sunsoupp ★

but the sick feeling you have deep in your gut from when you read those incriminating texts and watched those disgusting amateur sex tapes they filmed still kept you up at night.

you weren't mad because you wished to get back together with him—god, no. you were mad because who does he think he is to be cheating on you of all people?

you're hot. that's the reputation you've unintentionally created for yourself.

you're popular, easy on the eyes, and so charming that you're universally wanted but still unattainable to most people who tried.

your looks or level of sex appeal couldn't shield you from the fucked up way a person can decide to betray you out of nowhere. you knew that. but you'd least expected it to come from your ex because... he was seojun.

and it's an open secret within the student body that he's the guy who pursued you with the stubbornness of a crack addict hammering at the doorstep of his plug just for a single gram.

he kept pushing his luck—waiting for you outside classes, getting you treats you never asked for, and pathetically following on your tail no matter where you went.

you turned him down every single time.

you have a reputation to uphold: the popular girl who wouldn't be caught dead getting tied down to one person's bed, man or woman.

you're too young, too hot, and the confines of a committed relationship was something you couldn't ever see yourself being put into.

still, he convinced you that your time and energy wouldn't be wasted if you just gave him one chance. just a single one.

so when you gave him your sweet yes, seojun was nothing less than elated.

because who wouldn't be?what mentally sane person wouldn't be over the moon if they were be able strut into university grounds with you in their arms like a shiny, lip-gloss wearing badge of honor?

and you don't mean to be transactional. in your most vulnerable, a large part of you can admit that you felt genuine adoration for the guy — but if he was staining your reputation and boosting his own for being able to bag someone as untameable as you, then he should be somehow capable of keeping you satiated, right?

wrong.

night after night, you sat with the misery of your previously thrilling and colorful sex life turning more bland by the second.

little to no foreplay, unending doggy positions, and the act of pulling out your ol' reliable rose toy to fulfill your own needs once seojun finished became an unwanted habit.

as if that wasn't enough consequence to your stupid choices, you also had to deal with your inner circle of friends trying to placate you with the cursed phrase: "as long as he makes you happy."

but that was the issue, wasn't it? you weren't happy. not with his lackluster efforts in the romance department, and certainly not in his subpar performance in bed.

him having the audaciousness to fuck another woman was just the cherry on top.

that's why you decided to call for back up in the form of kim sunoo.

sunoo has been a constant in your life. though your friendship was forged by coincidence, it was strengthened by the passage of time.

growing up with his house beside yours, you figured the only reason he stuck around was because he didn't really have a choice but to associate himself with the chaotic ball of evil next-door.

you clearly remember him hiding behind his father's legs when your parents greeted each other the day you moved in to the house beside theirs. he was elusive during shared dinners and neighborhood barbecues, too. but your eagerness and consistency was able to slowly melt him down until he eventually stopped dodging your attempts to be closer.

he's been by your side since then.

he was there with you through the horrendous bowl cut you had at 6, the awkward growing-into-your-body puberty phase at 13, the college acceptance letters at 18, and several of your post-break up bitch fits like the one you had just a day ago.

he's helpful, always gave solid advice that sometimes feels a little too pointed, but you know it's all said out of love. the kind of friend who'd question you, but ride along anyway.

sunoo's perched on your bed, back rested against the headboard. tiktok audios blast from his phone, serving as a backdrop while you spend the next fifteen minutes scrolling through pinterest.

you needed inspiration for the hottest, steamiest picture to post — something so saliva-inducing that it would have your ex knocking frantically at your door and falling down on his knees and earnestly begging for you to take him back. and seojun, none the wiser, would be rejected with a few less-than-savory insults and a door slammed to his face.

oh, you could already taste how sweet that revenge would be.

"babe… you're seriously creeping me out. i know you're mad at your ex, but don't tell me he's driven you that crazy." sunoo mumbled with eyes still glued to his phone.

he doesn't need to see you pacing around your room. he just knows you are. and if his intuition served him right, he'd also guess that you also had your freshly-done nail between your teeth, biting on it to keep your temper at bay.

between the cringe-inducing motivational quotes and the ever inescapable clickbaity ads scattered across the pins, you were beginning to lose patience and had half a mind to reply something snarky back at him when you come across the photo.

a below the neck shot of a woman with splotches of hickeys scattered all over her neck and chest, fingers pulling down the fabric of her shirt until it revealed more marks that disappear behind her hands.

it's everything you envisioned and more.

it's perfect. it's sexy. it's tastefully raunchy. it existed in the gray space of being suggestive, but not quite reaching the line of desperate. (because god forbid your ex gets that impression.)

all of a sudden, your morale is charged back up to a hundred.

sunoo's doomscrolling is interrupted once again when you slip your phone in between his face and his own phone, smile so bright and jolly it's almost unbelievable that just got broken up with.

"sunoo! is this the photo or what?"

he takes a glance at the photo, gives your covered decolletage a quick scan, and returns his eyes to the next video his algorithm serves him.

"looks good, babe." he mutters, disinterested. "i'm soooo sure he'll come running back if he sees you pull your shirt down when he's already fucked another girl behind your back for a month."

the sarcasm in his voice goes straight over your head. "right? he'll be soooooo pissed!"

you run to the full body mirror in the corner of your room, tugging at the neckline of your shirt. "so about the hickeys. i'm gonna need you to make one here, a few by my jaw and neck, and then… hmmm, maybe a couple of dark ones on my left tit? like right about here—"

sunoo pauses his scrolling again, one of his well-groomed eyebrows rising. he was convinced he misheard you. weren't you only after the pose in that darned photo?

"a couple of what?"

"hickeys! i just knooooow he's going to be pissed if he sees i fucked around this quick after i broke up with his sorry ass. he doesn't have to know it's you, though. or maybe he can—remember he was so pressed about us being friends? yeah, that'll piss him off even more. but about the hickeys, i was thinking you could—"

"i'm not going to do that." he says flatly.

you slowly turn your head, eyes already throwing daggers his way. "well i can't fucking reach my own neck, can i? so you're going to have to do it."

"actually, i don't have to do anything."

"but sunoo!" you whine, moving on the spot beside him with pouted lips. "you said you'd help me."

"i said i'd help because i thought all i had to do was take a few photos of you in a sexy pose, not because i wanted to cosplay a vampire. i mean—sucking hickeys on your neck? that's ridiculous!"

"babe, come onnnnn," you plead, tugging on his hand. "it doesn't have to be weird! it'll be just like that one night during freshman year."

sunoo immediately cringes, expression contorting at the fresh wave of memories that your words bring.

that night was certainly... something.

two years ago, back before you moved to your fancy, off-campus flat, you snuck sunoo over to your dorm room after hours with a bottle of bottom shelf vodka in hand. you threw back one full shot glass after the other until you both end up tipsy and snuggled on your twin bed.

you stared at the bottle that was still halfway full sitting in the corner of your dorm room, the alcohol running through your veins pushing you to confess that you've never had the opportunity to give (or get) a hickey.

sunoo, careless and giggly from intoxication, admitted he had no experience in the matter either.

all of a sudden, you moved from being in his arms to being on top of him, straddling his lying body with eyes burning in determination as you convinced him that you could do it to one another.

you marketed it as something to aid your inexperience — it would boost your sexual knowledge so you wouldn't look like losers going into hook-ups and situationships and whatever messy relationships the first year of college offered.

he choked out a flustered "okay," not knowing the same experiment would be used against him years after by the same girl.

he pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a quiet sigh. "do i really have to do it?"

you pause, shoulders slumped down at his defeated tone. dread washes over sunoo when you poke your tongue to your cheek because he knew what this meant.

a brand new wave of your bitch fit is rolling in.

"you know what? i'm not going to force you if you don't want to help a friend in need." you grab your phone, grumbling more complaints under your breath.

"doll, you know i didn't mean it that way.."

your nails make loud clicking noises as you aggressively tap on the screen, scoffing through your nose while you scroll through the familiar names on your roster. "guess i'll just call jungwon, then. or jake. or winter, or sohyun—fuck!—whoever fucking answers first! 'm sure they'd be more of a willing participant anyway."

sunoo's jaw tightens at your fuck buddies' names. something difficult and unnameable clawed at his throat, begging to be vocalized but he swallows all of it down and reaches for your wrist instead.

"don't do that, doll."

"so are you going to do it instead?"

his hold tightens as the scowl on your face curl into a giddy smile.

"i knew you'd give in."

"hurry up and change into a different shirt before i change my mind."

you slip out of your bathroom wearing a velvet top just like the photo you found: classy crimson red color, off the shoulder neckline, form fitting at the waist, but loose enough around your chest for you to tug it down and expose the marks.

you walk over to sunoo with an extra pep to your step, giving him a single twirl. "how does this one look?"

sunoo's eyes travel to your face, to the clean, unmarred skin of your neck, and then lower down to where his eyes usually end up getting stuck on: your tits.

the shirt did wonders for your figure, and it's not his fault that the fabric had a special way of catching the light and emphasizing your breasts' perkiness so well — it's all normal and involuntary, really.

but the heat rising up to his cheeks and the guilt slamming at his conscience are proof that he couldn't convince himself it normal.

he knows he shouldn't be getting half-hard just from your pretty pair's silhouette and he knows he shouldn't be ogling at them so carelessly, but at the end of the day, sunoo was only a man—the kind who would fail the gentleman's challenge of looking away from temptation.

thankfully, you're too focused on yourself to catch him in the act.

"it looks good on you." sunoo swings his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting in his usual manspread before patting his thigh. "c'mere, babe."

you'd been in this position more times than you can count, so you sit down atop of him without hesitation, knees sinking into the soft mattress as you make yourself comfortable on his lap.

one of your hands rest on his shoulder and the other pushes your hair to one side. "you ready?"

"only if you are."

"alright. let's see how much you've improved since freshman year." you jab, grinning with that familiar glint of evil in your eyes.

confidence pours out of him as he leans in until the tip of his nose brushes along the column of your neck. "you don't know what you're asking for, doll."

the sudden closeness makes you shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin when you grow aware of how warm he is pressed against you. has he always been this broad? this firm?

you swear you didn't mean to gulp so loudly, but you did. and you knew he heard it because you could feel his shit-eating grin against your neck.

his lips brush against your pulse as he spoke. "nervous? don't tell me you're backing out now."

"what're you trying to imply? shut up and get to work." you bite back, further bratty remarks silenced by the press of his soft lips against your skin.

sunoo takes his time trying to find a spot that would deliver equal pleasure to you and insult to your ex. he presses open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck, and once he found a spot he liked, he didn't hold back.

he licks and nips into a patch of skin, muffling a groan against you as the whisper of soap and vanilla from your body mist hits his tongue. it's so sweet, familiar, and undeniably you.

you let out soft sighs, one of your hands scraping upwards until his jet black strands were tangled in your fingers.

he leans back on occasion to assess whether it was colored deeply enough for his liking. if it was, he'd move on to the next spot and if it wasn't, he'd go back in harder, hungrier.

"a–ah… sunoo," you whimper after an especially harsh bite. "can't you be more gentle?"

"do you want me to do my job properly or not?" he huffs and lets his teeth scrape against your jugular, almost as if to teach you a lesson.

you don't understand why he's suddenly so eager to be a participant in your vengeful side-quest, but sunoo knew damn well that the silence was doing. it was giving him the perfect opportunity to settle with the annoyance he's been trying to set aside for so long.

a deep-seated irritation, both from the fact that you were willing to go this far to prove your worth to your ex—who had already left you broken hearted and done it with another woman—and the fact that you essentially fooled him into being a tool to achieve that goal.

he quietly redirected that anger through increased roughness of his bites, disregarding if it brought you discomfort. you wanted to get your revenge on your ex, so in his own little way, he was getting his revenge on you too.

but the more marks he left, the more irate he got.

he pulls back, gracefully wiping the shine off of his plump lips. "you want me to put a few on your tits too, right?"

despite the ugly emotions brewing inside him, sunoo looked like composure incarnate.

you, in stark comparison, were a mess: lower lip caught between your teeth, face all flushed and reddish, eyes unable to meet his.

"y–yeah.. just a couple on the left one."

"well i'm not gonna be able to do that with your shirt in the way."

"shirt… ha, right," you force out a chuckle. "can you, like, look away for a quick second?"

he's confused but he follows your strange request anyway. you take that chance to pull your shirt over your head, and the belated regret of not wearing a bra hits you.

you fight through it, slipping your hands back up until you're cupping your bare chest, swallowing down a whimper when your palm presses flat against your pebbled nipples.

"you can look now..." you mutter, feeling blood rush to your cheeks.

it's odd to suddenly feel shy when sunoo has seen you in more awful situations.

he's once picked you up from a bar, wasted and sniffling like a madwoman with mascara-stained undereyes after one margarita too many. he was a witness to your swollen eyes and tissue-stuffed nostrils when you got sick.

hell, he even hung out with you when you were clad in just panties and a flimsy sports bra, nipples poking through the thin fabric, all sweaty and lethargic because your landlord took too long to fix your broken ac in the middle of an intense heatwave.

you've been more naked with sunoo.

and yet you've never felt more exposed until now.

it's not a matter of the amount of clothing. it's likely the way he's behaving—the dark tinge of hunger in his eyes triggering your prey tendencies to hide, to run, even when he isn't actually doing anything yet.

he doesn't speak, doesn't move. he just looks at the flesh spilling behind your hands and the pretty crimson marks blooming above it like his personal artwork.

"stop squirming." he commands in that low, raspy voice. the way your body quickly follows his orders is an embarrassment in itself.

he anchors you on top of him again and presses his lips on the spot just above the dip of your cleavage. slow and gentle, almost reverential in the way he lets his lips sink into the softness of your chest.

compared to your neck, the softness of his mouth feels even more devastating here. senses heightened by the pressure of his mouth sucking into the upper curve of your tits, warm and wet tongue licking the bruises he made like an apology.

each graze of his teeth sends warmth pooling between your spread thighs where your sorry excuse of cotton panties are most likely drenched and ruined already.

he shifts a little beneath you, spending a few seconds kissing around the mark he just made before he grunts in dissatisfaction at his inability to find the next suitable spot.

"take your hands off and let me hold them."

your heart drops. "w–what?"

"you heard me." he says, slowly lifts your fingers off to reveal more skin. there's almost a nonchalance in his tone, like he was only suggesting it to be more efficient. "i can hold 'em up, doll. i'd make better hickeys without your hands in the way."

you stare at sunoo, and he stares back at you.

you don't know what the simple act of revealing yourself topless to your best friend could entail. he has seen you almost naked, but this... it could completely change the way he viewed you. it could possibly ruin your friendship in it's entirety.

in hindsight, these were possibilities you should've considered before you persuaded him to help recreate that photo. but with several marks already tainting your skin, you deem it useless to fight his suggestion.

you begrudgingly let go and look to the side in shame.

you feel the hands on your hips slowly travel upwards, tracing the curve of your hips, up to the dip of your waist before he fully cups your tits. the warmth of his palms pressed against your ribs is too hard to ignore.

even with your eyes glued to the swaying curtains of your room, you could feel the intensity of sunoo's dark gaze piercing through your fully exposed torso. you could feel his breathing turn heavy as he inhales slow like he's dragging out the moment.

your tits are... perfect. they're smooth, perky, and feels the right amount of heavy in his hands—just as beautiful as sunoo imagined.

"didn't know how pretty these are, baby." he leans back in to brush his lips along your jaw, voice having that signature teasing lilt. "are they as sensitive as i think?"

the question is followed with a gentle squeeze, to which you respond with a high pitched whimper.

"huh.. guess they are. didn't realize there were still new things i can discover about you, baby." he gives you a cocksure grin, unable to resist jiggling them in his hold.

the bravery in your tone as you snap at him is fueled by a mix of impatience and humiliation. "j–just shut your trap, sunoo. are you going to mark me or are you going to keep yapping my ear off?"

"now, now, sweet girl. that's no way to talk to someone when they're cupping your tits—not when you're this reactive to it." he clicks his tongue, hands closing in around your breasts in a rough grope.

he runs his thumbs over your stiff nipples and the friction of his fingers going back and forth against the peaks has you stammering and squeaking at the same time.

"shit, sunoo..o—oh my god, wait, don't!"

your protest falls on deaf ears. in usual sunoo fashion, he does simply as he pleases. he stares at your chest, almost hypnotized, while he tweaks and pulls and pinches, uncaring for the pathetic little noises you made.

then, seemingly remembering the task at hand, he resumes his full hold, pushing your pretty pair up and together. he lets his lips brush against the drip between your breast, the lack of obstruction giving him the freedom to carelessly press kisses all over the smooth skin.

"so pretty... and so fucking soft. god, they're perfect."

his warm breath fans over your pebbled nipples and you have to purse your lips to hold back the mewls threatening to rush out. he's shamelessly kneading and squeezing, obsessed with how tender they feel in his hands while his mouth persists on leaving more marks, making the obscene sounds of slurping and lip smacking bounce against the walls.

you try to endure but you're too flustered to keep being this close to him when your body feels like it's wrecked and burning a thousand degrees.

"sun, that's more than enough for the photo—nngh… stop!"

sunoo leans away with an unamused expression. he stares at the purple and red splotches littered from your neck down to your soft mounds with his jaw clenched tight.

were they not proof that you allowed him to touch you? taste you? were your moans not evidence that he made you feel good? so why do you keep telling him to stop?

and above all else, why do keep insisting that this is still for that stupid fucking photo?

"stop? are you really telling me to stop?"

"y–yes!"

the chuckle he lets out sounds hollow. just as you believed he was granting you mercy by pulling away, he only did it put your desperation on display.

his hand leaves one of your tits unattended in pursuit of holding on the back of your head, slender fingers finding enough grip against your hair to guide you to look down.

there, on the very big and very obvious bulge he sported, was a dark patch of wetness that stained his grey sweats. a mark that you've left behind.

"shouldn't i be the one telling you that?"

oh, god.

you've been humping him.

you've been humping your best friend and you weren't even aware you were doing it.

your eyes widen. "i— i wasn't… i didn't—"

"didn't what? didn't mean to say stop, or didn't mean to slut yourself out on top of me like a needy whore?" he laughs meanly, tightening his hold on your hair.

the mean insults make you choke on your words and the pain on scalp is adding to it, spiraling you further into a humiliation-fueled arousal.

"n–no! i swear i—"

"what is it, doll? you were basically showing how much you wanted my cock, and you only want us to stop now?" he throws one rhetorical question after another, emphasizing his last word with a thumb cruelly pressed down on your stiff, aching nipple.

you let out a shattered sob, body instinctively arching towards him and causing even more pressure on where you were already feeling the most sensitive.

"f–fuck—nnh—sun, please. p–please!"

"please what, doll?"

please let go. please squeeze me harder. please fuck me. please stop. please keep touching me.

you don't know what you're begging for anymore.

the low timbre of sunoo's voice and the unbearable stickiness between your thighs and the sensation of his groomed fingernail scraping against the tip of your nipple was driving you into a lustful craze and further fogging up your mind.

"tell me, pretty. c'mon. use your big girl words and tell me what you want."

his thumb rests on your lower lip and presses on the dampness of it. not pushing in, just resting while he admired how ruined you look—skin glistening in sweat, cheeks deeply tinted, teary waterline making glitters as they reflect the dull warm light of your bedside lamp.

you look beautiful.

if he knew this was all it took to get a view of you like this, he would have probably risked your friendship a long long time ago.

"oh, my pretty doll. you can't even talk, can you? so desperate for cock you'd resort to humping me while i make your poor nipples swell up..." he's relentless with his taunts, knowing it was riling you up even more.

you could physically feel the gush of wetness leak from your hole simultaneous to sunoo pushing his thumb inside your mouth. it presses on the dip of your tongue and he's mesmerized at the sight of you accepting it wholly with eyes fluttered shut.

you suck on it with hollowed cheeks, tongue rubbing on the pad of his finger and it gets his painfully hard cock twitching inside his sweats. he wants nothing more than to push your head down and get your warm mouth sucking on something better.

"you're lucky i know you so well, baby. it's all you've been thinking about, right? me filling up that pretty little pussy of yours."

"mmmm–mhm..." you nod desperately with his finger still in your mouth and your pretty tits bounce along, almost putting sunoo in a trance again.

he pulls out his thumb with a wet pop, the same saliva-slick finger rolling around your nipple. the cool air of the room to bites on the sensitive buds but sunoo replaces it with his own mouth, desperate to give himself a proper taste.

he pulls gratification from how full your tits feel, from the noticeable tenseness in your muscle each time he purposefully pinches your stiff bud between his teeth, and how easily his tongue disappears into their softness.

most of all, he's proud of the sounds you make as he plays with your plush tits as much as he desired. the sighs of relief, your hitched breaths and moans, no matter how hard you tried to bite them back, were all laid out in the open and they made it impossible for sunoo to keep holding onto his patience.

"fuck, can't keep blue balling myself like this," he effortlessly flips you on your back until you're trapped between him and the bed, growling. "i need everything off. now."

you don't need to be told more. you make quick work of your shorts and panties, kicking it down your legs until your warm, sticky center is fully exposed while sunoo rids himself of his shirt.

you're eager to help him too. guided by the warning look in his eyes, you hook your fingers and tug down, not knowing you'd get a jaw-dropping surprise.

you already suspected sunoo had the cock to match his big-dick-energy.

the softness of his features made him an easy target for less than playful jabs—the size of his cock being the punchline of a joke more often than not. yet sunoo would just shrug and agree with that self-reassured smirk that told you he was more than pleased with the amount he was blessed with.

and it was a given that he knew how to put it to good use because he's narrated several horror stories of hook-ups desperately running back to him, begging to get another taste of the seemingly endless pleasure he could offer.

and maybe you've also let your mind trail off, wondering just how big your best friend's cock really is on nights when you were especially deprived of an orgasm. but you'd smack yourself out of that dangerous train of thought before ever reaching a conclusion.

yet no amount of speculation could have prepared you for what you're seeing.

sunoo is… big. hell, maybe big isn't even the correct term.

hung. your best friend is fucking hung.

not only was it long, but now that it's free from the confines of his pants, it's clearly visible how thick and girthy he was, too. it's neatly shaven, smooth, had bulging veins that lead your eyes down to his tip that was flushed a deep pink color and glistening with pre-cum.

and his cock's so pretty—probably the prettiest one you've encountered amongst the ones you've seen online and the ones you've personally handled in real life.

your mouth waters and your pussy gushes both in worry and excitement.

"eyes up here, sweets." he teases, tipping your chin up so you'd look at his face. "you're staring so hard. if your jaw drops a little more, i'd assume you're inviting me to stick it inside that pretty mouth."

"n–no… you're too…" you trail off, unable to continue your sentence. "it's not going to fit..."

"don't worry your pretty little head about that, doll. we'll find a way. with how wet you are—" he slips his hand between your thighs, a corner of his lip tugging up at the dampness pressing against his palm. "—i don't think it's going to be much of a problem.. but i'd gladly prep my girl."

you're putty in his hands as he positions you to lay down in the middle of the bed, legs spread wide enough for him to settle in between.

he's back to being gentle, plump lips pressing frustrating featherlight kisses along your inner thighs when you're already there, already bare, and ready to be taken.

"you said that you wouldn't blue ball yourself... so why are you fucking teasing?" you grunt breathlessly in frustration, tugging on his hair.

sunoo looks at you through his lashes and his fox-like eyes look even more hypnotizing from this angle. the way he maintains eye contact as he drags his tongue to lick along the sides of your puffy lips is downright nasty.

he lets out a sigh that sounded more like it was made out of pity for you. "because you're sopping wet, baby. so messy and eager. i wanted to savor the moment a little more, but if you're so eager…"

a menacing smirk graces his lips as he braces his arms underneath your thighs. and without any more words, he buries his face right in.

the hunger he's been staving off crashes down all at once, leaving what little doubt you had for sunoo's sexual prowess to dissolve into thin air.

his mouth lays flat against your folds, lapping stripes up and down your pussy with deathly coordination. he alternates between prodding his tongue into your hole, and stroking it upwards to rub the tip against your swollen clit, eagerly flicking at the pudgy bundle of nerves.

he muffles moans against your cunt and the subtle vibrations of his mouth feel like shockwaves with how pent up and sex-deprived you are, making you whimper even louder.

"oh, fuckfuckfuck—nnngh, sunoo!"

he tightens his grip to keep you from squirming, your unashamed noises encouraging him to continue exploring the cunt he'd spent a mortifying amount of time fantasizing about. (again, you may be his best friend, but he was also just a man.)

his warm tongue pushes in and out of your hole, wanting more of the nectar only you could offer. and once his greed was satisfied half-way, he pushes two fingers inside to keep it occupied.

"shit, you're so tight… 'nd so fucking sweet. could get fucking addicted to how you taste, doll." he whispers, voice fraying at the ends.

he could spend hours between your legs just devouring you, that's how far gone he is.

his plump lips find your clit again and his fingers pump in such quick rhythm that your juices splatter, staining his chin and knuckles.

you already felt like you were on cloud nine, body floating in the air, and the obscene, slurping noises that bounced off the walls from everything that he was doing only added to that delirium.

"sunoo… fuck, your mouth's so good!" you hiccup with eyes fluttered shut from bliss, the overwhelming sensation making your back bow high while your hips roll against his mouth.

his cock jumps at the soft noises you make. you're so hot, so desperate that it was making him rut against the mattress for a semblance of friction.

"pretty fucking girl. can't believe you've been hiding this sweet little thing from me. and you're being so noisy, too.. can you hear that? hear how desperate you are, just sucking my fingers right in?"

sunoo wasn't really asking to get an answer. he was so intoxicated from the way you taste that he was just slurring compliments against your sopping pussy.

he pulls away with the lower half of his face covered and glistening with your arousal, hooded eyes zoned in on your fucked out expression. his thumb rubs your clit in tight circles before adding another finger inside, curling them inwards until each push and pull rubs on your sweet spot.

"fuck, sunoo... i—hnnnghh—sunoo!"

you're so dizzy that you couldn't muster announcing your incoming orgasm. you're just bucking your hips against his hands to meet his fingers halfway, profanities and his name leaving your swollen lips again and again.

sunoo brushes his arousal-covered lips against your inner thigh, humming proudly at the way your walls pulse and tighten around his fingers because he already knows.

"it's okay, doll. cum for me. show me how good you feel fucking yourself on my fingers."

"fuck... s–sun!"

you're gasping for air, throwing your head back against the silken pillows—then your jaw goes slack while the rest of your muscles grow taut as the euphoric feeling takes over your entire body.

sunoo continues to whisper soft reassurances against your skin as he slows down his speed and presses gentle kisses on your pulsing clit to slowly guide you down from the height of your mind-blowing orgasm.

then, he braces an arm beside your head, one hand on your jaw to get you to look at him through the hazy filter of your blissful tears.

he kisses the corner of your mouth, an act that feels far too intimate despite his mouth being glued to your pussy just mere moments ago.

"shhhh, you did so well, baby. 'm so proud of my girl. did that feel good, mm?"

you can't reply anything comprehensible. just soft sounds that resemble a vague agreement which was somehow an even better answer.

he starts kissing lower and lower down your skin, following the purple-colored trail marks he left until his lips encase your nipple again. his tongue swirls around, flicking against the sensitive and swollen buds while cum stained fingers roll the other in between them, pulling more breathy noises of protest out of you.

"sunoo, wait—i.. i just came. i can't go again—nngh, s–stop."

sunoo reaches to get a hold of his cock, running the thick head of it up and down your slit until the mix of your arousals are leaking down to the bedsheet before presses his shaft down with a thumb until the underside of it is flat against your core.

"you say you want me to stop," a mixture between a sigh and a laugh escapes his lips at the filthy sight of your pussy lips struggling to wrap around his thickness. "yet here you are... staying still and leaking all over my cock while i use you to give myself a pussy job."

he's purely relying on your bare cunt for friction. sharp jolts of overstimulation shoots through your spine each time the long, veiny shaft drags on your swollen bud as sunoo continues thrusting into the air.

you don't spit it out verbally, but desperation is oozing out of you. you're gazing at him with pleading eyes, lower lip trembling with any coherent thought slipping from your mind the harder he presses his tip to your sensitive clit.

sunoo coos, reveling at the overwhelmed tears pooling at your waterline. "my poor little girl's such a cry baby. there's nothing to be shy about. i know you want it, so just say it. say yes and i'll give you your fill."

"yes. y–yes!"

he doesn't wait for you to question yourself why you answered him so quickly nor does he allow you to process what its consequences would be. he just whispers a satisfied "good girl," before angling his hips lower to push into you.

even after spreading you open with his fingers, your walls were still clamping down, unfamiliar to the feeling of wrapping around something this big.

"you're so fucking tight, shit." he hisses, expression crumpling.

"mmh.. b–big.. 's so big," the words come out as both a compliment and a complaint.

you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, face grimaced in discomfort while tears roll from your eyes as sunoo pushes even more of himself inside you.

he pauses after seeing your sewn brows, kissing in between it. then his lips move to your cheeks, your ear, the side of your head.

he isn't really aiming, isn't really thinking.

he's just focused on distracting himself from the tight grip of your walls because he knows if he lets his body take over, it would want to take more and that would definitely hurt you.

"mmm, i know it is, baby. take deep breaths for me, okay? you're being such a good girl, taking my cock so so well.. just a few more and you'll feel so much better, baby. i'll make sure of it. can you let me make you feel good, hmm?"

you nod fervently at his promise and sunoo kisses the corner of your mouth as a reply. barely a brush of actual lip-to-lip contact.

in your daze, your eyes end up getting drawn to his lips. how plump and dewy they look.

sunoo's face is so close to yours now. barely an inch away. it would be so easy to kiss him. just a tilt of your head would close that short distance. you feel your lips already jutting out at the thought.

but a kiss—despite everything else you're doing, and have done so far—would be the most sacrilegious thing to want right now. like an act that would cross the line.

the conflict in your mind is interrupted, unable to be dwelled upon because he's pushing himself inside again and the sting shooting throughout your lower half grounds you back to the situation at hand.

"sunoo… you're—hnn, i don't.. i c–can't take more.." you drawl out, shaking your head.

"sshhh. you can, baby. i know you can. we're already so close, just.. ah—" his own brows furrowed as he looks down at where your bodies are almost connected. "—just hold on for a bit, mmkay?"

he offsets the pain by giving your tits gentle squeezes and showering you with sincere praises. "you're being so good f'me. my prettiest. 'm so proud of my favorite fucking girl.. taking so much of me already."

the amount of self-control it's taking him to be gentle with you is reflected in the tightness of his jaw as he slowly pushes the rest of his length inside, now fully nested within your snug walls.

"doll, f–fuck—you feel so good around me.. shit, you're suffocating my cock."

sunoo is damn near about to lose his mind.

you're so warm and so incredibly tight and you look so beautiful with tears in yours eyes.

he has prided himself, not only on his huge cock, but also on his impressive stamina—but right now he's spiraling, trying to think of his roommate's dirty socks, report deadlines, a sad k-drama, things that would keep him from cumming on the spot and they're barely doing the job.

"too much... 's too much, too full—!!" you cry out, walls spasming around him because they're unused to being stretched to this extent.

the reasonable part in your head is screaming "too much! too much!" and yet the deeply insatiable part of it is whispering poison in your ear, telling you want more—need more.

"shhh, 'ts okay. stay with me, baby." he whispers, tip of his nose nudging your cheek to pull you out of your short reverie. you make a broken sound to acknowledge him to which he smiles, kissing the corner of your lips again like a newly-developed habit.

the hand on your chest moves down to rub your clit in circles, lips travelling upwards to your ear to nibble at the shell of it until your soft sobs are replaced with needy mewls.

"that's right. let me take control, baby. i'll fuck all that pain away, make you feel good until you cream around my cock. you'd love that, wouldn't you?"

"y–yes, sun... wanna feel good, wan' more, please." you move your hips as best you can in blind search of more friction, cheeks flaring up when you hear the faint sound of his chuckle.

sunoo began thrusting shallowly, only pulling out a couple inches at most and gently pushing in again, considerate enough to ease you into it. when you're truly lax enough, whispering breathy pleads for more he finds a steady rhythm and starts to rock his hips.

"you're so tight, baby. s–so warm. don't go quiet on me now, mm? let me know how good i'm making you feel."

"yes, sunoo—hnnn!—it's so so good. please don't stop, baby," you give his arms encouraging squeezes and sunoo pretends his hips didn't stutter from the sudden pet name.

"i know, needy thing.. it's okay. i won't stop," his mouth trails lower once more because he seemingly can't stop himself from gravitating towards your chest.

he groans from deep within his throat and you could feel him start to move more recklessly the more he let himself slip further into his tit-drunken honest ramblings.

"mmh, i couldn't stop fucking you even if i wanted to. you're so beautiful. especially these tits—god, i love your tits s'much, baby. you don't know how insane they drive me. been wanting to see 'em so bad, you know that? you wore that top i bought you to the function last week and—ah, f–fuck—you know what i did the moment i got home?"

"mmm.. what—?"

"i fucking jerked off to the picture we took. your tits just looked so pretty," he confesses. the bluntness of his words, the way he bares out his desire and neediness for you, combined with the speed at which he's driving his throbbing cock inside is making your body tremble.

"you make me fucking pathetic, doll. got me cumming on my phone screen within minutes like a fucking teenager. shit, you piss me the fuck off."

like a switch, the anger sunoo has been holding onto comes back the moment he remembers why he's even fucking you. it's evident in the way he bites down on your nipple and in the cruel way his cock presses in so deep you swear you feel the head of it is prodding your cervix.

sunoo fixes his posture, tightens his grips on your hips until his knuckles turn white from the way he digs down your skin. now with leverage, he vents out all harbored irritation he has for you and your ex in quick, harsh thrusts.

"putting your body on display for my eyes like that and asking me of all people to help you in your evil little scheme few days after—but now... look at you. moaning like a slut under me, getting dumb for my cock. you're just as pathetic as i am."

it's supposed to be punishment, but it doesn't really feel like one when all it does is push you closer to the brink of another orgasm, your mind so hazy that your words come out slurred and almost incoherent.

"no—hnngh—n–no, 'm not!"

"really?" he's cocky now, a dangerous glint in his eyes when he pulls hips back far enough and slams it inside in one smooth push.

your eyelids screw shut, brows sewn together, mouth forming into a small o as his cock literally knocks air out of you. "oh my god—!!"

"all that effort for revenge just to end up like this... you are pathetic, baby," he chuckles, driving into your harder. "and all your facade of being the girl on top? the girl in power? down the fucking drain, because you do like being used—you love getting used by me. no toys, no ex, no lame fuck buddy could compare to your best friend's cock."

he threw that title to shame you for wanting him so obviously. from getting wet from his words, his mouth, his touch, his cock. not your ex's or your lame fuck buddies'—his.

and it's working.

he knows the shame is eating at you, turning you needier and hungrier. and he knows you're drunk on his cock so uses this newfound weapon against you—abruptly stopping with it still deeply inside.

"go ahead… admit it, doll." he gives you a condescending nod. a movement that says he isn't going to move until you could swallow down your pride.

you couldn't hold back a frustrated cry. your nails dig at his back in frustration, acrylic clawing into his smooth and fair skin as you pull him down until his face is barely meeting yours.

"don't you dare do this now, sunoo. stop teasing me and just fucking put it back in!"

the seriousness in your glared eyes causes a humorless chuckle to leave his lips.

"ah, you were so good for me just a while ago. what happened to my sweet girl? you know being a demanding brat doesn't work on me—it may have worked on the little fucktoys you have on your roster, but not on me."

a slow and filthy shlick sound echoes from between your bodies as he deliberately pulls himself out.

he watches with predatory hunger as you squirm and hopelessly grind your hips against the air, unused to the absence of his thick cock spreading you open.

"you either say it properly, or you don't get it at all."

"w–wait, no.." you squeeze his shoulders, looking up at him with pleading eyes. heat and shame and need flares up all over your body while he looks at you with a cruel smirk. "i want to... fuck, what do you want me to say?"

sunoo's free hand reaches up to hold your jaw. his eyes stare into yours and you know by the firmness of his grip that he has enough patience to keep dragging out this torturous game.

"you already know what you want, doll. you just have to say it. say you love being used. say you love my cock. matter of fact, if you want it so bad... then fucking beg for it."

you nibble down on your lower lip, heart sinking at his command before finally echoing out his words with a defeated tone.

"i love… being used by you. and i want your cock to fill me up again…"

"mmm, i couldn't hear you, baby. there's not much begging from what i heard either." he prods with a fake sigh, pushing his cock back inside your gummy walls again but not fucking you with more than the tip just to see how much you'd break.

your jaw is clenched, hips moving in desperate rolls and yet it wasn't enough to satisfy you—not after feeling him entirely. pride and reputation fully compromised, you finally sob out.

"please, sunoo!" you cry, pleading. "i want your cock.. i love it and i love being used by you so please use me however you want! just—just need you to make me cum. need you to make me take it, please!"

sunoo's heart swells at the desperation in your voice, ego boosted far beyond what he could've believed.

"would you look at that? my best friend, the university's resident vixen, actually begging like a good girl." he coos with faux-sympathy before ramming inside you in a single thrust.

he doesn't let you adjust to it anymore—if you were begging for it so loudly, he'd let you take every single merciless slam he gives.

his long cock drags against your slippery walls, getting you empty only to fill you whole again, the strength of his hips snapping into you making your body rock forward each time.

"oh my gosh, sunoo—yes! you're so deep inside me, fuck, please don't stop!" you chant his name in dragged out mewls, loud and unashamed.

the blacks of his eyes drown out the amber, pupils dilated at the sight of your restless hands pushing and kneading your bouncing tits together while your fingers roll the stiff buds around in quick circles—something he's only ever fantasized in the privacy of his own mind, now made true right before him.

"that's right, baby… keep playing with your tits f'me. give me a show." he rasps, voice thick with satisfaction.

like a reward, he hooks your legs to his shoulders and leans forward to where each slam of his cock would brush against the special spot that had you seeing pure white.

"sunoo—nngh, please... there! just like that... more! h–harder, please!"

he clicks his tongue against his teeth in pretend disdain, but he's beyond pleased at how vocal you are. "greedy girl, already taking a lot and still wanting more... maybe this is what you should send him, hmm? i bet he'd get the message loud and clear when he sees how good you're being for me, all pliant and dumb and needy for my cock."

the memory of your ex doesn't even sting, doesn't make you feel anything. there's no room for it when you feel so good, and so overwhelmingly full.

all you could focus on is sunoo, how handsome and sharp he looks when he's this possessive. sweat rolling down his toned torso, faint line of his abs showing each time he bottoms out, the dull shine on his lips that's making it look much more delectable than it ever has.

you're intoxicated from the pure bliss of his length hitting all the right spots that you let go of all inhibitions. you don't care anymore. you grab sunoo's shoulders and slur out, "k–kiss.. i wan' kiss, baby..."

his expression softens, thrusts faltering briefly as your breaths mingle in that narrow space between your lips. you look into his eyes, catching lust and something deeper you can't pinpoint before he finally seals your lips together.

you hold on his nape, keeping him close while he bites on your lower lip gently to make you part your lips, giving his tongue the opportunity to lick and swirl around your wet cavern.

it feels so easy to melt into it, having achieved what you've been fantasizing about since feeling his mouth on your skin.

the intimacy of the position, the feeling of his fingers brushing up your forearm so he could take your hands and pin it beside your head, the sound of skin slapping mixed with the intermittent gasps for air both of you take before going back to the messy kiss—it's all adding to the tight coil deep down your abdomen.

sunoo's fingers laces through yours and he pulls back slowly. "fuck, doll, y–you—" his words are interrupted by a hiss, eyes moving to look at the way his cock disappears into you. "feel so fucking good, shit—you're taking my cock like a good girl."

you feel so fuzzy, so lightheaded and sunoo's voice is the only thing keeping you from floating out of your body.

"y–your good girl," you nod your head, squeezing on your interlocked palms to gain his attention back, lips already pouted. "i'm yours, 'm yours! so keep making me take it and keep kissing me, please.."

you're begging so prettily, pushing all the right buttons to get his heart fluttering that sunoo has no other choice but to give in even if he knows it'll be the end of him to taste your lips like that again.

you let him muffle your noises, swallowing down all the high pitched whines and moans. he moves his hips faster, harder, despite the tender way his lips move against yours.

"my good girl's so pretty.. tight pussy's so good at taking me like it wants me to mold it to the shape of my cock." his voice is gravel-like when he whispers praises after pulling away.

your legs subconsciously wrap around his hips in fear that he'd pull the rug under you again. you tighten you legs around him, keeping him as close as possible when the pressure in your tummy begins burning too hot.

"sunoo, i'm gonna... please.. please! 's too much.. i'm—i'm going to cum!"

the whispers of his name turn into cries, only smothered when you bite down into his shoulder. sunoo lets out a pained groan, yet does nothing to move from you. instead, he drives into your faster, ruthlessly pushing you towards your peak.

he whispers sweetly, "i know, baby. fuck, i'm close too—let go and cum again f'me, pretty. make a mess on this cock, yeah?"

his voice unravels you, your second orgasm of the night coming down on your helpless body in a violent crash.

your muscles lock up as you coat his cock in your cum, eyes rolling to the back of your head, plump lips that were still shiny from the spit you shared parting to take heavy breaths.

the sight of you looking so fucked out snips at whatever thread of restraint he has left.

sunoo couldn't think, couldn't control himself from pushing into you again. he kept grunting under his breath, hips pistoning in and out of your pulsing hole, determined to chase after his own release.

"so pretty… so fucking beautiful.."

he hurriedly pulls himself out, scooting closer to you with fingers tightly coiled around his length in a pathetic attempt to imitate the warmth and tightness of your walls.

"fuck... shit—you look so fucking pretty, baby. i'm gonna mark you up, cum on your tits and make you all fucking mine."

the way he fucks his fist makes a filthy fapfapfap sound echo out. his thighs are clenching from the delicious burn of friction and his hips lose their pace.

your name finally comes out of his lips in a shaky growl as his cum spurts out in thick, translucent ropes across your heaving chest.

sunoo takes a mental image of that obscene view, keeping an eternal copy in the back of his mind before blindly reaching for his shirt so he could wipe off the mess he made.

after a while, you feel him slump down beside you, taking heavy breaths, completely and utterly spent.

you make your move to scoot closer to him, back pressed to his chest, curling into the open arms he's prepared for you.

his arms coil around your waist like a habit, sharp nose pressed on your nape with a palm splayed on your tummy. warm, familiar, and homey.

a smile graces his lips as he gets a waft of your hair's scent—citrus and berry.

"you're using the shampoo."

"what?"

"the shampoo i got you from the farmer's market last month. you said it's gross because you don't want to walk around smelling like pastry, but you're using it."

"it grew on me, i guess."

"it grew back on you." sunoo clarifies, hooking his chin over your shoulder with a gentle smile. "remember when we were fourteen and you asked my sister the recipe for her lemon blueberry cupcakes?"

heat rushes to your cheeks at the memory but you brush it off, turning around to face him. "that's such an obscure memory pull, sunoo."

he keeps his hold on you, fingers pressing on the small of your back. he shrugged, leaning forward to press his nose on your hairline, making a dramatic sniff to tease.

"it's what i remembered when i bought it for you—all i'm saying is i'm glad you're using it."

the action causes his lips to brush against your forehead and it reminds you of the kiss—that kiss. the way you begged for it, and the way he indulged your fantasy without hesitation.

the loud, insistent thought to kiss him again fills your mind. and like telepathy, he's pressing a kiss on your forehead, another to your cheek, then another to the corner of your mouth.

but just before you think he's about to kiss your lips... he pauses.

your breath hitches and you look so small, so confused. a part of his heart cramps up when you stare at him with such soft, hopeful eyes.

anticipation and fear both come as a single force, pushing him to press his lips on yours.

this isn't messy like the ones you did ago—no tongue, no moaning, no whispers of filth in between.

there's something much more innocent and clean in the way he's kissing you this time.

your heart flutters, warmth thrumming under your skin as your mind and body comes to an unshakeable conclusion: in comparison to the kisses you've shared with every fleeting hook-up and every romantic figure in your life, only this kiss—the one you're sharing with your best friend—feels right.

you part from each other, breathless and equally pink in the face.

he looks into your eyes with same, charged intensity like before. except this time, it makes him look unreadable. all of a sudden, dread settles in your stomach. heavy and suffocating.

what does this mean?

the fucking, the making out, and the possessive words sprinkled in between his body claiming yours—you believe it could all be somehow excused as things done in the heat of the moment.

but when all of it is said and done, and you're both naked under your blanket, limbs tangled together, looking at each other after sharing something that feels much more pure and intimate than anything either of you had ever done before...

fuck.

what does this mean?

what does all of this mean?

sunoo breaks through your overthinking with a confession.

"i want you. i think... i've wanted you, this, a long long while ago."

you stare at him, wide eyed, heart slamming against your chest. in utter disbelief, you ask him, "w–what? sunoo, what do you mean—"

he pauses, his eyes widening like he's also surprised of the truth that just left his his lips. he persists, nonetheless.

"i mean sometimes i look at you and don't know what to do with myself. sometimes... you walk around me in tiny shorts and the tightest fucking tops and i can't function because all i can think about is bending you over and making you scream my name, but above all that ape-brain bullshit of wanting to fuck you silly—i get pissed,"

his eyes screw shut and he pulls you in with a hand gently cradling the back of your head. he guides you to press your face to his chest so you wouldn't be a witness to the pain of his suppressed feelings violently getting torn out of him, one confession after the next.

"i get pissed and offended on your behalf.. when other people don't treat you right. even at their best, you deserve more than what they could do. and i've gaslit myself into thinking i only feel so strongly about your feelings and your well-being because i'm your friend. your best friend. and we've been at each others side since god knows when—"

he takes a deep breath in and hugs you tighter, sighing softly.

"but marking you up... and kissing you and making you feel good and calling you mine... it all felt too good. too right. i can't deny it anymore, doll. i.. i've wanted you all to myself for so long and now that i got a taste of it, i don't think i can keep lying to myself anymore. or to you."

the air that still reeked of sex turns heavy while you stare at one another.

there's a long pause, the previous noise now thinned out into an almost ear-splitting silence.

sunoo sobers up from his own confession, pulls back, and cradles your cheeks, stroking the skin gently with his thumb with worry written all over his face.

"talk to me, baby. i can't do this... you know i don't like it when you get in your head. let me in there, mm?"

instead of answering him, your first instinct is to press your palm over his chest, right where you feel the almost violent drumming of his heart.

"would.." you purse your lips, murmuring softly. "would things between us change if i admit i want you too?"

sunoo shakes his head, unable to fight the soft, genuine smile tugging on his lips. "not if you don't want it to."

"can i still watch movies sitting your lap?"

"mhm."

"and it won't be weird if i ask for kisses every now and then?"

"nope." he answers, making a popping sound with his lips. "i'd prefer it if you asked for more, actually."

your blush deepens, but you pry further. "and i could still go to you for a hundred and one percent honest advice if i'm not sure about my outfit?"

"only if you'll let me fuck you in it when it looks too good."

you gasp, smacking his chest with a giggle. "sunoo!"

he laughs heartily, forcing your violent hands to wrap around him instead. "i'm only half-joking, baby. you know you always get what you want anyway."

"damn right i do." you slump in his hold, snuggling closer against him when the whole revenge plan pops up in your mind. "oh.. um..."

"yes, doll?"

"should i still take a photo? you know, for the.. thing."

a devious smirk tugs on sunoo's lips but he hides it by burying his face in your hair. "you don't need to worry about that right now, baby. i'll take care of it like i always do. go to sleep, mm?"

"mmkay.."

"i love you, doll." he tenderly whispered against your forehead.

you bite back a smile, pulling him closer. "i love you too, baby."

sunoo was a different animal now that he's been promoted from being a best friend to a not-quite-boyfriend-yet lover.

you were tended to, treated like a princess and treated you like something a little less than one in bed when he figured out you loved getting humiliated quite a bit more than you led on.

he fed you, made you laugh, took pictures of you, and made you take pictures together.

for memories, he said.

you nodded, not suspecting anything at all.

he was cuter, more clingy and needy and so eager to get you focused on him that he didn't allow you to look at your phone, not even once.

so just spent the entire day together as usual.

and now, sunoo's already snoring behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, nose pressed into your shoulder after yet another stellar performance between your thighs.

your phone rang like it's reminded you of its existence. you reach for it slowly as to not disturb your lover, confused at the texts from your friends, all congratulating you for finally settling with the guy who's been there all along.

you realized it was due to sunoo and the instagram story he mentioned you in—the same picture he made you take. it was a cute and possessive photo, far better than what you had planned to show off your ex.

the reminder of him startles you.

you're so in love, so strung on the high of breaking free from the friend zone that in pursuit of making more space for memories with sunoo, your brain had pushed any vicious feeling you had towards seojun and the plot you brewed against him out of your mind.

but now that you've reminded yourself of him, you oddly feel... nothing.

you tap on your screen to go to your conversation with seojun.

you weren't going to do anything malicious. you just wanted to read through your final conversation again and confirm that you didn't have any leftover anger or desire to prove your worth.

you expected to see your hate-filled texts, but instead, you got the messages sunoo sent to him on your behalf.

seojun still wanted you, still cared enough to barrage you with questions and clear it out with a talk. you thought you'd feel something because he got mad.

instead, you felt nothing at all.

the only reason for the wicked smile on your lips was because you adored how cruel sunoo gets when he's possessive, going as far as giving your ex proof of your relationship in the form of your breathless moans while sunoo fucked your brain numb for the second time.

filthy, hot, possessive, and completely yours.

getting back at your ex was what you initially planned for, but getting fucked (and confessed to) by your best friend was what you got instead—and that's probably most fulfilling outcome you could have ever imagined.

because, yeah.

happiness really is sweeter than revenge.

FROM YAN 🐰 ➤ this birthday fic is for my favorite boy, my husband, and the absolute love of my life kim sunoo. happy birthday, my love. ♡ + peep the angel number word count? yeah, that's sunoo sending me his love n approval !! >< and um.. i kinda went insane on this, if u can't tell by the tags.. i also had to revise a few scenes but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out hehe. this is also for the kim sunoo luvbots nation WE ON THE UP UPPPSSSS !!! + my special sunshine, my sunoo-loving twin, bini sol: if ur out there reeding this, this is also for you. imy and ily. < 3

PERMANENT TAGLIST  ➤  @mariegibeau @kristynaaah @ikeukiss @zerocoded @alex-is-sleeping @ntxs1 @angelhyuka @tsukheeshima @clxssy1997 @cripplinghooman @xoxo-seraphine @jakeycakeys @neozon3nha @jakeycakeys @vmpiricou @ja4hyvn @luv4dani @nightcat101 @wonkiipiilled @boundlesselixirflux @cokewithcameron @taesungx @aerrdeicall @meikstv @justpassingdontworry @firstclassjaylee

he needed you. There was no time for foreplay. He immediately pulled you onto his lap, grabbing your hips possessively. He kissed you like he hadn’t eaten in days. Wet, sloppy, hungry kisses.

He slipped a hand under your shirt, helping you slide it over your head before helping you unbuckle your bra, discarding it somewhere around the room.

you slid your panties off, followed by your skimpy skirt. You were too busy taking your own clothes off that you didn’t realize that he had already slipped off his sweatpants.

His hard length standing up tall, leaking with pre-cum and throbbing like crazy. he helped you position yourself on top of him, sliding his cock up and down your slit, coating it in your wetness. you were a little scared to ride him because usually he’s the one in control of how much of him you take, but this time it would be on your command. “ sit on it slowly, baby. I’ve got you.”

He held his cock steady for you, the thick head pressing against your entrance. “Just breathe and lower yourself. I'm not going anywhere." His thumbs spread your ass cheeks apart as you positioned yourself. "That's it... good girl." The tip pushed inside.

You gasped as his tip stretched you wide. He was thick .. thicker than any toy you'd ever used. You slowly sank down, inch by inch, his width filling you completely. His hands gripped your hips tighter as you took more and more of him. “Holy... fuck,” he grounded “ been missing this pussy.”

You paused halfway down, your thighs trembling as you adjusted to his size. He saw the hesitation and rubbed your lower back soothingly. “Breathe, princess. You're doing so well." He urged your hips down further, helping you sink until your ass was resting against his thighs. "See? You took all of it." His thumbs stroked your hipbones.

Once you were fully seated, he gave you a moment to catch your breath. Then he lifted his hips slightly, pulling out until only the tip remained inside you before snapping them back up again. The sudden movement made you cry out at the intense sensation of being stretched so wide again. "Now ride me.”

so you did. after a while You were bouncing on his lap, your breasts shaking with each impact. he fucked up into you matching your rhythm while still guiding you gently by the hips . He watched you intently, He could feel your inner walls fluttering around him as you got closer and closer. "That's it... let go for me, baby.”

Your walls clenched around his thick cock, your orgasm washing over you in waves. You collapsed forward onto his chest, your pussy milking his length. He kept his hips raised, keeping you fully impaled on him. "Good girl," he praised, his hand rubbing circles on your back as you rode out your climax. "Now it's my turn."

he continued fucking up into your overstimulated, dripping pussy, causing you to yelp and jump back up. he kept hitting that spot that made your vision blur and with you being still sensitive from your previous orgasm, it felt like you were floating. it didn’t take long before he was gasping and groaning , filling you up , shooting hot , thick ropes of cum straight into you.

you collapse onto his chest, completely fucked out while he strokes your back soothingly to try to calm you down. after you both catch your breath , he chuckles ,

“ think anyone heard us?”

People watch as he walks to you, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet and short kiss.

Puzzled looks and whispers form around you he was far too used to it all.

I mean is it everyday you see a tatted and pierced man who looks emotional constipated act so soft and sweet to someone— well that someone being his girlfriend.

You on the other hand always scolded him for his PDA, you hated the attention but Sunoo loved pissing those miserable people off too much to not hold your hand and follow you like a lost puppy guard dog.

You fix your glasses, "told you to quit the smoking."

"Sorry, baby." He smiles sheepishly throwing a hand over your shoulders, the hint of the mint he chewed after barely did much to conceal the lingering taste of smoke.

"You're lucky I like you." You grumble under your breath.

Sunoo chuckles ruffling your hair.

This was your dynamic, nothing was truly strange about it, cliché however? perchance.

After he walks you to your building he leans down to place another chaste kiss before running to catch up to his own.

He always ran late just to spend a little more time with you not caring for the professor yelling at him to be on time.

He loved you loudly and shamelessly but in the quiet moments when nobody else was there to watch his love became impossibly softer and more raw, the expectations of reality all melt away with his worries in your presence.

You were each other's anchor but you were also painfully aware of how others looked at you in questioning at first you hid it but soon you realized you can't let anyone dictate how or who you should love.

You were always more of the quiet type, keeping most of your energy outbursts in private when your favorite game had a new release, or when you unexpectedly received good grade for a quiz you weren't that confident in, or when you get to sit and ramble about the newest thing you learned recently, hands all animated and expressive, your guard completely down.

It is in moments like those where you can see the love pour right out of Sunoo's eyes. His usual stoic and uninterested demeanor nowhere to be seen.

It is in moments like these where Sunoo realizes the ugly feeling creeping under his bones— possession.

Sunoo would never control you or want to. However, when you aren't around his soft eyes become darker, his face turned into an unreadable expression that demanded respect, the piercings on his eyebrow and lips only made him appear more intimidating.

…

"Did I not tell you to stop bothering her already?" His voice calm. Too calm.

That was the terrifying thing about Sunoo, he never needed to raise his voice to make a point.

"What are you going to do about it?" The man spoke with annoyance.

Sunoo just nodded stepping closer to him, never once breaking eye contact.

The man became more nervous under his fierce gaze.

"What was that?" Sunoo asked, not really expecting an answer.

He tapped the man's shoulder's with a smile that sent shivers down the others' spine.

With more force he pushed the man into his knees with a clean blow on his stomach until blood dribbled from his mouth.

"This is your last warning." Sunoo whispered in his ear, yanking his face away in pure disgust.

He ignored the bruises in his hands from how hard he kept hitting him that night.

You questioned his bruises but he reassured you it was from boxing. He just never said from what.

"Did you see how Y/n's creepy ex avoided her today during lunch?" One student whispered.

"I know right! That assholes must've finally got the hint, I can't believe he had the guts to cheat on her and try to come back." The other student whispered back shaking her head.

Sunoo's lips lifted into a smirk.

He knew your ex was bothering you all semester but you didn't want to bother your boyfriend. You were too kind and caring but Sunoo? Sunoo would burn the whole world just to keep your smile glowing, the smile he wanted to keep all to himself most days.

He noticed it all, how your tense shoulders and creased eyebrows were finally soothed, body no longer needed to be on full alert but it was always like this, any problems you had somehow all managed to disappear one by one.

Sunoo and you were walking back home when he assured you to go first one day, saying something about leaving something important behind.

You reluctantly agreed but little did he know that you were hiding in a corner watching him disappear into one of the dark alleys, you didn't know why but your gut felt something suspicious.

"So you finally show your face?" A thug spoke, spitting on the ground.

You grimace at the sight.

Five guys stood buffing their shoulders to look tougher. You silently watch the exchange.

"Came back for seconds I see?" Sunoo's indifferent attitude seemed to piss them off more.

"Or did I not beat up your boss hard enough?" He tilted his head to look at the guy hiding behind the others in fear.

You squint your eyes, slapping your mouth to stop the gasp from leaving your lips.

It was your ex.

Second beating?

It all somehow clicks to you in that moment, the bruises on his knuckles that night and the look of fear your ex has been giving you, no longer bothering you when you weren't with Sunoo, even running away from you.

Your heart was beating louder and louder watching one of the guys cuss out Sunoo while running to attack him.

Your nerves were on fire refusing to look away for a second.

Then you caught it, the faint silver glimmer.

Sunoo reacts faster than your brain, he catches the blade with his bare hand, the blood splattering on his fingers tainting the black nails you painted the night before while giggling and yapping about the newest thing you found as he patiently listened to you.

Your blood ran cold at the memory in contrast to the sight in front of you now.

Your feet shook and lungs screamed at you to run and call for help but it all happened so fast—

Sunoo let out a grunt, managing to somehow stun the wannabe thugs and steal the knife, pointing it to the guy's neck, completely ignoring his own injury.

"Well," he kicked his knees from the back until he fell in a pained groan. Sunoo pressed the knife closer to his skin until it nicked him a little, the others watched in fear already raising the white flag but Sunoo wasn't done yet.

"I told you last time that it was your last warning but it seems like you don't get it yet." Sunoo's low voice sent shivers down their spine and yours. You had never seen this sight of him before.

You anxiously bit your bottom lip until you tasted the metallic.

He pressed the blade further to prove a point.

"O-OKAY MAN YOU WIN W-WE WON'T BOTHER YOU OR HER ANYMORE PLEASE—" Your ex cried in fear on his knees repenting.

Coward

After a moment Sunoo put the knife away in his pocket, wiping the blood from his hands on the guy's jacket before kicking his back sending him back to his scared mates.

"Next time, your head is on the line." Sunoo promised as they all nodded and ran in fear.

He sighed looking down at his hand.

"You can come out now" He spoke suddenly.

Your eyes widen but you quickly step away from the janky wall.

Sunoo looks at you with a sheepishly smile, eyes no longer holding that darkness from before, they were softer around the edges now.

You quickly grab his arm and lead him to your apartment, he knew what your silence meant and didn't want to push you.

"Are you scared of me now?" Sunoo asked as you silently attended to his wounds with a frown, you finally face him, slapping his shoulder.

"Dumbass," you slap him again, "dumbass, dumbass, dumbass—"

Sunoo carefully grabbed your wrist with his clean hand and put in on his chest instead, his heart beating just as fast as yours.

"You can hit me all you want, baby, just don't shut me out."

He wiped the tears escaping your eyes now. Resting his forehead against yours, devotion seeping right out of his eyes into your soul.

He leaned closer, tongue gently swiping the blood away from your lip, the sensation of his cold piercing sending chills down your spine.

"Don't do that again." You whisper warning him though your voice quivered he kissed your hand and your eyes next

"I will try." He said.

He couldn't promise you that he won't do it again because Sunoo would burn the world for you even if you didn't ask.

──────────────────────

© jwimura | likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡

People watch as he walks to you, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet and short kiss.

Puzzled looks and whispers form around you he was far too used to it all.

I mean is it everyday you see a tatted and pierced man who looks emotional constipated act so soft and sweet to someone— well that someone being his girlfriend.

You on the other hand always scolded him for his PDA, you hated the attention but Sunoo loved pissing those miserable people off too much to not hold your hand and follow you like a lost puppy guard dog.

You fix your glasses, "told you to quit the smoking."

"Sorry, baby." He smiles sheepishly throwing a hand over your shoulders, the hint of the mint he chewed after barely did much to conceal the lingering taste of smoke.

"You're lucky I like you." You grumble under your breath.

Sunoo chuckles ruffling your hair.

This was your dynamic, nothing was truly strange about it, cliché however? perchance.

After he walks you to your building he leans down to place another chaste kiss before running to catch up to his own.

He always ran late just to spend a little more time with you not caring for the professor yelling at him to be on time.

He loved you loudly and shamelessly but in the quiet moments when nobody else was there to watch his love became impossibly softer and more raw, the expectations of reality all melt away with his worries in your presence.

You were each other's anchor but you were also painfully aware of how others looked at you in questioning at first you hid it but soon you realized you can't let anyone dictate how or who you should love.

You were always more of the quiet type, keeping most of your energy outbursts in private when your favorite game had a new release, or when you unexpectedly received good grade for a quiz you weren't that confident in, or when you get to sit and ramble about the newest thing you learned recently, hands all animated and expressive, your guard completely down.

It is in moments like those where you can see the love pour right out of Sunoo's eyes. His usual stoic and uninterested demeanor nowhere to be seen.

It is in moments like these where Sunoo realizes the ugly feeling creeping under his bones— possession.

Sunoo would never control you or want to. However, when you aren't around his soft eyes become darker, his face turned into an unreadable expression that demanded respect, the piercings on his eyebrow and lips only made him appear more intimidating.

…

"Did I not tell you to stop bothering her already?" His voice calm. Too calm.

That was the terrifying thing about Sunoo, he never needed to raise his voice to make a point.

"What are you going to do about it?" The man spoke with annoyance.

Sunoo just nodded stepping closer to him, never once breaking eye contact.

The man became more nervous under his fierce gaze.

"What was that?" Sunoo asked, not really expecting an answer.

He tapped the man's shoulder's with a smile that sent shivers down the others' spine.

With more force he pushed the man into his knees with a clean blow on his stomach until blood dribbled from his mouth.

"This is your last warning." Sunoo whispered in his ear, yanking his face away in pure disgust.

He ignored the bruises in his hands from how hard he kept hitting him that night.

You questioned his bruises but he reassured you it was from boxing. He just never said from what.

"Did you see how Y/n's creepy ex avoided her today during lunch?" One student whispered.

"I know right! That assholes must've finally got the hint, I can't believe he had the guts to cheat on her and try to come back." The other student whispered back shaking her head.

Sunoo's lips lifted into a smirk.

He knew your ex was bothering you all semester but you didn't want to bother your boyfriend. You were too kind and caring but Sunoo? Sunoo would burn the whole world just to keep your smile glowing, the smile he wanted to keep all to himself most days.

He noticed it all, how your tense shoulders and creased eyebrows were finally soothed, body no longer needed to be on full alert but it was always like this, any problems you had somehow all managed to disappear one by one.

Sunoo and you were walking back home when he assured you to go first one day, saying something about leaving something important behind.

You reluctantly agreed but little did he know that you were hiding in a corner watching him disappear into one of the dark alleys, you didn't know why but your gut felt something suspicious.

"So you finally show your face?" A thug spoke, spitting on the ground.

You grimace at the sight.

Five guys stood buffing their shoulders to look tougher. You silently watch the exchange.

"Came back for seconds I see?" Sunoo's indifferent attitude seemed to piss them off more.

"Or did I not beat up your boss hard enough?" He tilted his head to look at the guy hiding behind the others in fear.

You squint your eyes, slapping your mouth to stop the gasp from leaving your lips.

It was your ex.

Second beating?

It all somehow clicks to you in that moment, the bruises on his knuckles that night and the look of fear your ex has been giving you, no longer bothering you when you weren't with Sunoo, even running away from you.

Your heart was beating louder and louder watching one of the guys cuss out Sunoo while running to attack him.

Your nerves were on fire refusing to look away for a second.

Then you caught it, the faint silver glimmer.

Sunoo reacts faster than your brain, he catches the blade with his bare hand, the blood splattering on his fingers tainting the black nails you painted the night before while giggling and yapping about the newest thing you found as he patiently listened to you.

Your blood ran cold at the memory in contrast to the sight in front of you now.

Your feet shook and lungs screamed at you to run and call for help but it all happened so fast—

Sunoo let out a grunt, managing to somehow stun the wannabe thugs and steal the knife, pointing it to the guy's neck, completely ignoring his own injury.

"Well," he kicked his knees from the back until he fell in a pained groan. Sunoo pressed the knife closer to his skin until it nicked him a little, the others watched in fear already raising the white flag but Sunoo wasn't done yet.

"I told you last time that it was your last warning but it seems like you don't get it yet." Sunoo's low voice sent shivers down their spine and yours. You had never seen this sight of him before.

You anxiously bit your bottom lip until you tasted the metallic.

He pressed the blade further to prove a point.

"O-OKAY MAN YOU WIN W-WE WON'T BOTHER YOU OR HER ANYMORE PLEASE—" Your ex cried in fear on his knees repenting.

Coward

After a moment Sunoo put the knife away in his pocket, wiping the blood from his hands on the guy's jacket before kicking his back sending him back to his scared mates.

"Next time, your head is on the line." Sunoo promised as they all nodded and ran in fear.

He sighed looking down at his hand.

"You can come out now" He spoke suddenly.

Your eyes widen but you quickly step away from the janky wall.

Sunoo looks at you with a sheepishly smile, eyes no longer holding that darkness from before, they were softer around the edges now.

You quickly grab his arm and lead him to your apartment, he knew what your silence meant and didn't want to push you.

"Are you scared of me now?" Sunoo asked as you silently attended to his wounds with a frown, you finally face him, slapping his shoulder.

"Dumbass," you slap him again, "dumbass, dumbass, dumbass—"

Sunoo carefully grabbed your wrist with his clean hand and put in on his chest instead, his heart beating just as fast as yours.

"You can hit me all you want, baby, just don't shut me out."

He wiped the tears escaping your eyes now. Resting his forehead against yours, devotion seeping right out of his eyes into your soul.

He leaned closer, tongue gently swiping the blood away from your lip, the sensation of his cold piercing sending chills down your spine.

"Don't do that again." You whisper warning him though your voice quivered he kissed your hand and your eyes next

"I will try." He said.

He couldn't promise you that he won't do it again because Sunoo would burn the world for you even if you didn't ask.

──────────────────────

© jwimura | likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who guilt-trips you so gently it feels like love “I’m always thinking about you even when I’m busy… but you don’t seem to think about me the same way. Do you even miss me when I’m gone?”

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who isolates you with cute excuses “Let’s just stay home together tonight, okay? The others don’t understand how special we are. It’s just us against the world, my love.”

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who love-bombs you after every fight with adorable gifts, homemade snacks, and endless cuddles while whispering “I’m sorry I just get so scared you’ll leave me for someone better.”

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who gets quietly possessive, smiling sweetly in public while his hand squeezes yours a little too tightly whenever someone talks to you.

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who weaponizes his cuteness big watery eyes, soft pouts, and that angelic voice saying “You’re being mean to me again…” until you feel guilty for setting boundaries.

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who fucks you with a deceivingly sweet smile while saying the filthiest things in his soft voice “You look so pretty crying for me… does my baby like being used like this?”

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who edges you for hours using his pretty fingers and tongue, cooing softly every time you beg “Aww, not yet angel good girls wait patiently for their reward.”

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who loves marking your chest and neck with pretty pink and purple hickeys, then admiring them later while tracing them with his fingertips “Look how well my mouth fits on you.”

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who makes you ride him while he lies back looking angelic, hands on your waist guiding you exactly how he wants “Faster, baby… show me how much you need me.”

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who whispers sweet degradation while he’s deep inside you “Such a needy little thing… acting innocent all day but creaming on my cock the second we’re alone.”

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who overstimulates you until you’re shaking and sobbing, then kisses your tears away while still moving his hips “Shh, just a little more you can take it for me, right my pretty girl?”

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who cums inside you and then keeps his cock buried deep, rocking slowly while murmuring “I’m filling you up so you remember who you belong to all night.”

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who enjoys pulling your hair gently but firmly when he fucks you from behind, tilting your head back to kiss your neck while thrusting hard.

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who teases your clit with slow circles while he’s inside you, forcing you to cum again and again until your voice is hoarse from moaning his name.

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who loves making you suck on his fingers while he fucks you, eyes sparkling as he watches “Good girl… taste how sweet you are for me.”

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who fucks you in the softest, most loving positions but with rough intensity — missionary so he can watch your face, legs wrapped around his waist as he pounds into you.

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who switches between angelically sweet and mean in the same breath calling you “my angel” while slapping your thigh and telling you to “take it like a good slut.”

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who enjoys light choking with his delicate hands, pressing just enough while smiling down at you “Breathe when I allow it, okay baby?”

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who makes you thank him after every orgasm in the cutest voice, cooing when you obey “That’s my polite girl… say it again.”

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who loves leaving bite marks on your inner thighs, then kissing them softly like he’s sorry while getting hard again at the sight.

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who teases your entrance with just the tip for so long that you start crying, then slides in slowly while whispering “See? Only I can make you feel like this.”

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who holds you close after wrecking you, cuddling you like a plushie while stroking your hair and murmuring “I’m sorry for being difficult… but you’re mine forever, right?”

toxicboyfriend!sunoo who comes home with a bright smile, but one small thing triggers him. He switches to silent mode, pouting and ignoring you until you’re in tears, hugging him and promising you only want him.

The moment you break, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you softly at first, then deeper. He undresses you gently, eating you out with his skilled tongue until you’re trembling, then fucks you slow and deep while staring into your eyes with that angelic yet dangerous gaze.

He makes you cum multiple times, filling you up while whispering sweet filthy words. Afterward he cuddles you tightly, kissing your forehead and saying “See? We’re perfect when you don’t make me sad.”

You fall asleep sore, covered in pretty marks, full of his cum, feeling guilty yet safe in his warm, deceptively soft embrace.

You had just finished swimming, and your so-called friends had ditched you without a word. Annoyed but too tired to care, you grabbed your towel and spare clothes, heading straight for the showers.

You glanced at the signs on the two stalls. Both looked like female symbols. Without thinking twice, you pushed open the door and stepped inside. The nameplate on the front had slipped off earlier, revealing the truth this was the men’s bathroom.

It was quiet and empty. You chose the last stall, pulled the curtain shut, and quickly peeled off your wet pink sporty swimwear. The cool air brushed against your bare skin as you set the swimsuit aside. Completely naked now, you turned on the shower, letting the warm water cascade over your body. You ran your fingers through your wet hair, rinsing off the chlorine, when you suddenly realized you had forgotten your soap and shampoo.

Just then, you heard footsteps. Someone had entered the bathroom.

Luckily, you spotted a bottle of school-provided soap and shampoo on the small shelf inside the stall. You turned off the shower, wrapped one arm loosely across your chest, and peeked out from behind the curtain — just enough to show your wet hair and bare shoulders.

“Excuse me, can you please—”

Your voice died in your throat.

It wasn’t a girl.

A tall guy stood there, frozen mid-step, eyes wide as he stared at you. His mouth parted slightly, clearly trying to process the situation. Before either of you could react, the main door creaked open again — more voices echoing as a group of guys walked in.

In a flash, he moved. He rushed forward, slipped into your stall, and pulled the curtain closed behind him. You stumbled back in shock as he gently but firmly pushed you deeper into the stall, his hand landing on your bare waist.

Your eyes widened in recognition.

It was Sunoo — the handsome senior from the engineering department.

He was still fully dry in his casual clothes, standing inches away from your completely naked, dripping body. His warm palm remained pressed against the curve of your waist, steadying you… or maybe steadying himself. His breath was shallow, his dark eyes locked onto yours in stunned silence as the voices of his friends grew louder just outside the thin curtain.

You wanted to argue so badly — to push him away and hiss at him for barging in — but the voices of his friends right outside the thin curtain made you freeze. Any sound could give you both away. So you stayed quiet, heart hammering in your chest, cheeks burning with embarrassment and shock.

Sunoo’s eyes flicked toward the curtain for a split second, then back to you. Without a word, he slid closer, his body pressing lightly against yours as he reached for the shower knob. His clothes brushed against your wet, naked skin, sending a shiver down your spine. He turned the water on, letting the spray hit the wall first before adjusting it so it would sound like someone was actively showering.

The sound of running water filled the stall, masking your quick, shallow breaths.

His friends’ voices echoed loudly now, laughing and talking about practice, completely unaware. One of them even tried the stall next to yours before moving on.

Sunoo kept one hand firmly on your waist, steadying you under the warm spray. Water began soaking into his shirt, making the fabric cling to his chest. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his breath brushing against your wet hair. His dark eyes met yours again, a mix of apology and panic in them.

He leaned in slightly, lips barely an inch from your ear so only you could hear.

“…Sorry,” he whispered, voice low and slightly hoarse. “Just… stay quiet for a minute. They’ll leave soon.”

His fingers unconsciously tightened on your bare waist as another burst of laughter came from outside. The water continued to cascade over both of you now, drenching him completely while you stood there, heart racing, trapped between the cold tiles and his tall frame.

You were still completely naked.

He was fully clothed — but getting wetter by the second.

And neither of you could move without risking everything.

You hated it.

You hated how his low, husky whisper sent a warm shiver straight through your body. The way his breath brushed your ear made your stomach tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear. Fuck, you thought, cheeks burning hotter than the shower water. You just nodded quickly, not trusting your voice.

You couldn’t even look at him directly. Every time your eyes tried to meet his, your heart stuttered. Instead, you kept your gaze lowered, staring at the wet fabric clinging to his chest. But curiosity won for a split second — you glanced up.

Fuck… he’s handsome.

Even soaked, Sunoo looked unfairly good. Wet strands of hair stuck to his forehead, water sliding down his sharp jawline. His usual calm, composed senior vibe was cracking under the situation, replaced by flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. His dark eyes were locked on your face, careful not to let his gaze drift lower, though you could tell he was fighting it.

He noticed your quick glance. For a moment, something shifted in his expression — a flicker of heat mixed with panic.

The voices outside grew louder as his friends joked around, one of them yelling something about waiting for Sunoo. The running water was the only thing keeping your secret safe.

Sunoo’s hand was still on your bare waist, his fingers now lightly pressing into your slick skin as if he didn’t realize he was still holding you. The thin curtain and the sound of the shower were the only barriers between you and total humiliation.

You swallowed hard, painfully aware of how close his body was to yours. Every small movement made his wet clothes brush against your breasts and stomach. The heat between you two was getting harder to ignore.

He leaned in again, voice even lower this time, almost a breath

“…You okay?”

His eyes finally dropped for half a second — just long enough to take in the sight of your naked, dripping body pressed against him — before snapping back up to your face. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

You nodded again, biting your lip.

Neither of you dared to speak after that. The only sounds were the shower running and the heavy beat of your hearts.

You felt like you were losing your mind.

A deep, aching heat had settled low in your stomach, pulsing uncomfortably between your legs. It wasn’t just nervousness anymore. The way Sunoo’s wet body was pressed against yours, his fingers still gripping your bare waist, the sound of his breathing so close to your ear — it was making everything worse. Your thighs pressed together instinctively, but that only made the throbbing sharper.

Shit… not now. Not here.

You hated how your body was betraying you. The warmth spreading through your core, the way your nipples had hardened against his soaked shirt… damn it. You wanted to squirm, to clench your legs tighter, to do something to ease the building pressure, but you couldn’t. Any movement, any sound, and his friends right outside the curtain would hear.

Sunoo was still watching you, his dark eyes searching your face. He must have noticed the way your breathing had changed — quicker, shallower. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, almost like a silent question.

You shook your head very lightly, biting down hard on your lower lip. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even shift your weight without the water splashing differently. All you could do was stand there, completely naked and dripping, while unwanted heat kept pooling between your thighs.

Sunoo leaned in closer again, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, barely audible over the running shower

“…Breathe. I’ve got you.”

His voice was lower than before, a little rougher. You didn’t miss how his thumb unconsciously stroked your wet skin, slow and soothing. The front of his soaked pants was now pressed lightly against your hip, and you could feel he was getting hard too.

That realization only made the ache between your legs intensify.

You closed your eyes tightly, trying to fight the wave of heat crashing over you. Your friends had ditched you. You were stuck in the wrong bathroom. And now the unfairly handsome senior engineering student was trapping you against the wall, both of you soaked, while his friends laughed and chatted just a few feet away.

And all you could think about was how badly you needed relief.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

The throbbing between your legs had grown unbearable. Every tiny shift of your body made it worse, and Sunoo’s warm, wet frame pressed so close only intensified the ache. Your heart was racing, your breathing shaky. You had to say something before you lost control.

With the shower still running loudly, you leaned in just enough so your lips nearly touched his ear. Your voice came out as a trembling, barely audible whisper

“…Sunoo… I-I can’t… it feels too much down there.”

The words left your mouth and you immediately regretted how needy they sounded. Your face burned with shame, but the confession was out. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, too embarrassed to look at him.

Sunoo froze against you.

His hand on your waist tightened, fingers digging into your slick skin as he processed what you’d just whispered. You felt his chest rise sharply against yours, his breath hitching. The front of his soaked pants twitched noticeably against your hip — he was definitely harder now.

He pulled back just enough to look at your face, his dark eyes wide with shock and something much hotter. Water streamed down his flushed cheeks as he stared at you, lips parted.

For a few long seconds, he didn’t speak. Then he leaned back in, his wet hair brushing your forehead, and whispered so quietly you barely heard him over the water

“…Fuck. You’re serious?”

His voice was hoarse, strained. His free hand came up to rest on the tile beside your head, caging you in as his body pressed a little closer despite himself. The new angle made his clothed thigh accidentally brush right between your legs, right against your aching core.

You had to bite your lip hard to stop any sound from escaping.

Sunoo’s eyes darkened. He looked like he was fighting every instinct he had.

“Tell me what you need,” he breathed against your ear, voice shaky but gentle. “Quickly… before they hear us.”

His friends were still chatting and laughing outside, completely oblivious, but the tension inside the stall had just skyrocketed.

You wanted to speak so badly.

You wanted to tell him exactly how badly your body was aching, how the throbbing between your legs was driving you crazy, how his thigh pressing against you was making it ten times worse. But fear sealed your throat. Any sound louder than a breath could alert his friends just outside the curtain. So you stayed silent, trembling, eyes glassy with desperation.

Sunoo studied your face for a heartbeat, reading the unspoken plea in your expression. His jaw clenched. Then he gave a tiny nod, understanding.

Without another word, he slowly slid his hand from your waist, down over your hip, and between your thighs. His touch was careful, almost hesitant at first. Two fingers gently parted your folds, finding you slick and swollen with arousal. The moment he brushed against your clit, your knees buckled. You grabbed onto his soaked shirt with both hands, burying your face against his chest to muffle any sound.

He started moving — slow, quiet circles against your most sensitive spot. The warm shower water mixed with your own wetness, making every glide smooth and torturously teasing. His fingers were skilled, pressing just enough to give you relief without making noise.

You bit hard into his shoulder through his wet shirt, eyes squeezed shut as pleasure spiked through you. A tiny, broken whimper almost escaped, but Sunoo quickly pressed his lips to your ear.

“Shhh…” he breathed, barely audible. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

His other arm wrapped around your back, holding you steady against him while his fingers continued their secret work — rubbing faster now, then slowing down when your breathing grew too ragged. Every stroke sent sparks up your spine. You were soaking his hand, thighs shaking uncontrollably.

The voices of his friends outside rose and fell, laughing about something stupid. The risk only made everything feel more intense.

Sunoo’s own breathing was uneven, his hardness pressing insistently against your hip through his soaked pants. He was clearly affected too, but he stayed focused on you, curling his fingers lower to tease your entrance before returning to your swollen clit with perfect pressure.

You wanted to moan his name. You wanted to beg him to go faster. Instead, all you could do was pant softly against his neck and roll your hips desperately into his hand, chasing the building pleasure in complete silence.

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your temple — almost sweet despite the filthy situation — and whispered hotly against your skin

“That’s it… cum for me. Quietly.”

Your body tensed hard as the pleasure finally crashed over you. You buried your teeth into Sunoo’s shoulder through his soaked shirt, biting down to stop yourself from crying out. A powerful orgasm ripped through you, making your thighs shake violently and your walls clench around nothing. You came hard on his fingers, hips jerking against his hand while the shower water continued to rain down on both of you.

Sunoo’s breath hitched sharply. Feeling you come undone, feeling how wet and tight you were, finally made him lose control.

He pulled his hand away from between your legs, breathing heavily. For a moment, he just stared at you — eyes dark with lust, hair dripping, lips parted. Then he slowly looked into your eyes, his gaze asking the silent question.

is it okay

You nodded quickly, desperately, still trembling from your orgasm.

That was all the permission he needed.

Sunoo stepped back just enough to peel off his wet clothes. His shirt hit the floor with a heavy splash, followed by his pants and boxers. In seconds, he was completely naked, his hard cock springing free, flushed and leaking at the tip. He kicked the soaked pile of clothes to the corner of the stall.

You leaned back against the cool tiled wall for support, chest heaving. Sunoo moved in again, tall frame pressing close. He hooked one of your legs over his hip, adjusting his position carefully. The head of his cock nudged against your slick entrance, sliding up and down your folds teasingly.

Just as he pushed forward — the thick tip stretching you open — your mouth fell open in a silent moan. Before any sound could escape, Sunoo’s large hand clamped firmly over your mouth, muffling you completely.

“Shhh…” he whispered hotly against your ear, voice strained with lust.

He sank deeper inside you in one slow, steady thrust, burying himself to the hilt. His eyes rolled back for a second at how tightly you wrapped around him. He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust, forehead pressed against yours as both of you struggled to stay quiet.

Outside the curtain, his friends were still talking and laughing, completely unaware that Sunoo was balls-deep inside you just a few feet away.

His hand stayed pressed over your mouth as he slowly rolled his hips, starting to fuck you against the wall — deep, careful strokes that made your eyes water with pleasure.

Sunoo’s thrusts grew faster, deeper, and much riskier.

He was fucking you harder now, the wet sound of skin slapping skin starting to mix with the shower spray. Every stroke pushed you up against the tiled wall, your breasts bouncing with the force. The risk of getting caught only seemed to make him more desperate.

He suddenly pulled his hand away from your mouth. Before you could even gasp, he cupped the back of your head and crashed his lips against yours in a hungry, messy kiss.

You moaned into his mouth — soft and needy — and he swallowed every sound. His tongue pushed past your lips, tasting you deeply as he fucked you faster. The kiss was wet, sloppy, and intense, muffling your whimpers while his hips snapped against yours.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” he breathed against your lips between kisses, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

He angled his hips and drove into you even harder, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. The stall shook slightly. Water splashed everywhere. The wet sounds were getting louder.

Outside, his friends were still there. One of them laughed loudly and said, “Yo, where the hell is Sunoo? He’s taking forever.”

The voice was so close it made your pussy clench hard around him in panic and arousal. Sunoo groaned quietly into your mouth, his grip on your thigh tightening as he pounded into you faster, chasing his own pleasure now.

He broke the kiss for a second, pressing his forehead to yours, both of you panting heavily.

“You’re gonna make me cum…” he whispered hotly, eyes half-lidded with lust. His cock throbbed inside you, thick and relentless.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, biting your lower lip as his pace turned almost frantic — risky, noisy, and completely addicted to the feeling of your tight heat around him.

Your second orgasm was already building fast, dangerously close, while his friends lingered just outside the curtain, still chatting and waiting for him.

Sunoo suddenly pulled out of you, making you whimper at the loss. In one swift, strong movement, he gripped the back of your thighs and lifted both your legs off the ground, wrapping them around his waist. Your back pressed harder against the cold tiles as he held you up effortlessly, your body completely suspended between him and the wall.

His cock nudged your entrance again before slamming back inside you in a single deep thrust. The new angle was devastating — he reached even deeper, hitting spots that made your eyes roll back.

“Fuck—” you choked out against his lips.

He kissed you again, hard and desperate, swallowing your moans as he started fucking you with reckless intensity. The position allowed him to drive into you faster and harder. Wet, filthy sounds of his hips slapping against your ass echoed inside the stall, barely covered by the shower.

Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, nails digging into his shoulders as he bounced you on his cock.

The pleasure built dangerously fast. Your second orgasm hit you like a wave.

You came hard around him, pussy clenching and pulsing, thighs shaking violently in his grip. A broken, high-pitched moan escaped into his mouth. Sunoo groaned deeply, kissing you even more messily to silence you as your walls fluttered and squeezed him.

The feeling of you cumming pushed him over the edge.

“Shit… I’m cumming—” he gasped against your lips.

With a few final, brutal thrusts, Sunoo buried himself as deep as possible and came inside you. Thick, hot spurts of his cum flooded your pussy, filling you up while he held you tightly against the wall. His hips jerked, grinding into you as he rode out his orgasm, groaning quietly into your neck.

Both of you stayed locked together, panting heavily, bodies trembling. His cock was still buried deep inside you, twitching with the last drops of his release. Cum was already starting to leak out around him, mixing with the shower water running down your thighs.

Outside the curtain, one of his friends shouted, “Sunoo-ya! Hurry up, man! We’re waiting!”

Sunoo froze, still holding you up with both legs wrapped around him, his cum dripping out of your used pussy. He looked at you with wide, hazy eyes — a mix of satisfaction, panic, and lingering lust.

He pressed a soft, breathless kiss to your lips and whispered against them

“…We’re so fucked.”

Sunoo’s chest was still heaving, his cock buried deep inside you as he tried to steady his breathing. Even through the aftershocks of his orgasm, he managed to lift his head and shout toward the curtain in a surprisingly steady voice

“I’ll catch up! Just go ahead without me!”

His friends groaned and teased him for a second, but they sounded convinced.

“Alright, don’t take too long, dude!”

Their voices faded as they laughed and talked about random things — practice, food, some upcoming exam — until the bathroom door finally clicked shut behind them.

Silence.

You were finally alone.

“Fuck…” you breathed out, voice hoarse and shaky now that you could actually speak.

Sunoo pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes still dark with lust. A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at his lips. He was still holding both of your legs wrapped around his waist, his cock still hard and twitching inside your cum-filled pussy.

“Yeah… fuck is right,” he whispered, voice low and rough.

Without warning, he started moving again — slow and deep at first, pushing his cum even deeper into you with every thrust. The sound was wetter now, obscene squelching noises filling the stall as his load leaked out around his cock.

But being completely alone changed everything.

Sunoo’s pace quickly picked up. He fucked you harder, slamming into you with long, powerful strokes. Your back slid against the wet tiles as he railed you, the wet slapping sounds echoing freely in the empty bathroom.

“Again,” he growled against your neck, biting down gently. “I want you to cum again.”

He adjusted his grip, spreading your legs wider as he drove into you relentlessly. The new freedom made him bolder — louder. His moans mixed with yours, no longer needing to stay quiet.

You could barely think straight. His cock kept hitting that perfect spot, and the feeling of his warm cum being fucked in and out of you was driving you crazy.

Sunoo pulled out of you with a wet sound, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness.

“New position,” he said huskily.

He sat down on the small built-in bench inside the stall, water still cascading over both of you. Then he pulled you onto his lap, facing him — your knees straddling his thighs in a seated cowgirl position. The moment you lowered yourself, his cock slid back inside your cum-filled pussy in one smooth glide.

“Ride me,” he groaned, hands gripping your ass tightly.

You braced your hands on his shoulders and started moving, rolling your hips and bouncing on his cock. The new angle made him feel even deeper. Sunoo leaned back against the wall, eyes locked on your bouncing breasts as you rode him harder, the wet sounds echoing shamelessly now that you were alone.

“Fuck, you look so good like this…” he muttered, thrusting up to meet your movements.

After a few intense minutes, he suddenly lifted you off him. Before you could protest, he dropped to his knees on the wet floor in front of you, pushed your back against the wall, and threw one of your legs over his shoulder.

His mouth was on you instantly.

Sunoo licked a long, hungry stripe up your pussy, tasting both your juices and his own cum. He moaned against your folds, the vibration shooting pleasure through you. He ate you like a man starved — sucking on your swollen clit, fucking you with his tongue, and licking up every drop of his cum that leaked out of you.

“Ah— Sunoo!” you moaned freely, fingers threading through his wet hair, pulling him closer.

He looked up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes while his tongue worked relentlessly. Two fingers joined his mouth, curling inside you as he sucked hard on your clit. Your legs started shaking again within seconds.

You came hard on his tongue, thighs clamping around his head as you cried out. Sunoo didn’t stop — he kept licking you through your orgasm until you were pushing at his head from oversensitivity.

When he finally stood up, his cock was rock hard again, flushed dark and throbbing. He leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, water running down his toned body.

Your turn.

You dropped to your knees without hesitation, the shower water spraying over your back. You wrapped your hand around his thick cock and took him into your mouth in one go.

“Shit—!” Sunoo hissed, head falling back against the tiles.

You sucked him eagerly, bobbing your head, swirling your tongue around the tip, and taking him as deep as you could. The taste of your mixed juices coated your tongue. Sunoo’s hand gently held the back of your head, guiding you but not forcing, soft groans and curses spilling from his lips every time you hollowed your cheeks.

“You’re too good at this…” he panted, hips twitching. “Keep going, baby.”

After a few more minutes of you sucking him eagerly, Sunoo’s breathing turned ragged. His hand tightened gently in your wet hair.

“I’m close—” he warned, voice strained.

You looked up at him and took him deeper, sucking harder. With a low, broken groan, Sunoo came hard in your mouth. Thick ropes of his cum spilled onto your tongue as his cock pulsed between your lips. You swallowed every drop, milking him until he was trembling and gently pulling you off.

“Fuck… you’re incredible,” he whispered, helping you stand up.

You both finally took the chance to clean up properly. Sunoo grabbed the school-provided soap and shampoo. Under the warm spray, you washed each other — his hands gentle but lingering as he soaped your breasts, back, and between your legs. You returned the favor, running your hands over his toned chest and abs, smiling shyly when his cock twitched again at your touch.

After rinsing off, you both stepped out of the stall. Sunoo quickly went to his locker near the sink and grabbed the spare clothes he had left there earlier. He lent you his clean oversized hoodie while you changed back into your extra clothes. You dried your hair with a towel and brushed it in front of the mirror.

“I’m Y/N,” you said softly, glancing at him through the reflection. “Second year, Architecture.”

Sunoo smiled — a bright, charming smile that made your heart skip. He was drying his hair roughly with another towel.

“I’m Sunoo. Engineering senior,” he replied, still smiling. “Nice to officially meet you, Y/N.” He paused, then added with a playful glint in his eyes, “Wanna grab coffee? My treat.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. “I’d like that.”

You both walked out of the swimming complex side by side, the tension from earlier slowly turning into a warm, fluttering feeling.

Just as you reached the courtyard, two familiar voices called out.

“Y/N! There you are! We were looking for—”

Samantha and Yukuzi stopped mid-sentence. Their eyes widened when they saw who you were walking with.

Kim Sunoo.

They both looked completely starstruck, mouths slightly open.

“Uh… we wanted to—” Samantha started, still staring at Sunoo.

“Maybe later,” you said calmly, cutting them off with a small wave. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

Without waiting for their reply, you continued walking with Sunoo. He glanced down at you, amused, and quietly slipped his hand into yours.

You had just finished swimming, and your so-called friends had ditched you without a word. Annoyed but too tired to care, you grabbed your towel and spare clothes, heading straight for the showers.

You glanced at the signs on the two stalls. Both looked like female symbols. Without thinking twice, you pushed open the door and stepped inside. The nameplate on the front had slipped off earlier, revealing the truth this was the men’s bathroom.

It was quiet and empty. You chose the last stall, pulled the curtain shut, and quickly peeled off your wet pink sporty swimwear. The cool air brushed against your bare skin as you set the swimsuit aside. Completely naked now, you turned on the shower, letting the warm water cascade over your body. You ran your fingers through your wet hair, rinsing off the chlorine, when you suddenly realized you had forgotten your soap and shampoo.

Just then, you heard footsteps. Someone had entered the bathroom.

Luckily, you spotted a bottle of school-provided soap and shampoo on the small shelf inside the stall. You turned off the shower, wrapped one arm loosely across your chest, and peeked out from behind the curtain — just enough to show your wet hair and bare shoulders.

“Excuse me, can you please—”

Your voice died in your throat.

It wasn’t a girl.

A tall guy stood there, frozen mid-step, eyes wide as he stared at you. His mouth parted slightly, clearly trying to process the situation. Before either of you could react, the main door creaked open again — more voices echoing as a group of guys walked in.

In a flash, he moved. He rushed forward, slipped into your stall, and pulled the curtain closed behind him. You stumbled back in shock as he gently but firmly pushed you deeper into the stall, his hand landing on your bare waist.

Your eyes widened in recognition.

It was Sunoo — the handsome senior from the engineering department.

He was still fully dry in his casual clothes, standing inches away from your completely naked, dripping body. His warm palm remained pressed against the curve of your waist, steadying you… or maybe steadying himself. His breath was shallow, his dark eyes locked onto yours in stunned silence as the voices of his friends grew louder just outside the thin curtain.

You wanted to argue so badly — to push him away and hiss at him for barging in — but the voices of his friends right outside the thin curtain made you freeze. Any sound could give you both away. So you stayed quiet, heart hammering in your chest, cheeks burning with embarrassment and shock.

Sunoo’s eyes flicked toward the curtain for a split second, then back to you. Without a word, he slid closer, his body pressing lightly against yours as he reached for the shower knob. His clothes brushed against your wet, naked skin, sending a shiver down your spine. He turned the water on, letting the spray hit the wall first before adjusting it so it would sound like someone was actively showering.

The sound of running water filled the stall, masking your quick, shallow breaths.

His friends’ voices echoed loudly now, laughing and talking about practice, completely unaware. One of them even tried the stall next to yours before moving on.

Sunoo kept one hand firmly on your waist, steadying you under the warm spray. Water began soaking into his shirt, making the fabric cling to his chest. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his breath brushing against your wet hair. His dark eyes met yours again, a mix of apology and panic in them.

He leaned in slightly, lips barely an inch from your ear so only you could hear.

“…Sorry,” he whispered, voice low and slightly hoarse. “Just… stay quiet for a minute. They’ll leave soon.”

His fingers unconsciously tightened on your bare waist as another burst of laughter came from outside. The water continued to cascade over both of you now, drenching him completely while you stood there, heart racing, trapped between the cold tiles and his tall frame.

You were still completely naked.

He was fully clothed — but getting wetter by the second.

And neither of you could move without risking everything.

You hated it.

You hated how his low, husky whisper sent a warm shiver straight through your body. The way his breath brushed your ear made your stomach tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear. Fuck, you thought, cheeks burning hotter than the shower water. You just nodded quickly, not trusting your voice.

You couldn’t even look at him directly. Every time your eyes tried to meet his, your heart stuttered. Instead, you kept your gaze lowered, staring at the wet fabric clinging to his chest. But curiosity won for a split second — you glanced up.

Fuck… he’s handsome.

Even soaked, Sunoo looked unfairly good. Wet strands of hair stuck to his forehead, water sliding down his sharp jawline. His usual calm, composed senior vibe was cracking under the situation, replaced by flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. His dark eyes were locked on your face, careful not to let his gaze drift lower, though you could tell he was fighting it.

He noticed your quick glance. For a moment, something shifted in his expression — a flicker of heat mixed with panic.

The voices outside grew louder as his friends joked around, one of them yelling something about waiting for Sunoo. The running water was the only thing keeping your secret safe.

Sunoo’s hand was still on your bare waist, his fingers now lightly pressing into your slick skin as if he didn’t realize he was still holding you. The thin curtain and the sound of the shower were the only barriers between you and total humiliation.

You swallowed hard, painfully aware of how close his body was to yours. Every small movement made his wet clothes brush against your breasts and stomach. The heat between you two was getting harder to ignore.

He leaned in again, voice even lower this time, almost a breath

“…You okay?”

His eyes finally dropped for half a second — just long enough to take in the sight of your naked, dripping body pressed against him — before snapping back up to your face. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

You nodded again, biting your lip.

Neither of you dared to speak after that. The only sounds were the shower running and the heavy beat of your hearts.

You felt like you were losing your mind.

A deep, aching heat had settled low in your stomach, pulsing uncomfortably between your legs. It wasn’t just nervousness anymore. The way Sunoo’s wet body was pressed against yours, his fingers still gripping your bare waist, the sound of his breathing so close to your ear — it was making everything worse. Your thighs pressed together instinctively, but that only made the throbbing sharper.

Shit… not now. Not here.

You hated how your body was betraying you. The warmth spreading through your core, the way your nipples had hardened against his soaked shirt… damn it. You wanted to squirm, to clench your legs tighter, to do something to ease the building pressure, but you couldn’t. Any movement, any sound, and his friends right outside the curtain would hear.

Sunoo was still watching you, his dark eyes searching your face. He must have noticed the way your breathing had changed — quicker, shallower. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, almost like a silent question.

You shook your head very lightly, biting down hard on your lower lip. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even shift your weight without the water splashing differently. All you could do was stand there, completely naked and dripping, while unwanted heat kept pooling between your thighs.

Sunoo leaned in closer again, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, barely audible over the running shower

“…Breathe. I’ve got you.”

His voice was lower than before, a little rougher. You didn’t miss how his thumb unconsciously stroked your wet skin, slow and soothing. The front of his soaked pants was now pressed lightly against your hip, and you could feel he was getting hard too.

That realization only made the ache between your legs intensify.

You closed your eyes tightly, trying to fight the wave of heat crashing over you. Your friends had ditched you. You were stuck in the wrong bathroom. And now the unfairly handsome senior engineering student was trapping you against the wall, both of you soaked, while his friends laughed and chatted just a few feet away.

And all you could think about was how badly you needed relief.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

The throbbing between your legs had grown unbearable. Every tiny shift of your body made it worse, and Sunoo’s warm, wet frame pressed so close only intensified the ache. Your heart was racing, your breathing shaky. You had to say something before you lost control.

With the shower still running loudly, you leaned in just enough so your lips nearly touched his ear. Your voice came out as a trembling, barely audible whisper

“…Sunoo… I-I can’t… it feels too much down there.”

The words left your mouth and you immediately regretted how needy they sounded. Your face burned with shame, but the confession was out. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, too embarrassed to look at him.

Sunoo froze against you.

His hand on your waist tightened, fingers digging into your slick skin as he processed what you’d just whispered. You felt his chest rise sharply against yours, his breath hitching. The front of his soaked pants twitched noticeably against your hip — he was definitely harder now.

He pulled back just enough to look at your face, his dark eyes wide with shock and something much hotter. Water streamed down his flushed cheeks as he stared at you, lips parted.

For a few long seconds, he didn’t speak. Then he leaned back in, his wet hair brushing your forehead, and whispered so quietly you barely heard him over the water

“…Fuck. You’re serious?”

His voice was hoarse, strained. His free hand came up to rest on the tile beside your head, caging you in as his body pressed a little closer despite himself. The new angle made his clothed thigh accidentally brush right between your legs, right against your aching core.

You had to bite your lip hard to stop any sound from escaping.

Sunoo’s eyes darkened. He looked like he was fighting every instinct he had.

“Tell me what you need,” he breathed against your ear, voice shaky but gentle. “Quickly… before they hear us.”

His friends were still chatting and laughing outside, completely oblivious, but the tension inside the stall had just skyrocketed.

You wanted to speak so badly.

You wanted to tell him exactly how badly your body was aching, how the throbbing between your legs was driving you crazy, how his thigh pressing against you was making it ten times worse. But fear sealed your throat. Any sound louder than a breath could alert his friends just outside the curtain. So you stayed silent, trembling, eyes glassy with desperation.

Sunoo studied your face for a heartbeat, reading the unspoken plea in your expression. His jaw clenched. Then he gave a tiny nod, understanding.

Without another word, he slowly slid his hand from your waist, down over your hip, and between your thighs. His touch was careful, almost hesitant at first. Two fingers gently parted your folds, finding you slick and swollen with arousal. The moment he brushed against your clit, your knees buckled. You grabbed onto his soaked shirt with both hands, burying your face against his chest to muffle any sound.

He started moving — slow, quiet circles against your most sensitive spot. The warm shower water mixed with your own wetness, making every glide smooth and torturously teasing. His fingers were skilled, pressing just enough to give you relief without making noise.

You bit hard into his shoulder through his wet shirt, eyes squeezed shut as pleasure spiked through you. A tiny, broken whimper almost escaped, but Sunoo quickly pressed his lips to your ear.

“Shhh…” he breathed, barely audible. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

His other arm wrapped around your back, holding you steady against him while his fingers continued their secret work — rubbing faster now, then slowing down when your breathing grew too ragged. Every stroke sent sparks up your spine. You were soaking his hand, thighs shaking uncontrollably.

The voices of his friends outside rose and fell, laughing about something stupid. The risk only made everything feel more intense.

Sunoo’s own breathing was uneven, his hardness pressing insistently against your hip through his soaked pants. He was clearly affected too, but he stayed focused on you, curling his fingers lower to tease your entrance before returning to your swollen clit with perfect pressure.

You wanted to moan his name. You wanted to beg him to go faster. Instead, all you could do was pant softly against his neck and roll your hips desperately into his hand, chasing the building pleasure in complete silence.

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your temple — almost sweet despite the filthy situation — and whispered hotly against your skin

“That’s it… cum for me. Quietly.”

Your body tensed hard as the pleasure finally crashed over you. You buried your teeth into Sunoo’s shoulder through his soaked shirt, biting down to stop yourself from crying out. A powerful orgasm ripped through you, making your thighs shake violently and your walls clench around nothing. You came hard on his fingers, hips jerking against his hand while the shower water continued to rain down on both of you.

Sunoo’s breath hitched sharply. Feeling you come undone, feeling how wet and tight you were, finally made him lose control.

He pulled his hand away from between your legs, breathing heavily. For a moment, he just stared at you — eyes dark with lust, hair dripping, lips parted. Then he slowly looked into your eyes, his gaze asking the silent question.

is it okay

You nodded quickly, desperately, still trembling from your orgasm.

That was all the permission he needed.

Sunoo stepped back just enough to peel off his wet clothes. His shirt hit the floor with a heavy splash, followed by his pants and boxers. In seconds, he was completely naked, his hard cock springing free, flushed and leaking at the tip. He kicked the soaked pile of clothes to the corner of the stall.

You leaned back against the cool tiled wall for support, chest heaving. Sunoo moved in again, tall frame pressing close. He hooked one of your legs over his hip, adjusting his position carefully. The head of his cock nudged against your slick entrance, sliding up and down your folds teasingly.

Just as he pushed forward — the thick tip stretching you open — your mouth fell open in a silent moan. Before any sound could escape, Sunoo’s large hand clamped firmly over your mouth, muffling you completely.

“Shhh…” he whispered hotly against your ear, voice strained with lust.

He sank deeper inside you in one slow, steady thrust, burying himself to the hilt. His eyes rolled back for a second at how tightly you wrapped around him. He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust, forehead pressed against yours as both of you struggled to stay quiet.

Outside the curtain, his friends were still talking and laughing, completely unaware that Sunoo was balls-deep inside you just a few feet away.

His hand stayed pressed over your mouth as he slowly rolled his hips, starting to fuck you against the wall — deep, careful strokes that made your eyes water with pleasure.

Sunoo’s thrusts grew faster, deeper, and much riskier.

He was fucking you harder now, the wet sound of skin slapping skin starting to mix with the shower spray. Every stroke pushed you up against the tiled wall, your breasts bouncing with the force. The risk of getting caught only seemed to make him more desperate.

He suddenly pulled his hand away from your mouth. Before you could even gasp, he cupped the back of your head and crashed his lips against yours in a hungry, messy kiss.

You moaned into his mouth — soft and needy — and he swallowed every sound. His tongue pushed past your lips, tasting you deeply as he fucked you faster. The kiss was wet, sloppy, and intense, muffling your whimpers while his hips snapped against yours.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” he breathed against your lips between kisses, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

He angled his hips and drove into you even harder, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. The stall shook slightly. Water splashed everywhere. The wet sounds were getting louder.

Outside, his friends were still there. One of them laughed loudly and said, “Yo, where the hell is Sunoo? He’s taking forever.”

The voice was so close it made your pussy clench hard around him in panic and arousal. Sunoo groaned quietly into your mouth, his grip on your thigh tightening as he pounded into you faster, chasing his own pleasure now.

He broke the kiss for a second, pressing his forehead to yours, both of you panting heavily.

“You’re gonna make me cum…” he whispered hotly, eyes half-lidded with lust. His cock throbbed inside you, thick and relentless.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, biting your lower lip as his pace turned almost frantic — risky, noisy, and completely addicted to the feeling of your tight heat around him.

Your second orgasm was already building fast, dangerously close, while his friends lingered just outside the curtain, still chatting and waiting for him.

Sunoo suddenly pulled out of you, making you whimper at the loss. In one swift, strong movement, he gripped the back of your thighs and lifted both your legs off the ground, wrapping them around his waist. Your back pressed harder against the cold tiles as he held you up effortlessly, your body completely suspended between him and the wall.

His cock nudged your entrance again before slamming back inside you in a single deep thrust. The new angle was devastating — he reached even deeper, hitting spots that made your eyes roll back.

“Fuck—” you choked out against his lips.

He kissed you again, hard and desperate, swallowing your moans as he started fucking you with reckless intensity. The position allowed him to drive into you faster and harder. Wet, filthy sounds of his hips slapping against your ass echoed inside the stall, barely covered by the shower.

Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, nails digging into his shoulders as he bounced you on his cock.

The pleasure built dangerously fast. Your second orgasm hit you like a wave.

You came hard around him, pussy clenching and pulsing, thighs shaking violently in his grip. A broken, high-pitched moan escaped into his mouth. Sunoo groaned deeply, kissing you even more messily to silence you as your walls fluttered and squeezed him.

The feeling of you cumming pushed him over the edge.

“Shit… I’m cumming—” he gasped against your lips.

With a few final, brutal thrusts, Sunoo buried himself as deep as possible and came inside you. Thick, hot spurts of his cum flooded your pussy, filling you up while he held you tightly against the wall. His hips jerked, grinding into you as he rode out his orgasm, groaning quietly into your neck.

Both of you stayed locked together, panting heavily, bodies trembling. His cock was still buried deep inside you, twitching with the last drops of his release. Cum was already starting to leak out around him, mixing with the shower water running down your thighs.

Outside the curtain, one of his friends shouted, “Sunoo-ya! Hurry up, man! We’re waiting!”

Sunoo froze, still holding you up with both legs wrapped around him, his cum dripping out of your used pussy. He looked at you with wide, hazy eyes — a mix of satisfaction, panic, and lingering lust.

He pressed a soft, breathless kiss to your lips and whispered against them

“…We’re so fucked.”

Sunoo’s chest was still heaving, his cock buried deep inside you as he tried to steady his breathing. Even through the aftershocks of his orgasm, he managed to lift his head and shout toward the curtain in a surprisingly steady voice

“I’ll catch up! Just go ahead without me!”

His friends groaned and teased him for a second, but they sounded convinced.

“Alright, don’t take too long, dude!”

Their voices faded as they laughed and talked about random things — practice, food, some upcoming exam — until the bathroom door finally clicked shut behind them.

Silence.

You were finally alone.

“Fuck…” you breathed out, voice hoarse and shaky now that you could actually speak.

Sunoo pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes still dark with lust. A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at his lips. He was still holding both of your legs wrapped around his waist, his cock still hard and twitching inside your cum-filled pussy.

“Yeah… fuck is right,” he whispered, voice low and rough.

Without warning, he started moving again — slow and deep at first, pushing his cum even deeper into you with every thrust. The sound was wetter now, obscene squelching noises filling the stall as his load leaked out around his cock.

But being completely alone changed everything.

Sunoo’s pace quickly picked up. He fucked you harder, slamming into you with long, powerful strokes. Your back slid against the wet tiles as he railed you, the wet slapping sounds echoing freely in the empty bathroom.

“Again,” he growled against your neck, biting down gently. “I want you to cum again.”

He adjusted his grip, spreading your legs wider as he drove into you relentlessly. The new freedom made him bolder — louder. His moans mixed with yours, no longer needing to stay quiet.

You could barely think straight. His cock kept hitting that perfect spot, and the feeling of his warm cum being fucked in and out of you was driving you crazy.

Sunoo pulled out of you with a wet sound, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness.

“New position,” he said huskily.

He sat down on the small built-in bench inside the stall, water still cascading over both of you. Then he pulled you onto his lap, facing him — your knees straddling his thighs in a seated cowgirl position. The moment you lowered yourself, his cock slid back inside your cum-filled pussy in one smooth glide.

“Ride me,” he groaned, hands gripping your ass tightly.

You braced your hands on his shoulders and started moving, rolling your hips and bouncing on his cock. The new angle made him feel even deeper. Sunoo leaned back against the wall, eyes locked on your bouncing breasts as you rode him harder, the wet sounds echoing shamelessly now that you were alone.

“Fuck, you look so good like this…” he muttered, thrusting up to meet your movements.

After a few intense minutes, he suddenly lifted you off him. Before you could protest, he dropped to his knees on the wet floor in front of you, pushed your back against the wall, and threw one of your legs over his shoulder.

His mouth was on you instantly.

Sunoo licked a long, hungry stripe up your pussy, tasting both your juices and his own cum. He moaned against your folds, the vibration shooting pleasure through you. He ate you like a man starved — sucking on your swollen clit, fucking you with his tongue, and licking up every drop of his cum that leaked out of you.

“Ah— Sunoo!” you moaned freely, fingers threading through his wet hair, pulling him closer.

He looked up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes while his tongue worked relentlessly. Two fingers joined his mouth, curling inside you as he sucked hard on your clit. Your legs started shaking again within seconds.

You came hard on his tongue, thighs clamping around his head as you cried out. Sunoo didn’t stop — he kept licking you through your orgasm until you were pushing at his head from oversensitivity.

When he finally stood up, his cock was rock hard again, flushed dark and throbbing. He leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, water running down his toned body.

Your turn.

You dropped to your knees without hesitation, the shower water spraying over your back. You wrapped your hand around his thick cock and took him into your mouth in one go.

“Shit—!” Sunoo hissed, head falling back against the tiles.

You sucked him eagerly, bobbing your head, swirling your tongue around the tip, and taking him as deep as you could. The taste of your mixed juices coated your tongue. Sunoo’s hand gently held the back of your head, guiding you but not forcing, soft groans and curses spilling from his lips every time you hollowed your cheeks.

“You’re too good at this…” he panted, hips twitching. “Keep going, baby.”

After a few more minutes of you sucking him eagerly, Sunoo’s breathing turned ragged. His hand tightened gently in your wet hair.

“I’m close—” he warned, voice strained.

You looked up at him and took him deeper, sucking harder. With a low, broken groan, Sunoo came hard in your mouth. Thick ropes of his cum spilled onto your tongue as his cock pulsed between your lips. You swallowed every drop, milking him until he was trembling and gently pulling you off.

“Fuck… you’re incredible,” he whispered, helping you stand up.

You both finally took the chance to clean up properly. Sunoo grabbed the school-provided soap and shampoo. Under the warm spray, you washed each other — his hands gentle but lingering as he soaped your breasts, back, and between your legs. You returned the favor, running your hands over his toned chest and abs, smiling shyly when his cock twitched again at your touch.

After rinsing off, you both stepped out of the stall. Sunoo quickly went to his locker near the sink and grabbed the spare clothes he had left there earlier. He lent you his clean oversized hoodie while you changed back into your extra clothes. You dried your hair with a towel and brushed it in front of the mirror.

“I’m Y/N,” you said softly, glancing at him through the reflection. “Second year, Architecture.”

Sunoo smiled — a bright, charming smile that made your heart skip. He was drying his hair roughly with another towel.

“I’m Sunoo. Engineering senior,” he replied, still smiling. “Nice to officially meet you, Y/N.” He paused, then added with a playful glint in his eyes, “Wanna grab coffee? My treat.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. “I’d like that.”

You both walked out of the swimming complex side by side, the tension from earlier slowly turning into a warm, fluttering feeling.

Just as you reached the courtyard, two familiar voices called out.

“Y/N! There you are! We were looking for—”

Samantha and Yukuzi stopped mid-sentence. Their eyes widened when they saw who you were walking with.

Kim Sunoo.

They both looked completely starstruck, mouths slightly open.

“Uh… we wanted to—” Samantha started, still staring at Sunoo.

“Maybe later,” you said calmly, cutting them off with a small wave. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

Without waiting for their reply, you continued walking with Sunoo. He glanced down at you, amused, and quietly slipped his hand into yours.

The TV channel building was too quiet for a weekday afternoon.

That was the first thing that felt wrong..or maybe right, depending on how you looked at it. Sunoo had known about this interview for three days. Their schedule wasn't public yet, not fully, but money and persistence opened doors that should've stayed closed. A cleaning staff member with a tired face and a thick envelope. A fake name on a visitor log under "work inquiry." A stairwell that no one checked. And now he was here. One floor below the studio where she would walk in any minute with her group members.

His chest tightened. Not from the stairs, from the thought of seeing her not through a screen but in person. Real.. Breathing. Three meters away instead of three thousand kilometers.

He found the men's bathroom at the end of the hall. Empty, good. He slammed the door behind him then leaned over the sink and let cold water run over his palms. The shock helped..A little.

His reflection stared back at him from the mirror. Cap low, mask on, eyes sharp, too sharp as some people said.. Fox-like. He didn't mind that comparison. He took the mask and cap of to rinse his face then pulled out his inhaler from his jacket pocket.Two puffs. Breathe in, hold, breathe out.

You're fine Kim sunoo.. She doesn't know you exist. That's the point. He was still putting the inhaler away when the bathroom door slammed open.

Not opened.. Slammed. Sunoo's head snapped up and then she was there, Y/n.

She burst through the door like something was chasing her, because something was. Her chest heaved, her eyes wide, dark, terrified flew across the room in a single frantic sweep: mirrors, sinks, stalls, him. A man.. A stranger standing way too still at the sink with a sharp glare.

For half a second, her body tensed like she might run back out, but the voices were already getting closer in the hallway. High-pitched, excited and ean.

"She went this way-- "

"I saw her, I swear--"

"That whore, we just want a photo--"

Lies.They wanted more than a photo.They always did and she didn't have time to think. Y/n lunged toward him..not at him, past him! her voice a ragged whisper:

"Please! Help me.. Don't tell them I'm here!"

Then she was gone, inside one of the stalls, the lock clicking shut just as the bathroom door swung open again. Sunoo didn't move.

Three girls spilled inside. Late teens or early twenties. Phones out, cameras hanging from their wrists. Their eyes were bright with that particular hunger he knew too well, the kind that didn't see a person, just a target.

"Hey!" one of them said, not really looking at him. "Did a girl just come in here? Short, long dark hair, pink top?"

Sunoo's voice came out flat. "This is the men's bathroom."

"Yeah, but--"

"No one came in." He turned back to the sink, very deliberately, and shut off the tap. "I've been here alone for ten minutes."

The girls exchanged glances. The youngest one -the one with the phone already recording- tried to peek around him toward the stalls.

"You sure? We saw her--"

"You saw what?" Sunoo said, still not looking at them. "Not in here. Try the next door, women bathroom."

A beat of silence. Then the oldest one grabbed her friend's arm. "Come on. She couldn't have gone far. Let's check the stairwell!"

They left as fast as they'd come. The door swung shut. Sunoo waited three more seconds, then he crossed the room and locked it properly.

Silence.. No, not actual silence. Breathing, fast, shallow, coming from the last stall against the wall. He could hear her trying to quiet it and failing. Y/n was here..In this room. Locked in a bathroom stall. Shaking!

Sunoo swallowed. His heart was doing something stupid in his chest, not from fear. From closeness. She was right there. A few meters away. He'd read about her favorite books, watched every interview, memorized the way she smiled when she was nervous versus when she was happy. And now she was here, hiding from people who wanted to hurt her, and his hands were suddenly cold.

He stepped closer to the stall door. Slowly. Not to scare her. "They're gone," he said, quieter than he meant to. "You can come out."

A pause.

Then the lock clicked.

The door cracked open an inch. One eye appeared still terrified, scanning the room. Then the whole door swung open, and she stepped out on unsteady legs.

Y/n. His Y/n.. Smaller than he expected. Or maybe just smaller now, folded into herself like she was trying to disappear. Her pink top was crooked. Her skirt had ridden up. Her hands were shaking. She looked at the locked door, at him then back at the door. And then her legs gave out.

She slid down the wall.. not graceful, not dramatic, just collapse, until she was sitting on the cold tile floor, back against the wall, knees drawn up, whole body trembling like she was coming apart at the seams.

Sunoo froze.

He didn't know what to do. He'd never been good with crying people, with any people, really. But this wasn't just anyone.. This was her. Y/n eyes were wet now. Not crying yet but close. A thin shine building along her lower lash line. He moved without thinking, reached into his black jacket pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, plain,was black once but now dark gray, soft from being washed too many times and held it out to her.

She stared at it like she didn't understand what it was then she took it. Her fingers brushed his. Cold, So cold.

"Thank you" she whispered , her voice cracked. Sunoo didn't answer or speak, he couldn't. He was too busy staring at her, at the way her lashes clumped together, at the small mole under her left eye that cameras never quite caught, at the fact that she was real and here and touching something that belonged to him.

The silence stretched. And instead of calming her down, it seemed to make it worse. Because her eyes darted to the locked door again then to his face, unreadable, then down to his hands, still hanging at his sides. She pulled her skirt down abruptly, yanking the fabric over her thighs like she'd just realized it had ridden up.

Oh. Right. He hadn't meant to look. He looked away anyway with his face flushed. He tried again. Shrugged off his jacket, a soft, worn-out thing from Prada nothing special and held it out to her. For her legs. Or for the cold. Or just because he didn't know what else to offer, but she didn't take it.

Instead, she shrank back against the wall. Her eyes went wider. Her breathing picked up again. Fast.Too fast for normal. And then he saw it, the way she glanced at the locked door, then at him, then back at the door. The calculation, the fear recalculating.

Oh..She thought he was the threat now. Sunoo's stomach turned. He dropped his hand. Stepped back two full steps, hands up, palms out. I'm not going to touch you I'm not going to hurt you gesture.

Before he could say that out loud? BAM BAM BAM!

Someone was pounding on the door. "Y/n!! y/n?Are you in there?" Her whole body jolted. But this time, the fear on her face shifted. Relief. Recognition.

"Unnie?" she called out, voice breaking. "Unnie!"

She scrambled to her feet so fast she nearly fell again. Unlocked the door and ulled it open.

Three women in staff lanyards rushed in, managers, stylists, someone from security. They wrapped around her like a shield, hands on her shoulders, her back, her arms. "Are you okay? What happened? Did they touch you? Did he--"

One of them -the oldest, the one who'd been pounding on the door- looked past her and saw Sunoo standing there. Frozen, warned and too still. Her eyes narrowed. "Who the fuck are you?"

Y/n shook her head quickly, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "No! no, he helped me. He locked the door. He..he kept them out."

The manager's expression didn't soften. But she nodded once, short and sharp, and turned back to her. "We're getting you out of here. Now."

They pulled her toward the door. Y/n went with them stumbling, still shaking, but alive. Safe..At the threshold, she stopped, just for a second. She looked back over her shoulder. Her eyes found his. And in that one glance, Sunoo saw everything: guilt, gratitude, exhaustion, and something else, something that looked like I'm sorry I didn't say more.

Then she was gone. The door swung shut.

And Sunoo stood alone in the empty bathroom, her fading warmth still lingering on, then realized he'd forgotten to breathe.

୨ৎ

That evening in the dorm, Y/n stayed in her room long after everyone else had gone to sleep. She'd taken a long shower, the kind where the water ran hot until it turned cold, and she still stood there, letting it beat against her shoulders like it could wash the morning off her skin. It didn't work. Nothing really did. The bathroom at the TV station kept replaying behind her eyes: the slam of the door, the girls' voices in the hallway, the way her legs had given out on the cold tile floor.

And him. The stranger in black who'd locked the door and stayed.

She didn't know why she kept thinking about his hands. How steady they'd been when he held out the handkerchief. How quickly he'd stepped back when he realized she was scared of him. Stop, she told herself, wrapping her robe tighter. It's over. You're safe.

But safe didn't mean calm.One thing always helped, though. One thing never failed to pull her out of her own head. Fan letters.

After every fan meeting, she received dozens -sometimes hundreds- of letters. Some came through the company mail. Some were handed directly to staff during events. She kept them all in a large box in the corner of her room, and whenever she had free time or felt low, she'd pull out a handful and read.

Tonight, she needed that more than ever.

The new batch had arrived that evening. She'd grabbed the box from the reception desk on her way out of the company building, exhausted and hollow after the day's schedule. Now she sat cross-legged on her bed, box beside her, and reached inside without looking. She pulled out a random stack and started opening them one by one.

Letters from girls. From boys. From teen-agers, some in wobbly handwriting with heart stickers in the corners. From older fans who wrote in formal, careful sentences. Most were new names, new faces she'd never meet but whose words she carried anyway.

Some were from fans she recognized now. The ones who wrote so often that she'd memorized their return addresses, their handwriting quirks, the way they folded their letters into specific shapes. Those made her smile a quiet, private kind of warmth.

She read several in a row. Cute messages. Encouraging words. A drawing of her as a princess that was so bad it was actually good.

Then she opened the next one.Pastel blue envelope.Her fingers paused.

She knew this envelope. She'd been receiving letters in this exact design and shade of blue for months now. Same soft, matte paper. Same dark brown ink. Same handwriting, cursive, precise, almost like it had been printed rather than written by a human hand. Always a quote from a novel or a poem and sometimes songs. Nothing personal. No name. No return address. Just beautiful, unfamiliar words that made her pause and think and sometimes cry a little as she search for the original thing.

At the bottom of every single one, a beautiful, unique signature: KS.

She didn't know if KS was a man or a woman. Didn't know their age or where they lived. They never asked for anything. Never demanded a reply. Just sent quotes, like gifts wrapped in silence. These letters had become her favorite. The ones she looked forward to most.

She unfolded the paper with a small, tired smile already forming. And stopped..The page was blank.

No quote. No poem. No beautiful, unfamiliar words, just..nothing. She flipped it over. Still nothing. Then back again, at the very bottom, in that same ornate handwriting: KS.

That was it.. She stared at the page, frowning. Had they put the wrong paper in by mistake? Grabbed a blank sheet instead of the one they'd written on? It happened sometimes. Fans were human. Humans made errors. But disappointment curled in her chest anyway. This was the letter she'd been waiting for without admitting she was waiting. And now there was nothing to sink into.

She held the paper up, squinting at it like another reading might magically produce words. Nothing. With a deep sigh, she let it fall into her lap. And then something clicked.

Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just a small, sharp there in the back of her mind, like a key turning in a lock she didn't know existed. She looked at the blank page again. At the KS at the bottom.

KS.. Her heartbeat picked up.

She dropped the letter onto the bed and lunged for her bag -the one she'd carried today- still slumped on her desk chair. Her hands rummaged through it frantically: makeup pouch, hand cream, phone, loose change, a protein bar wrapper..There. The handkerchief.

She'd shoved it in her bag after the staff pulled her away. She hadn't looked at it since. Hadn't wanted to. The whole morning was a bruise she didn't want to touch. But now she pulled it out and held it up to the lamplight.

Dark gray. Soft. Plain except for one small detail stitched into the edge, near the corner. A monogram..KS.

Y/n's breath caught.

She looked at the handkerchief. Then at the letter. Then back at the handkerchief. KS stitched in thread and KS written in ink. Same initials. Same person.

He was the one who'd been sending her letters for months. The stranger in the bathroom. The man in black who'd locked the door and stepped back when she flinched and looked at her like.. Like what? She didn't know how to finish that sentence.

Her mind started spinning. Coincidence? Could it be coincidence? She'd run into that bathroom randomly, fleeing from sasaengs without a plan. There was no way he could have known she'd end up there. Which meant..He was just there.

A fan. A fan who happened to be in the same building, the same bathroom, at the exact moment she needed someone. She thought back to his eyes. Sharp. Fox-like. How they'd stayed on her the whole time, even when he wasn't speaking. Not hungry the way the sasaengs' eyes had been. Not greedy. Just... watching. Like he was memorizing her.

And then the way he'd stepped back. The way he'd dropped his hand and raised his palms when he realized she was scared of him. He could have used that moment. Could have asked for a photo, an autograph, something in exchange for saving her. Most fans would have.

He didn't.

He just stood there, silent, letting her staff pull her away without a single word of protest.She lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling, the handkerchief still clutched in her hand with his perfume still lingering.. KS.

The same person.

Which meant the blank letter wasn't a mistake. He'd sent it on purpose. No quote this time, just the signature. Because he wanted her to notice. He wanted her to look at the initials and remember where she'd seen them before.

He was telling her: It was me. In the bathroom. I'm the one who writes to you. And now she had a choice.

Y/n sat up abruptly. Grabbed her phone. Her fingers moved fast, opening Weverse. She didn't overthink it, if she overthought it, she'd talk herself out of it. She needed to send a signal. Something he would understand if he saw it. Something no one else would think twice about.

She arranged the letters on her bed, just a few of them from tonight's batch, stacked casually, none of their contents visible. Then she placed the pastel blue envelope on top. And beside it, almost touching, the dark gray handkerchief with the corner folded just enough to not show the KS stitching.

The photo looked innocent. Just an idol showing love for fan letters.She uploaded it.

Caption:

"Something scary happened today with people who don't know how to respect boundaries 😤. But overall, I'm happy right now. Feeling peaceful and positive after opening your letters and reading them. You always give me happiness and comfort💗. I really do read them, so please don't stop writing to me! I love you all so much, and I love every word you send me. Your encouragement means everything.

About what happened today, don't worry about me. I'm fine now. Someone actually saved me when it happened. I'm going to call him my secret superhero 🙈. I hope he sees this post and knows I'm grateful to him forever.

Don't forget to come see me at the next fan meeting. I miss you more than you miss me, you know. Love you all 💕"

She stared at the caption for a long moment before posting. Secret superhero. That was clear enough, right? If he was watching, if he followed her posts the way she suspected he did, he'd understand. He'd see the envelope and the handkerchief side by side and know she'd connected the dots.

The blank letter had been his way of nudging her toward the truth.This was hers.

୨ৎ

Across the city, in a room much quieter than hers, a phone lit up on a nightstand.

A young man with sharp, fox-like hazel eyes sat up in bed, heart already pounding before he even unlocked the screen. He'd set notifications for her Weverse posts months ago. Every single one, he saw within seconds.

He opened the photo first.

Pastel blue envelope. Dark gray handkerchief. Placed deliberately. She knew.Then he read the caption.

Secret superhero? His chest went tight.

She wasn't just thanking a stranger. She was thanking him. Specifically him. She was telling him she understood, that she'd figured out the letters and the bathroom and the initials all belonged to the same person, Kim sunoo.

And then "Don't forget to come see me at the next fan meeting." She was telling him to come. Not just to lurk in the back with the cameras and the staff seats as usual. To actually come. To sit in front of her.

She wanted to meet him.

Sunoo set the phone down on his chest and stared at the ceiling, the same way she'd been staring at hers minutes earlier.

She'd seen his face. During the chaos, in the bathroom she'd looked right at him. Unmasked. Would she recognize him at the fan meeting? He always wore a cap and mask to events, stayed in the back, never approached the stage. That was the point. To see without being seen.

But now she wanted to be seen. He didn't know if that made him more terrified or more alive.

Two weeks went by, the group only had one fan meeting scheduled. One single day. So she had to do something, in case he showed up again and tried to hide behind his face mask and cap. She managed to convince her stylist to put her in pastel blue. The exact shade of his envelopes. And right before walking on stage, she tied the handkerchief into her ponytail.

See this? she thought, touching the soft fabric. This is for you. I know you're here. Come to me. Don't just watch from the back.

The fan meeting hall buzzed with energy, hundreds of fans lined up, clutching albums and letters, their excitement a living thing in the air. The members sat on stage in a neat row, smiling bright as the first wave approached for autographs and photos.

Y/n was extra attentive that day. Her eyes kept darting to every person who walked toward her. She greeted each one warmly, signed albums with little hearts, took selfies, laughed at their jokes but her mind wasn't fully there. Her gaze kept flickering to the back rows, scanning faces behind masks and caps and huge cameras.

Hoping for him.

She did all the cringy poses the fans loved. Said her hellos with practiced brightness. But underneath the performance, her pulse was a quiet drumbeat asking the same question over and over:

Is he here? Watching me?

It had been an hour now. No sign of him. Did he not see her post? Not notice what she wore today, the handkerchief tied in plain sight? Or did he see it all and still decide to hide?

Because she had nothing else left. No other way to drag him into coming up and facing her.

She got quieter as the hour stretched. Her energy dropped. No matter how hard she tried to hype herself back up, because the fans deserved the best she could give, because she loved them and they loved her, and besides, this was literally her job, she couldn't fake her way out of disappointment.

She'd hoped so hard. Dressed specially. Tied his handkerchief like a secret message. And for what? To end this event empty-handed?

Minutes ticked by. Her smile became a little more forced, just enough to not upset the fans but the spark in her eyes dulled. Every time a new fan approached with their album, she smiled and signed it..but her gaze kept drifting to the back.

No tall guy in black. No cap. No mask hiding those sharp fox-like eyes. Nothing.

Her heart sank further with each passing minute. Maybe he didn't see her post. Or maybe -worse- he saw it and chose to ignore it on purpose. Like he didn't want to meet her at all. Despite everything. The letters. Saving her that day.

A quiet sadness settled over her. Not anger or frustration. Just genuine disappointment. I had hoped so hard.

There were only twenty minutes left when she did the math. He had to make a decision now, either show up in the seat in front of her, or not. Either way, she'd know. Either way, she'd be sitting here, disappointed, and he'd be the reason.

The line of fans thinned out. Final stretch of signatures and photos. Staff began organizing the last few attendees, ushering them forward quickly, efficiently, like machinery winding down.

When only five minutes were left, Mimi lost hope.

The current fan moved to the next member, and she leaned down to put a gift into the box under the table. She felt the shadow of the next fan already settling into the chair in front of her. She gulped internally, forced a smile, and lifted her head.

"Hi ther--"

She cut off as her eyes widened and goosebumps ran all over her body.

It was him.

But with a mask on and cap pulled low. But she knew those eyes better than her own.

"You came."

The words came out almost a whisper, disbelief and relief tangled together. She tried hard to hide her shock. Cameras everywhere. Staff right behind her. Let's not forget about them.

Now what? Two and a half minutes per fan. That's all she got. That's all she had as she stared back into those hazel foxy, sharp eyes.

The moment their eyes met, those unmistakable brown irises behind the black mask the world around her slowed to a crawl. It was really him.

KS.. The guy who saved her, the one who wrote those letters for months without signing his name. The one whose handkerchief was tied in her hair right now. Sitting right in front of her. Quiet as ever. Not saying a word.

A wave of goosebumps exploded across her skin. Not from fear this time, but pure shock mixed with something electric. Joy? Nervousness? Relief? All of it.

"You came," she whispered again. And he just..stared. No smile. No greeting. Just intense eye contact that felt like it could burn through the cameras and the staff members watching behind her.

The clock ticked: two minutes left.

Say something, say something, say something. That's all that ran through her mind as she grabbed the album in front of her and started signing. Usually they ask for the fan's name so they could write something personal on the album too. She had to take the chance. She knew he was KS, but she didn't know his actual name.

"Your name, handsome guy?"

She used her usual sweet tone for fans, especially guys. It sounded cringy, she knew. But she had to say something to keep it normal for the staff and cameras. And she needed him to speak.

The second she called him "handsome guy" in that sweet, practiced fan-meeting tone, the one she used for all male fans, her own voice sounded a little too cheerful. A little too public. Like nothing was different about this moment.

She waited as she signed, her eyes trembling between his face and the album. Ninety seconds left.

The seconds slipped away fast. Staff would soon signal the next fan to come up, cutting this moment short if he didn't respond. She kept signing his album with shaky hands, her signature neat but slightly wobbly from nerves. Her eyes flicked between his face and the page. Those sharp brown eyes staring right through her like they were memorizing every flicker of her expression.

He still hadn't said anything. No name. No greeting. Nothing. Just silence, heavy and tense beneath the surface of a normal-looking fan meeting interaction.The staff member behind her cleared her throat softly. A quiet warning.

She kept writing, waiting.

The pen hovered. Her heart pounded so hard she felt like everyone could hear it. Seconds ticked down, seventy-five… sixty…

And then -finally- he moved. Slowly, carefully, he lifted the edge of his mask just enough to expose his mouth. Not the whole thing -too risky, cameras everywhere- but now she could see his lips clearly for the first time. Soft. Pinkish-tan. Natural. Well-shaped and plumped.

He opened them slightly.

"Sunoo."

A single word. Deep and smooth. Nothing like what she'd imagined after all those letters. Soft but deep voice. She froze for a second before nodding, biting her lower lip, not bothering to hide her smile.

Finally.

"Sunoo," she repeated. "Sounds beautiful." She set the marker down and focused on his face. His eyes. "So tell me, Sunoo… did you like our last album?"

The moment she said his name, her smile bloomed bright and unfiltered. Not the polite fan-service smile anymore. This was real. Warm. Happy.

"And did you pick a favorite? I'm very interested."

She tried the trick that always made fans melt, girls or guys, didn't matter. She put her hands on the table, fingers slightly parted, palms up. An invitation to hold hands. Hoping he wouldn't embarrass her.

Sunoo looked at her hands. Didn't move right away. For half a second, his eyes dropped to her open palm..then flickered back to her face.

Then, slowly, he lifted his own hand.

If anyone focused on them, they'd notice immediately the way she reached for him the moment his hands came closer. She grabbed them and hugged his fingers with hers. Warm. They were so warm and soft. He still hadn't answered, but they had only forty-five seconds left.

The second her fingers curled around his -warm, soft, surprisingly gentle despite the cameras watching- the whole world narrowed to that single point of contact. Her skin against his. A quiet intimacy in a room full of people.

"Oh, come on, you gotta tell me!" she said with sudden energy, shaking their joined hands. "What about this, I'll tell you which one is my favorite first, then you!"

She caught the sight of his ears turning bright red. So she actually had some effect on him. And the way his eyes wrinkled, went from sharp to soft for a split second.

"Mine is 'Velvet Touch,'" she said, then chuckled. A whisper, like it was a secret she shouldn't share. Her fingers hugged his. It felt exactly like a velvet touch. She waited for his response. Twenty seconds left.

The seconds dropped like stones. Twenty… nineteen… eighteen… She started counting in her head, eyes locked on his face. The softness from earlier was still there, but now mixed with something else. Urgency? Panic? He still hadn't answered. No song. No "I like…" Nothing. Just silence and those deep brown eyes darting between her face and the approaching staff member.

Her heart sank slightly. Was he not going to say anything at all?

She stared back at him, her eyes clinging to his foxy ones. Her fingers tightened slightly on his. Ten seconds left.

"Hmm? You like which one, Sunoo?"

The clock was merciless. And he finally seemed to snap out of his frozen daze when she tightened her grip and whispered that question. That tone. That soft question just for him. The way she said his name again.

Something broke through. No more hesitation.

"Velvet Touch too."

A pause.

Then, quieter deep but , almost shy:

"My favorite song too."

Right when the staff started telling him to move and grabbed her hands to pull them off his, she had to let go.

"You've got taste, Sunoo," she said, her voice coming out more desperate than she meant as they made him stand. "Come back again next time,I will be waiting!."

Somehow, he pulled a letter from his jacket and slid it to her just as the next fan sat down. She grabbed it immediately, thanked him, and tucked it into the box under the table, making a mental note to sneak it into her pocket later. She fought the urge to glance at him as he moved past the table. Forced herself to focus on the girl now sitting in front of her.

But her heart was still drumming harder than ever.

୨ৎ

Y;/n couldn't wait until they wrapped up and got back to the dorm to read it. As soon as the event ended, she excused herself to the bathroom, pulled the letter from where she'd tucked it into her skirt waistband under her blouse, and opened it. Eager to know what he wrote this time. Knowing that she knew who he was now. Was it different? Or the same? A poem?

Her fingers trembled as she unfolded it, a simple folded piece of pastel blue paper, the same shade as all his letters before. But something felt different now. This wasn't anonymous. This wasn't just "KS" hiding behind poetry and distance. Now she knew who he was..Sunoo, her savior.

And yet she still opened it with bated breath,curious, nervous, hopeful.

The letter unfolded easily, revealing neat handwriting. The same elegant cursive she'd memorized from months of anonymous letters. But this time, something was different. No poem. No poetic metaphor about the stars or her smile though he'd written things like that before.

Instead, a single paragraph, short, direct, and devastatingly honest written in dark brown ink:

"I'm glad I saved you, to be your hero when you were always mine. I will always be, so don't worry. I'm also sorry that I scared you. I just wanted to help but was shocked too and didn't know how to react exactly. I just wanted to wipe your tears away, I swear."

That was it. No flourish. No quote. Just raw, unfiltered Sunoo: vulnerable, sincere, and achingly real.

Her breath hitched -once, twice- as she read the lines over and over. Not a poem. Not a pretty metaphor. Just him. "I will always be." A promise. No games. No hiding behind initials anymore. He had just confessed in writing that he saved her not by accident, but because some part of him already loved her, even if neither of them knew it yet.

And then came the apology, the quiet admission that seeing her tear-streaked face terrified him too. That he didn't know how to comfort someone so precious without making things worse. But still: "I just wanted to wipe your tears away."

The innocence in those words crushed her heart.

The letter stayed clutched in her hands long after she left the bathroom. She didn't show it to anyone, not her roommate, not a manager, not even a friend who might've noticed how distracted she was that night.

Back at the dorm, she changed into pajamas but couldn't bring herself to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, Sunoo's face appeared, the way his fox-like eyes softened when he held her hand, how quietly intense he looked behind that mask, and now those words: "I will always be."

They looped in her mind like a song on repeat, playing over and over with no off switch. She turned onto one side of the bed, then flipped back again. Checked under her pillow where his letter rested safely tucked away.

She slept for ten minutes. Maybe twenty. Maybe an hour max. But every time sleep came near, reality kicked back in: He wrote this.

୨ৎ

Sunoo

Three floors below the group dorm, in an apartment he'd paid double the normal rent for just to be as close as possible, Sunoo lay on his bed.

Dim lights. AC blasting cold. Sweat on his skin anyway.

A mess of soft whimpers and deep moans filled the silent room, one hand pressed against his eyes, the other buried inside his shorts. The same hands that had held hers hours ago were now jerking him off, overstimulated because he was still hard even after coming twice already.

The apartment was too quiet, even for midnight. His bedroom door was locked. Curtains drawn. AC blasting cold air to mask the heat radiating off his body.

Sunoo lay on his back, shirtless now, sweating despite the chill, his chest rising and falling fast as he panted through clenched teeth. His hands -those same hands that had held Y/n's just hours ago- were both occupied now: one tangled in his hair on his forehead, gripping tightly like an anchor; the other buried under shorts that had been pushed down halfway over his hips.

"Umm!..!"

A second round hadn't helped. Not at all. In fact, it made it worse.

Every time he closed his eyes, there she was. Smiling. Holding his hand. Calling him "handsome guy" with that sweet voice. That tiny shake of her fingers when she laughed. And then, the moment they touched.

God.

With a loud whimper, he came for the third time, tears threatening to spill, lips bleeding after he'd been chewing on them for the past hot hour. He knew this was wrong. Very wrong. Sinful. Maybe disgusting. And he was probably going to regret it later.

But at the moment? He felt like a cat in heat.

The way she'd called his name for the first time. Reached for his hands first. Laughed with him and smiled at him. Wore his handkerchief as a hair tie and wore his favorite color on her outfit. Everything was just too much for his heart -and his throbbing cock- to not react.

There was a part no one knew about. She was older than him by only two years, but that still counted. It led to him dreaming of calling her noona. But would he dare? Not to her face. But maybe in his current situation, he wouldn't just cry her name, but noona too.

The third orgasm hit him like a tidal wave, uncontrollable, overwhelming, ruining him. He arched off the bed with a muffled cry, biting down hard on his lower lip to keep from yelling her name out loud. The taste of blood bloomed in his mouth. He hadn't even noticed.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, not from sadness or regret, but from sheer emotional overload. Every nerve in his body was fried: overstimulated physically and mentally by what had just happened today.

Y/n. Smiling at him. Calling him Sunoo. Holding his hand first. Wearing pastel blue, the color he associated with letters and secrets. And tying his handkerchief around her hair like it meant something sacred.It was too much for someone as emotionally restrained as Sunoo to handle.

Just as he was whining like a lost dog coming down from that orgasm, his phone binged with a notification from WeVerse. He grabbed it with his clean hand, and his heart drummed louder and harder as he gulped down hardly.

She posted.

A selfie with the outfit from the meeting, showing the handkerchief and part of her blouse, smiling wide.

"Thank you guys for coming today, best day ever 🥺💗! I received a lot of love today and it felt special for some reason! Let's meet again and again and again! Because you guys are my saviors, my heroes. Every time I feel like life is being harsh on me, you show up and light it up. Keep on saving me and I will keep on giving you reasons to do so! Sleep tight and let's dream of each other 🙊💌!!"

It sounded normal. But it wasn't. It was directed at someone specific, and he knew it.

Then the caption. So sweet. So public. But every word was laced with something private, directed at him. "Best day ever." "It felt special." Savior. Hero. Lighting life when harsh.

And that last line: "Let's dream of each other!!"

With a dash between "each other" like punctuation only they would understand.

Sunoo winced audibly this time -a soft, broken sound from deep in his throat- as another wave of arousal crashed over him. For the next minutes, he was just a mess. Sloppy and loud. A whore in heat and need.

The notification remained on his screen, Y/n's glowing smile, the handkerchief like a flag claiming her affection for him. But Sunoo wasn't reading anymore. He couldn't. His brain short-circuited the second that word "each other" sank in with a dash, with meaning, with her looking at that photo and knowing he would see it.

And he did. He saw everything. Every subtext. Every hidden confession in her public post.

And his body didn't care about dignity or control right now, not one bit.

Within seconds, he was back to touching himself again. Rougher this time. Desperate and messy. No patience left for slow buildup or restraint. Her words played on loop behind his closed eyelids as he moaned louder than before, unfiltered sounds filling the quiet apartment.

"U-uhh!.. "

The sounds he made weren't quiet. No soft whimpers or muffled groans. This was loud. Unrestrained. A mess of needy, breathless moans and sharp gasps as he gave in completely to the fantasy she had just fed him with that post.

Every thrust of his hips into his warm soft palm. Every rough slide of skin on sweatpants fabric. All of it because of her. That selfie. That handkerchief. "Each other."

She didn't say it out loud. But she might as well have screamed: "I know you're KS. I know you came today for me."

And Sunoo couldn't handle that level of direct affection, especially from someone like her, kind and radiant, who wore his color like a declaration.

He came again quickly. The fourth time. And this time it wasn't pleasure anymore. It was overload. Emotional collapse mixed with physical exhaustion. Very dry because he already milked himself empty three times before.

"Ahghh-.."

The noises he made weren't pretty or poetic. They were raw, animalistic, and desperate. Each moan ripped from his chest like a confession he couldn't contain.

"Y-Y/n…"

Her name spilled out first, whispered, then louder as the tension peaked. Not in anger. Not in annoyance. But with pure longing. Then came something unexpected. Something no one would ever believe if they heard it. Between heavy breaths and choked gasps, he sobbed it. Not just said it. He screamed:

"Noona!~"

Loud enough that the walls might have vibrated, if anyone had been awake three floors above him to hear through the ceiling. A term of endearment. A call for comfort. For closeness. And though she was only two years older, calling her "noona" felt so right on his tonguea title laced with respect, affection, maybe even worship.

"N-Noona~.."

And it kept getting worse. Hotter. Harder to control. After seeing her post? Her selfie? His mind got foggy. It was even harder because he was almost dry at this point, came three times, milked himself dry, and now it was almost painful and torturous.

His phone lay thrown beside him. His free hand went to his throat. An image flashed behind his eyes: his idol, his noona, from that one music video. A duet dance where she wrapped her hand around the male dancer's throat and bit down on it, a vampire concept. He found himself leaning his neck to the side as he tightened his own fingers around it head thrown back and eyes shut,his Adam's apple scratching his throat, the other hand still stroking fast, the sloppy wet noises audible in the quiet room and everytime it slide over te swollen tip, he bites his bottom lip harder and moan louder.

The air turned thick. Stifling. Electric. Sunoo was burning up, sweat glistening on his collarbones and forehead despite the AC blasting cold. His body ached from overuse but his mind refused to shut down.

That selfie. Her smile. The handkerchief tied like a promise,everything about today, just everything!. And now the memory of her MV role: that slow, seductive dance scene where she played a vampire princess, her pale fingers wrapping around the male lead's throat during their duet. A soft bite on his neck. Control. Power. Dominance laced with intimacy.

He didn't realize it at first. But as he touched himself faster, sloppier, something primal took over.

"Uhh.. "

He tilted his head to one side -exposing more of that long pale neck- and tightened his own fingers around it just slightly.

"Yes, Sunoo, keep going for noona, sweetie~"

Something like her voice whispered in his head.

The imaginary whisper, soft, sweet, and so like her voice, slid into his mind like honeyed silk. It wasn't real. She hadn't actually said that. But in the haze of overstimulation, exhaustion, and pure obsession, his brain conjured her tone perfectly, the warm lilt she used with fans, the gentle teasing he'd only ever dreamed of hearing from her.

And now she was telling him to keep going. Praising him quietly. Calling him "sweetie." Encouraging every rough stroke as if she were right there watching, loving it.

"I-It's too much!.. "

He whimpered at the fantasy, the pressure on his throat mimicking hers in that MV scene but this time not just a vampire bite. Now it felt tender. Affectionate.

"One last time for noona, I know you can" the voice murmured in his mind like a lullaby made of sin and devotion. "Show me how desperate you are. Can you? Will you be a good boy and listen to noona?"

Each word dripped with sweet authority, the kind that would make anyone weak.And Sunoo broke.

"I.. Ah!.. "

No more resistance. No pride. No cold image. Just pure, trembling surrender. His breath came in short gasps as he nodded frantically, even though she couldn't see him and redoubled his movements. Faster. Messier. More urgent than ever before.

Every thrust was an offering. Every whimper a prayer.

"For n-noona!.."

"I'm good.. I will be good!"

"Please noona!..too much~"

This orgasm hit him as hard as ever. He was overstimulated already. Had been like this for the past hour and change. It wrecked him because he was dry,nothing came out but his whole body shuddered and reacted. Almost like his soul left his body.

The orgasm hit like a lightning strike, violent, all-consuming, utterly devastating. But it wasn't physical release in the traditional sense. No cum. No warmth spreading through him. He was dry. Milked clean four times already. But his body was still wired beyond reason every nerve ending screaming from overstimulation, every muscle tensed like a bowstring about to snap.

And then bam. A wave of pure sensation crashed over him. Not pleasure exactly, but something deeper: emotional collapse mixed with sensory overload. His back arched off the bed violently as he shuddered from head to toe, eyes rolling slightly behind closed lids. His mouth fell open in a silent cry and loud gasb. Fingers still tangled at his throat. The other hand frozen mid-air where it had been moving.

"Ahh!!"

For one terrifyingly beautiful second, it felt like his soul left his body. And then he heard it again.

"Such a good boy for me, Sunoo~ You did good, sweetie! Noona is fascinated!"

And he actually cried. Literally cried. Overwhelmed and all.The imaginary praise , soft, warm, so affectionate echoed in his ears like a lullaby from heaven. And that was it. The dam broke. Messy and sobbing.

Sunoo didn't just cry quietly. He wiped. Big, twinkling tears streaming down his flushed cheeks without warning. Not sad cries. Not angry ones. Just overwhelming emotion: relief, joy, disbelief that someone as perfect as Y/n the girl he'd loved silently for months would ever call him "good boy," would ever sound so proud of him.

He curled onto his side on the bed instantly, clutching a pillow to his chest like an anchor while hot tears soaked into the fabric. No one had called him "sweetie" or praised him with such tenderness before. Not even family or friends who knew how hard he worked behind closed doors.

He cried for a hot minute, specifically after coming down from his high. Reality hit him. What he'd just done. What he'd imagined. It was sinful. Filthy. Dirty. Pleasureful. Deadly wonderful. But also shameful. He thought that he was quite the opposite, a bad boy. A very bad one. Not like what the voices had told him.

The tears slowed, but the weight in his chest only grew heavier as reality crashed down hard and merciless.

One minute passed. Then another. And Sunoo lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, heart pounding for a completely different reason now, not from arousal or fantasy, but from shame.

What had he just done?

He replayed it all. The desperate jerking. Screaming "noona." Imagining her voice calling him "good boy" like she loved him, like she was proud of him.

It felt sinful. Filthy. A violation of who he thought he was, the cold, composed person everyone respected. Someone disciplined and serious about image. Not some mess who cried over a woman's virtual praise after getting off multiple times in one night.

His stomach twisted with guilt.

He felt so bad for what he'd done. Disgusted with himself. Because if she ever found out about this in real life? He was absolutely done. Dead.

He pulled his drenched shorts on in a hurry and messy stumbled into the bathroom like a man running from his own sins. The tile floor was cold under his bare feet, but it didn't help, the shame burned through him anyway. He collapsed on the floor right in front of the toilet, knees drawn, His body trembled, not with fever or cold, but with pure emotional wreckage.

Coughs and gags wracked him, dry and painful, as tears spilled again without permission. He wanted to throw up. Really throw up. Like expel everything. All that filth he'd just indulged in. Every dirty fantasy about Y/n.

But nothing came. Just retching silence. A hollow ache in his stomach. And five agonizing minutes of this torment , him curled on cold tiles like a broken kitty regretting its own actions.

He calmed down a little and immediately stepped under the shower. Cold water like ice spilled over him as he gasped loudly and breathed heavily, holding onto the wall in front of him. He washed roughly, as if it was going to help.

The icy water hit his skin like punishment. Sharp. Stinging. Almost painful. He didn't care. He wanted the shock.

He stepped fully under the showerhead, clothes still half-on -he hadn't bothered to strip- and just let the cold cascade over him, soaking his hair, dripping down his face mixed with leftover tears n blood on his bottom lip.

A loud gasp escaped him as he braced both hands against the tile wall in front of him. The contrast between the feverish heat from earlier and this freezing water was too much for his overstimulated body.

But he endured. No turning it warm. No comfort. Just cleanse. Scrubbing roughly with a loofah after finally stripping off, shoulders, chest, arms. Like if he washed hard enough, maybe it could erase everything that had happened tonight.

When he got out, wrapped in a towel robe, he didn't hesitate. He grabbed the sheets -still warm from his body heat- and yanked them off the bed. No sentimental value. No "maybe I'll wash them later." They went straight into a black trash bag. Sealed shut. Like evidence being destroyed.

He changed quickly and avoided looking at his phone entirely. It sat on the nightstand, screen dark. Her WeVerse post probably still open on it. But he couldn't bring himself to check again.

Instead, he climbed back into bed -now with fresh sweatpants and long-sleeve shirt- and curled up under thick blankets like a child hiding from monsters,the monster being his own self.

And there he lay. Shivering, not from cold this time, but sickness and guilt gnawing at him mercilessly.

The apartment was dead silent. No music. No TV. Not even the hum of his laptop. Just Sunoo's quiet breathing and the occasional sniffle as he fought back fresh tears.

He stared at nothing, the wall across from him, a random crack in the paint, but saw nothing. His mind replayed every second: how loud he'd been earlier screaming for her.

And now this. Empty room. Clean bed. Dirty conscience.Guilt coiled around his chest like a snake, tightening with every breath. He wasn't used to feeling this way after something intimate or personal, because usually, he never did anything like this about someone real.

But Y/n wasn't just some fantasy crush anymore and he thought, maybe he went to far..maybe he should stop and let go.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

sunoo pushes himself up from the floor in one fluid motion, black tank clinging to his chest and shoulders. the fabric stretches across broader pecs and defined arms that flex naturally as he reaches for his water bottle. his jawline is sharper, neck thicker, and when he tilts his head back to drink, the line of his throat moves in a way that makes your stomach tighten.

he catches you staring and his lips curve into that familiar pretty smile, but there’s something new in his eyes — something knowing.

“hey,” he says, and god — there it is. that voice. low, rich, a little raspy from hours of singing and counting choreography. not the airy tone he uses on camera or in variety shows. this is the real sunoo voice, the one he saves for late-night calls with you, for moments when the members are asleep and he can drop the bright idol persona.

you swallow. “hi.”

he walks over, towel slung around his shoulders, and stops just close enough that you can smell his cologne mixed with clean sweat. “you came early. missed me that much?”

you reach up and poke his cheek out of habit — the same cheek that used to be so full and doughy. it’s still soft, but now there’s firmness underneath. the baby fat has melted away into sleek, masculine lines.

“i was just thinking,” you murmur, sliding your finger down to trace his jaw. “when did you get so… hot?”

sunoo’s eyebrows lift, a surprised laugh bubbling out of him. that laugh is still bright, but the timbre underneath it is deeper now. it vibrates through his chest.

“me?” he glances down at himself like he’s genuinely unsure, then back at you with a shy little tilt of his head that feels dangerously contrasting to the way his shoulders look right now. “i’m still the same sunoo.”

“no,” you say softly, stepping closer until your chest brushes his. “you’re not.”

his breath catches. the practice room is empty — thank god for that. the members had already left for dinner, but sunoo stayed behind to perfect the last eight counts of the bridge. you lock the door without breaking eye contact.

he watches you, dark eyes flickering with something warmer.

“you really think so?” he asks, voice dropping another notch. that deep tone curls around your spine like smoke. “that i’m hot now?”

you nod, sliding your hands up his arms, feeling the cut of his biceps, the firmness of his triceps. he’s been hitting the gym harder lately. everyone’s noticed the visual upgrade, but they don’t get to feel it like this.

“i used to be able to squish your cheeks for hours,” you whisper, cupping his face with both hands. “now i want to bite them. and then bite your neck. and then—”

sunoo’s hands settle on your waist, fingers pressing in with more confidence than he used to have. he walks you backward until your back meets the mirrored wall. the cool glass contrasts with the heat rolling off his body.

“careful,” he murmurs, leaning in so his lips hover just above yours. “you’re looking at me like you want to eat me.”

“maybe i do.”

he kisses you then — slow at first, almost testing, the same gentle sunoo kiss you fell in love with years ago. but when you tug at the hem of his tank top and slip your hands underneath, feeling the hard ridges of his abs, something in him shifts. the kiss deepens. his tongue slides against yours, and the little sound he makes in the back of his throat is sinfully low.

you pull back just enough to breathe. “take this off.”

he hesitates for half a second — old shy habits die hard — then peels the tank top over his head in one smooth motion. your mouth goes dry.

holy shit.

sunoo has always been slim, but the definition is new. lean muscle carved across his chest and stomach, shoulders broader than they were even six months ago. a faint trail of hair disappears into his sweatpants. when he breathes, everything tightens and shifts beautifully.

you trace a finger down the center of his chest, over the faint lines of his abs, stopping just above the waistband. his stomach jumps under your touch.

“baby…” his voice is even deeper now, husky. “you’re staring.”

“can’t help it.” you lean in and press an open-mouthed kiss to his collarbone, tasting salt on his skin. “you’ve been hiding this from me?”

“i wasn’t hiding,” he laughs breathlessly, but his hands slide down to grip your hips tighter. “i just… kept working out. wanted to be stronger. for stages. for… this.”

he pulls you flush against him. you can feel exactly how much he likes your attention — hard and insistent against your lower stomach. the size of him still surprises you sometimes. another change.

everything about him feels bigger now.

you roll your hips once, teasing, and sunoo’s head falls back against the mirror with a soft thud. the groan that leaves him is deep, resonant. the sound settles low in your belly.

“fuck,” he breathes. “don’t do that unless you want me to lose it.”

you do it again, slower. his fingers dig into your waist.

“you’re so much stronger now,” you whisper against his neck, kissing along the column of his throat. “i can feel it. the way you hold me. the way your voice sounds when you’re turned on…”

sunoo’s cheeks flush, but he doesn’t hide. instead he cups the back of your head and brings your mouth back to his. this kiss is hungrier. he walks you sideways along the mirror until you’re near the couch in the corner of the practice room — the one the members use for breaks.

he sits down first and pulls you onto his lap, thighs straddling him. the position presses you right against his hardness. you rock against him instinctively and he hisses, hands sliding under your shirt to palm your back.

“you’re really into this new version of me, huh?” he teases, but his voice is rough. he nips at your bottom lip. “the deep voice does it for you?”

you nod, grinding down again. “among other things.”

he chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours. then he leans in close to your ear and purposefully lowers his voice even more. “like this?” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “does my baby like hearing me talk dirty in this voice?”

a shiver runs down your spine. you clutch his shoulders, nails digging into bare skin.

“yes,” you admit, breath shaky.

sunoo’s hands slide lower, cupping your ass and guiding your movements against him. slow, hard rolls that make the friction almost too good. his sweatpants and your thin leggings do almost nothing to dull the sensation.

“i’ve been thinking about you all day,” he confesses, voice velvet and gravel at the same time. “during practice. every time i had to sing that lower harmony, i kept remembering how you moaned when i used this voice on the phone last week.”

your face burns. he had called you after a late schedule, tired and horny, and spoken to you in nothing but that deep register until you fell apart just from his words and your own fingers.

he kisses down your neck, sucking lightly, careful not to leave marks the stylists would kill him for. but his hands are bolder — slipping under your shirt to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they pebble under his touch.

“so sensitive,” he whispers. “always so responsive for me.”

you arch into his hands, rolling your hips faster. the hard outline of him presses right against your core with every movement. the fabric between you is damp already — from him, from you, from the heat building between your bodies.

sunoo’s breathing is getting heavier. his forehead rests against yours, eyes half-lidded and dark. “we should stop,” he says, even as his hands keep guiding you, even as his hips push up to meet your movements. “the members might come back…”

but neither of you stops. the rhythm builds — slow, grinding, suggestive. every roll of your hips drags your clothed heat along his length. he groans every time you hit just the right spot, that deep voice making the sounds even more addictive.

you lean down and bite gently at the junction of his neck and shoulder. sunoo’s grip tightens, a low rumble vibrating in his chest.

“careful, baby,” he warns, but there’s no real heat in it. only want. “you keep doing that and i won’t be able to be gentle.”

you pull back just enough to look at him. his lips are swollen, cheeks flushed, hair messy from your fingers. the visual is lethal — cute sunoo mixed with this new, buff, deep-voiced man who looks like he could ruin you and then cuddle you right after.

“i like both versions of you,” you tell him honestly, cupping his face again. “the one with the chubby cheeks who used to fall asleep on my lap during movie nights. and this one…” you run your hands down his chest, feeling every ridge. “this one who can pick me up and pin me against mirrors and talk to me in a voice that makes me weak.”

sunoo’s eyes soften even as lust burns in them. he kisses you again, slower this time, almost reverent. his hands slide up your back under your shirt, tracing your spine.

“i worked hard,” he admits between kisses. “wanted to feel… worthy. of you. of the fans. of standing next to the others without feeling like the baby anymore.”

“you were never just the baby,” you whisper. “but i understand. and sunoo…” you roll your hips once more, deliberately slow. “you’re so fucking hot now it’s actually unfair.”

he laughs, the sound bright and deep at the same time, and suddenly flips you. you’re on your back on the wide couch, sunoo hovering over you. his arms cage your head, biceps flexed, shoulders looking even broader from this angle.

he leans down and kisses you deeply, tongue exploring, hips settling between your thighs. the weight of him feels perfect — solid, warm, safe, and incredibly arousing. he grinds against you in long, lazy strokes, mimicking what he wishes he could do without clothes.

you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. the friction is driving you crazy. every roll of his hips presses right where you need it. your hands roam his back, feeling the muscle shift and flex under smooth skin.

sunoo’s breathing grows ragged. he buries his face in your neck, lips moving against your skin as he speaks.

“i want you so bad right now,” he confesses, voice barely above a whisper but still so deep it makes you clench. “want to take these leggings off and taste you. want to feel how wet you are for me. want to hear you moan my name in that pretty voice while i —”

a loud notification sound cuts through the room — someone’s trying the locked door.

both of you freeze.

sunoo lifts his head, eyes wide, lips kiss-swollen. then he starts laughing, pressing his face back into your neck to muffle it.

“god, no,” he whispers. “that’s probably jake. he always forgets his stuff.”

you giggle too, the tension breaking into something warm and fond. sunoo steals one more slow kiss before pushing himself up. he helps you sit, hands gentle now, fixing your shirt and brushing your hair back from your face.

he pulls his tank top back on, but not before you get one last appreciative look at his torso. he catches you staring and smirks — actually smirks.

“later,” he promises, voice low. “when we’re back at the dorm and everyone’s asleep. i’ll show you exactly how much i’ve changed.”

you bite your lip, already imagining it. “you better.”

he pulls you up from the couch and into his arms, hugging you tightly. even the way he hugs feels different now — stronger, more enveloping. his chin rests on top of your head easily.

“i love you,” he murmurs, the words vibrating through his chest. “all versions of me love all versions of you.”

you squeeze him back, hands roaming his sides. “i love you too. my cute sunoo… and my hot sunoo.”

he laughs again and kisses the top of your head.

later that night, back at the dorm after dinner with the members, he keeps his promise.

the lights are off in his room. the others are scattered — some gaming, some already sleeping. sunoo locks the door and pulls you onto his bed, crawling over you with that same predatory grace he showed in the practice room.

he takes his time undressing you, kissing every inch he reveals. when he finally settles between your thighs, shoulders holding your legs apart, he looks up at you with dark, hungry eyes.

and when he puts his mouth on you, the moan he lets out is deep and filthy.

you have to bite a pillow to stay quiet as he works you with his tongue — slow, thorough, devastating. every lick and suck is accompanied by those sweet, appreciative sounds that make your toes curl. his shoulders flex under your hands. his fingers grip your thighs with just enough strength to remind you how much stronger he’s become.

when you come apart, trembling and whispering his name, he doesn’t stop. he gentles his touch but keeps going, drawing out every last wave until you’re boneless and glowing.

afterward he crawls up your body, kissing his way up until he can hold you against his chest. his heart is racing. he’s still hard against your thigh, but he makes no move to do anything about it.

“not tonight,” he whispers when you reach for him. “i just want to hold you. want to feel you close.”

you trace lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the muscle beneath your fingertips. “you really have changed, you know?”

“in good ways?” he asks, a little vulnerable even now.

“in the best ways.” you press a kiss over his heart. “i fell in love with the boy with the chubby cheeks and the brightest smile. but i’m stupidly, ridiculously attracted to the man you’ve become.”

sunoo’s arms tighten around you. he tilts your chin up for a slow, sweet kiss that slowly turns deeper, tongues sliding, breaths mingling. his hand slips down to cup your ass, pulling you against his thigh so you can feel the hard line of him again.

“we have tomorrow morning too,” he murmurs against your lips, voice husky. “before schedules. i want to take my time. i want to feel you ride my thigh while i tell you exactly what i’m going to do to you when we finally have a whole night alone.”

you shiver at the promise, already grinding softly against the firm muscle of his leg.

sunoo smiles — that mix of sweet and sinful that only he can pull off — and lowers his voice to that devastating register again.

“that’s it, baby. just like that. use me.”

you do. slow, lazy movements while he kisses you and whispers filthy praises in your ear, hands roaming your body with worship and hunger at the same time. he doesn’t let either of you finish again, drawing it out into long, heated teasing that leaves you both breathless and aching in the best way.

eventually you fall asleep tangled together, his strong arms around you, his deep voice humming a quiet lullaby against your hair until your eyes grow heavy.

in the morning you wake to his mouth on your neck and his hand between your thighs, gentle and coaxing. he brings you over the edge with slow fingers and even slower kisses, murmuring how beautiful you are, how much he loves making you feel good, how he’ll never get tired of learning every new way to touch you.

and as you come down, panting softly into his shoulder, you can’t help but smile.

when did you get hot, kim sunoo?

somewhere between i-land and now. somewhere between baby cheeks and defined shoulders. somewhere between sweet high notes and that sinful deep voice that makes your knees weak.

you’re just grateful you get to witness every single version of him — and that this latest one is all yours.

© jongst4r, 2026

His lashes, still coated in the faint remnants of mascara that you haven't gotten to yet, cast soft, feathery shadows against his cheekbones in the lamplight of your bedroom. 

His head is tipped back slightly, resting against the headboard with a kind of boneless exhaustion that makes him look younger, softer, like all the sharpness and charisma and electric stage presence has been peeled away along with the layers of makeup and you're left with just him. 

Just Sunoo. The one only you get to see.

There's a half-empty glass of water on the nightstand. 

You'd placed it there for him before he even arrived, before the knock on the door that came at exactly 11:42 PM, before he practically fell into your arms the second you opened it and buried his face in your neck and held on so tight you could feel his heartbeat through his chest. You'd stood there in your doorway for two full minutes, maybe longer, just holding him while he mumbled "I missed you, I missed you, I missed you" into your skin like a prayer he'd been reciting in his head for hours and finally got permission to say out loud. Two minutes of his weight against yours, his breath warm and unsteady on your collarbone, his hands fisted in the back of your shirt like he was afraid you might dissolve if he let go.

Now he's propped up on your bed, still wearing his stage outfit, his red shirt clinging to his skin with the faint dampness of sweat that hasn't fully dried. 

You'd already wiped the beading sweat from his forehead with a warm towel, traced the damp hair away from his temples, felt the fever-warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. 

The concert had ended around 9:30, but that was never the end of it, was it. 

After the last note faded and the lights went down and the screams dissolved into the hum of the arena packing up, there were still group photos and a mini-meeting and interviews where he'd had to smile and be charming and give thoughtful, articulate answers to questions he'd answered a thousand times before. 

The boys had finished all of that by 10:40 and piled into the van back to their shared dormitory, but Sunoo had made arrangements earlier in the day, told management he'd be booking a private cab to his sister's place because it was his mom's birthday and he wanted to see her, and surprisingly, miraculously, the company had allowed it. 

He didn't have to worry about anyone following him at this hour, the streets quiet and dark and empty, no cameras, no fans lurking in the shadows, just the hum of the cab and the glow of the city passing outside the window and the anticipation building in his chest like a slow, warm tide.

The twist, of course, was that he wasn't going to his sister's place at all.

He was coming to yours.

Gated neighborhood in the middle of the city, security at the entrance, privacy hedges, quiet streets, and the kind of anonymity that money and a good address could buy. Safe. Discreet. Yours.

You move the cotton pad to his other cheek, and he sighs, a soft, tired sound that makes your chest squeeze.

"Your hands are warm," he murmurs without opening his eyes.

"Your face is warm. You're still overheated from the stage."

"Mhm." He tilts his head slightly, leaning into your touch like a cat seeking warmth, and the unconscious tenderness of the gesture makes your throat tighten. "S'nice."

"Almost done. Hold still."

You work in silence for a while, the kind of comfortable, easy silence that only comes from being with someone long enough that you don't need to fill every second with words. 

The lamp on your nightstand casts a warm, golden glow over the bed, over the curve of his cheekbone and the bow of his lips and the long, dark fan of his lashes. 

The pad moves across his forehead, his nose, the delicate skin under his eyes where the eyeliner has smudged into soft, smoky shadows. 

You're careful, so careful, your touch feather-light, because this is the part you love and hate in equal measure. Love because he trusts you enough to sit here with his eyes closed and his guard down and let you take care of him. Hate because it means washing away the evidence of the thing he just did, the thing he does every time he steps on that stage, the thing that makes thousands of people scream his name and reaches millions more through screens and speakers. 

You wipe away the glitter and the gloss and the careful, constructed artifice, and underneath it all is just your boyfriend, tired, sweet, and so beautiful it makes your teeth hurt.

"There," you say softly, setting the used pad on the nightstand. "All done."

He opens his eyes. Slowly, like he's waking from a dream, and the first thing they land on is you, and the smile that spreads across his face is small and private and so genuinely happy that it knocks the air out of your lungs every single time.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi, yourself." You brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead, and he catches your hand and presses a kiss to your palm, his lips warm and dry.

"Thank you for doing this."

"It's just makeup removal, Sunoo."

"It's not just that." He turns his head, still holding your hand, and kisses the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse is hammering. "It's you. Taking care of me. Letting me come here. Being my place to go."

Your heart does something complicated and enormous in your chest, and you have to take a breath before you can respond.

"You're always my place to go too, you know that."

"Yeah." His thumb strokes across your knuckles. "I know."

You sit with that for a moment, the quiet warmth of it, and then you pull back and give him a look. A gentle, practical look, the one you give him when you're about to say something he's not going to like.

"You know," you start, and he immediately narrows his eyes because he knows that tone. "You should take a shower right now. You're still sweaty and there's probably product residue all over you and you'll break out if you sleep like this."

He considers this for a moment, tilting his head, and then a slow, mischievous smile curves across his lips.

"Okay," he says. "Do you want to join me?"

A beat.

"I just showered like three hours ago."

"I'm not buying it."

"It's true! I showered right before you got here. I'm clean."

"Three hours ago," he repeats, and the grin is fully in place now, that devastating, playful, absolutely unhinged grin that he deploys when he's decided he's going to get his way and nothing in the universe is going to stop him. "That's three hours of just, like, existing. Walking around. Sitting on this bed. More dirt has probably accumulated on you in that time. You're basically a biohazard."

"A biohazard. Three hours after a shower? Crazy."

"Think about it. The air alone has particles. Dust. Microscopic things landing on your skin every second. You think water from three hours ago is still protecting you? That's not how it works."

"Sunoo."

"And another thing. Whatever soap you use only kills 99.9% of germs. Not 100%. That means 0.1% of germs survive every wash. Over three hours, those germs have been multiplying. You could be carrying entire civilizations on your arms right now and you wouldn't even know."

"Entire civilizations."

"I'm just saying. For your health."

"You're ridiculous."

"I'm thorough. There's a difference." He's sitting up straighter now, his exhaustion momentarily eclipsed by the gleam in his eyes, and he reaches out and takes your hands in his, tugging you closer. "Please? I haven't seen you in two weeks. I want to be with you. Just... be with you. Is that so bad?"

And honestly, who were you to say no to him?

This was the same guy that thousands, millions of girls thirsted over on a daily basis. 

The same guy whose aegyo clips went viral every other week, whose smile could light up an entire arena, whose voice made people cry on stages across the world. 

The same guy who was currently sitting on your bed at nearly midnight, pouting up at you with those big, bright eyes, asking you to take a bath with him because he missed you.

"Yeah, okay," you say, and the smile that breaks across his face is worth every germ you're apparently carrying.

"Really?"

"Don't make me change my mind."

He releases your hands and falls back against the mattress with a dramatic, happy sigh, arms spread, starfished across your bed like he owns it, and you roll your eyes and drag yourself up and head toward the built-in bathroom in your room. 

Behind you, you hear him shifting on the sheets, making himself comfortable, probably scrolling through his phone, probably texting the group chat something like "at my sister's, goodnight!!" and you smile to yourself at the deception of it all.

The bathroom is small but nice, the way everything in your place is small but nice, a product of living alone in a gated neighborhood where the rent is high and the square footage is modest but the peace of mind is worth every penny. 

You turn on the water in the tub, adjusting the temperature, testing it with your wrist, waiting for the steam to start rising. 

The tub fills slowly, the sound of running water filling the small space, fogging up the mirror above the sink, and you're leaning over the edge checking the temperature when you hear the door open and close behind you, followed by the soft click of the lock.

You turn around.

Sunoo is standing there, right behind you, and the lock clicking into place sends a small, electric jolt down your spine. He doesn't say anything at first. He just steps forward and wraps his arms around you from behind, his chin hooking over your shoulder, his chest pressing against your back, and you can feel the warmth of him, the solid reality of his body against yours, the way his breath fans across your shoulder where his face is pressed.

"Hi again," he mumbles into your skin.

"Hi. Did you lock the door?"

"Mhm."

"We're the only ones here."

"Force of habit." He squeezes you tighter, and you feel his lips curve into a smile against your shoulder. "Also, what if your roommate comes home?"

"I don't have a roommate."

"What if you get one? In the next thirty minutes? A really inconvenient one who doesn't knock?"

"You're so weird."

"You like it."

You do. God, you really do.

You stand there for a moment, wrapped in him, watching the tub fill, the steam curling in the air between you and the mirror, and his hands are resting on your stomach, his fingers playing absently with the hem of your shirt, tugging it up just a fraction, just enough that you can feel the pads of his fingers against the bare skin underneath.

"Water's almost ready," you say.

"Mmm." He doesn't move.

"Sunoo."

"Yes?"

"You're the one who wanted to shower."

"Right. Yeah." He makes zero effort to release you. If anything, his arms tighten, his face burrowing deeper into the curve of your neck, and you feel his lips there, warm and soft, pressing a kiss to the spot just below your ear that he knows makes you shiver. "In a minute. Just... let me hold you a little more."

Your chest aches with how much you love him.

"Okay," you whisper. "A little more."

He holds you until the tub is nearly full and you have to reach over and turn off the water, and even then he only lets go reluctantly, his hands sliding off your waist like it physically pains him to stop touching you. You turn around to face him, and the look in his eyes is soft and warm and a little bit hungry, and the combination of all three makes your stomach flip.

He reaches for the hem of his shirt.

You've seen him undress before. You've seen him in every state of undress, from fully stage-ready to nothing at all, and it shouldn't make your breath catch anymore but it does, every single time, because Sunoo out of his stage clothes is a different kind of performance and you are the only audience member who gets to watch.

He shrugs the shirt off his shoulders and it falls to the floor in a soft heap, and his skin is golden, smooth, and still faintly damp with the remnants of sweat, the defined lines of his chest and stomach on display in the steamy, low light of the bathroom. 

His hands go to his pants next, unbuttoning them, pushing them down his thighs, stepping out of them, and that's when you see them. 

The black Calvin Klein boxers. Snug around his hips, the waistband sitting low, the elastic lettering stark against his skin, the fabric doing absolutely nothing to hide the shape of him underneath.

You look. You can't help it. Your eyes drag down his torso, and you catch a glimpse of the outline of him, thick and warm and resting heavy against his thigh, and heat floods your face so fast you're sure you're the color of a tomato.

He notices.

Damn it.

Of course he notices. 

Sunoo notices everything. His eyes flick to your face, catching the way your gaze dropped, the way your lips parted, the flush creeping up your neck, and the corner of his mouth twitches but he doesn't say anything. He just looks at you, and there's something dark and knowing in his eyes, something that says I saw that, and the silence is worse than if he'd said something out loud.

You clear your throat. "Your turn to, um. Wait, no. My turn to undress. Or. Whatever."

"Smooth." He's grinning now, and you want to kiss it off his face.

"Shut the hell up."

"Never in a billion years, cutie."

You don't rise to the bait, because you know that's what he wants, and if you start now you'll never make it into the tub. Instead, you reach for the hem of your own shirt, but his hands get there first.

"Let me," he says, and his voice has dropped, gone softer, and the playfulness is still there but it's layered over something more serious now, something reverent.

He lifts your shirt slowly, his fingertips skimming along your sides as the fabric rises, and you lift your arms and let him pull it over your head. The steam hits your bare skin immediately, warm and damp, and goosebumps rise anyway, because his fingers are still tracing along your ribcage, light as a whisper, and every nerve ending in your body is standing at attention.

He unclasps your bra next, his fingers working the hooks with a practiced ease that makes something warm and possessive curl in your stomach, and it slides down your arms and joins the growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Then his thumbs hook into the waistband of your pajama shorts, and he kneels, looking up at you with those big, dark eyes, and drags them down your legs along with your underwear, his fingers trailing down your thighs, your knees, your calves, until you step out of them and you're standing in front of him in nothing at all.

He's still kneeling.

And he looks up at you.

The look on his face is something you will never, for the rest of your life, be able to adequately describe. 

It's not lust, exactly, though that's there too, a dark heat in his eyes that makes your skin prickle. It's not just admiration, though there's that as well, the way his gaze moves over your body like he's committing every curve and line to memory. It's something deeper. Something like awe. Something like worship.

He rises to his feet slowly, and his hands find your waist, steadying you, and he leans in and presses a kiss to your collarbone. Then another, slightly higher, at the base of your throat. Then another, on the side of your neck, and another on the curve below your ear, and another on your cheek, soft and warm and achingly tender, and when he pulls back just enough to look at you, his lips are so close to yours that you can feel the breath of his words on your skin.

"You are so beautiful."

Four words. Four stupid, simple, devastating words, and the heat that pools between your thighs is so sudden and so intense that you have to squeeze your legs together, your body responding to him on a level that has nothing to do with thought and everything to do with something deeper, something primal, something that has been building since the moment he walked through your door.

His hands tighten on your waist. He felt that. Felt the way your body swayed toward his, the way your breath caught, the way your skin flushed beneath his fingers.

"Sunoo," you breathe, and it comes out way needier than you intended.

He smiles. That soft, secret, devastating smile.

He removes his boxers. Quick, efficient, no ceremony, just the fabric sliding down his legs and then he's bare in front of you, his cock half-hard, thick and flushed against his thigh, and you don't have time to look because he's already stepping toward the tub, swinging one leg over the edge and sinking into the hot water with a groan that reverberates off the tile walls and straight into your chest.

"Goodness, that feels good," he sighs, settling back against the sloped end of the tub, the water coming up to his chest, lapping at his shoulders. Steam rises around him, catching the light, and he looks like something out of a painting, golden and flushed and beautiful. He lifts a hand and pats his lap, the water splashing gently with the movement. "Come here."

You step into the tub carefully, the water hot but not scalding, the perfect temperature, and you settle onto his lap as gracefully as you can manage, which is not very gracefully at all, your legs bracketing his hips, your back against his chest, your body awkward and floaty in the water as you try to find a position that doesn't involve you sliding off him or crushing his legs. 

He laughs, soft and warm, and his hands find your hips, steadying you, pulling you back against him, and you feel his cock, half-hard and warm, pressing against your lower back.

"Relax," he murmurs against your ear, his lips brushing the shell of it. "I've got you."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and your body goes loose against him, your head tipping back to rest on his shoulder, the hot water and the steam and the solid warmth of his body underneath you combining into something so deeply, overwhelmingly soothing that you could fall asleep right here.

"See?" His arms wrap around your middle, his chin hooking over your shoulder. "Isn't this better than showering alone?"

"I never said I wanted to shower alone."

"You implied it."

"No, the fuck? I did not."

"You said, and I quote, 'I just showered three hours ago.'"

"That's stating a fact, not implying anything."

"Mhm. A fact that was clearly a defense mechanism because you didn't want to admit you wanted to see me naked."

You swat at his arm, and he catches your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles one by one, and you feel his smile against your skin.

"You're impossible," you tell him.

"You like it," he says, for the second time tonight, and he's right, and you both know it, and the worst part is he knows you know he knows it, which is just insufferable.

For a while, you just sit. The water laps gently at your bodies, the steam rises, the bathroom is warm and close and dim, and his hands rest on your stomach, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on your skin underneath the water. 

Your eyes drift closed. 

His breathing is slow and even against your ear. 

It's peaceful. 

It's so, so peaceful.

Then his hands start to wander.

It's subtle at first. The lazy circles on your stomach migrating upward, his fingertips grazing the underside of your breast, then retreating, then coming back, a little higher, a little more deliberate each time. You feel your breath catch, feel the way your body tenses and then forces itself to relax, and you know he can feel it too, because you feel the curve of his smile against your shoulder.

"Sunoo."

"Hmm?"

"Your hands."

"What about them?"

"They're wandering."

"They're exploring. There's a difference." His palms slide up, cupping your breasts under the water, and the warmth of his hands combined with the warmth of the water and the cool prickle of the air on your exposed shoulders is a sensory overload that makes you arch into his touch, your nipples hardening against his palms. "There we go," he murmurs, and his voice has dropped into that lower register, the one that makes your stomach tighten and your thighs press together. "See? Your body wants me to touch you. Who am I to argue?"

"You're insufferable."

"And you're gorgeous." His thumbs find your nipples, circling them slowly, pressing, rolling, and the sparks of sensation shoot down your spine and straight between your legs, and you bite your lip to keep from making a sound that would only encourage him. "And you're biting your lip right now because you're trying not to moan and that's the hottest thing I've ever seen."

You release your lip. He laughs, low and warm, and his thumbs keep moving, keep circling, keep pressing, and his mouth finds the side of your neck and presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss there, his tongue dragging across your pulse point, and the combination of his hands on your breasts and his mouth on your neck is too much, it's too much, and a soft, breathy moan slips out before you can stop it.

"There she is," he whispers against your skin, and you can hear the smile in his voice, the dark, hungry edge of it. "My girl."

Dating an idol meant seeing his fans go absolutely bat shit crazy over him, and his whole group rather. 

You'd be on your burner account at two in the morning, scrolling through posts where fans rated the members by freak level, making elaborate tier lists with screenshots and video evidence and increasingly unhinged commentary, and Sunoo would always, always be placed last. Dead last. Bottom of the barrel. The sweet one, the innocent one, the one who blushed at the mere suggestion of anything remotely suggestive. The one who covered his face during the sexy choreography moments. The one who looked like he'd never so much as held a girl's hand, let alone done anything else.

And in reality, he was a freak.

Everyone in his group was a freak, honestly, that was just what happened when you put seven twenty-something-year-olds in high-pressure situations with impossible schedules and no time for normal relationships. They were all dealing with it in their own ways. But Sunoo didn't show it so much, or at least he didn't show it the way the others did, the way that made fans notice and clip and analyze. He kept it contained, controlled, channeled it into performances and variety show appearances and that megawatt smile that could power a small city. He kept it under wraps, and the world bought it, hook, line, and sinker.

But you knew better.

You knew that the same hands that fans gushed over for being so delicate and pretty, the same fingers that pressed against his cheek during aegyo, the same palms that waved at cameras with practiced sweetness, were the same hands that currently had your breasts in their grip, thumbs working your nipples with a precision and intensity that spoke to hours of practice, a dedication to your pleasure that bordered on obsessive. 

Kim Sunoo was a fucking freak, and his freak was your pleasure over anything else, always had been, and the thought of all those fans getting it so spectacularly wrong while you were the only one who knew the truth was honestly kind of hot.

He was a cutie pie to say the least.

But he was sinfully hot too.

One hand leaves your breast, and you're about to protest, but then you feel it traveling downward, his fingers trailing over the plane of your stomach, dipping below the water, tracing along the crease of your thigh, and your breath stutters in your chest.

"May I?" he asks, and his voice is soft against your ear, gentle, asking permission even though his hand is already hovering right there, right at the apex of your thighs, and the anticipation is killing you.

"Yes," you whisper, and his fingers slide between your legs.

The first touch is electric. 

His fingertips glide through your slick, swollen flesh, and the sound you make is embarrassing, a sharp, needy gasp that echoes off the bathroom tiles, but you can't bring yourself to care because his fingers are right there, right where you need them, and the relief and the pleasure are so immediate that your head drops back against his shoulder and your eyes flutter shut.

"So wet already," he murmurs, and there's wonder in his voice, genuine wonder, like he still can't quite believe the effect he has on you even after all this time. His fingers explore you slowly, dragging through your arousal, spreading it, circling your entrance, brushing against your clit with a feather-light touch that makes your hips jerk. "Baby, you're dripping. I've barely touched you."

"You've been touching me for ten minutes," you manage, and your voice comes out shaky and thin.

"Is that a complaint?"

"No."

"That’s neat." His middle finger slides inside you, slow and deliberate, and the stretch of it, the intrusion, the way your walls clench around him like they're trying to pull him deeper, makes you both groan, his sound muffled against your neck, yours echoing off the tile. "God, you're so tight. So warm and tight and perfect and just—fuck. Feel that? Feel how good you take my finger?"

"Fuck yes," you breathe, and then his ring finger joins, two fingers sliding into you, stretching you open, and you whimper, your hand flying back to grip his hair, your fingers tangling in the damp strands.

"That's it," he says, and his voice is low and rough and so impossibly filthy that it makes your walls clench around his fingers. "Take it, baby. Let me feel you. Let me make you feel good."

He starts to move. Slowly at first, a steady, deep rhythm, his fingers curling inside you on every stroke, pressing against that spot that makes your vision white out at the edges, and his other hand is still on your breast, kneading, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

The sensation is too much, everything at once, and the sounds you're making are getting louder and needier and you can't bring yourself to care about the echoes or the thin walls or anything except his fingers inside you, his hand on your breast, and his mouth hot against your neck.

"Clench around me," he moans into your ear, and his voice breaks on the words, rough and desperate and filthy, and your body obeys before your mind can process the command, your walls clamping down around his fingers so hard he groans, a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through his chest and into your back. "Yes, just like that, good girl, you're doing so good, you feel so fucking good around my fingers, baby."

His fingers speed up, thrusting deeper, harder, the obscene sound of them moving inside you barely muffled by the bathwater, and you're shaking, your thighs trembling on either side of his, your hand gripping his hair so tight it must hurt but he doesn't complain, he just groans against your neck and fucks you harder with his fingers and rolls your nipple between his fingers and whispers filthy, devastating things into your ear.

"My sweet girl," he breathes, and the petname lands somewhere deep in your chest and blooms warm and desperate. "My pretty, perfect girl. You're so beautiful when you're falling apart for me. You know that? You're so damn beautiful and you're all mine."

"Of course—all—shit—yours—ugh," you echo, and the words come out broken, fragmented, barely more than a moan.

"That's right." His thumb finds your clit and presses, circling in tight, firm movements while his fingers continue their relentless rhythm inside you, and the combined sensation is a freight train bearing down on you, the orgasm building fast and hard and unstoppable. "You're mine, angel. Mine to touch, mine to taste, mine to take apart and put back together. And no one else will ever know how pretty you sound when you're about to come on my fingers."

"Sunoo, I'm, I'm close, I'm—"

"I know, baby. I can feel you. You're squeezing me so tight. Come for me. Come on my fingers like a good girl."

You come with his name torn from your throat, your back arching off his chest, your walls clamping down around his fingers in pulsing, rhythmic waves that make him curse under his breath, and he works you through it, his fingers never stopping, his thumb still circling your clit, his mouth pressing hot kisses along the line of your neck and shoulder, and the orgasm rolls through you in long, shuddering waves that leave you trembling and boneless against him.

When the aftershocks finally ebb, he slides his fingers out of you slowly, and you whimper at the loss, at the empty feeling, at the way your walls clench around nothing. 

He brings his fingers up out of the water, and you can see the slick sheen of your arousal on them, and he brings them to his lips and licks them clean with a deliberate swipe of his tongue that makes heat pool in your stomach all over again.

"Sweet," he murmurs, and his eyes meet yours, dark and hot. "Always so sweet."

You turn around in his lap, shifting in the water until you're facing him, your knees on either side of his hips, your hands on his shoulders, and you can feel him beneath you, hard and thick and pressing against your stomach, and you reach down without thinking and wrap your hand around him.

He hisses, his head tipping back, his eyes squeezing shut, and the sound of it, the raw, unguarded need, sends a sharp pulse of heat straight to your core. 

You start to move your hand, stroking him slowly, feeling the weight and heat of him in your palm, the way he twitches and pulses against your fingers, the way water and slick make everything slide so easy and smooth.

"Baby," he gasps, and his hands find your waist, gripping hard. "You don't have to—"

"I want to." You stroke him slower, twisting your wrist on the upstroke, your thumb circling the head, and he makes a sound that's somewhere between a moan and a sob and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever heard. "Let me take care of you too."

His forehead drops to your shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against your skin, and you work him slowly, deliberately, your hand moving in a steady, tight rhythm while the water laps around you both. He's thick and hard and so hot in your hand, and every stroke draws a sound from him, little broken gasps and low, desperate moans that you want to record and keep forever.

"Feels so good," he whimpers against your shoulder, and the vulnerability in his voice, the way he lets himself be needy with you, the way he doesn't hold back, makes something crack open in your chest. "Your hand feels so fucking good, baby, I've been thinking about this all day, about you, about your hands on me, about—fuck—about the way you look at me when I'm falling apart—"

"Look at me," you say softly, and he lifts his head, and his eyes are glassy and dark and so full of love and want that it steals your breath.

"Hi," he whispers.

"Hello." You stroke him once more, firm and slow, from base to tip, and he shudders, his jaw clenching. "You want to be inside me?"

"Fuck yes please," he breathes, and there's no hesitation, no coy deflection, just raw, honest need. "Please. I need you. I need to feel you."

You lift your hips, positioning him at your entrance, and you sink down onto him in one slow, devastating movement.

The stretch is overwhelming. 

He's thick, thicker than his fingers, and your body is still sensitive from your first orgasm, every nerve ending alight, and you feel every inch of him as you take him in, feel the way your walls stretch and yield and grip him like they never want to let go. 

He groans, long and broken, his head falling back against the edge of the tub, his hands gripping your waist so hard.

"Princess," he chokes out, and his voice is wrecked, barely recognizable. "God, you feel—you're so tight, you're so warm, I—fuck—"

You bottom out and still, letting yourself adjust, letting the fullness of him settle into your body, and his hands are shaking on your waist, his chest heaving, his eyes squeezed shut, and you can tell he's using every ounce of self-control he has not to thrust up into you.

"Open your eyes," you say gently.

He does. And the look in them, the raw, open, desperate love, makes your heart clench so hard it physically hurts.

"Hey," you whisper.

"Hey." He smiles, and it's wobbly and soft and so genuinely happy that you have to lean down and kiss him.

You start to move. Slow, rolling movements of your hips, grinding down onto him, feeling him shift inside you, feeling the head of his cock drag against that spot that makes your breath catch. The water moves with you, sloshing gently against the sides of the tub, and the sound of it mixes with the sounds you're both making, soft moans and sharp gasps and the wet, slick noise of your bodies joining.

"You feel so good," he murmurs against your lips, and his hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts again, thumbs finding your nipples, and you whimper into his mouth and clench around him and he groans. "Doll, you're killing me. You're so perfect. So fucking perfect for me."

"Sunoo—"

"I love you," he says, and he says it like a confession, like it's the most important thing he's ever said and he needs you to know it right now, in this moment, while he's inside you and your bodies are moving together, the steam is rising around you, and the world outside this bathroom doesn't exist. "I love you so much. You know that, right? You're everything. You're everything to me."

"I know," you whisper back, and your voice cracks on it, because you do know, you've always known, and the knowing is so big and so terrifying and so wonderful that sometimes you don't know what to do with it. "I love you more."

He kisses you again, deeper, hungrier, his tongue sliding against yours, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements, and you ride him in the warm, steamy water, your bodies finding a rhythm that's slow and deep and so full of feeling that it borders on overwhelming.

After a while, his hands still on your hips, and he pulls back from the kiss, his breathing ragged.

"Turn around," he says, and his voice is low, rough. "Let me—I want to—"

You understand.

You lift yourself off him, the loss of him inside you making you both hiss, and you shift in the tub, turning around, and he guides you forward until your hands are braced against the wall of the tub, the cool tile meeting your palms, and you feel him behind you, his body pressing against your back, his cock hot and hard against your ass.

"Is this okay?" he asks, and even now, even in this moment, he checks, he always checks, and the tenderness of it makes your eyes sting.

"Yes," you breathe. "Please."

He slides into you from behind, and the new angle is deeper, different, hitting places inside you that make you gasp and grip the tile harder, and his chest is pressed against your back, his lips at your shoulder, his hands on your hips as he starts to move.

The rhythm he sets is slow at first, deep and grinding, each thrust pressing you against the cool tile wall of the bathroom, and the contrast of his hot body behind you and the cold surface in front of you and the warm water around your legs is sensory overload in the best possible way. 

His mouth finds the back of your neck, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses against your skin, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, and you moan, loud and shameless, the sound bouncing off the tile and filling the small room.

"Good girl," he groans against your skin, and the petname in this position, in this voice, makes your walls clench around him so hard he stutters. "My good girl. Taking me so well. You feel so perfect around me, baby. So fucking perfect."

He speeds up, his hips snapping forward harder, and the sound of skin meeting skin is wet and sharp and obscene, the water churning around you with every thrust, and his hand comes around to your front, his fingers finding your clit, circling it with a firm, deliberate pressure while his other hand grips your hip, pulling you back onto him with every stroke.

"Sunoo—oh my god—"

"That's it, angel. Let me hear you. Let me hear how good I make you feel."

"I'm close again, I'm—you're gonna make me—"

"Come for me, princess. Come on my cock. I want to feel you."

And you do. 

The orgasm crashes through you harder than the first one, deeper, your entire body shaking, your walls clenching around him in waves that pull him over the edge right after you. 

He buries himself deep with a broken moan of your name, his forehead pressed against your shoulder, his hips jerking in short, erratic thrusts as he comes inside you, hot and thick and so much, and you can feel it, feel the warmth of him filling you up, and the sensation triggers another small, shuddering wave of pleasure that makes you both whimper.

You stay like that for a long moment, his chest against your back, his arms wrapped around your middle, his cock softening inside you, the water lapping gently at your bodies. 

His breath is warm and slow against your shoulder, and you can feel his heartbeat, feel it gradually slowing from its frantic pace to something calmer, steadier, and you close your eyes and lean back into him and just breathe.

"Hey," he says eventually, his voice soft and hoarse.

"Hello."

"Are you okay?"

"Yep. More than okay."

He presses a kiss to your shoulder, then another to the back of your neck, and he pulls out of you slowly, carefully, and you both wince at the sensitivity. He turns you around gently, his hands on your waist, and he looks at you with those big, bright, post-orgasm eyes that are half-closed and hazy and so full of love that it makes your stomach do a flip.

"Hi," he says again, and he's smiling, that soft, dopey, completely blissed-out smile that you've only ever seen in moments like this, and you laugh and cup his face in your hands and kiss him, soft and slow and tasting like nothing and everything.

"Come on," you murmur against his lips. "Let's actually get clean."

He groans, but it's a happy groan, and he lets you reach for the body wash on the edge of the tub. 

You squeeze some into your palm and work it into a lather, and then you start to wash him, your hands moving over his shoulders and chest and arms, tracing the lines of his muscles, the dips and curves of his body, and he watches you with that soft, wondering expression like he still can't quite believe this is real.

You wash his hair next, your fingers massaging his scalp, and he practically melts, his eyes closing, his head tipping back, a low, contented hum rumbling in his throat. 

You take your time with it, working the shampoo through the strands, rinsing it out with cupped handfuls of water, and when you're done, his hair is soft and clean and falling across his forehead in a way that makes him look so boyish and pretty that you have to resist the urge to kiss him again.

His turn now, and he's gentler than you expected, given how desperate he was earlier. 

His hands move over your body with a reverence that borders on worship, soaping your shoulders and back and stomach, his touch careful and thorough and achingly tender. 

He washes your hair too, his fingers working through the strands with a patience that makes your eyes sting, and when he rinses the shampoo out, he presses a kiss to your wet forehead and whispers, "My beautiful girl."

By the time you're both clean, the water has gone lukewarm, and you drain the tub and step out onto the bath mat, reaching for towels. He takes one and wraps it around your shoulders, then grabs another for himself, and you stand there in the steamy bathroom, damp and flushed and so deeply, ridiculously happy that it feels almost illegal.

He takes your hand and leads you back to the bedroom, and you both tumble onto the sheets, still slightly damp, the cool air making you shiver, and he pulls the blanket up over both of you and tucks you against his side, your head on his chest, his arm around your shoulders, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm.

"Your skin smells like my body wash," he says after a moment, and there's a note of satisfaction in his voice that makes you laugh.

"Whose fault is that?"

"I'm not complaining." He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and his arm tightens around you. "I like it. You know—you, like—smelling like me. Like you're mine."

"I am yours."

"Yeah." You can hear the smile in his voice, feel it in the way his chest rises and falls with a deep, contented breath. "Yep, you are."

The room is quiet around you, the only sounds the distant hum of the air conditioning and the soft rhythm of his breathing and the occasional car passing outside, so far away it might as well be another world. 

His heartbeat is steady under your ear, a slow, calming drumbeat that lulls you toward sleep, and his fingers are still tracing those lazy, absent patterns on your arm, like he needs to keep touching you even now, even in the quiet, even when there's nothing left to prove.

"Sunoo," you murmur, half-asleep already.

"Hmm?"

"Your mom's birthday."

A pause. Then a quiet, sheepish laugh. "I'll call her first thing in the morning. She'll understand."

"Will she?"

"She loves you. She'd want me here."

"You don't know that."

"I do, actually. She told me." He shifts, tilting his head to look down at you, and there's so much warmth in his eyes, so much quiet certainty, that you almost can't look at it directly, like staring at the sun. "She said, and I quote, 'stop being stubborn and go see that girl, you've been moping for two weeks.' So what? She’ll get mad at that?"

"You were moping?"

"I was severely moping. It was tragic. The members staged an intervention."

"Oh my god."

"Jungwon made a PowerPoint. It had pie charts."

You laugh so hard your body shakes against his, and he grins and pulls you closer, and the sound of your laughter mixes with the sound of his and fills the room with something bright and warm and so completely, impossibly good.

When the laughter fades, you settle back against him, and the silence returns, comfortable and full, and his hand comes up to cup the back of your head, his fingers threading through your damp hair.

"Go to sleep," he murmurs. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?"

"Pinky promise." He kisses your forehead, long and lingering, and his lips are warm and soft and familiar. "Always."

You close your eyes, and his heartbeat is the last thing you hear before sleep pulls you under, steady and sure, and the last thought you have before everything goes soft and dark and quiet is that you are the luckiest person in the entire world, and that Sunoo, with his stage makeup stripped away and his stage presence folded up and stored somewhere for tomorrow, is just a boy in your bed who loves you, and that's the most precious thing you'll ever have.

Outside, the city sleeps too, indifferent and unaware that somewhere behind the gates and the hedges and the locked doors, an idol is holding his secret close and falling asleep with her heartbeat against his chest, and neither of you would trade it for anything.

⭐️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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💿 ࿐ . . best part by daniel caesar

✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !

-

It was three in the afternoon and yet, the sun was nowhere to be found. 

You looked up to the sky, seeing how fast the gray clouds swarmed the whole area, you assumed that rain showers were going to visit anytime. You’re used to Seokdo's unpredictable weather that’s why you decided to gather the clothes you’ve washed earlier and have it dry inside your house instead.

You hummed a soft melody as you took off the clothes from the clothesline. The spring breeze was still so calm and cold despite the dimmed sky, making you relaxed. You loved this feeling. You’ve gotten used to your lifestyle ever since you arrived in Seokdo. There were no regrets inside you but instead, you feel like you’ve achieved a more fulfilled tranquility.

There’s nothing more serene than living in the countryside — away from the crowded city of Seoul, away from the sky-high buildings and polluted humid weather. 

Away from him. You’re your own person in this place. Your ring finger was empty as the cold band was stored somewhere on your small jewelry box back in Seoul. Seven months have passed and you have gotten used to the freedom of your choice. You unknowingly smile as you inhale deeply, immersing yourself in the serene life of living alone in Seokdo.

But before you could fully immerse yourself, you heard a loud engine of a motorcycle driving towards your area. You turned your head towards the sound and immediately assumed that maybe, it was just one of the nice uncles, perhaps bringing you their harvest again. 

That’s why you moved out of instinct, went out to check it but you immediately froze when you saw who’s in front of your gate. 

“Found you.” 

“Sunoo,” you breathed, feet nailed to the ground as your eyes widened. “How the fuck —”

“You really chose a great place for hiding from me,” he teased. Demeanor still calm and cold as he casually walked towards you. 

“How did you know?” you raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, you really think you can hide from me?”your husband laughed, tone deeper than usual. “That’s your first mistake sweetheart.”

“It took you seven months to find me?” you taunted.

“Doesn’t matter how long I did, what matters is that I found you,” from there, he grabbed you by the arms. “And we’re going home.” 

“I’m not going with you!” you shouted as you attempted to escape his hold, and yet, it was no match for Sunoo who only stood there, surprised by your action.

“Do you hate me that much?” he asked, tone feigning with curiosity. “What did I even do to you?”

“What do you think Sunoo?” you asked back, tone angry and expression filled with irritation that it surprised the man for a second.

“I have no time to deal with your riddles y/n,” Sunoo coldly stated. His grip on you became tight as he yanked you close to him. Eyes meeting his cold ones. “Do you think I like this silly mousechase? Do you even know how much of a burden it was for everyone. Every. Single. One asking me where the fuck are you?”

A sly smirk formed on your lips instead. “Good.” 

“Good?” he chuckled in disbelief. “You love putting me in hell, huh?”

“That shouldn’t be new to you,” you spat back. “This marriage has been a hell after all.”

Sunoo stared at you for a good minute until something in his thought clocked. “Ah. I get it now.”

“You understood now?” you questioned, appalled.

“Yeah,” he said sharply. “That you’re doing this to taunt me. You’re doing this to challenge our marriage. Are you that bored?”

“Are you that fucking dense?” you asked him back. “The last thing I want to do is to do something that will gain a single glimpse of your attention. Dream on Sunoo.”

Along with your sharp words, a series of thunders roared across the sky, and before you two could’ve reacted, rain started to pour. Heavy and huge droplets and yet, not a single one of you moved.

“Go home Sunoo!” you shouted as you attempted to yank your arms away but your husband was persistent.

“I am going home but I will make sure to bring you with me!” Sunoo declared.

You laughed. “For what!? So that you’d be praised that you had found your wife? That’ll boost your fucking ego won’t it?”

“Right, because the only one who could fucking tame my reckless wife is me!” he argued back and with that, he carried you by your waist, earning a loud scream from you.

“Put me down! What the hell —” you didn’t even notice that Sunoo had dragged you back inside your house until you heard the door closed in a loud thud and he placed you down on the floor. Both of you were already drenched, making you flinch at the coldness of the rain. 

“You had the audacity to think you’re welcome here,” you told him, who busied himself with removing his coat.

“Where’s your bathroom? We should change or else we might get sick,” he stated instead, making you scoff.

“That’s your concern?”

“I am allowed to be concerned for our well-being wife,” he answered and his words caused you to flinch — no, some part inside your heart jumped. The rush of blood flushed towards your cheeks, completely malfunctioning your brain while Sunoo stood there with a smirk on his face.

“Flustered? That I addressed you in that way?” he teased and you snapped.

“No, I am surprised,” you answered immediately. “That you’d addressed me in that way when you’ve treated me like a ghost for the past three years.”

“Does that even matter to you? We’re still married.”

“Don’t pull that card right now Sunoo, we never acted like one. I don’t even know why the hell you’re here.” you objected angrily.

“Everyone’s looking for you,” Sunoo answered

You raised an eyebrow. “That includes you?”

Sunoo didn’t answer. He only stared at you with a blank expression, and his silence concluded you to his answer. That’s why you smiled at him, bitter and short as an understanding nod was all you gave him. 

“The first boat to Jeju will be tomorrow at eight am, just so you know, I have no plans on returning to Seoul — especially to you, so leave me alone and return.” you informed him.

“I am not leaving this damn place without you. Despite the crap arrangement we have, you are my wife. You are my responsibility whether you and I like it or not. Now, you fucking listen to me. I have other important things to deal with within my company, so let’s make this trip short and return to Seoul first thing in the morning, alright?” Sunoo explained and you only crossed your arms.

“You’re insane to think I’d fold to you Sunoo. You’re only my husband by papers and I’ll make sure that it’ll stay that way.” You breathed. “You’re in my house, so you fucking listen to me. I’ll let you stay the night but I want you out of my place first thing in the morning, alright?”

“And we can’t have what we want, you know that?” he taunted and that made you chuckle.

“You’re right, so enjoy freezing to death there Mr. Kim,” you mocked as you left him standing there. 

You went straight to your room. Closing it with a small thud before you leaned against the door. Clutching your beating heart as it pounded nonstop out of nervousness.

Sunoo’s here.

Kim Sunoo. Your husband of three years. One of the most influential businessmen in your country is here in a small isle, eight miles north from Jeju island. It takes four to five hours to go here by boat, and he did that just to take you home — his wife of three years.

It would’ve sounded so sweet. A gesture of a dedicated husband who found his wife after months of searching, but all you could see was that egoistic move of his. Everything feels like an act. Everyone would praise him if he’d be the one who’d bring you home after you ran away.

That was the last thing that you wanted to happen. You’re never going to fold to your husband. You know what awaits you once you return to Seoul. An earful lecture from your parents and in-laws, an apology from your distressed twin brother, and last of all — divorce papers from your husband, the very reason why you left in the first place.

You admit that you’re scared of Sunoo. He was a powerful man after all. Old money. Name plastered at every corner of South Korea, he and his family could make your family’s company crumble in a split second. That’s why it’s not a surprise that he could divorce you any time he wants. 

It was an accident. You overheard his conversation with his family’s lawyer. It was a suggestion of divorcing you, simply because it was a trend nowadays.

The cherry on top of what you heard was Sunoo asking for more information about the divorce.

You were frozen. Disbelief entered your system as your anger towards your husband started to boil. Your mind was in haze, you barely heard the rest but all you could think of was how to avoid the divorce.

The divorce will be the end of you. Sure, you would love to divorce Sunoo and save yourself a lifetime of loneliness, but you’re at your peak. Your company’s reputation has become stable, and everything’s going well. There were future plans and the divorce will ruin everything. Cutting ties with the Kim family will paint you badly and it’ll greatly affect the company too.

Of course Sunoo doesn’t know that. He’d never understand that because everything was given to him ever since he was born. He was born wealthy and privileged. While your family were new money. You were competing with other rising companies, and the marriage secured your company’s stability. 

Everything was purely out of business. Since you were in-charge of the company, it was your responsibility too, that’s why you accepted the marriage proposal from the Kim family. You know that Sunoo was strongly against it but in desperate measures, you agreed even if it meant that you’d spend the rest of your life tied to a heartless man.

Now, he has plans of divorcing you, which would ruin you forever. Hence, you devised a plan — run away from Kim Sunoo, leave your company to the safe hands of your twin brother, and while hiding, find a way to keep your company alive that if ever, the time Sunoo forced you to sign the divorce papers, you could walk away without any worry at all.

That’s how you ended up in Seokdo. A small isle that’s a five hour boat ride from Jeju. The population was so small that there were only approximately a hundred houses on the isle.

It didn’t take you long to adjust. Within a week, you’ve become accustomed to the place. The people were welcoming and friendly. They didn't know you that well, but they treat you as if you’re just a city girl who just wants to escape the city, and you let it remain that way.

They don’t know you’re married. They don’t know your whole reason for ending up in Seokdo. You spent your days helping the folks in their harvests and livelihood, babysit their kids, and sometimes, you would join them in their small get-togethers.

It was fun. You’ve become a local at some point. Day by day, you no longer yearn for Seoul and despite living alone, homesickness didn’t occur to you because as you stare at the serene view of the village by your bedroom’s window, you are convinced that you should put yourself first. 

You felt like you belonged here. You don’t want to go back to Seoul, despite Jake’s lectures for you to return. You convinced him that you’ll return soon, but you don’t even have a clear answer. You’re still scared, you don’t know how to face everything — especially Sunoo. You know that Sunoo’s been looking for you. He had been tormenting your twin brother about your whereabouts after all.

But now, you’re at a dead end. Your husband finally found you and has every plan of dragging you back to Seoul. You don’t have any concrete plans yet but all you need to do is to find a way for him to return without you, and right now, the least thing you could do is for him to return safe and healthy.

Your feet moved, opening your cabinet to grab one of the folded towels and spare clothes that Jake leaves whenever he visits. You left your room and noticed that Sunoo hasn’t moved from his place.

He really has plans of freezing to death. You rolled your eyes before walking towards him.

“Here,” you said as you shoved everything to him. “Bathroom’s the first door near the kitchen area. There’s hot water there, just turn the knob to the left and wait for a few minutes for it to come out.”

“There’s hot water here?” Sunoo asked, appalled.

“Rain frequent this place, so yes, the folks need hot water — and heater. So please, take a fucking bath before you get yourself sick.” you explained.

“What about you?”

“That’s none of your concern anymore,” you answered harshly and he didn’t push furthermore. Your husband only gave you a stare before he went towards the bathroom. As the door shut, you were able to breathe again. It made you wonder, how you’ll survive the remaining hours with him.

You just hope that by tomorrow, he'll be gone from your sight. 

-

An upcoming storm will land on Seokdo in the upcoming days.

The waves were huge and angry. Traveling and fishing weren’t advisable too. Everyone was informed to prepare for the upcoming surge and was advised to stay at home instead.

“Kill me now,” you muttered under your breath as you walked back home. The wind was howling and the sky’s gray. You could feel that chaos of the upcoming storm and you found it funny since it totally suited your situation right now. 

Your husband’s stuck with you. Great. You wondered what you even did in your past life to end up in this situation.

As you entered your house, you found Sunoo standing by the corner with the phone near his ear. You noticed the sense of relief washing on his face as you made eye contact with him. He placed down the phone and walked towards you.

“You’re here, I almost called the police,” he said and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re funny when you act concerned for my well-being,” you commented before placing your umbrella on the rack.

“Am I not allowed to?” he asked.

“It doesn’t suit you,” you pointed out. “Anyways, bad news is, you’re stuck here. Storm’s coming and travels are cancelled. If you want a decent stay, Mrs. Lee has a transient house. It’s a bit cozier and bigger, you could stay there until you leave.”

Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “Why would I stay in Mrs. Lee’s house instead of here?”

“Because I don’t want you here Sunoo, simple as that.” you said without any hesitations.

“And you think that saying that would simply make me leave you and stay there,” from there, a sly smirk formed on his lips. “You’ve tormented me for seven months, I think it's best that I’d return that favor.”

“Seven months isn’t enough for the three years I spent living in the cold, lonely penthouse with you.”

“That’s why you ran away? Because you’re tired of our marriage?” he concluded.

“It’s not about our marriage Sunoo. I have long accepted the fact that our marriage was purely business only. I just want a change of environment,” you reasoned out but Sunoo wasn’t convinced.

“And you’d expect me to believe that?”

“I am not expecting you to do anything Sunoo, you shouldn’t have gone looking for me in the first place —”

“Do I have to repeat myself to you? You’re my responsibility y/n. We may be married due to business alliance but you are my wife regardless,” he said sharply. “I know you. You’re not just going to run away out of impulse. Now tell me why did you leave?”

The tension thickened as both of you fell under a staring contest. His eyes were cold and seemingly waiting for you to give in while you were on the edge of it. You wanted to confront him right there. Open up the fact that you had overheard his conversation with Mr. Park.

But the storms’ surging right now. Winds were slamming against the wooden windows as rain poured harder than yesterday. Everything’s overwhelmingly scary that you don’t want to add another chaos that’s brewing at the moment, especially when you're stuck in this small house with your distant husband.

“It doesn’t matter Sunoo, you’d never understand it anyway,” you told him before heaving out a sigh.

“So you’ll just remain stubborn?” he scoffed. 

“I am not being stubborn Sunoo, I am doing what’s best for me.”

“By being selfish.”

“I’ve done a lot of sacrifices, Sunoo. Ever since I was born, everything I did was for my family and our business. So it’s fair that I am choosing myself this time.” you explained. “And if you’re going to stay here just to ruin my peace, I’ll be the one who’ll leave this place instead.”

“Don’t go,” he said immediately and you halted. “Just — fine. I am not going to ask anymore. Just let me stay here and I’m just going to let the storm pass by.”

“And then you’ll go back alone, right?” you asked.

“I’ll think about it,” Sunoo insisted and you were defeated.

“Fine, I’m going to make us breakfast,” you said as you went towards the kitchen area.

“Can I help?” he asked as he followed you.

“Do you even know how to?”

Sunoo became quiet, making you turn around to give him a glare. “Just stay in the living room, there’s a disc player with old cds there and books, keep yourself entertained.”

Like a kicked puppy, Sunoo returned to the living room and sat on the heated floor. He looked around the interior. The house was quite small. Only fitted for one to two people. The living room was a bit small but Sunoo noticed the subtle decorations like the potted plant and figurines. You sure made the house feel like yours after months of living there.

Sunoo then noticed the small pile of books on the corner table, shuffling towards it, he picked it one by one and noticed that they were books of foreign authors. Novels, poetry books, and self-help books. All marked and annotated that you seemed to have run out of books to read.

Sunoo wondered what you’ve been doing here in Seokdo for the past seven months. Clearly, you’ve changed. A lot. You seemed more independent and free than you used to. He doesn’t know if it should concern him but a small part of him was glad nonetheless, that you were alive and breathing even though you’re a thousand miles away from Seoul.

He decided to kill time by picking up one of the books to read, but his mind was distracted by the heavenly smell coming from the kitchen. 

His curiosity beat him into it. Standing up, he abandoned the book and went to the kitchen where you busied yourself cooking breakfast.

Oblivious to your husband’s watching eyes, you hummed quietly as you placed the remaining ingredients needed for the soup. Stirring it lightly before taking a few sips from the ladle. 

“Didn’t know you could cook —”

“God! Sunoo, don’t scare me like that!” you shouted, but your husband only smirked at you as he stood beside you to glance at the pot.

“Looks good, did you learn how to cook while you’re here?” he asked, not minding how close he was as his stare remained at the pot.

“No, I always loved to cook, ever since I was kid,” you don’t know why those words slipped out of your mouth or why you’re having a conversation with your husband. You felt a weird thumping feeling in your heart again, but you tried to ignore it by stirring the soup one more time.

“Really? Why don’t you cook back home?” he asked, tone filled with amusement. 

“We have a chef Sunoo,” you pointed out. “Plus, I’m busy with the company, I don't have time to cook.” 

Sunoo didn’t say a word. You were glad that the conversation ended as the two of you only stood there in silence. Your husband watched as you did a last minute seasoning before turning the gas stove. 

Without saying a word, Sunoo helped you by placing rice on the bowl and setting down the table. You didn’t comment anymore as you placed the pot down, before sitting on the chair in front of Sunoo. The atmosphere’s awkward as you cleared your throat before gesturing to him to eat.

“Thank you for the meal,” Sunoo said, before scooping a ladle-full of soup. 

You poured your portion and as you started eating, there’s nothing but mere silence. Only thunder and the heavy rain slapping against the window, mixed on the spoon and chopsticks drumming against the bowl. 

You felt the atmosphere suffocatingly awkward. This was the first time you and Sunoo ate a meal together and alone. Your schedules usually clashed so you always had your meals alone. Not even breakfast, nor lunch or dinner. The only days you two are on the dining table together were during family dinners, faking smiles, and acting like your marriage is doing fine but deep inside there’s a void that’s slowly damaging your heart. 

“So,” Sunoo broke the silence, making you glance at him. “Why did you choose to go here? You could’ve just, I don’t know, go to another country and disappear.”

Sunoo has always been a cold guy. Always wearing a blank expression and rarely smiling. Not even during your wedding did he flash a smile at you. He acted more like your business partner rather than a spouse. That's why it’s a surprise that he opened a conversation suddenly.

“I have no plans of disappearing at all,” you answered with honesty. “I just want an escape.”

“And you chose here where civilization seemed to have not touched yet,” he commented.

“Are you here to mock my choices Sunoo? Might as well keep your mouth shut by finishing your food,” you spat back, earning a teasing chuckle from your husband.

“You’re fun to tease, why didn’t I do it earlier?” he questioned and you rolled your eyes.

“Because we act like we don’t exist to each other,” you pointed out before you shoved a spoonful of rice in your mouth.

“I started to wonder about that part too,” Sunoo hummed. “Why did we act like strangers rather than just make the marriage work.”

That’s when you stopped. You stared at Sunoo whose eyes were still on you. A thought crossed your mind. The only thing that became a barrier to the two of you.

“You made it clear that you didn’t like the idea of marrying me.” you stated.

“I didn’t say it,” he denied.

“Your face says everything Sunoo,” you sighed. “I know what you’re thinking, we were just leeching your company. That’s very visible in your face when we first met.”

“Then you must have misjudged me.” Sunoo rebutted and your forehead creased.

“If that’s the case, why didn’t you try?”

“Well, why didn’t you? It takes two to tango.”

“You think I could just walk up to you and tell you that I want to make this marriage work? I am scared of you Sunoo,” you confessed and your husband’s face distorted into a confused one.

“Scared?”

“I am very much afraid of you,” you told him, voice almost breaking.  “And I don’t know your next move or what you’ll do. That’s why I left.”

With that, you stood up from your seat and left, leaving Sunoo surprised and confused by your sudden confession. It wasn’t new to him that you had your walls high around him but to be scared of him? That’s new.

He looked at his half-empty bowl and then glanced at yours, still a bit full. It guilts him that he had to ruin a supposed peaceful breakfast but at the same time, all he could think of was; what did he do to make you leave?

-

The storm wasn’t pleasant. 

It hurled its fury the next day. It was dark, cold, and all you could hear was how the wind howled against your windows. It felt like any minute now, it’ll tear off your roof. It jolted you awake at six am, with your heartbeat racing in nervousness.

You looked to your left to see your husband was still asleep. Deep in his own slumber like a baby. For a minute you ponder, thinking about yesterday’s argument that brewed tension between you and Sunoo.

You two were trapped in your own storm. Yesterday was suffocating. You two ate together in silence. Watch each other move and walk around in eggshells — and yet, no one dared to approach one another. Afraid that something might snap and flood the house with anger and frustrations.

Sunoo didn’t try to ruin your peace again. Thankfully. He waited, patiently, which never occurs to you because Kim Sunoo has always been an impatient man. He decides immediately. Always logically, always rational, and he never made any mistakes.

Well, perhaps coming here was a mistake for him because now, he’s trapped with you due to the storm and every schedule he had for the week was postponed. You noticed his irritated expression when he made calls with his secretary. You didn’t ask further, scared that he might snap on you instead.

There’s uncertainty on when he will go home, but at the moment, you’re trying your best to be a good host for him in hopes that it might melt something in his cold heart, and reconsider all his plans regarding your marriage — although that’s far from possible, it’s not bad to hope too.

Unable to sleep again, you stood up from your makeshift bed and left the room. Everything’s still dark and it seems like there won’t be any sun today. You switched the lights on and proceeded to your kitchen to make breakfast.

Deciding on a warm mandu soup, you opened your fridge and pantry to check your stocks only to see that you’re missing some important ingredients.

You glanced at your window, wondering if it’s still safe to go outside. Harsh winds were only present and if you made your errands quick, you’d be able to return in no time before it started raining. So you grabbed your windbreaker jacket, wallet, and an umbrella, and left your house quietly.

Mrs. Kim’s grocery mart — the only grocery mart in Seokdo was already open and god bless her sweet heart because it turns out she has made fresh batches of her sticky rice and mandu. You bought two servings for you and Sunoo along with some other stock that could last the storm.

“Wonbin told me that you have a visitor, a handsome one who arrived last Wednesday,” the old lady said while you placed your items inside the black plastic bag.

“Ah, yes, I do,” you told her with a casual tone.

“Was it Jaeyun? You should’ve told me, I have some candies here for him,” she was about to go to the back room to grab some sour snacks when you stopped her immediately.

“No, just a friend,” you answered but Mrs. Kim wasn’t convinced.

“A friend? He doesn’t look friendly, Wonbin told me,” she commented.

“That kid, he’s very judgemental of people,” you laughed before grabbing your stuff. “Thank you for the mandu Mrs. Kim, I’ll be going now.”

“You should pass by Mr. Han’s stall, he managed to catch some fish today, maybe he could spare you some,” the old lady advised and you only nodded to her words.

Mr. Han’s stall was a bit farther from your home, but since rain wasn’t pouring anytime. You decided to change your route and see if he had some available fish for you. 

“Here, here, this one’s fresh, good for stew or maybe sashimi, good for you and your visitor,” the old man said with a smile.

You laughed at his words, “it seems like everyone knows that I have a visitor.”

“Well, it’s rare for city people to visit here, we just knew immediately, just like the first time you arrived here,” he said while gently cleaning the fish for you. “Who is he anyway?”

“A friend,” you said shortly.

“Oh a friend,” the man chuckled. “I guessed he misses you a lot, that's why he visited you.”

“Maybe he does,” you replied shortly, your smile turning small and bitter. It felt bitter on your part and yet, you remained quiet as you waited for the fish to be cleaned and be given to you.

As you walked your way back home, you hummed mindlessly as you kicked the stray rocks on the pavement. 

Miss me? The world must be ending. You thought as you kicked the rock a bit too harsh. You didn’t care about Mr. Han’s words but in some ways, your mind would always go back to the same question; why is your husband here?

You wanted to think about it deeply. It wasn’t helpful to ponder about it when the said topic is just there in house. That’s why you changed your route just to walk a little longer. You didn’t care that the weather wasn’t one with your plans because in just a glimpse — rain showers arrived. Huge, noisy, droplets poured from the sky and you managed to get wet before you opened your umbrella.

You turned to your left, lengthening your route back home but you didn’t care about the harsh downpours because your mind was still thinking about Sunoo. You tried so hard to come up with a good explanation on why he’s here but everything doesn’t make sense at all. You know him, he wouldn’t just make a detour on his peaceful, usual routine just to travel here and pick you up. Who are you even in his life?

It didn’t sink into you that you’ve finally reached your home. That’s when you noticed that the gate’s opened and it left you confused, thinking that maybe the winds were too harsh that it opened the gates. 

It didn’t sink into you that maybe,  just maybe, your husband went out to look for you, not until a strong hand grabbed your arm and as you turned around you came face to face with your husband’s angry expression. Your eyes widened at the sight of him.

“What the hell Sunoo, where were you!?” you shouted, seeing him still in his sleeping clothes drenched in the rain.

“Where were you!?” he asked you back, tone angry. “You were gone when I woke up, I was afraid —”

“That I’d run away? Where do you think I will go Sunoo?” you taunted.

“You could’ve at least told me that you’re going out, there’s a storm! Who in the right mind will go out in the middle of the storm?” he pointed.

“Ask yourself, who’s drenched right now?”

“I panicked y/n, I was scared that something might happen to you.” he reasoned out and that shut you up.

You stared at him for a second, appalled as a scoff of disbelief left your lips. “Scared?”

“I was worried, okay!? Am I not allowed to?” he said and you couldn’t believe what you just heard.

You were stunned. Words didn’t come out of your mouth until a minute passed. “You were…worried?”

“Yes, now, can we stop this and just go inside? We might get sick if we stay here for too long,” Sunoo didn’t even let you say another word when he pulled you back inside your house.

Hearing the door shut close. You were frozen from your place as Sunoo stripped off his wet shirt. He was definitely drenched from head to toe, completely dripping on the floor while you were just a bit thanks to your umbrella and jacket.

“I didn’t think you’d be capable of doing that,” you break the silence, making Sunoo glanced at you with a deadpan expression.

“What?”

“Worry about me,” you told him.

“What kind of husband am I if I don’t worry about my wife who went outside in the middle of the storm?” Sunoo reasoned out. “You should be careful next time, if not, just tell me so I don’t have to worry.”

“Well, why worry now? You never worried about me back then,” you asked.

“I always worry about you,” he confessed and you weren’t convinced, not when his words remained cold and his expression never softened as he looked at you.

“You don’t show it.” you pointed out.

“I just don’t show it,” he clarified.

The thought made you scoff, “you’re unbelievable, aren’t you? How could I be convinced that you’re not lying?”

“Believe what you want then,” he rebutted. 

You didn’t answer him anymore. Weirded out by the contrast of his words and actions, you just passed by him and made your way towards the kitchen. Placing down the plastic bag loudly as you focused on making breakfast. 

The last thing you heard was the bathroom door opening and closing, and that made your heart heavier than before. 

-

That same night, the storm was still surging outside along with the tension inside your house.

No one brought up the conversation again. You two remained quiet, walking on eggshells, as the coldness could be felt both from you two and the weather.

You were still angry. Your husband could see it. It’s not hard when you have that irritated look on your face that makes Sunoo look at you every minute, and yet — you didn’t even spare a single glance at him.

Sunoo doesn’t get your stubbornness. He was irritated by the fact that you don’t want to go home. He wonders why you had the sudden change in your heart when you have always been a quiet wife for him. You never crossed the line after all.

He was used to you being a ghost, his shadow, or his trophy wife who stood by his side. You would always smile and talk with much demureness and softness, but right now, you’re far different from it. All he could see was anger and pure rage in your eyes. He never thought that you’d raise your tone or even talk back to him. But maybe, Sunoo concluded that he’s wrong, and that’s because despite being married for three years, he never really knows you that deeply.

Or perhaps, he didn’t bother getting to know you at all. Sunoo wasn’t oblivious about the way he treated you. He knew from the start, the marriage was purely business only. His parents themselves told him, it’s up to him how he’ll make the marriage work. 

So he did, in his way — and seeing how the events turned, he seemed that his ways were a failure.

You’re probably tired of your life, that’s why you left. But one logic Sunoo couldn’t understand was why? That wasn’t your personality at all. Despite the loveless marriage, you were persistent, not to him but to your company. He knew that you care for it and your family, and running away was the last thing you’d do. You’re not going to drop all of your responsibilities like a hot potato.

There’s definitely a bigger reason why you left all of the sudden. Despite that, Sunoo couldn’t ask you that. He doesn’t want to confront you again, especially since he had arrived all you two did was argue. It gets too repetitive too. 

The only thing he wanted was for the storm to pass by and hopefully, it’ll be safe now to travel and return to Seoul. He had hoped that the storm would be just a day or two worth because right now, it has become too dangerous even though he’s under a roof.

The man found himself by your kitchen. Mug on his left while the thermos was on his other side. He couldn’t sleep. The weather wasn’t pleasant at all. It was too noisy for him and it left him agitated. Sunoo convinced himself that that’s the reason why he’s sleepless, and not because of something else.

“You’re still awake?” a voice surprised him all of the sudden. Turning around, Sunoo sees you standing by the doorway.

“Can’t sleep,” he answered simply as the thunder roared against the downpour. “The storm’s too noisy for me to sleep in.”

“Oh. Okay,” you acknowledged before your feet moved. Sunoo watched as you went to the fridge to grab yourself some water. He then glanced at the wall clock. It was past two am and it seemed like the storm’s not going to dissolve any moment.

“Can’t sleep either?” Sunoo asked. You nodded as an answer before placing down the glass on the sink, and instead of returning to your room, you leaned against the counter which confused your husband.

“What are you doing?” you asked as you eyed the mug Sunoo was holding.

“Making tea? From whatever I could find here,” he said with confusion. 

“Here,” you opened your fridge to grab the peach extract your neighbor gave you. Place it on the kitchen counter before going to the second drawer below where your tea bags were placed. 

“Peppermint,” Sunoo muttered as he read the label.

“Calms my mind,” you said with feigned nonchalance as you remained in your place, a close distance to your husband.

“Hopefully this works for me,” Sunoo commented and the two of you fell into deep silence. You watched as Sunoo made tea for himself, careful and meticulous just like how he does with his coffee. 

“Do you want some?” he asked within a minute and you stared.

“You’d make me?” you asked, although jokingly, your husband seemed to have not noticed the tone in your voice.

“If you want me to.” Sunoo answered casually.

On most days you would’ve rejected Sunoo’s offer. You should’ve rejected his offer but you feel like tea would’ve been a good drink for your sleepless self. That’s why nodded and he grabbed another mug for you, making the same tea for you. Not a minute passed and he handed the mug to you which you accepted with a short smile.

“It’s sweet,” you commented as you took a sip.

“I like my tea sweet,” Sunoo muttered.

You nodded, “I know, you always have a sweet tooth.”

“How come?”

“I couldn’t ignore the sweet pastries and chocolates in our fridge Sunoo,” you pointed out. “You’re the only one who probably loves to buy those kinds of things.”

He looked at you. “Do you not like sweets?”

“I’m more of a sour girl.” you hummed.

“Ah, no wonder we never ran out of sour patches and sour belts in our pantry,” he commented and that made you chuckle.

The conversation ended in an abrupt silence and yet, you felt no awkward beat to it. The rain served as your background noise while minute-by-minute, you took a sip on the tea your husband made when suddenly, the wind howled again, slamming against the window making you flinch.

“You okay?” Sunoo asked, noticing your scared expression.