#sunghoon au

A merger disguised as matrimony.

You smiled the entire night like the well-bred heiress you were. Sunghoon smiled too—polite, camera-ready, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. He barely touched you. A hand at the small of your back for photos, a chaste kiss on the cheek when the crowd cheered. That was it.

And now, three weeks later, you’re standing in the middle of his—your—penthouse at the top of Seoul’s most exclusive tower, wearing nothing but an oversized silk slip and fuzzy slippers, trying to figure out how to use the espresso machine that probably cost more than your first car.

Sunghoon is already gone. Again.

He leaves before sunrise most days, comes back after midnight. The only evidence he exists is the faint trace of his cologne in the marble hallway and the occasional sticky note on the fridge that says things like Dinner is in the warmer or Meeting ran late. Don’t wait up. in his neat, elegant handwriting.

You’re not stupid. You know what this is. An arrangement. Two families shaking hands over your heads while the lawyers drew up the contracts. You’re the pretty, fertile bridge between empires. He’s the cold, untouchable heir who never wanted a wife in the first place.

But God, you’re trying.

You’ve always been the good girl. The one who baked cookies for the staff on holidays, who graduated top of her class in business but never raised her voice. The one whose body developed early and never quite listened to the rules of “elegant restraint.” Wide hips that sway when you walk, a plush ass that fills out every pencil skirt, full breasts that strain against even the most modest necklines. You’ve spent your whole life trying to dress it down—high necklines, loose fits, dark colors. Still, people stared.

Sunghoon? He hasn’t stared once.

Not until tonight.

It’s past 11 p.m. when you hear the elevator ding.

You’re in the kitchen, barefoot, wearing one of his white dress shirts as an apron because you spilled flour on your slip while attempting to make his favorite japchae from the recipe his mother sent you. The shirt hits mid-thigh, sleeves rolled up, top three buttons undone because it’s hot from the stove. Your hair is piled on top of your head with a claw clip, a few strands sticking to your neck from the steam.

You don’t hear him come in at first. You’re humming softly, hips moving to the quiet lo-fi playlist playing from the speaker, bending over to check the oven when—

“Smells good.”

His voice is low, rough from the long day. You straighten up so fast you almost hit your head on the range hood.

Sunghoon stands at the edge of the open kitchen, tie loosened, jacket slung over one arm, the top buttons of his black shirt undone. His sharp eyes—those glacier eyes everyone calls “intimidating”—flick over you once. Slow. Like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You tug at the hem of his shirt self-consciously. It barely covers anything. “I—I thought you’d be late again. Made dinner. Or… late-night dinner. Whatever.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just sets his jacket on the island stool and walks closer. You can smell the city on him—cold night air, expensive leather, the faint trace of whiskey from whatever business dinner he just left.

His gaze drops.

Not to your face. To the way the shirt rides up when you shift your weight, exposing the soft curve where your thighs meet your ass. The way the fabric stretches across your chest, the faint outline of your nipples because you’re not wearing a bra and the kitchen is warm.

You see the exact moment something in his brain short-circuits.

His jaw flexes. Once. Twice.

“Sunghoon?” you ask softly, voice the same sweet, slightly breathy tone you always use when you’re nervous. Innocent. Like you have no idea what you look like right now. Because you don’t. You never have.

He clears his throat. “You didn’t have to cook.”

“I wanted to.” You smile, small and hopeful, and turn to grab a plate. The motion makes the shirt ride higher. He sees the full, plush swell of your ass, the way the silk clings to the dip of your waist, the generous curve of your hips.

Breeding material.

The thought slams into him so hard he actually grips the edge of the counter.

You’re his wife. On paper. Untouched. Sheltered. The kind of girl who blushes when someone says “fuck” in a movie. And yet your body was built for exactly what his family wanted from this marriage: soft, fertile, made to carry heirs and look devastating while doing it.

He hates how much that turns him on.

You set the plate in front of him, unaware. “Eat before it gets cold, okay? I’ll clean up—”

“Sit.”

It’s not a request. His voice is low, almost hoarse.

You blink those big, doe eyes at him. “Huh?”

“Sit down, Y/N.”

You obey instantly, sliding onto the stool across from him like the good little wife you’re trying so hard to be. The shirt rides up your thighs. He stares. Doesn’t even pretend not to.

The silence stretches.

You fidget. “Is… is something wrong? Did I do it wrong?”

Sunghoon exhales through his nose. He looks like he’s fighting a war in his head. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

“Oh.” Your cheeks go pink. “I’m sorry, I spilled flour on mine and I didn’t want to wake the maid and—”

“Stop.” He cuts you off. His eyes are darker now. “Stop apologizing for existing in my house.”

Your lips part. Innocent confusion written all over your pretty face. “But it’s your shirt…”

He stands up slowly, walks around the island until he’s right in front of you. Towering. You have to tilt your head back to look at him. He smells like sin and restraint.

“You have any idea what you look like right now?” he murmurs.

You shake your head, genuinely lost.

Sunghoon’s hand lifts. His knuckles brush the side of your thigh where the shirt ends, barely there. You shiver.

“Plush little ass in my shirt,” he says, voice dropping an octave. “Tits spilling out the top. Hips like they were made to be grabbed. And you’re just… humming and cooking like a fucking 1950s housewife.”

Your breath hitches. No one has ever spoken to you like this.

“I—I can change—”

“Don’t.” His fingers tighten on your thigh. “Don’t you dare.”

He’s hard. You can see the bulge straining against his slacks, and the realization makes your stomach flip. You’re a virgin. You’ve never even kissed anyone properly before the wedding kiss that lasted half a second. But your body knows what it wants. It’s been aching for weeks every time he walked past you in the hallway smelling like heaven and distance.

He hauls you up onto the counter in one smooth motion, your ass landing on the cool marble with a soft gasp. The shirt bunches around your waist. He steps between your spread thighs like he belongs there.

His mouth crashes into yours—nothing chaste about it this time.Hungry. Possessive. His tongue slides against yours and you whimper into the kiss, hands fisting his shirt. He tastes like whiskey and want. One big hand slides up your thigh, cups the full cheek of your ass and squeezes hard enough to make you moan.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your lips. “This ass. Been driving me insane for weeks. Every time you bend over in those little shorts you wear to bed…”

He kisses down your neck, sucking marks into the skin like he’s claiming territory. His other hand palms your breast through the shirt, thumb circling your nipple until it’s stiff and aching.

“You’re built like a wet dream,” he mutters, almost angry. “Wide hips perfect for carrying my kids. Tits so full they’d leak when you’re pregnant. And you’re sweet. So fucking sweet it makes me want to ruin you.”

You’re panting, head spinning. “Sunghoon… I’ve never—”

“I know.” He pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are black with lust but there’s something soft underneath. “I know you’re a virgin, baby. That’s why I stayed away. But I can’t anymore. Not when you walk around looking like my personal breeding material in my own goddamn kitchen.”

He drops to his knees.

You squeak when he spreads your thighs wider, pushes the shirt up to your waist. No panties. You never wear them to bed. His breath ghosts over your bare pussy and you tremble.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, almost reverent. “Look at this little cunt. Never been touched and it’s already wet for me.”

He leans in and licks a slow, broad stripe up your folds. Your back arches off the counter with a broken moan. He does it again, firmer, tongue flicking your clit on every pass until you’re shaking.

“Sunghoon—oh god—”

He eats you like a man starved. No hesitation, no teasing. Just hungry, filthy licks and sucks that have you grinding against his face without shame. His hands grip your hips, holding you down as he devours you—lapping at your entrance, sucking your clit, groaning like you taste better than anything he’s ever had.

You come embarrassingly fast, thighs clamping around his head, crying out his name like a prayer. He doesn’t stop. He keeps going until you’re sobbing, oversensitive and twitching.

Only then does he stand up, lips shiny with you, and kisses you so you can taste yourself.

“First time I make my wife come and it’s on the kitchen counter,” he says with a dark little laugh. “We’re just getting started.”

He lifts you like you weigh nothing—your legs wrap around his waist instinctively—and carries you to the bedroom. The master suite you’ve been sleeping in alone for three weeks.

He lays you on the bed like you’re precious, then strips. Shirt. Belt. Pants. You watch, wide-eyed, as his cock springs free—thick, long, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking. You’ve never seen one in real life. It looks obscene. Perfect.

Sunghoon crawls over you, caging you in. “Still okay?” he asks, voice softer now. “We can stop. I’ll jerk off in the shower like I have been every night since the wedding.”

You shake your head, reaching up to cup his face. “I want this. I want you. Please… make me yours for real.”

He kisses you slow and deep, then reaches into the nightstand for lube and a condom. You stop his hand.

“I’m on the pill,” you whisper, cheeks burning. “For… for the marriage. They said it was better if i… .”you stutter trying to find a suitable word.

His eyes flash. The breeding kink he’s been trying to ignore roars back to life.

“No condom,” he growls. “Not tonight. Not ever if you let me. Want to feel you raw. Want to fill this pretty pussy until it leaks.”

You nod frantically.

He slicks himself up anyway, just enough, then notches the head of his cock at your entrance. He pushes in slow—inch by inch—watching your face the entire time. You’re so tight it makes his jaw clench.

“Relax, baby. Breathe. That’s it… good girl.”

It burns, but the stretch feels right. When he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, you both moan. He stays there, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he whispers. “So warm. So fucking tight. Like you were made for me.”

He starts moving—shallow thrusts at first, then deeper, harder. Every drag of his cock against your walls makes stars burst behind your eyes. He angles his hips and hits a spot that makes you cry out.

“Right there? Yeah? Gonna make you come on my cock like a good little wife.”

He fucks you harder. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the room. His hands are everywhere—squeezing your tits, pinching your nipples, gripping your ass to pull you onto him deeper. He leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing, while his cock pistons in and out.

You come again, clenching around him so hard he groans your name like a curse.

He doesn’t stop. He flips you over onto your stomach, pulls your hips up so your ass is in the air, and slides back in with one smooth thrust. The new angle makes you scream into the pillow.

“Look at this ass,” he pants, spanking one cheek lightly, then harder when you moan. “Bouncing so pretty for me. Gonna fuck you full every night. Keep you dripping with my cum so everyone knows who you belong to.”

You’re babbling now—yes, please, Sunghoon, more—lost in the pleasure. He reaches around and rubs your clit in tight circles.

“Come again. Want to feel you milk me.”

You do. Shaking, sobbing, pussy fluttering around his cock. He follows right after, burying himself to the hilt and coming with a guttural groan. You feel the hot rush of him inside you—thick, endless pulses that make your belly feel warm and full.

He collapses over you, careful not to crush you, and presses soft kisses to your shoulder blades.

After that night, everything changes.

Sunghoon still works long hours, but now he comes home early enough to eat the dinners you make. He eats you for dessert on the kitchen island at least twice a week. He fucks you in the shower, bent over the marble vanity while you watch yourselves in the mirror. He takes you on the balcony under the Seoul skyline, your silk robe hiked up around your waist while he growls filthy promises about knocking you up against the glass.

He’s still the same cold, elegant CEO in public. But at home he’s insatiable—hands always on your ass, mouth always on your neck, cock always ready to remind you who you belong to.

One night, after he’s fucked you slow and deep in the big bed, he lies behind you, spooned up close, hand splayed possessively over your lower belly.

“You know why I stayed away at first?” he murmurs into your hair.

You hum, sleepy and satisfied.

“Because the second I saw you at the altar. those hips, that ass, those tits—I knew I’d never be able to keep my hands off you. Knew I’d want to breed you the first chance I got. And you were looking at me with those big innocent eyes like you’d never had a dirty thought in your life.” He kisses the back of your neck. “Made me feel like a pervert for wanting my own wife so badly.”

You turn in his arms, smiling softly. “I’m not innocent anymore.”

His eyes darken with fresh heat. “No. You’re not.” He rolls you under him again, already hard. “But you’re still my sweet little wife. And I’m never letting you go.”

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in.

“Good,” you whisper against his lips. “Because I was made to be yours.”

And you were.

The merger thrived. The papers called it a love match. Only the two of you knew the truth: it started as an arrangement, but the moment Sunghoon saw you in his kitchen wearing nothing but his shirt and that body built for sin and softness, it became something else entirely.

It became real.

And he was never going to get enough.

©hoonalt

Exhibit B (extracted from age 10): He liked his toy figurines organized in a certain kind of way –– aligned on his shelf, standing upright, facing forward. Nothing else, no exceptions. 

One day, he found his limited edition Superman action figure fallen face flat on the shelf. 

His parents earthquake-proofed all of their furniture. 

…he later found out that his sister was secretly playing with his toys while he was at school.

Sunghoon didn’t come out of his room for three days after that.

Exhibit C (extracted from age 15): There were even instances in high school where he would get his grades appealed if he believed they were “marked incorrectly,” which, by the way, always got re-corrected in the end. Even if he really was wrong in the first place.

It was either his way or the highway.

In other words, Park Sunghoon was a complete perfectionist, and this fastidious behaviour followed him well into his adulthood. 

Somehow along the way, he managed to score himself a scholarship and landed himself a place in a prestigious university.

But even when he got there he was sensitive about the minor details. He was extremely particular about his class timetable, stuck to a tight-grit schedule, and even had certain criteria of who could be his friend and who couldn’t. 

And when it finally came down to choosing his university friends, he managed to pick people who were all in the same major, shared the same humour, had the same hobbies, and followed similar daily schedules as him –– but before you think of anything, no, they definitely weren’t as hypercritical as he was. 

Don’t get him wrong though, despite his meticulous and seemingly strict nature, he still found time to fool around and have fun whilst in school. 

If anything, Sunghoon considered himself as… quite the witty guy. 

He kept a mental list of things he likes. He likes watching funny cat memes on his feed, playing games on his computer during his free time, going clubbing with his friends every weekend, and he also really likes how the shawarma shop beside his place always had a buy-one-get-one deal on Thursdays.

He also had a list of things he hates. He hates when he has to share his food, or anything, really; he hates when people chew with their mouths open, he hates when freshmen walk too slowly on campus, he hates when his roommates “forget” to clean their dirty dishes –– honestly, the list could go on and on.

But, for the past couple of months, what he hated most was his best friend, Sim Jake.

Sunghoon didn’t always hate him though. If he hated him from the beginning, one, he wouldn’t have befriended him in the first place, and two, he wouldn’t have asked him to be one of his roommates –– which, this entire living situation soon became an issue with him. An extreme issue, he would call it, even.

So, what was the catalyst to the start of Sunghoon’s immense hatred towards Jake, you may ask? 

Well, it was you. 

At this point, Sunghoon’s heard it all. With people constantly calling him “nit-picky” and “extremely demanding,” always complaining that he has these crazy high standards for everything and that there’s nothing — better yet, no one — he ever liked from the get-go.

How exhausting does that sound?

Though he can admit, they’re all right about him being nit-picky, extremely demanding, and right about him having those “crazy high” standards. But, they were a bit wrong about that last part.

Park Sunghoon wasn’t sure about a lot of things, but he knew he was sure he liked you.

He guessed he always, at least, subconsciously knew he liked you from the second the two of you met during freshmen orientation –– he hadn’t realized it back then, but you kind of just checked off all the boxes in his mind.

With his personality though, he had never admitted it out-loud –– even if it was pain-stakingly obvious to all of his close friends.

It honestly really was just a little crush to him at first. He started looking for your face around campus, teasing you whenever you were around, occasionally texting each other. You know, doing the usual shit slightly delusional people always do to cope with their minor infatuations who don’t like them back.

Surprisingly over time, the two of you eventually became a lot closer and hung out with each other more.

…and also became a little more flirtatious with each other (at least that’s what Sunghoon thinks, but he’s not too sure). 

It got to the point where Sunghoon’s friends could tell whether he was in a good mood or not depending on whether he got a text from you that day.

You and Sunghoon were good, he thought things were going well –– he’s got game… right? 

Until one day, Sunghoon’s fairytale-princess-dream of living a life with the two of you together all came crashing down. 

To be honest, you’d never met Sunghoon’s so-called “best friends” the past two years you had been friends. You started to wonder whether they were real or if Sunghoon was just faking it and actually has no friends.

Eventually, you came to meet them –– Heeseung, Jay, Sunoo, Jungwon, Riki, and Jake.

Sunghoon really hated that. He never even wanted to introduce you to his friends, you guys just bumped into each other by accident.

In his mind, he kind of just wanted to keep you as his little secret. After all, he met you first, befriended you first, and liked you first. And again, Sunghoon really hated sharing.

And, it sounds a teensy bit toxic but he’d always been competitive to the bone, maybe a little too much. So when he saw you started getting a lot closer to Jake than you were with him, it honestly felt like a two-faced betrayal. But he couldn’t say anything –– his ego and stubbornness wouldn’t let him.

Sunghoon kind of just watched and let it happen, so he honestly shouldn’t even be that mad. At first, he tried to bury the thought of you and Jake being “best friends” in the back of his head. But it didn’t help when you started coming over to his shared apartment to hang out with stupid, freaking Jake.

He always wondered why you chose Jake and not him.

All of Sunghoon’s friends had just adjusted from the fact that they thought he liked you... to Jake being the one pursuing you instead. 

You and Sunghoon never “fell out,” however, the friendship felt a bit more distant. But what was Sunghoon supposed to do about it? Beg you to become best friends with him instead? Whenever he thought this way, he’d always feel like he reverted back into a kid.

When you’d come over, you would say “hi,” and engage in like, three-minute small talk with Sunghoon, and then go into Jake’s stinkin’ room and giggle with him and probably have so much fun with whatever the fuck Jake is doing. 

Sunghoon wouldn’t really know though, he couldn’t bring himself to ask what the two of you did when you left their apartment.

The most information he could get was when his other roommates would tease Jake about you. There was one particular time, however, where Sunghoon was royally pissed off over the two of you. According to him, this conversation was just so juvenile and hard-to-listen to this day. 

Sunghoon was in the kitchen fixing their coffee machine while silently eavesdropping on his roommates by the couch. Jay lightly nudged Jake’s shoulder, “So, you and y/n, what’s up with that?”

The second Sunghoon heard Jay drop the first vowel of your name, his ears immediately perked up.

Jake chuckles, staying focused on the game in front of him, “Nah man, chill. It’s nothing like that.”

Liar.

Heeseung tsks, tossing his controller down after losing a match against Jake, “If it was just ‘nothing’ then you wouldn’t be texting her all day and hanging out with her more than your own roommmates.”

Right? Heeseung’s so right. If it really was just “nothing” then he wouldn’t have caught Jake kicking his feet up and down while on the phone with you.

“Guys, leave it, we’re just best friends.” Jake laughs.

Yeah right, that’s such bullshit cause Sunghoon had found out you two started dating, like, exactly a month later.

That was essentially the beginning of his own hell, agony, and his pure hatred towards Jake.

Sunghoon would see you waltz into his –– their, sorry –– apartment almost every day with a huge smile plastered on your face like shit was all sweet and rainbows and butterflies when he was suffering every waking minute.

Daily he’d see your annoyingly gorgeous face, hear your stupidly adorable laughter through the walls, and watch you and Jake be all lovey-dovey right in front of him. Sunghoon didn’t even know he could like a person to this extent, you just made him like this.

It actually made him sick in the stomach. That should’ve been him.

One morning, he genuinely contemplated jumping off of their balcony when you stepped outside of Jake’s room wearing his clothes. He wanted to shout, he wanted to remind you that you were his friend first, he wanted to ask you, “what do you see in him that you don’t see in me?”

But all he managed to spit out was, “Morning, you want coffee?” while gripping onto his penguin-shaped coffee mug so tight that it was on the brink of shattering into pieces.

Now, Sunghoon knew it was wrong, and that you’re now quite literally his best friend's girlfriend but what ever happened to “dibs?” He knew you way before than dumbass Jake did.

One night, Sunghoon couldn’t fall asleep. He had been tossing and turning for the past two hours trying not to lose his mind over the fact that you were sleeping over at their place, again.

He thought some tea might help soothe his worries and ease his anxiety a little bit, eventually bringing him to sleep, so he got up and made his way over to the kettle in the kitchen. He got his favourite mug out and had the peppermint tea bag sitting nicely inside when he heard a small pip-squeak coming from the rooms.

At first he couldn’t actually tell if that sound was coming from the rooms or if it was just the steam from the kettle, but then a pip-squeak turned into a muffled gasp –– a seemingly sexual sounding one, he believed.

Sunghoon couldn’t bear to stick around longer to figure out whether you and Jake were having sex. That was enough for him to abandon his cup of tea and trudge his way over to Sunoo, Jungwon, and Riki’s place in his house slippers and pajamas. 

He even bought ear-plugs at the convenience store on the way there.

Sunghoon honestly doesn’t really remember much after he bolted out of his apartment that night. But according to them, he got to their place and sat in the corner of their living room with his knees to his chest –– refusing to tell any of them what the matter was –– eventually falling asleep on the floor. 

Riki also did keep mentioning how Sunghoon started rocking back-and-forth while whispering to himself quietly, but everyone knows Riki has a thing for theatrics.

While yes, Sunghoon had thoughts about you that were most definitely against the bro-code, he never actually acted on them.

Like, yeah Sunghoon hated his best friend for stealing the love of his life, but that’s still literally his best friend –– whom he hates. It’s complicated, he can’t really explain it.

Over the course of a couple months, Sunghoon thinks he’s seen and heard it all, especially the arguments you and Jake would have. On those nights, he prayed he’d wake up to news that you guys finally broke up –– which never happened by the way.

Those arguments were usually petty and small, but a particular argument was unlike the rest. 

One day, you ran out of Jake’s room in tears. Sunghoon was on the couch watching the evening news with the volume turned up so high at the time, he couldn’t even hear you guys arguing anymore.

But this was just usual protocol whenever you and Jake would argue, it felt almost invasive so all of the guys agreed to blast the TV and drown out the yelling sound.

At first, Sunghoon didn’t notice you crying hysterically –– not until he looked up and saw your face.

Sunghoon’s body reacted by itself. Without even meaning to, he found himself chasing after you to make sure you were okay. You two were still friends regardless of the fact that you were in a relationship with Jake, so he thought this was totally justifiable.

When Sunghoon finally caught up to you, he grabbed your arm, “Hey,” he spoke softly, “I can’t let you leave until I know you’re okay. What’s wrong?”

You finally turn to look at him, and he sees you: mascara running down your rosy cheeks, eyes all puffy, your nose running a little. It wasn’t long till you shrugged Sunghoon’s hand off your arm.

“Stop acting stupid,” you spat, “you guys are best friends, I know you that you know already. Really, what are you even here for? To seem like some good-guy-hero? Like, what, you’re gonna go on a whole tangent about how Jake is a great guy, that this is just some miscommunication, how he’ll apologize or that, maybe even I should be the one to apologize––”

Maybe Sunghoon shouldn’t have said what he said next, because it just made things worse.

“Is that really what you think of me, y/n? Like I’m just Jake’s loyal fucking lapdog running after you so I can take his side? He’s my friend, yeah, but why would you ever think that lowly of me?”

At this point, you started to feel really bad for snapping on him when in reality, he was just trying to help.

Sunghoon speaks in a tiny voice, “I don’t even know what’s going on in your relationship. I don’t even ask about it because it hurts.”

Your face of dishevelment slowly turns into confusion as you keep listening to Sunghoon, “What are you talking about?”

Sunghoon knows he probably shouldn’t be talking about this right now, that he should just end the conversation there and maybe try to gaslight you into thinking that he actually said something else –– but it all slipped out.

He lets out a frustrated sigh accompanied with a quick eye-roll, almost like he can’t believe the words that he’s about to say, “I met you first. We were friends first. I liked you first. But I just let you slip away and now you’re his –– and I can’t do anything about it. I’ve been forced to just watch you with him. You don’t even know how bitter I get seeing you guys together. He knew I liked you first, and he took you away from me. You were supposed to be with me instead.” 

You have a boyfriend, this is your boyfriend’s best friend. This whole situation is fucked up. All you do is shake your head in disbelief, “What are you trying to say, what’s the whole point of this Sunghoon?”

A pause of silence passed by, and in those seconds of quietness, Sunghoon really tried hard to think, what is the whole point of him telling you this now? What did he think would even happen?

“I–I don’t know,” he stutters, “just– nothing. Just forget everything I said please, just forget about it. Let me get you an Uber home.”

The truth was, you understood what he meant completely and you couldn’t just simply forget about it.

But you had to pretend.

Just in time, you saw Jake jogging towards you two in your peripheral vision. It wasn’t long until Sunghoon noticed.

The second Jake came to you, Sunghoon took a step back and left.

You honestly forgot about your argument with Jake until he apologized and insisted he drove you home. The drive back to your place was silent. Your head was leaned against the car window with your hands between your thighs the entire ride.

Jake turned onto your street, eventually pulling up to the entrance of your apartment. The two of you sit there for a while, the only sound coming from his fingers lightly drumming on the console. Your gaze stays fixed on a tree outside, too embarrassed to break the ice first.

He moves his hand onto the steering wheel, “y/n, I’m really sorry.”

You turn your head slightly to look at him before pushing the car door open, “It’s fine, just don’t let it happen again.”

Jake watches you slam the car door shut, making your way inside and up the elevator before he drives away.

That night, you had a lot to ponder about –– not just because of the argument you and your boyfriend had, but also because of what his best friend had just confessed to you...

Fuck, why are you even thinking about Sunghoon again? Jake’s right here. Jake is your boyfriend… yeah.

⋆˚࿔

Mondays were always the worst for Sunghoon. At 8 a.m., he has Theory of Computation, then once that ends at 10, he has an hour to himself before he’s got three back-to-back classes till 4 p.m. On top of that, he also told Sunoo and Riki that he’d meet them at the library at 6:30 p.m. to get a headstart on their group project. 

Great, he thought, so now he’s able to schedule an hour-long nervous breakdown before he has to compose himself like a normal citizen and attend to his responsibilities again. 

Once he got home after his final lecture of the day, he sat on his desk chair (not his bed, he had his outside clothes on) and pulled out his phone from his backpocket.

“Google am I a bad person?”

Sunghoon’s staring at the searchbar waiting for the results to load on his phone, the floorboards creaking loudly because of how much he kept bouncing his legs out of anxiety. 

All he’s done the past 24 hours was replay the conversation he last had with you, and the more he kept thinking about it, the more he started to feel like he really fucked up this time. 

His first worry was you possibly telling Jake that he had just confessed his undying love for you –– but when he heard Jake say good morning the next day while making an omelette, he crossed that fear off the list.

'Cause like, what guy who's mad would make omelettes in the morning?

His second worry was that he might actually be a horrible person. Sunghoon always understood he was insufferable since birth, but never once has he thought he was a bad guy… until now.

Like, it’s a really fucked up situation right? He put you in a difficult position, and if Jake finds out then that’s goodbye to his best friend too –– oh god, what about his roommates? Will he have to find a new place to live next year?

A plethora of different worries began to plague his mind until he realized the search results had finally loaded on his phone. He saw countless people asking the same question on different forums, where he eventually found himself on r/AmItheAsshole, reading excerpts from literally Lucifer(s) themselves in attempts to make him feel better about his own situation.

At that moment Sunghoon came to the realization that, yeah there are definitely a lot of worse people in the world with way more questionable morals than him –– and that if he was considered a bad person, then the people of this Subreddit must think he’s made out of unicorns and sunshine.

Before he left his apartment again, he took a deep breath, tried to push his feelings down and go about his day.

When he finally arrived at the library, he found Jungwon and Riki at their usual spot. Jungwon spots him walking towards them first, prompting him to move his backpack on the seat beside him to the ground, “Hey, we saved you a spot.”

Sunghoon falls into the chair, “Thanks man.”

In front of Jungwon, Riki lays his head flat on the table, “Guys, can we rethink this. We have a month till this project is due. Isn’t doing this real early almost unnecessary?”

Jungwon continues typing on his keyboard, not once looking up, “It’s just in case, and there’s nothing wrong with starting early.”

Riki rolls his eyes and releases a big sigh before raising his head to look back up at his JavaScript for the nth time today.

Once Sunghoon had opened up his computer, Jungwon left no time to waste, “I forgot to ask, have you ever used a graphical interface for designing SQL queries before?"

“Yeah, have you?”

Riki looks up at the two of them like they’re speaking a completely different language, when in reality he’s supposed to be in the same major as them –– therefore he probably should know what Sunghoon and Jungwon are talking about.

“No,” Jungwon shakes his head, “But, that’ll aid us while building this thing.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Riki groans and shuts his laptop, “Sorry Won, but I’ve been busting my ass learning this code for the past three hours we’ve been here –– I haven’t even eaten anything yet!”

He pulls out his phone, face immediately lighting up green, “Fuck it, I’m ordering UberEats, y’all want something?”

Sunghoon declines, “Nah, I’m good I ate before I left.”

Inside his backpack, Jungwon pulls out a tupperware filled with fruit and a bag of half-eaten beef jerky, “It’s fine, I packed myself some food.”

“Dude, what the hell,” Riki exits from the app, “Why didn’t you tell me you had food, my stomach has been grumbling for a whole hour.”

“Yeah, I know, I heard.”

Riki snatches the bag of opened beef jerky as a form of opposition against Jungwon, stuffing a handful into his mouth.

“Wait,” pausing mid-chew to swallow his food, “Anton just texted me, apparently his frat’s hosting a houseparty, mixer-thingy –– whatever the fuck –– on Friday.”

Sunghoon holds back a laugh, “Hell nah, remember what happened when their frat threw a party last semester?”

Unlike Sunghoon, Jungwon has no shame and bursts out in laughter causing the rest of the people on the floor to hush him, “Yo, we gotta go, Jake was legendary that time.”

Riki’s face falters as if he were recalling a traumatic memory, “Man, I don’t think Jake’s gonna act out, he’s been a different guy ever since he got a girl. Kinda miss the old him.”

After hearing your name being brought up in the conversation, Sunghoon looks up from his computer, fully immersing himself in the topic –– yet, he can’t bring himself to speak.

“Don’t make assumptions that he’s boring yet, I don’t think this guy has gone out since then, the guy’s a beast when he’s fucked up. Ya never know. Maybe he’ll surprise us.” Jungwon chuckles.

“Do you still have that video of him from last year?”

“Bro, of course I do. Chill, let me find it on my camera roll.”

At this moment, all of Sunghoon’s thoughts began racing. 

He can’t help it but those feelings of resentment towards Jake are all coming back again. Maybe he really is a bad person after all, because the only thing he could say was, “I think we should go.”

This is the reason why Sunghoon thinks that he might actually be a horrible person –– because why would he want to see his best friend potentially fuck up?

From then on, Sunghoon decided that this was the last time he would be selfish ...he thinks.

⋆˚࿔

It was around 10 p.m. when Sunghoon had gotten home from the library. All of the lights in the apartment were turned off, which was kind of odd to him but he didn’t really pay much attention to it. He figures his roommates just went somewhere –– he honestly doesn’t care where. 

In fact, he liked it when he was the only one home. It gave him some peace and solace. He never liked to admit it, but sometimes being with other people is exhausting. 

Not that he doesn’t like being around his roommates, he does. It’s just a little daunting for him to be around people for extended periods of time. He really hates the way he thinks. He finds it a little embarrassing that he thinks it’s anxiety-inducing and overwhelming to be around other people sometimes.

He thinks his logic is flawed, and almost wishes he wasn’t like this. Look at Park Sunghoon, uptight, picky, critical, no-good-for-anyone –– yet he can’t stick around long if he’s surrounded by people or else he’ll freak out? 

Whatever, he doesn’t have time to host his own pity party when he’s got bigger fish to fry. 

In hopes of seeking relaxation after the day he’s had, he grabs a towel and heads toward the bathroom. Waiting for him was a nice, steamy-hot shower, preferably one that’s a little too hot that it makes his body physically produce steam.

What he expected to see when he walked into the bathroom was a fucking toilet, shower, and sink. But when he opened the bathroom door, he was greeted with a fucking toilet, shower, sink, and you who just happens to be brushing your teeth oh-so conveniently at the same time Sunghoon wants to shower.

Truthfully, you almost scared the shit out of Sunghoon when he saw your face, cause first of all, no one’s even supposed to be home right now (allegedly).

Your eyes widen when you come face-to-face with Sunghoon. This was the first time the two of you had seen each other since last night. He didn’t rehearse this meeting happening and now he’s internally freaking out.

Instead of the awkward encounter Sunghoon had anticipated, you spit out your toothpaste, finish brushing your teeth, and flash him a smile, “Hey, sorry I was just quickly brushing my teeth, you can use the bathroom now.”

A smile that almost convinced Sunghoon that maybe last night was all just a dream and didn’t actually happen in real life.

Straight-faced, he nods, clearing the doorway for you to step out. He watches you walk past his bedroom door and go into Jake’s room before he steps inside the bathroom. 

Under the showerhead, Sunghoon lets the water run down his head, staring down at the drain. He had numerous thoughts running through his mind, but what stuck out most was why you just acted like nothing had happened between them?

When he looks up to grab his shampoo, he sees all of your shower products in the corner with Jake’s toiletries –– which made him come to the realization that actually, maybe nothing had happened between you two at all.

At the end of the day, you’re still Jake’s girl. Nothing changed that. Not even his stupid confession of love for you.

When he stepped out of the shower, he concluded that what really happened was: he shared his feelings for you on a whim, you basically rejected him, and now you’re probably just being nice to him, acting like everything is fine because he’s still Jake’s best friend after all.

Fuck, now he’s embarrassed. He should just forget about this whole ordeal –– right?

⋆˚࿔

For the rest of the week, Sunghoon was lucky enough to not bump into you anywhere –– not even inside their apartment. There were days where he knew you were over, but you never came out of Jake’s room whenever he was around.

All Sunghoon had been looking forward to all week was Anton’s frat party. It was basically an excuse for him to abuse alcohol and make bad decisions.

Once he came home from his last lab at 7:30 p.m. on Friday, he found his quiet sanctuary (his shared apartment) filled with all of his friends, quickly grabbing a beer from one of the cartons before ducking into his room to change.

Sunghoon tried to act nonchalantly, pretending like he didn’t actually care about what he was gonna wear to the frat party. It’s not even like he has clothes that would upstage anyone’s outfit, he was really overthinking it for no reason.

Knock knock.

“Yo, just come in, why’d you have to fucking knock?” he yells.

A small voice spoke through the crack of his door, “Oh, sorry, um, it’s just me, y/n, the guys need help picking up the keg stand.”

Sunghoon almost got whiplash from how fast he turned his head around to look at you; you hadn’t stepped a foot into his room, the door was slightly creaked open, and your head was down –– which he soon realized it’s because he doesn’t have a shirt on.

He swiftly grabbed the first shirt that was within vicinity and threw it on, “Oh sorry, I thought you were one of the guys, you caught me off guard.”

You flail your hands, finally looking up now that he’s fully clothed, “No! It’s okay! They told me to go and get you –– wait.”

Sunghoon furrows his eyebrows, wait for what?

All he could hear was your laughter, one that he recognized all too well, “Maybe you should change your shirt, Hoon.”

He immediately dropped his head down to look at what he was wearing.

…of course the shirt he had to grab happened to be the stupid t-shirt Heeseung gave him for Christmas that says “Mike Who Cheese Hairy” in bold.

Great, could Sunghoon’s life get any worse?

That night, he had a little too much to drink, actually maybe way more than he anticipated. But Sunghoon wasn’t the messy type of drunk –– at least that’s what he thinks.

He was never the type of guy who let himself get too intoxicated. He usually knew what his limits were. Oftentimes, he thought that overly drunk people in public settings were making a fool of themselves and that maybe those people just had a humiliation kink.

But as of right now, Sunghoon’s kinda having trouble holding his balance at Alpha Epsilon Pi’s mixer.

In his defence, he only got this fucked up because him and Jake were going back-to-back on that keg stand trying to outdo the other –– which only got the both of them hammered.

What made things even worse for Sunghoon, however, was the fact that 15 feet away from him were you and Jake.

Sunghoon was consumed in jealousy. How could he not? He can’t bring himself to look away from the painful scene in front of him, Jake wobbling against the island table with his hands wrapped around your waist while you fix his scruffy hair.

All he could think was: I’m drunk as fuck too. Where’s my help?

He scoffed and decided he’s had enough and went up the stairs. Using all of his strength, he managed to lock himself in a bathroom and finally took a deep breath out.

Sunghoon kept blinking his eyes while staring at his reflection in the mirror –– trying to desperately convince himself he’s not seeing double right now. 

Thinking that he might be able to sober up, he turned on the faucet, cupping his hand and drank from the sink (he also splashed a bunch of water on his face, slapped himself 10x, and tried to pull trig, which he failed to do). 

After 15 minutes had passed by and a hundred knocks later, Sunghoon decided to finally come out of his lavatory dungeon –– and of course the first person who he sees is Jake.

At this point, he’s just silently preparing himself to see you and him be all flirty and couple-y again.

Except, when Sunghoon gets closer, he realizes that Jake isn’t with you –– but another girl?

He immediately paused in his tracks, watching what was happening in front of him. Sunghoon was confused, where were you? Why weren’t you with Jake? And most importantly, what is Jake doing with another girl?

Should he say something? He should go up to him and stop him, right? But is that the best thing to do? What even is Jake doing?

The longer Sunghoon looks, the more uncertain he becomes. Jake seems a little too close to the girl, even if they aren’t kissing or doing anything… but why doesn’t this seem right to him?

Would this be considered cheating? Nothing sexual seems to be happening, just a bunch of teasing arm grabbing and touching.

But that wasn’t you, and you’re his girlfriend. If it wasn’t cheating, it still had to be fucking weird. Sunghoon was infuriated. Jake got the girl but can’t even treat her right? 

He knew then that he had to leave before he made a scene.

When he came back downstairs, he couldn’t help but feel suffocated. There were too many people, the air was stuffy, it reeked of alcohol, and the soles of his shoes were too sticky to stay inside any longer. So he decided to step outside instead. 

Sunghoon sat on a curb a couple of feet away from the fraternity, but still far enough that he wouldn’t be disturbed by booming bass or intoxicated party-goers. He figured he’d stay outside till his friends decide they’ve had enough with partying –– he wasn’t really feeling the vibe of the function anyways.

At one point, Sunghoon decided to just lay down on the pavement because he was drunk and he can. Out of boredom he began counting how many streetlights ran up and down the street, eventually dozing off in the process.

Coming out of a hazy state, all Sunghoon could hear was his name being repeated multiple times. When he opened his eyes, he came face-to-face with you.

You give a big sigh of relief, “Oh thank god, I thought you died for a second dude. Don’t scare me like that!” 

“What? …y/n?” Sunghoon rubs his eyes, “Sorry, I accidentally um, fell asleep I think.”

You laugh while Sunghoon fixes his posture and sits up right again, “Can I sit beside you?”

To be honest, Sunghoon still kinda feels foggy in his half-woken drunk state, so he can’t really think properly, “Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” He pats on the ground beside him. You take a seat, bringing your chin to your knees, playing with the gravel beneath you.

“Are you not having fun?” You ask.

Sunghoon looks straight ahead and shakes his head, “Not really feeling it today.”

You nod in agreement, continuing to collect pebbles with your right hand.

After a beat, Sunghoon turns to look at you, “Hey, I, um, need to tell you something important.”

“Hmm? What is it?”

He lets a deep exhale out before bringing himself to speak again, “I saw Jake inside with another girl. They weren’t like, doing anything but it’s just weird –– I don’t know if this is cheating but I thought I should tell–”

Your eyes stay fixed on the ground, “I know.”

Sunghoon furrows his eyebrows at you, “What do you mean?”

“That’s why we were arguing last week. This has always been an issue with him, even if it isn’t physically cheating.”

Sunghoon didn’t know this. All he could hear during your arguments with Jake was the volume of the TV on max. Carefully, he asked, “Is this… not the first time?”

“No.”

You almost feel ashamed that you’re confessing this all to Sunghoon. You’re scared of what he’d think of you. You already know what he’s like, what he’s probably thinking of you at this moment. You’re aware of how pathetic you sound right now.

Before he could even think about what he was saying, he blurted it all out, “I don’t get it, then why don’t you just break up with him? Isn’t what he’s doing bothering you?”

That night, you and Sunghoon found out something about each other: the two of you probably shouldn’t be together while drunk.

“...I don’t know. Wouldn’t breaking up with him mean that I won’t be able to see you anymore?”

“What? Why are you saying that?”

“If me and Jake end on bad terms, does that mean that you won’t be there for me anymore?”

⋆˚࿔

After Jake had dropped you off at your apartment that night last week, you realized you were more angry than sad. All of those tears had dried up, and now you were yelling on the phone.

“Why would he do this now when he had all that time last year and make a proper move! It’s not my fault he didn’t man up sooner!” You ranted on the phone.

You didn’t know what else to do except call Giselle and ask for some advice. 

“I don’t get Sunghoon, he never did anything about us for so long and now he wants to tell me that he wanted me first?”

“Well, what are you going to do about it? You’re with his best friend now,” Giselle asks on the other side of the speaker.

You wipe your mascara-streaked eyes with a cotton pad, “I would have loved it if he told me all of that a year ago, that’s what I wanted. He missed his chance and now I’m just stuck in a sticky situation.”

“But, you love Jake right?”

“Yeah...” you murmured, “Right.”

Before you were with Jake, Sunghoon was the one you wanted most. 

To you, Park Sunghoon was like this shiny, perfect Ken doll that you wanted so badly but couldn’t get no matter what.

Contrary to popular belief, you had made your advances towards him –– just in different ways. So you actually never knew if he caught on or not. Over time it seemed like Sunghoon really had no interest in you at all, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t heartbroken over it at all.

You decided to move on after being sure that nothing would happen with you and Sunghoon. In all honesty, you were never that interested in Jake at the beginning.

It was always him starting conversations, making plans. And after a while, you started getting used to Jake’s company.

But for some reason, the closer you got with Jake, the further Sunghoon seemed to get. At the time, you knew not to think any more about you and Sunghoon –– it wasn’t happening and that’s final.

You came to learn that Jake was a pretty outgoing and talkative guy, the complete opposite of Sunghoon. 

When Jake finally asked you to be his girlfriend, you won’t lie. You were taken aback. It’s true, you do like Jake… but what about Sunghoon? Were you really over this crush? Are you going to have to be around him all the time because he’s Jake’s best friend? You didn’t know if you could do that.

You snap back into reality when you remind yourself that Sunghoon just doesn’t like you like that.

And it wasn’t like you didn’t like Jake at all. So, you gave him a chance.

Sim Jake was extroverted, polite, and friendly –– maybe a little too friendly. Being in social settings with him almost felt exhausting sometimes. He was the kind of guy that was able to go up to anyone and be able to talk to them.

The first time he ever got too friendly with a girl, you tried to ignore it. You made excuses for him like, that’s just the way he is, maybe I’m being an overbearing girlfriend.

But then it happened a second time, then a third time, then it just kept going.

This was the main reason for most of your arguments.

The start of your arguments often looked like this: the two of you would go somewhere, Jake would get a little too close, a little too talkative to a girl, and you had to wait till you guys were alone to bring up your concerns.

“Jake, I just really don’t like how overly friendly you are with other girls. It makes me feel weird as your girlfriend.”

Jake doesn’t seem to be taking the conversation seriously, “C’mon, y/n you’re the only girl I have eyes for.”

You shrug, sitting on the edge of his bed, “Can’t you just, I don’t know, not… do that? I really don’t like it.”

He tenses his forehead, fixing his position on the bed, “...do you not trust me?”

Your eyes widen in shock, “No! That’s not what I’m saying at all!”

And that’s essentially how you and Jake got into that huge argument last week.

What a mess.

⋆˚࿔

When Sunghoon woke up the day after the frat party, he was met with constant panging in his head. He only remembers little bits and pieces of the night and genuinely cannot, for the life of him, remember how he even got home that night. 

It was only till after breakfast that he found out Sunoo had called him a Uber home after he spotted him crying alone on the curbside.

Why was he even crying? He can’t remember, no matter how hard he tries to pull it out of his memory, nothing comes out.

Sunghoon’s roommates were usually out and about on Saturdays, so he decided to dedicate his Saturdays to self-care –– which in Sunghoon’s case, means watching cute videos of animals and yelling at his teammates over the mic that they suck ass all day.

He couldn’t even do that because of all that banging inside his head. Even after taking some Tylenol, it just wouldn’t stop pounding. So Sunghoon decided he should try to sleep it out on the couch.

After a couple of minutes of tossing and turning, Sunghoon finally found some tranquility –– but this was ruined the second he heard their apartment door slam shut.

Sunghoon almost fell off of the couch due to the sound, “What the fuck are you slamming doors for in the afternoon?”

When he looks up to see which one of his roommates almost broke their door down, he sees Jake –– his expression annoyed and Sunghoon’s presence totally ignored. Jake slams his own door shut without saying a word.

Sunghoon always knew not to bother Jake when he was upset and to just wait for him to feel better, so instead he sent a couple texts to Heeseung and Jay asking what’s up with Jake.

SUNGHOON What’s up with Jake He just came in slamming doors looking pissy and my head fucking hurtssss

JJONGSAENG think he and y/n broke up

HEESEUNG U being deadass?

JJONGSAENG yeah but jake didn’t tell me tho heard thru the grapevine  u know how fast rumours spread on campus but pretty sure they did i’ll ask him later

Upon reading these texts Sunghoon sat up immediately. All those times he prayed for you and Jake to break up finally came into fruition. But was it right for him to be celebrating like this? Jake’s still his best friend after all.

His thumb hovers over your contact on his phone –– but what was he even going to do? Say, hey heard you and Jake broke up, I’m sorry. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I'll be waiting?

He felt incompetent and stupid thinking about this, so he just turned off his phone and kept trying to sleep.

Later that night, Sunghoon found out that you broke up with him and not the other way around. Sunghoon tried really hard not to smile when Jake was explaining what had happened between the two of them to their roommates. 

They found out that you had broken up with him after he said, quote, “...she saw me with another girl at the frat and got so fucking upset about something and the fact that I was ‘acting out’ at the party, then she left without a word. It wasn’t until this morning she texted asking me to come over to talk. I didn’t know she was gonna break up with me?!”

At the frat? Was it the one Sunghoon had seen him with when he left the bathroom?

Truthfully, Sunghoon had been waiting for a text from you even though he knew it wouldn’t happen. After a week went by without hearing from you, he gave up on waiting.

Jake was up and running again in no time. He was the kind of person that could easily bounce back from adversities. He did admit, however, that he tried reaching out to you multiple times but never got a reply.

Sunghoon kept getting deja vu, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what’s so familiar –– until it clicked. Remnants of the night slowly started popping up again.

“What do you mean ‘I won’t be there for you anymore?’” Sunghoon asked you on the curb.

You turn your head on your knees to face him now, “I mean, would I lose you for good if Jake’s not in the picture anymore?”

Sunghoon didn’t know if he was absolutely plastered or if these words were actually coming out of your mouth right now.

“No,” Sunghoon shook his head, “No you won’t.”

The corners of your mouth turn upward, “Okay.” You stand up and brush off all the gravel from your clothes, “Are you going to be alright?”

His eyes stay fixed on you, nodding.

“Well,” you sigh, dusting your hands off, “I have to go back to the party. Text me, okay?”

Sunghoon was even more confused now –– on top of already being drunk and overly emotional –– so he burst out in tears. He tried his hardest to keep the tears from spilling out but the floodgates just wouldn’t close.

It wasn’t even just the whole him, you, and Jake situation that caused this –– it was also all the emotions that he had been building up for years.

Being Park Sunghoon –– stuck-up, critical, nitpicky, and insufferable since birth –– was hard. 

⋆˚࿔

Sunghoon found himself stuck in a dilemma. On one hand, he has Jake, his best friend, and on the other hand he has you –– but he wants both.

It seems like an easy decision, right? Jake’s his best friend, so ultimately he’s gotta kick the girl to the curb –– except Sunghoon doesn’t want just anyone, he wants you. 

He knew trying finding someone like you would be impossible.

It was truly a newfound feeling when he had experienced butterflies for the first time. He’s honestly never felt this deeply about a girl before. 

So what else can he do but text you when you ask him to? …two weeks later after mustering up the courage to open up your messages on his phone.

SUNGHOON Hey How have you been?

YOU hey!!!! u finally texted me i’ve been good thanks for asking

Sunghoon taps his foot on the ground, biting his nails, thinking about what else he could say to you to keep the conversation going.

SUNGHOON That’s good I know a lot has happened the past two weeks

You assume he’s referring to you and Jake breaking up. The two of you haven’t seen each other since Alpha Epsilon Pi’s mixer.

Admittedly, the last conversation you had with Sunghoon really cleared a lot of the looming thoughts you had stuck in your brain.

It’s been two weeks since you broke up with Jake.

It’s also been two weeks since Sunghoon told you that you wouldn’t lose him for good.

YOU yea  we should catch up let’s have a drink together like old times :))

⋆˚࿔

Like old times.

Sunghoon sat in a booth at his local university pub, just like he would last year. Waiting for you all the time.

In truth, Sunghoon couldn’t shake off the nerves of seeing you again after a while –– so to curb his anxiety he ordered two beers. One for you and one for himself. Well, at least that’s what he intended at first, but after he finished his bottle he still felt nervous so he drank “yours.”

You aren’t even late to meet him, he’s just way too early.

Ah fuck, he thought. If you still weren’t here and he’d already drank his own beer and “your” beer, and the two of you were meeting for drinks –– wouldn’t that suggest they were going to get multiple drinks?

Sunghoon covered his mouth, murmuring to himself silently, “Oh my god, how drunk am I gonna get. I can't embarrass myself.” (Spoiler alert, he wasn't actually that drunk throughout the night, definitely just the placebo effect).

You actually arrive 10 minutes before your meeting time thinking you’d be early, but you were surprised when you saw Sunghoon sipping beer by himself, “Hey! You’re really early.”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon grins, “I guess you are too. How have you been?”

You seat yourself on the other side of the booth, “Well,” you sigh, “you already know what’s been going on with me and Jake.”

Sunghoon flinched at the mention of Jake’s name. Oh god, now he really was going to have a nervous breakdown. In the midst of this all, Sunghoon actually forgot about Jake in the equation.

Is it appropriate to be meeting his now ex-girlfriend for drinks? Like, just two of them? But wait, Sunghoon was friends with y/n way before him so would this be justified? Whatever, he needs a drink.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that.”

You figured you probably shouldn't have brought that up and sheepishly smiled, “Why would you be sorry? Let’s order some drinks!”

After three more beers, a long island iced tea, and a mojito later, it was safe to say you and Sunghoon had all the alcohol courage you could get.

The two of you were laughing about, god knows what, for the past two hours –– but the topic of conversation never mattered between you and him. You could talk to him about anything. 

You stretch your arms up, “Do you think we should leave?” you and Sunghoon turn to look around the pub and realize they’re getting ready for closing.

Sunghoon ended up paying for all the drinks which made you feel giddy and thankful because your drinks were $15 each and you weren’t planning on going broke that night.

Outside of the pub, you and Sunghoon kept the laughter going. God, it’s been so long since you’ve hung out with him like this. You never realized how much you missed him.

“So…” Sunghoon drags out, “is this goodbye?”

You fish for your phone in your purse to check the time, “Wanna keep talking and have drinks at my place?”

He smiles at you, gesturing to the sidewalk ahead, “Lead the way Missy.”

When you finally arrive at your apartment, you push the door open and welcome him in, “My humble abode.”

Sunghoon had never been to your apartment before. Back then he thought it would be creepy and invasive if he asked to hang out at yours instead. He always knew you were a nostalgic and sentimental person, but your apartment unit really personified it. You kept all of the cheerleading medals you had stacked up in high school years ago, your fridge filled with photos of you and your loved ones, you even had a pile of every birthday card you’ve received in the corner of your desk.

Without meaning to, Sunghoon found himself meddling around your apartment inspecting everything you possessed. He wanted to know what you were like before he met you –– he wanted to know everything he could about you.

A finger taps on Sunghoon’s shoulder making him jolt, “You snooping around?” you tease.

He stammers, “No– sorry, I– I was just curious.”

You chuckle and walk towards the kitchen to grab some more drinks, “I’m just kidding, Hoon.”

Exactly like a loyal golden retriever would, he followed behind you quietly. You pass him a bottle of beer and take a sip of your seltzer. You prop yourself up the counter, legs lightly swinging from the ground, “So…”

In front of you, he puts a hand in his pocket and takes a swig of beer with the other, “...so” he repeats.

At this point, the alcohol wore off from the walk back to yours. Both of you were the right amount of buzzed –– giggly drunk.

“But seriously, how have you been? Like truthfully.” you ask.

Sunghoon tries to think hard about it –– but he’s always stuck to the same routine he’s had for the past three years. He scratches the back of his neck, “I dunno, life’s been the same as always. Wake up, eat, sleep, repeat all over again.”

You tilt your head, “Same old Sunghoon, doesn’t it get tiring sometimes?”

“What does? The routine?”

“No,” you fiddle with your fingers, “bottling everything up.”

Sunghoon’s surprised by your answer. He wonders what makes you think that, “What do you mean?”

You chug the remaining of your seltzer, “It’s just– it seems like you had a lot on your plate recently.”

At first, he wonders what you’re referring to. If he thinks hard about it, all he does is study, go to the gym, and play games. But when he finally realized what you were talking about he started getting flustered.

“...are you asking me this because of the conversation we had three weeks ago?”

He still remembers that night vividly. It had rained during the day, releasing the smell of petrichor and wet grass. The pavement hadn’t dried up yet where they stood –— he remembered because he kept his head down after Jake came to console you. He also remembers how he felt when he heard Jake come back from dropping you off. Straight guilt.

He laid in bed that night wondering what kind of “best friend” he was to say all of those things to you as if you weren’t dating Jake then. 

But now he’s standing in front of you, at your apartment, in your cramped kitchen, a little too close to each other.

“...yeah, sorry,” you apologize, “it seemed like you had a lot on your mind then.”

Sunghoon steps a bit closer, slightly wedged in between your legs, “I did have a lot on my mind then.” he confessed.

Not once breaking eye contact with you, he takes a final swig of his beer before he lightly places the empty bottle on the counter.

“Would you tell me if I asked?” you let him slide in between your thighs.

He boxes you in when he places both hands on the counter beside you, “I’d do anything you ask, y/n. You know that.”

You could hear the water drip from the kitchen faucet with how quiet it was.

“What about now? Do you still have a lot on your mind?”

Sunghoon pretends to ponder about it for a second before answering.

“Yeah.”

“...what are you thinking about right now?”

He only looks at you, fixing your hair before tucking a strand behind your ear.

“Whether this is a good idea or not.”

Sunghoon slowly leans in, almost as if he’s asking for permission before making a move –– and when you wrap your arms around his neck, he takes it as a green light and presses his lips against yours.

He thinks he’s dreamt about this moment his entire university career; what it would be like kissing you. Well now he knows. He knows that your lips taste like the cherry chapstick you always wear, that you kiss him softly, and that you get all handsy while making out. 

You drag your hand gently down Sunghoon’s chest and you assume he liked that considering you can feel him smiling on your lips. 

So you begin to outline his entire body. You trace your fingers along his jaw, the curvature of his abs, his biceps. You gently tug on his hair which elicits a small groan from him. You’re everywhere, you were ravenous.

All that time back then, when you’d pine over ice prince Park Sunghoon and throw hints at him here and there –– he never got the message though. 

But now you’re here, kissing Sunghoon, and you just can’t get enough –– and it seems like he can’t either.

Sunghoon caresses the outline of your waist, fingers slightly skimming up your skin, when he pulls away to pepper light kisses on your neck, “you know,” he mumbled, "I've been waiting for this moment ever since we first met.”

A small moan escapes your lips when he starts licking behind your ear, “Hoon,” you breathe out, “...do you want to go to my bedroom?”

He swears he can see stars now from how lightheaded he feels right now. He can’t even process that what’s happening is actually happening. 

Is this real life? 

Instead of exchanging words, he lets his body talk, picking you up from the counter walking towards your room, where he lays you down with the utmost care –– like you were his most prized possession. 

Cautiously, he asks, “Do you really wanna…”

“Yes. I do.” You shut him up with a kiss, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. You knew he understood the memo when he pulled away to throw his shirt to the ground.

He falls back into you, moving his knee between your thighs when he cups your face to kiss you again. This time, it’s messy, it’s desperate. Sunghoon wants to explore every inch of you, learn how your mind works, what you’ve experienced in life, what you haven’t, what you want to. He slides his tongue like he’s going to devour you.

Slowly, he peeled off all your clothes one-by-one until you’re left in your undergarments. You wish you had known what your plans were gonna be tonight otherwise you would’ve surely put on some better lingerie.

Sunghoon doesn’t give a fuck though, you were laying in front of him undressed and beautiful, how could he focus on something so miniscule when he has you all to himself? …but he also didn’t care because it’s going to come off anyways.

He unclasps your bra, exposing your bare chest. His kisses trailed from your throat all the way to your inner thighs. Now he was perched in between your legs next to your clothed pussy. He smirked when he saw how soaked your panties were, “You get this wet for me?”

You cover your eyes using your forearms out of embarrassment, “Just stop teasing, Hoon.”

“Hoon.”

God he loved hearing you call him by that nickname, he could feel his dick getting impossibly hard in his boxers. He’s going to absolutely destroy you.

Sunghoon delicately took off your panties before spreading your legs wider. He could see the slick from your pussy drooling onto the sheets already, and he swore he almost moaned.

You bite your bottom lip when he starts to place light kisses onto your pussy. He dragged his tongue from your fluttering hole to your clit. Park Sunghoon was a starved, starved man. He attaches himself onto your clit. He works his tongue until he gets you moaning, and when he’s decided he wants to hear you moan louder for him, he plunges two fingers in without warning.

Now he was knuckle deep inside of you, and those moans just kept escaping from your mouth, gradually getting louder and louder –– you pray you don’t get a noise complaint by the end of tonight. He pumps his fingers with vigor, eventually finding your most sensitive spot. 

He’s still lapping at your pussy while he massages your spongy G-spot. Sunghoon assumes he’s doing a great job since your legs are shaking …and also because you keep cheering him on like he’s a D1 athlete, “Ffffuck… Hoon– Please just– don’t stop. K–keep going!”

When you start to thrash around he tightens his grip on your plush thigh, continuing to work his tongue and fingers inside of you. He could tell you were about to cum from the fact that your pussy kept pulsing while his fingers were in deep.

“W– Wait,” You grab onto the sheets, “Hoon wait, I think– I feel like I’m gonna pee.”

“So what? Just relax and let it out.”

You do what he says, your juices coating his tongue. You watched him suck up every drop. The squelching sound was filthy, his fingers still scissoring you open. He brings himself up to lick at your neck while his fingers stay buried inside of your pussy, “You like that?”

What a freak. 

You never expected Park Sunghoon of all people acting this way in bed.

Your mouth drops open, nodding in agreement, “Uh huh…” Your breathing pattern still off from your last orgasm, “I fucking love it.”

He sucks at your neck, “Atta girl,” his fingers finally pull out of your cunt, dragging his hand up to one to fondle with one of your titties, “You gonna let me fuck you then?”

“Please.”

His lips curled into a devilish smirk, pulling out his cock out from his sweatpants. Teasingly, he raises his eyebrows at you, hand holding his cock –– silently curious about whether you could take the dick or not.

Saliva started pooling on the corners of your mouth and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. Sunghoon takes one good look at your swollen clit and puffy lips before he aligns himself at your entrance.

You’re horny and throbbing, you can barely hold your patience while Sunghoon seems to look extremely entertained taunting you by slightly pushing the head in before pulling out. He grabs ahold of your hips, bringing you closer to him. 

You laid there biting your nails wondering if he’s ever going to actually fuck you when he slides his cock inside your pussy inch-by-inch without warning. He starts thrusting in and out, grabbing your face to sloppily kiss you. All that drool you’ve accumulated from your past orgasm had been licked clean from your mouth to your chin. 

Sunghoon was insatiable. He started kneading your titties, his dick still fucking you nice and open. You probably still don’t know that he hadn’t even put the entire thing in yet. He starts rolling your nipples in between his knuckles before pinching them –– bottoming out completely at the same time.

You just had to lay there and take it. Everything hurt but felt so good at the same time. You hear the schlick-schlick-schlicking sound coming from his dick relentlessly pounding into your drenched pussy.

“Mmphf! Wait, Hoon it f– feels ssoo… good.” You manage to whimper out.

“You just–” thrust, “take it–” thrust, “so fucking well.” thrust.

He was inside so raw, so deep. You thought he was inside of you to the hilt, but when he pressed your thighs against your chest, he found a new angle and somehow managed to fuck you even deeper. You could feel his fat tip battering up against your cervix with every pump –– genuinely becoming scared at one point that his cock would slide into your womb. Your moans echoed throughout your apartment unit. It honestly sounds like pornstars having sex in here.

When Sunghoon felt your walls clamp down on his dick, he knew that you were about to cum soon. He began to really pound into you now, using his thumb to rub on your clit. It felt like he really did stretch you out. You look down at where the two of you connect and you cum at the sight of his cock plunging into you, forming a ring of milky white cum during the process. 

Sunghoon groans at how tight your pussy walls squeeze him in as he fucks you through your second orgasm. You were already so overstimulated; his pelvis rubbing against your sensitive clit, his cock deep inside you, your nipples being rolled and pinched. You couldn’t take it anymore.

Your whole body is quivering at this point and Sunghoon is still spearing you in half. You push at his chest, “W– Wait, hold on.”

He pulls out and looks at you with a cocky smirk on his face, “What’s wrong, baby? Can’t take the dick?”

You pant out, “I just…” You bring your hands to your legs, attempting to stop them from shaking, but it’s no use, “...I just need a second.”

“You tapping out?” he tuts.

Despite having to take a quick breather, you quickly shake your head no.

You crawl towards him now, wrapping your warm hands on the base of his cock. He groans at your touch and revels in it. You lick the tip like it’s candy.

You wait till he lets out a couple more groans before you finally wrap your lips around him and slowly slide his cock down deeper into your throat, stroking the rest with a hand.

A sense of satisfaction washed over you when you looked up to see Sunghoon with his hair tussled, head thrown back, mouth agape. It only pushed you to do more. You relax your throat to prepare for the intrusion, gliding his cock down lower and lower. Sunghoon gently grabs a fistful of your hair enough to keep his balance. All you could hear were his groans of pleasure. 

You try to keep all of him in your mouth for as long as you humanely could before pulling away from his shaft, sucking a big breath of fresh air in.

You could see his eyes darken, “Turn around for me.”

Confused but still compliant, you follow his orders and turn your back against him. He places his hand on your lower back, moving it up your spine to delicately push you back onto the bed. He grabs ahold of your hips, perching them up.

Now you were face down, ass up on your bed. 

Sunghoon smoothed the arch of your back with his calloused palm, finding its place at the nape of your neck. He growls lowly in your ear, “You gonna be good for me?”

“Uh huh,” you manage to get out.

He removes his hand at your neck, giving your ass a squeeze before entering inside you again. He hammers into you with the same drive and vigor, steadying your legs when he feels them start to tremor again.

You melt under his touch, the curve of his dick hitting that sensitive spot once again. The sound of your moans pushed him to go even further. He lands his two hands on the moons of your ass, spreading them wide open to see his wet dick pound into your dripping pussy, sliding deeper till he feels the resistance.

“Aargh,” he groans, swiping his thumb over the rim of your other hole.

“Fuuuck…” you whine out loud.

Sunghoon watches himself disappear in between your glistening pussy lips. The sheets beneath you two were pooled with your slick, you couldn’t control your moans anymore –– you knew you were about to give out and cum again any minute now.

Your pussy just squeezes him in right, he could keep fucking you all night. You push against him, fucking yourself on his cock when he starts laughing, “How bad do you want it, baby?”

You roll your hips on him, “I want it… bad.” you mewl.

He presses himself balls deep inside of you just to watch you struggle and grind on him to desperately reach your nth orgasm tonight. He caresses your asscheek when he’s decided he’s had enough fun watching you use him like a fuck toy.

Sunghoon starts thrusting into you again, slow and deep this time, jolting your body forward on the bed with each pump of his dick. When you feel him twitch inside of you, you knew his release was close –– his groans getting louder.

He starts pounding into you again relentlessly, feeling your gummy walls hugging him tight. You could feel him chasing his orgasm. His hand snakes its way to your lower stomach, brushing against the bulge of his bulbous cockhead before he presses down on it. The added pressure made your eyes roll back, gripping onto anything you could.

“Hoon… I’m gonna– I’m gonna cum.” you cry out.

“Then do it.”

You let yourself go, cumming so hard on his cock, you swore you were about to blackout from the feeling of immense pleasure.

He fastens the speed of his thrusts; you feel them become messy and sloppier. You hear his breathing getting ragged when he pulls out, stroking himself as thick ropes of sticky, white, cum spill onto your ass. You lay still on the mattress, still panting when Sunghoon finishes milking out every drop of cum.

Sunghoon uses the back of his hand to wipe off the sweat dripping down his forehead, “Wait,” he breathes out, promptly leaving the room to come back with a towel. He cleans you up when you start chuckling out loud.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, moving your hair out of your face.

“No, it’s just I haven’t had good sex in a while.” you giggle.

Confused, he asks, “Wait but, haven’t you…”

“Me and Jake never had sex.” you confessed.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened, “But– I heard you… in his room–”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you look at him, face puzzled, “Maybe we were watching a movie?”

He decides to drop the topic and just be glad instead. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him, “I wish I’d done something sooner.”

Snug against his arms, you chirp, “Well, why didn’t you? I was throwing hints all the time!”

Now Sunghoon didn’t know this, “...what do you mean ‘throwing hints?’”

You playfully slap against his chest, “Freshman and sophomore year I was waiting for you to make a move but you never did! So I just assumed you didn’t like me like that and tried to move on…”

One thing about Sunghoon was: he wasn’t really good with social cues. He was always in his own little bubble doing his own thing. But now that he thinks about it, you were pretty obvious –– it just didn’t click to him back then.

The two of you ended up dozing off after talking for hours, and before you knew it, the sun was up again.

Both of you were awoken by a couple of hard knocks at your door.

Sunghoon yawns, “Who’s at your door this early?”

Half-awake, you slip into some clothes you find scattered on the floor, “I’m not sure, maybe a package I ordered?” You rub your eyes, “These FedEx guys always deliver packages so early.”

You quickly leave the room to see who’s at your apartment door. While waiting, Sunghoon props himself up against your headboard, reaching for his phone. He placed a hand behind his head while he started scrolling through his missed notifications. For some reason, Sunghoon felt like he was forgetting something –– he wasn’t sure what.

Something was off, but he couldn’t quite pin what it was. Was he just being paranoid? He bagged the girl of his dreams, he just had amazing sex, and now he’s waiting for you in your bed shirtless, boxers on.

He tries to run through his mental to-do list in his head: he already submitted his assignments, it’s the weekend so he doesn’t have any classes, his rent isn’t due till next month, he did his laundry yesterday –– so why did he feel like he was forgetting something?

Sunghoon hears your voice echo throughout the apartment, “Jake! What are you doing here?”

Oh shit.

kay's note: r/amitheasshole which one of them do you think is the biggest asshole: sunghoon, jake, reader, or all of them, cause i was lowkey thinking about it myself but i'm not too sure either

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

the university library was always suffocatingly quiet around midnight, the only sound being the aggressive clicking of your own keyboard and the hum of the old vending machines down the hall. you rubbed your eyes, the black and white text of your essay blurring together after hours of staring at the screen. you were so tired that your brain was starting to play tricks on you, making the skin on your arms prickle with that persistent feeling of being watched.

“get it together.” you mumbled to yourself, shifting in your plastic chair. you casually glanced up from your laptop, scanning the scattered students left on the third floor, trying to prove to yourself that absolutely no one was paying attention to you. and for the most part, you were right. a girl two rows over was fast asleep on her binder, and a guy near the elevators was aggressively chewing on his pencil.

but then your eyes flicked to the desk near the window. there was a guy sitting there, a dark hoodie pulled over his head, a silver laptop open in front of him. the moment your gaze landed on him, you realized he was already looking straight at you. his face was mostly in the shadows, but his posture was completely still, his dark eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach drop into a heavy knot. your heart gave a sudden and uncomfortable thump in your throat.

for a second, neither of you moved. then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he slowly looked back down at his screen, flipping a page in his notebook. your face instantly burned with embarrassment and you forced your eyes back to your essay, your fingers freezing over the keys. he wasn't staring at you, you argued with yourself, your chest tightening. he was literally just zoning out and looking in your direction. stop being so full of yourself.

you forced yourself to pack up your things, suddenly deciding you were way too sleep-deprived to be productive anymore. as you shoved your laptop into your bag, you reached into your coat pocket for your wired earphones. the ones you distinctly remembered putting in there before leaving your dorm. but they weren't there.

you frowned, digging deeper into the fabric, checking your backpack slots, but the tangled white wires were nowhere to be found. you let out an irritated sigh, shaking your head. you had probably left them on the desk during your afternoon lecture, or maybe you dropped them in the cafeteria. you were getting so careless lately.

leaving the library, the autumn air hit your face, making you shiver as you walked out onto the dimly lit campus quad. the concrete paths were mostly empty, the tall oak trees casting distorted shadows under the streetlamps. you quickened your pace, your sneakers squeaking against the damp pavement.

and then you heard it. the rhythmic thud of footsteps a few yards behind you. your body went completely rigid, your heartbeat spiking as you resisted the urge to walk faster. it's a public campus. people walk home at night. you are literally fine. wanting to get the anxiety over with, you stepped to the side of the path under a streetlamp and pretended to check your phone, letting the person pass you.

the dark-hooded silhouette glided right past you without a single glance. it was him, the guy from the library. he didn't look at you, didn't slow down, his hands shoved into his pockets as he walked at a completely normal pace toward the science buildings. he smelled faintly of rain and a seemingly expensive, clean laundry detergent.

you stood there for a few seconds, staring at his retreating back and feeling like the absolute biggest idiot on campus. your cheeks burned with a mix of leftover adrenaline and pure embarrassment. he hadn't even blinked in your direction. you took a deep breath, cursing your overactive imagination, and turned around to continue walking toward your dorm, desperate to just crawl into bed.

“hey.” the voice was deep, cutting through the quiet rustle of the autumn leaves behind you. you froze in your tracks, your stomach doing another one of those annoying little flips. you turned around slowly, your eyes widening slightly as you saw him standing just a few feet away. he had stopped under the orange glow of the streetlamp, his hands still shoved into his hoodie pocket, looking down at you. up close, without the shadows of the library hiding his face, you felt a sudden prickle of heat in your chest. he was incredibly good-looking. sharp jawline, messy dark hair poking out from his hood, and eyes that felt way too heavy when they fixed on yours.

“i think you dropped these.” he took one hand out of his pocket, extending his arm toward you. dangling from his fingers were your wired earphones, perfectly intact.

you stared at them, your brain short-circuiting for a second. “oh my god.” you stepped forward, quickly taking them from his hand. your fingers brushed against his skin for a fraction of a second, and a strange jolt shot up your arm. his skin was freezing from the night air. “i was looking everywhere for these. thank you so much.”

“you left them on the desk near the window.” he said, his voice completely flat, completely calm. he didn't smile, but he didn't look annoyed either. he just kept staring at you with that same unreadable intensity from earlier, making you feel incredibly self-conscious. you wondered if he had noticed you staring back at him in the library. the thought made your face flush even deeper, your mind scrambling for something normal to say so you didn't look like a total freak.

“right, the desk... i'm so careless when i'm tired.” you let out a nervous, awkward laugh, instantly wanting to punch yourself for sounding so pathetic. “i actually thought i lost them in the cafeteria earlier. thank you for bringing them out.”

“it's fine.” he shrugged slightly, his eyes dropping to your face, tracking the way you were fidgeting with the wires in your hands. “you should pay more attention to your surroundings, y/n.”

you blinked, the small smile freezing on your face. your heart skipped a beat, a cold prickle of that familiar anxiety returning to the back of your neck. “how do you know my name?”

he didn't look bothered by the question at all. he just tilted his head slightly, an almost imperceptible smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you have a student ID keychain on your backpack. it's pretty loud when you walk.”

your eyes flicked down to your bag, your stomach dropping in a mix of relief and utter humiliation. of course. your plastic ID sleeve was dangling right from the main zipper, your name printed in bold black letters for anyone to see. you were too tired of your paranoia, but your high anxiety levels had created that kind of thoughts for you your entire life.

“right. of course.” you muttered, looking down at your shoes, wishing the concrete would just open up and swallow you whole.

“get home safe.” he said quietly. before you could even think of a response or find the courage to ask for his name, he turned on his heel and continued walking toward the science buildings, his hands disappearing back into his hoodie pockets.

you stood under the streetlamp for a long moment, watching his tall figure slowly blend into the darkness of the campus paths. your chest felt incredibly tight, feeling too embarrassed at the fact that you had just completely made a fool of yourself in front of such a cute guy. you took a shaky breath, tightly clutching the white wires of your earphones in your hand as you finally forced your legs to move toward your dorm.

by the time you unlocked your door and slipped inside, the familiar warmth of your room made your shoulders relax slightly. you leaned your head against the wood, letting out an exhausted sigh. you're just stressed, you told yourself, walking over to the bathroom sink to splash some cold water on your face. you are sleep-deprived and projecting your anxiety onto random strangers who are literally just doing a nice deed. looking at your tired reflection in the mirror, you shook your head, determined to forget about the library guy and your overactive imagination.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

the university campus felt entirely too small over the next few days.

it started on tuesday. you were sitting in the back row of your massive auditorium for a general education lecture, trying your best to focus on the professor's slides, when the wooden doors at the back clicked open. a few people turned around to see who was late, and your eyes casually followed theirs.

it was him. he was wearing a oversized grey sweatshirt this time, his dark hair a little messy as he walked down the concrete steps with a blank expression. your heart gave an unexpected thump against your ribs, and you quickly looked back down at your notebook, your cheeks warming up instantly. great. he’s in this class? how had you never noticed him before? “sorry i'm late, professor.” his deep voice echoed through the hall, making the skin on your arms prickle with a strange familiarity.

“just take a seat, sunghoon.” the professor didn't even look up from his papers, waving his hand dismissively.

sunghoon. the name repeated in your head, fitting him a little too well. you kept your eyes glued to your desk, pretending to write down notes you didn't even need. but from the corner of your eye, you tracked his movement as he slid into a row just a few seats away from yours. he didn't look at you. he didn't even glance in your direction as he pulled out a black leather notebook and a pen.

you forced yourself to take a steadying breath, trying to calm the stupid flutter in your stomach. it was just a coincidence. university lectures had hundreds of students, so it made perfect sense that you would share a class with a guy who frequented the same library.

but as the two hour lecture dragged on, you couldn't shake the prickling sensation on the side of your face. it was that exact same feeling from the library — the phantom weight of eyes tracking your every move. every single time you dared to glance over to check, sunghoon was staring straight ahead at the whiteboard, his chin resting lazily on his palm, paying perfect attention to the lesson.

when the professor finally dismissed the class, the sudden rustle of hundreds of students packing up their bags felt like a splash of cold water, breaking the suffocating spell. you let out a breath you felt like you had been holding for the last hour, quickly shoving your laptop and notebook into your bag. you just wanted to get out of there, desperately needing to escape the weird tension you had completely manufactured in your own head.

“see you guys next week.” the professor called out over the noise of shuffling feet.

you swung your backpack over one shoulder and stepped out into the aisle, but because everyone was rushing for the main exit at the same time, the crowd slowed down to a painful crawl. you were trapped in a sea of students, slowly shuffling down the concrete steps. you kept your eyes glued to the back of the jacket of the person in front of you, but a sudden shift in the crowd forced you to step slightly to the right. your shoulder bumped directly into someone else's.

“sorry.” you mumbled automatically, your stomach instantly dropping into a cold knot before you even looked up to see who it was. the clean scent of expensive laundry detergent hit your nose a second before you made eye contact. it was sunghoon.

up close in the bright auditorium lights, he looked even more intimidatingly handsome than he had under the dim streetlamp. his eyes looked down at you, totally calm and unbothered by the sudden collision. you felt your face burst into a humiliating burn, your heart thumping wildly against your ribs. of all the people in this room, why did it have to be him?

“it’s fine.” he said, his deep voice carrying that same flat tone from the night before. he didn’t move away, staying right beside you as the crowd slowly dragged the both of you toward the exit doors.

you cleared your throat, nervously clutching the strap of your backpack, feeling like an absolute weirdo for how fast your heart was racing. “i, uh... i didn't know you took this class.” you immediately wanted to bite your tongue off. why did you say that? it made you sound like you had been tracking his schedule or something.

sunghoon didn't answer right away. he just kept walking at your pace, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his grey sweatshirt. you dared to look at him, finding him already looking down at you with an unreadable expression. “i could say the same about you. you usually sit in the front rows for your other lectures, don't you?”

how does he know where i sit in my other classes? you couldn’t help thinking. before you could create your own theories, sunghoon tilted his head slightly, an almost mocking glimmer in his eyes. “we share an intro to sociology lecture on mondays.”

your face felt so hot you were sure it was bright red. of course you shared another massive lecture with him. campus was small, and general education requirements meant everyone took the same basic classes. “right. sociology.” you muttered, looking down at the floor as you finally pushed through the auditorium doors and out into the chilly hallway. “i guess i just don't pay enough attention.”

“clearly.” sunghoon murmured, so softly you almost didn't catch it over the loud chatter of the hallway. “see you around, then.”

you stood frozen for a second, watching his tall figure easily cut through the crowd of students before disappearing around the corner. you bit your lip, a wave of familiar frustration washing over you. of course he noticed you in sociology, you probably dropped your pen three times or looked like a nervous wreck. you let out a quiet sigh and started the long walk back to your dorm, completely resolved to stop overanalyzing every single thing that happened to you. you were being a creep by how much you were thinking about it at that point.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

by the weekend, the whole sunghoon thing had mostly faded into the background of your mind, replaced by the mundane stress of upcoming midterms and chores. you were currently kneeling on the floor of your tiny dorm room, dumping a pile of freshly dried clothes onto your bed to fold them. as you sorted through the laundry, you paused, furrowing your brows. you reached into the basket, tossing socks aside as you looked for a specific black lace pair you had bought just last month. it wasn't there. come to think of it, you hadn't seen your favorite white set in a week either. you sat back on your heels, a small frown forming on your lips. this was the third time this month you felt like your underwear drawer was looking a little emptier than usual. it was always the nicer ones, too.

just then, the door clicked open and your roommate walked in, dropping her backpack heavily onto her desk chair. “hey.” you called out, looking up from your pile of clothes. “this is going to sound so weird, but have you accidentally picked up any of my laundry lately?”

“uh, no? why?” she asked, pulling her hair back into a messy bun as she turned to look at you.

“i don't know, it's just…” you muttered, suddenly feeling a bit silly. “i feel like i'm losing my mind, but some of my underwear is just gone. like, my favorite pairs. i thought maybe they got mixed up in your basket since we use the communal machines at the same time.”

your roommate laughed softly, shaking her head as she reached for a water bottle. “definitely not mine, y/n. you know the campus dryers are absolute black holes. they probably just got swallowed behind the drum, or someone took them by mistake if you left your load unattended. you know how people are down there.”

“yeah, you’re right.” you mumbled, looking down at your shoes, wishing you hadn't even brought it up.

you were always forgetting things or losing track of your stuff when you were stressed out. the dryers in the basement were ancient and terrible, and you had definitely left your clothes sitting in there for an extra twenty minutes on thursday because you had fallen asleep. it was your own fault for being so careless. you shook your head, completely dismissing the passing chill in your stomach, and went back to folding your shirts.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

by the time tuesday evening rolled around, autumn rain was pouring over the campus, blurring the streetlamps outside into fuzzy smudges. your roommate had a couple of friends over to pre-game for some club event, and the cramped atmosphere of your room was driving your anxiety through the roof. needing an escape and desperately craving some caffeine to survive your midnight study session, you grabbed your umbrella and ran out into the downpour, heading toward the small 24/7 convenience store located just at the edge of campus.

the store was completely dead when you walked in, the chime above the door echoing in the quiet space. it smelled like stale coffee and floor cleaner, the fluorescent lights reflecting off the bright floor. you let out a soft breath, shaking the water off your umbrella before propping it by the entrance. you walked down the narrow aisles, your sneakers squeaking loudly against the floor. you stopped in front of the refrigerated drinks section, staring blankly at the rows of iced coffees, trying to decide which one would keep you awake the longest.

“the double shot one works better.” the deep voice came from right beside you, so sudden and unexpected in the empty store that you literally jumped, your heart instantly leaping straight into your throat. a tiny gasp escaped your lips as you turned your head, your eyes widening.

it was sunghoon.

he was standing just a foot away from you, holding a black umbrella in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. he was wearing a dark rain jacket, the hood pushed back to reveal his damp dark hair, a few strands clinging to his forehead. those sharp eyes were looking down at you with that exact same unreadable expression.

“oh. jesus.” you breathed, pressing a hand against your chest to try and soothe your racing pulse. your face was already beginning to burn with overwhelming embarrassment. you felt like such a loser for flinching so hard. “you scared me. i didn't hear you walk in.”

“the door chimes.” sunghoon said flatly. he didn't smile, his voice carrying that same steady rhythm that always made your stomach do a weird little flip. he reached past you, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours, and pulled out the exact iced coffee he had just recommended. the distinct scent of rain and that clean laundry detergent instantly swirled around you, making you feel momentarily dizzy.

“right. yeah. i was just zoning out.” you mumbled, nervously tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. you quickly grabbed a random coffee drink just to give your hands something to do, wishing your heart would stop hammering so violently against your ribs. he's literally just buying a drink, y/n. stop acting like you've seen a ghost. you turned to walk toward the checkout counter, assuming the interaction was over, but sunghoon fell into step right next to you. the aisle was incredibly narrow, forcing the two of you to walk close enough that your arms occasionally brushed together.

“you look like you haven't slept since the library.” he murmured, his eyes scanning your face as you both stopped at the register.

you caught sight of your own reflection in the small security mirror above the counter. your dark circles were massive, your hair was a bit of a messy nest from the rain, and you looked completely exhausted. a wave of pure shame washed over you. of course he noticed, you looked like an absolute zombie. “is it that obvious?” you let out an awkward laugh, placing your coffee on the counter. “midterms are killing me. i've been a bit of a mess lately.”

“clearly.” sunghoon said softly, repeating the exact word from the hallway last week. he placed his drink next to yours. “i’ll get it.”

you blinked, turning to look at him in surprise. “what? no, it’s fine, you don’t have to-”

“it’s just a coffee, y/n.” he interrupted quietly, pulling out his wallet. his dark eyes locked onto yours, completely unbothered by your protest. your mouth shut instantly, your face bursting into a furious flush. hearing your name leave his lips in that deep tone made a strange flutter erupt in the pit of your stomach. you stood there in silence as he paid the cashier, your mind a chaotic blur of confusion.

he handed you your iced coffee, his freezing fingers brushing against yours for a brief second. “try to actually get some sleep tonight.”

before you could even find your voice to say a proper thank you, he grabbed his umbrella, turned on his heel, and pushed open the glass door, disappearing out into the rain. you stood by the counter, clutching the cold plastic bottle to your chest, your heart refusing to slow down as his expensive scent lingered in the empty aisle.

you walked back to your dorm building in a complete daze, the cold rain splashing against your umbrella while your hands practically melted around the warm plastic bottle of iced coffee. your face still felt incredibly hot. you couldn't stop replaying the way sunghoon had looked down at you, the deep vibration of his voice when he said your name, and how effortlessly attractive he was even in a sketchy convenience store.

you are so pathetic, you scolded yourself, shaking your head as you slipped inside the warm lobby of your building. he was literally just being a decent human being, and you’re out here treating it like a romantic comedy. when you reached your floor and unlocked the door to your room, you were greeted by total silence. the messy piles of clothes on your roommate's bed and the faint, sweet smell of cheap body spray confirmed that she and her friends had already left for the club. you let out a relieved sigh, finally dropping your damp umbrella by the door and kicking off your shoes. the quiet was exactly what your frayed nerves needed.

you walked over to your bed, setting the iced coffee on your nightstand, and decided to change into some oversized sweatpants before hitting the textbooks. you reached down, grabbing the handle of your dresser to pull open the bottom drawer where you kept your pajamas. but as your fingers wrapped around the metal handle, you froze. the drawer directly above it — your underwear drawer — was cracked open, just about an inch.

your heart gave an uncomfortable twitch in your chest. you stood perfectly still, staring at the small gap in the dark wood. you were incredibly particular about this specific drawer because the left track was slightly broken. if you didn't slam it completely shut, it would slide back out and get stuck. you distinctly remembered shoving it closed properly this morning before rushing out to your lecture.

“did she borrow something?” you mumbled to yourself, your voice sounding thin in the empty room.

you slowly reached up and pulled the drawer open the rest of the way, your eyes scanning the neat rows of fabric. nothing looked explicitly missing at a first glance, but as you reached in to shift a stack of bralettes, a sudden scent hit your nose. it was faint, incredibly subtle. but it was entirely distinct. the crisp smell of rain mixed with that expensive, clean laundry detergent. your breath hitched, your heart instantly jumping straight into your throat. the scent was exactly the same as the one lingering on your own jacket right now. the one from the quad. the one from the convenience store.

you backed away from the dresser, your legs feeling a bit like jelly as you stared at the open drawer. someone was in here, a terrifying voice whispered in the back of your mind. someone was touching your things. but then, the familiar weight of your own lifelong anxiety forcefully took the wheel. you pressed the palms of your hands against your eyes, letting out a frustrated breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob. stop it. stop it, y/n. you are literally losing your mind. you forced yourself to think logically, desperately grasping for any excuse to stop the room from spinning.

you had just spent ten minutes standing less than a foot away from sunghoon in a cramped convenience store aisle. his shoulder had brushed yours. he had handed you a bottle. obviously, that strong laundry detergent scent had rubbed off onto your hands, or your sleeves, or your hair. and now, because you were completely exhausted and hyper-fixated on him, your brain was literally projecting his scent onto a random piece of furniture.

as for the drawer being open? your roommate probably needed a pair of socks or a crop top before going to the club and hadn't closed it properly. she was always messy, always rushing. it made perfect sense.

“you're completely insane.” you whispered into the quiet room, a wave of intense shame washing over you as you rubbed your burning cheeks. you felt so incredibly stupid for letting your paranoid thoughts twist a messy roommate and a strong cologne into a literal horror movie scenario. shaking your head at your own ridiculousness, you slammed the drawer shut, forcing yourself to sit down at your desk and open your laptop. you were determined to bury yourself in your essay and forget about this.

you reached into your backpack to pull out your sociology notebook, flipping it open to a fresh page to start outlining your study guide. but as the heavy cover fell open, your fingers froze entirely over the paper.

tucked neatly between the first two pages was a small, glossy photograph. your heart stopped. you slowly reached down, your fingers trembling as you picked it up and turned it over.

it was a picture of you.

you were sitting at the desk near the window in the university library, your face illuminated by the harsh white light of your laptop screen, completely focused on it. the photo had been taken from across the room, angled through the scattered students, capturing the tired expression you had been wearing just a few nights ago. right across the bottom of the glossy paper, written in neat, heavy black ink, was a single sentence:

you look much prettier when you're paying attention.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

you didn't sleep a single wink that night. the photograph sat face down at the very bottom of your desk drawer, hidden deep under a pile of old syllabi, but it felt like it was burning a hole right through the wood. your mind had spent hours sprinting in exhausting circles. a prank. it had to be a sick joke from one of your roommate's drunk friends who found your notebook. or maybe someone from the library found it on the floor and put it there. you desperately clung to those excuses, because the alternative — that someone had actually been inside your room, touching your things, breathing your air — was too overwhelming for your brain to fully accept.

by monday morning, the university campus felt less like a sanctuary and more like an open stage where you were completely exposed. every time a locker slammed or a floorboard creaked behind you, your body went rigid. you walked into the massive sociology lecture hall fifteen minutes early, intentionally sliding into a seat in the very last row, tucked into the darkest corner of the room. you kept your head down, your eyes anxiously scanning the wide doorway out of the corners of your eyes as the room slowly filled with students.

then, he walked in.

sunghoon was wearing a thick black sweater today, his hands casually shoved into his pockets as he stepped down the concrete aisle. your heart immediately did a summersault against your ribs. you completely stopped breathing, your fingers clenching around your pen so hard your knuckles turned white. is it him? you thought, a mix of suspicion and dread tightening your chest. no, stop it. he's just a guy who was nice to you. why would someone like him do something so twisted? you're just projecting because you're stressed.

he didn't sit in his usual row near the middle. instead, he walked further back, sliding into an empty seat just one row ahead of you, a few chairs to the left. he pulled out his black notebook, completely ignoring your existence.

for the first forty minutes of the lecture, you didn't hear a single word the professor said. you were entirely consumed by the back of sunghoon's head, watching the slight movement of his broad shoulders every time he took a note. you were being so quiet, keeping your posture completely still, absolutely convinced that you were hiding your suspicion perfectly.

but during a brief pause while the professor adjusted the projector screen, sunghoon didn't just lean back lazily like the other students. he deliberately turned his head over his shoulder. his eyes locked directly onto yours. your breath completely hitched, a cold shockwave of adrenaline freezing you in place. you wanted to look away, desperately needing to pretend you hadn't been staring, but his gaze was pinning you to your chair. he didn't smile, his face was a mask of unreadable calm. but then, his eyes slowly dropped down to your desk, landing directly on your hands — which were currently, visibly trembling.

a faint tilt of his head followed, his dark eyes flickering back up to meet yours with a terrifyingly sharp clarity. he knew. he knew you were watching him, and he knew exactly how rattled you were.

when the lecture finally ended, you scrambled to pack your things, your heart hammering so loudly you were sure the people next to you could hear it. you practically ran down the concrete steps toward the exit, needing to get out into the open air. but just as you pushed past the wooden doors into the noisy hallway, a tall figure easily stepped into your path, forcing you to stop abruptly to avoid crashing directly into his chest.

it was him. the sharp scent of expensive laundry detergent hit you like a physical wave, making your head spin. “you seem tense today, y/n.” sunghoon murmured, his deep voice slicing right through the loud chatter of the hallway. he was looking down at you, his posture completely relaxed, but his eyes were piercingly intense.

“i’m fine.” you breathed, your voice shaking slightly as you gripped your backpack straps like a shield. you forced yourself to meet his gaze, desperately searching his face for a flicker of guilt, a sign, anything to prove your theory. “just... didn't sleep well.”

sunghoon stepped a fraction closer, minimizing the space between you in the busy corridor until you could feel the subtle warmth radiating from his body. he tilted his head, his lips pulling into a soft murmur that made your blood run cold. “maybe you should pay closer attention to your thoughts.” he said softly, his dark eyes holding yours with a look that felt horribly intimate. “lack of sleep can make people see things that aren't there... or miss the things that are.”

before you could even process the double meaning behind his words, he gave you a small nod and walked right past you, his shoulder brushing against yours. you stood frozen in the middle of the crowded hallway, your heart hammering in your throat, trapped in the terrifying realization that whether you were crazy or not, sunghoon was playing a game you didn't even know the rules to.

you practically flew down the corridor, the loud chatter of shuffling students fading into a distant hum as your ears rang with pure adrenaline. you didn't stop walking until you reached the student union building, slipping into an isolated study alcove on the second floor that overlooked the campus courtyard. you collapsed into a vinyl booth, pressing your forehead against the cool laminate table, trying to force your erratic breathing to slow down. he was just being literal, you screamed at yourself internally, your fingers twisting into the fabric of your jeans. you literally told him you didn't sleep well. he was just making a completely normal comment about sleep deprivation. you are the one turning a basic conversation into a psychological thriller because your brain is fundamentally broken.

it made total sense. your lifelong anxiety had always made you hyper-vigilant, twisting everyday coincidences into personal threats. sunghoon was just an intimidating, slightly awkward guy who happened to share your classes and notice you were a zombie. he didn’t have a double meaning, he was just talking about sleep. you let out a shaky breath, actively forcing the tight knot in your chest to loosen. you were just tired.

the rest of the day passed in a blur of hyper-vigilance. you couldn't focus on any of your remaining tasks, your eyes constantly darting to the exits of every room you entered, your ears straining for the sound of rhythmic footsteps. by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, replacing the gray afternoon with a pitch black, rainy night, you practically ran back to your dorm building. you needed the safety of your own four walls. you needed to lock the door and pretend the rest of the world didn't exist.

when you reached your floor, you pulled out your phone and saw a text from your roommate.

roomie: staying at sarah’s tonight, don't wait up!

a small wave of relief washed over you, mixed with a deeper sense of isolation. you unlocked the door, stepping into the quiet room. the only illumination came from the orange glow of the campus streetlamps filtering through the window blinds. you shut the door behind you, letting out a long breath, and reached for the light switch.

“you really should start locking your door when you leave, y/n.” the velvety voice came from the shadows near your desk. your entire body went dead cold. a sharp gasp caught in your throat, your hand freezing against the wall before you could flip the switch.

it was him.

sunghoon was still wearing the thick black sweater, his dark hair a little messy, casting the small space in his imposing shadow. he was sitting in your desk chair, he wasn’t lurking. he was just leaning back comfortably, casually flipping through a thick sociology textbook he held in his lap. he looked completely at ease, like he belonged there, his long legs stretched out across the small rug.

“w-what? what are you doing here? h-how did you get in?” the words left your mouth in a high-pitched rush. your back immediately hit the door behind you, your hand still gripping the doorknob. a spike of pure adrenaline turned your limbs to ice.

sunghoon slowly closed the textbook and set it neatly on your desk. he looked up at you, his dark eyes entirely calm, devoid of any malice or panic. “your roommate was walking out right when i got to the floor.” he explained softly, his deep voice incredibly level. “i told her i wanted to ask you some things about our last shared lecture. she said the door was unlocked anyway and that i could wait for you in here. she told me she wasn't coming back tonight.”

your mind raced, trying to find the lie, but it sounded completely plausible. your roommate was notoriously careless with locking up, and she loved playing matchmaker. she probably thought she was doing you a favor. “okay.” you breathed, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your voice. you felt an overwhelming urge to throw up. even if it was a misunderstanding, the sight of him sitting in your private space, right next to the drawer where your underwear had gone missing, made your skin crawl with visceral terror. “okay, well... but right now is not a great moment. you need to leave now. it’s really late.”

sunghoon didn’t move. he didn’t apologize and he didn't reach for his jacket. he just stared at you, his head tilted slightly to the side, analyzing the frantic rise and fall of your chest. “you’re shaking, y/n.” he murmured.

“sunghoon, please. just get out.” you said, your voice cracking with a mix of fear and frustration. you turned to grab the doorknob, intending to pull the door back open, to force the boundary between him and your space.

before your fingers could even wrap around the metal, he stood up. his sudden movement made you freeze. he was so much taller than you realized, his broad shoulders completely cutting off your view of the rest of the room. he took two unhurried steps forward, closing the distance until he was standing directly in front of you. the scent of him — that crisp, cool rain and the intoxicatingly clean laundry detergent — flooded your senses, clouding your brain.

“why are you so desperate to get rid of me?” he asked quietly. his voice wasn't threatening. it was dangerously soft, carrying a low vibration that seemed to thrum straight through the floorboards and into the soles of your feet.

“because you shouldn't be here.” you whispered, pressing yourself flat against the hard wood of the door. your heart was beating so fast against your ribs you were certain he could see it through your shirt. you wanted to push him away, to scream at him to back off, but the suffocating weight of his presence left you entirely paralyzed.

sunghoon leaned down slightly, his face stopping just inches from yours. his dark eyes scanned your features with a piercing intensity, tracking the erratic flutter of your eyelashes, the way your lips parted as you exhaled a shaky breath. he lifted a hand, his pale fingers resting flat against the door right next to your cheek, effectively trapping you in the tiny space between his body and the wood. he didn't touch you, but he was so close you could feel the radiating warmth of his skin, a stark contrast to the icy dread pooling in your stomach.

“you’ve been watching me for weeks, basically.” he murmured, his gaze dropping to your mouth, his voice dropping an octave lower, becoming thick and heavy. “in the library, in the auditorium, in the halls. you think about me just as much as i think about you. so why are you pretending you want me to leave?”

“i’m not pretending.” you choked out, but the words felt empty, entirely stripped of their gravity. “i’ll call for help if you don’t leave right now.”

sunghoon didn’t flinch at the threat. instead, a horrible silence stretched between you, broken only by the steady drumming of the rain against the windowpane. his eyes remained locked onto yours, completely unbothered, watching the frantic rise and fall of your chest. then, a slow, mocking smile pulled at the corner of his lips. it wasn't a warm expression, it was sharp, humored by your sheer desperation.

“call for help?” he echoed softly, his voice an amused purr that vibrated directly against your skin. “with what? your hands are shaking so badly you could barely hold your keys. who are you going to call, y/n? your roommate who gladly let me in? the campus security who will see a guy asking sociology questions to a girl who looks like she’s having one of her usual panic attacks?” a cold sweat broke out down your spine. he was right, you looked like the crazy one. you always looked like the crazy one, and he knew exactly how to use that against you. “you really think anyone would believe you?” he murmured, leaning a fraction closer until the tip of his nose almost brushed yours. his eyes danced with a sickening pleasure as he watched a single tear of pure frustration and fear slip down your cheek. he liked this. he liked knowing exactly how much control he had over your mind, how easily he could make your entire reality collapse. “you’ve spent the past few weeks telling yourself you're insane. if you told them someone was stealing your underwear or taking pictures of you in the library, they’d just think you needed to be medicated.”

you let out a choked sob, your hands rising instinctively to press against his broad chest to keep him back. your fingers bunched into the thick fabric of his black sweater, but it felt like trying to push a solid stone wall. he didn’t budge an inch. “why are you doing this?” you whispered, your voice completely broken. “why now? if you’ve been... if you’ve been watching me, why come in here now?”

sunghoon’s gaze softened into something heavily predatory, his eyes darkening as they tracked the movement of your trembling lips. he seemed to genuinely reflect on the question, his head tilting slightly as his thumb slowly rose, trailing the line of your jaw without a hint of hesitation.

“because you were getting boring just watching from afar.” he confessed quietly, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, forcing it open just a fraction. “for months, i was content just knowing your schedule. watching you sit in the front rows, watching you study until your eyes were bloodshot, taking pieces of you back to my room to keep me company. but lately... you’ve been looking at me.” he leaned down, his mouth hovering right beside your ear, his warm breath sending a conflicting shockwave of goosebumps down your neck. “that night in the quad, when you bumped into me... you looked so beautifully terrified. and then in the convenience store, when i bought you that coffee, your heart was beating so loud i could hear it from the register. i realized i don’t want to just watch you be anxious from across a lecture hall anymore, y/n.” he murmured, his voice dropping to a commanding growl that made your stomach drop. “i wanted to be the reason you’re shaking. i wanted to see what you look like when you finally realize you aren’t crazy.”

he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze thick with a dark desire that left you entirely breathless. the overwhelming terror in your chest was suddenly mixing with a dizzying heat. you hated him, you were completely repulsed by what he was doing. but the proximity, the absolute dominance of his frame pinning you to the door, was making an aching emptiness bloom in the pit of your stomach.

“look at you.” sunghoon whispered, his eyes glittering with malicious satisfaction as he felt the involuntary hitch in your breathing. his hand slid down from your jaw, his long fingers wrapping firmly around the front of your throat, not choking you, but holding you perfectly still. “you’re terrified out of your mind... but you aren’t pushing me away anymore.”

“f-fuck you, sunghoon.”

a low laugh rumbled in sunghoon’s chest at your words, the sound entirely devoid of any real offense. if anything, your sudden flash of venom only seemed to fuel the dark amusement dancing in his eyes. “if that’s what you want.” he murmured, his grip on your throat tightening just a fraction. not enough to restrict your air, but enough to ground you completely in the reality of how little power you had right then. his large palm felt incredibly warm against your skin, a stark contrast to his freezing demeanor outside. “i like that you still have a little bit of fight left in you, y/n. it makes this much more interesting.”

he leaned down, his lips brushing so close to yours that you could taste the mint on his breath, mixed with the ever-present scent of his cologne. your hands, still bunched into the fabric of his black sweater, trembled violently. “but let’s be honest.” he whispered, his thumb slowly tracing the frantic pulse jumping against his palm. “you don’t mean that. your mouth says one thing, but your body is telling me something completely different.” sunghoon’s gaze drifted down your face, taking in the furious flush on your cheeks and the helpless look in your eyes. his lips parted slightly, his expression shifting from mocking amusement to an unadulterated hunger. “you want me to touch you.” he stated flatly, his voice dropping to a demanding octave that resonated right through your bones. “you’ve been driving yourself crazy wondering what i wanted from you. now you know.”

without warning, he let go of your throat, his hand sliding down the front of your body, his long fingers trailing over the center of your chest, mapping the frantic rhythm of your heart before settling firmly at your waist. his grip was like iron, lifting you slightly until you were forced to tip your head back against the door just to look at him. “tell me i’m wrong.” he dared softly, his dark eyes burning into yours, completely trapping you in his gaze. he pressed his hips firmly against yours, letting you feel the hard, rigid length of his desire through his jeans. you let out a ruined whimper, your fingers tightening in his sweater, pulling him down to you.

sunghoon didn’t waste another second. he caught your lower lip between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to elicit a gasp from you, before his tongue slid into your mouth, claiming you in a bruising kiss. it was overwhelming, a suffocating force that left your brain completely short-circuiting. sunghoon’s tongue moved against yours with a deliberate rhythm, completely dominating the space of your mouth. you were terrified, your mind screaming at you that this was completely wrong. when he finally pulled back, a glistening strand of saliva connected your lips before breaking. you were gasping for air, your head resting heavily against the wood, your chest heaving against his broad chest.

sunghoon looked down at you, his eyes pitch-black, entirely consumed by a sick satisfaction. a mocking smirk spread across his lips as he watched you try to catch your breath. “you look so scared, so pathetic. like you’re about to cry, y/n.” he lifted his hand, his long fingers slowly wiping the moisture from your lower lip, his thumb pressing down hard enough to bruise. he let out a mocking laugh, the sound entirely devoid of warmth. “you hate me so much, don’t you? you’re absolutely terrified of what i’m doing to you.”

“s-sunghoon, please…” you choked out, your voice trembling so much it was barely audible. you wanted him to stop, you wanted to push him away.

“please what?” he mocked softly, tilting his head with a look of unbothered amusement. “please stop? or please hurry up?” without waiting for an answer, his hand slid down from your face, his palm dragging heavily over your stomach before slipping beneath the waistband of your oversized sweatpants. your breath caught violently in your throat, a ragged gasp escaping your lips as his freezing fingers made direct contact with the sensitive skin of your hip.

“you’re shaking so much.” sunghoon murmured, his eyes glittering with predatory pleasure as he felt the violent shudder that went through your entire body. his hand moved lower, his long fingers effortlessly tracking the radiating heat blooming between your thighs. tears kept rolling down your cheeks as you felt your body betraying you. “is it because you’re cold, y/n? or is it because you can’t handle how good it feels to finally have me touch you?” he hooked his fingers into the elastic of your underwear, slowly pulling the fabric down, exposing you to the cool air of the room. you let out a soft sob, your eyes fluttering shut as shame washed over you. you were completely exposed, completely at his mercy, and he was loving every single second of your terror.

“open your eyes, silly girl.” sunghoon commanded softly, his voice dropping into a rough growl that made your core throb with an agonizing ache. “look at me.” your eyelids trembled open, your tear-filled eyes meeting his unblinking gaze.

“good.” he whispered, his smirk widening just a fraction as his fingers slid directly into the damp heat between your legs. you let out a loud gasp, your hips involuntarily twitching forward against his hand. sunghoon’s eyes darkened completely as he felt how wet you already were for him. “so beautiful.” he mocked quietly, his fingers beginning to move inside you with a slow friction that made your knees completely buckle. if his iron grip wasn't holding your waist, you would have collapsed onto the floor. “so terrified, but so incredibly wet for the guy who’s ruining your life. tell me, y/n… what does it feel like to know your body completely belongs to me?”

“please… stop…” you said quietly between pants, trying to compose yourself in an attempt to seem as unaffected as possible.

the silence that followed didn't just feel empty, it felt heavy. outside, the steady drumming of the rain against the glass paning was the only anchor to reality. the light from the streetlamps sliced through the blinds, casting shadows across sunghoon’s face, obscuring his eyes in darkness while illuminating the sharp line of his jaw.

he didn't move. he didn't laugh. he simply stood there, his chest barely rising and falling against yours, an immovable weight pinning you to the wood of the door. “you think this is a game.” he murmured, his voice dropping into a register so quiet it was almost a ghost of a sound, yet it vibrated straight through your spine. “you think i just woke up one day, noticed you in a lecture, and decided to follow you home. you’re still trying to simplify it. you’re still trying to make it fit into a neat little box so your brain doesn't completely shatter.” he slowly lifted his other hand, his long fingers resting flat against the doorframe on the opposite side of your head as he kept rubbing slow, punishing circles around your clit.

“i know the exact layout of your mornings, y/n.” sunghoon whispered, leaning his head down until his lips were a mere breath away from your temple. “i know that when you’re stressed, you don’t just bite your lip. you also trace the seam of your thumb with your index finger, over and over, until the skin turns red. i know that you skip the third step on the northern staircase of the library because the floorboard creaks too loudly and you hate when people look up at you.” a cold dread dripped down your throat. those weren't things someone noticed by casually glancing across a room. those were things you didn't even realize you did. “i know you leave your desk lamp on when you go to the communal showers because you don’t like walking back into a completely dark room.” he continued, his tone carrying a serene certainty that made it infinitely worse. “and i know that on tuesdays, your roommate leaves at exactly 4:15 pm for her club meeting, leaving the room empty for precisely eighty-two minutes.”

your fingers, still tangled in the knit of his sweater, twitched involuntarily. your mind raced back through the weeks, trying to pinpoint every time you had walked back into your room and felt an inexplicable shift in the air. the times your chair was rotated an inch to the left. the times the air tag on your keys had glitched.

“the first time i used the spare key,” sunghoon murmured, his eyes locking onto yours in the dim light, his pupils completely dilated. “i didn't touch anything, i just sat at your desk. i opened one of your textbooks to the page you had bookmarked with a torn receipt, and i read the paragraphs you had highlighted. i wanted to see exactly what concepts your mind was processing. i wanted to know what you were learning, y/n.” he leaned a fraction closer, the fabric of his sweater brushing against the front of your shirt. “but then it gets quiet in here, too quiet. you start looking for pieces of yourself in the room, and you realize how easy it is to take them.” he whispered, his gaze dropping to your mouth. “the white lace set...” a breathless gasp escaped your lips, your heart performing an agonizing twist against your ribs. he didn't stop his fingers, causally speaking as you tried to stop the sounds that were uncontrollably leaving your mouth no matter how hard you tried to silence them.

"the one you assumed you just misplaced in the campus laundry room?” he let out a quiet chuckle that vibrated right through your bones. “it’s sitting under my pillow right now, y/n. i take it out every single night just to breathe in that sweet body spray you use. it smells so much better when it’s mixed with your skin.” he pulled back just enough to look down at you, his face a mask of terrifying calm, yet his eyes were burning with a dark satisfaction. he liked the fear. he thrived on the absolute vulnerability of your position, knowing that he had dismantled your safety piece by piece, month by month, until there was nothing left but this exact moment. "the black one... i mean, it's completely ruined now. i used it so much i couldn't get the stains out properly."

"y-you're fucking disgusting, sunghoon." your body unconsciously moved against him when you heard his words, trying to push him away with all your strength. you suddenly felt his bruising grip on your arm keeping you still, as his other hand moved faster inside you. you moaned louder, the pleasure being too present to ignore. "get off me."

“you’re entirely transparent to me, y/n.” he murmured, his long fingers now sliding down the side of your neck, his palm resting right over your collarbone, feeling the erratic thumping of your pulse beneath the skin. “every secret you think you have, i’ve already found it. every boundary you think you’re keeping... i crossed it weeks ago. so who are you trying to lie to?” his hand moved up towards your neck again, now fully pressing against it. you slowly felt the lack of oxygen catching up to you, making you squirm under him, pleading with your eyes for him to let go. he slowly removed his fingers from your wet cunt, which left you feeling too empty all of a sudden, a desperate whimper coming out of your mouth as a consequence. you were disgusted by both him and yourself.

“c-can’t breathe.” you said in a heavy voice, forcing the words to come out as you used the tiny amount of air that was left inside your lungs. he suddenly grabbed you by your neck completely, lifting your body from the ground while he choked you. “please!” you were utterly panicked at that point. were those really going to be your last moments? you suddenly felt like you hadn’t appreciated life enough, like you definitely needed more time.

he abruptly let your neck go, dropping you to the ground without a single care taken. your body crashed onto the floor, making you groan in pain out loud. you quickly tried to crawl past him as you regained your bearings, your vision swimming with bright spots. every breath felt raw and uneven, your throat burning as air finally rushed back into your lungs. panic clawed at your chest, threatening to swallow you whole. but as your palms scraped against the floor and your heartbeat thundered in your ears, a cold realization settled over you. he wanted you terrified, he wanted you frozen. he wanted you too overwhelmed to think. your fingers closed around the leg of your desk chair as you forced yourself upright. the room tilted violently for a second before steadying, but sunghoon hadn't moved, he was watching you. carefully, expectantly, like he was waiting to see what you would do next.

“you still think there’s a version of this where you wake up tomorrow and it was all just a nightmare.” sunghoon whispered, his voice dropping into a low hum. “on november fourth, you bought a lavender scented pillow mist.” he murmured, his eyes tracking the erratic flutter of your eyelashes in the dark. “you used it twice, then you hid it behind your skincare bottles because you thought the smell was too strong. i know that because when i stay in here while you’re at your evening seminars, i open your cabinet. i touch the things you touch. i want to know the exact texture of your life when i’m not in the room.” your throat clicked as you tried to swallow, a fresh tear spilling over your lower lid and tracking down your jaw. the obsessive scale of it was dizzying. he hadn't just glanced at your room, he had cataloged it. he had studied you like a text.

“and your laptop,” he continued, a faint tilt of his head accompanying the words. “you keep a sticky note over the webcam. you think it protects you, silly bunny. but you leave your microphone permissions open on your school tablet. when you study late at night, i sit in my apartment with my headphones on, just listening to the sound of your pen scratching against the paper. i know exactly how many times you sigh when you can’t understand a statistics formula.” sunghoon took slow steps towards you, quickly making you feel trapped again between him and your desk. “you’ve been lonely for so long, pretty. you’ve spent months wondering if anyone actually sees you. i see you.” he murmured into the dark, his voice thick with a terrifying hunger that unexpectedly made your core throb with an embarassing emptiness. “i see every single part of you. and i’m never going to look away.”

"s-sunghoon, please. let's talk about this. this is not healthy, this is not how it should ever happen. we can… we can figure it out, okay? please?" you begged, your voice breaking as another wave of tears tracked down your cheeks.

sunghoon suddenly crossed the rug without making a sound, a predatory glide that had him standing right in front of you before your brain could even process the movement. "you know i've also seen what pleasures you, right dear? i know you like it when someone else takes control, darling. you don't need to hide it." he leaned down, his lips grazing the corner of your mouth, tasting the salt of your tears before his tongue lazily swiped across your bottom lip. "every desperate search, every romance book you've read. i know that's not keeping you satisfied enough." his palm suddenly cupped the lower half of your face, his thumb and fingers pressing hard into your cheeks, squeezing just enough to force your lips to part. "i have to be the one who makes those fantasies come true, okay?" he lowered his head again, directly whispering into your ear now. "i'm going to fuck you the way you've been wanting to. i'm going to fuck you like no one else ever will, mmh?" without a word of warning, his hand moved in a sudden blur. the loud crack of his palm against your cheek echoed through the quiet room, cutting off the tension instantly. the blow was deliberate and precise. as your face stung from the impact, the absolute coldness behind the action became instantly clear — there was no anger in his expression, only a terrifying assertion of control.

"s-sunghoon!" for a second, everything went entirely still. the sound of the rain outside vanished, replaced by a high-pitched ringing in your ears. your eyes flew wide, staring blankly at the dark corner of the room as heat bloomed across your cheek, making your skin throb. you stayed frozen like that, your neck stiff, completely paralyzed by the sheer shock of what had just happened.

"go on your knees, y/n." he didn't raise his voice. instead, the words left his mouth in a completely level cadence that made the air in the room feel instantly heavier. his gaze remained entirely steady as he gave the quiet directive.

"what?! no! what are you-"

"you like being forced that much, huh?" before the protest could fully form in your throat, his hand clutched the back of your neck, guiding you downward. your balance vanished in an instant, your knees buckling beneath you and striking the rug with a thud. "don't worry bunny, i'll do it just for you."

the impact of the floor against your knees grounded you in a harsh reality, forcing you to look up at the person who had completely dismantled your safety. your breath came in shallow stutters as your eyes tracked up the long line of his sweater to his face. locked in a state of pure panic, your gaze searched his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but found only a consuming focus. being forced to look up at sunghoon like that made the power dynamic absolute — you were completely at his mercy, waiting for his next move. you saw him unbuckle his pants in rushed motions, as if he had been eager for this exact moment. he finally freed his leaking cock, immediately starting to stroke himself at a steady pace right in front of your face, using his pre cum. "open." sunghoon spoke as he slapped your cheek lightly with his own cock, making you feel so filthy you wanted to vomit. you helplessly obeyed, feeling like you didn't have many more options because of how completely wrecked you were at that point. "that’s it, my nasty girl. f-fuck…"

sunghoon didn’t give your throat time to adjust, fully introducing himself into your mouth in only a few seconds. every ounce of dignity was stripped away as you wept, the salt of your tears mingling with the slick moisture on your lips in a blur of pure panic. a gravelly sound — halfway between a chuckle and a satisfied groan — echoed from his chest as he looked down at the mess of your tears, thoroughly enjoying the control he held over you. he kept forcing himself in and out of your mouth, tangling his long fingers between your hair strands as a way to keep you anchored. "come on, use your hands, i know you know how to do it. do not play dumb with me, dear." a shiver ran down your spine at the nickname, but it wasn't from the cold. it was a thrill, a buried part of you that melted at the possessive tone in his voice. your breath hitched, your eyes widening as you realized that, on some twisted level, you liked it. the realization hit you like a second blow and horror twisted your stomach as you fought the pleasant hum vibrating in your veins. you were terrified of him, yet your own mind was betraying you, twisting his malice into something entirely different. you followed his orders, taking it at your own deliberate rhythm, suddenly determined to make him cum using both your hands and mouth. a low hiss escaped his lips as he closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, his knuckles whitening where he held your head as he fought to anchor his own rising intensity. "f-fucking slut... i knew you would take it so well."

threading his fingers firmly into your hair at the back of your head, he abruptly tilted your face up first, then used that leverage to pull your entire body upward. you had to rise to your feet just to stop the painful tug at your scalp, entirely at the mercy of his guiding hand. "i need to be inside you." his arms banded around you, crushing your chest flush against his as he lifted you off your feet. it wasn't a romantic carry, it was a desperate claiming. he moved toward the bed with blind focus, his grip almost bruising in its intensity, acting as if you were his only relief. a guttural groan ripped from his chest, a sound so raw it completely shattered his composed facade. it wasn't a sound of control, it was the sound of a man who had been starving.

his eyes were dark and feverish as he leaned over you, his chest heaving. "do you know how much i've thought about this? h-how many times i've fucked my fist with your panties? how many times i've done it in this exact bedroom while you were gone? mmh?" the final hum was an impatient push, demanding that you acknowledge the terrifying reality that he had always been there. he caught your chin in a bruising grip, refusing to let you look away from the pitch-black intensity of his stare. "tell me you don't like that i know every dirty secret you have. you can be yourself with me. i know everything, y/n."

"s-sunghoon." you couldn't help but whimper at the feeling of his body over yours, betraying yourself in the process. he pulled your pants down completely, wasting no time to put his cock inside you. you screamed out loud as he quickly stretched your walls in a rushed thrust, giving you no time to adjust. he slammed into you so hard it made you see stars, feeling a dizzying wave of disorientation wash over you as your thoughts scattered and the world around you blurred at the edges.

"i knew you would like it. y-you... fuck!" his hips moved forward with a bruising force, his words faltering for a brief moment. "you act so innocent. you keep pretending you don't like the thrill of it, how i have full control over you." he kept his rhythm steady, his movements remaining controlled as his hips snapped against your own without a stop. the relentless pace offered absolutely no room to breathe, let alone think. every deliberate snap of his hips sent a shameful jolt of pleasure straight to your core, melting the last of your resistance. your hands, previously frozen in fear, blindly grasped at the tangled bedsheets, your knuckles turning white as your body involuntarily arched upward, completely betraying you as it sought to match his rhythm.

without warning, the bruising thrusts stopped, and he pulled away completely. the sudden absence of his weight and fullness left a hollow void that felt impossibly cold. stripped of the overwhelming physical sensation, reality came crashing back down on you. lying there completely exposed, shivering, and hyper-aware of how thoroughly your body had been enjoying his control, a deep sense of shame swallowed you whole. you couldn't even bring yourself to look at him, mortified by the needy sounds that had just been leaving your lips. "don't look so ashamed." he hushed, his thumb brushing over your trembling lower lip. "this is exactly how it's supposed to be. i'm the only one who can make you feel this full, and i'm the only one who can leave you aching like this when i stop. understand?"

he hovered just out of reach, letting you suffer in the cold air. "you feel so empty, don't you?" he whispered, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. "tell me how much you hate it. beg me to fill it back up, and maybe i will."

you clamped your swollen lips shut, refusing to give him the twisted satisfaction he was starving for. turning your flushed face sharply away from his looming gaze, you grabbed fistfuls of the tangled bedsheets to physically stop your own hands from reaching out to him. "no." you finally forced out, the single word brittle and unconvincing.

his hand suddenly snapped out, his large fingers clamping around your jaw. with a ruthless twist of his wrist, he jerked your face back toward him. the sudden movement snapped your eyes wide open, but instead of letting you look up at his face, he forced your chin down slightly, making you look directly at the empty inches between your hips and his. a low chuckle vibrated in his chest, an amused sound that made your stomach drop. his thumb stroked over the frantic pulse jumping beneath your jawline, mocking your panic. "look at me when you lie, bunny." he murmured, his voice a smooth purr that washed right over your shivering skin.

he tilted your face back up to meet his gaze. he looked completely unbothered by your pathetic attempt at rebellion. he knew exactly what he was doing. he shifted his weight forward just a fraction — close enough that you could feel the radiating heat of his body, but refusing to bridge the gap, deliberately letting the cold air punish your aching core. "tell me you don’t want this." he taunted in a whisper, leaning down until his lips brushed against yours. he didn't kiss you, he just let the friction tease you. "look me in the eye, while your whole body shakes for me, and tell me you want me to leave."

you tried to hold his gaze, to maintain that last fragile shred of defiance, but the emptiness was too much. a violent shudder wracked your frame, as a needy sob tore from your throat. your pride shattered completely. unable to endure the torment of his hovering weight for another second, your hips arched upward on instinct, physically chasing the agonizing inches between you. "i-i can't." you cried softly, your knees falling wider apart as you blindly arched into his heat. "i can't, sunghoon… please." you hated yourself even as your trembling hands reached up, your fingers sinking desperately into the muscles of his back to pull him down. you were yielding to him entirely, your body silently screaming for him to finish what he started.

"pathetic." he whispered, the word sharp and dripping with mockery. he leaned down, his breath ghosting over your tear-stained cheek. "such a stupid girl." and then, without another second of warning, he drove his hips forward, burying himself fully inside you in one ruthless plunge. your breath was knocked completely from your lungs. a humiliating sob of pure relief tore from your throat, your nails instantly sinking back into his shoulders as his relentless rhythm began all over again.

the jarring impact reverberated through your entire frame, pushing you deeper and deeper into the mattress with every thrust. you bit down so hard on your swollen lower lip that you tasted copper, desperately trying to trap the whimpers bubbling in your throat. it was useless. the inescapable friction forced a broken gasp past your teeth, the sound instantly swallowed by the slapping of skin against skin. "there it is." sunghoon sneered, his voice dropping into a cruel rasp right by your ear. his fingers suddenly tangled in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat. "listen to yourself. you played so hard to get, and now you're taking it like a desperate slut. arching into the monster who broke into your room... you're so easy to ruin, aren't you?"

you were completely unanchored, drowning in a terrifying mix of shame and ecstasy. the tension coiling in your lower stomach pulled tight, demanding a release you were too weak to fight anymore. "sunghoon-" your voice cracked, his name tearing from your throat in a pleading wail that gave him the ultimate victory.

his calculated composure didn't last. the deeper he drove into you, the more his own rigid control began to fracture. the steady rhythm he had been using to torture you suddenly shattered, replaced by a feral urgency that knocked the remaining breath from your lungs. he wasn't just trying to humiliate you anymore, he was trying to consume you. he released his punishing grip on your hips, only to immediately cage your face between his sweat-slicked hands. his thumbs pressed bruisingly hard into your cheekbones, forcing your tear-filled eyes to lock with his blown out pupils. "mine." he grunted, the word no longer a taunt but a desperate claim as he pounded into you with more force. "you're going to break for me right here in your own bed. show me."

you couldn't hold back even if your life depended on it. the feral speed of his thrusts was completely dismantling you, turning your world into a blinding blur of friction and heat. but right as you felt the agonizing peak approaching, his hips hitched — just a fraction of a second — dragging out the torturous build-up until you felt delirious. he was purposely keeping you suspended on that edge, his thumbs wiping away the tears spilling from your eyes as he drove into you with a relentless depth. he wanted to feel every second of your mind completely short-circuiting. "please." you choked out, your nails digging bloody crescents into the skin of his wrists. "sunghoon, please. i can't-"

"break." he commanded, a deep snarl tearing from his throat.

and you did. the tension coiled in your lower stomach snapped, sending a white-hot shockwave of pleasure radiating through your entire nervous system. a high pitched cry ripped past your lips, your back bowing off the mattress as your inner walls spasmed and clenched desperately around him. the feeling of your body completely surrendering, milking him over the edge, was the final strike to his fractured control.

a ragged groan tore from his chest as he deeply slammed his hips forward one last time, burying himself as far inside you as physically possible. he pinned you completely flat beneath his heavy weight, crushing your chest against his as he buried his face deep in the crook of your neck. he surrendered entirely to his own climax, thick pulses of his release shooting deep inside you, completely flooding the aching emptiness he had taunted you with earlier. you were left trembling violently beneath him, completely shattered and mindless, sobbing into the silence of your bedroom as he held you down and filled you to the very brim.

"you’re mine." he panted, his voice a ragged vibration against your pulse point. he ground his hips flush against yours, making sure you felt every pulse of his release. "look at what you made me do. do you feel that? you're never going to be able to wash me out of you." the words sealed your fate like a physical brand. you stared blankly up at the ceiling, a fresh wave of hot tears spilling into your hairline as his weight anchored you to the bed. there was no running from him anymore. the monster was already inside.

—

“Jake.”

Your eyes glance up from the hot cocoa warming your hands to the sharp eyes of a boy already looking at you, maintaining his gaze even when his name is called. His piercing expression doesn’t change, but as you peer up at him, you can feel a flicker of want before you look away with warming cheeks. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the edges of his mouth lifting before he turns away.

“Jake.”

It’s odd to hear his name on it’s own like that, not when you’re used to hearing it roared by crowds through jampacked uni rinks; not when Sim Jaeyun is something bigger than himself already, a household name in premier league hockey and a constant on your university’s community forum. 

While he’s like a myth of sorts to the rest of the student body, he’s definitely very real as he sits in the living room of yours and Gawon’s shared apartment, quilt thrown over his legs that he’s claimed from years of movie nights and sleeping over. 

He’s got his hoodie pulled low, bleached hair falling over his eyes and cuffed sleeves pulled up to his elbows, crowded into the arm of the couch by your other friends talking animatedly next to him. He fiddles with the delicate silver chain around his wrist, a matching gift you got him and your brother in primary school. Because that’s what he is to you.

Before ice hockey, before uni, before amateur fame, Jake was your hometown friend. 

If you can call it that.

“Jake, dude, come back to earth.”

Jake shifts, turning to his left at your brother’s voice. 

Realizing you spaced out staring at his wrist, you snap out of it with a jolt and catch Jungwon’s expression next to you, a grin on his face as he responds to your dazed look with a raise of his eyebrows. 

It’s mid January, the bite of vicious winter air unable to get to you in the warmth of the studio apartment you lease during the semester. In here, it’s all warm tones and paper garlands — ones you made together with Gawon during the holidays — candle warmers brightening the living room as your friends litter the space, their bright chatter and the clink of mugs filling cozy, sepia air. Soft indie-pop plays from the old radio your parents gifted you and your brother Sunghoon when you had moved away for university, his grace in letting you have it lost on you (he bought himself a new speaker with cash he “borrowed” from your wallet during Christmas instead). 

If you could keep this moment ingrained in your soul forever, you’d do it in a heartbeat; tangerine light spills out from your little kitchenette, Gawon and Sunoo’s mischievous giggles ringing out as they crowd around the oven, the smell of burnt cinnamon cookies faint behind the chilli hot cocoa wafting up from next to you.

Jungwon has his head on your shoulder as he pulls a fleece blanket onto your lap, his plaid pajama-clad leg thrown lazily over yours. You can see Ni-ki and Jay in your peripheral vision thumbing through your DVD bin thoroughly as they hunch in front of your TV. 

Your friendship has been steady throughout all first three years of uni, nights made up of late movie theater runs and overcooked ramen, attempted snowboarding down empty city streets at 3am and all nighters pulled at the sauna to escape the claws of studying. 

If Jake and Sunghoon were at hockey practice, you’d all pile into Jay’s 2005 Hyundai and drive to the rink to watch them, making raunchy commentary that would have your brother slamming his stick against the plexiglass in playful warning. You all knew that they secretly liked it, Jungwon’s consistent “I’d let you slam me into the barricade” echoing out and drawing a flicker of a smile out from their coach before he would threaten to make you leave. He let you all back in every time.

It was the same during the weekends, when you and Ni-ki would be holed up in the practical arts and sculpture department of your university, hands covered in clay and silt and pottery glaze as you chiseled away at your individual term projects before the start of the week. Ni-ki’s r&b playlist drifting through the still, dusk-masked studio would be broken with the loud shouts from your friends as they filed in with snacks and bottled coffee from the vending machine, determined to give you a caffeinated sugar high to make it through the next few hours of work.

The eight of you have been consistent since the beginning, and the last thing you would ever want is to be the cause of your dependable friend group dynamic to change.

Your brother scrunches his nose at you from across the room, now squished into a loveseat definitely made for one with Jake. 

“Stop chewing in my ear, Won.”

At your soft voice, Jungwon’s eyes widen innocently before he stuffs another marshmallow in his mouth and leans in, noise amplifying.

“That’s nasty,” you can’t help but giggle at your friend, your eyes creasing as he sticks his tongue out immaturely.

Your gaze subconsciously trails to Jake again, his attention now on your brother as he throws an arm over the back of the couch to reach for the TV remote. The bottom of his hoodie rides up a bit, a sliver of his toned stomach visible before he’s flopping back into the couch again. You will yourself to look away while the back of your hand comes up to feel your cheek, startling when your skin is hot to the touch.

It was a night just like this that you realized you were hopelessly in love with Jake, more than just a friend should.

In retrospect, how could you not? He was out of every little girl’s dream future-husband-wish-list, perfect to a T in a way that you couldn’t even describe with words. 

His professors, his coach, his teammates would say that he didn’t have a bad bone in his body, always approaching others with kindness and raw honesty that made him easily likeable, even with players on rival teams. His classmates would say that he’s personable and too outgoing, attracting people everywhere during group projects and library sessions but still getting the work done on time without fail. Your parents would say that he’s the son they never had — sheepishly covering Sunghoon’s ears, of course — polite, smart, and dependable, from helping your mom carry the groceries to washing garden vegetables in the kitchen with your dad when all of you were home for break.

But it was his flaws that made you like him even more. What made Jake so loveable to you were the sides that only a few people got to see, deep and thoughtful underneath the first layer that you had to get through first.

You were there when his childhood dog passed away, trying his best not to cry and stay strong for his mom even when you and Sunghoon were bawling your eyes out on the sidewalk. You were there when he got drunk for the first time, staring with horror as he got on all fours on the dirty asphalt in the alley behind your local bar because standing up felt too “wavy.” You remember shivering in the cold in a short skirt, hands on your knees from laughing so hard as Sunghoon frantically called an older friend to come pick you up, scared that you’d get busted for being underage.

When everyone else was too busy, Jake would be the one who sat for hours as your “model” while you sketched, scolding him when he moved and exploding into fits of giggles when he would give up in the middle. He believed in your art more than you yourself did, and that meant everything to you — even now. He still sits on the plastic chair next to your work station in the sculpture studio until late at night, content with just humming to himself as you work quietly.

You were also there when Jake and Sunghoon got their official hockey gear for the first time in year five, their thrilled squeals ringing around your neighborhood as your parents set up a practice shooting pad in your front yard. Even though hockey wasn’t as mainstream as baseball or basketball at the time, it still meant everything to them.

It’s funny to see the same setup now when they come back home as big stars, bigger than your small town has ever seen. The same town with the same dingy rink that raised them to stardom, good enough until it was too small to hold them. 

The three of you grew up in a one-major-intersection, snow-filled sidewalk kinda town, lamp posts covered in taped flyers about high school hockey tournaments in obnoxious red type that were miraculously still there after years. 

Sunghoon and Jake were better friends than you and Jake were, but you’d still run from your job at your local province radio station to the ice rink at midnight with your school friends, just in time to catch the last of late night practices. Old 90’s tunes would crackle out of the janky speakers from the local radio, pre-queued by you so that the three of you could listen to your favorite songs if you timed it right.

Your friends and their teammates would go home after a bit, but you’d stay, fighting the cold to sit with your brother and Jake on the foam mats just off the ice. It was tradition, the hum of the zamboni behind you as you brought them warm, watered down coffee in styrofoam cups from the 24hr convenience store outside. They’d still be in their hockey uniforms, hair slick with sweat. 

Back then, no matter how annoying or gross you thought they were, you still looked up to them with all of the admiration you had in your young body.

You can still feel it now if you wanted to, the shared winters that fill your well-loved memories of growing up in a scuffed-up rink. Fresh ice, rough leather, and the smell of sweat that clung to your clothes long after leaving, even if you weren’t the one skating. In your hometown, ice hockey wasn’t just a sport. It was the thing that raised Park Sunghoon and Sim Jake, larger-than-life players whose jerseys were mass produced and worn by thousands across the country now. 

When Sunghoon was drafted into the Winter Olympics’ reserve team in high school — the youngest to ever be — you had watched from your small living room TV with your parents and Jake, all wide eyed and hands held in anticipation.

You can still remember the feeling of Jake’s thigh against yours on the carpet, his warm palms enveloping yours as he prayed. He was sniffling and recovering from a cold, but he still prayed with all his might that his best friend would make it big for the both of them.

He didn’t have to. A month later, Jake was chosen as the last reserve team member, and both were scouted for the top university’s first division ice hockey team. A year later, and your whole neighborhood was in your living room celebrating your own acceptance into the same school; this time, enrolled as a studio arts student.

You’re all older now, life is getting a little too real, and you realize that falling for him had to be inevitable. 

You knew Jake when he was just Jaeyun, not Yonsei’s resident golden boy with a disarming smile and his signature cobalt blue jersey, #15 stitched across its back. But you’ve never wanted him like the people shouting his name through crowded university rinks want him.

You want him like you did when you were neighbors and eight, building life-size igloos with rainbow-dyed ice blocks and jumping for hours on his frozen trampoline. Just matching mittens knit by his grandmother, building snowmen and chasing winter hares, and a whole lot of feelings to go around. Just the two of you and infinite time. 

Nostalgia will be the death of you.

As you sit in your living room now, with Jungwon’s head on your shoulder and Sunghoon’s side pressed against Jake’s, you come to the bitter realization that you might not ever get Jake the way you’ve always subconsciously yearned for. You don’t want to offset your own relationship with your brother — and especially with the rest of your friends — because once you cross that line, there's absolutely no coming back. You don’t ever want to have your friends choose a side, and what you have right now is too perfect to taint.

You’ve convinced yourself that you can live with being just friends, just like you always have.

But man, is it getting hard.

No one talks about how disorienting and weird it feels to come to the slow realization that you like someone who you're definitely not supposed to like, especially when you’ve spent your entire life as good friends. It’s disarming and you can’t help but feel icky when you look at him. You’re not supposed to want him like this, where your head pounds and you feel too warm everywhere.

Sometimes, though, you feel like his gaze lingers on you a little longer than the others too. In those moments you let yourself daydream a little, thinking about an alternate reality where he loves you just as loudly as you do in your head. Those moments get shattered though, especially when you remember where you are and who you’re with—

“—and why aren’t you getting lit right now, Jakey-bear,” Jay’s voice carries over the sound of a kitschy, low-budget horror film rolling on your TV, the glow from the screen flickering across his face as he messes with the buttons on the side. 

Jake’s eyes lazily rake across the room before they land on his friend. Snorting, he offers a small smile before holding up his cocoa-filled mug.

“I don’t drink the night before games. We’ve gone over this.”

Jay shakes his head, standing up before collapsing on the carpet next to Jake’s feet.

“If only the world knew how fucking lame you are,” he mutters, throwing an arm over his face. “Maybe I’d be a hockey star too.”

Sunghoon turns to look at his friend on the floor.

“What?”

“You know, ‘cause I have a brilliant sense of humor and a fabulous personality. God knew not to make me athletic. I’d be unstoppable,” he says, patting Jake on the ankle. “Good thing you’re cute though. Makes up for the fact that you’re a…” Jay pauses to hold an ‘L’ up to his forehead before taunting, “loser.”

“Fuck off,” Jake says with a grin, pushing Jay’s shoulder with his foot for good measure.

You tune out of their bickering as Gawon settles down next to you, poking your cheek with a pout before offering up a plate of cookies. 

“Sorry I left you for so long with these monsters,” she grimaces, glancing around at the living room in mock disgust at the scattered plates and empty beer cans. Jungwon peers at her from around you, frowning. “Not you though, Won. You’re my favorite.”

“I know,” he says smugly through a mouth full of cookie, hands already reaching for more. You look at your best friends in adoration, their smiles making you feel all warm and gooey inside.

It’s only when you turn your attention back to the TV that you catch bits of the conversation happening across the room, your brother’s loud voice dominating the movie playing.

“You better play your damn hardest tomorrow,” he emphasizes to Jake, nudging his shoulder. “There’s this hot hot girl from my stats class that’s been bugging me about you, you lucky bastard. And because I’m your best friend, I made her promise that she’d come over after the game for you if we win.”

Your heart falls out of your chest as you quietly look up at the two of them, catching onto the way Jake rolls his neck before slowly coming to look back at Sunghoon.

“And?” He says, albeit quietly.

“And? What do you mean ‘and?’” Sunghoon smirks, putting his hand on Jake's arm. “Don’t you want some good victory head? I heard she’s really good, knows how to go down—”

“Ugh, you freaks are disgusting," Sunoo laments from the kitchen, holding out a whisk to shake at the two of them. “Have some decorum, please.”

You’re used to your friends talking so casually about their sex lives, but the fact that it’s Jake is a whole different thing. You’ve heard stories, yeah, but nothing prepared you for how much it would hurt to hear after coming to terms with your own feelings.

You watch his reaction closely, his silence making you chew on your lip. It’s almost like he’s contemplating it. You can’t help the unwanted feeling of jealousy that bubbles up in you, your throat closing up as you look at your lap.

“Anyway,” your brother continues, “you definitely need it. You’ve been so tense recently.” 

You refuse to look at them, instead distracting yourself by pulling at a strand of Jungwon’s sweater next to you. You can feel Gawon’s eyes on you. 

She and Jungwon are the only ones who know about your feelings for Jake, their sharp senses catching on quick when they’d catch you staring at him more than you ever had. You had threatened them to promise never to tell after a particularly bad night, making them swear on their bloodline that Jake would never find out.  

“Should I send her our address?” Sunghoon prods.

It’s silent for a few moments, before Jake's next words make your heart sink further. 

“...yeah, I guess.”

Oh.

You feel a hand slide over your leg, Gawon’s rings cold against your skin as you look up at her.

She furrows your eyebrows, as if silently asking you if she should say something. Your eyes widen, shaking your head with a miniscule no. Don’t.

She tilts her head, as if questioning why? 

Jungwon looks between the two of you with furrowed eyebrows.

She’s about to open her mouth when Sunghoon’s voice rings out again. You snap your head back in the rest of your friends’ direction, brushing Gawon’s concerned hand off your leg.

“Are you swinging by tomorrow’s game, Rockstar?” He calls you by the nickname he’s had for you since childhood, throwing a piece of popcorn up before catching it in his mouth. “It’s gonna be against KU. It’ll be a big one.”

You feel your eyes betray you as they flit to Jake quickly, finding him already looking at you. 

“Uhh,” you start, looking at Jungwon nodding beside you for confirmation, “yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there.”

You start to get up to escape this feeling that’s creeping up your throat, but you’re stopped in your tracks by Gawon who gives you a look from beside you. You know that look. 

Raising her voice suspiciously loud, she glances at Jake before grabbing your arm. 

“Right, and who was that guy that you said was cute last time, Y/N? The top center for KU, right? He dm’ed one of my friends asking for your number, you know,” she starts, your eyes widening as you realize what she’s doing. She’s digging for a reaction from Jake.

You see Jake’s head tilt slightly, not fully acknowledging your conversation but still showing that he’s listening. Sunghoon, on the other hand, snaps his head around to give you a pointed glare. 

“The fuck? Who?”

“No one.” You reply quickly, glaring back.

“Bullshit. Tell me, Y/N.”

“No one,” you say at the same time Jungwon says “Heeseung,” his figure immediately shrinking when you shoot him a look that you usually reserve for your brother.

“You’re kidding,” your brother starts, pulling out his phone before searching for something — someone — rapidly. “I’m gonna get his ass. He’s trying to get to us through my sister? Who the fuck does he think he is?”

With a sigh, you sit back down and close your eyes. You can already feel a migraine forming.

Yeah, you had thought Heeseung was cute the last time your universities had played each other, but that was only to desperately distract yourself from thinking about Jake. You knew you shouldn’t have said anything to your friends.

“Don’t talk to him, Y/N, I’m putting my foot down as your brother. You are forbidden from talking to him,” Sunghoon continues, exasperated.

Ni-ki snorts from the corner of the room, speaking up from underneath a swath of blankets.

“What are we in, the fucking middle ages?” He grins before pointing at you. “Watch out Y/N, your brother’s gonna ride out on a horse tomorrow and demand a duel with KU’s center.” Gawon laughs out loud before Sunghoon throws a piece of popcorn at her. 

Tuning out Ni-ki and Sunghoon’s rising voices, you can’t help but notice the way Jake has seemingly clocked out of the conversation. He stares at the side of your face and then the ground when you give him a questioning glance. He doesn’t look back up after that, playing with his bracelet instead. The moment passes, and everything returning back to normal as your friends settle in around you. They pass drinks and food around, but you can’t help but overthink the entire conversation.

It’s still bothering you when you flop onto your bed an hour later, tired from talking. Everyone is still in the living room outside, but you need quiet space to think. 

You’re laying off the edge of the bed with your knees up, hair lifting from the cool wind seeping through a crack in your window, when your door creaks open. Blue light spills in from the hallway before a figure slips into your room, stopping before you.

You turn onto your stomach, your sleep shorts riding up, and shoot Jake a small smile as he settles at the foot of your bed. He doesn’t say anything; he simply reaches for the bulky hockey bag he’s had since secondary school, left in your room from coming straight from practice earlier. 

It’s a comfortable, full silence as you watch him from your position. He glances up every once in a while, careful hands wrapping the end of his hockey stick with new grip tape. He doesn’t speak for a long while, face pale from the moonlight and lip caught between his teeth like he always does when he’s focused. Long fingers loop around each other carefully as he lines the stick, finally putting it down after a few long minutes. You’ve watched him do this a million times, but it feels more intimate when he does it in your space.

You blink at him when he looks back up at you through his messy bangs, gaze full of something you can’t quite decipher yet.

His hands shake slightly from the chill in your room, so you silently offer him the fleece blanket from your bed. Instead, he gently pushes your hand away, climbing onto your bed before laying his head down next to you. 

Tucking his chin on top of your childhood plushie, he tilts his head to look at you. Faint chatter from outside seeps under the crack of your bedroom door, the soft crackling of a burning candle filling the silence. His eyes seem to sweep across the expanse of your room before landing back on you.

“Nervous?” You finally whisper, with no need to talk at normal volume when he’s this close. Your heart is racing out of your chest but you regulate your breathing the best you can. 

It's just Jake. You’ve had millions of talks like this before.

“Yeah,” he admits, shifting so that his hair isn’t in his eyes. The collar of his hoodie is loose in the position, his collarbones and a thin silver chain peeking out.

“Last game before recruiting season,” you continue, glancing down at the bandaid across his knuckles.

“Oh,” he sighs out. “Yeah, I guess.” He follows your gaze before tucking his hand under the plush.

“You’re gonna try to go pro for real?”

Jake pauses before grimacing, his dimple slightly showing itself before disappearing again.

“Yeah, if I can,” he says, your chest stuttering when he lets that smile that he reserves only for you take over his face. “Signing my soul away to the devil or whatever.”

You giggle, nudging his arm lightly.

“And you promise you’ll remember me when you end up playing in the national league, right?”

“You know I couldn’t forget you if I tried,” he reassures back, his voice heavy as if he means every word. He points at you, letting the tip of his index finger touch your shoulder. “And you can’t forget me when you’re some hotshot artist who sells paintings for more than my yearly rent.”

“Mm,” you tease, rolling onto your back, “maybe you’ll just have to buy one to see.”

“Consider me sold,” he murmurs back, tenderly staring at the side of your face.

You let your arms fall off the bed, stretching languidly before tucking your hair behind your ear. You wordlessly blink at him as he reaches out with a slight tremor in his hand, fixing a strand that’s blown into your eyes. His hand lingers for a second before he pulls away again, eyes fixed on yours with an unreadable expression.

It hurts to look at a face you’re so familiar with, one that’s been steadily by your side since you can remember. 

“I’ll always root for you, Jake,” you say softly, honestly bleeding into your words.

There’s much to be left unsaid, but some part of you feels like he understands with the way he just peers at you, dark eyes never leaving your face.

“I know,” he whispers back, gaze leaving yours to travel to the doorknob, where his old skate laces are tied around the brass handle. They then flick over to your windowsill, where dark, scuffed pucks are stacked up the wood. Just below it is his worn hockey bag, stick poking out to lean against your tall stack of old CDs. There’s remnants of him everywhere, and not just physically either. He’s part of your core memories, from all eras of your life, and there will always be bits and pieces of him in the way you speak and behave too. “I’ll see you in the crowd tomorrow, yeah?”

“Always.”

You couldn’t get rid of Jake if you tried.

—

Everyone in this part of the city knows three things for sure: winter never really ends at Mokdong collegiate rink, Friday nights are for Yonsei ice hockey, and cobalt blue is law. 

You’re wearing Jake’s worn out leather bomber with #15 stitched proudly across its back, your brother’s original faded jersey snug underneath. It smells like the both of them, woody and sweet as you lean back with your shoes up on the seat in front of you. Gawon leans over you to clip your hair with barrettes of the team color, sitting back with a satisfied hum after brushing your hair back. Jungwon bounces his leg up and down nervously from next to you, keeping an eye on the clock as he waits restlessly for the game to start.

The three if you are in your university’s home rink, chalk full as people still trickle in from all sides, pouring down the stands and settling in just before the teams skate out. It’s a blue ocean, university students and parents alike filling the seats. Bleeding dots of red can be seen infiltrating the side across from you, donning opposing team jerseys and KU colors. 

You’ve been here plenty of times, but the air feels different today. It’s electric and alive, an audible hum filling the space as remnants of chants echo around the rink. 

You can’t help but be nervous for your brother who’s most likely the first in line waiting to come out of the player tunnel as team captain. You know firsthand how hard he worked to get to where he is today, and tonight, there will be international scouts in the audience looking for the next big names in ice hockey. Your brother is already a local hero in skates, but going pro would seal his professional career for him. 

And of course, you can’t help but think of Jake, who’s probably second in line right behind Sunghoon as the center. You can sense his nerves already, the way he fiddles with his gear when he’s anxious and looks up to the heavens to remind himself of the things that keep him grounded. From years of following him and your brother around to their practices, you can bet with confidence that Jake has one hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder and the other on the cross around his neck right now. They’re the faces of the team, and that means the worries they carry can't show. 

As much as hockey is pure athleticism and skill, it’s also a game of ego. 

Playing a home game means the university’s pride is on the line, and the winner be damned if it isn’t them. You, Jungwon, and Gawon aren’t the only ones waiting in anticipation; much of the student body is also here, as well as half of the hearts of the city through live broadcasting. 

You can pretend you’re not just another fan, hands wrapped around an overpriced paper cup of hot coffee, but the second #15 hits the ice, your pulse will match the drum of the crowd’s. 

Gawon clenches your hand in anticipation as the lights of the arena start flashing, beams of blue and red circling the ice. The crowd erupts in animated cheers, Jungwon sliding to the edge of his seat so he can be closer to the plexiglass. The analog scoreboard resets with a click, displaying a blinking ‘00’ for both teams, and the large screens hanging from the ceiling of the rink switch to show the entrance of the player tunnel. 

And then — in all their glory — there they are. 

The notorious Yonsei men’s hockey team pours out of the tunnel with their easy grins and bright blue gear, skating a lap around the large rink before lining up across its expanse. You can’t help but let your mouth fall into a wordless “wow,” the view awing you no matter how many times you see it. 

Your eyes naturally find Jake by habit, your breath catching as you spot him gliding to his spot just meters away from where you’re sitting. 

He looks like a true celebrity from here, slipping his helmet off and ruffling the resulting wavy hair with a gloved hand. His skates skim the ice with quiet precision, cutting effortless lines across its surface. The cold makes his breath come out in pale clouds, but his face is composed with a kind of stillness that only comes from someone deeply comfortable in their body and their sport. His jersey hangs off his body prettily, stretching across broad shoulders that shift with every movement as he handles his hockey stick with years of experience, hand wound around the handle tightly.

Coming to a sharp hockey stop just short of the barrier, he sprays snow towards the reactive crowd before reaching down to wipe the excess off his blades. The metal and the white of his teeth glint under the fluorescent lights as he shoots the stands a charming smile, screams ringing out in immediate response. 

It makes you feel faint in the head. 

Shaking out his hair again, his eyes shine with determination as they rake over the seats. Pink dusts his nose and cheeks, stiff eyelashes a result of the arena’s chill. He finds your familiar face in the crowd easily and gives a small nod in acknowledgment, your friends waving back excitedly before you turn to Jungwon. 

“I’m so fucked,” you whisper, forehead falling against his shoulder as he shakes with laughter. 

You turn back to the ice as the opposing team skates out, Gawon hitting your leg repeatedly when she spots Heeseung in all his glory, his blinding smile easily recognizable through the grates of his helmet.

You don’t catch the way Jake looks down and tenses when Heeseung glances in your direction, throwing a smug look your way from across the arena, but Gawon sure does. She observes Jake quizzically, trying to figure him out from the stands like staring hard enough will make everything clear.

The striped refs throw up symbols with their hands as the lights dim, the sharp crack of sticks startling you as both teams hit the ice once in unison. Coaches and managers in suits stand off to the side of the penalty box, guiding most of the team as they skate over to the players’ bench.

The air tastes metallic as you snuggle into Jake’s jacket further, eyes following his figure as he moves towards the middle of the ice with Sunghoon flanking him. Their postures are relaxed but you can see how tightly they grip their hockey sticks, moving into the starting face-off position. The arena quiets down as the timer gets ready to drop, Heeseung and Jake turning to face each other as both of their teams’ respective centers. 

The referee crouches low between the circles, puck balanced on his fingertips and breath fogging the air as steadily as the arena lights flicker overhead. His skates are planted wide, knees bent, eyes flicking back and forth between the two. Measuring. Waiting.

Jake positions himself tensely, blade angled, stick laid flat to the ice, and knuckles wrapped tight in black tape under his gloves. The position of his shoulders gives him away, coiled and predatory as Sunghoon backs him up from outside the circle. His visor catches the glare of the lights, briefly obscuring his eyes, but when he tips his chin down you could see them; sharp and unblinking, locked directly onto Heeseung across from him.

It’s a waiting game. For a beat, the rink feels impossibly quiet, like live wire. The crowd stills.

Jake doesn’t move, just lets a slow breath drift past his mouthguard, eyes never leaving his opponent’s face.

The referee’s hand hovers.

Then, in a flash, the puck drops between them, and the stillness is shattered into motion.

Heeseung is quick but Jake’s quicker, dashing out to shoot the puck to his teammate who appears in his peripheral. They pass it back and forth with practiced ease, moving down the rink towards the visiting team’s goal and attacking zone, slapshots echoing across the arena as it bounces off of the dasher boards.

The first point passes in a flash as the puck gets shot around the rink, Yonsei taking the lead within the first fifteen minutes.

Tension rises as KU scores a match point in the second period, the score tied neatly. An hour passes and neither team scores a second point in the third period, which means the game is launched into sudden-death overtime. The coach whistles, signaling a line change, and the crowd watches with tight suspense as Jake skates back onto the ice with a shout from the team manager. His finger subconsciously rubs over the tape on his stick that he redid in your room the day before. 

You can hear Jungwon get serious from beside you, leaning back with a steep inhale.

“He better not mess this up,” he mutters under his breath. You turn to him, tilting your head. “ALIH scouts,” he explains, pointing across the rink to a group of people you had missed, their clipboards and sharp suits a stark contrast to those around them. “They’re watching.”

With a bated breath, the puck drops for the last time, and Jake chases it like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Blue jerseys swarm into the opposing defense zone as he skids behind the goal and straight towards it. 

What he doesn’t account for, however, is a figure who comes in hot from the opposite side. Heeseung barrels towards the edge of the rink, colliding straight into Jake as they both slam against the barrier in front of you. The whole thing rattles, a whistle slicing through the rink as he tries to shove the opposing center away to go after the puck.

The snow of ice spray is still glittering in the lights when the crowd erupts. The row of people in front of you bang on the plexiglass, egging on a potential fight like they always do in hockey culture. It’s something you’ve never gotten used to, but never have you seen Jake at the center of it. He’s always prided himself in keeping his anger in check, so when he turns around to bodycheck Heeseung, your friends look at each other in shock. You see your brother ready to interfere on the ice, pushing his visor up.

You don’t even have time to register what’s happening before you see a glove come off, hard fist against hard chest as their skates dig into the ice with fervor. You don’t see whose it is, just that Jake’s got a mean snarl on his face that he rarely shows.

The puck skids uselessly away as the game comes to a pause, teammates hovering nearby as the refs standby, not a single person interfering just yet. It’s rooted in the sport’s culture to let fights play out, which renders you speechless as you watch Jake get aggressively pushed down onto the ice. You let out a worried sound as you jump up, straining to see what’s happening.

“What the hell is your problem?” Heeseung grits out, teeth bared through a mouthguard. Jake doesn’t answer, jumping right back up to shove him back into the plexiglass in uncontrolled anger. The impact makes the sound rattle up into the rafters, jolting the crowd as they leer in excitement. The people around you lean forward as one, the noise swelling into something feral and hungry.

“Holy shit,” Jungwon exclaims, grabbing your arm. “Get him, Jake!”

“Jungwon what—” you exclaim back, looking around wildly in worry. “Oh my God, guys, he’s bleeding.”

A punch lands fast, from Heeseung this time. It’s violent and cracks against hard plastic as Jake’s head is snapped sideways, silent fury locked behind his eyes.

“Look at me,” he hisses, grabbing Jake’s jersey and yanking him close. “You don’t do that to me. Ever.”

The refs rush in then, bodies wedging between them and arms locked around waists to pull them apart. Jake brushes them off, skating off himself with undeniable rage in his clenched jaw and stormy eyes. You can see the red already blooming from behind the grating of his helmet, lip most likely nicked in the short brawl.

From the stands, all you can hear is your own heartbeat pounding in your ears as you sit back down in your seat with wide eyes. The crowd is still jittery from the fight, the air buzzing with chatter.

The two of them are dragged to opposite penalty boxes, separated by a strip of frozen blue. Even just sitting there, breaths ragged and cheeks’ split, they stare each other down.

The crowd roars as the game plays on, but your eyes are locked on Jake and his defeated figure. He’s slumped on the bench unmoving, eyes closed and head against the plastic board behind him. He breathes slowly now, chest rising in controlled increments as the match comes to an end with a draw.

It’s over.

They tied.

Somewhere in the noise, he looks up and finds your eyes in the mass of people. He holds your gaze for a moment before furrowing his eyebrows and dropping his head down.

It feels like you don’t move for a long time until Gawon jostles you, a hand on your shoulder as Jungwon stands up with a stretch. 

“I can’t believe he actually did that,” he chatters excitedly, hands waving around. “I’ve literally never seen Jake fight like that before. That was so hot, right Y/N-ie,” he adds with a smug grin pointed at you. You’re still at a loss for words, unable to tear your eyes away from Jake’s form. 

Gawon shushes Jungwon before shooting you a concerned look.

“We’re gonna go meet Sunghoon out back, maybe head to the bar. Are you gonna… do you wanna stay and wait for Jake?”

You feel your head nod, not even hearing yourself as you tell them to go ahead without you. All you can see is him, and the way that he doesn’t even seem to know that he’s bleeding as he sits on the bench alone. Sunghoon whispers something to him before heading to the locker room himself.

You sit with your knees up in your seat as the arena clears out, the few people lingering behind the ice paying him no mind. The lights have faded, the scoreboard shut off for the night. It’s a complete 180 from just twenty minutes ago when the game was at its height. You feel like you’re watching Jake quietly lose his mind, his eyes blank as he touches his lip with his fingers. They pull away bloody, but he doesn’t even flinch.

The only people left are some helpers shoveling away the excess snow off the ice, so you decide to get up and make your way towards Jake. The familiar chill of the rink seeps into your bones as you wrap his jacket around you tighter, coming to a stop next to the penalty box he’s trapped himself in.

Knocking on the glass once, you lean down to catch his attention.

“...Jake?” You call, offering what you hope is a comforting smile, even when your heart breaks at the sight of his bruised mouth and torn knuckles. “I’ll drive you home. C’mon.”

He finally lifts his head at your voice to look at you, eyes softening as they catch you in his jersey number. 

He nods slowly, letting you pull him out of his confinement and back onto solid ground, the added height from the blades of his skates making him tower over you as you lead him out of the rink.

—

You can never tell what he’s thinking, Jake’s normally clear eyes thick with something heavy that you can’t quite place. 

Neither of you have said a word since getting to his and Sunghoon’s shared apartment, the latter most likely getting black out drunk at this very moment. The silence is new to you, especially when you’re used to your brother filling it with his outloud-thoughts at every waking moment. You appreciate the fact that he’s not here to ruin this moment though, especially when you’re currently closer to Jake than you’ve ever been.

You’re standing snug between his legs as he sits sprawled on the living room couch, bending down so that you can gently apply ointment on his lips without it getting everywhere. One hand cradles his jaw while the other brushes the medicine on, his sharp intakes of air letting you know that it stings more than he lets on. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face, his eyelashes fluttering close with a grimace when you brush on another layer. His hands settle naturally on your hips — more so to keep him grounded than anything — his grip tight as you wipe away dried blood from his skin.

You chew mindlessly on your bottom lip in concentration, not even noticing until Jake reaches up to pull it from your teeth. His voice is hoarse as he speaks for the first time tonight. 

“Stop that,” he breaks the silence to scold you lightly, hand dropping back down when you still. “The skin will tear.”

“And look who’s talking,” you frown back, brushing a finger over the blooming bruise at the corner of his mouth. Even as pain flickers across his face, his gaze never drifts. He studies you from below, lids lowered, the heaviness in his eyes betraying how exhausted he really is.

His lips fall into a natural pout as you busy your hands, searching aimlessly for bandages on the coffee table behind you just to keep yourself from saying something you don’t mean. He’s so beautiful looking up at you like this, but thinking about his injuries and what caused them confuses you.

Your hands subconsciously tremble as you rip open the pack of bandages, Jake’s eyes on you as he leans back on the couch, legs spread wide. 

Hesitating, you ask the question that’s been running laps in your mind all evening. 

“Why did you do that? I’ve never seen you like that on the ice before,” you end up rambling, not accusing, just curious.

Jake stills. 

“...are you mad at me?” 

“Why would I be mad at you?” you muse, careful fingers gently lifting his right hand into yours. His fingers curl into your palm naturally, letting you brush over his knuckles before you begin to wrap gauze over them. His features soften as he observes the way you hold up his hand to inspect it for any missed injuries.

“I don’t know,” he admits, brows knit together in a shallow furrow.

You pause, dropping his hand before sighing.

“I was just worried, Jake.”

He lets a few moments pass before looking back up at you.

“Why were you worried?” He seems to hesitate before he whispers, as if fishing for a specific answer.

You say nothing, not sure if you can admit to him just yet why you care so much. You can’t even admit it fully to yourself. Biting your lip from saying something stupid in the heat of the moment, you toss the extra gauze behind you before sliding down onto the couch next to him.

He scans you for a moment. Realizing you’re not going to answer him, he reaches for a small metal tin on the table with shaky hands. He doesn’t prod further.

You can tell — through all these years of knowing him — when he begins to sink into one of his moods, the ones that make him turn to his vices to cope. It’s the way his eyes gloss over, unfocused as his mind drifts elsewhere. You saw it plenty when you were both eighteen and stupid, deep in the alley behind your local karaoke bar sharing a cig when the pressure of parents, school, and expectations got too much.

“You know, you’ve always been too good to me,” he mutters, voice low as he rolls a King Palm onto his open hand. Out of pure muscle memory, he sifts sativa in a line along his palm before packing it into a blunt. “...want a hit?” he whispers, almost like he’s ashamed of asking you to indulge in something that’s supposed to be his bad habit.

You’d usually chastise him lightly for smoking as an athlete, but you can tell he needs it tonight, the dimness in his eyes concerning you. 

You hesitate before nodding slightly, eyes in a trance as they follow his nimble fingers. You can physically feel your resolve crumble when he brings the cone to his lips, tongue darting out to slowly wet the edge of the rolling paper.

It takes everything in you to look away, hands furling and unfurling in your lap.

“I’m good to you because you deserve it, Jake. And don’t get used to this,” you admit, tucking your legs underneath you. You pause with a blink before admitting, “I’m only saying yes because it’s you.”

He swallows hard at your words, tension leaving his shoulders as he watches you. It’s as if he can see right through you, see your walls slowly crumble.

Holding a lighter up to his face, he lights the blunt with a sharp click before taking a deep drag, letting the warmth take over his body before blowing the smoke away from you. Color rises back into his cheeks as he holds it out for you to take. 

It’s been a while.

He must see the hesitation in your face because he pulls away suddenly, tilting his head like a puppy. His usual easy confidence seems to flicker. 

“Would it be better if… is it easier for you if I shotgun it?” He barely gets the words out without a stutter, eyes averting as your face burns at his suggestion. “To get a smoother high, maybe…” he tacks on with a mumble, like it changes anything he just said.

You stare back at him with wide eyes, mouth parting before slowly nodding.

“Maybe,” you peek at him before repeating yourself in a whisper. “I’d- I’d like that.”

His throat bobs like he’s holding himself back before scooting himself closer and bringing his hand up slowly to your face. You can sense his hesitancy, the way there’s a slight tremor in the movement. 

Your lungs stop working as his skin touches yours, fingers warm as they cup the side of your face gently. 

Both of you seem to pause, faces so close that you can see the way the space between his eyebrows creases, full lips just centimeters away from yours. The air feels warm and charged, your skin buzzing as he shifts to pull you in closer by the thigh. Strands of his wavy hair brush your forehead.

He braces an arm against the couch cushion before taking a long drag, eyelashes fluttering as he pauses before you. His eyes look different, like he’s fighting both something inwardly and the pull of the moment. They lower, betraying, and flicker to your mouth, lips pressed flat.

“Are you okay?” He asks so quietly that you almost don’t catch it, careful not to let any smoke out.

It only takes one nod from you before he leans forward in the slightest, coaxing your mouth open with his thumb before breathing out, letting it permeate your mouth.

“Breathe,” he talks you through it, letting his palm rest against your chest as it rises to feel the large inhale you take. “Let it go all the way.”

The smoke burns as it goes down, resulting in you coughing lightly as Jake moves to rub smooth circles into your back. His other hand falls from your jaw to your knee, bracing himself before taking another hit and letting the smoke curl its way up the ceiling. The smell clouds your senses, making your vision hazy as you let yourself relax into his side naturally.

His arm tightens around your back, a small smile making its way up his face — as if he can feel your eyes on him — as he continues to take long, sharp inhales. The tips of his finger drum against your waist for a moment before they tighten to pull you closer into him. 

“Again?”

“Mm,” you mumble in a daze, looking up with sparkling, wide eyes that take every last bit of his resolve. “Feels good.”

You don’t really know how you ended up in this position, with your body half in his arms, but you don’t complain. He doesn’t either.

Resting your head against his shoulder, he tilts your head back up to meet him halfway. He brushes your hair out of your face and behind your ear slowly, looking intently between your eyes before leaning down and blowing another bout of smoke into your mouth.

This time, your lips touch just a hair, his breath hot on yours. You jolt slightly.

Neither of you move away, scared to cross a line that’s been drawn since the first time you met him. 

He lets you inhale the smoke fully before starting to pull away.

Your hand comes up ever so slowly, shaking slightly, until your fingers make contact with his face. The space between his brows pinches when your thumb presses near the bruise on his mouth, then slowly smooths when he meets your eyes again.

Jake finds himself naturally leaning into your touch, a glimpse of his dimple appearing as his bottom lip gets caught between his teeth.

And when you see that, you decide you can’t take it any more. 

You’ve waited long enough.

You’re done being scared of consequences.

Threading a hand through his hair, you pull him down gently until his lips fully touch yours.

And then you’re kissing Sim Jaeyun. Your brother’s best friend. One of your best friends. And you don’t care, because this is the moment you’ve wanted more than anything, ever. 

And then he’s kissing you back. 

Jake doesn’t pull away like the fear in the back of your head thought he might.

It starts off sweet and short, chaste until he deepens the kiss slightly. After a few seconds, his eyes glaze over as he sits back to admire the way your lips glisten. 

A charged moment passes before his gaze turns dark, leaning in and invading your space once again. He captures your mouth even more intensely as he reaches out to cradle the back of your head, blunt forgotten to the side on an ash tray. His lips mold around yours, the pace escalating quickly like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. You can taste it on him, the bitter dregs of the sativa mixing into your saliva. 

His tongue darts out to drag against yours, taking advantage of your little gasps to deepen the kiss. Letting you melt into him, he nips and tugs at your lip gently with his teeth before licking it better. It’s hot and bothered and strained, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to let go after getting him like this. He unabashedly moans straight into your mouth, the sound shooting straight to your core as you whine against him.

“Jake—” you gasp into his mouth, hand on his chest to slow him down. 

He brushes your hand away, pulling you onto his lap so you can sit with your thighs around his waist — all without disconnecting his mouth from yours. Tilting his head, he lets your hands roam across the expanse of his chest before threading themselves back in his hair with a tug.

“Shit— Y/N,” he barely gets out, lips on yours again. “Keep doing that, baby.”

You can barely keep up with his pace, overcome with white hot pleasure that renders you momentarily incapable of thinking about anything else. You let out another gasp at hearing the way he calls you ‘baby,’ the name so unfamiliar to you that you almost feel tears sting the back of your eyes. It feels so right hearing them fall from his mouth.

Dropping your head into his neck, you lick a stripe up to his jaw and press wet kisses over his bruises. His hips immediately jerk in reaction, hands squeezing your waist as his head falls back over the edge of the couch. You’re in the middle of sucking a hickey into the skin next to the bulge of Adam's apple when he starts rambling, hand sneaking up under your tank to press against your stomach.

“Sweet, sweet girl,” he starts, taking a breath and moaning out loud when he sees the string of saliva that connects where your mouths part. “I’ve wanted this for so long, you don’t even know.”

“Jakey,” you mumble into his skin, voice breaking when his hand wanders up to cup you through your bra. Jake’s at war with himself, but he can’t fight desire, especially not when he can feel you shiver against him like you’ve never trusted someone more.

“Fuck, say that again f’me,” he curses before dragging your shirt up your stomach with his teeth, dipping just below to press kisses just below your chest with fervor. His nose presses against your skin as he inhales, mumbling about how he feels like he could stay in this position forever.

“Jakey please,” you whine, needy hands reaching out so that Jake can pull you to him again. “Need you. Bad.” 

He complies happily, groaning at the way you fit perfectly in his hands.

At some point, the pleasure gets too much and you find yourself rocking into him, head tucked into his neck as he sings praises into your ear.

“Shit baby, c’mere,” his hands can’t seem to keep still, dragging down your back to your thighs and back up to your face. “Take what you need from me.”

Your face burns as you lay the side of your face against his chest, his hand guiding your hips right against the bulge growing in his sweats. The other holds your head to him, making sure you’re comfortable before matching the pace of your rocking. 

“I’m all yours,” he whispers down at you, smiling when you cry out his name in response.

Your stomach seizes when you feel his hand start to creep under the waistband of your sweats, playing with the string before dipping under the elastic of your panties. You’re pressed flat against him, and feeling his arm creep against your stomach makes you feel things no man has made you feel before.

“Is this… is this okay?” He hesitates, pausing as he watches you carefully.

You nod against his chest rapidly, shutting your eyes when his pointer and middle finger finally push against your heat. You’re embarrassingly wet, the sound clearly audible as he begins to move.

“Oh baby,” he coos, resting his chin on top of your head as he starts to move his hand back and forth slowly, coating himself in your juices. “Someone’s needy, mm? Can’t believe you were hiding this from me…” he trails off, biting his lip.

You fail to hold back a moan, muffling yourself with his shirt and biting the fabric between your teeth. Jake chuckles as he feels the fabric get wet against his chest from your saliva, gently pulling it from you. Tears prick against your waterline at the pleasure. 

“Let me hear you fall apart, baby.”

You shake your head against him, babbling nonsense as his fingers get quicker, rolling your sensitive bud between his fingers before dipping into you. It feels like all the times you’ve pleasured yourself thinking of him mean nothing — the real thing isn’t even close to being compared. It’s ecstasy that you’ve never felt before, the second-hand high from earlier hitting you fully now. White appears at the edge of your vision, your breath catching as you fall against Jake.

The second he feels your thighs start to tremble around him, the pleasure in the pit of your stomach starting to build, he pushes two fingers into you slowly, spongy walls swallowing them right up. He sets a rhythm, coaxing you to ride his fingers while he kisses along the crown of your head. 

“There you go,” he whispers. “Just like that. Made for me, aren’t you?”

His fingers are cold as they curl inside of you, hitting that spot deep in you that you’ve never been able to reach yourself.

Jake’s jaw clenches as he watches you fall apart on his fingers, the sight of you coming undone unlike anything he’s ever seen before. His erection is almost painful at this point, and if you keep making those noises, he knows he’ll be ruining his pants in no time.

Your hips jerk, movements uncontrolled as the pleasure inside you builds quickly. You know you’re close when he drags his thumb against your puffy clit, pressing down before drawing shallow circles around it.

“Come on, baby. Let go for me.”

You shudder at his tone that’s dropped an octave lower, an obvious rasp in his voice from all the overstimulation. His fingers are coated in you, your saliva still on his skin. The pace of his fingers double, helping you chase your release as he leans down to press a messy kiss to your lips.

It’s finally when he thrusts up against the fabric of your pants that you shatter, coming apart with a broken moan as you bite his shoulder. Jake rocks you through it, helping you ride out your high with his fingers still inside of you. He doesn’t stop, continuing to push in and out until you push against his hand in protest.

“Jake,” you whine out, unable to say anything except his name as you slow your movements. His fingers slowly slip out of you, completely soaked before he brings them up to his mouth. His eyes burn into yours as he licks them clean, tongue circling around them before pushing against his tongue with a smile. You almost climax again at the sight, cheeks burning as you watch him hum around his own fingers.

“You were so good for me,” he praises.

You look down in embarrassment, not getting very far before he’s capturing your mouth in a searing kiss once again. You taste yourself on him this time, eyebrows furrowing at the taste of cum and weed. 

Jake doesn’t give you even a second to think before he’s pulling away again, adjusting himself in his sweats. You shift your hips to reveal a dark stain on the front of his grey sweats, gaping in awe when you realize that he came from the mere act of getting you off. Your movements had dragged his pants halfway down his hips, the band of his boxers completely out as he makes no move to fix them. He lifts his hips, manhandling you to sit almost against his stomach as he settles back into the couch, breathing heavily.

“Did you…?” you start, staring at the space when your bodies connect.

Jake turns his head to the side, the tips of his ears reddening.

“You did this to me,” he says with a pout, dragging a finger through the wetness that’s both a mix of yours and his. Poking his tongue into his cheek in mock annoyance, he squints up at you. “Little minx.”

You hover, letting your hand drag slowly over his bulge and down his leg as he hisses at the feeling.

His jaw drops when you slide to the ground before him, knees hitting the ground between his open legs. Looking up at him with innocent, blinking eyes, you tilt your head before tossing your hair to one side and getting comfy with your arms in his lap.

Jake thinks he can cum from the view alone, that pretty mouth pouting at him as you paw at his sweats. You pull at the strings, focused. His head swirls with warning sirens, closing his eyes as he thinks about all the things you’ve already done and what would happen if he took it further. 

Would Sunghoon murder him in cold blood? Probably.

You make noises of protest from the back of your throat when Jake gently takes both of your hands in his, pulling you up until he can press his nose against yours. You can see the internal conflict in his gaze, guilt flickering through him as he looks from your messy hair to your swollen lips.

“Want you in me…” you start, clumsily trying to pull out of his hold before falling forward as he tugs you into him.

Smoothing a hand over your hair, he shakes his head before wrapping his arms around you. 

“Not today, baby.”

You frown, suddenly overly conscious of everything. The way the strap of your tank is halfway down your shoulder, the way Jake’s still out of breath, the way you almost just went all the way with him. You seem to shrink, shifting out of his hold to sit back on your heels. The heat drains from your face, hands suddenly cold as you fold them together.

“Why? You don’t want me…?” You say quietly, almost like you don’t want him to hear you. Your heart drops, and it doesn’t help that he stays silent as your mind runs through all of the possibilities as to why. Does he regret it? Already?

…maybe his friendship with my brother is more important than this.

“What? No— what, that’s not—” he splutters, bewildered at the way you start to pull away. He can feel his chest stop as he watches your face fall, starting to turn away from him before he desperately reaches out to have you close again.

“Y/N, listen to me,” he says firmly, heart aching when you look back at him with confused eyes. “Listen to me before you jump to any conclusions. I know that head of yours.”

Your throat tightens, lashes lowered.

“There’s nothing I want more than you. All I’ve ever wanted is you, actually.”

Your mouth parts, surprised at the sincerity in his voice as he clasps your hands with a film shake. He sounds firm and sure, gaze determined as he confesses. He looks to the side, pausing.

“I hate that you’re doubting yourself because of me. And I know I’ve been terrible at showing it, my feelings towards— towards you. I know I’ve fumbled maybe a thousand times at telling you how much you mean to me, especially considering our friendship and your brother and our friends and all that— but I want this to be real, and I don’t want you to think this is just a heat of the moment thing. You mean much more to me than just this… and you deserve a love that’s patient,” Jake stares at you, the one that you only see when he feels like he’s won something worth fighting for. 

“I want to stop running away from my feelings, and I’m so sorry I let my fear get in the way of telling you this earlier. Can’t stop thinking about the time we could’ve had together if I just told you how I felt,” he shakes his head, a bittersweet taste on his tongue. “I’m sorry that you had to be the one to initiate something for me to be honest with you. I want to take it slowly with you, if you’d let me—”

“Jake—” you interrupt his chain of thoughts, putting a hand on his knee.

“—and instead of telling you, I would get jealous on my own and do stupid things like bodycheck Heeseung—like fuck, why did I even do that? Now he probably hates me too, oh god—”

“Jaeyun,” you say firmly, cupping your hand over his mouth to shut him up. He stares at you at the abruptness, lips twitching against your palm.

“Where did that come from?” You say softly, unable to hide your grin as giddiness overtakes you. “I— I’ve been the same way, silly. We’ve both been stupid.” You rest your chin on his knee, peering up at him. “Don’t apologize.”

His whole body seems to release all the tension that’s been building up, fingers carefully brushing the hair out of your face.

“God, how did I get this lucky,” he sighs out, throwing an arm over his forehead at your cute expression.

You giggle, overcome with the fact that Jake likes you. Jake likes you too.

“So you like me, huh,” you tease, scooting forward. Moonlight bounces off the side of your face as you shift, every tiny sound amplified: the wind rattling against the windows, the hum of the fridge, the soft shift of fabric when Jake leans forward. You can still feel where his hand had been on your waist, the ghost of his thumb at your jaw.

“Shut up,” he mumbles with a bashful smile, slightly mortified at how intently you’re looking at him. “Yeah. Badly.”

“And you want me— mmph!” you exclaim in surprise when Jake hooks his arm around your waist, his biceps flexing against you as he pulls you back into his lap. He spreads out on the couch, letting you curl comfortably in his chest with your face buried in his neck. The scent of cedar and bergamot orange clouds you, snuggling into him as he chuckles.

“Hm? What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought, baby.”

You’re squirming in his arms, trying to get away from his wandering hands when the front door clicks open with a beep. You jump, flinching as it creaks open. Jake doesn’t seem surprised. A head peeks through the crack before rolling his eyes at the scene before him.

“Get out of my apartment,” Sunghoon deadpans, kicking off his shoes, shimmying off his jacket and throwing it at the two of you. It hits you in the leg before falling to the ground. Tossing his keys and wallet onto the kitchen island, he grabs an apple off the counter before taking a bite and leaning his weight against it. Raising an eyebrow, he eyes the two of you.

You blink at him nervously, staring off into space somewhere between his shoulder and his wall. You hope Jake says something, because you sure aren’t. What if he gets mad? What if he hates this? What if—

Your brother must see the look on your face because he sighs, putting his apple down before gesturing vaguely at you. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Rockstar,” he snorts, pointing at Jake. “Bro’s been pining after you since we were like ten. This,” he looks pointedly between you and his best friend, “was gonna happen at some point.”

You whirl around to look at Jake, a dusty rose spreading over his cheeks as he glares at your brother.

“Really?” You ask in wonder, ignoring the sound of Sunghoon’s fake retching behind you.

“God, I hate love,” he continues in the background, fully ignored by you and Jake as the latter stammers his words at your attention.

“Yeah, our friends always say that I’m painfully obvious,” Jake confesses quietly, thumb rubbing circles against your leg.

“But… but what about earlier today?” You hesitate to ask, turning back to Sunghoon who’s now spinning himself around on a bar stool. “The girl from your stats class?”

“What?” your brother says absentmindedly, spinning himself once more before stopping with a snap. “Ohh, the girl from stats!”

“There was no girl… I— I wanted to make you jealous. It was so stupid,” Jake admits, his face heating up even more as Sunghoon bursts out into laughter behind you.

“Actually,” your brother starts, a smirk spreading across his face as he takes another bite of his apple. “She’s very real. And she also just sucked me off in the bathroom of the bar I came from, sooo,” he trails off, “I think the real winner tonight is me.”

“Holy TMI, dude,” Jake complains from under you, the timbre of his voice humming against your side. He covers your ears from Sunghoon’s crass mouth as you make a face at your brother, his laugh reaching you even with Jake’s hands protecting you.

“Anyway,” Sunghoon swings his legs off the stool, grabbing his phone before sneakily taking a picture of the two of you snuggled together on the couch. “Imma send this to Jungwon so he can stop blowing me up on Kakao. He’s been waiting for this since our first year, probably.”

You just sigh contently, happily pushing yourself into the warmth of Jake’s chest and relieved that you don’t have to hide your feelings anymore. The softness of his arms around you are no longer a daydream. The world shrinks to just this, the smell of him, the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric of his old hockey tee, the gentle press of his chin near your temple. His embrace is possessive and reverent, like you’re the most precious thing to him.

Your own breath finally slows.

For so long you’d been orbiting him — watching from across rooms, stealing glances, cataloging every laugh and look — and now, wrapped in his arms, that ache resolves into something quiet and full. You feel small in the best way, tucked against him, fitting into the hollow of his body. His hand moves absentmindedly along your side, curling into your skin and reminding you that this is very real.

There’s no more guilt humming at the edges of the moment, the pressures of facing your brother or telling your friends gone.

You finally have him.

“So sorry to interrupt,” Sunghoon’s voice bursts the moment, popping up in front of you with an exaggerated smile. “Love that this is happening. Super cute. Mom and dad will be thrilled, I bet.” He pauses, biting his pointer finger between his teeth before looking at the two of you with a pointed stare. “If you have sex on my couch though, different story. I’m shooting everyone in this room and then myself. Thanks.”

You gape at him as Jake mutters a smug “can’t promise I won’t try” from behind you, earning a hard smack on the arm.

“Joking, I’m joking, holy shit,” he chokes out, dodging to the side with you in his arms as your brother tries to land another hit. 

“You better be,” he says, eyes snapping down to the wet patch on the crotch of Jake’s pants. “‘Cuz that’s fucking nasty, man. I should’ve let Heeseung knock some sense into you while we were still on the ice.”

You groan in mortification, burying your face deeper into his chest like you could disappear into the fabric of his shirt. From above you, Jake lets out a low, amused breath, his arms tightening instinctively around you as you hide. You can feel his chest shake beneath your cheek as he looks up.

You let out a muffled whine against him.

Jake, infuriatingly, only smirks, chin resting lightly atop your head. “You only said she was off-limits, not the couch.”

“Jaeyun,” your brother warns, raising a hand at him.

“Okay, okay,” Jake chuckles, finally easing back just enough that you can peek out from behind him, cheeks burning.

Your brother’s expression softens when he sees your face. You’re mortified and flustered, but still fully in Jake’s arms.

He exhales. “You’re lucky I trust you more than any guy at this goddamn university.”

Jake’s laugh follows him down the hall, and his arms don’t loosen. If anything, he pulls you in a little closer. Not for show, but because he needs it.

“I know,” he looks down at you, determined.

“And for what it’s worth,” Sunghoon adds with a wicked smile, already turning toward his bedroom, “if you make her cry, you’re benched for the season, Sim.”

END.

—

NOTE. thank you for reading this very self-indulgent fic ‪‪❤︎‬ I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. pls leave any and all feedback, it always makes my day and helps improve my writing so so much! this was all solely fueled by my first college hockey game of the semester. ts was lit asf, i was so into it that i literally lost my voice the next day LMFAO [ i thought i'd share a small clip from the game, esp because of how much of this fic was inspired by the strong hockey culture where i grew up. for your viewing pleasure HAHA ]

xx, kiachiako

-

ordinary enough that you had your own pair of slippers sitting by the door of his apartment.

ordinary enough that people had stopped asking if you were dating because they figured if you weren’t by now, you never would be.

the joke is that it’s not ordinary at all. sunghoon wants to fuck your brains out.

- - - -

the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and before you could even knock, the apartment door swung open.

“you’re late.”

you stared at him. “it’s two minutes after i said i’d be here.”

he stepped aside with the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “exactly.”

warm air immediately wrapped around you as you slipped your shoes off, replacing them with the fuzzy gray slippers you’d accidentally claimed months ago.

“you still have these?” you asked, looking down at your feet.

he looked over his shoulder from the kitchen.

“you keep leaving them here.”

“because you keep inviting me over.”

“see? sounds like your fault.”

you rolled your eyes. “you’re impossible.”

“you still came.”

“…you said you ordered too much food.”

“i lied.”

“…what?”

he shrugged, completely unfazed. “i just wanted company.”

you blinked at him.

he laughed, one of those quiet laughs that only happened around people he was comfortable with, and suddenly you remembered why you’d dropped everything to come over in the first place. nights like these were rare now.

- - - - -

pizza boxes covered half the coffee table. the movie you’d supposedly agreed on had been paused three separate times because the two of you couldn’t stop talking over it.

“you’re legit missing the plot.”

“there wasn’t one.” he turns to you, smiling ear to to ear at how annoyed he was making you.

“there was.”

“okay.”

you pointed at the screen.

“what’s happening right now?”

sunghoon stared at it for a solid five seconds.

“…they’re…doing something.”

you burst into laughter. “exactly.”

“okay, so maybe i wasn’t paying attention.”

“because you kept talking.”

“you kept interrupting.”

you grabbed another fry from the box sitting suspiciously close to him— or at least you tried to. sunghoons hand darted out to stop you.

“absolutely not.”

“don’t be stingy.”

“those are mine.”

“you ordered enough for four people.”

“okay?”

“you’re unbelievable.”

he held the box just out of your reach, a smug grin spreading across his face.

you narrowed your eyes. “sunghoon.”

“yes?”

“it’s one fucking fry.”

he only smiled wider.

you launched the nearest pillow directly at his face.

it hit him with a muffled thump.

another pillow flew in your direction.

within seconds the movie had been completely forgotten.

the living room looked like a tornado had passed through it, cushions scattered across the floor while both of you tried to stop laughing.

you were still catching your breath when a loud crack of thunder echoed outside.

the room fell quiet as you and sunghoon flinched toward the windows.

rain pelted against the glass so hard it almost looked white, the wind whipping the trees outside back and forth.

“i thought it was only supposed to drizzle.”

“that’s what the weather app said.”

another flash of lightning lit up the dark apartment. “okay, maybe your weather app lied.”

you laughed, reaching for your phone. “let me check.”

“…um.” you looked up from your phone with wide eyes.

“what?”

“there’s a severe winter storm warning.”

he leaned over your shoulder to look at the screen, close enough that you could feel the warmth from his hoodie.

“avoid unnecessary travel,” he read. “damaging wind, flash flooding…”

“…well.”

“well,”

another crack of thunder shook the windows, making you instinctively glance outside. the parking lot was already shimmering beneath the rain.

you sighed. “i don’t think i should drive.”

“you definitely shouldn’t.”

he said it so quickly that you looked at him.

he cleared his throat. “…i mean,” his gaze shifted toward the window “it’s not safe.”

“yeah.” you nodded. a quiet silence settled between you. “…so.”

“..so.”

“i guess i’m stuck with you.”

the corner of his mouth tugged upward. “could be worse.”

“debatable.”

he scoffed. “wow.”

“i’m kidding.”

another flash of lightning illuminated the room. sunghoon rubbed the back of his neck.

“you can stay as long as you need.” his voice was quieter this time.

“seriously.”

you smiled. “thanks.”

for a second, neither of you looked away. until another deafening clap of thunder made you both jump.

- - - - -

you were halfway through the movie when another clap of thunder rattled the apartment.

the windows trembled ever so slightly. you tried not to react. really, you did. but your shoulders still tensed for just a second.

sunghoon noticed, of course he did. without saying anything, he reached forward and set the bowl of popcorn onto the coffee table.

“…c’mere.”

you looked at him.

“what?”

“you jump every time it thunders.”

you scoffed. “i do not.”

almost on cue, another low rumble echoed outside. your eyes flickered toward the window.

he raised an eyebrow.

“dont you dare.”

“i didn’t say anything.”

“you were going to.”

“maybe.”

you sighed dramatically. “you’re not real.”

you stared at him for another second before shuffling over with the world’s most exaggerated eye roll. “don’t make it weird.”

“wasn’t planning on it.”

you settled beside him, pulling your blanket over your lap again. there was still plenty of space between you. comfortable, normal, exactly how it had always been.

“better?” he asked quietly.

“yeah.”

he simply nodded and pressed play.

- - - - -

the only sounds were the rain tapping against the windows and the television playing so softly it had long since become background noise.

your eyes slowly blinked open. for a second, you couldn’t remember where you were.

then you felt the warm weight in between your legs, and your head flinched up to look around.

it was sunghoon. your leg was draped over him, your head was on his chest, and his arm was wrapped around your waist.

you had fallen asleep during the movie. and seemingly drifted closer to him throughout the night.

you rest your head back where it was, sleep pulling you back in, when sunghoon moves, pulling you back out of it.

you let out a frustrated sigh. not because you are tired, but because sunghoon is now pressing up against that sweet-spot that does things to you.

then, like without permission, your hips rolled forward against him and you let out a light wimper. you cursed at yourself in your head for taking the risk of waking sunghoon up, but dammit, it felt so good.

you look up at sunghoon through your lashes, crinkling your nose and trying to think about how weird this is. you shouldn’t be wet for your best friend— right?

abruptly, sunghoons hand adjusted itself on the small of your back.

he knew.

you flinched your head up sunghoon, who’s eyes were now open and already looking at you. he ran his knuckles down your cheek, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“that needy, huh?”

“oh my god,” you shuddered, burying your face in your hands. “m’ sorry.”

he chuckled, pulling you onto his lap and peeling your hands away from your face. “don’t be.”

a ragged trail of red runs over your cheeks as you open your mouth to say something, but sunghoon cuts off your words by tightening his grip on your thighs and thrusting you over the growing tent in his sweatpants.

“hoon-” you dig your nails into his shoulders, looking down out of embarrassment, but he tilts your head back up to meet his gaze.

“stop it.”

“stop what-?”

“being embarrassed,” he says, pressing his lips together. “i wanna hear you.”

he drags his hand under your hoodie— the hoodie you had no bra on under— partially because you’d always hoped this would happen when you visited sunghoons, but you would never admit that.

“can i take this off?”

you nod quickly, fidgeting with the hem of hoon’s tshirt.

“say it, y/n.” he voices gently. “i’m not gonna do something you don’t want me to.”

“yes,” you swallow loudly. “please.”

he lifts the hoodie off you, trying— and failing to hide his state of awe at the sight of your bare chest. “shit y/n.”

you lifted off of him to remove your shorts and panties in one swift motion, tossing them somewhere across the room while sunghoon discarded his shirt and sweatpants.

you lower yourself back down onto him, lining up your entrance with his cock that was now leaking.

the second you sat yourself down and put sunghoon inside you, his head threw back. “my god y/n.” you began to ride him, moving your hips up and down.

“nngh—fuck!” you rested your head on sunghoons shoulder, still pumping his cock— though he was assisting you by pulling you on and off, his hands sinking into your ass.

you were overwhelmed with pleasure. sunghoons dick was unlike any other you’d taken— it was gigantic.

you moaned loud picking up speed and riding him sloppily. wet skin-slapping sounds filled the air, your slick coating his shaft completely, dripping all over sunghoon.

he grunted lowly, his grip on your ass tightening as he watched your tits bounce with every movement. his eagerness to be inside of you that’s built up over the past 6 years works against him as you swallow him up and he lets out thick spurts of his cum inside you. “y/n— ahh- fuck!”

you cry out and dig your nails deeper in his back as you tip over the edge. “sunghoon—nngh,”

you slow down your pace and soon come to a stop, both you and sunghoon catching your breath and looking at each other.