Lee

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(He still doesn’t know what. It turns out that you were right, and it was so insignificant that he can’t even remember what was bothering him to this day.)

“I don’t know. Rejection. Failure—“

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “Yes, because Hajime Iwaizumi is known for failing.”

He furrowed his brows. “Don’t be mad that I’m nervous.”

“Scared, Haji.”

“I’m not—“

(You gave him a look and he shut his mouth.)

“So what?” he asked then, dropping his hands in his pockets. You never really knew why he was so good with you, why he talked so much — you never dared question it. “How do I get over it and just do it?”

You smile, shaking your head.

“You don’t get over it. You do it scared.”

“What?”

“Fake it ‘til ya make it, Haji.”

(Iwaizumi doesn’t remember what he did, but he knows he did it terrified; he did it well, too. Passed the test, won the game, cleared the hurdle, got the job. Whatever it was.)

Iwaizumi was sixteen when he lost all of his fear. He’s twenty-eight when it all comes crawling back.

By now, he’s more than a decade older with a bunch of fearlessness under his belt, from spiders put back outside to funny noises in the yard. He’s carding his fingers through your hair on the couch you both picked out, and he hasn’t been this scared in a really, really long time.

(Probably not since you told him that he just needed to do it.)

Iwaizumi is scared because, for the first time in the three months he’s been carrying your ring in his pocket, he really wants to fucking give it to you.

He’s always wanted to — no shit, it’s why he bought it — but tonight is the first time he wants to ask you. He doesn’t just want to picture it on your finger, he wants to feel it against his hand when he holds yours.

The same movie you’ve seen four times plays on the TV. You’re leaned right against him; your eyes are heavy, you’ve yawned a few times.

Half of him wants to do it, half of him knows it’s late.

It’s just — it’s you in his shirt, in his sweatpants, in his arms. He has been yours for way too long to not have done this sooner, but neither of you have ever been in a rush to do anything.

Until now, half past midnight on your long weekend and all he wants to do is plan a wedding.

Iwaizumi can’t even sit in his imagination for long, because soon enough you’re sitting up with a look of confusion and you’re lifting his hoodie up, putting a hand over his heart.

“What?” he says, half a breath and half a laugh.

You look … concerned. He can’t tell whether he thinks it’s cute or distressing. “You don’t feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“Hajime, your heart is racing.”

“Is it?” he asks. He sets his hand beside yours. “Nope, don’t feel it.”

You roll your eyes, yanking his sweater back down as you sit at his side. “Well, something is making you two steps away from arresting right here. Spill before I call an ambulance.”

“It’s nothing, seriously. Watch the movie, will you?”

“But I’m nosy, damnit. Don’t you know me at all?”

God, so fucking well. Somehow, not well enough. Tell me more. Tell me everything I already know.

“It’s nothing!”

“Hajime,” you say, and finally your voice is stern. “Whatever you want to say, you know I could never be mad at you for it.”

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath. The box in his pocket feels like it’s made of fucking lead.

“I—“

“Stop. It.”

(He does. He stands up instead.)

“Okay, wait,” you start again, “I didn’t mean leave.”

“Give me a second, damn,” he groans, dusting off his pants, checking it’s still there. Of course it’s still there, but if it wasn’t, this would be bad.

Iwaizumi knows you deserve a thousand flowers and a candle-lit beach, and maybe he’ll give you both. But he’s neck-deep and the water is rising; it’s now or within the next hour, really.

“Hey, are you alright? You’re pale,”

“I’m fine,” he reassures you. Iwaizumi kneels in front of the couch.

“Hajime,” you say again, face contorted in worry. “Seriously, are you—?”

You don’t just trail off, you jump off the road.

In one of his hands is a box. A small one, fitting for a ring. His other hand rests on your knee.

“Are you—“

“—dead serious? Yeah,” he says, sounding way less strong than he looks. “I am.”

He opens the little box, showing you what’s inside. It’s in your colour, a pretty diamond glistening beneath the warm light of your table lamp and the movie. You swear you even mentioned that shape once, probably years ago.

“No,”

“Yeah,” he says, “yes.”

“Are you serious?” you whisper, feeling your tears jerk to the surface, rimming your eyes. You rest a hand on his.

He’s shaking.

“Hajime,” you laugh, wiping a hand under your eye. “You’re shaking.”

He sighs.

“I know,” he nods. Iwaizumi cracks a small smile — he thinks he might cry, too. “You told me to do it scared.”

Your brows furrow and unfurrow in the matter of a few seconds. Yeah, you did say that.

(You were sixteen and talking about less major things, but you did say that.)

“So I’m doing it,” he finishes. “Scared.”

“Scared of what?”

He shrugs. “That I’d stutter when I ask you to marry me. Or that you’d say no.”

You smile. “Have you asked me?”

“Not yet. I was gonna make a speech, but I,” he slows. He stops — he has to, he’s getting choked up. “I might have to save it for later.”

“I don’t want a speech, I wanna hear you say it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. Iwaizumi takes your hand in his shaking hold, his thumb swiping over the top of your ring finger. “I’m gonna do it now.”

“Get on with it, Hajime.”

You’re unmistakably excited.

Iwaizumi kisses where the ring will be if you tell him yes. Scared and all, he looks up at you.

(He speaks the words you’ve been waiting for into your skin. Will you marry me? murmured into your knuckles.

You don’t even tell him yes. Not coherently, anyway.)

You throw yourself into his chest and he has to hold himself up against the coffee table behind him to kiss you upright.

“Yes,” you answer again, over and over. “Even if you were scared to ask.”

“It just means I love you, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, taking your hand and moving it back in front of him. He slips your ring onto your finger. “Just scared on the off chance you were gonna spit in my face—“

“Shut up,”

“Hey, don’t talk to your fiancé like that.” Iwaizumi hesitates, looking up from the ring to your face. His eyes are so soft that you know they’re for you. “That has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Fiancé,” you repeat. Husband to be.

“Yeah. That does sound pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“Just imagine how I think fiancée sounds, honey.”

“And look — you didn’t even stutter.”

“Oh, come o—“

“Careful what you say, now. Happy fiancée, happy life, Hajime.”

“I don’t think that’s the saying, but okay.”

You nod, your fingers finally slipping the belt free and moving to undo his zipper. "I've never been more serious about anything, Shin," you whisper, voice soft, breathless. "I want this. I want you."

You push his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock, watching as it springs free—thick, flushed and leaking at the tip. Your underwear quickly follows, your hand reaching down to tuck it to the side with a soft rustle.

Shinichiro stares for a moment, breath growing shallow like he can’t believe this is actually happening. His hands remain on your hips for a moment, unsure what to do, where to start, until you take a hold of one and guide it between your thighs.

Your body's response is immediate, hips bucking against his touch, your eyes meeting his when they finally flicker up to your face. His fingertips start exploring, a little clumsy at first, but he finds your slit and runs two fingers slowly up your heat, gathering slick.

He parts your folds carefully, his thumb stretching to brush gently over your clit, tentative, testing.

"Fuck, yes— right there, just like that," you jolt, a broken moan tumbling from your lips as he does it again, slower this time. His other hand steadies you at the waist while he keeps going, his fingers dipping down to your entrance and pressing one inside.

"Fuck, you're perfect." he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his finger curling slightly, mimicking the things he saw in his favorite porn videos.

He can tell it's working from the way you start grinding down on his hand, desperate for more. "Add another— please. Another."

He obeys instantly, slipping a second finger inside. The stretch is just enough to make your thighs quiver, your forehead dropping against his as you ride his fingers slowly, moaning and whimpering with every movement. He watches you the whole time, mesmerized, his cock twitching against his stomach and leaking more precum with each filthy little sound you make.

His thumb eventually resumes its circles on your clit, syncing with the thrust of his fingers, and it isn't long before you’re clinging to his shoulders, fingertips leaving crescent shaped indents into his skin. "I'm g-gonna—fuck, baby, i'm gonna come,"

And with one last stroke over your sweet spot, you're sent over the edge, your walls clenching hard around his fingers as your body trembles in his arms, your moans muffled against his forehead as you kiss it. Shin keeps moving through it, gentle and slow, helping you ride it out.

"Can I…?" he breathes out, head tipping back to look at you through hooded eyes. "Can I be inside you now?"

You give him your consent and Shinichiro swears he’s never moved faster in his life.

His fingers slip from you, making you whine in protest, but then he’s gripping his cock at the base, stroking once, twice, before dragging the tip through your slick folds, rubbing against your clit and making you tremble in his lap.

"I won't last," he warns, his chest rising and falling in quick, shallow bursts. "fuck, I’m sorry. I’m gonna fucking burst as soon as I’m in."

He’s trying so damn hard to keep it together but you already have him teetering on the edge before you’ve even taken him in, so much that he has to squeeze his eyes shut and breathe before he completely embarrasses himself.

He doesn't see it but you nod in response, your own breath catching in your throat as you lift yourself up, one hand taking over to wrap around the base of his cock and guide him. He twitches in your palm, looking almost in pain with how hard he is.

"It’s okay," you whisper out loud, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I don't mind."

He watches as you line him up, the swollen head brushing against your slick entrance, and both of you moan at the contact. His eyes are fixed on yours, and you take advantage of it to sink down slowly.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck—" His words cut off into a strangled groan, his fingers digging into your skin in a desperate attempt to ground himself.

You slide down inch by inch, your lips parting in silent moans as he stretches you open. His forehead drops against your shoulder when you finally bottom out, jaw clenched, sweat beading at his brow.

"Wait. Stop. Stop— don’t move," he chokes out, "Fuck, I’m gonna come. Give me a second."

You still, swallowing down a moan as you sit fully seated on him, hips flush to his, the head of his cock reaching deep inside, twitching and throbbing in pain and pleasure.

"It’s okay," you repeat, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead, pressing a lingering kiss there. "It's okay. Just breathe, baby,"

Shinichiro nods, gulping air, trying to will his body to calm down. His fingers trace lazy circles into your skin, grounding himself in the feel of you. He exhales shakily and finally opens his eyes after a minute that feels like forever, meeting your gaze. "Okay," he whispers, voice thick. "Okay, I’m good now."

Then, finally, you start to move—setting a gentle rhythm at first. You ride him in slow, sensual rolls of your hips, and Shinichiro meets your movements with timid thrusts of his own. He bites down on his bottom lip, hard, mortified by the idea of spilling his load barely a minute in, but he doesn’t stop you again. His hands roam to try and distract himself instead; up your sides, over your ribs, thumbs brushing along the curve of your breasts.

“You feel so good,” you whisper, riding him gently, your body melting into his. “Fuck, baby, you're so big. So fucking deep inside me.”

“Don’t say that,” he whines softly, forehead pressing to your chest, and you laugh— your breath catching with the rhythm, fingers carding gently through his damp hair.

“You don't have to hold back,” you whisper into his hair. "Come whenever you need to, baby. It’s okay, I promise."

Shin lets out a broken moan at that, his hips thrusting up into you a little more confidently once, twice, three times, his control eventually slipping. Then he's whining out your name, over and over again in times with his thrusts, faster and more desperate each time. You tighten around him in response, clenching deliberately, your hand slipping to his cheek and guiding his face up so he's looking at you. His eyes are wide and glassy, lips parted to let out the hottest moans.

Your thumb brushes the single tear that slips down his cheek, catching it before it falls.

"I'm coming— please. Please." he moans, the words spilling from him like he can’t stop them. "I can't— hah, I'm coming,"

Then he’s gone. His body locks up beneath you, his cock pulsing deep inside as he spills into you with a drawn out, guttural cry. He clings to you like he’s coming apart, face buried against your chest, a mess of soft whimpers and trembling limbs, his skin burning at the touch.

You hold him through it, continuing to rock your hips gently, kissing his hair and whispering soothing things as he comes down.

Sunghoon shouldn't want you as much as he does.

He shouldn't want you at all, his girlfriend the lone reason. However, in the packed ruckus of the LED-lit bar, his inhibitions get the best of him ─ making him lookout for your looming figure in the haystack of students. One of the last night's out before the holidays calls for celebration, old Christmas lights string around wooden pillars with popular holiday remixes blaring through the speakers. In true festive spirit, employees are trademarked by ugly sweaters and flimsy Santa hats, a noticeable two standing out from the crowd. 

The terrible twos, you and Sieun —your closest friend — laugh despite the heavy foot traffic, a bucket of ice hauled over by your towering figure. Your black leather boots have you stand out amongst the crowd, bright smile haloed by the bar's spotlights, illumination emphasizing your…costume. The sexy Santa stitch of fabric barely covers any skin yet highlights everything about your figure, deep red a compliment to your complexion. 

Whosever idea this was, the shorts included, had a drink on Sunghoon.

"Bro," a hard nudge hits him in the bicep, flinch directing his gaze back to his table where Jake looks less than impressed. "Eyes up here."

"I don't blame him," Heeseung murmurs, not even hiding his eyes dipped into Sieun's cleavage. He'd even raised his eyebrows ─ pervert. Not that Sunghoon's any better. "I hate to see her go, but I love to watch her walk away."

"Didn't think virgins had preferences," Jay laughs into his pint, face souring when Heeseung tips the glass to spill down his chin. "The fuck? This quarter-zip's brand new!"

"And they're meant to be the oldest," Jake's eyes roll, pint glass perched on the Harley Davidson coaster. His attention floats back to Sunghoon, spying his inattention. He doesn't need to bet money where his best friend's eyes are. "How's your girl?"

"What girl?"

Appalled huffs of amusement demand Sunghoon's focus, focus back on their corner table they snagged before the chaos. 

"What the fuck bro," Heeseung laughs, arms folded over his stomach.

"Hang him by his balls," Jay shakes his head, fingers carding through tousled strands. "Holy shit, man."

It dawns on him then, the mirage of his girlfriend materializing upon being prompted. It's alarming how regular of an occurrence it is. 

"Right, Songyi," Sunghoon nods, utilizing repeated blinks to search for called upon information. He remembers her texting him she'd be over later after her housemates leave for the club. "She's good. Can't complain."

The smack of pool balls echoes in their corner of the bar, farm green table dotted with a mixed group of students playing a poor game. Somehow it still manages to catch Jay's attention. 

"It's been, what? Two weeks since you got together?" Jay muses, knocking back the rest of his drink. "How's that working out for you?"

Not as imagined, Sunghoon can admit. Ever since he laid eyes on you, the angelic beauty and well of kindness people preached of you makes you all the more unattainable. Sunghoon sees you around, not often, but enough to memorize the details. The shy tuck of hair behind your ear, the starfish pendant that sits in the dip of your collarbones, the plump pink of your lips he's had one too many dreams of.

On opposite ends of degrees, common ground is hard to find, but Sunghoon makes it work. Sees you leaving the library when he's coming in, watches you laugh with friends in the campus cafe, gets waited on by you at what's conveniently become his favourite bar despite its extortionate prices. The clubcard makes it worth it, Sunghoon reasons with the guys, but they know better. Know why it's his first suggestion in the first place.

An entire year is spent hovering on the edge of your social circle, a customer-service smile the most he gets when Sunghoon lucks out at the bar. He's not the daring type, so his extent of breaching conversation is trying to find you on dating apps, to no avail. 

Unattainable. It must be why he's so bewitched, even when there's no hope. Pushed by the guys and their reality checks, Sunghoon forgoes his pursuit of the campus princess and…settles. Goes for the first girl who puts forward the same energy he wishes you'd give him. 

Of course, in a cruel strike of fate, the day he asks Songyi out is the day you finally notice him. On the the neon light-up dance floor of your town's singular club, you tap his back, hand on his shoulder as you stand on the tips of your toes. You're tipsy, hinted in the slight slur of your words, yet it sends shivers down his spine all the same when your voice drops to a whisper reserved for his ears only.

Has he seen a mutual friend? He's never been more grateful not being shit-faced drunk. All the energy drinks his Vodka is mixed with jump start the thunder of his heart, lips parted in silent surprise as you drop to normal height. You're looking up at him with those eyes — hooded, lash-filled, like you want something from him. Because he'd give you everything in a heartbeat.

Sound struggles out his throat, somehow producing a cohesive answer when he's bent down to whisper back in your ear. You smell like vanilla and sweat, the thought of licking a stripe up the column of your neck making him strain against his baggy jeans. Thank yous fall from your pouty lips, a squeeze against his bicep before you're gone with the wind, ducking out to the smoking area where Sunghoon directs you. 

It doesn't take him long to yell over the cheesy 2000s music if anyone wants to go out for a cig, prayer hands presented by Heeseung. Outside in the chill of early December, a large floodlight is the only source of light in the poor excuse of a smoking area, the literal front entrance of the over-priced club. It's almost alley-like, the size of four parking spaces but Sunghoon could care less. The whirl of cigarette smoke from Beomgyu and Heeseung doesn't even bother him. All that matters is finding you, which he does seconds later, a circle of friends surrounding you. Your tiny tank top provides little protection from the cold, hand running up your exposed arms with a cigarette between your manicured nails.

He wonders what it'd look like around his─

"There he is!" Your eyes flare in a burst of recognition. Of excitement. Sunghoon can't quite believes his eyes or ears. "Get over here, handsome!"

It's one of the rare moments in his life he's at a loss for what to do, deer-in-the headlights look cast amongst his circle of friends who are just as confused. He'll dab up Jay later for shoving him forwards, your hand outstretched to pull him through a sea of people, placing him right beside you as you introduce him.

He's the kind stranger who helped you find your mutual friend, thus finding your group for the night. A soft hand cups him underneath his jaw, squishing his cheeks as your mouth runs about seeing him around often, the cute guy you've seen around in your words. Sunghoon kind of lets things happen, enjoying the receiving end of your drunk affection ─ how you pull him close by his belt loops and jokingly bump into him when he teases you. You're everything he's imagined and more ── sweet, witty and all the more alluring. 

He leaves the club that night friends with you and regretting ever asking Songyi to be his. Because he'd never really be hers, not whilst you're around.

"Like a charm," Heeseung muses, a teasing eyebrow raise sent Sunghoon's way. "Imagine the luck - bagging Songyi the very same day she remembers he exists."

"Fuck off," Sunghoon barks louder than intended. The rolled eyes at their small table call him to clear his throat, gaining back some composure. "It is what it is, I guess."

"Spoken like a true gentleman," Jay's jokes are endless, as are his deserved rebuttals, another spill down his chin. "Okay, you fucking owe me a pint, asshat."

"Gladly." 

The boys don't have time to register his actions nor his true intentions before Sunghoon's stalked off, swerving through the pool-playing crowd and into the crowded open bar space with its never-ending queues. On the TVs mounted around, various ice hockey games play, beer sloshed around each time an almost goal registers with the drunk crowd. Sunghoon catches your eyes hang on on the game, jaw tensed as you pour a drink with a tilt. 

His interest in the game is non-existent, but he could be a fan if it means having one more thing in common with you. Sunghoon spends his time queuing doing this, watching you watch the game, serving people with a smile. It's not the same smile he gets out of you after that night, but it's similar in width. Only does it fill with warmth when he's made his way to the front, the mob dissipating on the far edge of the bar, a noticeable quietness here.

"Sunghoon," his name drips with honey, dazzling eyes peering up at him. "What can I get you?"

He swallows the cotton ball in his throat. "A San Miguel, please," he leans against the sticky wooden bar, leather jacket two shades darker. "How you holding up?"

"Good, all things considered," a breathless smile accents your words, hands working with diminished quickness. He doesn't allow himself to consider it's to spend more time with him. "My feet are shredded though. The joys of four inch heel boots."

He leans forwards as if it'll give him a better view, nothing but your mile-long legs in his sight. Fucks sake. "Did your boss make you wear them?"

"God no! This was all my idea," a hand's over your chest, nails matching your sight-for-sore-eyes top. "You know how the saying goes; beauty is pain."

"That seems unnecessary." 

"Hm?"

Turns out his whisper does meet your ears, curious blinks directed to him as the polished silver tap lets golden San Miguel fill its glass.

"Well, I mean…" if he wasn't making eye contact before, he isn't now. Darting between rainbow-assorted alcoholic drinks behind you, a darts board and the festive season's drink specials. Hand-drawn by yours truly. "You're already really pretty."

Suddenly, the bar shrinks to your own shared bubble, nothing but your awestruck face flooding his senses. The silence would be deafening if not for how hard his heart rabbits in his chest, damn near bruising because even if Songyi's not here to hear this, he shouldn't be saying it anyways.

"Coming from you?" you end up saying, pushing down the type of smile you can't hide. "Sure know how to make a lady feel special, don't you?"

Songyi would sure hope so. Sunghoon can only manage a tight-lipped beam, his drink perched on the bar-top with little to no foam. 

You really are perfect.

Even more so when he goes to pay, the total reflected lower than his last.

"Hey, I think it's a bit sh─" 

"Consider it a friendly discount," you wink, hand overlapping his, sliding from his wrist down to his fingertips. The shudder he experiences shakes him to his very core. "You know where I am for more."

Somehow, Sunghoon stumbles back to his table, hand soiled in beer after being jostled around by the pool crowd. When Jay asks about his drink, his friend has no answer, just the far-off stare that lets them know they're in for a world of trouble.

The original plan for tonight is that Sunghoon and the guys load up on drinks at The Falcon, then make it to the club in time for midnight entry. All of them except for Sunghoon follow through, the latter hanging back outside the Falcon, frost of the December icing the roads as he waits for lights to turn off at the local bar. 

It takes enough time for him to pop down to the nearby fried chicken place, fill his stomach and come back. He pops a breath mint for reasons unknown, wiping imaginary grease on his trousers as the remainder of your colleagues leave the dimmed business, trading curious gazes at his residual figure.

"Sunghoon?"

A conscious decision. Even though you've see him, he can still walk away. He can stil curse himself creating blurred lines and take his dirty secret to the grave. 

Except he doesn't. He only stares at the dip in your cleavage as you strut over in heels that must be killing you, red leather shorts leaving nothing to the imagination. Your sheepskin coat is meant to provide some relief, but with how long it is, it swallows every bit of visible clothing on you.

It's a while before Sunghoon can get out any coherent words. 

"Figured you could use the company," comes out scratchy, airy in some places."Here, take this."

Without thinking, he's slipping off his sneakers, stripping off his socks that will soak up the icy pavement anyways. On one knee he drops, peering up at you.

"Oh, I couldn't─"

“You will."

Unbeknownst to Sunghoon, something awakens in you at his final tone. Quiet compliance allows for him to unzip your boots, your hand braced against his shoulder as he slips off your shoes and puts his on. Silence dominates the low whisper of a half-asleep town, the tick of the pedestrian green light leading Sunghoon to walk alongside you, making sure you get home safe.

Amongst other things.

"The guys aren't with you…" you finally say, eyeing your boots he wouldn't let you carry.

"Yeah, they went out," he explains, walking closest to the road."I wasn't feeling it tonight."

The lone car on the road drives past your ambling figures, in no way diminishing the sound of your next words.

"So, I get you all to myself then," something mischievous curves your lips, a small part of Sunghoon's fantasies. "Wait, what was it you said earlier? I couldn't hear you, the bar was so loud."

When Jay couldn't stand his shit anymore and pushed Sunghoon to get his refill, the bar got busy again, no time for quiet conversation. 

It just had to happen when Sunghoon had something to ask.

"The guys and I are throwing a party when we're all back, before exams," the words come out choppy, like he's frigid from the cold beneath his feet. It's what your assumption should be, rather than him being nervous. "It'd be g-good to see you there."

More silence.

And a sudden stop, your hands weighted in your beige coat's pockets as Sunghoon whirls around, in full view of you haloed by the lights of town centre.

"Did you wait till my shift was over to ask me?"

He shrugs, feigning indifference.

"It's dark out; I'm not the kind of guy who'd willing let you walk home alone," he mirrors you, hands in his back jean pockets instead. "It doesn't hurt I had something to tell you as well."

"Oh, Sunghoon," You say his name like it's sacred, a word shared only between you two. "As much as I appreciate the gesture, a text would do. You have my number, right?"

No, he doesn't. He's been kicking himself ever since that smoking area night for not asking, because maybe it wouldn't be as weird asking then as opposed to how it feels in the daylight of your campus. Prying eyes, creeping guilt, all that jazz.

He shakes his head no. 

"Let's change that."

Under a pale yellow streetlight, Sunghoon gains the only number he's wanted in his phone, ignoring the one that's let him know she's let herself into the guys' house. You don't see it, his phone is on Do Not Disturb. Plus, it's harmless really, just contact information exchanged. He's done the same with people, other girls he's had group projects with. 

You're not other girls though.

"Goodnight, Sunghoon." is the whisper you leave him with when you've reached your house. It's streets down from his. 

When you disappear behind the closure of your front door, your absence is alarming. The walk back home is just as deafening, a gnaw carving at his chest cavity persisting until it's a black hole. He's still cold even after you've given back his shoes, squeezing his bicep again in thanks.

When Sunghoon gets back home, Songyi soundly sleeps in his bed, curling into him when he slips into bed. She looks peaceful, waves of midnight fragrant with citrus. He hasn't had the heart to tell her he hates oranges.

Not long after she dozes again, a light snore her tell, he pries himself away. Treading down the carpeted hall upstairs, he locks himself in the bathroom, fucking his fist to the thought of you and those damn shorts. 

The Christmas break is agonizing. In addition to going back to his family who see no need for privacy, you text him from time to time, sending selfies of your latest adventures at home. Your ginger cat sleeping in your lap, the Christmas market your friends accompany you to, the white-icing Christmas cookies you make. Your nose is scrunched up, icing on the button of your nose. This is his agony, seeing you like this and not being able to do anything about it. 

At some point over the break, you don't text as much, don't text at all and Sunghoon worries. Worries that maybe you've found out about Songyi and he wouldn't say there goes his chance, but it's a feeling vaguely similar to that. Losing your proximity, the press of your touch, the sugary-sweet words you use only with him. He hasn't had you long but he can't stand the thought of losing you, not for anyone. 

Ultimately, he doesn't have time to ponder longer since his degree demands attention, so he begrudgingly gives in. Studying through the days, helping out around the house, seeing old friends through the days leading to him driving up to uni again, a flutter in his chest. The guys are already setting up for the party, stacking up the red cups and getting out foldable tables for beer pong. Jake's even taken the liberty of putting up party decorations, in the middle of hanging up a gold party streamer in one of the walkways.

"Is that straight?" he quizzes from atop the step ladder.

"Just a bit to the right, then you're all good." Songyi instructs in her small, cautious tone. As if sensing his presence, her head whips back, expression alight with fondness. "Hoon, you're here!"

She barrels into his arms, hard pressed into his chest as his arms slowly circle her. He ignores Jake's blatant stare, opting to play his part as Songyi's boyfriend as he caresses the back of her head. He would've kissed her there, but the citrus scent is too strong for him to stay long.

"Tonight's gonna be amazing, I can't wait for everyone to get here." 

He smiles, something wicked behind it. "Me too."

A friend of a friend who Jay knows holds down the aux for the night, his very own deck assembled in the middle of the spacious living room. Strobe lights flash, every colour under the sun dotted on the walls otherwise tainted in darkness, bustling conversation and warm bodes swarming their house not built for so many occupants. Sunghoon usually wouldn't be too pleased queueing for the bathroom in his own house, but the carefree atmosphere is something he's desperately needed after being shackled to his study desk. Not that exams are over, or have even started, but it's good to have the break before he has to clock in for obscenely long shifts at the library.

It doesn't hurt you texted him earlier, asking for his address. You'd also shown him your outfit options, questioning whether either of the three are too 'dressy.'

He has to take a moment outside to collect himself.

The text was sent over an hour ago, so you should be here. On his way back into the house, Jake catches him by his shoulder, eyebrows hardset through his wispy fringe.

"You wouldn't happen to know why she's here, would you?" he asks.

No need for elaboration. They both know who she is.

"Not a clue," he pouts, ignoring the hard pulse in his neck. "The parties' all over everyone's story. Maybe she invited herself."

Jake doesn't buy it.

"Your girlfriend's here," he grits out, white-knuckling his best friend's shoulder. "Remember that."

He deserts him for more light-hearted conversation, blending into the group of people seamlessly, Sunghoon long forgotten.

Don't I know. He'd stew longer in Jake's words but the rush of adrenaline through him propels him elsewhere. To you, finally here. Which explains why he's sifting through the crowd for you, coming through their backyard (makeshift smoking area) into the kitchen, venturing into the living room where he promptly halts. 

Against one of the white walls of the room, adorned with cutout faces of everyone living in the house (Jake and Songyi's idea) is you, beautiful as ever. You're wearing a sequin skirt only you could pull off, a plain off the shoulder top showing enough skin to drive Sunghoon wild with your starfish necklace completing the look. His night should be made; you're here, in his living room, at the house party that will surely to be remembered. 

Except you're talking to none other than Songyi.

A boulder-like weight sinks down in his stomach like an anchor, a greenish feeling invading his weakening body. You're talking, very much engaged in conversation as Songyi uses her hands talking in your ear, your occasional nod a sign of understanding. Maybe the understanding that Sunghoon's a bum, a man with no backbone. A man who's already emotionally cheated, so what's stopping him from doing it physically? The room spins, Equator-hot as light strobes feed into his overstimulation.

Before Sunghoon can scramble for the words, you spot him. The look is brief, no indication for the second that feels like an hour before your hand raises in a wave, politeness curving on your lips. Songyi follows your line of sight, giving one clap before she flags him over, pulling him through dancing bodies since his feet are paralysed with fear.

Fear of the unknown, of the reality he may have ruined being deceitful.

Songyi hangs off his bicep, her hold not as comforting. Sunghoon hates this, being on the other end of a conversation with you, not beside you like he wants. At least it gives him a vantage point to see what you're thinking, not that your expression gives it away. 

"This is the guy I was telling you about," Songyi yells over the music. "My boyfriend, Sunghoon."

A bomb might as well have gone off, its aftermath forcing his eyes shut as all he can do is await his fate. Nothing's up for discussion, Sunghoon has sent clear signs he's interested in you. You'd be something else to think otherwise, you'd be right to chew him out in front of everyone.

"I heard," your lips' curve extends, hand held out for a shake. Sunghoon can only blink. "He's a regular at my bar. Never goes elsewhere."

Under duress is how he shakes your hand, the live-wire spark still the same for those fleeting seconds, your grip on his a second too long. He doesn't meet Songyi's gaze.

"The Falcon, right? God, he might as well rent a room there," his girlfriend rolls her eyes, swatting at his chest. "I've been trying to put him on other bars, but turns out he's pretty stubborn."

"He knows where home is," you say, loud enough to be heard. "I guess."

Through his eyebrows, he looks at you, you already looking at him. He doesn't know what you're up to, not the slightest clue, but he'll find out soon enough.

His night continues like this, on edge. You don't allow him a moment alone, occupied with groups of friends like the social butterfly you are. There's even a point where you're with Jay, Heeseung and Jake. Upon seeing him, his friends save for Jake give him flared eyes, your presence gone as soon as he nears. Sunghoon doesn't know what to think or say. All he knows is he's chasing after you. In his own damn house, with Sonyi on his arm.

Somehow time evades him, the desolation of their trashed house speaking to the late hour. Three in the morning. By then, the cops have come round, snarky neighbours making a noise compliant that after the threat of arrest, people filter out. 

All that's left is half-hung decorations, a red-cupped floor and missing forks in their utensils draw. The strobe lights are still going, their crackled murmur background noise. Jay's friend of a friend, Johnny paid his dues, had the roof nearly cave in from how hard people were jumping around, and is gone too.

It's a mess. The house and his friends who are nowhere to be found. Songyi went upstairs earlier complaining of a migraine, Jake's gone to smoke a joint two doors down, Jay's passed out on the toilet and Heeseung is miraculously losing his virginity. In a surprise turn of events, he manages to charm your friend from the bar, Sieun. And someway, in the dying minutes of the party, she leads him up the stairs to his room. He'd given Sunghoon the biggest thumbs up before he disappeared. Not a soul left behind.

A cup crushes beneath a foot, turning his head. 

His breath catches.

There you are, doused in delicate kitchen light, stepping into the lounge like you're his saviour. Bashfulness pulls at your features, so put together despite the mess surrounding you.

"Figured you could use the help," you offer, a playful spread amongst your features. "Payback for the other night."

The rubbish bag floats out his hand, picked up with a flush. "You don't have to."

"I want to," it's final, your tone. Firm, knowing. "Let me help you."

With a deep swallow, he resumes picking up rubbish in the common areas of their house, lost possessions mixed in with trash people didn't try putting away. As per your suggestion, he finds an empty beer box, used as the lost and found box you'll post about on your socials for everyone to find. You work without many words, only exchanging some when necessary. It's not the same silence you shared back before the holidays, that was tender, almost pure. This…is charged, festering. Pushing under his fingernails, attuning him to every sound you make. 

Eventually, when all rubbish is cleared and stacked outside on the curb for collectors come daybreak, Sunghoon collapses to the couch, springs hissing under him. You hovered behind him outside and now inside, some hesitation riddles your movements. Sunghoon misses it with his head lolled back, arm covering his eyes for a moment's break. 

You're revealed to him when the hesitation is gone, cast in the soft orange wall light of the living room, strobe lights and TV turned off. 

During the party, you'd watched the hockey game playing, just as you'd done at Falcon. The difference is that Sunghoon now knows the roaster, an app downloaded on his phone for the latest gameday news. 

"Want me to order you an uber?" he asks, voice wavering. He's nervous, running shaky hands up and down the grain of his jeans. "I'd drive you home, but I've had a drink. Or many. I could walk you home if you─"

"I'm good here."

Your words hang for a moment, a guillotine of crashing reality Sunghoon's mind is scrambling to comprehend.

"O…kay?"

He's defenceless, watching you fold onto the couch beside him, one leg crossed with your knee touching his. Even through fabric, your touch is searing. Sunghoon would jolt back, as he pretends he doesn't, but he's frozen in place, perplexed. 

Not getting his hopes up.

"So," you start, vanilla scent wafting his way. "Your girlfriend…she's cute."

Sunghoon's lightheaded, dots dominating his feverishly-blinked vision. "Yeah."

"How long you been dating for?"

"A few weeks," Sunghoon answers, unsure. "Give or take."

Your chin lifts, searching. "When's the first time you saw me?"

"Mid October of last year," he replies straightaway. "You'd just started working at Falcon."

A pause, a purposeful one meant to underline how his two responses differ according to who they involve.

"Hm," your elbow props into the storm grey blanket over the ripped leather couch, chin in your palm. His body's not facing you, but he's got his head craned to you. "Interesting."

Sunghoon feels vulnerable, stripped to his barest in what's meant to be the comfort of his home. Only now, it feels like your evil lair. 

"Were you gonna tell me?"

Was he? Sunghoon isn't sure, like many other things in his messed-up brain. This predicament, your knee on him, how much he likes you, why he's still with his girlfriend. The latter haunts him more than he likes, a discomfort he pushes into a door slammed shut. Yet, it fights back, piling out of the door, demanding an answer.

And truthfully, he doesn't have a clear answer. He just didn't want to be the dickhead who breaks up with Songyi the day they got together. 

Rather, he's the dickhead who's cheating on her.

His fingers interlace, a ricochet inside him. "Do you─" he clears his throat, struggling. Not looking at you. "Do you care?"

Another pause. Tonight's been full of them, a lot contemplated with the absence of words. 

"No."

He's live-wire again, shuddering out a breath desperately pushing out his fragile lungs. The house is cold, gusts of wind carrying through cracked open windows in the lounge. He shivers, not from the temperature, because you're quickly undoing every stitch of restraint he has. 

"I wish I could control myself with you." he admits. To himself, to you.

"Don't," is your low answer, shifting out his peripheral. "It's no use." 

At the turn of his head, your knee presses into him further. You're closer now, and he's finally turned his body towards you, a mess of limbs, even messier people owning them. Everything is still, not even the early morning birds crowing, almost as if the rest of the world has left you two behind.

The thought makes everything after this easier.

No one knows who leans in first, but he feels it, the hover of your face and the fan of your breath. It's syrupy sweet, a burst of flavour once your lips press together. His life is never the same again, light and colour so vivid that he can't go back to things before, the imprint of your lips forever remembered. Fingers in his hair, you tether yourself to him to keep yourself from sinking further into desire, the hard pull earning a drawn out moan, muffled by the smacks of moving lips.

Unfathomable greed dictates your actions, not enough closeness between each other, so you straddle him, his large hands skimming your sides, thumb tracing patterns into goosebump-riddled skin. Sunghoon takes, deepening the kiss by gliding a tentative stripe to your bottom lips, welcoming your taste. Finally, he knows what you taste like - an undercurrent of Diet Pepsi and that strawberry gum he sees you smack on.

A hitch in your breath comes when his hands venture further, cold against your warming skin, thumbs running over your hardened nipples. A mewl bleeds into the kiss, hips in prime position for a grind you give into. His grip tightens on your ribcage, shuffling slightly to meet your next grind coming in waves. The scratch of his jeans against your damp underwear creates the friction you've long craved. 

Moments pass like this, drinking each other in, tongues brushing, moans swallowed before you pull back. Not enough to bring frigidness into your fold, but enough to catch your breath, forehead pressed to his. 

His face is in your hands, held like porcelain as your thumb graze. Comb over his eyebrows, down the slope of his neck, over his plump kissed lips, thumb pad catching the fan of his breath against it. Hands move again, cupping his cheeks as your eyes brim with hidden affection.

"You're so handsome." 

A few chaste kisses are all Sunghoon gets before your lips migrate, starting their journey on the sharp edge of his jaw, down the column of his neck. Focused on branding his skin, Sunghoon's hands take control of your aimless hips, grinding you flush against his erection. He groans, teeth in his bottom lip so he can continue getting away with this, you on him and everything it entails. Before he comes to, you're on your knees, pleased as can be as you unbutton his black jeans, lowering them with his underwear to expose his cock.

A desire to pull up his trousers and run off gnaws at his overheating skin, his thoughts muddling as you don't hide how enamoured you are by his cock. He's bigger than you're used to, shaft ribbed with angry veins and a fat tip leaking enough precome to make your stomach twist. The tip of your index finger descends from his happy trail, following stray veins as his skin quivers under your touch, finger running along the veins of his cock to the tip, thumb running over his slit. And because you can't help yourself, you lick the substance off your thumb.

Sunghoon swears his brain malfunctions, conjures images that can only remain true in the realm of his wildest dreams because there's simply no way you're on your knees for him, licking his come like it's the best thing you've tasted. He groans, fingers moving into your hair as you cover his tip in chaste kisses, swirling your tongue flat against the skin, contact eliciting a hiss through his bared teeth. 

He can't remember when last he got a blowjob, Songyi shy and intimidated enough by his size and sex in general to only go as far as a handjob. Her hands barely fit around him, inexperience leaving her stranded for what to do in compensation. But you know, hand seeking out the slick between your legs to lather the rest of his length from harsh friction. It's the single most hottest thing he's ever seen, the grin you do afterwards a close second as you take him into your mouth, jaw unhinging to cover all your bases.

Your head starts to bob, working him further into you, hand close behind your lips forming a tight tunnel to make up for the inches you can't take. The sloppy work of the blowjob eats away at the quiet of the night, Sunghoon's groans and whines thrown in to complete the image as he relishes in the comfort of your mouth. You're so good at it, knowing the right pressure, messy with the level of enthusiasm that slightly worries him he'll come too soon.

It's like you're drunk off him, rhythm never wavering as greed controls how much of his twitching cock you stuff yourself with, getting overzealous as his tip pushes past a gag point. Your throat closes up, a hard gag fluttering around his tip. His fingers go to pull hard at your strands before he remembers better and releases.

Noticing his motions, you pry from him with saliva overlining your lips, hands taking over.

"It's okay," you almost laugh, eyes creased with innocent-like laughter. "You can be a little rough with me. I promise I'll like it."

Sharpness prickles at his spine, surprised. "Y-you sure?"

"Yeah," you nod, tongue swirling around his tip again, only this time you're looking him square in the eyes. "Pull my hair, fuck my throat─it'll make taking you easier."

The groan Sunghoon emits is almost carnal, everything within him used to not flood your mouth with come. You get back to bobbing on his cock, pushing yourself to see how far you can take him even if you gag, water lining your eyes as you cycle through routine gags. The fullness of your throat pulls your nipples taut, your underwear sticking to you in tortured mess.

"Hold on, I'm gonna come," he pants, forehead creased as his hand pull harder on your hair. The smile against his length tells him you don't care for his warning, your pace increases. At this point, you don't care much for what your body can't take, only making him come, your wish quickly coming true. 

Sunghoon's rendered desperate enough, shallow bucks of his hips meeting the back of your throat, pleased hums vibrating around him done to undo him. He hits the back of your throat one last time, his hands on either side of your head as he comes down your throat. Pure filth oozes out his lips, moans seeping deep into your bones, choking on the taste of him.

As Sunghoon returns from the wall of pleasure he's rammed into, his body sinks back while his grip loosens on you. Bringing your head up, you showcase his latest masterpiece as your lips detach with a wet pop.

You're filthy, half your face smeared in slobbered saliva and his come, and yet, you've never looked more perfect. So his, tongue darting out to lick the corners of your mouth, eyes moon crescents as you smile at him, a sheepish giggle following.

He's already hard. 

"I can't wait anymore." 

Surprise splashes onto your face. "You don't need a minute to…?"

"I've waited long enough," his thumb catches one last trace of come, dragging back to the centre of your lips where you lick it clean. His cock kicks, filling in. 

Ever the gentlemen, he helps you to your feet, pulling you onto his lap before you toss your top aside, breasts on full display. The fact you didn't bother wearing a bra kept him semi-hard the entire night. 

You collapse into messy kisses again, noses bending to dull aches, moans muffled to plush lips moving in unison. Everything is frantic and all-consuming, his shirt tossed aside to the roam of your hands, ghosting over his muscled torso while he grabs a handful of your ass, kneading the flesh to the high whine of your throat.

"I didn't want─" he pants, licking over your lips to make you shiver. "─to do this on the couch."

He sounds so sincere, so sweet. You can't help but chuckle a little, indenting gentle teeth marks into his lip. 

"If it were up to me, we'd be doing this on your bed next to her," you murmur, smirking into his quiet gasp. "But this works. As long as I have you."

"You always did."

You're so pressed to stick together, your skirt only bunches up on your hips, making small ridges into your hips. Sunghoon lowers his jeans enough to free himself, his cock standing tall, throbbing with a leaking tip that's red enough to hurt.

"Fuck," he curses, transfixed on you pulling your underwear to the side, material soaked through. "I don't have a condom."

"Don't need it," you hum, hips lifting with your hands guiding his tip along your cunt, a shaken breath shared between you two. "Oh, fuck."

It's the last thing you utter before you're sinking down on his length, sighs of relief heaved in the heated space between your quivering bodies. Sunghoon's holding your hips like a lifeline, head tipped enough to catch your every micro-expression ─ the pleased knit of your brows, the low hang of your jaw, whimpers of pleasure as you ease onto him. Your chest rises and falls in deep breaths, gummy walls burning to the stretch they mould to, devouring every inch Sunghoon has to offer. The lone hand on his shoulder attempts to burrow into his skin, almond-shaped nails gripping for a sliver of stability.

"Holy fuck," he huffs, eyes dropping down to where you're clenching around him. "You're so─shit. You're so damn tight." 

"You're huge, what the─" a groan empties out of you the moment you near the base of his cock, features pulled taut. "So full..give a minute."

Through gritted teeth, you attempt to acclimatize to his size, slippery walls working overtime as they flutter around him. Sunghoon's losing his mind, panting like a dog as he fights off the urge to really fill you, teeth seeking yours as they snag onto your bottom lip, drawing back with anguish and the taste of blood.

His need seeps through to you, fuel to your burning fire as your energy harnesses in your hips, moving to drag his cock from under his tip down near his pelvis. You're not working with much speed, but he's hitting so deep inside to draw out meek mewls, his hands pushing underneath your ass to give you more leverage. 

"Oh God," he whines, halfway apart as your cunt milks him dry. It doesn't help your breasts swing in his face, coming down with the force of your combined thrusts. "You feel so fucking good. So perfect on me."

"I can't take it all," you whine, near tears with moisture dampening your lashes, a hopeless daze in your eyes. "Move me, it's okay. I d-dont have to walk tomorrow."

"You're taking me so well already," one hand leaves from underneath you, on the back of your head as he leans in to kiss your hairline. 

An abandoned thought comes to mind. "Open your mouth."

"Huh?" 

"I said," his hips lift, knocking hard enough to release a low-level screech. "Open your mouth."

Malleable to his will, you comply, helped by the iron-clad grip under your chin before he spits on your tongue. Sunghoon thinks he watches you shatter, features screwed together as a deep moan echoes through you. His back sinks further into the couch, both hands back on your hips to fuck you on him, using you like you said he could.

"This isn't working."

Out your syrupy daze, some leftover sense clings to his words, frowning in confusion. Before you can ask what he means, his large arms wrap around you, standing to his feet. Letting out a yelp, your legs cling to him, wondering endless possibilities before you're put on your back, legs spread. Sunghoon has one knee bent on the couch, his other foot on the ground. His fingers card through his hair, pushing it back before he lines himself up again, slipping right in. 

"Better," he sighs in true relief, the sharpness of his canines resembling an animal. "Now I can fuck you how I want." 

"How you want." he beams before giving you his worst, months of endless pining coming to a head.

Guilt ceases to exist as he pulls out till his tip remains inside, pushing forwards to bury himself to the hilt. A loud squelch accompanying his thrusts, a river's worth of slick dribbling out your cunt and onto the grey blanket.

"You're─hmph, tighter than before," Sunghoon manages a chuckle, thrusts buckling under your vice grip. "How does that work?"

"I'm taking all of you, t-that's why," you smirk, head tilted like you can do no wrong. "Are you proud of me?"

His surprise doesn't stop him this time, a gradual tempo building with the bounce of your breasts. "I will be when you come on my cock."

A flip has switched. Sunghoon's no longer the bashful man who'd tremble at the thought of complimenting you, reservation letting you get away with touches he secretly adores. Now, he's a culmination of every day he couldn't have you.

"Do people know?" he asks, fucking you harder. "Do your friends know how much you love taken dick?"

Knots twist your stomach to never unravel, arms covering your eyes having little to do with silencing your moans, decibels climbing each time Sunghoon knocks into you. 

"Don't stoooop," you slur, cunt pulsating around his length. "My stomach…!"

A mean laugh hits your ears. "You can feel me in your stomach?" One hand abandons the top of your thigh, the heel of his palm pressing down onto the faint outline in your stomach. "Is that where I am?"

"Yes!" you hiccup, brain turning to mush as the dulled stretch of his cock wanes to an rush of ecstasy, heavy balls smacking against the flesh of your ass.

"So loud, baby," his ears flood, the thought of getting caught more enticing than troubling. "Want the whole house knowing how dirty you are? Want her knowing what a good whore you are for me?" 

You clamp down hard on him, boiling down to the singular thought of coming. Sunghoon does you a favour by speeding up the process, fingertips collecting slick splashed back on your thighs to rub over your clit, rush of his fingers pulling out a high-pitched squeal.

"Where's your fucking manners?"

Old couch springs show their age as they hiss under Sunghoon's moving weight, the slap of your bodies dangling in the air like an open secret. You sound like you're heaven-sent, so helpless to the overwhelm of pleasure as Sunghoon's cock bullies into you, blush blooming beneath your sweat-veiled skin.

"Hoonie, I─" you choke on the words, pressed for air. "I'm close."

"Am too, sweet girl," Sunghoon huffs, his thrust becoming more frantic. "Tell me you want this forever, tell me you're mine." 

"I'm yours. I love being yours," you cry, teary eyes staring up at him, pulling him down by his chain. "Give me what I want. Fill me up."

His hips stutter then, oxygen knocked out of him. "Want my come?"

"Want it so bad, Hoonie!"

"Okay, baby," he twitches, your gummy walls his demise. "Take it. Take my come, sweet girl."

"Sung─ah!"

It's too late, the thread's already snapped, orgasms hitting at the same time. Divine timing, as it's always been with you two, bodies suspended in the temporary bliss of your highs. It's unlike anything either of you have experienced, vision a blinding white as a thick stream of come coats your walls in a warm welcome. Sunghoon looks at you the entire time, watching your eyes roll, the map of delight in the details of your face. There's a shine about you, so special in his eyes, the single memory he wishes to die with. 

Eventually, the world starts to come back, timelapse setting back to real world time, exhausted pants occupying the air. Sunghoon doesn't know what to think or how to feel, his body on auto-pilot as he falls on his ass opposite you, head hanging off the couch's arm. Weak arms haul you onto the opposite end, limbs tangled like the web of lies you'll continue to weave, tonight only the beginning.

According to the internet, any sex involving the exchange or contact of blood binds two souls together, their fate forever sealed in time. A hoax to some, but an inkling of truth to Sunghoon as he tries to pick up the pieces of that night.

By the grace of a higher power, you two don't get caught, lost in a trance of kisses until the Uber honks outside his house. Sunghoon sleeps on the couch, at least having the heart not to slip into the bed you spoke of defiling, girlfriend none the wiser. Jake wakes him up not much later, holding a store-bought cake he insists on Sunghoon help icing with the word virgin crossed out. When the man of the hour finally comes downstairs─Sieun already having left─party poppers and horns go off, celebratory claps earning Heeseung's hand over his heart, smile the widest they've seen.

Songyi comes down after Heeseung embellishes his story, draped in articles of Sunghoon's clothing. He wonders what you'd look like in the same outfit. 

A lot of his thoughts trace back to you, in fact. Not made any better by the onslaught of texts you exchange throughout the day, Songyi picking up most of Sunghoon's slack when he's meant to be cleaning. No regret is mentioned, only the desire to see each other again. 

Sunghoon's never felt so alive.

Unfortunately, your arrangement has a bit of a slow start. Rarely do you see each other in the following weeks, handcuffed to study desks and library tables as exams take a toll of the student population. It's always torture, but a special kind this time because in the facade of his life, Sunghoon has little time to see you. The most he gets is is the odd day in the library, sat tables away from where you work with friends, grabbing your ass when you pass by.

However, when Sunghoon walks out the hall of his last exam, he waves to his classmates and beelines to your house where you tangle in sheets stained with deceit. Days later, when all the guys are finished their exams, bar names are thrown around as a means of celebration. 

To no one's surprise, they end up at the Falcon.

Twenty minutes before rush hour, few souls dot about, the guys lucking out with no queues. You're working tonight, the same scene bringing about shared looks amongst their group. Unfazed, Sunghoon approaches the bar in a confident strut, a knee-knocking smoulder presented to your beaming figure.

"What can I get you, gentlemen?" you bite back a grin, drying off the last few pint glasses.

The guys list their orders, not subtle with cast looks over to Sunghoon. He doesn't buckle like he used to, a calm front maintained as he places his order last.

His elbow braces against the wooden bar-top, a playful arch to his eyebrows. "How about a friendly discount?"

You're picking out their glasses, shaking your head with a chuckle.

"No can do. My boss is onto me," your cheeks bunch up in the smile you can't hide. "The best I can do is this,"

In real time, the guys witness Sunghoon and you lean into each other, quick lock of the lips blowing their heads right off. Sunghoon pulls away, nipping at your bottom lip, mischief in your features as you add on. "Grab a seat. I'll come over with those drinks."

Without a hitch, Sunghoon leads the way to their corner table of the bar, the pool table occupied again. The ongoing game is the least of Jay's concerns, his and the rest of the guys bewildered stares boring into Sunghoon's skull.

"What the hell was that?" Heeseung ventures first.

"Aren't you with, what's her face?" Jay says, snapping his fingers with nothing to show for it.

"Songyi." supplies Jake, a dirty knit to his face. "You cheating on her?"

Their longtime friend doesn't elaborate, not bothering with words as Sunghoon fishes his phone out from his pocket. After a few careless swipes, his phone is pushed to the centre of the table, his three roommates leaned in to read the tragic texts.

Sunghoon: I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore.

Sunghoon: There's someone else.

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ceo!tobio who owns a collection of fancy watches, all gifted to him by investors hoping to buy a few more shares of the company from him, but he never wears them. instead, he keeps the dinged up old watch his grandfather gave him, cleans it meticulously, gets it polished and fixed up as often as he can spare, only ever entrusting it to you, his secretary, to handle it but with strict instructions to let no one else touch it, and to make sure that the horologist cleans/repairs it in front of you so they don't mess with it, no matter how many times you've assured him that no one's going to try and steal an old, no-name watch from him when he's got a whole drawer full of patek philips at home.

ceo!tobio who's really not great at social functions and is terrible with names, so he brings you to every event as his date, if only so you can whisper the names and titles of the people he's about to meet into his ear right before he meets them, who keeps you so close to him that rumors start to spread about the pair of you, but doesn't bat an eyelash when people ask him about it, telling them in no uncertain terms that his private life, and yours, is none of their damn business, and that if they don't keep their noses out of it, they can say goodbye to whatever business they might've wanted to do with him and his company.

ceo!tobio who apologizes for staying so late sometimes and keeping you there with him, who offers to order whatever you want for dinner on the company card, but you end up having taco bell on the floor of his massive office, sitting cross-legged like a pair of teens at the park, him leaning back against his work desk, watching you with soft eyes as you tell him about the meetings he has tomorrow, who they're with, and the agendas you'd drawn up. he tells you he doesn't know what he'd do without you, and his voice is so honest that for a second you don't know what to say except to tell him that he doesn't have to worry about that for a while yet since you're not planning on going anywhere.

ceo!tobio who knows about the strict company policy on fraternization and kind of agonizes over it bc he's pretty sure whatever the hell he's feeling for you isn't just platonic, but he has your career to worry about -- he knew what he was getting into when he took over for his grandfather, but he doesn't want to drag you into the mess as well, and he thinks it might be better to nip it in the bud, but when he tries, you glare at him and say that he's being childish and is just using this as a scapegoat for not facing his feelings, and he knows you're right but he doesn't know what to do about it until you remind him, much more gently this time, that as the ceo, he does in fact have the power to change the specific wording of the fraternization policy to allow for relationships as long as work boundaries remain professional and there are no direct conflicts of interest.

ceo!tobio who doesn't know how he'd manage without you and trusts you more than he trusts himself, but he doesn't want to be the kind of ceo who bends the rules to suit his own wants and needs so he takes it to the board and gets it pushed through properly, and when it finally comes out that you two are kind of a thing... no one is rly surprised, bc c'mon anyone with eyes could've seen the way he was looking at you, and you back at him. did he think he was being discreet?

but ceo!tobio who tells you whole-heartedly that he'll take care of you if you don't want to be his secretary anymore, and that you'll be impossible to replace, but it's equally impossible for him to get rid of the thought of you and him living together, of him coming home to you every day, of him waking up to you every morning, so if you'll let him... he'd love to give you his everything for the rest of his life, all you have to do is say the word.

tagging tobio nation: @hiraethwa @hiraethwrote @yogurtkags @mcdonaldsnumberone

you shift in, knees sliding between his, the mattress dipping under your weight until there’s barely an inch between you. you can feel his breath now. see the darker flecks in his eyes.

he opens his mouth like he’s going to show you the metal again, and instead, he leans in and kisses you.

a startled little noise slips out of you, caught between your mouths, but it dissolves fast. your fingers clutch at his shirt on reflex, and when you don’t pull away, he presses in another fraction, deepening it.

you feel it then—the slick stroke of his tongue against yours, the cool bump of metal in the middle of all that heat. it scrapes lightly against the roof of your mouth, rolls under your tongue, taps the back of your teeth as he tilts his head.

your whole body shivers.

megumi makes a low sound in his chest when he feels it. his hand slides from your neck down, over your shoulder, then around to the back of your thigh. his fingers sneak under your skirt, finding bare skin.

you gasp into his mouth at the contrast—cool barbell, hot hand—and he swallows the sound, tongue pushing a little more confidently against yours.

“good?” he mutters against your lips, barely breaking the kiss.

“yeah,” you breathe. “feels nice.”

“figured,” he says, and you can hear the smirk.

he palms higher under your skirt, big hand bracketing the curve of your ass now, tugging you closer until you’re properly straddling his thigh. his other hand finds your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, thumb stroking the warm strip of skin.

the barbell rolls with every slow sweep of his tongue, a tiny shock each time it catches a new spot in your mouth. you tilt your head to chase more, and he huffs a tiny laugh against you.

eventually your lungs protest. you pull back a little, panting. his eyes open, dark and blown, lips slick and slightly parted.

“you happy now?” he asks, voice rougher than before.

“shut up,” you say, but your hand is already fisting in the front of his clothing, pulling him back down.

this time, when his mouth leaves yours, it’s on purpose. he drags his lips along your jaw, then down, tongue following. the piercing is a cool little pressure every time he licks at your skin—under your ear, along the line of your throat, over your racing pulse.

you tip your head back without him asking. “megumi—”

“mm?” he hums against your neck.

“you’re... kinda good at this,” you manage.

he exhales a small laugh against your skin. “told you it wasn’t a bad idea.”

his hand under your skirt tightens on your ass, thumb digging in just enough to make you rock, just enough to make you aware of the growing heat between your legs and the solid flex of his thigh under you. his other hand skims up your side, knuckles brushing the side of your breast through your shirt, like he’s testing what you’ll let him get away with.

you don’t stop him.

his mouth continues its slow path down, tongue and piercing catching on every little dip and ridge of your collarbones. “lift your arms,” he murmurs, already tugging at the hem of your shirt.

he peels it up and off in one smooth motion, tossing it blindly toward his desk. the cool air hits your bare skin, but his gaze hits harder—quick scan down, then back up to your face, like he’s forcing himself not to stare.

“okay?” he asks.

“megumi, if you stop now, i’m failing on purpose,” you say.

his mouth twitches. “that is not how i thought you’d weaponise academic threats,” he mutters, but his voice is lower, edged with something warm.

he leans in again, kisses the top of your chest, right in the centre, then drags his tongue down. the barbell bumps over the swell of your breast, slides into the valley between them, then loops under the edge of your bra cup, tracing the soft underside.

you arch before you can stop yourself.

he hums and does it again, slower, letting the metal scrape lightly against sensitive skin this time. his hand splayed wide on your back pulls you in, pressing your chest closer to his mouth so he can mouth at you through the fabric, teeth and tongue, and cold little bead making everything ache.

he eases you back, guiding you down onto the mattress with a firm hand between your shoulder blades. he shifts, kneeling between your legs now, hands sliding up the backs of your thighs, pushing your knees apart.

his eyes drag down, over the soft cling of your panties, the damp patch already starting to show.

“you’re wet,” he says quietly.

“you’re between my legs,” you shoot back, trying for flippant and failing. “use context clues.”

the corner of his mouth kicks up. “i am,” he says, and then he bends his head.

he noses along the seam of your panties where they meet your thigh, breathing you in, letting his lips brush the edge of the fabric. you feel the warm puff of air, the faint drag of his mouth.

then his tongue presses against you through the cotton. the metal bar catches right over your clit, a sudden, blunt little nudge that makes your whole body jolt.

“fuck,” you gasp, hips twitching.

his fingers tighten on your thighs, holding you open. he does it again, slower this time, rolling the barbell over your clothed clit in a lazy back-and-forth that has your pussy fluttering around nothing.

he looks up at you from between your legs, hair messy, mouth pressed to the wet spot on your panties.

“yeah,” he says, voice gone low and pleased. “think this is gonna help your focus a lot.”

his brain buffers just long enough for you to get your mouth back on his. he makes this little huff that turns into a moan when you suck gently on his tongue.

his fingers push higher under your shorts now, big hands spanning the curve of your ass, dragging you more firmly into his lap. heat flares when you feel a solid shape under you, the press of his cock starting to fill out his sweats.

he breaks the kiss with a gasp, eyes squeezed shut for a second. “okay,” he says, breathing hard, “okay, hang on. we gotta—” he swallows, looks up at you, gaze flicking between your eyes and your mouth. “you’re… really worked up.”

“no shit,” you breathe. everything feels too much—his hands, his mouth, the way every tiny shift makes your panties drag across your soaked pussy. “you’re not helping.”

“what did i do?” he protests. “i was literally just sitting here.”

you want to laugh. you want to cry. you want to ride him until you stop shaking.

instead, you grab one of his hands and drag it higher, shoving his palm under the hem of your shirt and pressing it flat against your sternum so he can feel how hard your heart’s pounding.

his eyes go soft and wide at the same time. “hey,” he says, quieter, hand sliding down to the side of your ribs. “seriously. are you okay? did something happen?”

“yeah,” you say, and your laugh comes out thin. “you fed me sex chocolate, apparently.”

his brows knit. “what?”

you jerk your chin toward the abandoned box on the comforter, lid half open. “label, yuuji. maybe read it next time.”

he twists just enough to snag it, squinting at the tiny lettering. “oh my god, i’m gonna kill fushiguro... for couples only?” he reads under his breath, then louder, panicked, “aphro— aphrodisiac content?!”

you let your forehead drop to his shoulder with a groan. “yeah… no kidding.”

he slaps the lid back on like that’s going to stop anything. “i only had one,” he mutters, more to himself. “you inhaled, like, four. shit.”

he sets the box aside carefully, then his hands are right back on you, one at the small of your back, the other cupping the back of your head.

“okay,” he says. “i’m really sorry, i swear i didn’t know. we can just… chill. i’ll get you water, we can put on something boring, i’ll go sit on the floor or something—”

you drag your face up off his shoulder, breathing hard. his concern makes something warm unfurl under all the frantic need, but it doesn’t take the edge off. “i don’t want water,” you say, and your voice comes out rough, desperate. “it’s not going away.”

his jaw flexes. you can tell he believes you—his gaze keeps dipping to your mouth like his own self-control’s hanging by a thread. “still,” he says, stubborn. “i don’t wanna… take advantage. you’re all—” he gestures vaguely at your whole body, ears pink. “blame fushiguro, not me.”

you stare at him. at the way his grip says he’s two seconds from yanking you back down if you move. the heat pulses between your legs again, almost painful now.

something snaps.

“yuuji,” you say, and your own bluntness surprises you. “if you don’t fuck me, i’m actually going to lose my mind.”

the room goes very, very quiet.

“you can’t—” he starts, voice cracking.

you grab his wrist. before he can pull back, you drag his hand down—over your stomach, to the waistband of your shorts. his fingers flex like he’s going to stop you, but you push anyway, sliding his hand under the elastic and pressing his palm down, right where the ache is worst.

and god, you’re soaked. your whole body jolts just from the contact.

his breath punches out of him—his eyes go wide, and you feel his hand go rigid, fingers trembling just a little as he realises exactly how worked up you are.

“see?” you whisper, and your voice sounds wrecked, even to you. “it hurts, yuuji.”

you rock into his hand, chasing that little pressure. his throat bobs. he curls his fingers just the slightest bit, not really touching you properly, but enough to make your hips jerk.

“shit,” he breathes. his hand starts to move on instinct, and then he snatches it back like he’s been burned, dragging it out of your shorts and pressing the heel of it to his own forehead.

“okay, okay,” he mutters, like he’s talking himself down. “you’re really turned on, i get it, but this is the chocolate talking, and i don’t wanna do something you’re gonna freak out about tomorrow.”

you slide off his lap. for half a second, he looks relieved—until you hook your thumbs into your shorts and shove them down, panties and all, stepping out and kicking them toward the side of the bed.

he makes a sound you’ve never heard from him before, somewhere between a gasp and a swear. you crawl right back into his lap, bare now, thighs bracketing his hips. the fabric of his sweats drags against your skin, and you shiver, nails catching on his shoulders.

“i’m not gonna freak out,” you say, breathing hard. “i can’t… i can’t turn this off. and you’re my best friend.” you lean in, nose bumping his. “help me. please.”

that last word lands. his hands find your waist again, fingers digging in. you can feel him under you now, properly—thick and getting harder by the second, trapped under soft cotton.

“you can’t use the ‘best friend’ card on this,” he says, but it sounds weak, already surrendered. “that’s cheating.”

“so cheat back,” you say, and then you’re kissing him again. this time, he doesn’t hesitate.

he meets you halfway, mouth hot and eager, one hand sliding up your spine to the back of your neck, holding you there. the kiss turns messy fast—teeth grazing, tongues tangling, both of you breathing too hard through your noses because neither of you wants to pull away. there’s a wet little sound when your mouths part for half a second, a thin line of spit catching before you chase it back down, licking into him like you can drown the ache that way.

“you’re killing me,” he mumbles against your lips, but his hands are already moving—one staying on your neck, the other dragging down, over the curve of your ass, gripping bare skin.

you reach between you with shaking fingers, fumbling with the waistband of his sweats. he lifts his hips just enough to help you shove them down, and you finally wrap your hand around him.

he groans into your mouth, the sound wrecked and helpless. his forehead pressed to yours, eyes squeezed shut, like that simple touch almost undid him.

“you’re not making rational choices right now,” he says, even as his hips tip into your grip. “we should… we should at least think about this for, like, ten seconds.”

you stroke him slowly, feeling his cock pulse in your hand, feeling the way his breath stutters with every pass.

“i’ve been thinking about it,” you shoot back. “and all it’s doing is making it worse.”

“you’re sure?” he asks. “if we do this, you don’t get to pretend it never happened.”

your chest squeezes, something hot and fond threading through all the need. “i don’t want to pretend,” you say. “i want you to fuck me until this stops hurting.”

he swallows hard. then something in him just… lets go.

“okay,” he says, voice rough. “i’ve got you, just— gimme a second.”

you blink as he lifts you clean off his lap, palms under your thighs, and sets you down on the mattress. your whole body protests, reaching for him even as he’s leaning over the side of the bed, yanking his nightstand drawer open.

there’s some clattering, a muttered curse, then the soft rip of foil.

“i’m not knocking you up over chocolates,” he mutters, a little breathless, holding up the condom without quite looking at you. “i like you, but i’m not insane.”

your laugh comes out shaky. “debatable.”

“yeah, well,” he says, cheeks pink as he tears the wrapper. “humour me.”

he shoves his sweats off completely, cock bouncing up against his stomach—thick, flushed, a bead of pre caught at the tip. the sight makes your pussy clench around nothing.

he rolls the condom on with quick, practised fingers, then pats his thigh. “c’mere,” he says, eyes finally meeting yours. “before either of us starts thinking too hard.”

you scramble back into his lap, knees bracketing his hips, bare thighs sliding against the warm skin of his. his hands settle on your waist, thumbs rubbing little circles into your sides like he’s trying to calm you down and hold himself together at the same time.

“last chance,” he murmurs. “if you’re not sure—”

“i am,” you cut in. “i need it, yuuji. please.”

something flickers across his face at that—heat, helplessness, a tiny bit of pride—he nods once. “okay.”

you reach between you, fingers wrapping around him, sliding the tip through your slick folds. “fuck,” he breathes. “you’re… so wet.”

“wonder why,” you mumble, lining him up.

you sink down slow, and it’s a lot—thick stretch, pressure that knocks the air right out of your lungs. your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging in.

“breathe,” he mutters, forehead bumping yours. “little more. you got it.”

you exhale shakily and let yourself drop the last inch. your thighs meet his, your pussy fluttering around him, stuffed full in a way that borders on too much but hits right where that ache has been screaming.

“holy shit,” he gasps. “you’re so… tight—”

you sit there for a second, both of you just trying to adjust. then you rock your hips—just a tiny shift. “hey— hey, warning,” he croaks, fingers spasming on your waist.

you huff a little laugh and do it again. the drag of him inside you sends a hot pulse right through your core, the tension you’ve been drowning in finally starting to unwind, replaced with something sharper.

you find a rhythm—shallow lifts, slow slides back down—using his shoulders for balance. every time you move, the ache eases, morphs into heat that makes your toes curl. yuuji’s watching you like he’s hypnotised, eyes flicking from your face to where you’re taking him and back up again.

“yeah,” he pants. “just like that. that’s… fuck, that’s so good.”

his hands roam—up your back, down to your ass, squeezing, guiding, dragging you down a little harder when you start to wobble. you’re still strung tight, still buzzing, but the edge stops feeling unbearable and starts feeling close.

and then your thighs start to shake, and he notices immediately. “hey,” he murmurs, thumb stroking over the dip of your spine. “let me.”

before you can protest, he taps your thigh twice, and you let him help you up, cock sliding out in a slick pull that has you both groaning. he lays you back, one hand behind your shoulder, the other cradling your hip.

he moves between your knees in a heartbeat, dragging your hips closer to him. his hands push your thighs apart, and he just… looks for a second—at the mess, at how swollen and shiny you are.

he drags the head of his cock through your slick once, watching it catch on your entrance, then presses in. the angle from above feels different—you whine, fingers clawing at the sheets as he sinks all the way to the hilt, pelvis flush to yours.

“fuck,” he groans, head dropping, arms braced by your shoulders. “you’re hugging me. i can feel every little squeeze.”

“move,” you breathe, voice breaking. “please.”

“yeah,” he says, and starts to. he pulls out slow, letting you feel the drag of every ridge, then pushes back in with a steady, deliberate thrust that makes your vision blur. his pace builds bit by bit, not rough, but not gentle either—just solid, deep strokes that land exactly where you need them.

one of his hands slides under your knee, lifting your leg. he hooks it around his waist, holding it there. the new angle has his cock nudging the spot that makes your mouth drop open on a silent sound.

“there it is,” he pants, hips stuttering. “right there, yeah?”

you nod, useless, nails biting into his shoulders. your pussy keeps clenching around him, grabbing every time he hits that spot. “god, you’re squeezing,” he groans.

“keep going,” you manage. “don’t stop.”

he laughs, short and breathless. “bossy when you’re horny, huh?”

you dig your heel into his back in answer. he swears under his breath and leans down, catching your mouth in a kiss—both of you panting into each other. spit slicks your lips, more breath and sound than any kind of technique.

“you still hurting?” he manages, words muffled against your mouth.

“no,” you mumble. “just— feel like i’m gonna explode.”

“yeah?” he whispers. “that's one way to put it.”

his hand slips from under your knee to between your bodies. his thumb finds your clit, pressing in tight little circles that match the rhythm of his hips. the mix of deep strokes and sharp, insistent pressure is too much, especially stacked on top of everything that’s been burning through your veins.

your orgasm hits like a punch—sharp and electric, ripping a raw cry from your throat. your whole body bows, spine arching off the mattress, thigh tightening where it’s still hooked over his waist. your pussy clamps down around him in desperate, fluttering pulses.

yuuji’s curse tears out of him, broken. “oh, fuck— fuck, i can feel that, holy—” his rhythm falls apart, hips driving in fast and a little clumsy now, chasing the edge as you throb around him.

“shit— shit shit— i’m gonna—” he gasps, jaw clenched, eyes screwed shut.

he slams in one last time, burying himself as deep as he can, and cums with a rough, strangled groan, forehead dropping to your shoulder. his cock pulses inside you, warmth spilling thick into the condom as his whole body shudders. his fingers dig into your hip, holding you right there through every twitch.

for a moment, all you can hear is breathing—his, yours, both ragged and uneven. he stays where he is, chest pressed to yours, still inside you, not quite ready to move.

eventually he exhales, long and shaky, and eases out with a slow, careful drag that makes you both wince. you feel oddly empty without him. he deals with the condom quickly, tossing it into the bin, then flops down beside you, arm hooking under your neck to drag you into his side.

you’re still buzzing, skin hot, the phantom throb of the chocolates still flickering low in your stomach. the orgasm took the edge off, but it didn’t burn it out—it just settled into something slower, deeper, a nagging, molten ache that refuses to let go.

yuuji’s chest rises and falls under your cheek, his heartbeat gradually slowing. “you alive?” he asks quietly, voice rough, thumb drawing lazy shapes over your shoulder. you hum, eyes half-lidded, but your thighs press together.

he notices. of course he does. “hey,” he says, a little more alert now. “you okay now?”

you swallow, heat licking back up your spine as another pulse rolls through your core, embarrassingly strong for someone who just came that hard.

“…yuuji,” you murmur, fingers tightening in his shirt. “i think i still need more.”

he didn’t realise you were already here waiting for him to get home and his whole expression softens immediately

“hi,” he says, walking over and stealing a quick kiss before you can even say something or tease him about the shower thing, “i’m gonna wash up first”

you giggle softly, squinting at him, “of course you are”

it’s an inside joke at this point.

the legendary hour-long showers

the mysterious disappearance in the bathroom

his members swear he’s in there solving world hunger or composing symphonies instead of just… showering like a normal human being

he leans down slightly, voice lowering just for you to hear, “you could come with me, you know”

you chuckle, “no thanks”

he shrugs, unbothered, lips curving in a small smirk, “we can spend time together, multitask”

“multitask?” you repeat, laughing at how satisfied he looks with himself

“quality time,” he corrects smoothly, “it’s.. efficient”

woojin, who was busy doing something on his laptop, most likely editing a new vid, says; “stop flirting and just go already”

ohyul rolls his eyes, throwing the closest pillow he could find towards the guy

and then looks back at you, a playful glint in his eyes, “rock, paper, scissors. if i win, you at least consider it”

“consider it?” you echo

“yeah, seriously consider it”

you narrow your eyes but hold out your hand anyway, not being able to hide the little smile on your face, “fine”

“rock, paper, scissors-”

he wins.

of course he wins

and he looks insanely pleased with himself, “see? it’s fate”

“you rigged that,” you accuse jokingly

“i did not-“ he defends, “i win,”

“mhhhm” you hum to yourself, pretending to think,

he starts backing toward the hallway, not breaking eye contact, “door’s unlocked. just saying”

and before you could say anything, he’s already gone, disappearing into the bathroom

and not even a minute later, the sound of the shower starting fills the dorm

you flop back against the couch, ryul laughs and shakes his head, “don’t fall for it, he’s gonna be in there forever”

you sigh to yourself, getting comfortable on the couch

“i’ll just hang out with ryul in the meantime,” you announce loudly

loud enough for your bf to hear

“i heard that!!” he yelled from down the hall, making you and ryul laugh

not even five minutes pass before your phone lights up

ohyul’s calling

you stare at it, before you turn your head to look towards the bathroom door that is literally one wall away

“he has serious distancing issues” ryul laughs, “he’s not even 10 minutes into his.. whatever he’s doing”

you laugh, but answered anyway, “what?”

“hi,” he says, like he’s not literally calling you from inside the shower, you can hear the water running in the background, “can you come here for a sec?”

“..you could have literally called my name”

“yeah but this feels more dramatic”

you sigh and get up, padding down the hall and when you open the bathroom door, steam rolls out immediately, warm and thick, fogging up the bathroom mirror

“what do you need?” you ask, the heat in the room slapping you in the face

he peeks his head out from behind the shower curtain, his hair already damp, water running down his shoulders, that stupid, smug smile on his face

and you can’t lie, he looks unfairly good

annoyingly good..

“i forgot my body wash,” he admits, sheepishly

you blink at him, “what?”

“it’s on my desk,” he says defensively, “i cleaned and organised everything”

“that’s a first”

“hey!”

you roll your eyes at him before turning around

you grab the bottle from his room and come back, holding it out to him without stepping too far inside

he doesn’t take it from your hand immediately

instead, he looks at you through the steam, eyes slow and knowing

“you’re already here now,” he says, a small smirk on his face

“don’t”

“it’s warm”

“ohyul”

“baby”

“no.”

“we could save water,” he adds helpfully, as if he just found the solution for his own needs

you laugh, “you take hour long showers, i don’t think you care about saving water”

he groans in defeat, reaching out as if he was going to take the bottle, but instead his fingers linger around your wrist,

holding you

not tight, just enough

“please stay,” he says, softer now, almost pleading, his eyes glazed over

you hesitate for a sec, sighing to yourself

he steps a little closer, still mostly hidden behind the curtain, but close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him now

there’s water droplets sliding down his jaw and chest and he tilts his head slightly, looking at you

really looking at you

“i missed you all day,” he murmurs, a slight pout on his lips as he speaks, “and then i finally see you and you hang out with ryul instead”

“you abandoned me for your shower,” you remind him, laughing quietly

“i invited you,” he defends himself, “i even won rock paper scissors”

you shake your head, giggling at his pouty smile but you don’t pull your hand away

he leans in just enough to press a quick, wet kiss to your knuckles, smirking when you inhale sharply,

“come on,” he says again, voice low but playful, “at least keep me company”

“is he still negotiating!?” ryul yells from the living room

ohyul groans, “ignore him”

you glance toward the door and then back at him

steam curls around both of you now

his fingers are still loosely wrapped around your wrist, his thumb now brushing soft circles against your skin like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it

you swallow, rolling your eyes playfully

“i can’t with you,” you say, chuckling, but it comes out quieter this time

he looks at you like he already knows that, like he knows you’re not actually leaving

his thumb slows before stops moving completely, pressing a little more intentionally against your skin

“and yet you’re still standing here,” he murmurs, more like he was stating a fact

you huff a laugh, trying to keep your composure, “i came to drop off your body wash”

“mm,” he hums, stepping just a fraction closer, close enough that the warmth from the shower hugs around you like a warm blanket, “well, you did, and now you can stay”

you should step back

you really should

but instead, your hand shifts from his wrist to his chest, to push him away

but you don’t put much effort into it, not fully convinced by your own intentions

he catches your waist easily with his free hand, steadying you before you can pretend to escape and run off again

“you’re wasting your shower time,” you mutter, more like a reminder to yourself than to him

“i know,” he says, smiling in that slow, smug way that lowkey makes you want to shove him away and kiss him at the same time, “actually you’re wasting it, you could’ve been in here all this time already”

you try to roll your eyes again, but it doesn’t quite land the way you intended it

you can feel the steamy warmth from his hand on your skin

“cmon baby” he pouts again

his gaze drops to your lips, then back to your eyes

unhurried, confident but eager at the same time, like he’s giving you one last chance to pull away

even though he already knows you won’t

and before you can rethink your decision

he smirks to himself, pulling you closer by your wrist until your clothed body touched his bare chest,

leaning down to press a warm kiss to your lips

it was gentle at first, a little teasing but still soft

but when you kiss him back, your hand coming up to brush back his damp hair, he can only smile into the kiss, his hand tightens slightly at your waist like he’s won something

his lips move against yours like he’s been waiting for this all day (which he basically did) and you barely have any time to react before he deepens it, tilting his head, drawing you closer until there was no space between you anymore

he hums against your mouth, pleased, as if he knew you’d melt like that

the kiss grows warmer, heavier and more charged soon enough, every brush of his lips on yours feels intentional, every pause only long enough for you to chase him

somewhere in the dorm, a door slams in the background, “is he still in there?!” you can hear louis yell

ohyul only pulls back far enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours, his lips smiling like he’s still amused by the whole thing, “they can wait,” he murmurs, like it’s the simplest decision in the world

and you don’t move

you don’t step back

you don’t even pretend you’re leaving this time

and he notices, of course he does

his smile softens into something more satisfied, more certain, his hand sliding from your waist to the edge of the shower curtain

his fingers curl around the edge of the curtain, pulling it back just enough for the warmth to escape

steam wraps around you two, thick and close, the air charged in that quiet way that makes your pulse feel louder than it should

you still hesitate for half a sec, just a moment, but long enough for him to notice

he lifts his eyebrows, amused, “what?” he murmurs, “you really thought you were just dropping something off?” he smirks

you roll your eyes, but you’re already stepping closer without thinking

he shifts a little to make room as he watches you undress yourself

and when you finally stepped into the shower with him, his hand immediately comes to your waist, pulling you closer with that same smug smile, this time just a little more confident

the water hits his shoulders, running down his chest, and you try very hard not to stare

but before you can, he leans in again, brushing his lips against yours

there’s no slow build this time, but he doesn’t rush it either

one of his hand comes up to your jaw, his thumb pressing lightly beneath your chin, tilting your head up to his.

his lips move against yours with quiet certainty, there’s no hesitation

his other thumb traces a lazy line along your hip, and when you melt into him without protest, he lets out a quiet, satisfied hum

he draws you in until your back meets the tiles on the wall, his body closing the space just enough to make it clear you’re not going anywhere

somewhere in the background, you can hear someone groan loudly, you weren’t even sure who it was at this point, “can he hurry-“

“i don’t think he’ll be out anytime soon bro” ryul snickered, knowing damn well what was happening

ohyul barely breaks the kiss, completely ignoring his members on the other side of the door, just enough to murmur against your mouth, “guess i win twice tonight”

his grin turns slightly wicked, amused as his eyes were glinting through the steam

you chuckle, “the first time was just luck”

he opens his mouth to argue back, but before he could you added; “look who’s wasting time now”

he lets out a soft, defeated laugh, “good thing i take long showers”

he pulls you almost impossibly closer, letting the steam swallow the space between you

and his smile only deepends like he knows exactly how this will end

and so do you

…and ryul (hehe)