directly beside you. It's a deliberate choice, requiring him to traverse around the table from where he started, signalling his intent to be as close to you as possible.

As he settles down, his body exudes a warmth you can feel even before he fully sits. The proximity is almost too much to handle, his scent—a rich blend of brown sugar, cinnamon, and a hint of citrus, underlined by a masculine note of metal and solder from his engineering lab—fills your senses, making your breath hitch. The unique aroma is both comforting and intoxicating, distinctly Sunghoon, and unmistakably alluring. The scent takes you back to mere hours before when you both had fucked. 

His knee brushes against yours as he adjusts in his seat, the simple touch sending a jolt through your body. You catch your breath, your attempt to focus on anything else utterly futile. Sunghoon is here, right next to you, and every fibre of your being is acutely aware of his nearness.

Beside you, Eunji leans closer, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "You okay?" she whispers, noticing the sudden pallor that has overtaken your features. You manage a nod and offer her a shaky smile, trying to mask the turmoil inside.

As Eric yaps on and on, you find his voice a magnetic force. Just focus on Eric, you repeat internally, seeking any lifeline to distract you. But Sunghoon’s presence is a force impossible to ignore. He leans closer, his body shifting just enough so his knee presses gently against yours under the table. 

The subtle contact sends a shiver up your spine as he leans in, his voice a low whisper meant only for your ears, "I didn’t know you were interested in Eric." His words, edged with a teasing undertone, jolt you. The closeness of his mouth to your ear, the warmth of his breath, it all muddles your thoughts

"I… um, he’s fascinating," you reply, your voice a hushed stutter, drowned out almost entirely by the pounding of your heart.

Sunghoon pulls back slightly, his eyes holding yours in a steady, penetrating gaze that seems to delve deeper than the casual jest warrants. He nods, a slow, thoughtful movement, but the intensity doesn't wane. His eyes linger, searching, as if trying to read the unspoken feelings you're struggling so hard to mask.

“Are your legs okay?” Sunghoon asks, his tone serious but with an unmistakable undertone of teasing—a playful provocation he seems unable to resist.

You swallow hard, the sudden dryness in your throat making it difficult to speak. With a slight tremor in your voice, you whisper back, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” His smile is soft yet knowing, as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a breathy whisper. Then, almost as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, his hand finds its way to your thigh. His fingers gently press into your skin, starting a slow, deliberate massage that sends waves of both comfort and electric tension through your body.

His eyes lock with yours, holding the gaze intensely. The world around you seems to blur into the background, all sounds fading away except for the intimate space he’s created. As his hand moves subtly, the connection deepens, communicated through that steady, penetrating eye contact that says more than words ever could.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

You offer a shy and closed-off response, "Nothing much." But the truth is, your mind is racing with thoughts of him-his touch, his scent, the way he made you feel.

"What about you?" you ask, trying to gauge his thoughts.

With a devilish grin, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "I can't stop thinking about the way your pussy clenched around my cock when you came. I also can’t get over how good your ass looked bouncing on my cock.” He whispers, his voice dripping with desire.

As Sunghoon's words swirl around you, suffocating you with their intensity, you gasp for air, feeling the tight grip of panic clenching your chest. Your fingers tighten around the coffee cup, the ceramic surface offering a fleeting sense of stability amidst the whirlwind of sensations. Each breath feels strained, as if the air itself has thickened, making it difficult to draw in the oxygen your body craves. Despite the burning embarrassment prickling at your skin, you cling to the mundane act of sipping your drink, a feeble attempt to anchor yourself. 

Sunwoo speaks up from beside you, thankfully shifting the atmosphere with a different topic. "Guys... we need to host auditions for a new lead singer," he announces, clicking off his phone before flicking his eyes between you and Eric, signalling the urgency of the situation.

Nayoung can't help but burst into laughter at Sunwoo's statement. "He's fucked Ryujin so hard she found her way out of the band," she jokes, her comment cutting through the seriousness with her typical irreverence. Her laughter echoes around the group, lightening the mood and drawing a collective chuckle that momentarily dispels the heaviness in your heart. 

You’re all in the campus’ performance hall, Spotlights illuminate the stage, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors and plush red curtains. You, Sunwoo, and Eric are perched in the judges’ area, positioned strategically to catch every nuance of the performances.

Suddenly, Nayoung rushes into the room with a tray of four steaming coffees, her hurried steps echoing against the polished floor. “I’m sorry I’m late! I’m here now, let’s start!” She shouts as a strand of hair escapes from her bun, framing her delicate features in a soft halo of morning light. Her beauty is striking, even in the early hours of the day. There's an effortless elegance to her appearance, from the way her eyes sparkle with warmth to the curve of her lips as she smiles apologetically. 

Nayoung wasn’t a member of the band, and she never had been nor probably ever would be, but she relished the opportunity to judge people, which explained why she always ended up as a judge alongside you, Sunwoo, and Eric.

“Guys, the auditions are starting,” Eric says.

The first person walks in, accompanied by two others. “I thought we were auditioning for a female lead vocalist?” you mumble, confused. But Eric just claps his hands together, excited for what’s to come.

“We’re the Foreign Swaggers,” one of the guys introduces the group name.

“Guys, you know we’re looking for one female lead vocalist, and you guys—” You’re interrupted by Mark Lee, known for being one of the best students in the music department. You know him, you’ve seen him at some parties, he’s friends with Donghyuc who was friends with Sunwoo. Mark was notorious for his talent and popularity among the girls.

“Alright, guys, what’s up,” Mark starts, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun adds, trying to sound confident.

“What’s up,” Johnny chimes in, his tone more relaxed.

“We’re the, uh— we’re the, uh— Foreign Swaggers,” Mark stutters, trying to maintain composure.

“So, yeah, uh— Johnny’s gonna rap,” Johnny declares.

“I lived in America for four years! That’s why I’m here, man!” Jaehyun boasts.

The audition starts with a beatbox, followed by some mediocre rapping at best. They’re awkward, but there’s a certain charisma about them.

However, Sunwoo cuts them off as soon as their performance ends, not even bothering to judge them. “That’s it, you can go now.” he says hastily, signalling for them to leave.

You were about eight people in, and no one had impressed you yet. No one seemed to fit the image of your band, and you were starting to lose hope. Then, Hwang Yeji walked in, and your eyes lit up, though not as much as Eric and Sunwoo’s. You side-eye them and roll your own eyes, especially as you catch a glimpse of something very familiar in Sunwoo’s eyes—the fire and hunger.

Yeji introduces herself sweetly, with the most beautiful smile and laugh. You hope she can sing well, as visually she matches the image of your band very well. You let out a sigh of relief when she does sing, and she’s really good. Her voice is perfect, and you can already see her in the band.

“I’ve found the voice of an angel. I’ve fallen in love,” Sunwoo breathes heavily, his typical behaviour not surprising you in the least.

“You should view the auditions objectively. You shouldn’t let personal feelings get in the way of your judging,” you say, smirking.

“Shut up,” he replies hastily, unable to deny the truth in your words.

You’re taken aback by the look of genuine admiration in Sunwoo’s eyes. Could it be that he’s actually serious about his feelings for once? You’ve known Sunwoo long enough to recognize when he’s being sincere, and this time, it feels real.

After Yeji finishes her audition, a serene silence envelops the room, filled with admiration and appreciation for her talent. Sunwoo seems ready to offer her the role of lead vocalist on the spot, but you intervene before he can speak.

“Wait,” you interject, ignoring Sunwoo’s eagerness and turning to Yeji with a warm smile. “There’s one more person who wants to audition. Let’s hear her out before making a decision.”

You can feel Sunwoo’s frustration, but you know it’s important to give everyone a fair chance, even if Yeji seems like the perfect fit. 

Your heart sinks when you see who walks in

—it's Arin. An unsettling feeling washes over you, stirring up uncertainty that you try to push away, but it lingers like a stubborn shadow. She's so radiant and beautiful, exuding an energy and light that's hard to ignore. You understand why she's so popular; she's captivating in every way.

Of course, you know who she is—someone in the

year above, who seems to have a magnetic pull on everyone around her. All the guys are crazy for her, drawn to her like she's the centre of gravity in the room. And it's not just the guys; even Sunwoo and Eric seem infatuated by her presence, their eyes lingering on her like she's the only thing in the room.

She's sweet, with an infectious laugh and a presence that commands attention. She's the girl every guy wants to fuck and every girl wants to be. 

And apparently, she has a beautiful singing voice too?

She's good. Really good. Her voice is like an angel's, filling the room with a captivating melody that earns her instant appreciation from everyone present. 

You scoff and shoot a sideways glance at Sunwoo, muttering, "She's so bad."

He just smirks and shakes his head, clearly disagreeing with you. "She's definitely not," Eric chimes in, his voice laced with a dreamy quality that seems to be a common affliction among the guys in the room. Arin has this effect on every single one of them.

Nayoung smirks knowingly and teases, "I thought you didn't care about Sunghoon fucking her?"

You huff in response, denying any emotional investment in the matter. But no matter how much you try to defend yourself, it's clear that they all think your judgement is clouded by the rumour about Sunghoon and Arin.

Sunwoo remarks, "You should view the auditions objectively... You shouldn't let personal feelings get in the way of your judgement," he smirks, a reference to your previous words. 

As the crisp autumn evening settled over the campus, the university art gallery was abuzz with activity, its warmly lit interior casting a welcoming glow through the expansive glass doors. Tonight, it hosted the annual student art exhibition, a highlight for the arts department and an event that drew a crowd of eager students, local art enthusiasts, and faculty alike.

You, dressed in a favourite band tee that had seen better days and comfortable, well-worn jeans, felt a surge of excitement as you stepped into the gallery with Nayoung at your side. Your casual outfit, coupled with a pair of sturdy sneakers, was perfect for an evening spent on your feet, moving from one display to another.

As you adjusted the strap of your camera bag and pulled out your camera, the bustling art gallery buzzed around you. “Smileee,” you called out to Nayoung, who obliged with a fake grin and a thumbs-up. You rolled your eyes, she did not want to be here. She looked hot though, styled in her black mini dress and brown leather jacket 

As you entered the gallery, the air was filled with the murmurs of impressed spectators and the soft, jazzy undertones of background music that added a sophisticated touch to the evening. The exhibition space was vibrant and packed, walls adorned with an array of artworks that ranged from abstract paintings to complex sculptures and daring installations.

Your eyes widened with genuine appreciation as you took in the scene. The exhibition was a canvas of creativity, each piece telling its own vivid story. Driven by your innate love for art, you began to ramble enthusiastically about the techniques and hidden meanings behind various artworks, pointing out the bold strokes and intricate details that might escape the untrained eye.

Nayoung, trailing slightly behind, matched your pace but not your enthusiasm. Her responses were polite, nodding along and offering the occasional “that’s really cool” or “wow,” though it was clear that her interest lay more in the social than the artistic aspects of the event. Despite this, she was there for you, you had dragged her here. 

As you delved deeper into the nuances of a particularly captivating installation—a mixed media piece that utilised recycled materials to comment on consumer culture—Nayoung’s attention occasionally drifted. She was more absorbed in scanning the crowd, perhaps looking for familiar faces or simply taking in the overall ambiance.

You couldn’t help but launch into detailed explanations as you moved from one artwork to another, your enthusiasm bubbling over. “See the way the light is captured here?” you pointed out, gesturing toward a series of dramatic black-and-white photographs that explored the interplay of shadow and light. “It’s all about the angle and timing, which is something we discuss a lot in my music composition classes, except we’re capturing sound, not light.”

Nayoung trailed beside you, her interest clearly elsewhere. With a drink already in hand, thanks to the small flask she'd pulled from the pocket of her leather jacket, she took occasional sips, her other hand frequently fishing her phone out to check messages or scroll through her feed.

"Do you ever get tired of talking about brush strokes?" Nayoung teased, an exasperated but playful tone in her voice as she watched you analyze yet another painting. Her question hung in the air, punctuated by her taking another discreet sip from her flask.

Throughout the evening, Nayoung seemed more intent on steering the conversation away from art and towards more personal topics. "So, let's talk about Sunghoon," she says with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You sigh inwardly, already anticipating where this conversation is headed. "No," you reply bluntly, hoping to steer the discussion away from your private life.

But Nayoung is undeterred. "Yes!" she insists, her tone teasing.

"So, in what position did he fuck you? How big is his cock?" she asks with a playful smirk, taking a sip of her drink.

You can't help but laugh at her audacity. "Nayoung, you've literally had sex with him. You know how big his cock is," you retort, rolling your eyes.

She tuts mockingly. "Who said I was looking?"

You shoot her a skeptical look. "If I tell you, will you finally leave me alone?" you challenge.

Nayoung nods eagerly, but you can tell she's not entirely sincere in her promise.

"We did it in missionary," you lie smoothly, not wanting to divulge too much. "And his cock? It's about two inches bigger than Eric's," you add truthfully.

Nayoung nearly chokes on her drink, her eyes widening in surprise. "It's that big?" she exclaims, clearly impressed.

You lean in closer, whispering, "You know how big it is! You fucked him too!"

Despite her promise to drop the subject, Nayoung continues to pester you, her questions becoming more probing with each passing moment.

"How was it? Did you feel anything when having sex with him? Anything deeper?" she inquires, her gaze fixated on you with an intensity that makes you uncomfortable.

You shake your head firmly, maintaining your composure. "Absolutely nothing," you lie smoothly, not yet ready to divulge the details of your encounter with Sunghoon-especially not the parts that still make your heart race just thinking about them.

While you were mid-sentence, breaking down the complexity of an abstract painting that caught your artistic eye, a movement at the entrance abruptly halted your train of thought. Sunghoon strolled in, he was impossible to miss, He had shifted the room's focus. He moved with an unassuming confidence that drew looks from every corner, a quiet testament to his presence. You watched, just for a moment, as all eyes flickered toward him. 

He wore a plain white tee that seemed to accentuate his toned figure, paired with jeans that fit just right. His hair, effortlessly swept back, gave him a look that was both polished and carefree. Jake, his best friend, was by his side, the light catching his blonde hair, a relaxed figure in his hoodie. But it was Sunghoon who had stolen the moment, his mere presence causing your heart to skip a beat and your words to stumble into silence.

Reacting instinctively, you reached out and clasped Nayoung’s arm, diverting her mid-chuckle into a quick detour. “Let’s check out the sculptures,” you said hastily, feeling the weight of Sunghoon’s unintended intrusion tighten around your chest as you steered both yourself and Nayoung toward a distant corner of the gallery.

Concealed behind the angular shadows of a towering metal sculpture, you and Nayoung stood secluded from the gallery’s hum. Its cool, hard surface offered a strange comfort, a silent ally amidst the turmoil within you. Nayoung’s face, usually so composed, now mirrored concern. “Why are you hiding from him? Haven’t you talked to Sunghoon since that night?” Her voice, though soft, seemed to fill the entire space around you.

Leaning against the sculpture’s chill offered a small reprieve, its coldness a stark counter to the warmth flushing your skin. Words felt like distant things, hard to grasp, harder to voice. You responded not with words but with a faint shake of your head, the motion carrying the weight of unspoken confessions.

“Y/N, this is messy,” Nayoung said, her voice layered with a mix of reprimand and concern.

“He messages me,” you found your voice, albeit shaky, “tries to talk to me, to come up to me on campus.” The words felt heavy, laden with a confusion that seemed to cloud your thoughts.

Nayoung’s smile flickered with a glimmer of hope. “That’s good, right? It means he’s interested in you,” she reasoned, her smile fading into a frown as she caught the turmoil twisting your features.

You sucked in a breath, feeling trapped in the sculpture’s cast shadow, a dim refuge from the gallery’s soft lights. “I don’t know how to face him,” you admitted, your whisper barely rising above the hush of distant conversations. “That night was overwhelming, and now… now I’m just lost.”

“Why are you so scared if that night meant nothing to you?” Nayoung probed gently, her fingers interlacing with yours in a solid, warm grip.

You covered your face with your free hand, rubbing at your eyes as if you could wipe away the uncertainty. “I don’t know what it meant. I’m confused. It’s all just so intense, so much for my heart… I’ve never felt this way, and it’s terrifying.” The words tumbled out, a chaotic mix of fear and longing. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him.”

“I’m scared, Nayoung. I’m scared of what I’m feeling, of what all this might mean.” Your words hung suspended, resonating with the same enduring presence as the art around you. 

Nayoung didn’t release your hand; instead, she drew you closer, a pillar of support in the echoing vastness of the gallery. “It’s okay to be scared,” she assured you. “But hiding here won’t answer any of your questions. You can’t let fear hold you back.” Her encouragement was soft but firm, a gentle push toward the clarity you so desperately needed.

You nod. As you step backward, ready to leave the comfort of the sculpture’s shadow, your movement is abruptly halted by a solid, unexpected barrier. A quick gasp escapes your lips as you spin around, words of apology already forming, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Your voice trails off when you see it’s Sunghoon you’ve bumped into. His presence, so close and unexpected, sends a jolt through you that’s part shock, part something more electric. For a split second, you’re frozen.

He stands mere inches away, his expression initially mirroring the tired detachment you’ve seen in Nayoung’s eyes tonight, suggesting he’d rather be anywhere but here. But the moment his gaze meets yours, something shifts. There’s a flicker of something more intense, more profound.

Your eyes lock with his for a fleeting second, and in that brief exchange, his look deepens, becoming electric and unreadable. The air around you thickens as if charged by this sudden connection, leaving your heart pounding not just with nervousness but with a bewildering rush of emotions that you can’t quite decipher. His presence envelops you, intense and palpable, drawing you into a moment you both seem reluctant to break, yet overwhelmed to sustain.

Sunghoon, dressed casually but looking every bit the effortless figure who haunts your quieter moments, just smiles slightly. His voice, when he speaks, is soft and carries an undertone of warmth that only adds to your turmoil. “It’s a beautiful sculpture, isn’t it?” he comments, his eyes lingering on yours, trying to capture your gaze.

You notice the slight upturn of his lips—a knowing, almost teasing smirk that suggests he might understand more than he lets on. But you can’t hold his gaze, your eyes darting away after a fleeting, charged moment of eye contact that sends an array of sensations coursing through you. It’s too much, too intense—every nerve ending seems to scream, your skin tingling from the nearness of him.

With a rushed, barely audible excuse, you stutter, “Sorry, gotta get to the lecture!!!” Your hand shoots out, finding Nayoung’s, and without waiting for a response, you pull her away from Sunghoon and the sculpture, eager to escape into the crowd. Nayoung follows without protest, casting an amused glance back at Sunghoon, who stands there watching you leave, his expression unreadable.

As you navigate through the throng of people, your pulse racing, you don’t dare look back. The brief interaction leaves you with a flood of emotions you’re not ready to dissect—not here, not now. Nayoung remains silent beside you, her presence a comforting constant as you put distance between yourself and Sunghoon. Your escape feels both like a victory and a defeat, the complex emotions swirling inside you mirroring the intricate artworks you leave behind.

Nayoung’s laughter echoed in the otherwise quieting atmosphere of the lecture hall as you both settled into the back left corner. “Would you stop?” you whispered harshly, crossing your arms and sinking lower into your seat, though a secret smile tugged at your lips for securing such a strategically secluded spot.

“I’m just happy we got the best seats in the house,” you added with a pout, pretending to sulk yet relieved by the thought that Sunghoon wouldn’t easily spot you here.

The hall gradually filled, the buzz of conversation growing as students gathered. Your heart skipped a beat when Sunghoon walked in, accompanied by Jake. They took seats a few rows ahead, seemingly unaware of your presence. You let out a silent breath, hoping to remain unnoticed.

Professor Doyoung, widely recognized as the best arts professor at the university, began the lecture with his usual charismatic flair. Today’s session was special—a celebration of student achievements, spotlighting various art pieces and sculptures. The room dimmed slightly as the projector lit up with images of student artwork.

Your pulse quickened when a photo of your own creation appeared on the screen. The room filled with murmurs of admiration, but your own heart pounded for an entirely different reason. “And here we have an outstanding piece by one of our brightest students,” Professor Doyoung announced, his voice filling the lecture hall with enthusiastic approval. “This innovative work was created by none other than Y/N, whose artistic vision and execution have consistently impressed us.”

As he showered you with praise, detailing the depth and creativity behind your work, a sense of pride mixed with intense embarrassment washed over you. It was meant to be an anonymous exhibition, yet here was Professor Doyoung, breaking protocol because he believed certain students deserved recognition for their efforts.

While you appreciated the acknowledgment, your cheeks burned hotter when Professor Doyoung, spotting you trying to sink further into your seat, pointed you out to the entire auditorium. “Let’s give a round of applause to Y/N, sitting right at the back there, for such a brilliant contribution!”

The audience’s applause thundered in your ears, but it was the sound of bodies shifting and heads turning that heightened your anxiety. Sunghoon turned around, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling on you. When your gazes locked, a silent jolt of electricity shot through you. His expression transformed from casual interest to a more intense, unreadable look, tinged with a hint of a smile that seemed both knowing and curious.

The world around you seemed to blur into the background as the two of you maintained eye contact. The warmth of his smile, despite the distance, sent waves of nerves dancing up your spine, mixing with a thrill that you couldn’t quite suppress. You felt exposed yet oddly seen, the kind of visibility that made your stomach twist yet somehow left you wanting more.

You averted your gaze first, looking down at your lap as your face heated up. Beside you, Nayoung nudged you gently, a silent gesture of support—or perhaps encouragement to acknowledge the connection you obviously had with Sunghoon, one that seemed to extend beyond mere academic coincidences.

The lecture continued, but your mind was elsewhere, caught up in the whirlwind of emotions triggered by that brief yet impactful exchange of looks with Sunghoon. Your heart still raced, not just from the public praise but because of him. 

After the lecture, you spot Jake lingering near the front of the room. Despite sharing a few classes, your interactions had always been casual—pleasant exchanges about coursework and occasional class discussions. Jake was known for his calm demeanor, a stark contrast to Sunghoon’s more dynamic presence. Now, with your recent involvement with Sunghoon weighing on your mind, you find yourself curious about their friendship. They seemed like opposites yet clearly got along so well, everyone knew they were best friends, brothers even. Perhaps it was true what they said about opposites attracting.

As you’re methodically packing up your things, Jake approaches with a gentle ease that diminishes the room’s formality. His presence feels like a quiet reassurance in the noisy aftermath of the lecture.

“He went ahead, you don’t need to worry,” Jake says softly, noticing the tightness in your expression. It catches you off-guard how observant he is, how he seems to catch even the subtlest shifts in your mood.

You gulp, a bit flustered by his insight. “I—”

“I think he’s really intrigued by you, you know,” Jake continues, his voice warm and encouraging. “I don’t know why, but he seems genuinely interested in getting to know you better. You always seem to run the other way, though.” His smile is gentle, nudging you towards reconsideration without pushing too hard. “Maybe you should give him a chance; Sunghoon’s actually a decent guy.”

“I’m not intentionally trying to avoid him,” you confess, the words tumbling out in a rush. “He just… makes me nervous.”

Jake’s chuckle is soft, a sound that spreads calm. He reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder for a fleeting moment, grounding you. “He makes everyone nervous at first. You get used to it,” he reassures, his touch light but affirming. “Who knows, you might even start to like it. I know I like it.” You can’t help but giggle when he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

“I know it might seem like he’s intense, and yeah, he’s serious when it comes to things and people he cares about. But he’s also really chill once you get to know him better. He’s the kind of person you’d want in your corner,” he explains, his tone earnest.

“He doesn’t just give his attention and effort to anyone,” Jake continues, his eyes locking with yours to emphasise his point. “So don’t take it for granted or push him away. You might lose his interest forever, and trust me, you’d miss it. He’s someone you really want in your life. He's a really good guy..”

His comforting grin lingers as he steps back, giving you space to process his words. With a friendly nod, Jake walks away, leaving a trail of thoughtfulness behind him. His advice resonates with you, stirring a mix of anticipation and resolve. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to confront your nerves and see where things with Sunghoon could lead.

The crisp morning air nips at your skin as you traverse the campus pathway, lost in the world curated by your playlist. With every sip of your coffee, you feel the warmth spread through you, contrasting with the coolness of the day. Your steps are unhurried, a rare moment of solitude embraced amidst the hustle of your life.

Suddenly, a gentle tap on your shoulder pulls you from your reverie. You pull out one earbud, turning to see Sunghoon standing behind you. Despite the flutter in your stomach, you remember Jake’s words: Don’t push him away. Taking a deep breath, you muster a smile, not just any smile, but one that reaches your eyes, showing Sunghoon you’re here in this moment with him.

“Hey,” Sunghoon greets, his voice smooth, drawing a line of warmth up your spine despite the autumn chill.

You manage a nod, trying to appear composed. “Hi, Sunghoon,” you reply, your voice steadier than you feel. His gaze is intense, and you find yourself unable to meet his eyes directly, focusing instead slightly over his shoulder.

As you walk together, Sunghoon’s voice breaks through the crisp air. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for the last month now…” 

Every attempt he made to bridge the gap between you was met with your nervous laughter or hasty excuses. His presence—so wanted yet so overwhelming—left you fumbling, your words tripping over your rapid heartbeat. But today you would handle things differently. 

Or so you wished.

His voice seemed to blend into the background, making it difficult to focus. “Are you free this weekend?” he asked, a simple question that felt loaded with possibilities. Is he asking you out? Or is this just casual?

The campus around you felt unusually constricted as pairs of eyes turned to follow your interaction, their stares prickling uncomfortably on your skin. The judgmental looks from passing students, especially from girls who eyed you with undisguised envy or disdain, made it challenging to concentrate on Sunghoon’s words. 

Sunghoon closes the distance between you with a measured step, his presence enveloping you in a subtle but undeniable warmth. His fingers tuck a stray hair behind your ear, the contact tender yet anchoring, pulling you back to the moment. His eyes lock onto yours, his voice a soothing whisper, “Just ignore them. Just look at me.”

Your breath catches, the simple command resonating deeply as you murmur, “But they’re all looking at me. At us,” your voice trembles in the air.

He smiles softly, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as he holds your face with a careful, affectionate grip. “And I want you to look at me,” he insists, his gaze steady and piercing, radiating a calm confidence that makes your heart race yet somehow reassures you.

As Sunghoon's hands gently cradle your face, his thumbs softly caressing your skin, you find yourself nodding as he tells you to focus on him.. The steady throb of your heart begins to calm, settling into a rhythm that feels less frantic, more in tune with the moment. Your eyes lock with his, and as you let yourself truly look at him, all fears begin to melt away. You lean slightly into the warmth of his touch, the tension in your body easing as you allow yourself to be anchored by his presence. 

“Are you coming to Sunwoo’s party tonight?” he asks casually, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

You give a small nod. “Maybe.”

“I hope you’re there,” he says, his tone sincere. “It gives me a reason to go.” He’s always so honest. 

“Sunwoo will be dealing, are you sure that’s not reason enough?” 

He smirks. “Close second.” 

“It’s too much,” Yeji giggles shyly, running her hands over the dress she was going to wear tonight, in awe of the beautiful decorations and sparkles.

Her eyes moved to the brand new microphone Sunwoo had gifted her to congratulate her for winning the auditions and becoming the newest member of the band. “It's definitely too much, I didn't anticipate or expect any of this.”

You shake your head. “It’s not too much, you deserve it all.”

“Plus the dress is stunning, you’ll look beautiful,” you add. The dress was quite out there, adorned with sparkles and glitters. Yeji was definitely going to stand out and be the star of the show. “How did you get a dress as beautiful as that?” you ask.

“I don’t know… it just turned up to my door with a note telling me to wear it!” she responds.

“Sunwoo,” you respond immediately.

You both laugh. You know why he’s throwing this party randomly, with no warning or planning. It’s a surprise party for her, celebrating her joining the band. Sunwoo is welcoming her.

“I bet he buys dresses for all his girls,” she rolls her eyes as she slips into the dress.

“No, he doesn’t,” you say matter-of-factly, shaking your head in astonishment. Yeji was different for him. You could already feel that.

Applying the prettiest shade of pink to her cheeks, you couldn’t help but admire how blush looked so beautiful on Yeji. It complemented her complexion perfectly, adding a touch of radiance to her already glowing skin. As she examined herself in the mirror, a smile lit up her face, and you knew she was going to steal the show tonight.

“Aren’t you going?” she questioned, her eyes glancing over your pyjamas and messy bun.

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of exhaustion and a slight headache creeping in. “I don’t feel well,” you admitted, hoping she’d understand.

“No, you have to come. I’ll be nervous all there by myself,” she pleaded, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

Despite your reluctance, you couldn’t resist her puppy-dog eyes and the genuine warmth in her voice. Yeji had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel special, and you didn’t want to disappoint her.

“You won’t be by yourself,” you assured her with a smile, knowing Sunwoo and Eric would be there to keep her company.

Yeji was a new student, still adjusting to the rhythm of college life, but she had quickly become a familiar presence. Her easygoing nature and infectious enthusiasm had won over the hearts of many, including yours.

But she’s so sweet, and you couldn’t bear to see her disappointed.

“I’ll come,” you relented, knowing that her smile was worth it.

Her eyes lit up with excitement, and she practically bounced off the bed. “We need to get you ready,” she declared, already bustling around the room, gathering clothes and makeup.

As Yeji helps you pick out what to wear, her eyes light up when she spots a particular outfit. “This,” she exclaims, her gaze hungry as she holds up a daringly bold ensemble.

You feel your cheeks flush crimson at the sight of the revealing outfit. “That’s way too much,” you protest, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and excitement at her suggestion.

“But you’ll look so sexy though!” she insists, her excitement infectious as she imagines you rocking the outfit.

Despite your reservations, you can’t deny the thrill of the idea. “I don’t want to draw too much attention…” you murmur, but Yeji is already convincing you otherwise.

In the end, you settle on the cherry blossom pink mini dress she picked out, the soft hue flattering your complexion perfectly. As you change into the outfit, you can’t help but feel a surge of confidence wash over you. You opted for minimal makeup, you wanted to enhance your natural features, and soon you’re both admiring the stunning result in the mirror.

“Your wardrobe is so daring,” Yeji remarks, her eyes scanning through your clothes with awe.

As you step into Sunwoo’s house, a wave of nervousness washes over you despite how familiar you are to this house. It’s practically your second home, yet tonight feels different somehow.

A rush of color and a buzz of activity immediately greet you. You walk through the entryway bathed in vibrant lighting that casts dynamic shadows across the textured, dark-stained wooden walls. The decorations hanging there are bold and modern, each piece making a statement with its bright colours and daring strokes.

Beneath your feet, dark hardwood floors stretch out, absorbing the light and noise, giving the house a grounded, almost intimate feel. In the living area, a group of people lounge on oversized furniture, upholstered in deep, rich tones, chatting over glasses of chilled drinks pulled from stacked ice coolers that blend seamlessly into the decor.

You walk to the backyard where the atmosphere shifts from subdued luxury to a lively party scene. The garden is lit by strategically placed neon lights that highlight the lush greenery with an almost surreal glow. Music pulses in the background, the bassline vibrating softly underfoot.

It was a chaotic blur of vibrant colours, pulsating music, and energetic bodies moving to the rhythm. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol and the haze of cigarette smoke, mingling with the scent of drugs and anticipation.

The sight of so many people, each lost in their own world of intoxication and euphoria, is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Everywhere you look, there are couples making out, friends sharing laughter and secrets, and strangers forging connections in the dimly lit corners of the room.

Amidst the chaos, you catch sight of Sunwoo, his expression dazed and his movements sluggish as he navigates through the crowd. He spots you and stumbles over, enveloping you in a drunken hug. “You actually came!” he slurs, planting a sloppy kiss on your forehead before his attention is quickly diverted to Yeji, already taking her hand and leading her somewhere. 

As you weave through the lively crowd, the familiar laughter of Nayoung and Eunji draws you in like a beacon. You break into a wide smile, the tension melting away as soon as you see them, both teetering slightly, drinks in hand, their laughter filling the air.

“Heyyyy!” you shout over the music as you approach, arms open wide. They spot you and immediately stumble forward, nearly spilling their drinks in their excitement.

Eunji, with a tipsy grin, throws her arms around you, pulling you into a wobbly hug. “Oh my god, look at you, gorgeous!” she squeals, squeezing you tight. Nayoung joins in, her arms encircling both of you, her laughter contagious.

“We’ve been waiting for you!” Nayoung exclaims, her words slurring just a bit. She steps back to give you a once-over, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Look at you!!!” She whistles, holding your hand above and twirling you around. 

As Jake’s advice echoes in your mind, you find yourself fully immersed in the party atmosphere. Surrounded by the pulsing lights and thumping bass, you allow yourself to embrace the carefree spirit of the night. You’re a college student—young, pretty, and ready to let loose. If everyone else can dive into the highs of a college party, why shouldn’t you?

One step at a time. You want to take things slow tonight, hoping to eventually join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, dancing and laughing without a care. But for now, you need a few more drinks to help shake off your inhibitions. Sitting beside Eric, who's thankfully keeping you company, you feel a bit more anchored. He hands you a cup filled with your favourite drink—your first for the evening and hopefully the first of many.