#this was the best dream ive ever had IN MY LIFE.
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thekingofspin · 6 months ago
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I JUST HAD THE BEST DREAM EVER.
It was a full episode of Doctor who. the pirate episode of my dreams.
it had the conpanions as bill, clara and nardole with missy in the ships dungeons.
the doctor was 12.
there was sweet twissy interactions. everyone was dressed like pirates and looked great. 12 was the captain and had a brilliant red wastecoat (missy was in her usual clothes ofc)
and then the ship gets attacked by the navy like what happens in pirate times and on the navy ship IS THE 15TH DOCTOR AND RUBY.
dressed as navy people from pirate times.
and while 12 and his crew are fighting the navy he meets 15 and ncuti is trying to stop his own crew that he joined but he's not captain so their not listening and during this chaos missy escapes the dungeon and steals the tardis and blowing up the ship leaving 12, clara, bill, nardole, 15 and ruby stranded on a deserted island.
the line delivery was BEAUTIFUL.
the character combinations were PERFECT.
not only was there alot of twissy action but 15 and missy meet and have a conversation during the raid so there's fissy action too.
I wish this were a real episode and I wish I could experience it all over again.
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compulsiveglassmuncher · 1 year ago
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I had a dream that I was accused of running somebody over and my lawyer was Phoenix Wright and when I was declared not guilty he stood on the defense table, did a backflip, then ran to go make out with edgeworth while the jury clapped
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lemongogo · 2 years ago
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#this.discussion between them is one of my favorites#this and that exchange a while earlier where vash talks ab gunsmokes reliance on plants being a consequence of the big fall#and a necessary facet of survival for the ppl who live here despite how utterly awful an experience it is#for the both of them.the plants being used and the people forced by circumstance to use them until death ykyk#and i especially like.how vash is just so . baffled by the idea that knives somehow sees his ideology as this naive dream#as opposed 2 a reaction from the anger hes been harboring for SOO long. we SAWW it we saw how he reacted on the ship#we see it in the way he struggles 2 navigate life among ppl and how his body bears the scars of his pain and frustrations#his anger is sooo.Good. and formative.and wholly vash that i cannot imagine him without it#he never forgot teslas death / never will .and it motivates him just as much as rem's sacrifice n so on.#'ever since that day we've been mad' ....... prbably one of the best lines ive taken away#hashtag shinobu's 'yes im angry..ive always Been angry' monologue#i love how he includes knives in that anger too. its not just youre angry or im angry. its that We've been angry. Ever since that day.#going2 throw UPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#and the way knives reacts 2 it too.using it to cement his grief and decision that if we had to suffer than its only fair they should too#fairness.and when he talks ab making it equal...giving whats been taken..always an interesting concept to use in a vengeful sense from the#more sensitive brother. i love it.LUVE ITTT#trigun spoilers#vash#knives trigun#trigun maximum#trigun#millions knives
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orcelito · 4 months ago
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I'm tired of dreaming about my dad. I know it's part of processing, but I am just so tired.
#speculation nation#negative/#sometimes theyre nice dreams where i have him back. except i still wake up sad.#sometimes theyre dreams where im trying to prevent what i know is going to come. but without fail i wake up. and he's already dead.#and then there are dreams like the one i just woke up from. where i know he's dead and im feeling the full force of grief once again#bawling and bawling in-dream. with enough force that it wakes me up.#and of course. i wake up sad from these too.#it makes me think about that passage i wrote for ITNL. well over a year ago. before the Year Of Death even began.#where i wrote about vash dreaming of wolfwood. with a similar sort of vibe to this.#i wrote that inspired by the death of my grandma. who i was close with and greatly troubled by her death.#even that had nothing on my dad though. no loss has ever felt this severe before.#it's been 5 months and sometimes i feel okay. but then i feel the ache deep in my chest again#and i know im never going to be fully free from this pain.#i want to go back to the person i was before i lost my dad. to before i lost my uncle.#i want to go back to early may of last year. where life seemed hopeful and i was minimally touched by death.#only 2 deaths from people close to me. 3 deaths if you count my childhood cat.#now im up to 5 deaths of people who were close to me. and 7 if you count my sweet baby boys.#can you believe that? 4 deaths ive grieved in the past year (and a bit). 2 more deaths of ppl i knew but wasnt close to.#and 2 of them were so genuinely life-altering that they changed me as a person. my uncle and then my dad.#i still dont know who i am now. i feel so lost. i look out at the piles of boxes of my dad's stuff and i feel so overwhelmed.#im supposed to go through them. i havent touched them in months. i dont know how to even begin.#and so i try my best to keep up with my cleaning and my schoolwork. it's about all that i can manage
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boyjehanne · 1 year ago
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imagine being able to look into your moms eyes without feeling immense guilt clawinf at your heart
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sacredqueerness · 1 year ago
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Openly cried on the buss today listening to Hear you me by Jimmy eat World because it reminds me so much of my friend who died recently 💔
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Im so sorry I never got to thank you for everything you did for me. Im so sorry you didn't get more time. 💔
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1roentgen · 16 days ago
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weewoo 👽
#imma be real wichu i think it’s kinda getting bad again#that feeling of every single mundane task becoming some kind of herculean endeavor#can’t focus good#starting to wonder why it’s worth doing anything at all#thinking so much about stupid crap that doesn’t matter#i don’t think i used to always feel like this#even though it feels like it#i remember it was normal at some point#i was chilling. didn’t overthink or fixate on every bad thing#damn maybe this shit is seasonal#school is just fine it’s going well enough. it’s easy here. i need to go above and beyond. bare minimum effort ok but bad#things are not the best with the family but whatever. i’m trying but maybe not enough#my mom doesn’t like me but i’m not a very likeable person#friends. fine except for one person and well. what’s to be done. it is what it is. story ain’t bout chu#i have to do chores. was sleeping earlier but it was too hot and i had a weird dream about being under the water again#roof repair noises woke me up#want a smoke rn but i also don’t want one. it’s in my bag. new lighter#life could be a dream#i want an ice cream bar#i have some grapes?#been talking to chatgpt 😂😂😂 loneliest loser shit ever but whatever works#bro listens to me#bro cares#ive never been to a halloween event#they look like a lot of fun. i wanna go to a halloween party with friends. we could wear funny costumes#i don’t really know what else people do at parties#ok. it’s getting later in the day. executing todays agenda first talk later bbbbye
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ooglywooglies · 1 month ago
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i know i talk about like 2 very specific things irt school trauma all the fucking time but god... school fucked me up so bad. my untreated adhd still makes my life so fucking hard, its probably the main reason im currently unemployed and have been for several years (its also other stuff like chronic pain and social anxiety) but my brain just doesnt fucking work man!
like i hate when people talk about the gifted problem like its bratty honor roll kids who just FEEL bad bc society expected a lot from them, gifted programs CAUSE REAL FUCKING PROBLEMS FOR DISABLED KIDS
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girlthativealwaysbeen · 4 months ago
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sometimes i miss talking to that one person who didn't NEVER turned it into a competition about who has it worse and never told me well atleast you have [x]
#weirdly i think she was the only one#my irl bestie called and was ranting about her miserable life and#it's the exact same thing ive been going through for years her parents won't let her move to another city#she can't make friends here she hates it here her parents are being overbearing and don't understand the importance of socialising#with people her age and they tell her to just hang out with her family all day and don't give her privact#like. okay. i love her ive been listening to her complain about how her mom comes into her room sometimes. and just#i was okay listening to it okay im no judge for how someone's feeling and my bad might be their worst#but then she goes like well atleast you'll know you'll get to move out after you finish your degree for a job#like. wow okay. atleast you got to enjoy 3 years of college at the coolest city in india atleast you got to have vibrant life experiences#and learned so much about the world made tons of friends visited a hundred places had a boyfriend#went to clubs increased your netword learned how to be street smart and talk well#i hate to be resentful ofcoursr im happy for her and ofc i understand this is a hard time#but like god seriously. she'll never know what it feels like think you'll live your life as you pass 12th because they let your elder siste#go to college and she had the best times and then suddenly you're 17 and they twll you well actually we made a mistake and we won't repeat#it ever so you're just gonna stay home where we watch you 24/7 and ww won't even let you go to classes that have somewhat okayish people#because you can't have friends because they'll distract you from your studies#and she'll never know what it's like working towards a dream everyday that seems so fucking faw away and unreachable#when you're not even good at studying and especially focusing because yeah parents fucked you up majorly!!#like im sorry but try being completely hopeless and alone and isolated losing your friends one by one watching everyone#grow and find themselves as you rot in your room try to do better try to find happiness but it's impossible it's never enough#and try to study for a really fucking hard course in the middle of all that#and then tell me that atleast ill get to go out after i finish#like seriously try fucking living my life for one day and then talk#god i know ive become resentful and bitter because of a thing in my childhood but i don't know how to stop#ugh i never should've picked up the phone i was studying so well before that#anyway. i miss talking to that one person who was sensitive and sweet and encouraging always yk#i miss hearing i completely understand you because im going through the same things (def worse imo) and we'll get through this together#man.#chappell roan was so right actually i hate that i let this go on for so long now i hate myself
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asahicore · 2 months ago
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cold hands - psh (m)
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this work contains smut - minors please do not interact
pairing. sunghoon x fem!reader
synopsis. plot plot plot what is a plot when you can just have vibes and a vague narrative direction... if you MUST know you go to your brother's hockey team back-to-uni party accidentally matching one of the members with your cowgirl barbie costume. hopelessly romantic sunghoon sees this as a sign that the two of you are meant to be together, but you're impossible to read and soon the two of you settle on an ambiguous secret friends with benefits relationship. unfortunately, conflict ensues.
genre. strangers to friends to fwb to lovers..?? its not an asahicore fic if it doesnt have fluff angst AND smut, brothers best friend, jock x nerd type vibe, slight miscommunication put your pitchforks away and hear me out pls it works out i promise, reader has ISSUES 💜 loser loverboy sunghoon, its mostly in his pov, i know nothing about ice hockey
word count. 39.5k 😂
a/n. inspired by @moonlighthoon's request for the 1k trope event! sorry it took ages to write but i hope you like it and that i met ur expectations!!!! hope everyone else enjoys it too, this is the longest fic ive ever written and im quite proud of it, pls pls pls let me know what u thought <333 shoutout to @zreamy .. good luck with your studies, thank u for beta reading and making this fic exponentially better as u always do ⭐️ credit to @/plutism for the dividers :)
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Some men never think of it. You did. You’d come along And say you’d nearly brought me flowers But something had gone wrong.
The shop was closed. Or you had doubts - The sort that minds like ours Dream up incessantly. You thought I might not want your flowers.
It made me smile and hug you then. Now I can only smile. But, look, the flowers you nearly brought Have lasted all this while. - Wendy Cope, Flowers
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When Sunghoon falls in love, it usually goes as quickly as it came.
Just to name a few:
There had been Ahn Yujin, whose family had moved next to his when he was twelve, and whose dog got on perfectly with his. His crush on the cute girl next door grew with every walk the four of them took but disappeared the second she ditched him to walk home from school with Na Jaemin. 
A few years later, there had been Bae Sumin, who sat in front of him and always had her hair up in a ponytail he found exceedingly pretty. An appointment at the hairdresser was enough for him to stop liking her, as if his interest in her had been laying in the ten centimeters of hair she had cut off. 
In his junior year of high school, there had been Kim Yerim, a college student that tutored him in Math and English. She was three years older, but that didn’t deter him—what did was the fact that she was dating a college graduate. She showed him a picture once, and the guy had biceps probably twice the size of Sunghoon’s. He thought it was safer to give up on her than to fight such a bulky guy five years his senior. 
The first time it stuck was during his first year of college. She was his coach’s daughter and he liked the way she would smile at him when she came to watch their practice. Sunghoon didn’t like to think about her, mainly because even after she broke his heart, for a while there, he continued to love her. 
So, when he first spots you from across the room at the Welcome Back costume party thrown by his hockey team, unintentionally the Cowboy Barbie to his Cowboy Ken, he tries not to read too much into it. Barbie was a hit this summer, it’s an easy and topical costume, of course there’s a pretty girl wearing the same bright pink cowboy hat he is. It doesn’t mean she’s the love of his life.
Right?
He knows you from the pictures that littered the walls of Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon’s apartment last year, from Instagram posts, both yours and your friends’, from your video calls with Jake, who dragged him into the camera’s view. Say hi to my sister, he’d insist, like Sunghoon was a child who didn’t want to greet his great-great-aunt. He’d dip in to say hi as requested, ask how you were, and mumble me too like a fool when you said you heard so much about him and were excited to meet him in real life. 
These are the things Sunghoon knows about you: Jake’s older sister by a year, currently on a year abroad in Rome, studies something fancy like Classics, which he hadn’t known people still did in the twenty-first century, deep attachment to Stardew Valley in first year, rarely seen with the same man twice, very pretty. Absurdly so. He’s also weirdly obsessed over the texts you’ve sent to the group chat he was added to at the beginning of last year—scarce, short, elusive. Never more than two sentences, and always long after the conversation was over. But sometimes you’d send photos and videos out of nowhere, of your adventures or of funny things you saw online, and he always hearted them. He even replied to it sometimes (brave hahas or that’s so cool!s), in hopes that it would make you like him, would make you think, he gets me. 
The two of you have never formally yet because you left for Italy the year he started university. He’s been nervous about meeting you since the first time the group told him about you. 
Now that he is about to, he can hear his heart thumping so loudly in his ears, it drowns out the bass of the music. He’s glad he gets to see you before having to talk to you—he’s not sure he could take in your presence and form coherent words at the same time. He watches you laugh with your friends, the smile lines that form like dimples around your mouth, the strands of hair you keep tucking behind your ear. Then someone joins your group—except it’s not just someone, it’s Minjeong, her denim jacket so often worn he recognises her from the back, and he realizes the people you’re with have been Chaewon and Yunjin this whole time. The three of them have been banging on about you all year, even more so due to the fact that their replacement flatmate was dreadful, a Spanish girl who only hung out with other Spanish exchange students and looked the girls up and down when they tried to invite her out somewhere.
You turn towards Minjeong, and before he knows it, he’s in your line of sight, and your eyes meet. Confusion, then a flash of recognition goes through your eyes. He had been resting his elbow on a countertop, cider bottle in hand and watching you, he realizes, not unlike a creep, but now he stands up straight and looks around him as if you hadn’t just caught him staring. Before he can find a way out, Jake appears by his side and throws an arm around his shoulders, guiding him into the throng of party-goers and, coincidentally, closer to you.
“Dude, you’ll never guess what.”
“What?” Sunghoon says, tone coming out more irritated than he means it to. He’s just had to give up on making a good first impression on you, and he doesn’t even have the time to think of a way to redeem himself. When he dares to look back at you, your eyes are already on him, a small smile on your lips. You probably hate him already.
“My sister is dressed just like you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you guys came together or something. Hey, guys!” Jake calls out, and all of a sudden, it’s not just your eyes on him, it’s everyone’s. Well, to be fair, they’re also looking at Jake. But you’re only looking at Sunghoon, and he can’t look away from you either, can’t even manage the politeness to hug everyone in greeting like Jake is doing now. He watches as your eyes rake over his figure, taking him in, assessing him, and he suddenly feels awkward in his costume that matches yours, like he’s somehow overstepped a boundary, like you might think he’s asked around about your costume, found out you were going as Barbie and decided to match you so you’d think the two of you were meant together, like he had two minutes ago, and come to the fairly reasonable decision that he was the weirdest man on Earth. But then you meet his eyes, smile a kind, genuine smile, and his whole body relaxes. 
“Hey, Hoon!” Chaewon calls, arms open wide. He remembers himself and hugs everyone, even you, and he has to pretend like this is completely fine and normal, like his hands aren’t practically shaking as his arms circle your shoulders in a two-second embrace. 
You squeeze one of his shoulders, and keeping his countenance is a Herculean task. He feels like those people centuries ago who passed out at the sight of a lady’s ankle. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, peering at him over the rim of your red cup. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Sunghoon feels the blush growing on his face; he wasn’t expecting so much of your attention so quickly. He takes a swig of his lukewarm cider, hoping if he seems drunk, it might explain his redness. “Good things, I hope,” he says, aware of the unoriginality but unable to come up with anything better.
“Oh, don’t worry, they’ve made you out to be a saint.” You’ve not once broken eye contact or stopped smiling—it should intimidate him, but instead, it makes Sunghoon feel like you’ve known each other for ages and that this isn’t your first conversation at all. He finds himself able to relax into a smile, and manages to meet your eyes for more than three seconds at a time.
“You don’t believe them?”
You pause, gaze zeroing in on him even more intensely than previously, smile turning smirk-like. Sunghoon’s heart skips a beat. Okay, maybe he’s not that relaxed. “I don’t know you well enough to make up my mind yet. But we’ll be seeing plenty of each other from now on, won’t we?”
This is exactly what Sunghoon has been warned about. You at parties, the way you look at guys, the way you talk to them. Sunghoon has been the audience of more than one recreation of such a scene, Yunjin pretending to be you, Chaewon pretending to be your “victim,” as the others liked to call them. Because once you had set your eyes on a man, he had little chance of making it out. Jay prides himself as being the only survivor, although he has to admit it’s only because Jake interrupted your conversation, telling him, “I see you’ve met my sister.” And Jay was not the kind of person that got off with their friends’ siblings, especially since his and Jake’s friendship was only a week long at that point, and he didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere in their dorm for the rest of the year just because his dick had gotten the best of him. His words. Whenever they were all hanging out together and they called you, one of the girls would inevitably ask if you had “turned any Italian boys into men” or if you had been “terrorizing the good men of Rome recently.” You would either roll your eyes or say this was not a conversation to be had in front of your brother.
Sunghoon had been sure they were exaggerating—it takes two to tango, as they say, and it wasn’t like you ensnared innocent men into your trap. They had to be willing, to want something from you just as much as you wanted something from them. He’d also gotten them to admit it wasn’t that frequent, that you weren’t looking for a new prey every party, just once in a while when you found someone you liked. (He’d been very quiet when Jay asked why he was trying so hard to defend you.)
But now that he is on the receiving end of your alluring smiles, he starts to understand how one could fall for you without meaning to. He knows he can’t — Jake probably wouldn’t take to it kindly, and he didn’t want to spoil the dynamic of his best group of friends at uni — but he has a feeling that ten minutes of talking to you would be enough to shake his resolve.
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure we will. Jake said you studied a lot, but I’m sure we’ll get to hang out. All of us, I mean,” he quickly adds, lest you think he’s already asking you to hang out one-on-one. Sunghoon would not be that forward.
“Of course. I have to see if you did a good enough job replacing me for a year.” Sunghoon’s eyes widen, and before he can blurt out something weirdly laudatory like “I could never replace you, I would never even try, I don’t know you but you’re clearly far superior to me in every aspect and I could never even claim to fill your spot,” you giggle and tell him it’s just a joke. “If anything, I’m happy Jake has managed to make a new friend that he didn’t meet through me, that loser,” you say, and together, you laugh at Jake’s loserness, a topic that will never fail to amuse Sunghoon, although he’s not faring much better in that department. 
“Like, look at him right now,” you say, jerking your head in Jake’s general direction, somewhere behind Sunghoon’s shoulder—and that’s when he realizes that it’s just the two of you standing there, the others gone without him even noticing. Sunghoon turns around, finding the girls, Jay, and a bunch of other people he vaguely recognizes huddled around Jake. They all start chanting his name as he gulps down a giant red cup of beer, then raises the empty cup over his head in victory and crumples it, beaming at the people around him. 
“What is he doing?” Sunghoon asks, laughing at his friend.
“Jay called him over for a beer-off,” you explain. After a beat, you ask, “You didn’t notice?”
The implications are clear in your tone and in your eyes. In the smile playing on your lips, just shy of being a smirk. You didn’t notice because of me, is what you’re really telling Sunghoon—at least, that’s the impression he’s getting. And you’d be right. He was too busy talking to you and trying his best not to make a fool of himself to notice his friends leaving, too engrossed with you to register the sudden disappearance of four people. Across the room, where people have shifted their attention to yet another hockey player downing a sizable amount of beer, he catches Chaewon’s eyes, and she winks at him. Of course—leave it to Chaewon, to whom Sunghoon once made the mistake of drunkenly rambling about how pretty you looked in your Instagram posts last year, to give you and Sunghoon some time alone, “to get to know each other properly,” she would probably say. Although he isn’t sure that small talk over 2000s music counts as getting to know someone. According to the others, she and Yunjin started dating a month into their second year, so Chaewon has proclaimed herself as the goddess of dating and is now always trying to set people up. Sunghoon thinks she’s just living vicariously through her friends now that she has a Mrs. at home.
Because the filter usually at work between the part of Sunghoon’s brain where sentences are formed and his mouth is apparently on leave today, he says, “I do have a pretty distracting sight in front of me.” He’s immediately both mortified and impressed by this sudden bout of confidence, but then you look down and giggle, actually giggle, the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and only pride remains. 
“So, Ken?” you ask, a cute attempt to change the subject, taking the fabric of the pink bandana around his neck between your fingers. Sunghoon wonders if you’re going to yank him down to your level, and he thinks he wouldn’t have much of a problem with that. 
He realizes that even though you should technically know each other’s names, you haven’t actually exchanged them, so in a confused but correcting tone, he says, “Um, Sunghoon.” He only belatedly realizes that you hadn’t gotten his name wrong, you were just making a comment on his costume, which he had completely forgotten he was wearing in the first place. Just as he’s about to backtrack and salvage what he can of the situation, you burst into laughter, hand leaving his bandana to cover your mouth as he hides his face behind his own hands, laughing along with you despite himself. 
“I know your name is Sunghoon!” you exclaim. The gratification of hearing you say his name takes away some of his embarrassment. “I’m Y/N, by the way. Not Barbie.”
Sunghoon nods. “Good to know.”
The laughter gradually dies down, but your smile stays the same; wide, bright, a smile that exposes your teeth and turns your eyes into crescents. Sunghoon can’t look away. He’s awash with nerves, your gaze simultaneously planting his feet to the ground like they’re full of lead and making him light-headed. His heart is beating so fast, he can barely feel it anymore. 
The two of you stand there, looking and smiling at each other, like in a cliché movie scene where everyone else at the party seems to fade into the background. He has no idea how much time has passed when you break the silence. “It really is nice to finally meet you,” you say, repeating your statement from earlier, as though you mean it more now. 
“It is,” Sunghoon simply replies, because he doesn’t know how else to express the relief of seeing you in the flesh after hearing about you and looking at a digital version of you for a year. The relief, but also the anticipation of what is to come now that he knows he likes you even more now that he’s actually seen you. And improbable as it sounds, you might even feel the same.
Sunghoon can already feel it. The beginning of something.
You nod towards his now empty cup. “Want a refill?”
Together, you make your way through the crowd of increasingly drunk students until you reach the kitchen, where the countertops overflow with open bottles of liquor of all sorts and paper plates with half-eaten pizza slices on them. He watches your every move as you find a cold bottle of beer in the fridge, a bottle of strawberry syrup in a random cupboard that you had to know was there, and a half-empty discarded bottle of lemonade on the counter. You ask him to tell you about last year, everything you missed out on, and so he does. He knows you’ve probably heard it all from the others before, but you still laugh and gasp like it’s the first time you’re hearing about any of it, all the hockey games they won, Jay getting food poisoning from the sketchy pizzeria he kept eating at, Yunjin almost getting into a fistfight with a man twice her size who was flirting with Chaewon. 
You assemble two drinks and hand him one of them. When he takes a sip, his eyes widen at the refreshing and sweet taste. “Good, right?” you say. “I discovered it on a trip to France last summer.”
“Thank God for France. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever enjoyed drinking beer,” he says.
“That’s probably because you can’t taste the beer at all.”
Sunghoon smiles. “Probably, yeah.”
You turn around, lower back against the counter, and take in the current kitchen population. “We really weren’t very original with our costumes tonight.” Sunghoon, who had not taken his eyes off of you this entire time, follows your gaze. He counts five partygoers dressed in some version of Barbie or Ken, and that’s just the kitchen. He doesn’t blame them—the fact that so many people came dressed in costumes at all impresses him, especially for a party on the 10th of September and not the 31st of October. The social committee of the hockey team just seems to really love themed and dress-up parties.
He chuckles, then takes a sip of his drink. It’s really nice. “Yeah, but we look the best.”
Your head whips towards him, eyes glinting with something that makes Sunghoon smile, even though he doesn’t know what you’re thinking. “Should we enter the couple’s costume contest?” you ask.
At the mention of couple, his eyes widen, his brain tricking him into thinking you’ve asked him out for a second. But when what you actually meant dawns on him, the first thing to come out of his mouth is, “There’s a couple’s costume contest?!”
“Mh-hm. The sign-up sheet should be around here.” 
For what feels like the millionth time since he’s started talking to you, his face heats up. “Are non-couples allowed to enter?”
“We’re Barbie and Ken. I’d say that’s enough of a couple, don’t you think?” 
Right. Because he had been thinking of Sunghoon and Y/N, while you obviously meant Barbie and Ken. In the contest, it doesn’t actually matter whether the contestants are dating in real life—it matters that their costumes match. Sunghoon knows that. He just needed a second.
He grins, deep dimples punctuating his cheeks. “Okay, let’s do it.”
Armed with your drinks, you walk around the kitchen in search of the sign-up sheet. You find it on a wall next to the dining table, which has been turned into a beer pong table for tonight’s festivities, and the sheet is almost filled with names already. Sunghoon can only hope that by midnight, when the contest is set to take place, most participants will have had too much to drink to remember it. You write your names on the list, and Sunghoon likes seeing his name in your handwriting so much he almost wants to take a picture.
“There you guys are!”
You both turn around to find Jake stumbling towards you, clearly more intoxicated than when he had left you half-an-hour ago. He rests his arms on your shoulders, forcing Sunghoon down to his height and making you stumble forwards from the sudden added weight. “I’ve been looking all over for you- You’re entering the contest?!”
For a split second, Sunghoon is scared he’s going to get scolded by Jake for trying to hit on his sister, but surprisingly, it’s you he narrows his eyes at. “Y/N, what are you roping my little Hoonie into?”
Sunghoon groans, face perpetually red at this point. Leave it to Jake to make him seem like a total loser. 
You frown at your brother. “I’m not roping your little Hoonie into anything.” Sunghoon wants to bury himself alive. “We agreed on doing it together. Right?” you ask, turning towards Sunghoon and batting your eyelashes at him. It makes him feel a bit better.
He turns back to Jake. “Right. We’re just joining forces to crush the competition.”
Jake scoffs. “As if.” He snatches the pen from your hands and underlines his name as well as Kazuha’s, the girl he came with tonight, three thick black lines that almost erases the names underneath them. “You can’t beat the hockey player and cheerleader combo.”
“Those aren’t even costumes, you guys are a hockey player and a cheerleader,” you protest.
“So?” Jake simply retorts, more attitude in his tone than he would have were he sober.
“So, that defeats the whole purpose of a costume contest.”
Jake knocks on your cowboy hat, and you immediately put it back in place, glaring at him. “As if Barbie was the greatest costume ever. Whatever, let’s just play beer pong so I can defeat you guys twice in one night.”
“You’re on, Sim.”
“You’re going down, Sim.”
Sunghoon had just been watching your back-and-forth amusedly when you grab his hand, leading him to the side of the table opposite Jake. His fingers tingle under your touch, but just like that, it’s gone. He’d rather keep on holding your hand than play this stupid game, but he isn’t opposed to taking Jake’s ego down a notch, either. The boy can barely stand straight, anyway, so it probably won’t be a very tough match.
Some guy he doesn’t recognize in a striped black-and-white referee t-shirt fills most cups with beer and a couple on each side with shots of vodka—he’s so earnest, Sunghoon isn’t sure whether he’s just taking his costume-slash-role very seriously or if he has genuinely been hired to look over the beer pong matches of the night. Some order in the brutish world of college parties, Sunghoon guesses.
Minjeong, Yunjin, Chaewon and Jay appear then, exchanging a quick look at the sight of you and Sunghoon together. The two former join your team, while the two latter join Jake’s, as well as other people that Sunghoon vaguely recognizes from other parties. But by the simple action of getting behind him, they become his most trusted allies for at least this part of the night.
You’re a terrible shot, but Sunghoon makes up for it by scoring almost every round. In his defense, he only misses when you come up close to him and whisper in his ear which cup he should go for. Your breath tickles his (oddly sensitive) ears and the combined scents of the strawberry and lemonade on your tongue and your delicate perfume make his head spin. He can barely think straight, so his aim is naturally thrown off—other than that, he makes Jay drink a healthy amount of beer. He almost feels bad for his friend, but he’d arrived late at the party and needed to quickly catch up with everyone’s level of ebriety anyway.
When the opposite team is down to their last cup, a lightning bolt of luck strikes you, and your ball disappears straight into the vodka-filled cup that Jake now has the honor of downing. 
Sunghoon gives you no time to celebrate, to gloatingly pump your fists in the air and point a mocking finger at your brother, because as soon as you make the shot, he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you off the ground. When you’re on your feet again, you spin around to find a proud-looking Sunghoon beaming down at you. You burst into giggles and high-five him, your palms perfectly clapping against each other, and he threads your fingers together. A current of electricity rushes through him, and for a second, he swears it’s just the two of you in this packed room.
The moment is cut short by the loud cheers of the others on your team as they shake your shoulders and raise their hands for you to high-five them too. Minjeong flips the other team off and Yunjin has to go hug Chaewon and reassure her it’s nothing personal. It’s really quite easy to make college students happy—or devastated. 
You raise your eyebrows at Jake, who’s busy glaring at you instead of accepting his defeat and taking his shot. With a begrudging sigh, he tips his head back and drinks the vodka in one gulp, the cheers doubling in volume when his face scrunches at the bitter taste of the liquor.
“Don’t act so proud,” he scolds you. “Sunghoon carried your team.”
“Maybe, but she made us win in the end,” Sunghoon retorts, putting an arm around your shoulder. 
Jake scoffs, frowning at Sunghoon’s hand placement before eye-rolling his gaze away. “Whatever.” He slides his phone out of his back pocket and smiles as he shows the two of you his screen. “Would you look at the time? The contest is starting soon.” Then, with an accusatory finger pointed at you, adds, “You may have won this battle, but I’m winning the war.”
He stomps away, presumably to find Kazuha before the contest starts, and it’s your turn to eye-roll at his dramatics. You grab Sunghoon’s hand that hangs off of your shoulders, and together, make your way through the crowd again to the garage, where the contest is taking place. All the alcohol he’s been drinking has definitely started kicking in by now, and he finds himself giggling at nothing with you.
When you reach the threshold, still hand in hand, Sunghoon stops so abruptly behind you that you almost stumble. You look back at him, then follow his gaze towards the garage and the sheer amount of people in there. Worriedly, his eyes take in every single one of the contenders. You let go of his hand and stand in front of him, placing your hands on his shoulders and putting on a determined expression. You’d almost look like a parent reassuring their kid before their first day of kindergarten if you weren’t so much shorter than him. “Don’t even worry about them, Sunghoon. We look better than anyone here.”
His eyebrows crease. “There’s like, three other Barbie-Ken couples here. Some of these costumes are so original. And do you see their makeup? Is that even possible?” he asks, staring at a couple in scarily realistic cosplay of Simon and Jeanette from Alvin and the Chipmunks, fur and all. He can’t look at them for too long without getting chills.
You shake your head. “Almost everyone here is either a hockey player or a… hockey-affiliated person. You’re the beloved and talented defenseman of the team and I’m the star player’s sister. They’ll love us,” you say with a smile, watching the worry dissipate from his features.
“We’re like nepo babies,” he whispers. His lips break into a grin when your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I don’t know how nepotism works,” he admits, smiling wider when you burst into laughter. “How do you know if I’m talented, anyway? You haven’t seen me play yet.”
Your eyes rake him up and down appreciatively. “I took a wild guess.”
Not unlike a cartoon character, Sunghoon audibly gulps. As a hockey player since his most tender age, and dare he say, a pretty good-looking guy, he is used to girls flirting with him, and he is even hit sometimes by the occasional lightning strike of confidence that allows him to flirt back (he still can’t believe he managed to call you ��a distracting sight” without spontaneously combusting). But there’s something in your eyes, in your smile, in the way you talk—something about you that has his breath hitching and his heart racing. He doesn’t know if he wants to run away and hide in a corner or kiss you right then and there.
Heeseung, the captain of the hockey team, announces into a microphone (which Sunghoon wonders where they got the money for) that the contest will start now, so he can neither kiss you nor run away. Instead, he follows you to the side of the room where all the contestants, including Jake and Kazuha, wait for their names to be called out. There are so many participants, it takes way longer than Sunghoon would like for the two of you to step onto the makeshift stage. Judging by the looks on the audience’s faces, everyone is surprised to see you and Sunghoon together—the hockey community at your university may be big, but everyone knows everyone, and gossip travels fast. No one had seen you and Sunghoon together before, for the obvious reason that you hadn’t even met before tonight. But you could be sure that by tomorrow, as silly as it sounds, word will have gone around that you and Sunghoon had participated in a couple costume contest together. 
At least, you give them something of substance to talk about—as you and Sunghoon pose on stage, wearing your brightest smiles to please the crowd, you stand on your toes and press a kiss to Sunghoon’s cheek. Sunghoon’s eyes burn a hole in the side of your face but you just watch as the audience of drunken 20-somethings goes wild over something as simple as a peck on the cheek. Jake is the only one booing. 
Sunghoon is still in shock when the next couple is called forward and you have to step off. His cheeks are redder than before and he can’t quite meet your eyes. Apparently, he also goes wild over something as simple as a peck on the cheek. You nudge his shoulder. “See, I told you they’d like us.” 
He feels like a fourteen-year-old for it, but Sunghoon can’t stop thinking about your soft lips against his cheek, so much so that he barely says a word as the three judges deliberate. If you notice the sudden change in his behavior, you don’t comment on it, perhaps chalking it up to nerves. He’s glad for it—he doesn’t know if he could handle being teased about it, especially from you. Although he’s not sure he wants you to think he’s the kind to stress over a last-minute Halloween costume contest. 
In the end, you don’t win. He suspects it was a rigged contest all along: the couple in the unimpressive Edward and Bella costume are friends with one of the judges, probably leading to their anticlimactic victory. At least it isn’t Simon and Jeannette who win, or Kazuha and Jake, even less original than the winners. Anyway, Sunghoon couldn’t care any less. With your hand in his as you walk back to the main room in search of your other friends, he feels like the biggest victor of the night. He doesn’t even mind it when his teammates tease him about his costume and how good the two of you look together—the smile you shoot him makes putting up with it worth it. He tries to think straight, but between the alcohol and your proximity, he feels like you’ve cast a spell on him.
Jake stumbles into your group, three drinks drunker than when Sunghoon last saw him, enthusiastically reporting that a game of spin the bottle is about to start in one of the rooms upstairs, because what every college party needs is a middle-school game to shake things up. None of the guys seem particularly interested until Jake reveals that the cheerleaders are playing. 
Sunghoon looks down at you, laughing when he sees your mildly disgusted moue. “Don’t feel like playing?”
“Not really, no.” Your eyes linger on his face. “There’s only one person here I want to kiss, anyway.”
All capacity for thought leaves Sunghoon’s brain. He just stares back at you blankly, lips slightly agape, willing himself to say something but also terrified that whatever leaves his mouth might make him seem like the biggest loser ever. 
You couldn’t possibly mean him—but did you? Was he the person you wanted to kiss?
As these questions resound through his head, your gaze drops to his lips. There’s his answer. 
His heart beating wildly in its cage, Sunghoon decides to do one smart thing tonight and leans in, slowly but surely closing the gap between the two of you. Then a sudden vibration in the back pocket of his jeans zaps through him like lightning and he jumps back, as if startled out of the trance you had put him in. Shame flooding his cheeks, he checks his phone; it’s the stupid alarm he set himself earlier to make sure he doesn’t get home too late. Midnight, Cinderella-style. 
You scratch the back of your neck as your eyes dart around the room. For the first time tonight, you look embarrassed—Sunghoon is in disbelief at how pretty you look even then. “I, um,” he starts, clears his throat. “I have this thing tomorrow morning, so I can’t stay too long…” he says guiltily.
He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he swears that what he sees on your face is disappointment. It makes him want to take it all back, to stay here with you for as long as you want and forget about tomorrow morning. 
“Oh, right,” you say, nodding. “That’s fine. What thing?”
“Oh.” Sunghoon turns an impossibly deeper shade of red, further resembling the strawberry syrup the more he gets himself in these embarrassing situations with you. “Just… choir. I go to choir on Saturday mornings.” He looks down at his feet like he’s just revealed a secret, shameful part of himself.
You burst into laughter, and Sunghoon is scared for a second that you’re making fun of him, and his feelings are a lot more hurt than they should be by someone he just met. Although, to be fair, you don’t feel like someone he just met.
“That’s so cool! It must be such a nice change from all the dudes on the hockey team,” you say, a sweet, curious smile on your lips. Like you mean what you say. Like you might want to know more.
Sunghoon thinks he just fell in love.
He chuckles. “Yeah. Definitely a nice change. As much as I love hockey, it’s nice to do something calmer, you know. And I like singing. And the cakes the local grandmas bring.”
“So that’s what it’s all about, really.”
“Yep, you caught me.” Sunghoon still feels the almost-kiss lingering, a tension between the two of you that has him on edge. He feels like he’s just missed his bus because it left a minute earlier than planned. The opportunity is gone, and he would definitely mess everything up, trying to kiss you now. So instead, he decides to leave. Whatever must happen, will happen, even if it’s not tonight. You have the same friends—this is definitely not the last time you will see each other. “Well, I should probably head. I have to be up at eight tomorrow.”
“Oh, wow. The choir grandmas don’t play around.”
“They really don’t.”
“Well, see you around then,” you say, a clumsy laugh falling from your lips as you wrap your arms around Sunghoon’s neck, bringing him into a tight but short hug. You also smell good, he notes to himself. Of course you do.
“See you, Y/N.” Just as he’s about to turn away, you wrap your hand around his wrist.
“Wait. Sunghoon?” He’s only half-surprised at the immense relief he feels to hear his name on your lips. Like you, too, didn’t want to part with him just yet.
“Yeah?” he says, wishing the hope and anticipation aren’t too obvious on his face.
“Where’s that choir of yours?”
--
When Sunghoon arrives at his neighborhood’s community center, ten minutes before nine a.m., you’re already there. Despite the seven hours of sleep under his belt, he feels like he could’ve done with three more, and the singular cup of instant black coffee he had for breakfast was both atrocious and useless. But your smile has the restorative effect of two Red Bulls and a power nap. You look surprisingly bright, like you either managed to get a very good night’s sleep or are just the biggest morning person to ever exist.
He hugs you when he reaches you on the sidewalk, tighter than he probably should, but you return it. You smell like fresh soap and sugar. The two of you exchange quick greetings before he leads you inside the center. 
“I made some cookies as well.” You point to your tote bag and Sunghoon’s jaw slackens.
“You had time to bake?” 
“Kazuha made me take Jägerbombs, so I felt crazy when I got home. I thought it wouldn’t be fair on the old ladies if they did all the work.”
Sunghoon laughs. “They’re going to love you.”
You follow Sunghoon up two flights of stairs and into a spacious room with a wooden stage. There’s a snacks table on one side of the room that is almost fully decked with plates and tupperwares of all sorts, and although their contents remain covered by tin foil or lids, the coffee and hot water pots are free to use. Most of the chairs are stacked on each side of the room but a few have been put in the middle, the grandmas sitting and chatting there waving at Sunghoon as the two of you walk in. There are about fifteen people in the room so far, most of them older ladies, but not only. There’s a dad that came with his daughter, a couple of teenagers, and a few other adults. It’s quite an eclectic mix, and Sunghoon loves it.
Minjeong is here, too, which Sunghoon realizes he forgot to say until he sees the sheer confusion of finding someone you know in an unexpected place on both of your faces. She walks towards you, suspicious eyes darting between you two.
“Hey,” she says only to Sunghoon before turning to you, arms crossed over her chest. “And what are you doing here?”
“Hi, Minjeong, so nice to see you too!”
“I invited Y/N,” Sunghoon says quickly, although you did technically invite yourself. For some reason, he feels the need to defend you, even though he knows you and Minjeong have been friends for years now, and Minjeong is just always this blunt.
“I didn’t know this was the choir you went to,” you say to Minjeong.
“Oh, this?” She looks around the room. “It’s only the choir I’ve been going to since I was a kid. You’d know that if today wasn’t the first day you showed interest in it, ever.”
“I came to your concerts!”
One of the old ladies calls Sunghoon’s name from the snack table, and he is glad for the diversion. “Right. I’ll let you guys talk this out.” A hand on your shoulder, he smiles down at you. “I’m gonna say hi to the ladies over there. Be back in a minute.” He shoots Minjeong a look as if to say, Be normal. 
As he approaches the small group, one of them asks very loudly if you’re his girlfriend. They all burst into giggles, blushing and eager-eyed like they’re sixteen rather than sixty. Sunghoon would be endeared if you didn’t look so alarmed and Minjeong so horrified, both of you looking at him before turning back to each other and getting into a very heated and secretive discussion. He is bombarded with a hundred questions: what your name is, where you’re from, how did the two of you meet, are you together? No? But you’re so pretty! And he’s such a nice boy! He answers all of their queries to the best of his ability while checking that your conversation with Minjeong hasn’t turned physical—your arms are now also crossed over your chest, and you look annoyed while she looks like she’s accusing you of something, but at least, punches aren’t being thrown. 
Thankfully, it’s only a couple more minutes until the conductor calls for everyone to gather on stage, and a weight is lifted off of Sunghoon’s shoulders once the ladies’ collective attention is no longer on him. He isn’t sure where they came from, or why they’ve decided to make the choir rehearsal their hang-out spot, but there is always a group of women who sit there and knit while chatting quietly or listening to the songs, and they are sometimes joined by children whose parents are part of the choir but don’t want to sing themselves and apparently have nowhere else to go. Sunghoon had been so excited at the prospect of having you come see him that he hadn’t thought of how boring this might be for you, sitting with sixty-year-olds for two hours, listening to an amateur choir go through scales and sing corny romance ballads—they’re rehearsing for a wedding they’ve been hired to sing at. But as the minutes go by, his worry dissipates when the delighted smile on your face hardly falters. He can’t imagine that his choir is that good, but you genuinely look like you’re having a nice time, and it makes Sunghoon stand a little taller, sing a little louder. Your eyes are on him for most of the time, and he blushes every time your gazes meet, but he still can’t keep himself from looking away from the conductor to check on you every few seconds.   
Once rehearsal is over, everyone gathers around the refreshments table. When you tell Sunghoon that he looked good out there, he stuffs his mouth with banana bread to stop himself from blurting out something stupid. Your cookies are a hit, and so is everything else—Sunghoon would be more than happy to watch you eat as many baked goods as you possibly can and chat with the grandmas, but he has something to ask you. Without thinking much, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, gently pulling you away from the table and towards him. The question that was at the tip of his tongue fades as soon as you meet his eyes, looking up at him like a deer caught in headlights, cheeks stuffed with brownie. You’re so cute that words fail him for a second, and when he notices the proximity between the two of you, takes a small, bashful step backwards. You glance at his hand still around your wrist, and he withdraws it like he’s suddenly been burned. 
A playful smile grows on your lips. “Everything alright?”
He scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I just, um, well. There’s a bus that takes us from right across the street directly to the beach, if you’re, um, if you’re interested. In going. With me. If you want.”
Your eyebrows cock in surprise, and Sunghoon thinks he’s messed it all up. You shoot Minjeong a quick, worried glance, then seem to think for a second. But when you look back to him, your smile is soft. “That sounds nice.”
An hour later, you’re running around together on the beach—or rather, Sunghoon is running around, and after five minutes of watching him with a smile on your face, he’s convinced you to run around with him. You’ve both long discarded your shoes and socks, jeans scrunched up to your mid-calves, grins so wide, your cheeks start to hurt. The wet sand is hard under your feet and the water cold against your skin. Sunghoon’s t-shirt sticks everywhere you sprayed water on him, and he knows putting his shoes on later will be a whole ordeal, but it doesn’t bother him. Even the gray September sky feels brighter because you’re standing with him underneath it. 
The water-splashing battle quickly has you both out of breath, and Sunghoon is ready to call a truce when you spot something behind him, gasping and running towards it. He turns around to find you picking up a bunch of sandcastle-building toys that must’ve been left behind by some kids. “I haven’t built a sandcastle in such a long time, this is so exciting,” you say, excitement written all over your face. 
As much as he loves seeing the glint of childish amusement in your eyes, Sunghoon keeps looking around in case the owners of these toys might appear out of thin air. “I feel like there’s something immoral about this,” he says, and you stop stacking sand into one of the toys to look at him with a confused frown. “Aren’t we technically stealing from some kids?”
“Sunghoon. If those kids really cared about these plastic toys, they wouldn’t have left them here.”
“What if they come back for them?”
“Then we’ll give them back. We’re not monsters.” That’s all it takes for Sunghoon to give in. He helps dig trenches around the towers you build, carving out small windows on them and apologizing profusely when he accidentally pokes too hard into one of them, destroying half of it. 
The second he notices you shivering, Sunghoon is on his feet, unwrapping the scarf around his neck and laying it like a blanket over your shoulders. “I’m going to get us something warm to drink. I’ll be back in a minute!” he announces before you can even protest, and practically runs to the nearest café. 
He only leaves you and the slightly pathetic-looking sandcastle alone for a minute, quickly coming back with two take-away cups of milky Earl Grey tea and a brownie that he couldn’t help himself from buying. The moan you let out when you bite into it, gooey, sweet chocolate sticking to your teeth, goes straight down Sunghoon’s spine, but he tries not to let his thoughts get too carried away.
“Good, right?” he asks, laughing when you nod fervently. When you laugh too, it’s a sound so sweet, it rivals the decadence of the brownie. “I sometimes make the trip all the way here just for this.”
“I thought I’d be done with sweets after this morning, but this is so good.”
“Better than Berta’s banana bread?”
“Oh, a hundred percent,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand as you speak. “Sorry, Berta. I’ll be thinking about this for the rest of my life.”
Sunghoon hopes you’ll remember him as the boy who’d introduced you to those brownies, if nothing else.
The two of you are silent for a little bit, but it’s a comfortable silence—something Sunghoon didn’t know was possible with someone he’d just met. This was something he loved about the sea: it allowed for some quiet. The crashing of the waves against the shore, the calls of the seagulls, the dogs barking after them—it all meant he didn’t need to fill the space with needless chatter. He could look out at the peaceful water, you by his side, and just enjoy the moment.
“I’m still so amazed whenever I come to the beach, no matter how many times it’s been.” Sunghoon’s voice is quiet when he speaks, lower than usual. It sounds a lot more intimate than he means it to be. You turn your head to look at him, silently asking him to go on. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, a twinkle in his eyes as he watches the water. “The town I grew up in is right in the middle of the country, so the sea is like, a five-hour drive. There was a lake nearby, but it was nothing compared to this. It might sound silly, but being from somewhere where everyone knows each other, I never realized just how big the world was until I came here and saw the sea for the first time.”
“You’d never been to the sea before coming here?” you ask, surprise clear in your voice. 
He shakes his head. “My hometown isn’t far from the mountains, so it’s a huge tourist spot both in the winter and in the summer, which meant my mom had to work even when my sister and I were out of school and could actually go on holiday. We’d go visit my grandparents and aunts when we found the time, but that was it.” He meets your gaze, a smile playing on his lips at the thought of his hometown and his family. “This is the furthest I’ve ever been from home.” 
The corners of your lips raise into a smile too, matching Sunghoon’s. “And how has that been going?”
He sighs. “It’s okay. I miss my mom and sister like crazy, of course, but they FaceTime me so much that I barely notice it. And anyways, it’s also nice to be on my own. Discover another part of myself, and all that.”
“For sure.” 
There’s a slight shift in your expression that Sunghoon catches onto, a falter in your smile and a hint of sadness in your eyes. He doesn’t want to force a topic that you don’t want to talk about, so he just gently eggs you on, in case all you need is a small push.
“What about you? I think Jake mentioned you guys growing up around here, only an hour or so away.”
At the mention of your brother, the smile returns to your eyes. You take a deep breath and think for a bit, but eventually, you start talking. Although Sunghoon’s eyes are on you, you keep yours trained on the sea. “Yeah, we did. We live just up the coast, so we were always hanging out at the beach. In a way, it’s nice having the sea here as well. It’s like-I don’t know.”
“Like having a piece of home even when you’re away?”
Your gazes meet for just a second, the surprise clear in your eyes, but as quickly as it came, it’s gone, and you turn away from Sunghoon once more. “Basically, yeah.” A sardonic smile appears on your lips. “Although the constant reminder isn’t always appreciated.” 
He tilts his head. When you don’t say anything further, he flicks some sand onto your hand and asks you what you mean by that. He looks at you with curiosity and kindness only, eager to know more about you, to let you know that you can open up to him, that he won’t judge you, but careful not to overstep any boundaries either. It seems to work.
“It might sound stupid, but back home, the beach was a place I could go to when it all was a bit too much, you know? Like an escape from everyday life. Where I could forget about all of the pressure on my shoulders.” Sunghoon hums, and you take another deep breath. “I don’t know if you and Jake talk about this sort of thing, but… our parents are barely nice when we do well, and pretty awful when we don’t reach their expectations. So we were like, constantly having to outdo ourselves just for them to say, ‘Keep it up’, or something like that. And if we did something wrong, well…”
You trail off, but Sunghoon knows what you mean. “Yeah, Jake said they barely spoke to him anymore because he decided to play hockey instead of becoming, like, a doctor or something.”
You smile, but it’s humorless. “Yep. They send him money, and he comes home for a bit over Christmas and summer break, but that’s it. I’ve gone home by myself sometimes and they won’t even mention him, it’s insane.”
“He also doesn’t talk about it a lot.”
“I know. I’m always the one to bring it up. I know it’s a sensitive topic for him, obviously, but I still find it amazing how well he deals with it. But me… despite everything, I still need their approval, you know?” you ask, and Sunghoon nods.
“That makes sense.”
You sigh. “I guess. And I’m obviously not becoming a doctor like them. Not a medical one, at least. It took a year of convincing them that doing the degree I’m doing was okay. ‘Cause at the end of the day, it’s still me filling in my university applications, and they can’t actually force me to go to medical school, but I still wanted them to be proud of me. Even if I study languages.” It’s quiet for a few seconds as you both look out at the waves crashing against the shore. When you start talking again, you look down at the sand, picking it up and letting it filter through your fingers. “So, yeah. Jake got a scholarship here, and I didn’t wanna be too far from home, so here we are. We’re so close to home, the sea I went to when I needed a break in high school and the sea I go to now are one and the same. And now it reminds me of my parents rather than making me forget about them.”
“I’m sorry for bringing you here,” Sunghoon says. “I didn’t think…”
You cut him off with a smile. “It’s okay. Now I’ve created new memories. Nice ones. And you know… wherever I am, it’ll be at the back of my mind. It’s up to me whether I let it affect my life or not.”
“Letting go of these things is never easy,” Sunghoon offers. “You also can’t blame yourself if it does affect you sometimes.”
When you look at Sunghoon, your eyes darting back-and-forth between his like they’re searching for something there, he feels himself tense up slightly. He can’t read you at all, has no idea what you’re thinking even as you smile and say, “You’re right.” Even as you silently link your pinky with his, gazing down at your hands with a small smile. He hadn’t realized how cold his hands were until this small touch, so small yet able to spread warmth throughout his entire body. When he speaks, he can’t bring himself to meet your eyes—he’s still so focused on where your hands touch, too aware of the skin of your finger right against his. Such a small, innocent touch. He can’t even begin to understand why it means so much to him.
“For what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is super cool,” he says. “I’ve always been so shit at foreign languages, let alone dead languages. And packing your bags and going abroad for a year, not everybody can do that. Becoming a doctor might be hard, but it also takes a specific kind of person to do what you do. And what Jake does. It’s all valuable.”
“Now, if you could say that again while I record you to show my parents, please,” you say, making him laugh.
“It’d be my pleasure.”
“What about you?” you ask him after a small pause. “I can’t be the only one who trauma-dumps on the first date.”
Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat. He hadn’t even dared entertain the thought that this might be more than a platonic hang-out in case he was crossing a line—but you’ve just called it a date. With just a few casual words, you’ve changed the entire meaning of the hours you’ve spent together. He hopes you can’t tell how flustered it’s made him.
“Well, there’s not much trauma to dump, really. Sorry.” 
You giggle. “Don’t apologize. That’s a good thing.”
Now that you’ve just opened up about your parents, Sunghoon is scared that telling you about how good of a childhood he had might come off as insensitive—but you smile softly at him, holding his hand face-up in yours, tracing the lines of his palm with the tip of a finger, and he starts talking. “So, it was just me, my older sister and my mom growing up. My dad died when I was 2.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It is a bit sad that I don’t have any memories of him, but everyone who knew him said he was a great guy. And my mom’s had this boyfriend since I was like, 10? He’s the one who got me to start hockey. So it hasn’t been that bad.”
“Your mom must be really strong.”
Sunghoon smiles. “She is. She’s amazing. To raise two kids on your own while grieving and not royally fuck up is… well, amazing. She’s always been so supportive of us, no matter what we wanted to do. My sister did well at school, but I wasn’t so good. I never really enjoyed it, but she’s never made me feel bad about it. She didn’t mind that all I wanted to do was hit a puck around.” 
“And you’re pretty good at hitting that puck around, aren’t you?”
“I’m not so bad,” Sunghoon says, chuckling along with you. He’s about to go on, but he is cut off by a raindrop hitting his hand, then another one; before either of you know it, your clothes are soaked through. Sunghoon takes his denim jacket off, using it as a makeshift umbrella for the both of you as you run towards the nearest awning, shaking with giddy laughter until you forget about the chilly rain and the clothes sticking to your skin. When it doesn’t let up for another few minutes, Sunghoon suggests catching the bus back, and you agree. 
The heating on the bus is set on low, but it’s enough to warm Sunghoon up as soon as he steps onto it. You sit at the back in a corner of your own, multiple rows away from the other people onboard. The two of you are relatively quiet, lost in your own thoughts until Sunghoon, after much internal deliberating, takes one of your hands in his and interlaces your fingers together. You look up at him, but he doesn’t return your gaze, eyes fixed on the window to hide his shy smile and the blush slowly staining his cheeks. To his surprise, you squeeze his hand and rest your head on his shoulder. He freezes for a second, unsure how to react to your reciprocated affection, but he makes himself relax into your touch, and starts brushing his thumb back-and-forth on the back of your hand. The sudden storm has made day turn to night a little earlier today, and with the quiet hum of the bus, he finds himself on the edge of sleep for the whole ride—the only thing keeping him awake is his booming heart.
The bus is nearing his stop when the buzz of his phone in his back pocket jolts him awake. You lift your head from his shoulder, massaging your neck as you fish your phone out of your own pocket. Sunghoon, more intrigued by you than by whoever has texted him, watches as the brightness of your screen makes you wince. Once you’ve read the text, you turn towards him, sleepy eyes and sleepy voice as you ask him whether he’s seen “this,” referring to a text from Chaewon. dinner at our flat tonight!!! come whenever. bring drinks. 
“Oh, I forgot she was doing that tonight,” you say through a yawn.
Sunghoon chuckles. “Do you have enough energy for it?”
“I always have enough energy for Chaewon’s cooking.”
You and Sunghoon make a pit-stop at a grocery store to buy two bottles of white wine and the hummus Chaewon likes, then head to your flat. Naturally, questions are asked when you and Sunghoon arrive at the exact same time, but before Sunghoon can explain that you spent the day together, Minjeong’s head pops out of the kitchen door, and she asks whether you ran into each other downstairs. Chaewon is only looking at the both of you, waiting for an answer, so she doesn’t see the very pointed look Minjeong gives you, as if to say Agree with me or else. You quickly glance at Sunghoon then say, “Yeah, we just arrived at the same time.” When they’ve both turned away, you tell him in a hushed tone that you’ll ask her about it later. 
The girls are busy in the small kitchen and Chaewon insists that they don’t need any more help, so you and Sunghoon bring two chairs by the kitchen door and sit as Yunjin catches the four of you up on the most recent drama in her Law cohort. Jay arrives twenty minutes later, but it isn’t another hour before Jake shows up with the excuse that he was taking a nap.
“Someone would think you don’t sleep at night, with the amount of naps you take,” you say.
“Oh my God, I miss when you weren’t here,” Jake replies, flicking your forehead before promptly plopping himself down on the couch. “I was so hungover when I woke up. I had to sleep it off,” he explains as he grabs four cans of beer from his backpack. 
Chaewon always makes a point to ask how everyone’s spent their day, but today, she unfortunately starts with Sunghoon, so he doesn’t have any time to come up with anything believable other than the truth, which is exactly what he does—and when Jay asks, What, to the beach by yourself? under Minjeong’s heavy gaze, he has no choice but to say yes. He isn’t sure why it’s such a big deal that you spent the day with him, or why it needs to be kept a secret, but there must be a reason. He’ll find out later. When it’s your turn, you look straight into Sunghoon’s eyes as you say you spent the day at the library but didn’t get much work done. Everyone ignores Jake when he exclaims Boring! and Chaewon swiftly moves onto Jay.
But you don’t. 
Your eyes stay on Sunghoon, unflinchingly watching him, expression unreadable, and he finds himself unable to look away, even as he feels his face heat up and his stomach flip. Then you smile, a satisfied smirk like you got what you wanted, and shift your gaze to Jay, who’s going on and on about the first six episodes of Lost he binge-watched earlier and wondering why nobody had told him about this “masterpiece of a show” before. Sunghoon is too busy thinking about the way you’d looked at him and pondering all the reasons for it to listen carefully. He watched Lost when he was fourteen anyway.
All throughout the evening, as the seven of you eat Chaewon’s pasta dish (which she made entirely from scratch, and is probably one of the best things to have ever graced Sunghoon’s taste buds), drink, talk, and afterwards, play card games, every glance between you and Sunghoon feels like a secret conversation that only the two of you are privy to. No one except for Minjeong is aware that you spent the day just the two of you until now—and even she doesn’t know what it is you did. Within a day of knowing each other, you already share memories that are yours and no one else’s. Sunghoon is giddy with the knowledge, heart skipping every time your eyes meet, no matter how fleetingly. When you’re all saying goodbye, it takes everything in him not to hug you for an awkwardly long time and to tear himself away from you. 
He can hardly fall asleep that night.
--
For the entirety of the year you were gone, Sunghoon could only nod and smile while the others bemoaned your absence or commented on how much more fun it’d be if you were here (even Jake, after enough wine spritzers, would admit to missing you). He understood that the group dynamics might feel different to them without you around, but this particular set of people was all he knew, so he never minded it. It reminded him of people telling him how sad it must’ve been growing up without a father, trying to be empathetic, when he didn’t know how he could miss something he never had. 
But now that you’re here, he gets it. You add something to the group that he can’t quite put his finger on. It’s in your affectionate gestures towards Chaewon and Yunjin, in your shared sense of humor with Jay (which no one else seems to find funny, save for Sunghoon, sometimes), in your bickering with Minjeong and downright arguing with Jake. It’s a hackneyed expression, but you do light up a room—at least in Sunghoon’s opinion, you do. In your presence, everything feels not only more lively, but also more cohesive, like you were the missing piece of a puzzle. Like a historic work of art that has been returned to its rightful owner. 
Sunghoon just finds himself drawn to you, at times unable to keep his eyes off of you, and the only things keeping him from making a move are his inherent shyness and the eyes of your friends. He doesn’t want to mess up the friendship he has with anyone from the group, least of all Jake, just because he can’t keep it in his pants. He thought of Yunjin and Chaewon, how their relationship had gone smoothly from the beginning and posed no problem to the dynamic of the group, but he had no idea if this was replicable between you and him at all.
If he had to be honest, a big part of him was also just afraid you’d reject him.
Getting a read on you is hard, which doesn’t help. It’s been three weeks since the gang reunited, since that party where you met. The first semester of his second and your fourth year started a little bit over a week ago; Sunghoon sometimes worries that you think there is some big age gap between you and that you see him as a kid, even though, admittedly, two years is not such a huge difference. In those three weeks, there have been many encounters which could be seen as cases of flirting between the two of you—Sunghoon has noticed every single one of them and replayed each an embarrassing amount of times in his head. A hand carefully posited on his shoulder; prolonged eye contact; jokes whispered in his ear at a crowded house party; knees lightly touching at first, then pressed together during movie night. None of it ever fails to make Sunghoon’s heart flutter. You could breathe in his general direction and it’d make his heart beat fast enough to worry a cardiologist, so when you smile at him, it’s a small death every time.
And so he dares hope that his interest isn’t one-sided—although most of the time, he is so stuck between thinking none of it means anything and thinking every single thing you do is a sign that you like him, that he rarely knows what to think. And whenever you’ve paid him enough attention to make him believe it’s not all in his head, you do something that proves him wrong. Watching you interact with other people, he realizes that you keep good eye contact with everyone and that you’re just as touchy and playful with all of your friends. At parties, you hit it off with new people and catch up with old friends without so much as a hint of awkwardness. He watches as you talk to other guys, the same smile that has been making him weak for the past three weeks, directed towards them and not him. Sunghoon assumes you’re either really nice to everyone and oblivious to the fact that it could be seen as flirting, or you just flirt with everyone. 
In that sense, the two of you are complete opposites. Sunghoon, whose entire friend group hangs on the fact that he befriended Jay, who knew Jake, who knew you, Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon. Sunghoon who has spoken to maybe half of his hockey team outside of the locker rooms and the occasional party. Sunghoon who, outside of his usual friend group, has managed to make three other friends on his own in the year he’s been at university, because they had been put in a group project and magically hit it off enough to upgrade from classmates to friends. 
Then there’s you, who has to stop every thirty seconds at a party to say hi to someone you know. You, who still keeps in touch with the friends you made in a foreign country, even those who spoke broken English. You, who didn’t make Sunghoon feel like his crippling shyness was a problem when you first met. 
He doesn’t understand how everyone who meets you doesn’t instantly fall in love. 
Or maybe they do, and he’s just one of many vying for your heart. 
Tonight is one of the nights where all he can do is watch from afar as you interact with another man that he desperately wishes was him. With your lower back against the kitchen counter, drink in hand as you laugh with that other guy, eyes never leaving his face, it almost looks like someone has copied your time with Sunghoon at the costume party and pasted it onto this post-hockey game party. All you’re missing is a bright pink cowgirl hat and boots to match.
And yet, it’s his team jacket over your shoulders, his name and number on your back. Sunghoon shouldn’t feel nearly as jealous as he does.
So he does what any good friend would do, and blames Jay for reasons completely unwarranted—even now, days after receiving his advice, and hours after taking it, Sunghoon still can’t help but regret involving him at all. 
Initially, Sunghoon hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about his growing feelings for you—he’d thought that if he pushed them away and kept them to himself, they’d go away on their own. But clearly, they didn’t, seeing as how his stomach always twisted in nervous excitement at the prospect of seeing you and how he could never get through a conversation with you without blushing. So, quicker than he’d like to admit, he’d given in and told Jay about the day you’d spent at the beach and how felt about you now, thinking it was some big shameful secret that would render his friend flabbergasted. 
That was his first mistake. 
Jay wasn’t impressed. “Yeah, it’s been pretty obvious, dude,” he’d said through a mouthful of cheeseburger. It was after hockey practice, and they were sitting in the burger joint near the ice rink that had some of the best student deals in town. Jake was going on a Hinge date, and Sunghoon had lured Jay in with the promise of free food (Jay wanted to go home and game, but all Sunghoon needed to do to convince him was to say “I’ll pay for it”). 
“Obvious? How obvious? Does everyone know? Does Jake know?” Sunghoon asked, growing more agitated by the second.
“Jake is possibly the worst room-reader that has ever lived, so no, I don’t think he’s caught on. But the rest of us know. I mean, you look at her like a twelve-year-old with a crush on his English teacher,” Jay said, unceremoniously cramming fries into his mouth.
Sunghoon ignored the slightly humiliating remark, still preoccupied by the fact that he hadn’t been as discreet as he thought he had. He leant in towards Jay and dropped his voice to a whisper, even though the restaurant was practically empty, save for them and a group of rowdy middle school boys who were definitely not paying attention to them. “Do you think… does she know?”
Jay dropped his fist on the table in sudden annoyance, causing Sunghoon to jump back in his seat. “Now you’re acting like a twelve-year-old.” Before Sunghoon could defend himself and argue that he’s being completely rational, Jay launches into a surprisingly moving monologue. “It’s fine if you like her, there’s nothing to be embarrassed of. Everybody feels attraction towards other people, everybody gets crushes, it’s no big deal. Just talk to her. Worst case scenario, she doesn’t feel the same way, and you both move on, because you’re adults.”
There’s nothing worse than a friend being right about something you absolutely don’t want to hear. Sunghoon did feel like he had been carrying a horrible secret around, but Jay was spot-on: crushes are a very common, very human experience. And yet Sunghoon managed to feel like he was the only one who had ever had to go through this torture. “You say that like it’s easy,” he said, sulking.
“It is easy. You’re making it hard.”
“So what, your advice is just to confess to her?”
Jay rolled his eyes. “See? You’re saying confess like it’s some sin you have to repent for. Yeah, just tell her.”
“Just tell her,” Sunghoon repeated, looking at his friend like he was crazy. Jay just took another bite of his burger.
“Yeah, dude. It’s not even like you’ve known each other for a long time, so there’s no risk of ruining a friendship, or anything.”
“But do you even know if she feels the same way at all?”
Jay shrugged. “She hasn’t mentioned anything,” he said, and Sunghoon’s heart dropped in disappointment. “But it’s Y/N, she’ll be cool about it. And who knows, she might actually see something in you, for some godforsaken reason.”
Jay laughed at his own joke, and Sunghoon afforded him a chuckle. They moved on to other topics, but later, as they waited for Jay’s bus to come, he couldn’t help himself. “Do you think Jake will mind? If something happens with Y/N and me?”
Jay thought for a second. “I think he’d be more upset with her than with you, what with everything that happened with Heeseung... But knowing him, he probably won’t care as long as you aren’t weird in front of him.” He puts a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder and shakes it gently. “Don’t let that stop you from making a move, okay? You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.” His bus came then, so Sunghoon couldn't ask for more details about this Heeseung situation—he knew that there had been something between you and him which hadn’t ended particularly well, but no one ever really talked about it so he didn’t dare bring it up. All he knew was that it had been significant enough for Jay to mention it now, and for Jake to seem bothered every time it was mentioned.
He put all of that out of his head for the time being. In a way, he had just received Jay’s blessing; even if it scared him shitless, he could make a move. Perhaps not something as straightforward as Jay was suggesting, but something, at the very least. 
The first major hockey game of the season was that coming Friday. Sunghoon had an idea.
The morning of, he shot you a text. He tried to make it sound as nonchalant as he can, so that you wouldn’t know he spent close to an hour deleting, writing and pouring over a singular sentence. Can you meet me in front of the locker rooms 30 mins before the game? 
That was his second mistake.
You replied twenty minutes later, twenty minutes that Sunghoon spent questioning everything that had led up to this moment.
yn.sim i’ll be there!!
You even got there five minutes early. He was waiting for you, all decked out in his hockey uniform, save for the gloves and protective headgear. He was anxiously chewing on gum, heart doing somersaults inside his ribcage—a grin found his lips as soon as you appeared around the corner, the sight of you alleviating his nerves for a second, then doubling them when you came close. “Hey,” he said, voice soft and slightly trembling.
“Hey,” you simply replied, a smile on your face to match his as he took you in his arms. It was a hug that lasted a second longer than it should, but that also ended too early for his liking.
“Um, I only have a second, Coach will be wanting to give one of his pep talks,” he said when you separated. One quick glance back at the locker room doors behind him, then back at you. The tips of his ears burnt, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from furtively darting between your face and the floor. But he’d come this far, so he couldn’t back out now. He just had to get it over with. “Here,” he blurted out, holding out the letterman jacket he had been hiding behind his back. You grabbed it, eyeing him with amused suspicion at first, but surprise spreaded over your features as you unfurled the jacket.
“Your team jacket?” 
He couldn’t tell whether you were amazed or horrified. You stared wide-eyed at the jacket, at its dark green sleeves, at the four letters of his last name and the huge number 8 embroidered onto the back. Your surprise faded back into what he thought — what he hoped — was excitement as you looked at him. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling his face flush red. “Yeah, I just, you know… It’s the first big game of the year, and I thought it’d bring me good luck if a pretty girl was wearing my name…” he explained, repeating the words he’d practiced over and over, voice turning into more and more of a mumble as he spoke. He had planned on speaking with more confidence, but now, the fact that he could speak at all felt like a miracle.
A light giggle spilled out of your mouth. Sunghoon immediately took it for mockery and regretted every decision that had led him here. “Sorry, it was a silly idea, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t like it,” he said, reaching for the jacket. But you were quicker than him, hugging the thick bundle of fabric to your chest as you now beamed at him.
“Are you kidding? I love it,” you said, shrugging off your jacket and replacing it with his.
First, relief flooded his body, then pride and excitement — as you spun around and showed the jacket off — at seeing his name on your back, and his attempt at making a move being successful. At least, he thought it was clear what he meant by giving you his jacket to wear at his game—he could only hope you understood. “Well… I’m glad.” Your eyes met, and you both chuckled softly, gazes holding each other’s for a second too long. 
Two weeks ago, Sunghoon still would’ve been able to convince himself this was a fluke; that this was just another one of his crushes that a gentle breeze could blow away. Because after all, when Sunghoon fell in love, it usually went as quickly as it came. But at that moment, in front of the locker rooms, his mind solely on you and not the opening game of the season, he realized this was something else entirely. And whatever it was, he hadn’t felt it in a good long while.
He was terrified—but infinitely excited, too.
“Okay, I should probably head back in now,” he forced himself to say, but made no move to go.
“Okay.”
He paused. “Will you be cheering me on?”
Your smile widened. “Of course.”
He nodded slowly, upper body starting to turn away but feet still firmly planted on the ground. “Okay.” 
Another second passed, and just as he was about to actually walk away, you grabbed his hand. Before he could compute what was happening, you lifted your head and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. His hand was still in yours when you took a step back, and for once, it was you who looked sheepishly at the floor. “For good luck,” you explained. He had no time to reply—you were already walking away, only looking back once to wave and shoo him in the direction of the locker room. He chuckled and nodded, but waited until you were out of sight to head back into the locker room.
Inside the locker room, everyone was too focused on getting their head in the game to notice his giddy smile. Your lips had been warm and soft against his cheeks, a welcome repeat of that time at the costume party, but the quickness of it all had only made him want more. From that very first night he’d met you, the question of how your lips would feel on his had scarcely left his mind. This brought him a step closer to getting an answer, but also made his curiosity grow tenfold.
Thankfully, by the time his coach gathered them around for a last minute pep talk, he’d managed to put the distracting thoughts of you out of his head, at least temporarily—he’d need to play well, for himself and his team mostly, but impressing you was also a priority. 
As the captain, Heeseung said a few words. He reminded the team of how important this match was and went over the main strategy points. For the time being, Sunghoon was able to forget about his arguably unfounded resentment against the older boy and whatever it was he had to do with you. This was not the time for jealousy over someone he had no right to feel jealous over. 
A few minutes later, his members and those of the opposing team poured out onto the rink for warm-up. Sunghoon searched the crowd for your face—when he found it, you were already smiling wide and waving at him. His heart did something funny, but Jay punched his shoulder pad and he remembered what he was there for. He could get lost in the eyes of a pretty girl later, specifically when he’d destroyed the other team and shown her how good of a hockey player he was.
Every now and then as he skirted around the rink and did his stretches, he stole glances at you. They didn't last long, because every single time, you’d already be looking, as if your eyes never strayed from him. Knowing you were watching made him nervous at first, but by the end of warm-up, mainly because he didn’t have much of a choice, he’d turned those nerves into an ever stronger will to do well.
The moment the referee blew the whistle, and for the hour that followed, Sunghoon was locked in on one thing and one thing only: winning. He was only competitive when it came to hockey—he didn’t care about dying in an online battle game or losing to Jake at beer pong, but once he was on the rink, he had to win. Pride surged through him and filled every crevice of his aching limbs whenever he or one of his team members scored, and the feeling that came with a victory, with hugging his teammates in celebration or hearing the crowd cheer for them, was like nothing else he’d ever known. The other side of that coin meant that any loss was a tremendous disappointment. Getting beat at an important game could put him in a week-long funk. His sister had once carefully hinted at his self-esteem relying too much on his hockey performance, and although his first reaction had been to dismiss her, he knew she had poked at some truth there. But what could he do—on particularly lonely nights, he truly thought hockey was all he had going for him. 
To his overthinking nature, becoming so single-minded the second the whistle blows was a relief, a break from the stress of daily life. He didn’t have to worry about his next deadline or about what the guys on the team thought of him or about the inevitable phone call to his mom asking for more money for groceries. It was respite from the thoughts surrounding you that plagued him: how you felt about him, how you might react knowing what he felt for you, how Jake might react. Why Minjeong hadn’t wanted you to say anything that evening, but why Jay had told him to just go for it. Heeseung, whom he had to respect as the captain and an undeniably talented player, but also as someone who had had something to do with you, whether good or bad. All of it had been wildly bustling around Sunghoon’s mind, but once on the rink, all he had to concern himself with was the puck and getting it in the opposing team’s goal. 
And Sunghoon did just that—he scored the first goal of the game, another one in the second period, then a third during the eleventh hour, breaking the tie between the two teams. He smiled right at you after each one, just to make sure you had seen everything. He couldn’t quite describe how it felt to see you clap and cheer for him, jumping up-and-down, forming a megaphone with your hands around your mouth and yelling, “Go Sunghoon!” all while you wore his jacket. It was a separate kind of pride and satisfaction from the sort he’d get seeing anyone else cheer him on, for sure. 
The other team put up a good fight, getting in a few goals of their own and protecting their side well, but in the end, thanks to Sunghoon’s goal, it was his team that won. He took his helmet off and got his hair ruffled by half of his team, then shook hands with the other team, trying to contain his boastful smile—some ice hockey players flew off the handle very quickly, and starting a fight was the last thing he wanted.
Kids and local fans huddled by the barriers on each side of the player’s tunnel to get an autograph or a picture. People around here were weirdly attached to their university sport teams, and the athletes on teams that did particularly well — namely football and rugby — were sort of local celebrities. Their ice hockey team wasn’t quite at that stage yet, but they were placing better nationally with every year, and so the local interest had grown. More kids had started signing up for lessons, and their parents often brought them to home games. As Sunghoon chatted with men twice his age and took selfies with ten-year-olds, he tried to find you in the crowd, to no avail. He’d been hoping for a thumbs-up from you for a game well played, or even a hug, but you were nowhere in sight.
It wasn’t until half-an-hour later, after saying bye to all the fans that had waited after the game for them, listening to Heeseung and their coach congratulate them (but also remind them to not take anything for granted), showering and changing, that he got to check his phone.
chaewon we going k-bbq! u guys played well see u later at da party!!!!
Disappointment only had a second to sink to the bottom of his stomach. He’d barely finished reading the text when he was hoisted up by the shoulders. Two of his senior teammates, Soobin and Beomgyu, marched him towards the exit. “We are getting you wasted tonight, Park,” Beomgyu announced, a wide grin on his lips.
“I have a good feeling about this season,” Soobin added. Sunghoon looked back to find Jay and Jake simply shrugging and laughing at him.
Indeed, the second they got to the dorm where tonight’s party would be taking place, a beer was thrusted in his hand. It was only 7 p.m., still light outside, but that didn’t stop the team nor their friends that had come to the game. They sipped beer like it was water, so much so that two hours later, when the party started to grow, Sunghoon was already quite inebriated. It didn’t help that his cup was never empty for too long, and that he had the reassurance of being in his own dorm—it was the closest student building to the ice rink, and so was one of the prime spots for hockey parties. He could get as drunk as he wanted — or as Beomgyu wanted — and still get home in less than a minute. 
He somehow ended up in the corridor, part of a nonsensical conversation about candle-making with two guys he had recognized from one of his Phys Ed classes but could not for the life of him remember the names of. One had shared that candle-making was a big hobby of his, and it had made Sunghoon and the other unknown man lose their minds—Sunghoon had never realized how curious about candle-making he was, but he couldn’t stop asking questions. It sounded great. Maybe he’d have to pick up candle-making, too. 
Eventually, he headed back to the kitchen for a new drink. For the nth time this evening, he thought of texting you, then immediately thought against it. He wanted to know when you’d get here, but he didn’t want you to know that he wanted to know—although as the night deepened and his intoxication rose, he could remember less and less why that would be such a bad thing. He stepped into the kitchen, and going from the brightly-lit corridor to the dark kitchen with flashing neon lights made him so dizzy that he made a beeline for the couch, needing to sit down for a second.
And that was when he saw you.
Lower back against the counter, talking with a guy he’s never seen in his life. You look like you’re having fun—smiling, laughing, keeping eye contact with that guy. You’re still wearing his jacket. It should probably reassure him—his name is literally on you, what does it matter that you’re speaking to someone else? But instead, all he can think is that wearing his jacket must mean nothing to you. What was basically a confession from him seems to have fallen on deaf ears.
His friends’ words over the past year come back to him—how much you flirt with people, how it wasn’t a rare occurrence for you to go home with a guy after a party and never speak of him ever again. Was this what was happening here?
He knows it’s unreasonable, but in his drunken state, he takes it as a betrayal. Like he can’t believe you haven’t read his mind, figured out how he felt about you, and decided to give special attention to him and him only. He’s only able to take it for so long—two minutes later, he trudges out of the room, walking right past you but not looking your way.
His new mission is to find his friends, but before he’s done much searching, he hears his name being called out. Of course, he recognizes your voice immediately, but he doesn’t quite believe it until he looks over his shoulder, and there you are, face glowing and smiling wide. You’ve clearly had a few drinks, but he likes to think you’d be just as happy to see him if you were sober. He turns around to face you, watching as you narrow the distance between the two of you. He’s not in a much better state—the simple thought that you had come after him makes him forget any sort of resentment he held against you a second ago. When you reach him, he holds on to one of your arms, as much an effort to stabilize his swaying body as an excuse to touch you.
“Hey,” he simply says. He’s always at a loss for words around you, so scared he’ll say the wrong thing that he ends up barely speaking at all. He’s only sober enough to know that with all the cheap beer and vodka running through his blood, his odds of making a fool of himself are even bigger. 
“Hey. I was wondering where you were.” 
“You’re the one who came late.”
“I know!” you exclaim. “I wanted to come right away, but Chaewon was hell-bent on getting her Korean barbecue.”
“She does get cranky when she hasn’t had pork belly in a while.” Sunghoon feels like he’s just won the Nobel Prize when you let out a laugh. “Was the food good at least?”
“It was amazing. So worth getting here late,” you joke.
He rolls his eyes playfully. “I see how it is.” Then, before he can stop himself, he adds, “Then we should go there together next time.” 
Your smile changes, turning from cheerful to surprised, but amused—almost mischievous. You take a step forward. Sunghoon gulps; the gap between the two of you was narrow to begin with. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
Usually, this type of straight-forwardness would have him stuttering, but drunk Sunghoon is a man sober Sunghoon barely recognizes in the morning. “Yeah. I am. Is that okay?”
You nod. “Mh-hm.”
“Nice. Okay.” For a second, you just look at each other. Another thing about drunk Sunghoon: he doesn’t feel like prolonged eye contact will make him spontaneously combust. He actually quite enjoys it. He also stumbles, even when all he’s doing is trying to stand straight. “You’re still wearing my jacket,” he eventually says, reaching out to take the end of your sleeve between his fingers.
You stretch out your arms and appraise the team jacket as if you only remembered you had it on. “Yeah. It’s comfy.”
“It looks good. You look good.”
“You’re not quite sober, are you?” you ask suddenly. 
“Is it that obvious?” When you nod, he giggles, lowering his head in defeat. “The guys made me drink so much.”
“You did score three goals after all. And you looked good doing it.”
At the praise, he stands up to his full height and places his palms behind his head in a victorious pose. “I did, didn’t I?” he says, looking off in the distance with a self-assured look that makes you burst into laughter. He drops the confident facade and laughs along with you, until somebody bumps into him and sends him stumbling forwards. If you weren’t standing there to catch him, he’d probably have fallen flat on his face. But even though he doesn’t fall, he feels all the alcohol catching up to him and threatening to come right back out where it came from. You hold him for a second, and just as you ask him if he’s okay, he says, “I think I’m gonna throw up.”
You sigh. “Okay. Where’s your room?” 
Arm under his shoulders, you let Sunghoon lean most of his weight on you as you guide him towards the elevator. It’s just one floor, but you said you didn’t want to risk the stairs with him. “Hey, who was that guy with you in the kitchen? That guy in the striped shirt? You guys seemed real chummy back there…” he mumbles as you help him out of the elevator. Even on the verge of sickness, Sunghoon is preoccupied by more important things.
“Oh, that was Jaemin.”
“Jaemin,” he echoes, more venom in his voice than needed.
You look at him, taking in his disgruntled expression, and chuckle. “Yeah, he’s having some problems with his boyfriend. He asked me for advice.”
Sunghoon almost freezes in his tracks, but you’re there to keep him walking towards his room. “Oh. He has a boyfriend.”
“Yeah…” He can tell you want to tease him about it, but thankfully, you say nothing. He’s made it clear he had gotten jealous of your gay friend—no need to spell it out in so many words. Once you reach his studio (which he’d stupidly left unlocked), he heads straight for the bathroom, locking himself in, half out of embarrassment, half because he really doesn’t want you to see him throw up. Talk about a turn-off. He leans over the toilet bowl, waiting for the vomit to rise, but nothing comes. He waits, and waits, mind completely empty, head spinning even though he’s sitting very still, when suddenly a knock on the door pulls him out of his stupor.
“Sunghoon? It’s been ten minutes. Everything okay?”
He doesn’t say anything, just unlocks the door for you. Without realizing, he fell asleep like a bored teenager in math class. “All right,” he hears you say.
He’s surprised you’re able to carry him out of the bathroom—if he was a deadweight before, by now, rigor mortis has practically set in. Despite his small student room, crossing it takes you an entire minute, and when you reach his bed, you all but let him flop on the mattress. He doesn’t mind. As soon as his body hits the bed, he feels quite snug, curling against his blanket. You start to unbutton his shirt, probably just thinking he’s already fallen asleep and wanting to make him more comfortable, but your fingers freeze when he starts giggling. Shoulders shaking with unbridled laughter, he feels as delighted as a five-year-old who just said a naughty word and made all his drunk relatives laugh at the family dinner. 
“I know I looked really hot tonight, but can we wait until I’m sober?” he asks, slurring his words slightly and keeping his eyes shut, despite the shit-eating smirk on his lips. You hit him on the chest but it just makes him laugh more.
“Bold of you to assume I’d still hit when I’ve just had to peel you off your toilet seat.” He lets you finish helping him out of his button-down. 
“Wouldn’t you?” he asks. He tries to look at you, but his eyes don’t quite open all the way, and they don’t focus properly, due to a strong mix of alcohol and inappropriate thoughts. Of you, specifically. His body feels suddenly very heavy, his want for you weighing him down into the mattress. The room is dark, your face illuminated only by the light in the bathroom and the glow of the street lights outside. You always look pretty, but your beauty is especially breath-taking right now, Sunghoon thinks. He wants to reach out and touch your face, wants to trace your jawline and know what your skin would feel like against his fingers. He doesn’t realize he’s actually doing it until he hears you inhale shakily.
The expression in your eyes is unreadable, and quickly gone, replaced by an annoyed squint. You grab his wrist gently, setting it back down next to him. “I’m gonna make you some ramen. You need to sober up, and you haven’t had dinner, have you?”
Sunghoon shakes his head. He feels rejected, and it makes him inordinately sad.
For five minutes, he watches as you rummage around his cupboards for a pack of ramen, fill a pot with water and bring it to a boil. His thoughts float back to your day at the beach, memories that he’s preciously held onto for the past few weeks. You running around on the sand, opening yourself up to him and letting him open himself up to you, holding his hand on the bus. That day, he’d really thought it would be the beginning of something new; but as time passed, he became less and less sure of himself. He’s scared it might’ve just been a fluke, and that he’d have to destroy the castle he’d built in his head. He’s seen you almost every day since, but it’s never been the same. And even if your eyes met unexpectedly sometimes, or if you went out of your way to sit next to him during movie nights, he can’t let himself go on with so few signs. Jay was right—he had to be clear about his feelings, otherwise this would go on forever. Even if it didn’t feel like it, the Earth would continue spinning on its axis if you didn’t reciprocate.
“I’ve missed you.”
You pause in your movements. “Missed me? But we’ve seen each other every day,” you say after a few seconds, still facing away from him. Your voice is softer than he’s heard it before, almost unsure of itself.
“No,” Sunghoon whines, frowning. He can barely keep his eyes open—he wishes you could read his mind so he wouldn’t have to explain, but alas. “I miss you—the you from the beach. When it was just me and you. It’s not the same with the others around.”
Silence falls over the room again. Sunghoon wonders if you’re just going to ignore what he said, until you take a deep breath, and walk back to his bed. You crouch in front of him and take both of his hands in yours. Electricity flows from where your hands touch to the rest of his body. He suddenly feels a lot more awake.
“It’s just the two of us now,” you whisper. 
Sunghoon nods. “I know. It’s nice.”
You smile. It might be the alcohol playing tricks on him, but Sunghoon swears there’s a hint of sadness in your eyes. One of your hands comes up to his hair. You thread your fingers gently through it, pushing it away from his forehead, then bring your hand down to the side of his face, your palm cupping it tenderly. Sunghoon lets himself lean into your warm touch. With his eyes closed, the darkness surrounding him makes this feel like a dream—he basks in the moment so as not to let a second of it go to waste.
“Do you wanna do something just us two this week?” you ask softly. His eyes shoot open—he needs to be sure this is really happening. He nods again, fervently this time, and it makes you chuckle. “Okay.”
“Just us two?” 
“Just us two.”
He relaxes once more. He guides your hand towards his mouth and presses his lips against your palm. Something shifts in your eyes—Sunghoon thinks the opportunity to finally kiss you has arisen, but as soon as his gaze drops to your lips, you’re back on your feet. “Let’s eat some ramen, shall we?” you ask as you head back towards the kitchen. Sunghoon tries his best (and probably fails) to not let his disappointment show.
There’s no dining table to speak of, only a low table near Sunghoon’s bed, on which you set down a wooden board and the steaming pot of spicy noodles. You hand him a pair of chopsticks and a spoon, and tell him to eat. Neither of you say much for a while, and Sunghoon grows redder and redder under your watchful gaze. He asks if you want any a few times, but you always turn him down. The silence quickly gets a little too unbearable for him, and he’s got a question burning the tip of his tongue anyway. Now’s as good a time as ever to ask it.
“Something’s been bugging me recently, actually…” You wait for him to go on. “So, at the costume party, right?” You nod. “You said there was only one person you wanted to kiss… Did you mean me?”
You tilt your head, looking at him like you’re trying to figure out whether he’s joking or not. “Yeah, Sunghoon… I meant you. Who else?”
He’s only half-relieved. “So why won’t you kiss me now?”
To his surprise, you smile. “Because you’re drunk.”
Confusion fogs Sunghoon’s brain. Is that all you’re worried about? Is his blood alcohol level the only thing stopping you from kissing him? “But I-I’m fine. I give you consent to kiss me, Y/N.” He’s dead serious, so when you laugh, it only frustrates him further.
“Finish your food, Sunghoon. We’ll see about kissing later.”
He sighs. Later he could deal with. “Fine. But I’ll hold you to it, okay?” he says, pointing a menacing chopstick at you.
“Okay.”
But Sunghoon can’t keep quiet for long—ten seconds later, he’s remembered another question he’s been dying to ask. He continues drinking his soup in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “So what happened between you and Heeseung?”
The question takes you so off-guard, you look like you would’ve done a spit-take had you been drinking water. “That’s-you know about that?”
“Well, not much, that’s why I’m asking.”
You scoff. “Why do you want to know? It’s boring.”
At those words, Sunghoon whips his head up to look at you. “It’s not boring!” he exclaims, perhaps a tad too vigorously. “Anything that has to do with you is interesting to me.”
Finally, the corners of your lips rise. Sunghoon hated the ten seconds in which you weren’t smiling. “Well, there isn’t much to say, anyway. We had a thing when we were in second year, I caught feelings and wanted more, and he didn’t. The end.”
Sunghoon freezes, staring at you with his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth agape. He then sets his cutlery down neatly next to the pot of ramen and clasps his hands together like he’s in a business meeting. “So you’re telling me that he had the opportunity to make you his girlfriend and he just… didn’t?”
You shrug. “Basically, yeah.”
He hits the bedsheets next to him, huffing out in annoyance. “What an idiot.”
“He sure is,” you say. You smile to yourself as you grab Sunghoon’s spoon and try some of the broth. He wonders whether anything lies behind that smile. “But it happened a while ago. Don’t be weird with him on my account. He’s still your captain.”
Sunghoon thinks for a second. “Can I side-eye him once in a while? Or not pass him the puck during practice?”
“Sure,” you reply, laughing. You swiftly move on to other topics as Sunghoon slurps the last of his noodles, asking him about the beginning of the party and just how much his teammates made him drink. He’s recounting the shot contest they held, which Mark won with an impressive seven shots of tequila in a row — Sunghoon hopes the boy is okay now — when your phones buzz at the same time. Minjeong’s name appears on your screen, Jay’s on his, both asking where you are.
“Should we head back now?” you offer, although Sunghoon, wishfully perhaps, detects a trace of reluctance in your voice. “You look like you’ve sobered up a bit, seeing as you’re able to string more than two sentences together.”
“I wasn’t that bad!”
“I should’ve filmed you.”
It’s one a.m. when you head back down, and the party is in full swing. Pop music blasts through someone’s JBL speaker in the shared kitchen, the hallways are more crowded than the subway at rush hour, just as full of hockey fans celebrating their team’s win as students who just wanted an excuse to party, and every window is open to alleviate some of the stuffiness. They probably have another hour left before the dorm residents who decided not to join in the festivities call campus police on them.
Sunghoon is relieved to find that Jake is off with other team members, reaching levels of drunkenness that will most definitely be regretted in the morning. Technically, he hasn’t done anything wrong—he simply let you nurse him back to sobriety after he almost regurgitated his pre-game protein bar and three beers all over your nice shirt. Chaewon and Yunjin are busy making out in a corner, their lack of decorum only increasing when they’ve been drinking, but Jay and Minjeong eye you suspiciously upon seeing the two of you arrive together. You explain what happened so casually that they don’t question it any further.
Chaewon and Yunjin only tear themselves off of each other when a Beyoncé song starts playing, and they drag all four of you to the makeshift dancefloor, which is really just three meters away in the middle of the kitchen. Sunghoon is practically all sobered up by now, but he’s loosened up enough not to feel self-conscious with every step he takes; the fact that you look so happy, dancing with him and laughing at his silly moves, is a considerable bonus. He won’t drink any more, not wanting to risk embarrassing himself further in front of you, and Jay, as the group’s self-proclaimed health guru, probably had his last beer around nine p.m., but the girls, each of them with a cup of suspicious transparent liquid in hand, are getting drunker by the minute—and so is Jake, who has now joined you all on the dancefloor, if his inability to stand straight is anything to go by. Sunghoon assumes you’re also done with alcohol for the night, until you turn to him in the middle of a song no one has heard since 2015 and tell him you’re going to get a drink.
“Okay!” he simply answers, and for a good thirty seconds, basks in the blissful satisfaction of knowing he was the one you informed of your whereabouts. That is, until he realizes a minute later that it was probably a covert invitation for him to come along, which he totally missed. But when he looks over at the counter where all the drinks are, his heart drops—Heeseung is standing in front of you, pouring gin and lemonade into your cup. A flurry of emotions course through Sunghoon, emotions he has no idea what to do with, because he’s not sure they’re entirely warranted. He’s angry that Heeseung is talking to you, after what he did, confused that you’d let him; but mostly, he’s jealous. But he knows it’s only because he has no guarantee that you like him, and that you won’t go off with Heeseung, despite having just talked about how you were over him.
Wait—is that really what you said? You told Sunghoon that what happened with Heeseung didn’t bother you anymore, which doesn’t necessarily mean you wouldn’t go back to him, given the chance. 
Before he can think it over a second time, Sunghoon heads over to where you and Heeseung stand. He places himself right behind you, reaching for a bottle of Coke on your side and pouring himself a drink.
“Oh, hey, Hoon,” his team captain says, clearly surprised to see him there and looking so discontented. Sunghoon can’t remember whether they’ve ever been close enough for Heeseung to call him by his nickname. “Having fun?”
“Yep,” he curtly replies, avoiding eye contact with either of you and looking out at the crowd of party-goers instead. He can feel your gaze, heavy on his face, can see the knowing smirk slowly rising on your lips. How was it that you could see right through him so easily?
“Too much dancing made you thirsty?” you ask, taking a drink from your cup and hiding your smile behind it.
He glares at you, more annoyed that his attempt at subtly sussing out what you and Heeseung were doing together was shut down so quickly than anything else. “Yep,” he repeats.
“You guys know each other?” the older boy asks, eyes darting between the two of you.
“Jake introduced us,” Sunghoon quickly answers. To his surprise, this makes Heeseung chuckle.
“Jay, Sunghoon, me… Wow, do you meet all your friends through your brother, Y/N?” he asks jokingly. Immediately, so many alarm bells ring in Sunghoon’s head—the implication that you and Heeseung are friends, the fact that he put himself and Sunghoon in the same bag, and above all, that teasing, almost flirtatious tone of his. 
He’s horrified to find you rolling your eyes playfully and saying, “I have other friends, thanks,” in a tone far too similar. At that moment, Minjeong starts yelling about how much she loves everyone in this room but particularly “you guys,” pointing to Jake, Jay, Minjeong and Chaewon, and “you guys, too!” screaming over the music as she points to you and Sunghoon.
“There’s one of them,” you say, half-amused, half-exasperated. “We should probably go check on her. See you around, Heeseung.”
“Right. See you, Y/N. Sunghoon.” 
Back to no-nickname basis, apparently.
Your group’s indicator of when it’s time to go home is when Minjeong starts one of her “I-love-my-friends-so-much” rants—if she’s that drunk, everyone else must be wasted. Indeed, Chaewon and Yunjin are holding onto each other to keep themselves from falling down, and Jake is unable to keep his head up. You, Sunghoon and Jay herd your friends outside and wait for Jake’s Uber, making sure to get him safely inside and to tip the driver generously for his pains. Jay lives nearby yours and the girls’ flat, and Sunghoon, ever the gentleman, walks you all home.
“Just ‘cause you and Jay might need a hand getting these three home,” he tells you. Yunjin, Chaewon and Minjeong are currently running around on the road, pointing and laughing at random shop names, and Jay is yelling at them to get back on the sidewalk.
“Mh-hm.”
“And it’ll be good to completely sober up before going to bed.”
“Right.”
There’s no use putting up a front with you—he’s an open book and you’re an avid reader. You don’t need to say anything to make it clear that you know it’s just an excuse to spend more time with you.
“You know, I told you not to be weird with Heeseung,” you say, gently punching him in the arm.
“Was I weird?” he asks, knowing fully well he hadn’t acted at all like he usually did around his captain. 
“You basically only spoke to let Heeseung know we’re friends. You were making yourself all tall and looking mysteriously out into the distance instead of at us.”
“But I am tall and mysterious,” he says, pride coursing through him as it always does when you laugh at one of his jokes.
“You’re probably the least mysterious person I know, Hoon.”
Hoon. How much sweeter that name sounds coming from you over anyone else.
“So you agree that I’m tall?”
You roll your eyes, but there’s a grin on your face. A win is a win. “That’s just a fact.”
Sunghoon smiles victoriously. “I’ll take a fact. But I’m sorry if I was acting weird… I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t bothering you.”
“Heeseung is always bothering me,” you say with a sigh. “He comes up to me like this at every party. He’s just asking how I’ve been, but it’s like he’s sussing out whether or not he’s still got a chance.”
“Do you need me to beat him up? Threaten him? Dox him?”
Even though Sunghoon was only half-joking, you burst out laughing, hard enough for Minjeong to whip around and shout, “What are you laughing about?” as if you had offended her personally. At least Jay is there to make her turn around and focus on walking straight.
“I appreciate the offer, but that won’t be needed. I just don’t like talking about it, ‘cause it’s really not that big a deal anymore. It feels like digging up old bones, you know?”
Sunghoon shrugs. “I’d commit grave robbery with you.”
“You-what?”
“Nevermind. We obviously don’t have to talk about it, but I’m curious.”
You sigh. “I guess it’d make sense for you to know about this.” Sunghoon thinks he sees something like panic flash across your features, but it’s so quick and such a rare expression on you that he’s not sure whether he just imagined it. “You know-just ‘cause everyone else is aware of it, and everything,” you quickly explain.
“Sure.”
“I just… I’m sure Heeseung is a nice guy when it comes to other things, but what the girls and I have concluded is that he’s a bit of an attention whore, you know. When it comes to girls. We fooled around for a while, and he never made it official, even when I made it pretty clear that that was what I wanted. But every time we saw each other after that, he’d flirt with me like nothing had happened. I fell for it at first and flirted back, thinking he had changed his mind… but he really just wanted to make sure I was still into him.”
“Looking for validation,” Sunghoon says.
“Exactly. And when I realized that, I stopped giving it to him. I was getting tired of him anyway, saying the same thing every time. But now, I entertain him for a couple of minutes before I walk away. I shut him down before he gets a chance to do it to me.”
“That’s smart.”
“I know,” you say, smiling. “I understand the need for validation, but he won’t be getting any from me.”
Jay bravely handles the three drunkards the whole way home, letting you and Sunghoon hang behind and carry on talking. You reach the boy’s apartment first, and yours five minutes later. But when you reach your front door, Minjeong announces she needs to talk to Sunghoon. “Privately,” she emphasizes.
You give Sunghoon an amused look and shrug as if to say “She’s your problem now.” He doesn’t have time to protest before you’ve bid him goodnight and disappeared behind the door, Yunjin and Chaewon in tow, yelling good night at Sunghoon like they’re not going to see him for months. 
Minjeong places her palms flat onto Sunghoon’s torso and looks right at him—to the best of her ability, at least, considering she’s having a hard time focusing her eyes. “Sunghoon,” she says gravely.
“Minjeong?”
“Listen, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” she says, slurring her words. “You know I love Y/N, she’s amazing…”
“Yeah, she is,” Sunghoon says firmly—already, he can tell where this is going, and he doesn’t like it.
“But she’s not the best with relationships.”
“What do you mean?”
Minjeong’s hands drop by her sides and she exhales deeply. “I’ve just never seen her in a committed relationship in the-in the almost four years I’ve known her. She never lets things get serious. She’s just so afraid of being hurt, Hoon, and I-” 
A hiccup escapes Minjeong’s lips as tears start pooling in her eyes. Sunghoon has only ever seen Minjeong cry when drunk—even movies that had him sobbing barely made her eyes water. Even if she isn’t in her right state of mind, he knows it means this must be important to her. He holds her arms and tries to put on the most reassuring tone he can. “But I wouldn’t hurt her.”
“No, I know that. I’m scared you’d get hurt. I don’t want things to become weird between all of us.”
Sunghoon shakes his head. “Minjeong, what-that wouldn’t happen.”
“But it will!” she exclaimed. “If something happens with you and her, and it doesn’t work out the way you want it to, it’ll make things awkward-”
“If that happens,” he interrupts, “I’ll deal with it. I won’t make it your guys’ problem. Y/N and I are adults, okay?”
“You’re like, nineteen…”
“Yeah, whatever. Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll be fine.” He takes a step back and opens the door for her to get in. 
She’s only on the first stair when she turns back around. “But, Hoon-” she tries, though he cuts her off.
“Minjeong, I promise-”
“Just don’t rush into anything, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Go inside.” 
She complies, giving him one last look before climbing the stairs to her apartment. Sunghoon closes the door behind her, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.
--
Sunghoon is on his way home from hockey practice when his phone buzzes with a text from you.
yn are you still up for doing something this week?
He almost throws his phone in the air in celebration, as if it was a graduation cap. His Sunday was spent going back-and-forth between lapidating himself for his drunken stupidity, memories, rough as stones, hitting him in the face every time he thought of what he said and how he acted, and congratulating himself for having finally made his feelings for you somewhat clearer. Hopefully, you now know he isn’t just awkward and silent around new people—well, he is, but it’s worse with you.
She never lets things get serious.
Minjeong’s warnings echo in his head as he types a positive — although not over-enthusiastic, ‘cause that’d be uncool — answer, but he dismisses them easily. Perhaps he shouldn’t; Sunghoon is, after all, incredibly serious about any and all romantic encounters. The girl at the grocery store who reached for the same red bell pepper as him was the most serious thing to him in the world for a good ten minutes; all of his school crushes were of utmost importance to him, however long they had lasted.
So this? This is capital-s Serious. But therein lies the problem; he’s so serious about you that he’d let you not make it serious. If Minjeong is right, and you’re not planning on taking this nearly as far as he wishes for it to go, he can already tell he’ll just let you. He’ll probably be happy you wanted anything to do with him at all. 
He has ways of reassuring himself, of convincing himself he isn’t a totally lost cause. Because when Sunghoon falls in love — and he had an inkling this was what this was — it usually goes as quickly as it came. Who’s to say this time next week he won’t have completely moved on? Maybe this date that he’s agreed to will go horribly wrong, you’ll be rude to the waiter, you’ll spill tomato sauce all over your shirt, and the flame in his heart will be put out. Easy as that.
You decide to meet on Wednesday evening, two days from now. Sunghoon suggests a Japanese restaurant he likes, a place he had gone to with his mom and sister when they had dropped him off at university before his first year, and that he knows is nice enough for a date but won’t burn a hole through his wallet.
Seeing you at the library the day before is a real thrill. Nobody but you knows of your plans—at least not until he caves in and tells Jay about it, who congratulates him with a roll of his eyes and a pat on the head. All of your eye contact feels loaded with the kind of complicity that comes with sharing a secret. As much as he would love boasting about it to every soul who’d listen, this secrecy electrifies him—it binds the two of you with something much more real than before. At least, more real than Sunghoon’s imagination and one-sided feelings. He knows that your text wasn’t in any way a confession of your own feelings for him, but it’s a step in the right direction.
In the few hours before your reservation at seven p.m., Sunghoon spends so much time thinking about the date that he’s almost late for it. He thinks about his expectations, then tries to get rid of them; he comes up with ideas of what your expectations might be, remembers Minjeong’s words, dismisses them, remembers them again; he goes through scenarios upon scenarios of everything that might go wrong and everything that might go spectacularly well. He ends up with less than twenty minutes to get ready, but manages to arrive at the restaurant a minute before you.
When he sees you approaching, Sunghoon feels like one of those boys in Disney movies as they watch their girlfriend coming down the stairs in her prom dress. You’re not wearing an over-the-top poofy purple dress, but the effect is the same—his eyes are glued on you with every step you take towards him.
You grab him by the arm and lead him into the restaurant as soon as you reach him. He’s too busy taking in your appearance to be bothered by it. “Don’t look at me like that,” you chide as you wait for waiting staff to seat you. He’d actually think you were mad at him if it wasn’t for the small smile playing on your lips.
“Like what?”
“Like what you’re doing right now! You’re staring.”
Realization slowly dawns on him; your gazes have made him lose his composure too many times for him not to know what being flustered looks like. He’d be lying if the fact that it was you in this tight spot and not him didn’t heavily stroke his ego. 
“Why wouldn’t I? You look beautiful,” he says, dropping his voice to a whisper so that the approaching waitress can’t hear. Her presence saves you from responding verbally, but as she brings you to your table, you pinch his arm lightly as if to say Be on your best behavior—although Sunghoon would argue this was his best behavior.
You have trouble making up your mind about the food—you want to try everything on the menu. Sunghoon tentatively offers to order a bunch of dishes and share them. “It’s what my family always does at the restaurant, just try as much as you want and take the leftovers to go. We never ate out very often because my mom would spend so much money every time,” he recollects, smiling fondly.
“That actually sounds like a dream. My parents would never do that. It was always just eat what you got, but I’m unable to look at someone else’s food and not want to try it. It honestly should just be common practice to share dishes at the restaurant.”
Sunghoon thinks he could get down on one knee right then and there. Whenever they went out to eat, the boys would roll his eyes at him when he stole bites of their food. But you—you’re like him. He knows he’s prone to over-exaggeration, but he can’t help but feel like if you understand each other on this, you must understand each other at a molecular level.
He had expected a level of awkwardness to your date, at least at the beginning — God knows the moments in which he doesn’t feel like a mumbling fool in front of you are few and far between — but to his surprise, everything goes smoothly. There is no uncomfortable silence, all his jokes miraculously land, even the lousy ones, and you both laugh and talk and share sushi and pork cutlets like it’s the most natural thing in the world, which perhaps it is. His attempts at flirting are well-received and he only turns violently red twice when you compliment him and smile at him in a particularly pretty way.
It’s that day at the beach all over again. Always on the same page, you dip in and out of topics with a synergy he has rarely felt before. Sunghoon realizes it must be the presence of others, rather than you yourself, that makes him feel like he can’t act the way he wants to around you, makes him so nervous. Save for the moments where you make his heart flutter like a thousand butterflies’ wings, he actually feels quite at ease with you, all things considered. Of course, he still tries — and fails — to look cool for you, but he knows it comes from a place within himself rather than because you make him feel as though he has to meet a certain standard. Surprisingly, he can be totally himself, and it seems to be enough for you.
He loves his friends. He wouldn’t trade them for the world. But he’s not sure he won’t have moments where he’ll wish nothing more than for them all to go away and leave the two of you be.
You eat until you can’t anymore and are still left with enough food for another full meal. You only let him get the bill once he’s promised that next time will be on you. If it means there’ll be a next time, he’s more than happy with making that promise. The sun has set when you exit the restaurant. Sunghoon shivers as he steps outside, the temperature having gone down by at least four degrees in the last two hours.
You grab his hand; it warms him right up.
Your apartment is a thirty-minute bus ride away, but Sunghoon offers to walk you home. Anything to spend more time with you.
He spends the first few minutes of the walk worrying about his hand, whether it’s too clammy, whether it’s holding yours right, but he eventually relaxes into the touch. When a particularly chilly gust of wind blows, you drop his hand and hold onto his arm instead, inching closer to him for more warmth.  He only drank lemonade with his meal, but he feels blissfully light-headed.
Silence only arrives when you reach your doorstep. You stand in front of each other, Sunghoon looking down at his feet, you gazing out at the empty street. He knows this is the moment where he is supposed to kiss you. If there was a step-by-step guide on how to date — there probably is, but Sunghoon hasn’t resorted to such loser-like measures yet — this would probably be the moment where it would be written to just kiss her, you idiot. But nerves get the best of him.
At least, you’re there to save the day. You direct your gaze towards him, a bashful smile playing on your lips. “So… are you gonna kiss me now?” you ask, essentially reading his mind. 
He reacts immediately. “Y-yep. Yes. I am.” Heart racing, he takes a step towards you as he rests his hands on your waist. Then he changes his mind, and brings one hand up to your cheek. There’s an eyelash that has fallen below your eye; he brushes it out of the way with his thumb before leaning in and pressing his lips against yours.
In all of his late-night scenarios and daydreams of kissing you, he had never imagined something as good as this. You find your rhythm within seconds. It’s slow, almost hesitant, yet so tender, it makes Sunghoon’s heart ache. As your lips move against each other in perfect sync, as your hands find their way around Sunghoon’s neck, he realizes he should have known — this will not go away as quickly as it came.
Only when you grab a fistful of his hair, making him react viscerally and wrap his arm around your waist to bring you closer to him, does he remember where the two of you are. He leans back, then almost passes out when you chase his lips and press a shorter but just as sweet kiss there. He commits this view to memory—the smile on your lips, the glow on your face, the haziness in your eyes.
“Do you wanna come up?”
“Yes,” he replies immediately, and it makes you laugh. You grab his hand and lead him up the stairs and into your apartment.
“Are the girls in?” he asks as you lock the front door.
“Minjeong is at karaoke with her school friends, and Yunjin and Chaewon are at a dinner party somewhere.”
“Minjeong karaokes?”
“Get enough G&Ts in her and she’ll do anything.”
You turn on a small lamp in your room and take off your jacket. Sunghoon has been in your apartment before, but never in your room—at some point, he’ll spend an hour observing every photograph and trinket in detail, asking you about every backstory, but right now, he’s got more important things to tend to. His heart beats uncontrollably as you shut the door to your room and walk towards him, eyes gazing deeply into his. The corners of your lips rise when you tug at the bottom of his sweatshirt, a clear indicator that you want it off. He wastes no time in obliging.
The air is buzzing with electricity when your lips find each other again. You’re both more confident this time around, and so the kiss is deeper, your touches bolder. Everything happens quickly—one second, you’re standing in the middle of your room; the next, you’re laying on your bed, Sunghoon underneath you. 
“You know,” he says between kisses, “I’d really planned on being a gentleman and not going up to your room after the first date…”
Your lips move from his lips to his jawline, warm and soft against his skin. Sunghoon closes his eyes and lets out a low hum of approval. “I’m glad you changed your mind,” you whisper, lips brushing against his neck as you speak. “And since we’re onto confessions, I can finally say I’ve been wanting to do this since we met.”
This information sends his mind reeling. Not once had he been sure of how you felt about him — he even remembers you saying no to a kiss — and here you are, saying you’ve been wanting to kiss him since the beginning, just like he had. 
“You’re me,” he replies breathlessly.
“Hm?”
“I mean, me too.”
You pause your kisses to giggle, a sound so soft and intimate it has Sunghoon melting impossibly more. “You’re me?”
Unfortunately, he is too preoccupied by you to put a filter between the weird, half-formed thoughts in his brain and the words that leave his mouth. “Don’t question it,” he says, a smile audible in his voice, before moving his head and catching your lips. If he couldn’t stop himself from saying odd things, he could at least distract you from them.
Sunghoon thinks he’s doing a good job keeping himself together, until you roll your hips against his. It’s barely anything, but it sends waves of pleasure and anticipation through his body. His grip on your waist tightens, and when you repeat the motion, his hands sneakily find their way down your back and under your dress. Palms splayed against your ass, he brings you down closer to him. The second you moan into the kiss, he’s a goner. 
After that, it doesn’t take long for clothes to be discarded or for curious fingers to find the other’s waistbands. Your movements are hasty, messy—the tension that had built up over weeks of pining for you, after getting close to kissing you twice and thinking about it a hundred times more, it all comes crashing down in this moment, as his teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, as your hands pull at strands of his hair, as your bodies gently bump into each other. If someone asked Sunghoon right now how long he’d known you, he’d say years, not mere weeks. It couldn’t possibly be real that this much desire had accumulated inside of him — and inside of you, if your broken moans and rapid breathing are anything to go by — in just over a month. 
He only slows down when he has you naked and heaving underneath him, reminding himself to savor the moment instead of rushing it. His fingertips graze down your sides until they reach between your thighs, and he marvels at the way his touch makes you shiver. His eyes are so wide with amazement at the sight of you that he probably looks like he’s never seen a woman before, but he can’t help himself—he always thought you were beautiful, but this is something else entirely. 
His first touch is hesitant, a slow upward motion of his thumb between your folds as if quite literally testing the waters. But it has you arching your back and gripping his bicep, meeting his eyes to silently plead for more. Sunghoon takes that as his green light, thumb circling your clit as his lips continue their work on your neck, on your face, everywhere they can reach. He slips a finger inside of you, then a second one, and when he is satisfied with the state he’s gotten you in, all disheveled and gasping for air, he replaces his fingers with his dick, rock-hard just from seeing and hearing you.
He slowly inches forward until he’s bottomed out, letting you adjust around him. “All good?” he whispers, lips moving against the shell of your ear.
“Never better,” you whisper back, smiling. You kiss him, and the tenderness of your lips on his, mixed with the feeling of being inside you, has Sunghoon’s heart constricting inside his chest. He starts rocking his hips back-and-forth into you, the side of his face is pressed up against yours, head light from the little oxygen the two of you share. It all feels oddly intimate for a first time, feels more like the kind of sex two people would have after years of knowing each other’s bodies. He moves like it’s second nature, thrusts deep and slow, trying to reach those spots that have your hands clawing at his back. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, using his free hand to push the hair that sticks to your face with sweat.
You wrap your legs higher around his hips, the shift in angle letting him go deeper. “Fuck, right there,” you say, voice strangled. Sunghoon doesn’t need to be told twice—he picks up his pace, and already within a minute, starts to feel himself reaching his limit. He tries to muffle his groans against your skin, but with the way your hold on him tightens and your moans go higher in pitch, you seem to be just as close as he is. When you do come undone around him, breath hitching in your throat before you release a heavy sigh, he has mere seconds left in him. A few thrusts later, his orgasm finally releases him from the tension that had been twisting his stomach into a knot for the past half-hour. You’re both spent, but he continues lazily rocking his hips against yours chasing the last remnants of pleasure, wanting to bask in it just a bit longer. He rolls onto his back after sliding out, wrapping his arms around you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck.
His chest rises and falls as his breathing takes its time returning to normal. In a way, he’s almost relieved it’s over, like any longer would’ve actually taken too much of a toll on him. He likes the comfort he gets from having you in his arms as much as the sex itself. “I didn’t know it could feel this good,” he says, the words spilling out of his mouth before he can stop them. He needs more than a few minutes to get his head back on straight and start thinking before he speaks again. You chuckle airily, he chuckles too, and within seconds, you’re both laughing for seemingly no reason. The bliss of such an intense orgasm and the lack of oxygen must have gone to your brain, too.
“Me either,” you say once the laughter dies down. When your lips find his once more, Sunghoon forgets entirely about his exhaustion and feels like he could go for a second round. “Shower?” you ask right when he realizes how sticky and smelly he is.
“Yes, please.”
He can’t keep his hands off of you in the shower, rubbing soap on every square inch of your skin when you could do it perfectly fine yourself, kissing you even when you’ve both got foaming cleanser on your faces. The taste of soap in his mouth is worth the giggles he gets out of you.
Sunghoon reaches heaven when you drop to your knees in front of him, water rushing down his back as you take him in your mouth. He’s eager to return the favor, of course, thumb flicking your clit with a speed and dexterity even he didn’t know he was capable of. If you weren’t already in the shower, you’d have needed another one.
As soon as your bodies hit the mattress, you both drift off to sleep, limbs wrapping around each other as though they had been separated for too long and finally found each other again—not to let go again.
--
When Sunghoon wakes up, it takes him a few seconds to realize that he hadn’t dreamt up last night’s events. He reaches a hand out hesitantly, still half-asleep and scared that you’ll disappear into thin air at the touch of his fingertips. But no—he feels your skin, warm and soft, and he knows this is real.
You’re laying on your side, facing away from him, so he has to strain his neck to peek at your face. You look so peaceful as you sleep—he doesn’t want to wake you up, but he can’t stop himself from wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing his torso against your back, humming contentedly to himself. He presses a soft, quiet kiss to the top of your head, just because he can.
Outside, clouds part, and a bright ray of sun shines through the window, landing right on your face. Sunghoon watches as you grumble and turn around, burying your face in his chest to avoid the blinding light, but the damage is done—you’re awake. He can tell from the drawled-out whine you let out and the way you grab tightly onto his waist, as if it was his fault the sun had decided to shine right on you. 
He lets you settle in a comfortable position. Stays still as you hike your leg over his legs, then slip it between them instead; as you press your cheek against his chest, then bury your nose in his neck; as you wrap your arm around his waist, then move it to thread your fingers through his hair, until you give up on falling back asleep altogether. “It’s so bright in here,” you mumble in lieu of a good-morning greeting.
You can’t see him, so Sunghoon smiles and tightens his grip around you—one arm circling your shoulders, the other, your waist. Skin to skin. “We forgot to close the blinds yesterday.”
“It’s okay,” you say, sighing. You press a kiss to the base of his neck, right between his collarbones, then lift your face to look at him. “How are you feeling?”
This is what it feels like to wake up next to her, Sunghoon thinks. He’d thought about it so many times: what you would look like first thing in the morning, what you’d say to him, what it’d feel like when your eyes met. If you’d be a slow sort of morning person, cuddling in bed with him until the very last possible second, or if you’d be up and about as soon as you woke up. If you’d be grumpy. If you’d want coffee. If you liked morning sex. 
It seems to be a recurring theme that Sunghoon’s imagination never quite lives up to reality. Your sleepy eyes boring into his, struggling to stay open, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck; your skin, so warm and so soft, your scent, so intoxicating he can barely think straight.
You’re better than a dream.
“I feel great. Do you feel great?”
“I feel amazing, thank you so much for asking,” you say, burrowing yourself impossibly closer to him.
The two of you stay like this for a while, talking about your plans for the day and begrudging how little you want to go about them. Sunghoon wishes this could go on forever, but then his stomach growls so loudly, his face turns red from embarrassment. He hadn’t even noticed how hungry he was. 
“You’re me,” you say, laughing, and Sunghoon can’t help but join in. “Is it crazy to have last night’s leftovers for breakfast?”
What Sunghoon hears is that you want him to stay; that you don’t want to part ways just yet.
“If by crazy you mean the best idea ever, then yes.”
“Amazing, because I’ve been thinking about that curry all night.”
“Really? I was thinking about something else,” he says, burrowing his face in your neck and leaving warm kisses there. 
You hum and lean into his touches, leaning into his touches. Chills run down his spine as your nails graze his sides. “There might’ve been other things occupying my mind, too.”
And just like that, breakfast is postponed to thirty minutes later.
--
After that night, Sunghoon forgets how to act right.
His mind has never been so singularly taken up by sex in all of his life. It was already preoccupied with you most of the time, but now that it has more material to gnaw on, it’s practically started to eat away at him. It doesn’t help that you’ve seen each other every day since, or that at every chance you get, you smile knowingly at him or try to get him to play footsies with you. Of course, he loves every bit of attention that he gets from you, but whenever he feels his heart get carried away, Minjeong’s words come back to him in a panic, and he remembers that he has no idea what it is that’s happening between you and him. You could be stringing him along, for all he knows, or you could be as into him as he is into you and just letting things happen. Unfortunately, just letting things happen was not something Sunghoon was good at—if things weren’t written black and white, he’d find a way to overthink even the littlest of details. Like how you’d kissed him for a good five minutes before letting him leave your apartment, otherwise known as the least platonic parting to exist, or conversely, like how you’d sometimes take hours to reply to texts.
If he was already a mumbling fool in front of you before, his condition has only worsened now. He tries his best to be normal and not make you or anyone in the group feel weird, but the fact is that you rocked his world and now he can’t look you in the eyes and not remember how it felt when you touched him or the sounds you made or the way you looked. It’s all playing in a loop in his mind and the only way he knows how to control it is by limiting his interactions with you, which doesn’t even work that well. 
The first couple days, you seem amused by his shyer-than-usual demeanor, but you quickly grow confused more than anything. Sunghoon won’t sit next to you, only speaks to you when necessary, doesn’t seek you out outside of a group setting. He tells himself he just needs some more time to be able to be around you casually again, but before that happens, one day at the library, you make a point to ask him if he’ll come help you get drinks for everyone from the dispenser machine. He knows it’d be too odd to say no, so he follows you.
He presses the buttons for everyone’s order (a Sprite for him, Diet Cokes for the girls, a Red Bull for Jake who has a midterm tomorrow and nothing for Jay who only swears by his disgusting herbal infusion) as you lean against the machine, arms crossed over your chest as you stare at him.
He has never felt so awkward in his life.
“So…” he starts although he has no idea what to say—he hopes something will just appear in his mind and that it’ll alleviate the tension. However, you seem to have other plans.
“What the hell, Sunghoon?” you say, taking him aback. When he glances at you, you don’t seem angry—just genuinely confused. “You’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”
“I haven’t!”
“Sunghoon,” you say sternly. He gives in right away.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I just-I didn’t know what to do. After we, you know…”
“After we had sex?” you say, then burst into laughter when he looks around the room to make sure no one’s heard. His cheeks heat up.
“Yes, after we had sex,” he whispers.
He pays for the drinks and picks them up. When he looks at you again, your smile has completely died down, and worry has settled into your features. “Do you regret it?” you ask, voice now as low as his. As if it hurts to say the words too loud.
Panic overcomes him, and he almost drops half of the drinks as he shakes his head. “No, of course not! I’m really sorry, Y/N, I never meant to be weird about it, I was just trying to wrap my head around everything, and I just… Well, I just didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”
You nod, taking his words in. “That’s fine. I get it. I just wanted to say, you know, it doesn’t have to change anything. We can still be friends and all. Like you said, it shouldn’t make things weird.”
Sunghoon’s stomach drops. He knows you’re trying to make him feel better, but you’ve inadvertently said the exact opposite of what he wanted to hear. He doesn’t want things to stay the same, or for you to stay friends. For him, things can’t go back to normal after that night — whatever normal means for the two of you — and he was foolishly hoping that you felt the same.
But clearly, you want to let the whole thing die and pretend like it never happened. And whether it’s a good thing or not, his feelings for you have grown so much, he’ll just let you lead him anywhere. Even if that turns out to be nowhere. 
So he conjures up the most convincing smile he can, hands you half of the drinks to carry, and says, “Yeah, sounds good.”
--
After that conversation, Sunghoon doesn’t think anything else will happen between the two of you. You had sex, you talked it out, and that’s the end of it. But then, it turns out that both of your last midterms are at the same time, in the same building, so you invite him to celebrate with pork belly and some drinks. Sunghoon is finishing his second beer when he starts to feel like he’s on that date again, laughing for no reason, butterflies in his stomach every time his gaze catches yours. You lean on your hand as you listen to him talk about a stupid memory from his childhood and he thinks he’s never seen anyone as pretty as you. 
The sun has long set when you say, “You know, it’s Wednesday today.”
He’s not sure what you’re trying to get at. “Yeah?”
“Minjeong’s out at karaoke tonight.”
With these simple words, all the images of you that Sunghoon had finally managed to banish from his mind come flooding back, and he is not even surprised to find himself half-naked in your bed thirty minutes later. So much for staying friends—one time is one thing, but Sunghoon knows he’ll never be normal again after a second time with you.
It’s not a long time before he finds himself in your room again. Every item of clothing between the two of you is gradually discarded while you kiss, lips growing more impatient with every inch of bare skin uncovered. He reluctantly lets you go when you suddenly giggle and say that you really need to pee, watching as you grab his t-shirt off the floor and put it on, just in case Minjeong comes home. You wear it like it’s yours, like it’s the most natural thing in the world that you’d be wearing his clothes. An indescribable feeling washes over Sunghoon at the sight, so intense he feels tears welling behind his eyes. Like something he’s been yearning for is finally at the grasp of his fingers; like it might slip away at any moment. 
His feelings must’ve transpired in the way he was looking at you—when you meet his eyes, your expression shifts slightly, and you quickly slip out of your room. He tells himself to reel it in. Get it together, he thinks. Or you’ll drive her away. 
A wave of tiredness hits him in the minute that you’re gone, probably due to all that soju and beer. “I’m back,” you whisper, but he doesn’t move, only opens his arms wide for you to get back into bed with him. It’s like a weight is lifted off his heart when he feels you against him again. You’re back. Your face is fresh, as if you’d splashed it with cold water, but when he slips one of his hands underneath your (his) t-shirt, your skin is still just as warm as before. Far from the fuzzy, tingly feeling he had gotten when you’d woken up together the other morning, now, he feels his desire for you deep in the pit of his stomach. The kind of hunger food couldn’t satisfy. “I missed you,” he whispers, voice low and gravelly. He reacts immediately when you squirm against him, tightening his grip around your waist and pulling you to him.
“I was gone two minutes.”
“I mean these past few days. I was starting to think I’d dreamt you up.” His hand on your lower back sneaks its way up between your bodies until it finds your breasts, cupping one of them with his palm before taking your nipple between his thumb and index, gently twisting. It pulls a half-gasp, half-moan from your throat, and the sound goes straight to his dick. “But you’re real, aren’t you?” 
“Very real,” you reply, a tremor in your voice. He’s barely touching you, and you’re already having trouble breathing. Sunghoon smiles at the idea of him having as much of a hold on you as you do on him.
“Good,” he says, voice so low it’s almost a growl. In one quick sweep, he pushes you down so your back is against the mattress, resting his palms on each side of your head.
He’s inside you within mere minutes. He’d wanted to hold back a bit, but you whispering Just put it in after thirty seconds of his fingers loosening you up was enough to convince him. His mind is already fuzzy with remnants of alcohol, and his overwhelming desire for you only makes matters worse. He barely has any control over his movements, rushed and sloppy, but as he drives himself deeper into you, your moans increase in volume. He only later realizes how tight his grip on your hips is when he sees two small bruises forming on the skin there. 
He comes quickly, probably embarrassingly so, but he can’t bring himself to care—he’s got other things on his mind. He’s not even bothered to discard the condom as he makes his way down your body, lips around your clit before you’ve even had the time to register what was happening. You cry out, a sound that Sunghoon works to pry out of you over and over again. Even when your thighs start shaking and you squirm away from him, he doesn’t relent. He’s just as desperate to make you feel good as he was desperate chasing his own pleasure earlier. He hooks his arms around your thighs, bringing you down to him and ensuring that you can’t get away. One hand still in his hair, the other clutching the bed sheets, you’ve turned your face sideways into the pillow so that your moans come out muffled. He is only satisfied when you’ve reached your second orgasm. 
As your breath slowly returns to normal, Sunghoon makes his way back up your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. You clear your throat of its dryness and burst into soft, quiet laughter. “What’s funny?” Sunghoon murmurs, lips against your neck. 
“Nothing,” you say, still laughing. “That was just really, really nice.”
Sunghoon smiles. “I’m glad,” he says before kissing you, lips moving slowly against yours.
As he lays against you, the top of his head under your chin and your fingernails grazing along his back, a weird feeling overcomes him. Sunghoon is usually a pine-from-afar sort of guy, with at least five instances of hanging out that could or could not be a date before making things any sort of official. The pining has been a constant with all of his crushes. He’s gotten to the hanging out stage a couple of times, but the officialising has only happened once. Despite its low success rate, it’s a cycle Sunghoon feels comfortable with, and he’d imagined the rest of his romantic encounters would follow that pattern. 
But this is completely different. Of the three times you guys have met separately from your friend group, already two times have included sex. This isn’t a stage Sunghoon usually reaches before at least a few months and it disorientates him. What does it mean? That you like him so much, you decided to skip all of the steps and jump straight into the thick of it? He is reasonable enough not to delude himself into such a thought. He likes you a lot—that much he can be sure of. He’s liked you since the moment he laid eyes on you, even if the reason eludes him. Something in the way you smiled at him, the way you took him in stride as if you’d known him forever. When he thinks back to that party, he can’t believe it started out as the two of you being strangers. Even now, feeling your warm skin against his, it feels like a lie that just two months ago he hadn’t even met you. 
What he can’t say with total certainty is that you like him the same amount. Or that you like him any amount, really, although in his naivety he doesn’t understand how anyone could be this intimate with another person without liking them at least a little bit. And he doesn’t just mean the sex. He means this. The silently laying in each other’s arms, the soft kisses, the caresses wherever hands can reach. Eating post-sex snacks together, laughing as you watch the first episode of each other’s favorite sitcoms (Brooklyn Nine-Nine for him, Pen15, oddly enough, for you). Falling asleep together, cuddling the entire night then waking up and diving right back into each other’s embrace. 
After an entire day spent in rumination, Sunghoon’s still not sure what to make of it all.
All he knows is that when he DMs you that night, asking you how your day went, he goes through every emotion between anxiety, self-hatred and indifference in the five minutes that separate his text from your reply. He’s never been so happy to hear that someone couldn’t concentrate in class because of him.
--
Sunghoon has always been obsessed with the way couples stand together in public. 
Every time, it takes everything in him not to stare, because he wants to take in every little thing they do. He has that practically everywhere he goes, wanting to stare at people just to see what their deal is, but he is never quite as simultaneously fascinated and envious as when he spots a couple. But he knows staring isn’t the socially appropriate thing to do, so he either steals glances or watches for a little bit then pretends they aren’t there. He can’t help himself—even if they aren’t holding hands or obnoxiously making out in public, it’s still visible to anyone with eyes that there is something tying these people together. It’s in the way they stand near each other, their bodies turned inwardly, as though enveloped by a bubble containing just the two of them and no one else; in the way they look at each other, their eyes never straying from the other’s face as they talk, intimacy showing itself even in a loud, crowded room. Sunghoon craves to find that proximity, to be able to touch and be touched so softly, every graze of a hand purposeful and unconscious at the same time.
It’s the first of November already. The Weather app, as it tends to do, has deceived you; so instead of a walk on what was supposed to be a sunny day, you find yourselves in a busy café near the University, the air outside too chilly even with your scarves and gloves. You’re waiting for your order at the end of the counter — a mocha for him, an oat flat white for you — when he notices it. Your body is fully facing him, you’re distractedly playing with the hem of his sweatshirt, and you’re not looking at anything but him as you rant about that annoying classmate of yours that goes by a self-made nickname and always talks over the tutor. In this light, the two of you are like the couples he’s always longed to be—the simple thought makes him want to cry. As more and more often is the case these days, you have no idea what you’re doing to him.
It’s been around two months since you first met and in that time, although Sunghoon is lucky not to have enough fingers to count the number of times you have seen each other one-on-one, not much has happened. Minjeong, who had understood what was going on the first time she saw the two of you eating leftovers from the Japanese restaurant on the couch at 10 a.m., has grown accustomed to his presence in the apartment and even sometimes sits down to watch a movie with the two of you—a movie that Chaewon would usually have forced you to watch in the living room instead of the privacy of your bedroom, so that everyone could join. Sunghoon is just glad Minjeong has stopped silently scolding him with her eyes every time he comes out of your room. She never mentions that night when she essentially warned him against you after the party. 
Jake seems to be the only oblivious one in your group. Yunjin and Chaewon have eyes like hawks and horrifyingly vivid imaginations when they put their heads together, so they were probably already making plans for your wedding and fighting for the title of godmother when you and Sunghoon met at the beginning-of-semester party. They cornered him once at a party and forced him to spill the beans and spare no detail, because you apparently were “denying everything, but we know there’s something going on.” Jay is still Sunghoon’s go-to person when he needs advice concerning you, although the older boy doesn’t understand why it has to be so complicated and always tells him to “just tell her how you feel,” which Sunghoon will not do unless there is a gun to his head. But Jake just seems happy to see his friend and his sister get along this well—no matter how many times you wear his jacket at their games or disappear at the same time at the end of parties, he doesn’t grow suspicious. If he does, he doesn’t mention it to Sunghoon, at least.
Between the two of you, not a word is spoken about the nature of your relationship, which remains unbearingly undefined. For a while, he weakly convinces himself that he doesn’t need to have that conversation with you. He’s young, he’s free, he should be able to enjoy casual sex without putting a label on it. The main problem, though, was that the sex could not be further from casual, at the very least not to Sunghoon.
He has never known anything quite like it. In mere weeks, you’ve both mastered the art of pleasuring each other. He understands your body like it’s his, knows what each of the sounds and expressions you make means. He knows where to touch you to have a kiss go from light-hearted to dizzyingly intense, how to move his mouth to have you arching your back and holding onto him for dear life. And you—he thinks your skin must be laced with cocaine, the way he can never get enough of it. 
But it’s always the moments afterwards that get him in his head. To him, casual sex means getting dressed the minute it’s over and going off to do other things, which is the absolute opposite of what you do. Whether it’s falling asleep together or spending Sundays in bed, you always stay together afterwards, curled up in each other’s arms as you talk away the hours, conversations interspersed with slow, lazy kisses. He’ll say things like, “You’re so pretty,” or “Why do you smell so good?” because he’s so smitten with you that he can never stop himself from uttering every compliment that flashes through his brain, but the things he really wants to say are harder to speak out loud. Even just a What are we?—three simple words that he can’t bring himself to ask, too scared it’ll ruin everything. 
Arguably worse is that sex isn’t even a requirement for when you and Sunghoon see each other. He goes on walks with you whenever you’ve spent too much time in the library and need some fresh air. You go shopping with him when his department throws a fundraiser and he needs a formal outfit. He cooks you your favorite meal when your period is particularly nasty. You sneak into the ice rink after his practice and let him ‘teach’ you how to skate, even though you already learned how with Jake when you were kids. Even mundane moments become fun when spent with you, and you share so many hobbies and interests that you never run out of things to do or talk about.
And yet, it feels like one step forward, two steps back with you—if you let him close one night, you’ll run away the next. A week will pass without you seeing each other outside of the library or group hang-outs, and if Sunghoon asks you out, you’ll say no, usually blaming the amount of work you have. He gets it—due to the nature of your degree and your being a fourth-year student, your workload is much heavier than his, with essays, translations and oral presentations due every other week. And that’s not even including midterms and finals. But still, he doesn’t see why you would need to stay at the library for ten hours straight for days on end. He’d start worrying about your health if you didn’t at least relax on weekends. 
So while Sunghoon wants nothing more than to go all in with you, he senses you holding back. He notices you avoiding eye contact during particularly intimate moments, and when you look at him perhaps too fondly for your liking, you quickly catch yourself and resume your neutral, sometimes almost cold expression. When he tries to broach more personal, sensitive topics, you always find a way to change the subject or turn the conversation towards him before you get too deep. 
As time passes, and especially as exam season nears, he can tell there’s something that you’re not telling him about. His suspicions are confirmed when you come back from a weekend at your parents’ house. He’s also been away for an out-of-town hockey game, and because he hasn’t had much time to text you (and because their team won, so he wants to show off a little), he’s particularly looking forward to seeing you again that Monday. It’s only been three days since you’ve last seen each other, but he misses you like crazy. 
But the minute you’re back, you bury yourself in work like never before, often waking up at ungodly hours and staying at the library until midnight. More than once, he stays behind with you, long after the others have gone, reminding you gently every hour that it might be time to go home and get some rest. The moments you actually agree are few and far between, and although he sticks it out at first, sleeping with his head on the table until you tell him you’re ready to go, your stubbornness soon starts frustrating him, and he ends up leaving when he gets too tired. He knows this is important to you, but he doesn’t understand why you have to go to these lengths—you’d still easily be one of the best students in your class without all this exertion. And despite his many attempts, you won’t tell him what’s wrong, won’t even admit that something is wrong—you keep repeating that “it’s just what exam season is like.”
When he asks your friends about it, they seem just as confused as he is. One evening when you have plans to order some food and watch a movie at your apartment, he shows up at the agreed time, but you’re nowhere to be found. Thankfully, the girls are there to let him up and not leave him standing outside in the rain. You don’t pick up when he calls you and call him back a minute later, apologizing profusely but still saying that there’s something you really need to finish first. If it was only a one-time thing, it wouldn’t make him as angry as it does—but this has been going on for almost two weeks now, and Sunghoon is close to boiling point. 
The fact that it’s been months since your date at the Japanese restaurant, and the only thing that you’ve said about what was happening between you and Sunghoon “didn’t have to change anything.” The fact that you’re essentially each other’s boyfriend and girlfriend without the label or the reassurance that comes with it. The fact that there’s something clearly bothering you but that you won’t tell him about it. The fact that this something is effectively coming between the two of you. Sunghoon was originally more worried about you than anything—now that studying has taken obvious precedence over him in your list of priorities, he’d be lying if he said his ego wasn’t wounded. He isn’t asking to be the number one most important thing in your life, and he knew before even meeting you that high academic performance meant a lot to you, but he likes to think he deserves at least a little bit of your time and attention. 
Except, does he really? It’s not like you’re actually dating.
There’s a pang in his heart as he remembers this fact that he should never have forgotten in the first place. It hurts—and so perhaps, he’s less patient than he ought to be.
“Whatever, Y/N. Don’t worry about it, just let me know when you have time for something other than getting As.”
He hangs up and meets your flatmates’ worried eyes. 
“She still at the library?” Chaewon asks, tone delicate as if trying not to scare off a wounded animal. Sunghoon nods, a deep sigh escaping his mouth. 
“She always studies a lot,” Minjeong starts, “but this is something else.”
“Have you guys tried saying something?”
The girls nod. “Even Jake has talked to her, but she won’t listen. And he usually always gets to her,” Minjeong says. 
He goes home soon afterwards and spends the rest of his evening in rumination, torn between his worry and his anger towards you—emotions which only increase as more days pass, and he sees less and less of you. Your behavior was already concerning while preparing for your exams and final assignments, it gets even worse when exams actually do start. He doesn’t hear from you for an entire week, and the one time you miraculously agree to a short group hang-out in the form of getting coffee, you’re only half there, physically present but mind far, far away. You barely react when the guys tell you about their victory at the latest hockey game—which you didn’t attend, as well as any other game recently. 
No matter how much he tries to put it out of his mind, to focus on his own exams and hockey games, you stay at the forefront of his thoughts. The hockey team is away for another out-of-town game when he decides to broach the subject with Jake, with whom he’s sharing a room. The entire semester, he’s been careful not to raise Jake’s suspicions about the two of you, both out of consideration for you, who’d mentioned you didn’t want your brother to know what was going on, and for himself, who would also rather Jake not know, at least not until your relationship became official. Which it never did. But now that all he gets from you is radio silence at a time when you’d usually be an hour into a FaceTime call, he can’t help himself.
Jake is just coming out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel, when Sunghoon takes his shot in the dark. “Have you heard from Y/N recently?” he asks as nonchalantly as he can, pretending to not be avidly waiting for his friend’s reaction by keeping his eyes on his phone.
“Y/N?” Jake echoes. “No, not really. Why?”
“Just ‘cause I haven’t seen her around much. I’m wondering if everything’s okay.”
“You mean her staying at the library all day?” Sunghoon nods; Jake sighs. “Yeah, she’ll snap out of it soon enough. She gets somewhat like this every time exams come around, but even I have to admit it’s pretty tough this time around. The last time I saw her like this was way back in high school, and that’s because our parents were watching right over her shoulder. It’s been better in university thanks to the distance.”
“So this has to do with your parents?”
“Oh, one hundred percent. She’s always wanted to do well at school, but she only gets this obsessive when our parents are involved.”
“I guess this did start after that weekend when she went home…” Sunghoon muses absent-mindedly. It could’ve passed off as an off-hand remark, but Jake pauses in his movements and looks at him warily.
“Yeah, she did… You noticed that, huh?”
Sunghoon pauses. This whole time, he was sure Jake was oblivious to anything happening between you and him—but he might have underestimated his friend. Like brother, like sister; he can hardly read either of you when he really needs to. Jake might genuinely be surprised that Sunghoon remembered your whereabouts that weekend, or he’s onto him. “I guess I did,” he finally says, going for as noncommittal an answer as he can.
Jake says nothing for a bit, and Sunghoon thinks he’s managed to get through the conversation without raising too much suspicion—until a minute later, when Jake speaks again. “Do you… like Y/N?”
Sunghoon freezes, snapping his head towards Jake, who’s lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. His first instinct is to deny, but there’s no point pretending anymore. It’s one thing keeping it from Jake—lying to him about it is something else entirely. It’s an uncomfortable conversation, but it must be had. “Yeah, I do,” Sunghoon replies, guilt clear in his voice, more because he’s only now admitting it to Jake than because of his feelings themselves.
A shaky breath comes out of Jake’s mouth, as if this was the exact answer he had dreaded. “Right, okay. Since when?”
“Since I met her, basically.”
Jake’s head whips towards Sunghoon, and their gazes meet awkwardly. “Since that party in September?” he asks, shock written all over his face. Sunghoon nods, and to his surprise, Jake bursts out laughing. “Don’t tell me it’s because you accidentally matched costumes?”
Sunghoon looks away, frowning. “That might’ve helped things along,” he mumbles, embarrassment washing over him as Jake’s laughter intensifies. At least he was taking it well—a bit too well, perhaps.
“You’re so predictable, man,” Jake says when he’s calmed down, wiping a tear from his eye. 
“How did you know, anyway?”
“You’ve been pretty obvious with it recently,” Jake replies after a few seconds. “I could tell you were a bit shy around her at first, and when it got better I just thought you’d become friends or something. But when she showed up with your jacket at every game and you never left her side at parties, I assumed something else was going on. You’ve always been staying behind at the library these days, and I know you don’t have that much work.”
Sunghoon chuckles. “I guess I haven’t been trying hard to hide it lately.”
“Yeah, why would you hide it in the first place? You could’ve just told me.”
“I didn’t want to make things weird.”
Jake frowns. “It wouldn’t have been weird. If anything, hiding it makes it weirder.”
“I just thought, if one of my friends had a crush on my sister, I’d probably rather they hid it. Like, I don’t need to know about that,” Sunghoon says, and it makes Jake laugh.
“Dude, Y/N and I are only a year apart. Do you know how many guys have come up to me asking me for her number or advice on how to ask her out? It’s been, like, one every few months since middle school. Guys here especially have no shame telling me how hot they find her.”
Sunghoon makes a face. He doesn’t disagree, but he’d never go out of his way to tell your brother how exquisite you looked in certain outfits. “That’s gross.”
“Yeah, it is. But you’re my friend, not some greasy rando, so I trust you. If anything, I’d probably have to tell her to be nice to you, and not the other way around.”
“Yeah, you could say that again,” Sunghoon grumbles, then realizes his mistake immediately, eyes widening.
“What do you mean?” Jake asks, sounding genuine at first, but when Sunghoon stays quiet for a couple seconds, debating whether he should just lay the truth bare, Jake sits up on the bed and repeats his question, his tone much warier this time around. Sunghoon glances at him then looks away guiltily.
“Well, to be completely honest… We’ve sort of been seeing each other, kind of. But it’s complicated.”
Jake flops back down on his mattress with a grunt. “Who else knows?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes with his hands as if suddenly very exhausted.
“Everyone…”
“Everyone?!”
“Well, Jay, Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon.”
“So everyone.”
“Basically, yeah.”
“Great.” Jake sighs. “Since when?”
“Since October,” Sunghoon mumbles, feeling guiltier than ever. He’s belatedly realizing that it would’ve been much easier to have everything out in the open from the get-go, both with you and with Jake; now he’s both stuck in situationship limbo and has to face the consequences of keeping something this important from one of his closest friends. “Are you upset?” Sunghoon asks, feeling a bit like a ten-year-old.
“Kinda, yeah, but more at her than at you. I’ve told her not to go after anyone from the hockey team.”
“‘Cause of Heeseung?”
“Yeah. God, that was messy. He gave her mixed signals for so long, I could barely talk to him without thinking of her crying for so long. And now he’s the one who can’t quite look me in the eye,” Jake says, shaking his head at the mere thought of his captain.
“Was it that bad? She made it seem like it wasn’t that big of a deal.”
Jake raises his eyebrows. “Really? It upset her for a while though,” he says, then turns his head to look at the ceiling again. “I guess that’s not so surprising of her. She sometimes likes pretending she doesn’t have any emotions, even though I’m pretty sure she has more than most people.”
“Huh.” That would explain some things, Sunghoon muses. Emotions are not a topic that comes up very often with you, and every time he’s gotten an inkling of them, you seem to shut it all down immediately.
“But you know, I’m more surprised than anything. About… about it all, really. Not just that you’re only telling me now, but that it’s lasted this long. She must really like you.”
“You think?” Sunghoon says, his face brightening with hope, the words slipping from him before he can stop them once again. He shrinks when Jake laughs at him.
“Look at you. Down bad, huh?”
“Shut up.”
“But yeah, dude. I’ve told you about this. I’ve never seen her in a relationship, ever. Says she doesn’t have the time,” Jake says, air-quoting you. “I’ve only had the displeasure of seeing her go home with one-night-stands. You know that since she started college, she’s had a rule that she’d only see someone three times and that was it?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, so she wouldn’t catch feelings. I’m telling you, she’s crazy. So you must be special.”
Sunghoon can’t stop the smile from spreading on his lips—special. But it doesn’t make him feel that much better, either. “It’s not like we’re actually dating, so I’m not sure how special I can be…”
Jake’s head turns to look at Sunghoon again, but the younger boy keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling fan above him. “What’s happening between you guys?”
A blush creeps on Sunghoon’s cheeks. “Is this something you really want to talk about?”
“Well, spare me the gruesome details, please,” Jake says, chuckling, “but yeah, I would like to know what’s going on with my best friend and my sister.”
“I’m your best friend?” Sunghoon says, grinning as he meets Jake’s gaze, who rolls his eyes.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Fine.” He sighs. “Well, I didn’t think it would happen more than once-”
“What would happen more than once?”
Sunghoon pauses. “Well, you know…” Jake gives him a look as if to say, Well, no, I don’t know, so Sunghoon is forced to go on: “Sleeping together.”
“You guys slept together?!” Jake exclaims, sitting up on his bed once again.
“Yeah, what did you think?”
“I don’t know, just that you were going on dates, hanging out one-on-one, or whatever…”
“Well, we were.”
“Ugh, whatever,” Jake says, waving his hand in front of his face like swatting a fly away. “So, not just once, then?”
“No. And I thought it’d be a one-time thing, ‘cause a few days afterwards she said something about it not having to change our friendship…”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. But then it did. Happen again, I mean. And it’s been happening frequently since. But we’re not… dating dating. We haven’t had that conversation.”
Jake frowns. “Why not?”
Sunghoon releases a shaky breath. Why not, indeed. “‘Cause she hasn’t mentioned it. And I’m too scared to do it.”
“What are you scared of?”
“The typical stuff. What we have now… it’s not what I want, but it’s managed to not disrupt the group, you know. I’m scared that if I tell her how I feel, it’ll make things awkward between the two of us, and between all of us by extension.”
“Well, it might,” Jake says after thinking for a few seconds. “I wish I could tell you with certainty that she’ll like you back, but I honestly can’t. As obvious as you were towards her, she was not giving anything away.” Sunghoon chuckles, more out of self-deprecation than anything. This was not the pep talk he had hoped for. “But, I can tell you that she won’t be the type to make things awkward. You have nothing to risk by telling her, because in the long run, you’ll be better off that way. I know you, Sunghoon. You’ll be miserable if you can’t be fully yourself with someone.”
Decidedly, Sunghoon’s friends had a way of telling him the exact opposite of the things he wanted to hear while being completely right. He wishes things with you could stay the same — minus the overworking yourself and ignoring him in the process — and that he wouldn’t have to do anything that might make them change. But just as Jake said, he’d also reach a point where he couldn’t take it anymore—a point he was already inching closer and closer to with every passing day. He likes you enough to let you not define the relationship, but he likes you too much to let it go on. He likes you too much to not be able to tell you, and show you, and remind you of it every day. He hated having to hold back, and he hated feeling you holding back. He wanted to give you his all and he wanted all of you, too, not just bite-sized portions of you.
“You’re right,” he finally says. “I haven’t been able to talk to her lately, but I’ll have to tell her soon enough. When her exams are over, I guess.”
Jake sighs. “Yeah. I don’t know if there’s any getting through to her right now.”
“She’s blown me off so many times! I don’t know what she’s doing, spending so many hours in that library. I’d go insane.”
“She’s a perfectionist,” Jake says, shaking his head. “I’ve talked to her about it. When it comes to school, she needs everything to be as flawless as can be. She spends hours re-reading and editing her work. It’s not good.”
“Not really, no.”
“But she’s only got a week left. I’ll try to convince her not to go home for too long, and it’ll be better after the holidays. Then we’ll make sure there’s not a repeat of this next exam season.”
He thinks of Christmas break and of not seeing you for two weeks; of next semester and going through all of this with you a second time. The uncertainty, the fooling around behind your friends’ backs — although that might not be needed now that Jake is in on it too — Sunghoon’s not sure if he can go through it all again. “Yeah, we will.”
--
They lose their game the following day. They had an amazing run, either winning or tying every game so far; this loss is not enough to make them drop significantly in the rankings, but it’s enough to demoralize Sunghoon. It couldn’t have come at a worse time—between you and this failed game, his self-esteem is taking a real hit.
He dared hope for some comfort from you once he was back, but in vain. He doesn’t know why he imagined your attitude might’ve changed overnight, and when he texts you asking to hang out, the same old sorry I can’t atm fills his phone screen. And just like that, as strong as his feelings for you have been all this time, so is his resentment—unwarranted, perhaps, but he thinks he deserves better than this, and he’s both angry at you for not giving him anything and at himself for letting it happen.
Now, he’s the one who spends hours working himself to the bone in the ice rink, who’s clearly preoccupied with other things when everyone gets together, and who doesn’t even show up to the party the whole group goes to when you’re all done with exams. The last game before winter break is in two days, and he doesn’t want to waste a day nursing a hangover when he could be practicing.
That night, he thinks everyone is out at some random club downtown, so he does a double-take when it’s past eleven p.m. and you show up at the rink. He’s skating laps, practicing his speed and his goal-shooting, only noticing you when you’re standing in the middle of the rink. He almost skates right into you.
“Y/N?” he asks, not completely sure you’re not just a figment of his imagination. He’s so exhausted, he wouldn’t be surprised if he were dreaming you up.
“Jay texted me.”
“Oh. Why?” He’s out of breath, and the words come out blunter than he intends them to.
“Because it’s almost midnight and you’re still here,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. There’s a hint of a smile on your lips, but your eyebrows are furrowed in what looks like worry. It’s the first time Sunghoon’s seeing you concerned over something other than an assignment. 
He shrugs and resumes his laps, slower this time, forcing you to keep turning on your feet. “I’m practicing. There’s a big game coming up.”
“Which is exactly why you should be resting, like everyone else on your team right now.”
He resists rolling his eyes. “Why would I rest when I could be getting better?”
“Because you need rest as much as you need practice. You won’t be any use on the rink if you’re too tired to play properly.”
“And I won’t be any use if I can’t shoot properly, either.”
“Sunghoon, you need a break. You’re clearly exhausted-Will you stop it?” you suddenly snap. “I’m trying to talk to you, and I’m getting dizzy.” 
Your small outburst only has him growing more agitated, and even though he does stop, it’s more so you can see the annoyance on his face than anything. “You know, this is a bit rich coming from you, Y/N.” He knows this is not the right time to bring this up—if he has grievances against you, he shouldn’t be bringing them up when he’s already frustrated. He’s well aware of this, but he can’t help himself.
You scoff. “Excuse me?”
“You’re the one who spends twelve hours a day in the library during exams and does not budge even if I tell you you should go home.”
“That’s different-”
“How is it any different?” he interrupts, voice rising. “You don’t listen to me when you overwork yourself. I don’t see why I should.”
“So you realize that you’re overworking yourself?”
“Of course I do! But I have to.”
“No, you don’t-”
“Y/N, please. I have to win as much as you have to get the top grades. Is it actually necessary? No, but you know how shit it feels not to.”
“And it’s exactly because I know that feeling that I’m telling you to stop. You’re just feeding into it.”
“So are you, staying until 2 a.m. in the library. You’ve never once gone home when I asked you to.”
“Again, that’s different-”
“How?! How is it different? Please enlighten me, ‘cause they’re the exact same thing to me.”
You sigh. A sudden sadness appears on your face. Sunghoon is torn between wanting to see this to its end and taking everything he’s said back. But he keeps quiet, and your eyes, when they meet his again, harden. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”
“Yes.”
As if you couldn’t say your next words while looking at him, you tear your gaze away from his face. “Because I’m actually concerned about you, here. The only reason you want me to stop and go home is so we can fuck.”
Sunghoon is so astounded that all words fail him—he stares at you, mouth wide open like you just shot him. After a few seconds, all he’s able to come up with is an incredulous, “What?” His voice is a mere whisper. 
“You heard me,” you say coldly.
He closes his mouth and swallows. “So… you’re the one who’s worried, and I’m only after sex?”
You glance at him. “Yeah.”
A chuckle escapes Sunghoon’s throat, then another, until laughter spills out of him uncontrollably. He feels like the world is upside down. How could you have lived the same thing and come out of it with such different perspectives? Your account of his intentions with you is so ridiculous and unfathomable to him that he can’t do anything but laugh.
You seem taken aback at first, but your surprise quickly turns into annoyance. “Something funny?”
“Hilarious, actually,” he says, holding his stomach. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. All he finds at the end of his amusement is anger, bright red and hot. It’s not an emotion he feels often, its rarity only serving as an intensifier—he starts making his way out of the rink before it can explode and hit you in its wake. “Well, that’s convinced me to call it a day. So you got what you came for, I guess.”
His fingers tremble as he undoes the laces on his skates and puts his sneakers on again. You stand by the door of the rink, holding onto the frame as you look at him, that same sad look still on your face. “Hoon,” you say, voice weak. What would usually have him melting only has his anger flare harder.
“Don’t. For the first time ever, I actually really don’t want to talk to you right now.” He stands up, gives you one last harsh look, and turns away. He only halts right before exiting the bleacher area, and after a couple seconds of thinking, turns back around. “Oh, but don’t worry, I’ll let you know when I want to fuck again. Since that’s all this is, clearly.”
--
It seemed to you no one thought you were good enough for Sunghoon.
Only Yunjin and Chaewon seemed excited at the prospect of the two of you getting together, or at least getting to know each other, but they were also the type to coo at dogs in the street and tear up at the sight of old people holding hands; Minjeong was apprehensive from the start, and made it clear; Jay was indifferent; Jake was oblivious for a while. Sunghoon was…
What was Sunghoon?
Someone who had come out of nowhere, shaken up your routine and messed with your head. That’s what Sunghoon was. He didn’t seem apologetic in the slightest.
Maybe it was your fault for not opening up to the people closest to you and letting them think you were some kind of no-strings-attached one-night-stands-only emotionless maneater who had been single for as long as they had known her, who would be seen with someone new every few months, and never for long, who, as far as the eye could tell, only used men for sex. Maybe it was their fault for never trying to dig deeper.
No, okay, it was definitely your fault.
Based on your conversations with your friends, they thought Heeseung had broken your heart, and you had never bounced back properly. He’d hurt you so much, you couldn’t fathom a real relationship anymore—you could only be with someone casually. Which wasn’t so far from the truth, but what Heeseung had done was much worse than just breaking your heart. He’d confirmed what you already knew of yourself: you want too much. You want what you can’t have, what you don’t deserve.
From the moment you met Park Sunghoon, you knew you didn’t deserve someone like him. Minjeong seemed to agree, and when she saw you and him together at choir that Saturday in September, three months ago already, she made sure you knew her thoughts on the matter.
“This is so… unlike you,” was the first thing she’d said after she pulled you aside. 
“What is?”
“This,” she repeated, waving her arms around. “Being here. Coming with him.” She pointed at Sunghoon, whose hair was being ruffled by one grandma and his cheek pulled by another. He kept glancing back worriedly at you—you liked him so much already. “See? You’re smiling at him,” she said, making you realize a sappy smile had started growing on your lips at the sight of him. Your face dropped and you scoffed at the disgust in her voice.
“Yeah, some of us like to smile. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Y/N, you know what I’m trying to say.”
“I don’t think I do, actually.”
She sighed. “You don’t do this. You don’t meet a guy and show up to his choir practice the next morning. What’s happening?”
You crossed your arms over your chest. Had you known your presence would be questioned like that, you might’ve thought twice about coming. “Can’t a girl enjoy a choir without getting interrogated these days?”
“You’re avoiding my question! Listen, Y/N. Sunghoon is not the kind of guy you usually go for. He’s-Stop. Don’t smile at me like that.”
“If you like Sunghoon, you can just tell me. You know I wouldn’t stoop so low as to go after a guy my best friend likes.”
“So you are going after him?”
“So you do like him?”
Minjeong shook her head violently and put her hands on your shoulders, staring into your brain as if trying to make you see some sense. Calmly, she said, “No, I don’t. Sunghoon’s nice, but he is so far from my type. He’s too… nice.”
“You mean he doesn’t wear leather jackets or ride a motorcycle?”
“That was once. But no, he doesn’t do that. And what I’m trying to tell you is that he’s not your type either.”
“And how have you gathered that?”
“Because so far, you’ve only wisely chosen guys who are as detached and emotionally stunted as you.”
“I’m not-”
“But he’s not like that, Y/N. He’s the bring-home-to-your-parents-for-Christmas type. Not the hump-and-dump type.”
“I’m starting to get offended by this conversation.”
“All I’m saying is, don’t go breaking his heart. Or yours, for that matter. It pains me to say but I care about both of you very much and I don’t see this going anywhere good.”
You shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Was her opinion of your romantic tendencies — or lack thereof — that bad that she couldn’t even recommend you to her friend? You felt like a chastised child whose mom told you you couldn’t get the toy you wanted. Despite being well aware that you weren’t the most committed when it came to relationships, you still felt like she was going overboard. Just because nothing had stuck so far didn’t mean it wouldn’t now—she was acting like you went around playing with people’s feelings for fun.
“Jesus, this is my second time seeing him. I just wanna see what his deal is. I’m not breaking anyone’s heart, okay?” 
The choir conductor had called out for everyone to gather on stage then, and that was the end of that conversation. You still remember how funny of a thing it was, seeing Sunghoon in his nice shirt and trousers, his hair falling into his eyes, singing diligently with the choir, when just the night before he had been playing beer pong dressed as Cowboy Ken. In this new light, you understood why Minjeong was so adamant about him not being your usual type, and why the grandmas were fussing over him. You hadn’t known what had pushed you to invite yourself to this rehearsal, and even then as you sat there, you weren’t sure what you were doing or why you couldn’t stop smiling as you watched Sunghoon sing. 
Time made things clearer, starting with that afternoon at the beach. The salt in the air that day had clouded your thoughts, covered them with a thin layer so that your usual reluctance to share anything remotely personal had dimmed. Or maybe it had had nothing to do with the air and everything to do with the boy sitting next to you on the sand, the way words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could think about them and were only met with understanding and empathy on his part. For once, you didn’t feel the need to guard yourself, to adapt your words and actions to the person in front of you. It was something you didn’t know was possible with a near stranger—perhaps because Sunghoon felt nothing like one.
He made you feel things you hadn’t felt in a long time; things you had been craving to feel, needed almost as much as oxygen. Being with him felt like breathing again. But you had been underwater so long, being on land again felt foreign, scary, and you couldn’t help but dive back into safe waters, coming up for air once in a while.
Whether he had intended to or not, Sunghoon had started to scratch at your surface, until he’d burrowed a small hole—shallow, but enough for cracks to appear, cracks you were quick to put back together as best as you could.
So when his gaze was too tender, his touches too gentle, you bristled. You went away, because you were afraid of what might happen if you stayed. The more you wanted to give him, the less you gave him anything at all. Your own desire overwhelmed you. His letterman jacket was warm around your shoulders, you proudly walked around with the four letters of his last name on your back, but you couldn’t get out of your mind how cold it would be if it was one day ripped away from you. 
You thought of Heeseung, how disillusioned you had been when you thought you had finally met someone who would love you the way you had always yearned to be, only for him to toss you away when you started asking for too much. You thought of your friends in middle school, how it seemed that no friendship could be more wonderful until you overheard them talking about you at a sleepover, about how clingy you were. You thought of your parents, how they had only bestowed kind words upon you when you performed well in your role of perfect daughter, of academically gifted child. How they hadn’t even glanced at any of the drawings you’d done of the four of you, mother, father, son and daughter holding hands with a bright yellow sun in the corner of the sky. How they had pushed you away from their bed when you seeked some comfort after a terrible nightmare. How they had never bothered to hide their disappointment when you came home from school with anything less than an A. How they had shunned your brother for not going down the path they had envisioned for him, how hard you had to fight to make them accept yours was not a worthless one.
Even your best friend seemed to think you were unable to receive affection of the likes of Sunghoon’s—but what you were afraid of was that he wouldn’t handle the amount of affection you knew you were able to give. In a way, that was what had drawn you to Sunghoon in the first place—from the moment you’d met him, you had been able to tell there was something of you in him. It seemed to you he had a heart that was overflowing with love, love to give, love to spare on whoever would have it. In his words, you were him. Nevertheless, your fear of getting hurt overrode your desire to feel Sunghoon’s love, and you didn’t know whether you would be able to revert to your nature after having spent so much time perfecting your new facade.
You knew what it was like to be cold. And so you prematurely braced yourself for it by pushing away Sunghoon’s warmth. If it was going to happen at some point, like Minjeong had hinted it would, might as well get used to it, right?
Except the cold never came. Sunghoon kept on burning relentlessly, no matter how much wood you fed his fire with—you could cling to him for nights on end or ignore his texts for days, without fail, he’d welcome you with his usual, unwavering warmth. He allowed you to bask in it, to momentarily let down your defenses. But something always happened to make you raise them back up—Minjeong would eye the two of you suspiciously, Heeseung would post on Instagram (Is one of the girls on slide five his new fling? Are they serious and it wasn’t that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, it’s that he didn’t want one with me?), or your mom would text you to ask you whether everything was okay.
Yet increasingly, you suspected there was something behind Sunghoon’s warmth, something you had missed, something that was tricking you. He looked at you like you had hung the stars in the night sky, yes; in public, a knowing look from you was enough to have his face turn bright red, and in private, one simple touch had his chest heaving, yes; he expressed disappointment every time you turned him down for a hang-out. Your attachment to him grew, and it became harder to put what the two of you had into words.
It wasn’t just sex—it couldn’t be. It ran deeper than that. You knew what relationships that consisted of just sex were like, and this wasn’t that, it was too good, too intimate to be just that. But you weren’t a couple, that much was clear. Only four other people were aware something was even going on, your brother not included, and you acted as regular friends in front of everyone. Jake had insisted you didn’t fool around with another member of his hockey team because his relationship with Heeseung had already deteriorated enough, he didn’t need to be on weird terms with anyone else on your behalf, so you were not keen on letting him know about what you got up to with Sunghoon. Anyway, even if everyone on earth was in on your shenanigans, you and Sunghoon hadn’t convened on what it all meant. Who knew what was going on in his head? You were no stranger to how deceitful men could be when they were after certain bodily pleasures. Unless Sunghoon said it in so many words, multiple times, you would not be a hundred percent sure he wasn’t only looking to get laid, or wanted someone to act like his girlfriend without the label and the obligations that came with it.
Because you basically were acting like his girlfriend, and he like your boyfriend. You always went to each other. Always, only each other. Whether he needed a second opinion on an outfit, you needed a rant session about your dissertation, either of you a really good orgasm, it was each other you went to.
You waited for him to initiate a conversation about the status of your relationship like one waits for church bells to ring at the turn of the hour—you knew it was coming, but the sound might be too much to bear. And the longer you had to wait, the more you dreaded it. Because how would you react when the time came? You didn’t trust yourself not to run away; neither did Minjeong.
The cold hadn’t come yet. You couldn’t let yourself feel the warmth unreservedly. It was all unpleasantly lukewarm.
Then you went home for a weekend.
It was a good friend from school’s birthday, and despite having spent a lot of time with Sunghoon at the expense of studying, you had done well this semester and thought you deserved a break. After having been away for so long, you had started to underestimate the power of your need for your parents’ approval over you. One small instance that your brother and many other people would’ve brushed off easily was enough to set you off—that same cold look of disappointment when you decided to be honest and told them one of your courses was deadly boring all while being unnecessarily complicated and you had received a low B-grade in it. They barely spoke to you for the rest of the evening.
Exams were a mere few weeks away when you got back. You buried yourself in work, forgot everything and everyone else, even Sunghoon, even yourself.
The cold hadn’t come yet, so you sought it out for yourself.
At the same time, you hadn’t indulged in enough introspection to realize how frustrated you had been at Sunghoon for not trying to create defined boundaries around your relationship. You were unable to do it yourself, you unrealistically wanted him to do the work for the both of you, you got upset when he didn’t. What you were able to do was make up reasons why he wasn’t giving you the what are we talk—he doesn’t like you that much, he just wants sex, he’s settling for you until he finds the next best thing, the real thing. This wasn’t leading anywhere, so you cut it off before he could.
You set foot in the library at seven thirty a.m. on a Monday and every following day of that week, then the next, then the next. He managed to pull you out every now and then—you weren’t that strong against his big pleading eyes, his soft messy hair, his warm hands that entirely covered yours. 
Oftentimes, you were too tired at the end of a long library day to have sex. Sunghoon never held it against you—he seemed more than happy to cook you dinner, let you fall asleep halfway during a movie you had chosen, and cuddle all night long. But your body burned with resentment at his mere presence in your bed, in your home, in your text messages. Who was he to stop you from studying, from achieving your goals, to distract you from that top grade just so he could get off? Even your friends and brother weren’t trying so hard to make you take breaks. The worry that furrowed his eyebrows, which you used to want to see fade away with a caress of your thumb, now infuriated you to no end, it seemed — to you — put-on. He kissed your neck and you wanted to push him away instead of melt into him like you had before.
It was his turn to leave for a weekend for an out-of-town hockey game, and you convinced yourself his absence came as a relief. But on the Sunday evening they got back, as you came out of the library, you spotted your brother waiting right outside of the building.
“Why is it so hard to reach you?” he said when he saw you in lieu of a greeting. “What’s the point of having a phone if you don’t even use it? I called you, like, five times.” “It was on airplane mode.” He rolled his eyes so hard, you could almost hear them moving beneath their lids. “What have you done to Sunghoon?” You stopped dead in your tracks. “Sunghoon? What about him?” you asked, chest constricting at the mere thought of him and at the implication that something had happened to him, even if you were the cause. He hadn’t said it in so many words, but it was clear the truth had been revealed to Jake, and for some reason, it didn’t surprise you. You knew they roomed together and assumed Sunghoon must’ve told him. You tried your best to take it in stride. “I thought we said the hockey team was off-limits after Heeseung,” he said sternly. “Also, Sunghoon, of all people?” he adds before you can say anything. “That’s like, my bro. And he’s the nicest guy ever. Not the perfect pick for one of your victims, I must say-” “Oh, please, he’s not a victim. He’s a consenting adult.” “Then why is he so upset over you spending more time studying than with him?” “That’s the male ego for you, Jakey.” Your brother sighed deeply. “He’s really hurt, Y/N. If you were going to reject him, you could’ve done it nicely.”
You frowned. “Who said anything about rejecting him?”
“You’ve shut him out. You’ve shut all of us out.” Jake was staring at you, trying to get you to look at him, but you kept your gaze on the ground and kicked non-existent pebbles around, hands hiding in your coat pockets. “You might not have meant it as one, but he took it as a rejection.”
You scoff. “There was nothing to reject. It’s not like we’re actually together.”
“Yeah, thanks for telling me anything was going on, by the way.”
“It wasn’t any of your business.”
“It is, ‘cause it concerns my sister and my best friend.”
“He’s your best friend?” you echo, a teasing smile on your lips. He rolls his eyes again.
“God, maybe you guys aren’t so bad together after all. But Y/N—I’m serious. You need to do something.”
“Why can’t he?”
“Because you’re the one who’s been fucking around.”
Ouch. “You’ve known about this whole thing for what, two days, and you’re already blaming me for the fact that it’s not going perfectly? How little do you think of me?”
“I don’t think little of you, Y/N, I just know you have a track record of not being serious about relationships.”
Your body tensed up. Maybe it had been a particularly long day. Maybe it had been a long time coming. Tears well up in your eyes—a sight you’ve not let your brother see in many, many years.
“You know what, fuck this, Jake. I’m stressed enough as it is. I’ve done my best with what I have, and you don’t get to pin this on me. As if I was the only person in that relationship. If Sunghoon has a problem, he can take it up with me directly.”
You walked away. Jake called after you once, and when you didn’t come back, caught up with you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t wanna upset you. I just-I hate seeing him hurt, you know? And you too.”
“I’m glad my feelings are of some importance to you.”
“Of course they are,” Jake said, too concerned to detect the sarcasm in your words. “And you’re right, I’ve only heard Sunghoon’s side of the story. But it really sounded like-”
“Listen, Jakey, I really don’t wanna do this right now. Let’s talk about it when exams are over. I can’t have anything else taking up mental space. I mixed up my Greek third declension endings earlier.”
“God forbid.”
After some arguing, Jake let you off the hook—“Just for now,” he said. You’d get him to recount his and Sunghoon’s conversation in excruciating detail later.
You come out of an evening of contemplation resenting Sunghoon for bitching about you to your brother, of all people. As if he had been begging on his hands and knees for your devotion, as if you had been cool-headed and detached and not thinking he’ll ask me to be his girlfriend any second now every time you spent time together. You told yourself you were well and truly done with him for the time being. If there was anything to salvage, that was future you’s problem.
But late on Thursday evening, Jay sent you a voice message, something he only did when he was gravely drunk, shouting over loud chatter and rap music that Sunghoon hadn’t shown up to a party and was apparently still practicing. You’d caught wind of their loss at the game, and even though your heart had swollen with concern for Sunghoon, very well aware of how important winning was to him, you’d managed to squash it down. You had bigger fish to fry, namely, an Italian written exam that made up 75% of your overall grade for that course. But after ten minutes of re-reading the same three lines of an article from Republicca, you couldn’t get the image of Sunghoon skirting endlessly around the ice rink and potentially hurting himself out of your head. You told yourself you only had this one exam left and plenty of time to revise for it, packed up your things and headed for the rink.
It was past eleven p.m. when you got there. The rest is history. 
Your grievances came out in an ugly way, but Sunghoon’s refusal to listen to you got the best of your nerves, and although you really did feel that your worry was more genuine than his, you didn’t truly believe that all he wanted from you was sex—at least, you hoped it wasn’t. It was the first time you ever saw any sort of negative emotion on Sunghoon’s handsome features, be it anger, sadness or pain. It tugged at your heartstrings, made you want to wrap him in your arms and get him away from whatever it was that tugged his eyebrows into a frown—even if that was you.
Now, as if the water has inched up your ankles and frozen over, your feet stay planted on the ice for a while after he’s stormed off. You don’t even realize you’re crying until a hot, salty teardrop falls on your lips.
Your feet regain control of themselves, and they seem to move of their own accord as they guide you right in front of Sunghoon’s dorm room. You’re barely conscious as your knuckles rasp against the door, and the tears that had fallen back behind your eyes spill out once more as soon as your eyes meet his. He’s just come out of the shower, a white towel wrapped around his hips, another one that he uses to dry his hair. His movements stop when he realizes who’s standing at his door, mouth falling slightly agape, chest visibly rising and falling. He’s so beautiful, you feel your heart breaking all over again.
Sobs pour uncharacteristically out of you, so much so that you have to hide your face behind your eyes. He ushers you in, holds you tight as everything flows out, the stress, the resentment, the loneliness, the longing. How could he be so close yet so far away this whole time? Did he want those miles of distance between you, or had you forced them upon him?
Sunghoon smoothes your hair down and shushes you, telling you it’s okay and that he’s here, voice strangled as if he’s on the verge of crying, too. A part of you still feels angry towards him, but the bigger part of you knows only he can give you the comfort you need.
“I missed you,” you say when you’ve calmed down partly. You only realize how true those words are once you’ve spoken them. You’ve missed waking up next to him, watching trashy reality TV together, taking coffee breaks that lasted too long in-between study sessions. You’ve missed the scent of his hair, the scent of his skin, you’ve missed watching the way his back muscles shift at the slightest of movements, feeling the weight of his head as he lay on your chest. All for a bunch of As you would’ve gotten without exerting yourself so much anyway.
“I missed you too, baby. Where did you go?” Just like that, you break down again, and he dissolves into apologies. “You’re here now, it’s all that matters,” he whispers against your hair.
“You didn’t see them, Hoon. You didn’t see the way they looked at me,” you say, struggling to speak, unsure you’re even making any sense but unable to stop. “I got As in everything, I worked so hard. Just one B, one week where I had four things due at the same time. Their faces, Hoon, like they were thinking, what was the point of letting me do this degree if I wasn’t even going to excel in it?”
“But you do excel in it, Y/N. You’re amazing at what you do. And even if you weren’t, you love it, and that’s what matters the most.”
“Not to them, it doesn’t.”
“Then forget them.”
“I can’t, Hoon,” you say, voice trembling. “I just can’t. I need them to be proud of me.”
“Isn’t it enough to be proud of yourself?”
“I wish it was.”
“Does it help if I tell you how proud I am of you and of how hard you’ve worked?”
He doesn’t see it, your face is still hidden in the crook of his shoulder, but a small smile makes its way to your lips. “A bit.”
“Then I’ll tell you everyday until you don’t need their approval anymore. They don’t deserve you, Y/N. They don’t even see what an amazing, beautiful, smart daughter they have. Or her sort-of-okay brother.” You laugh, and so does he. Sunghoon’s words and soothing touch against your back already alleviate the weight on your heart. “But I see it.”
You lift your head to look at Sunghoon. His eyes are glassy. “You see how amazing, beautiful and smart Jake is?”
He laughs again as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, exactly.” The way he looks at you makes you wish you could go back to the day you met him and right all of your wrongs. No more hiding or running away. You only want to stay under that gaze of his. But sadness soon replaces the joy in his eyes. “You mean so much more to me than you give yourself credit for, Y/N. This has never been just about sex for me. Not even for a second.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Then what has it been about?” 
He frowns like a student in an advanced math class who’s just been asked what three plus three is—isn’t it obvious?
“I love you.”
Your eyes dart between his as if searching for any trace of deceit there. Of course, you don’t find any—because there hasn’t been any since the start. You’d let your own fears invent things that weren’t there. Your lips tremble and you find yourself bawling on his shoulder once more, your tears like a well that digs deeper and deeper so as to never run out of water.
“I hope these are good tears,” Sunghoon says light-heartedly, but you can detect the nervousness behind his words. You nod your head vigorously, willing yourself to say something back, but your tears overflow, make your breath hitch.
“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” you manage in between sobs.
“I didn’t think it was the kind of thing you wanted to hear,” he explains.
“I was waiting for you to say something.”
“I didn’t know. I thought I was being obvious enough.”
“You probably were. I was the one who couldn’t see it,” you admit.
“I thought you didn’t want me like that.”
“I thought you didn’t want me like that.”
Sunghoon chuckles, a sound of relief. “I’ve wanted you like that since the start.”
“I think I have too.”
“You think?”
You lift your head again and when your eyes meet Sunghoon’s, it feels like coming out of your hiding place hours after the round of hide-and-seek was over. He hadn’t forgotten to come and find you. He was waiting for you to reveal yourself.
Which goes against the rules of hide-and-seek, but you don’t blame him.
You smile; he smiles, deep dimples carving crescents into his cheeks. “I love you, too.”
You hadn’t realized how cold your hands were until Sunghoon found them.
--
Everything after that was a blurry mess of tangled limbs, warm kisses, happy tears and relieved laughter.
Your touch had always been intoxicating, but Sunghoon was particularly sensitive to it that night. The mix of not having felt you close in weeks and the heightened emotions driven by your confessions made his skin tingle everywhere it came in contact with yours. He’d never slept so little without regretting it in the morning.
It goes without saying that most of the night was not spent talking, but you still had things you needed to discuss. The two of you laid out all of your fears, and Sunghoon was immensely relieved to finally get a glimpse into that mind of yours. He made you promise to always tell him what was going on, and he promised you you’d never be too much for him. Always just right.
Now, he gets to wait outside of your exam hall with your favorite flowers in hand, to put his arm around your shoulders during movie nights instead of holding your hand beneath the blanket, to kiss you over the barrier at the end of a hockey game he won. Heeseung’s narrowed eyes at the sight of the two of you is an added bonus.
You text him that you’ll hang around the locker rooms after the game so that you can head to the party together. The end of December is nearing and you can’t wait for the new year, for twelve whole months of not hiding your feelings for Sunghoon from anyone, not even from yourself, least of all from him. At least, that’s what you told him in a sappy, drunken voice message at two a.m. the previous night when the girls made you drink a bottle of prosecco to yourself—their way of congratulating you for an arduous but successful exam period.
He steps out of the locker rooms with Jake and Jay. You’ve never looked quite as pretty, face lighting up as you spot the three of them, his jersey on your shoulders. You’d worn it during your last exam—“I thought it might bring me luck to wear a pretty boy’s name on my back,” you’d told him, to which he’d replied that it was good practice for when you actually took his last name. You’d looked away, fighting a smile.
Now your smile is full-blown as you look at him, but the downside of being an official couple is that Jake has now more material to tease the both of you with.
“Oh my God, you waited for me, what a sweet sister I have been blessed with!” he exclaims, arms outstretched as he barrels towards you.
“Fuck off, Sim,” you say but accept his hug nonetheless. “Nice game.”
“I know.” He pulls away and ruffles your hair. Jay nods at you like you’re someone he shared a class with back in second year and not his friend of almost three years.
As if on cue, just as Sunghoon reaches you and envelops you in a hug, Jake turns around and yells loud enough for all the players spilling out of the locker rooms, “And don’t forget to wear protection! I’m not ready to be an uncle yet.”
“That’s disgusting, Jakey,” you yell back, and he smiles proudly. Sunghoon had never thought the day would come where you’d initiate a kiss in a room full of people—he’s on cloud nine when you take his head in your hands and press your lips to his, murmuring praises about how well he played.
“It was all for you, baby,” he says, trying to appear cool even though a blush is creeping up his ears. 
“Not for the recruiter of the national team?” you asked with a smirk.
He smiles, shrugging. “Maybe a bit for him too. You’re the one I want to impress.”
“Consider me impressed.” You stand on your tiptoes to kiss him a second time.
You head towards your friends, hands warm against each other.
--
In classic mysterious Jay fashion, he organizes a New Year’s Eve party that he can’t attend himself.
He’s on holiday in some exotic country halfway across the world with his family, but he’s offered up their house for a celebration and tasked Jake with making sure no one trashes anything.
The party started three hours ago, and you’re sure it’s in full swing by now—you’re sure everyone is having a jolly old time, getting drunk enough to welcome the new year with a hangover, searching the crowds of people for the person they’ll want to kiss at midnight. You’re sure that people are having so much fun that whoever notices your and Sunghoon’s absence might think you’re missing out.
And maybe you are—but there’s nowhere you’d rather be than where you are now, straddling your boyfriend’s lap in the backseat of his car. He’s a little bit tipsy, you’re a little bit tipsy, it’s obvious in the way you kiss each other, messy, impatient, interspersed with giggles and with perhaps too much tongue. Your hands are not much more polite, harshly grabbing at his hair just the way you know he likes it, and neither are his, having snuck their way underneath your black satin dress long ago already.
When Sunghoon pulled you away from the party, you’d appropriately exclaimed, “But the party?”, to which he replied, “Fuck the party.” It wasn’t like him to curse, or to have anything but a bashful smile on his lips, like a guilty dog who’d been caught doing something it knew it shouldn’t, even though he was just standing there, so when you see his stoney expression, you think something serious must’ve happened.
The something serious turned out to be “that guy who was touching your shoulder.”
Clearly, it’d take Sunghoon a little bit more time to be entirely secure in your relationship. In the meantime, you didn’t mind letting him fuck his jealousy away.
Although he’d been the one to whisk you away, you’re the one who finds yourself begging for him to speed things up. Your flimsy thong does absolutely nothing, so you’re basically grinding yourself bare against his clothed erection—and it’s not like the fabric of his suit trousers is very thick, either. A girl can only put up with so much dry humping before having her boyfriend’s dick inside of her goes from being a want to a need.
“Need you, Hoon,” you coo against the shell of his ear. A few words usually do the trick, but Sunghoon has other plans tonight.
“What do you need, baby?”
“You.”
“I’m right here,” he says, punctuating his words with a squeeze of your ass.
“You know what I mean,” you say, practically whining.
“I’m not sure I do, actually.”
You pull away and, looking at him directly, say, “God, Sunghoon. I want you to fuck me.” His shit-eating grin simultaneously makes you roll your eyes and goes straight to your core.
“That I can do.”
He keeps one hand on your ass as he loosens his tie first, then undoes his belt and trouser buttons. His slacks and underwear pool around his ankles, and all he needs to do is hike your dress up around your hips and push your thong to the side. You wrap a hand around his dick, but your mind is too hazy to do much with it—he’s started rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb, the pressure and speed as perfect as it always is. You let your forehead fall against his shoulders and moan unabashedly, thankful he decided to park the car far enough away from the house.
“You like it when I touch you like this, baby?”
“I love it, Hoon.”
He hums his approval. “You’re so perfect. So perfect and so wet for me, isn’t that right?”
You start to say “yes,” but you interrupt yourself with a gasp. You hold onto Sunghoon’s arm, feel his muscles move under your palm as he slips two fingers inside of you without warning. “Please,” you choke out, a tight knot already forming in your stomach.
“Please what?”
“Need you. Need your dick, baby.”
He smiles as if endeared, but his words couldn’t be more different. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before going off with some random guy the one minute I was somewhere else.”
“He’s just-fuck, Hoon, he’s just a mutual friend of Jay and I. Fuck, right there, baby.” Forming coherent sentences when Sunghoon’s fingers flick against that perfect spot deep inside you again and again is no easy task, but you need to defend yourself.
“Right there?” he echoes, voice a whisper against your ear. When you nod, eyes shut tight, he slips his fingers out. You look at him, betrayed. “That’s too bad. Why don’t you ask him to touch you right there, hm?”
You don’t know how much of his jealousy is put-on to get you to beg and how much of it is real. You make a mental note to have a conversation with him about this later—right now, you don’t mind playing along if it means your boyfriend will deign to fuck you. You know he wants to, he’s just making you work harder.
You move your hand up and down along his dick, brush his reddening tip with your palm every now and then. “He couldn’t touch me like you, Hoon.” You lean in and trail kisses along his neck, his jawline, his ears. “Can’t fuck me like you, either.”
With exams, hockey matches and any other responsibilities out of the way for winter break, the two of you had had an obscene amount of sex in the past couple of weeks. You’d done other things, of course, namely having much-needed conversations with each other, your friends, your families. Sunghoon’s mother was overjoyed at the news, glad her “duckling had finally met someone” — her words — and his sister kept stealing his phone from him to talk to you when you were on FaceTime. You and Jake had gone home for two days for Christmas, and although Jake had needed to pep talk you into it for over an hour, you managed to tell them that you wouldn’t stand for being belittled for your life choices anymore.
But in-between these conversations, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. You’ve grown more comfortable with each passing day, both of you bolder in vocalizing what you want and how you feel. And so, you quickly found out that your Sunghoon, your shy, sweet Sunghoon, got off like nothing else on salacious words. In line with his possessiveness, he loved hearing about how he and only he could do these things to you; in line with your need for validation, you could practically come from hearing his praises alone.
“That’s right, baby.” Like the gentleman he is, he fishes out the condom wrapper he had gotten ready from his trouser pocket, tears it open with his mouth and rolls the condom on with one hand, his other one still preoccupied with you. “Come here, my love,” he whispers, his sweet tone worlds away from his previous teasing, almost cocky one. He grabs your hips, guides you closer to him and lines your entrance with the tip of his dick. He lets you go at your own pace, rubs your thighs soothingly as you sink down onto him slowly and adjust to his size. You throw your head back, mind hazy with pleasure as you move your hips back-and-forth against him.
“You feel so good, baby. You’re doing so well for me.” His words make you pick up your pace, and you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers grabbing at his hair and sides of your faces pressed against each other as you start lifting your hips and sinking back down. Sunghoon’s hands hold your ass tightly, guiding you up and down. It’s hot in the car; sweat runs down your hairline and your back, air is running low, the windows are fogging up, but it only adds to the dizzying bliss growing in you. Even the seatbelt receiver digging into your knee doesn’t bother you.
“Feels so good, Hoon,” you moan.
“I know, baby.”
Your hours of studying everyday means your thighs aren’t the strongest—good thing for you that your boyfriend has enough stamina and strength for the both of you. As soon as he feels you tiring, your rhythm becoming slower and more irregular, he picks up your slack. One hand on your back, one arm around your waist, he presses you close to him, his hold on you so tight you can barely move. He bucks his hips harshly into yours, faster and faster, making you cry out with every brush of his tip against that spot deep inside of you. Your whole body shakes with pleasure as your moans grow higher and louder, until the tension in your stomach hits its apex and unravels. A gasp leaves your throat as you come around him, but he’s unrelenting, the overstimulation quickly making tears form in your eyes. Strings of curses and praises of how perfect you are spill out of Sunghoon’s mouth disorderly as he reaches his own end.
Together, you take your time catching your breath, his fingers roaming your back while you trail soft kisses all over his face and neck. “My pretty baby,” he whispers, and it makes your heart swell with so much affection for him that you press your lips to his, shutting him up in case he says something that actually has you exploding.
You wish you could spend some more time just the two of you before returning to the party, but when you check your phone, it’s already five minutes to midnight—he puts his clothes back on as you fix your hair in a rush, Sunghoon helping you wipe away traces of mascara under your eyes, and together, run back to the living room where everyone has gathered. You find Minjeong, Yunjin, Chaewon and Jake, who has Jay on FaceTime. It’s only five p.m. where he is.
Everyone counts down from ten together. The first thing you do in the new year is kiss Park Sunghoon—and you’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do, too.
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dwohttv · 2 years ago
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prael · 2 months ago
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Phonecalls
Kinktember Day 24: Vicarphilia
IVE Gaeul x male or female reader smut
words: 3,757 Kinktember Masterlist
Happy Gaeul day!
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Gaeul is the personification of the phrase ‘Don't judge a book by its cover.’
A big personality inside a small stature, Gaeul's appearance belies her true self. She's enigmatic, she's witty, she's charismatic, she's funny, and most importantly, she's honest. Honest, almost, to a fault.
She's your best friend, and she has always had your back. When you were down, she would always pull you back up. When you were lost, she would always find you. Gaeul has always been there for you no matter what, and you always knew you could rely on her. You trust Gaeul implicitly, and she does you.
There's this other side to Gaeul too, see, she looks ever so innocent. The way her voice always carries with excitement, it's always so full of life and wonder. Innocence is always an assumption people have of Gaeul. It's completely, and utterly incorrect, but people tend to assume it nonetheless.
Gaeul called you up as she usually does, and yes, you were busy, but not even an hour later you found yourself at a cafe sitting across from her. It was important, or so she said.
"Look at this message. He definitely wants to bone me, right?" Just like that, you had your regular reminder that all those assumptions about Gaeul are wrong.
"I don't know, he just said he wants to get drinks," you answered, albeit in the least convincing tone in your arsenal. Of course, he wanted to bone her.
"Exactly, drinking leads to being drunk and being drunk leads to boning."
"I've gotten drunk around you loads of times and we never ended up in bed together."
Gaeul squinted at you disapprovingly. "Well, we almost—"
"We don't talk about that, remember. Anyway, what's the problem, isn't this basically your dream Friday night? Boy meets girl, boy and girl get drunk, boy takes girl home, boy and girl fuck until they fall asleep," you told her, tilting your iced coffee in her direction as a gesture of encouragement.
"So you do think he's gonna bone me?" Gaeul asked, leaning back on her seat as she chewed on her bottom lip, no longer sure what to think of this text.
"Okay, maybe, but what's the problem?"
"He seems a bit clingy. He's all 'It would be cool if we could get dinner before' or 'I'd love it if we could go watch that new film that's out'," she groaned. "What am I, his girlfriend?"
Some psychiatrists would probably diagnose this as something born out of attachment issues or maybe some insecurity. Whatever, why bother with the analysis? She just hates relationships. 
She's young and having fun—a lot of fun. Sex, and plenty of it. Men and women in equal supply. Either way, relationships aren't on her agenda.
That's not what this story is, anyway. This story is not about Gaeul, not really. Her raunchy nights with strangers are important, but for you, it's more about the morning after.
"So cut it off with him, then. Give him some fake excuse and ghost him before you have another person falling for you."
She slammed her head onto the wooden table of the cafe. "Easier said than done. I mean he's funny. And he's pretty cute." She peered at you, an evil grin now curling her lips, "And I still want to bang him."
"Gaeul, we both know how this ends, you're going to see him tonight and you're ending the night on your back."
"Counter argument: maybe I'm on top."
"Alright, sure, but why am I here? You're only going to call me right after anyway."
"Well..." Gaeul said, leaning closer. "He has this friend and—"
"No, I'm good," you told her and she reeled back from your instant rejection, her eyes wide as if you'd shot her dead.
"Ugh, you're no fun." She shrugged, unfazed, as her hands flew across her phone's screen.
"You know where I get my fun."
"I'll call you after, don't worry," Gaeul said with a slight curve in the corner of her mouth, and that was the promise you held her to.
The promise she was right now upholding. Your phone is ringing with a call from Gaeul and it's the perfect way to start your morning. You smile, content that your best friend has kept to her promise.
"So? How'd it go, was he as big as you hoped?" You ask as you roll over onto your side and prop yourself on one elbow, the smooth fabric of your silken sheets beneath you.
"Big enough," she says followed by a satisfied hum, and you can just imagine that Gaeul must have the kind of stupid, satisfied smile that reaches her ears right now, "The things I let people do to me."
You shake your head and roll your eyes at that last part. "Come on, Gaeul, are you going to keep talking vague? The suspense is killing me." Your lips spread into a teasing grin that you're pretty sure Gaeul can hear through the call. You do very much appreciate her elaborate storytelling.
"Alright fine," she sighs, and the satisfaction is still there, if the subtle laugh she gives is any indication. "The drinks were good and went down easy. There was the small talk and the questions. So, I told him, he could ask any question as long as I got to ask any question I wanted afterwards. We were curious enough about each other and eager enough. We agreed.
"He started with these boring ones, 'What made you dye your hair black', 'Do you prefer salty or sweet foods', and all that other shit. But then I asked him a question that made his eyes pop."
"What was it?" You ask. Gaeul pauses, but the anticipation is a welcome feeling. Her playful silence lets the anticipation rise in you.
"I asked him, 'My face or my ass'?" You both laugh. That was so typical of Gaeul. Typical, but ever so effective.
"And what did he pick?"
"My face, though I don't think he understood I was asking him where he would prefer to cum. His face was so innocent when he said it. I wanted to give him a pat on the head for such a good answer," she explains in an exaggerated cutesy voice.
"He was all the usual, 'Oh you're so pretty' and 'Oh you're so adorable'. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I'm not saying he wasn't right because I do look really pretty," Gaeul quipped, to which you smiled, and she continued, "It went on for a while, he started asking some... hotter things. About how and when I touch myself."
"Usual guy stuff, sure," you joke, and you take delight in how she snorts a little giggle.
"Sure, well, next came his inevitable, 'Want to head back to mine?' Of course, I said 'Yes'. Then he said he would call us a cab, which, thank god, because it's much harder to do hand stuff on a bus compared to a cab."
"But not impossible," you interjected, remembering how she once described being felt up by someone in a packed train car. The way she grinned as she recounted it made her quite the bad girl.
"Anyway, we get in the cab and he just can't keep his hands off me. All over my tits and shit," she lets out a dark chuckle before her voice falls deeper, lower, sensual, and with the emphasis of a dangerous edge, "Don't know if the driver appreciated it but I sure as fuck did."
"Tell me more," you say, putting Gaeul on loudspeaker and placing the phone on the pillow by your head. You lay flat on your back and stretch your muscles. The joints of your toes curl into the sheets and push them down into the mattress as you arc your spine, and the deep inhale you take through your open mouth is soon followed by a relaxed exhale.
"He just slipped his hand up my shirt while she kissed my neck," Gaeul continues, bringing the memory to life with her words. She recounts in precise and deliberate detail how her nipples went hard the instant she was touched, the electricity sparking inside of her as he pinched at them with thumb and forefinger.
There's a rustling from the other side of the call before she continues her story, "We get in his place, he gets the door locked behind him, and the first thing I feel is his hot breath against my ear. It was warm and it tickled just a little bit. Then he whispered in a low voice that I can tell he thought was seductive."
"What did he say?" You ask, eagerly.
"'Fuck, I've never been this horny with someone so quick before'," Gaeul says and pauses. You both share a small laugh before she goes on, "Honestly, I did think it was kinda sexy at the moment, you know? Then he pulls off my shirt. Doesn't even unbutton it, just over my head with all the buttons. Guess the horniness was getting to him."
"Can't blame him." you run your hand up your own torso, fingertips barely brushing over the smooth, warm skin.
"And fuck, I was horny too. I was hungry. I turned and pinned him to his door, you should have seen the shock on his face, and I planted a kiss right on his lips. He wasn't that great. Wasn't really my type of kisser, actually. Too stiff, his lips were too dry, but still a kiss. I guess," Gaeul gives every little detail about him; from how his height stood a whole head taller than her, to how his eyes shone in the dark with a hint of anticipation. "I wasn't there for the kissing, so it was fine, and that's when his hands grabbed my ass. He was so rough, you should have heard the smack his palm made as it landed."
You hum in approval and bring a hand between your legs. In your mind's eye, you see her ass being spanked and groped, and you feel yourself growing more aroused. "Go on."
"Rough hands," Gaeul breathes into the phone. "I fucking love it."
"Yeah..." You sigh grab hold of your thighs and stretch out the tension.
"I could feel it, how hard he was, poking through his trousers and into my stomach."
"You loved feeling how hard you got him, didn't you?"
"Fuck yeah," her voice, dripping in lust and sex, was deep and steady like it always was when she gets like this. "So I dropped to my knees, practically ripped open his belt buckle and pulled down his zipper. And those pants fell to his ankles just like that, and then came the thing I was actually there for."
"Let's hear it," you urged.
"Like I said, good size, that's for sure, I've seen way worse. No way near the biggest dick that I've taken though. Anyway, I start stroking him with one hand," Gaeul lets out a gasp. You're not quite sure if it's for the benefit of her storytelling, but her sounds have always driven you crazy. "And then with my other, I've got his balls cupped and he's fucking loving it.
"I could tell, his cock was getting so big and so hot. It throbbed so much in my hands, so much so I could feel the blood pumping through him. And my hands were moving faster, my lips, teasing his tip, kissing, nibbling, even licking. I loved every fucking second because his dick tasted so good. After all, I could feel how worked up he was. So, I took him whole, you should have heard him moan, it was the cutest groan,"
Gaeul then breathes out heavily into the microphone, and her breath hitches in her throat and comes out short and sharp. You close your eyes and try and imagine the scene, and Gaeul must be reliving it too as you listen to her soft, sharp, wet breathing over the line. You tease yourself and plead with her, "Don't stop."
"And I'm looking up at him, through my lashes, and his eyes are almost pleading like he was trying so hard to hold his cum. Like he's trying to impress me, prove to me how much stamina he has. He's letting little moans and grunts out from his cute little lips, he's gripping the door handle so tight his fingers were white, and his knees are trembling. He's about to cum in my mouth, and my pussy is aching for him," she continues and lets her sentence trail off into a whining moan as she imagines his dick twitching inside her mouth.
"So quickly?" You ask, pushing your underwear down to your knees.
"I'm just that good, babe. The second my mouth met the shaft of his cock he was practically ready to burst. My tongue was dancing over the head, and I could taste the precum," Gaeul recalls. Her voice sizzles in your ears, and it is more like a deep purr, and it sends thrills down your body. A soft exhale escapes your mouth, and you're imagining her tongue caressing a hard dick. "And I'm only sucking harder now, stroking him faster. My left hand gripping onto him tight and tugging away. My right cradling those balls of his."
"All to make him cum," you utter in an aroused voice that you tried to hide but couldn't.
"Shit babe, it worked. I didn't even have time to prepare for him," she recounts. "He bucks his hips into my mouth. Barely has a chance to grab my head, he just blows so soon. All his cum was hot, and he was flooding my mouth."
"Shit..." You moan softly as you visualise a young man bucking his hips and releasing into Gaeul's mouth.
"Did I just go over to his to swallow his cum?" She asks and gives a laugh.
"I hope not."
"You wanna know what's funny?"
"Tell me," you plead to her.
"He came so quick that he went bright red, embarrassed, stuttering like a schoolboy that got caught smoking by the principal. All the courage he built up earlier in the taxi ride was completely gone. I couldn't help but laugh, mouth full of his cum, laughing at him. But I'm not going to lie. As he deflated so fast after he blew, all that bravado disappeared."
You let out a soft, something, barely a laugh, hesitating to touch as Gaeul grinds the story to a halt.
"Not funny?" she asks.
"Just, wish you'd continue, kinda in the middle of something here."
"Sorry, okay, where was I," Gaeul trails her words. "So I swallowed every drop, wiped at my chin where I've spilt a little and the guy still looks like he's going to die. I wanted him to suffer in the embarrassment a little, I wasn't going to tell him 'It's okay', so I got up and pulled him across his apartment. The guy nearly fell over his trousers since they were still on his ankles until he kicked them off.
"So the guy is a bit of a clean freak, by the way, the apartment was spotless. Somehow, I'm leading him to his own bed, don't know where the fuck I'm going but I find it and push him onto it. At this point, the guy's half-naked, sprawled, with his hand over his dick."
"All shy after your pretty lips have gotten him off, huh?"
"Right." Gaeul laughs, "So I stand at the edge of his bed, kick off my sneakers then pull down my jeans and drop them beside him. Then, he's staring at me and I ask him, 'Like the view?'"
"Stupid question, you're smoking," you interject with a smirk on your lips.
"The guy says, and I quote, 'Holy cow.' Who the fuck says 'holy cow'? Holy cow, babe, just holy cow," Gaeul starts laughing something manic, a cackle which is matched with a soft sigh, "Then, I just kinda laughed, like really, really laughed. It's all absurd, you get what I mean?"
"Oh god no he didn't?" You asked though the amusement was already creeping through.
"Right? What an idiot. Well, he was turning redder and redder as I was dying of laughter. It's about this time I realised I was so horny I had seduced pretty much the biggest loser in the city. Anyway, I had to shut him up, so I climbed onto the bed, and then onto his face. Dropped myself onto his stupid mouth. And then..."
"Then?" you prod her on.
"His lips and his tongue..." She makes a small moan, pleased, deep and sexy, and the sound is so hot. "Hungry boy. He starts lapping at my pussy like he was starved. He's all groaning and humming, and the vibration. That feels fucking great."
"Oh fuck..." You let a tiny sigh, one that you meant to keep to yourself, escape your lips. Gaeul keeps talking and in your mind, you're there with her—her voice fills your mind and draws an image. She tells you how she fucks his mouth, your imagination takes over.
"His tongue dances on me, licking over my lips, my clit, his lips were smacking and sucking on my most sensitive parts. He was so... energetic," Gaeul tells you. Your eyes closed, you can only imagine, in full detail, every stroke and flicker of his tongue as she described it. "Worshiping my pussy like it's the best thing in the world. So when his hands are grabbing hold of my ass and bringing my cunt to him even harder... Shit," Gaeul breaks from the story and swears.
You can't hold back anymore, touching yourself to the thought.
"He wanted this so bad. His hands were clamping hard onto me. His mouth sucking on me like a fucking vacuum. His tongue was all over the place. Everywhere it touches is like a jolt of electricity going through me. It's sending such great signals up my spine, right to my brain." Gaeul lets out a full, deep moan. One that is as tantalising as her words. It's followed by the sound of rustling. "I start just grinding down into his stupid fucking face."
You'd love nothing else in the world right now than to have Gaeul ride your face. "I can't get over how fucking delicious you would look like," you tease, "With that dumb guy, pinned under you,"
"I was moaning like crazy. If the neighbours were asleep, well, not anymore," Gaeul describes.
"Fuck," you respond as you find rhythm. You lose track of everything else, picturing Gaeul riding his stupid face until she cums.
Gaeul moans again, louder now, and with a husky, raspiness to her tone that you have memorised.
"There is no shame left in me, my hips moving into him with a need, a need for release," Gaeul chokes, then resumes with a pace of her own, "I can feel his fingers digging deeper and deeper into my flesh, and he was rocking my cunt even harder into his hungry mouth. His tongue, working so good. So, good...
"Just remembering how it felt... I'm gonna..." Gaeul moans again, throaty and harsh, and you picture it all in your head. She is sitting up in bed, legs wide apart, and fingers buried deep inside of her pussy. Moaning into her phone, moaning to you.
It's an amazing fucking image.
"I can feel my entire body starting to go warm, my thighs clamping onto the poor guy's skull. Oh my fucking god, his tongue, I love it, his tongue," Gaeul makes a long, low and whimpering moan, like the air was squeezed out of her lungs. "It feels like I've lost myself in time, completely. I'm going faster, my hips rolling into him faster and faster, desperate for relief. Then all of a sudden, it's all hitting at once, the spark just lights and I am exploding like a supernova, my core just bursting, and my pussy flooding his fucking stupid mouth."
You're chasing her high. "Shit," you find yourself whispering, softly at first and getting louder as you feel yourself nearing that beautiful feeling of sweet relief.
"I'm cumming so hard, his tongue is still going, still drawing out every last bit of my climax as he keeps feeding on me. The sheer fucking madness of the sensation... fuck, imagine that."
"Yeah..." You groan. "I am."
"You're so filthy," her words drip of sultry sex and that tease in her voice sends a tremor down to the base of your spine, setting your insides ablaze as the blood in your veins rises, the throbbing inside you reaching an incomparable peak. "Are you getting off to my story? I fucking dare you."
You close your eyes and breathe in the thought of her. Every inch of her lustful body, "I am."
"Fucking perv," she growls, her breathing sharp and shaky, erratic. A sound that resonates within your bones, and shakes you to the core. "Bet you want your lips wrapped around my clit. Let you suck the sweet nectar from my tight, hot pussy," she breathes through her teeth in a hissing sound as she falls over that edge. You can feel her shiver and quake. You hear every little shuddering whimper, every moan that escapes her soft, pretty little lips, and they ignite every sense in your body as if you can feel the electricity coursing through every nerve in her body, just as it is inside you.
You cum for her. You always cum for her, just like this. Your toes curl and your back arches. You twist, writhing under the feeling, your skin blazing as sweat rolls over it, your whole world coming to a beautiful standstill. You can't help but cry out her name in your bed.
"Nothing else makes me cum like this," you mumble, breathless and ragged as you finish, then add "You slut."
"How does it make you feel, hearing my dirty sex stories first thing in the morning?" Gaeul purrs. There is a sinister satisfaction in her tone, and that coy smile curling the corner of her mouth is definitely there in her voice. You can imagine it clear as day because it has been etched into your brain, that stupid, irresistible grin of hers.
"More," you beg, the aftermath of your orgasm, leaving the inside of your body searing hot, a sensation that you want desperately more of.
"Not now. Later," she sneers, knowing how it kills you inside.
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miirohs · 25 days ago
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sugarcoated
pairing: Mob Boss!Baby Daddy!Lando Norris x Fem!Reader wc: 2.7k cw: violence (implied but not against the reader), emotional manipulation, reader is highkey tweaking, Norris is a touchy ass, slight yandere undertones, this aint healthy an: i keep forgetting my irls have my blog lowkey ive been scared of posting bc of my parents. also hey ladies whats up im back out of my flop era! miss me miss me now you gotta kiss me!
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He was always lingering somewhere, no matter where you went.
It was like no matter where you ran, he would always find you. Quite frankly, you were sure that was half the appeal to him, he was a powerful man and he spared no expense in letting you know. 
Sometimes, it was the little flowers he left on your doorstep in pristine condition, small notes in semi legible handwriting tied to the stems. Other times, it was the faint smell of his perfume that lingered as he’d find himself in front of your door at odd hours of night, begging you to let him in, as if he’d been dying at the steps of your door.
And like a fool, you finally cracked, you did let him in. You were charmed, though there was no doubt it made you uneasy, he’d pacified you with his dazzling promises to take care of you, so what could’ve been the harm?
You didn’t see him again after that night. In fact, you hadn’t seen him for weeks afterwards, then the games started as soon as you moved.
You’d run, he’d show up, you’d run again. 
It was a cycle. There was no leaving the city anymore either, his forces scattered across every crook and nanny of the city. You’d sealed your own fate with just one hospital visit, deliverance of the exact news you’d prayed to not get as you sat with a test in your hands, two pink lines string back at you. 
You had no idea how you even made it home that night.
It was in your best interest not to move anymore, but you weren’t even sure how to move forward. Your wallet wasn’t entirely drained, but you were. Any chance of moving away was immediately stomped out, leaving you with no choice but to firm up against him and his sugar coated words.
It wasn’t long before he found out, and when he did, he made sure you knew. You couldn’t tell for your life how he felt though.
At first, it was minor things, baby items you didn’t recall ordering appearing at your door. You chalked it up to clerical error, but something nagged at you as you inspected them. Then, more expensive items started to appear, everything a new mother could dream of, but it made you uneasy.
Sometimes he’d come along with one of these gifts, standing outside the door as you peered at him through the eyehole. You never answered, with the hope that he'd leave you alone, hoping to dissuade him from anything further.
Then the biggest shock came along, sitting across from you on the counter, as if it’d been there the whole time. You had no time to question, let alone think about it upon seeing the small note attached to the box. 
I hope you’ll love the gift exactly how I did when I saw it, xoxo.
You knew exactly what a diamond ring implied. Yet, you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around why he would’ve sent it. The last thing he would’ve done was tie himself to you after trying so long to avoid you.
It’d been four days since the ring had appeared there, and you were simply hoping it was a fluke, no sign of him to back the ever present thought of the intrusion. 
You sat at the dining table, poking around your half-assed salad as you stared at the box. You could’ve sold it off, but there was no doubt someone would’ve found out and reported it back to him, leaving you to bear the brunt of his anger at your outright refusal. He’d never hurt you, but you saw everything in his actions.
The thought was more than enough to throw you off your meal, pushing away the plate with a pained sigh. Eating wasn’t the only thing that’d become harder in recent months, as working had left you with barely any time for yourself.
You were almost ready to doze off right there and then, had it not been for the series of sharp raps on the door, earning a grumble from you as you dragged yourself to the door with a mind full of insults to hurl at the person.
It hadn’t occurred to you to check who it was as you sleepily fiddled knob, only saved by the grace of the chain lock you’d forgotten to unlock.
“Hey there.”
Your blood froze, hazel eyes staring down through the crack of the door. There he was again, the devil himself, at your doorsteps as if he’d been waiting for you for a long time.
“Lando?” it came out as more of a whisper than anything else, voice cracking from a lack of proper use.
“It’s nice to see you too sweetheart,” He laughed, tilting his head at you to meet your eyes through the wide crack. 
There was a look in his eyes, although you couldn’t entirely decide if it was predatory or not as you averted your eyes, looking down at the handle of the door.
“What’s going on in there? Are you working late again? Though the doctor said it wasn’t good for you to be up this late with the baby on the way.”
You didn’t respond, trying to shut the door as subtly as you good, hitting something between the doorframe. Jitters ran down your spine when the door wouldn’t move further, looking down to see what it was. 
He’d wedged his shoe in between, the bastard. You looked back up, swallowing as he narrowed his eyes, the smile slipping off his face for moments to reveal thinly masked displeasure before disappearing entirely.
He knew what you were trying to do. You didn’t know if the guilt building up in your chest, or the possibility of what he could’ve done, scared you more. He’d never explicitly laid a hand on you, but the amount of torture was already enough as he lingered in your space.
“Someone has to keep the lights on,” You muttered, letting him nudge the door open. You were already fighting a losing battle, there was no way to keep him away but to hold him at an arm's length. That was how he’d gotten in the first time. He couldn’t fool you twice though.
“That’s why I've been sending you stuff, have you not gotten it?” He frowned. For a moment, it almost felt as if he were trying to be genuinely involved. You knew better.
You hesitated, looking back and forth between the chain lock and his face, though not much contemplating would be able to change the choice that’d already been made for you.
“No. I… donated it to some of the others at work. Needed it more than I did.”
There it was again, the indignancy in his eyes. 
“I got it for you though, was it not to your liking then?” His voice was eerily calm, but you knew exactly what it meant. Your hand instantly went up to the chain, almost as if it was moving on its own. Fear gripped at you. You had no idea what he was going to do next.
“So, you’re determined to be a single mother then? Do you know the kind of trouble it would get you and the baby into…” He raised his voice, pausing to see if you’d reconsidered.
Clearly a slight tremble in your hand was enough to convince him you’d finally stood down, a smirk gracing his already vicious face as you opened the door. You had no plan to, but it was hopeless to try and stand up without attracting attention, the last thing you wanted was for everyone to know what a shameless bastard he was.
“Just come inside please. Don’t let anyone see you any more.” You whispered, letting him through the threshold before you shut the door behind you.
“You’ve been busy, haven’t you? Just look at the state of your... apartment.” He shook his head, pushing at stray articles laying all over the floor with his foot, as if they were positively filthy. There were still boxes from your last move sitting around the living room, the only real piece of furniture unpacked being your bed and the table you were sitting at. 
You couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed as you walked into the kitchen, you’d never been this untidy before. It wasn’t any easier as Lando tailed you, only pausing outside the door frame, as if something stopped him from coming through.
“You should move from here. I don’t like this apartment, it’s in a sketchy part of town.”
“Well, I don't recall asking for your opinion, did i?”
You didn’t pay any mind to his poking, filling a random mug up as you stood at the sink before you shot back, standing in the dark of the kitchen as he walked away, presumably to shuffle through your personals again. You were thankful for a moment of silence though, head pounding from all that had happened today.
You stood there lost in thought, and he’d returned sooner rather than later, tone disapproving as he spoke to you once again.
“I wonder how on earth I'm supposed to convince you if this can’t stop you from trying to make it on your own.”
Only, he wasn’t at the doorway anymore, standing a little further back, waving a stack of letters to your face. The color of the envelopes, you immediately knew what the contents were.
Heat seemed to bloom across your face, rushing over to grab the letters from him. It was of no use, he could easily keep them out of your reach, but it didn’t stop you.
“Sweetheart, what happened to you? Looks like you’ve managed to stir up more trouble than you can handle, am i right?” You could hear the mock empathy in his voice, distorted by the rush of blood to your ears.
“You. You happened to me.” You hissed back at him, finally grabbing the papers and slinking backwards. There wasn’t any time to leaf through them, but the big bright red stamps were more than enough to drive you to tears when you saw them. But you couldn’t cry here. Not in front of him.
He didn’t respond to your remark, simply giving you a look of pity, watching with careful eyes as you tossed the pages back onto the table, taking your seat back. The tension was getting higher, only breaking when you finally looked at him, opening your mouth.
“You can’t just come in here, into my life,” you managed, voice quivering despite the resolution you’d come to, “And act like you own the place. You have no idea what I’m dealing with.”
“Don’t I?” Lando pushed himself off the opposing wall, getting closer. “I’m the one who’s been watching you struggle, I'm the one who’s trying to help you love.”
“And is this what help is then?” The thought tasted bitter. “Sending gifts isn’t helping, it’s… wrong.” 
Then adding in a whisper, “You know i can’t afford this.”
He paused, the righteous look he had faltering for a second. “You’re reading it all wrong. I’m just trying to provide for you and the baby, but you want to be stubborn. You won’t take my help, nor will you take my money.”
“I don’t want your money, please.” You begged mercifully, looking at him eye to eye since the first time he’d stepped through the door.
“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile that sent chills through you. “You should be thanking me. Not many get the same kind of priority you’re getting right now. I’m only trying to make it easier.”
“I would never do it with your filthy money, how many have you run over just to make a paycheck?” You murmured, pausing at the look on his face.
“At least I can provide for myself. I won’t ever have to scrap the bottom of a tip jar only to fail to make rent.” He replied smoothly, eyes narrowing at your attempt to rebuke him.
The implication hung heavy in the air, and you clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm. “I… can’t.”
The silence seemed to stretch thinner, and you could feel the burn in your eyes as you looked down at your clasped hands. You couldn’t even really tell when the first tear slipped. It kept coming, and you couldn’t stop it. You knew he was right.
“Hey, hey, none of that.” He said slowly, getting down on one knee to meet your eyes, taking your hand in his. “I was out of line for that, wasn’t i?”
You shook your head, covering your mouth to stop the sobs from escaping. He seemed remorseful, running a thumb over your knuckles as he looked at you with a mix of pity and something foreign.  “I know I upset you, but I'm still offering you a chance here. I wanna set it right between us.”
You didn’t argue through the tears, and he seized the moment. “You can struggle all you want but I can provide everything you need. I can make the baby my heir, I can give you the life you deserve... all you have to do is say yes.”
“Say yes to what? Marrying you?” The words seem to slip out of your mouth mid sob, and a look of amusement crossed his face as you slapped a hand over your mouth.
“Exactly,” he replied, trademark grin spreading across his face. “Imagine it. A beautiful ceremony, a life together. You’d have someone by your side who can ensure nothing threatens you. You’d be safe and sound. The baby would be my successor, guaranteed.”
“I barely even know you. You don’t know me.” You whimpered as he played with your hand, too loving, too suffocating.
He moved closer to your lap this time, bringing his hand up to wipe the tears, soft and tender than you’d known him to be. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, and I know it feels like you don’t know me at all. This is a big decision.”
“It’s not just a decision, Lando. It’s my life.” You hiccuped, despairing clawing at your insides. “How do I know you won’t just leave when you’re bored of me?”
“Didn’t I promise to take care of you and the baby?” He gently cupped your face, tilting it up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. “Look at me. You’re not alone in this. I’m here now, and I want to help.”
There was a flicker of recognition at his words at the back of your brain, raising voices of caution as you looked at him through glassy eyes. “And what if I can’t love you back like you want me to?”
Lando’s eyes darkened slightly, and he took your hands, pulling you closer. “You don’t have to love me right now. Just trust me.” His grip tightened, slightly painful as he held onto you. “Just let me show you what it means to be cherished.”
He leaned in, his lips almost brushing your ear, the movement making your breath hitch. “Let me in, stop thinking so hard.”
You could’ve stopped breathing, time slowing as he pushed the ring box into your lap.
He was never going to give you a choice, but what he said was ultimately true.
“Just think,” Lando urged as you squeezed your eyes shut, allowing him to play with your ring finger. “Think about what you could have.”
You’d never really realized how much his scent stuck till you until now, wrapping around you and lingering softly. A part of you was tempted to lean into him, to let him guide you into this new reality.
Even if you hadn’t made up your mind, he likely already had.
“Fine.”
Wordlessly, the cold metal slipped on the finger he’d been tracing moments before, bringing up your hand to kiss it.
“See? You’re already one step closer.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
You could only look at him, dried tear tracks sticky against the sudden cold draft of the air.
“It’s a promise,” he said, his thumb brushing over the ring as if it had already tied you together. “I won’t let you go just like that.”
You shuddered. 
There was no escaping him now. You were tied to him.
A sugar coated nightmare, it seemed.
500 notes · View notes
sapphicmsmarvel · 3 months ago
Text
acotar: feeding my complex
If you know me irl 🎶no the fuck you dont 🎶
This is azriel x reader x feyre x rhys smut. Everything is under the cut. (i'm so nervous posting this omg) 
(3.7K YALL WTF POSSESSED ME)
title is from complex by xana pls listen xana is one of the best artists ive ever heard!
‼️Minors Do Not Interact‼️
(i already know minors are gonna ignore that bc i have common sense)
notes: probably ooc rhys and az. i do not see them as the type to share mates but like, it’s hot. you could see this as wlw fetishization but as a pan/bi/queer woman this is a goddamn wet dream so i approve it. (duh i wrote it) 
This is mainly porn with no plot, but i snuck some in. 
kinks: ass play, tongue sucking, female worship, voyeurism, switching from top to bottom real quick, dirty talk (i tried), praise, oral (fem receiving), mating press, pussy slapping, edging, mentioned past knife play. I think i got it all folks. 
It all started from a dinner with Feyre and Rhysand. Aka your childhood best friend and her husband. You and Feyre dreamed of double dates with your spouses as children and now you finally have it. 
You four occasionally had these dinners, typically once a month. 
After the meal, you four were in the living room area, Azriel was on his second glass of wine, Rhysand and you weren’t drinking. Feyre was on her first glass. The fire was crackling with life, causing the room to warm. 
Then you four began sharing silly secrets. It started with Feyre and Rhysand fucking in paint, which gave your husband ideas. Then you and Azriel admonishing them for fucking in the literal sky. But then they scolded you two for knife play. Especially when they found out Truthteller’s handle was used to fuck you. 
“How did you even grip that?” Feyre asked. 
Azriel smirked, “who said I was the one holding it?”
“Who the hell did you invite to your bed and why wasn’t it us?” Rhysand asked, jokingly but you warmed at the idea. 
“The shadows you fool.” You laughed, sipping your water. “Az pinned me down and sucked my tits while the shadows pinned my legs down and used Truthtellers handle to fuck me. 
They were silent and then, “I love how you have no filter, baby.” Az coughed. 
“So do I. Damn.” Feyre said. “That’s spank bank material.”
You snorted and Rhysand just tipped his glass to you. 
Which then the conversation turned into friends having sex, and then: 
“You mean to tell me, you and my High Lady would have sex?” Azriel asked, surprised clearly. He knew you were into women but it was different knowing the object of your past affections was his close friend and High Lady. 
“I mean, yeah.” You shrugged at your mate. “Two girls that the village wanted nothing to do with. Might as well do each other.”
“And by the way, it was a loving and very respectful relationship. Platonic sex!” Feyre declared from her spot on the couch. 
“Huh.” Rhysand said. “You know, I expected not to like that but…” he trailed off. “The thoughts are nice.”
You snorted and looked at Azriel, who was looking at you with an expression that could only be described as eye-fucking. 
“Are you serious?” You asked him grinning. He had the decency to blush. 
“What?” Feyre asked, looking towards you. 
“He’s into it too!” You laughed. 
Feyre laughed as well, “I mean I don’t blame them. We are quite hot together.” She scooted closer to you on the couch. 
“That we are.” You grinned and clinked your glasses together. 
You all quickly went onto other topics, but you both could tell that the boys just could not stop imagining you two together. 
“Okay, how do we bring you two back to the present?” Feyre asked. 
“What do you mean?” Azriel asked. 
“You two have been acting so weird since we said we used to hook up. So how do we stop that weirdness?” Feyre asked. 
“We just never imagined our wives with equally attractive women.” Rhysand shrugged. 
You gasped, “are you saying I’m as hot as Feyre? That's the best compliment.” 
He was silent. He actually looked sheepish, he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and everything. 
“What?” You asked. 
“He’s saying you’re as hot as him.” Azriel said. 
You gasped even louder. “Seriously?!” 
“I mean, you are,” Feyre shrugged. 
“And Feyre is….as attractive as you are, love.” Azriel said. 
“Awww Azzie..” Feyre cooed teasingly. “That's so cute.”
The tips of his ears became bright red. 
Rhysand stuttered out, “it’s just, hard to imagine so…” He trailed off 
You turned and looked at Feyre. “They wanna see us smooch.” You giggled. 
Feyre rolled her eyes. “Come here.” She grabbed your face and pecked you on the lips. 
When you turned towards the boys, they were wide eyed but not satisfied. “You’re blue-balling us.” Rhysand huffed. 
“Oh? You wanna see us do what?”
Rhysand was silent and looked at Azriel then you two. Feyre coaxed, “words baby.” 
“We want to see you two make out.” Azriel ended their misery. “And maybe…” He shrugged. 
“Maybe?” You prodded. You knew exactly what that voyeur wanted to see. But gods, this was fun enough for you. And it was turning you the fuck on. 
“Maybe if it’s hot, then we fuck you both together.” Azriel snapped, but it wasn’t malicious. Your mate snapped when he was flustered, which was rare. So you were eating this shit up. 
“If?” You chuckled. “Baby, it’s gonna be.” 
“Yeah yeah you know you two are hot.” Rhysand muttered. 
You giggled, “then we have to go to bed, don’t we?” You asked Feyre. 
“Duh.” She laughed, downed her drink then grabbed your hand. You both took off down the hallway, the men nearly tripping over themselves to follow you two. 
You two beat them to the bed. You both fell into a heap of giggles as they ran up the stairs. 
“Is it weird if I’ve missed kissing you?” Feyre asked. She threw off her baggy shirt, so her bra was on display. But left her shorts on. “As much as I love Rhys, kissing girls is just.” She kissed the air. 
“I feel the same.” You giggled into your shared air. You shucked your shorts off, revealing the granny panties you were wearing. If you knew this was coming, you would’ve worn a hot set. You left the big tee shirt on. 
“I’m not wearing panties, I wanna leave some mystery.” Feyre said. 
“I would’ve worn a hot set if i knew this was happening.” You laughed, you could hear the boys were close to the bedroom. 
“It’s not fair you look hot in granny panties.” Feyre groaned. 
You laughed as the boys arrived, now the fun could begin. 
“C’mere.” You grinned and Feyre did as well. 
The two of you sat on the bed, facing each other. Your knees touching. Very much aware of your husbands at the end of the bed waiting for you two to kiss. Their heated gazes stroked the inferno that was in your cunt. Throbbing. 
When you and Feyre’s lips met, the world went silent. Kissing Feyre was always like falling into a comfy bed. Soft, plush and safe. As much as you loved Azriel as he was your mate, and you obviously were sexually attracted to men. You also were sexually attracted to women. There was never a worry with Az. He never wanted to invite anyone to the bedroom because he didn’t trust anyone. 
But these, these were two of the people he trusted most. 
Nothing beats kissing a girl.
Your mouths opened for each other, your tongues caressing each other. Lewd sounds were the only sound in the bedroom aside from Azriel and Rhysands heavy breathing. Feyre pulled you against her, your tits rubbing against each other, you wore no bra underneath so the contact caused your nipples to pebble. She ran her hands underneath your shirt, scraping her nails against your back. Your hands wove into her hair and pulled her even closer. Her nails dug into your plush hips. 
She pulled away, “Gods, I missed these hips. Fucking perfection. So soft.” Between each sentence she pressed a kiss to your swollen lips. “Felt even better sitting on my face. Remember that?” 
“Gods how could I forget?” You whispered. You smelled the musky, manly scent of Azriel and Rhysands arousal, you felt your pussy throb at the aroma of them and the sweet smell of Feyre’s mixing.  
You captured Feyres lips between your own. Better than a drug. More addictive and exhilarating. 
You heard rustling and then the sound of clothes hitting the floor. 
You felt warm heat radiate at your back as large thighs cradled your butt and hips. Azriel’s warm hands went around your waist to hold you. He kissed your neck. You felt his cock in bump into your plush thighs. Rock hard. 
How far are we going with this? Rhysand created a link to all of your minds.
As far as you boys would like. This isn’t new for Y/N and I. Feyres throaty laugh echoed in your minds. Safe word? 
Peach. Like Y/N’s ass. Azriel said as he spanked you. 
No ones gonna get possessive and rip out someone’s throat? You asked as your tongue licked down the side of Feyres throat, your teeth scraped her skin. She let out a breathy moan. 
Nobody else I trust to fuck my wife than these two. Azriel responded 
Glad you have so much faith. Rhysand said. Can’t wait to make your wife see the galaxy. 
yeah watch me make your wife come. Was all you said before your fingers dipped into Feyre’s shorts. 
Azriel chose that moment to slip his hand into the back of your panties and spread your ass cheeks with his long thick fingers. Just rubbing outside the tight ring made you quiver. You weren’t a fan of penetration there, but a little bit of ass play never hurt. 
You snuck your hand into her shorts, her smooth, wet pussy was warm and inviting. You wanted to sink into it with your tongue and fuck her so hard she didn’t know her name. But, you’d do that another time, either with Rhys coming down her throat or just watching while Azriel pounded into you from behind, you weren't picky. 
You gathered her slick and brought it up to her clit and continuously rubbed circles on the bundle of nerves. 
Based on the way her thighs clenched around your hand, you knew something was going on in the back. Then you saw the lube in Rhysands hand get thrown onto the bed and knew that she was also getting some ass action.  
“Is he fucking your ass?” You asked her. She groaned. “You got my fingers on your clit, your husbands in your asshole and you’re giving my husband a filthy fucking show? You grabbed her face with your free hand, “open.” You ordered. 
She did so without complaint, her tongue sticking out as you took her tongue between your lips and sucked on it like it was your favorite candy. 
You pulled away long enough to say, “dirty fucking girl.” You saw her eyes roll back into her head as you took her tongue in your mouth again and sucked it. 
You moaned around her tongue as Azriel began pressing harder against your tight asshole. He began rubbing faster. You whimpered. You weren’t afraid to admit that it doesn’t take much to make you finish. But you also have a faster turnaround time than most. It helps that this sight, this situation was the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced. 
You let go of Feyre’s tongue. “Wanna sit on my face baby?” You asked Feyre as she pitched forward into your shoulder. “Huh? You can sit on my face while Az fucks me and you can suck Rhys’ cock. How does that sound?” You rubbed her even faster. 
She let out a louder moan as you felt her thighs quiver around your hand. 
“Or maybe you wanna see what the biggest wingspan feels like.” You grinned, you saw Rhys’ eyes flash a stormy violet. “His cock is so thick, baby.” You panted against Feyre’s temple. “You can feel every vein as you bounce. I bet it’d stretch you out so ni-“ 
You were cut off when someone threw you down on the bed. You looked up to see Rhys’ eyes pinning you down. One of his hands pinning both your wrists down. “Azriel.” Was all he said. 
“Yeah?” He asked, still discombobulated from the shift in position. 
“Pleasure my wife out while I eat yours out.” 
Your husband, your mate, let out a dark chuckle. “As you wish, My Lord.” Your mate sent a gentle caress down the bond. It was almost mocking. 
It was fucking hot. 
Rhys let out his beast form enough that his wings spread even wider, his right hand that wasn’t holding your wrist turned into his beast claws. And his cock was a hard rod against your inner thigh. 
“You know, it’s because of you my wife didn’t get to cum.” He said, one single talon cutting your shirt open. The cool air brushed against the swells of your tits. “If you just kept your fucking mouth shut, she would’ve finished.” He scolded as his wife's moans were in the background, you quickly glanced over Rhysand’s shoulder to see Azriel fingering his High Lady. 
“Am I supposed to be sorry?” You cocked an eyebrow. 
You had no idea what possessed you to say that to him. You’re only mouthy with Azriel, but not all the time. 
You were in a brat mood because the next thing you said was, “you mad that out of all of us I got to fuck her first?”
“Are you always this mouthy?” He asked. 
“You have no idea.” Azriel said, taking a break from sucking on Feyre’s tits and fingering her cunt. You were jealous of your husband. Feyre’s tits were spectacular. 
Rhysand pinned your waist down and began mouthing at one of your tits. His tongue circled a nipple and he grazed his canine against it which caused your back to shoot up off the bed. 
You felt Rhysands claws tap your mental shield, you let him in. 
“Praise or degradation?” He switched to the other breast. 
“Both. But, don’t overdo it with the name calling please.” You requested. You were bullied as a kid so name calling is a toughie to navigate. 
“What words are you against?” He then tore the rest of your shirt off completely. The cool air causing goosebumps on your exposed skin. 
“I don’t like being told I'm ‘just a cunt’. Degrade me by roughing me up. Praise my looks while you do it.”
His chuckle echoed in your mind, “oh I can certainly work with that.” 
“These beautiful thighs are meant to be parted.” He said as he trailed down your curvy body. “Curves of a goddess too.” He pulled your granny panties off and threw them somewhere. 
Azriel always told you how beautiful you were, but you weren’t gonna lie, hearing it from a guy like Rhysand was pretty nice too. 
“The prettiest woman I've seen.” Feyre said off in the distance. She was moaning as well. You didn’t know what your mate was doing. But you knew it was good. 
You hummed as he spread your legs, he blew on your clit and the air made your thighs twitch. 
“Your stretch marks are so beautiful.” He said into your mind. 
He licked a stripe between your folds and moaned. He started sloppily eating like a man starved. Your toes were curling, your heels pushing into his shoulder blades and pushing him further into you. Your hands curl into his hair. 
“You taste like fucking heaven. Our perfect, beautiful, otherworldly little slut.” 
“How does it feel knowing everyone in this room has tasted this perfect cunt?” The breath from him speaking felt like ecstasy as it went over your puffy red cunt.  
“Fuck.” Your eyes rolled back. 
He pulls away and you whine, then squeak when he slaps your pussy. “I asked a question.” He was just adding fuel to the flame. 
“It feels so fucking good. Like I'm a God.” You couldn’t help the truth bubbling out. Anything to get his tongue back inside you. Your pussy was throbbing so hard you were sure they could all hear it. You were a greedy little thing. 
“You are a God, you are our God that tastes so fucking good it’s addictive.” He whispered as if the sentence was a prayer. 
He then put his mouth to use. He rolled your bud around with his tongue. Having the raw, targeted motions made you more sensitive. Causing pleasurable shocks to go through your body. 
“Only we get to make you feel like this, only us. You are ours.” 
“Your curves, your plushness, Gods. Perfection.” 
Right as your thighs began to shake, right as your stomach began to clench and twist, he stopped. 
You could not help the whine. Feyre whined too. It seems the boys had planned something. 
The little bitches had edged you both. “She’s ready for you.” Rhysand smirked at your husband, his lips coated in your slick. 
Azriel grabbed your legs and pulled them onto his shoulders so quickly it caused you to yelp. The head of his cock slapping your pussy lips. 
Feyre was then laid right next to you, both men were now on the bed on their knees. 
Realization set in, these bastards were putting you two in mating presses. 
Rhysand bent down to kiss his mate, when he pulled away, she smirked. “You taste so good with Y/N’s pussy smeared all over your lips. My new favorite dessert.” 
Before you could see Rhysands reaction, Azriel pulled your attention towards him. “Look at you being the favorite slut of the group.” 
Your pussy clenched around nothing which caused you to pitifully whine. “You want me to fill that pussy, baby?” Azriel asked. “Show who has the biggest wingspan?” 
“Mhm.” You whined again. 
“Your wish is my command, baby.” 
And together, both him and Rhys, pushed into their wives pussies. 
You let out a guttural moan as the delicious stretch came. Then the feeling of being pleasantly full. Almost to the point of too much. You couldn’t help the tears that came out of your eyes. Since the beginning of the night you’ve been pent up and to finally feel the release and that all the build up was coming to an amazing moment. 
Your cunt greedily sucked him in, as if welcoming him home. “You’ve always been made for me.” You whispered. You two together were truly like a puzzle, the way your bodies reacted to each other was proof of that. 
The fat head of his cock hit your g-spot and the world went white. Your gummy walls felt like heaven to him. And this felt like heaven to you. 
“Fuck.” You moaned as he began pounding into you. He curled in on you, his arms came around to your back and up to your shoulders, holding you in place as his harsh thrusts dove into you. Azriel’s balls were slapping against your ass, a feeling that will never get old. His head going to your neck. 
Sounds surrounded you, Azriels panting against your skin. Azriel and Rhysands grunts. The sounds of skin slapping, gasps and moans that fell from Feyres lips like a prayer. You could feel the sweat from your back clinging to the bedding on top. Azriels breath against your neck, adding to the pleasure. Your nails clawing at Azriels back. 
The bed was moving with all four of you on it. You heard something in the frame snap but you didn’t care. You didn’t care if the bed fell through the floor. 
You turned your head to the side to see Feyre getting pounded into so hard her eyes were rolling back. Rhysand had pinned her hands to the bed with his own and practically flattened her against the bedding. 
It was so fucking hot. 
She turned her head, her mascara smeared and her lips puffy and red. Skin so beautifully flushed. You knew you looked the same to her. Beautiful. You two held eye contact as you were pounded within an inch of your lives, the act alone felt more intimate than kissing. 
All of it together made the rope finally snap. 
You clenched around your husband's cock hard. Hard enough that it caused him to gasp. 
“Fuck, you always clench around me so good, baby. I’m almost there, yeah?” He murmured. Making sure it was okay to continue pounding into your g-spot. 
“Use me, Azriel.” The overstimulation didn’t scare you. It thrilled you. You loved squirting and you were ready to do it. “Use me like a fucking toy.” 
You didn’t know he could thrust harder in the moment, but he did. You held his sweaty head against your neck. It felt like he was going even deeper, which you didn’t know was possible. He bit into the area between your shoulder and neck, causing you to throw your head back in pleasure. 
You heard Feyre’s tell-tale noise and then both her and Rhysand finished. You could tell based on their sounds and the smells. 
Then you felt the tingly feeling of when you’re about to squirt. “Az.” You whined and clenched him hard. 
His lips grazed your neck as he spoke. “I know, I’m there.” You felt his cock release and then let yourself go. 
Your pussy clamped down on him so hard he groaned and collapsed on top of you. The release with Az always felt like you were reborn. Free. Cherished. You knew you had absolutely soaked Feyre and Rhysand’s bed, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. 
“Did so fucking good baby.” You said and kissed his temple. 
Rhysand rolled over onto the other side of Feyre, Azriel eventually pulled out of you and just flopped on the other side of you. Rhysand snapped his fingers and all of you were in clean sheets and were clean. Still felt grimy but you could live with it until you could bathe. He had the courtesy to magic a blanket over the four of you. 
The room was silent except for your panting. 
“So.” Rhys began. 
“We’re doing that again right?” Feyre finished. 
“Yeah.” Azriel panted. 
“Fuck yeah.” You agreed. “I already have ideas.” 
Feyre snorted, “of course you do. Can’t wait for you to experience the wonders of Y/N’s perverted mind, babe.” She said and you heard her punch her husband's shoulder. 
Azriel chuckled, “The shadows fucking her with Truthteller was her idea.” 
“Fuck.” 
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pascals-doll · 3 months ago
Text
B.A.S
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⋆ ˚ . * ·analysis— In which you were bound to a man you don’t desire or love by your parents. An entire relationship built on resentment and treaty-like. Abby Anderson, you’re neighbor whom lived happily with her girlfriend next door. Unruly cravings and wreckful thoughts take over between the both of you, assuring a succulent dalliance. Guess you Both Aint Shit.
abby anderson x reader
₊˚ପ MEGANS NEW ALBUM GOT ME ON MY TOESS 💋
˚ପ i cant believe ive had this lil plot thought out written somewhat since march and i never had time to finish it and im happy i finally did!
₊˚ପ description: MODERN AU! READER IS FEMININE PRESENTING (only desc of reader), MUTUAL CHEATING!, reader is kinda in the closet because of prejudice parents, mentions of heavy religious parents, reader is in arranged marriage with a man!, mutal jealousy, homewrecking, SMUT NAAASTYSMUT, dom!abby, sub!reader, oral sex (r receiving), reader is unexpirenced!, brief size kink, praise kink, heavy making out, fingering (r receiving), lots of pussyeating, no use of y/n,( ___) is blank for partners names, use of pet names (doll, beautiful, baby)
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A lavish life was the experience of finding love on your own, letting it grow on you, and completing whelm your entire being. It was the process of getting to know each other to first kiss, to the ask out, to the relationship, and if your lucky; you build life together.
The stage of growth and love; where you plan as you’re just overfilled with emotion. That trigger to jump with joy at the fact that you’re building a whole life path with your special someone.
Years spent learning about each other, sharing parts of yourselves, and taking that time to progress hand in hand; harmoniously. Something, everyone should have the unlawful pleasure of doing.
It something you’ve always dreamed off, feeling it so close as you watch through your curtains. A secret craven in peeking into the silhouettes of the house next door.
You had seen them together for the past year since they moved in. Their happiness almost tangible as they enjoyed each other's company in the pool or on the patio, sipping cocktails and laughing.
You were hardly ever envious in the years you’ve been on earth—but it’s almost taunting like, the way they have so much to give. Truly in paradise with their passion for each other. Although, something didn’t always seem quite right.
Your life never stopped being stifling. You were bound to a man you could never love. An unfair business arrangement orchestrated by your parents alongside constant trips-pointless trips; taken by your close to nonexistent husband.
Abby's girlfriend was also often away on business, and you suspected that she was lonely. Going throughout your day and then coming home to see her in all alone, all day, in that big house.
The entire marriage was a sham, a rule-set of convenience. You couldn’t help yourself any longer once Abby moved in.
Often finding your eyes drifting to her, imagining what it would be like to kiss her peached lips, engulfed within those muscular arms. Such thoughts made you blush, and ignite a feeling in your stomach.
You couldn’t do anything except push your own crawling agenda away, only to have them return with greater intensity.
Abby Anderson was a phenomenal women. She was lead cordinator at a business with the pleasure to provide and work from home. She deserves someone who can take care of all that hard work.
Her girlfriend clearly couldn’t.
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‘If you live a life you don’t love, make best of what you want.’
You had never been with a women before. Only close you’ve ever gotten to exploring was dabbling in lesbian porn when your husband wasn’t around. It didn’t take long to dawn on you—that you had never orgasmed, especially not in the way these women in adult videos do and definitely not with your husband.
It was pitiful, really. The fact you couldn’t enjoy such a liberty. Your own sexuality.
A faraway dream of self-discovery and not the norms fed to you by religious beliefs that you couldn’t claim as yours. Dragged on by your parents whom taught you, it was ‘all in good faith’ and ‘Lord knows whats best’.
The only explaination for your abomination of life. Merely neglectful to your candied desires. Wrong, yet right in every way. You were loosing sleep as nights pass, tossing, and turning restless.
Rolling out of your silk sheets groggily. You stepped into your house slippers before walking down your stairs to your living room where your pack of cigarettes are. You grabbed the pack of your dining table, heading out to your front porch.
It was midnight, blurred gray clouds into the black-violet sky as you lit your cigarette and dazing away. You could feel the stagnant air surround your exposed skin, your lacy satin nightgown—a slip of fabric only covering you.
Unbothered and insomatic, taking drags from your malboro as you sat next to your ashtray that displayed on your side table. If you were to turn your head; facing towards and into all your temptations.
From just the corner of your eye, you could see the lights were still on at such an hour. Impulsively giving into your curiosity, turning your chair; peering into her window across the street.
Puffing till your ash thins into the orange-tip. Your attention drowned out until you heard rustling coming from the bushes at the corner of the street and your home. You whip your head around, blunting your cigarette out onto your ashtray and walking towards the barricade of your porch.
Abby was taking out the trash. She dressed in a loose tank top and shorts. She looked relaxed, her long golden hair falling casually around her face. Eventually catching you, offering a friendly wave and came closer to the fence of your porch.
"Hey there!" Abby greets, cool-toned and intrigued. "Can't sleep either, huh?"
Your heart hammered in your chest. "Sure is, just came out for a smoke…uh-hm! How have you been?" You stammered your question, unsure of what to say.
Abby couldn’t help her gaze drop to your nightgown, her eyes glinting under the streetlights. "Just been cooped up alone, taking care of Bear and ____ is away on another business trip.” She exudes, smiling at the mention of her precious furry friend.
You listened intently, a small smile tugged on your lips “____ been gone since the week before. Preoccupying myself by enjoying my magazines alongside my tea,” You let out a small giggle which was returned.
Abby’s presence tensed you, goosebumping your skin as if you were cold all of a sudden.
A small moment of silence was a momentum of chance.
“Would you like to come in for a glass of wine or water? I’d be a horrible neighbor if i left you hangin’” You offer, stepping aside with a soft smile.
She took you in once more, head to toe and an adrenaline pumped throughout her body before spreaking, “It’d be my pleasure”.
4 words 1 sentence. A saying so simple is all it took, to have you clawing at your sanity.
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Two cups of Wine turned into more and lighthearted conversations transformed sentimentally with each cup.
You bonded over the fact your partners often left for work, leaving you both lonely in such a big house. Eventually divulging your marital fraud, your desolation worn on your sleeve like an accessory.
“That’s truly not necessary—” you were cut off.
“Accept nothing but the truth, he doesn’t recognize how lucky he’s got it.” You picked up on how her voice turned stern, straightening up as she reassured you. You just stood there frozen.
You gulped, wrapping your arms around yourself as you suddenly felt exposed. You scrambled to think of something to say, your delusions wanting to take this in every way it wasn’t.
Abby suddenly closes the gap between the both of you, leaning onto your counter and into you. You could smell her perfume, the scent of fresh orcid and essential oils tickling your nostrils.
Maybe It was.
“Do you love him?” A very solidifying question.
“I dont know what love is and I definitely don’t love him, more like my parents did.” You grimaced, sarcastic and plainly disinterested in such a discussion. You truly have nothing to compare your marriage too.
“I hate fucking him too. Don’t feel a thing.”
Abby’s eyes widened, her hand reaching over to grasp yours. “Have you—do you like women?” She quirked, a soft giggle falling from her lips.
“Again. Wouldn’t know, sweetheart.” The nickname seemed so naturally. Like, you had been calling her that forever. Your eyes met with Abby’s; face to face with only so much space.
Then suddenly, she settles her strong hands upon both of your arms “And If i showed you?” She was so gentle with your demeanor, treading lightly.
She wanted it just as bad, just like you.
Her breath fanning your lips causing you to hitch. A trembling hand reached out, your hand brushing Abby's cheek, her hands pulling you from your waist. A passionate kiss spun.
It was electric, your lips molding together, tongues dancing in a frantic exploration. Abby moaned into your mouth, your hands roaming loosely down to grip your neighbor's slender hips. You responded by pressing yourself against Abby, feeling the firmness of her breasts through both your clothes.
Kissing desperately, hungrily, as if starved for each other's touch. Breaking the kiss, Abby nibbled on your ear, a weak whisper falls from your lips, “I need you….” Muttering in between kisses.
“Bedroom’s upstairs.” You finish. Abby taps on the cheek of your ass, signaling you to jump into her embrace.
Stumbles and giggles to make your way upstairs and down the hall to your master bedroom. Abby pulled away from you, looking around the room, seeing the mixture of objects from your husband and your own.
In some way, the infidelity. It made it rapturous.
"Lie down," she ordered you, her voice suddenly husky and full of authority.
you obliged to her command happily, body thrumming with excitement. You watch her climb onto the bed, hovering above you and eyes pouring into your own; a mixture of lust and tenderness.
"You're so beautiful," Abby’s voice was low as her eyes ran up and down, running her hands down your body. Each streak feathered on from her fingers tickled your skin, squirming as you legs lock together.
You felt a fluttering in you stomach at the compliment. "So are you," You meeked shyly, a pink hue on your flustered in face. You were breathless as Abby began to kiss at your neck, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin.
Abby continued her slow exploration, trailing kisses down your body, pausing to nuzzle your breasts through your top. "I want to see all of you," she whispered, her hot breath fanning over your tempered skin.
Heart was pounding in your chest as you nodded. The feeling of her gentle but eager hands as she threw off your clothes, baring you inch by delicious inch.
She paused to appreciate each reveal. The swell of your perked breasts, the curves that dipped your body, and to the drag of your soaked panty down your legs.
Completely naked and to her taking, Abby took a moment to admire you. Her eyes ran down over every inch of your exposed-self, salivating at your glistening arousal. "Better than my dreams," she murmured, voice full of wonder.
Insatiably on the same side of a coin. You reached for Abby's top, eager to return the favor. You peeled the fabric away, revealing her lush breasts, nipples eager with the cool breeze with excitement. She metled into your touch as she kicked off her shorts.
It was your turn to admire everything you’ve awaited. Her body glistened under the dim lighting of your room. The way eyes smoldered with desire tranced you as she positioned herself between your thighs. Your needy slick center coarsed Abby’s head; hovering above and planting pecks on your thighs.
Abby leaned into you. The feeling of her mouth searing kisses on your delicate pussy and her thumb teasing the taut peak of your tits. Your back arched arched into her touch, moaning softly as you reveled in the sensation of finally being touched by another woman. By her.
You notice the way she took her time with you. She was observant with each twig and jolt that came from your body, savoring you. She sweetly elicited a series of delighted gasps and whimpers from you as she continued her descent, twirling her tongue around your clit and teasing you down to your folds.
You choked out a cry of shock, “Fuck-ah!" you seethed, your hands gripping your bed sheets. You could feel Abby chuckle softly as she relishing sucked on your puffy clit. You felt like you were on a cloud, feeling completely elevated.
“Gaah! Ab—Abby!” Your thighs tremble in her grasp, feet kicking into her back slightly at the new found pleasure. The jolt that coursed through you felt ferious with the feeling of her moist tongue. She made her way inside your folds, teasing your whet entrance.
Suddenly, you feel the tip of her tongue plunge inside you, “Abby! fuckk Abby!” You let out a throat-curling shriek. Each lick inside you was a push of boundaries.
Legs trembling, mouth fully-agape, back arched, tits begging to be touched, nails clawing into your sheets, and grinding into her face completely high off ecstasy. Everything was new to you. The sex, passion, and connection. A seventh heaven.
Just as quick as the erotic came; it left. She pulled away from your eager pussy and anticipated body causing your back to drop and pant breathlessly.
"Patience," she murmured, her breath tickling your sensitive folds.
She continued her slow exploration, indulging her tongue as her fingers dance along the skin of your blimped thighs. Your breath hitched as you were dying of anticipation for her touch, her tongue.
Finally, fucking two fingers into you as she paid attention to your clit. Your deplore was sensuous, another train of cries and whines falling from your drooled lips.
Everything Abby did made you feel absolutely desired. Another thing, your husband could never do.
"You're so wet," Abby praises through her slurps and swallows of your leaking lithe. Abby’s fingers thrust forward, pushing in every inch of herself.
Her eyes darken as they watch themselves get squeezed in by your soppy fuzzed beneath. "So beautiful," she marvels, not getting enough of you.
"Don’t stop! please!”
Her thick fingers curl upward, she stroked your walls with her tips. She enjoys every moment of your writhing. Abby could live in this moment forever.
She smiled as your hips bucked up, chasing after every sensation. "So responsive," she purred, before adding a third thick finger inside you. she stretched you out completely, feeling every bit as your hands tugged onto her blonde hair.
She pulled her fingers out alight from so deep, dragging her tongue down once more your slick folds and lapping up your essence.
"Oh god!" Your moan gutteral and body thrashing against her and your bed. The tip of her fingers swirled inside softly, pressing onto your soft sex-gush.
An electrifying chilled jostled down to cramped hips as your stomach twisted blissfully. "Cum for me," she praises, working through your overwhelming orgasm.
Lewd spewls and ravenous chill flowed out and through you. Completely mind-fucked as you cream all over the tip of her fingers and tongue. Your body tightened like a coil, coating her with your sticky release with a final cry, "Oh, Abby!" As she cupped your leaking cum around her three fingers.
She brought them up to her lips, sucking them clean, releasing with a pop, and groan in delight. “You’re so fucking heavenly, taste it too.” She coos, crawling her way to meet your glowed and fucked out-self.
“Don’t tap out now, doll, I’m only getting started.”
Both of your integrity’s thrown out the door.
“This isn’t….” A pointless mumble left your lips, somewhat dawning the fact; You just cheated on your husband.
“They aren’t even here, right baby?”
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a/n: ugh my slut ass probably gonna make another part 🤞🏼🐇
dolls-taglist̗̀:➛ @marsworlddd @cosmopolitanaut @elliewilliamsgirl3 @elliewilliamgfooc @graviewaviee @yourelliewillms @elliesgf1244 @deliriousrn @yondaimekazzy @moonyvs4 @tearouthearts @ride4els @colecassidysfav @theoraekenslover @localorphanage @starmoon333 @bready101
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embersofhope-if · 8 months ago
Note
What interactive fiction would you recommend (besides this one)?
oh anon i follow over 150 if blogs let me get you some of my favorites😊 This is very long so all of them are under the cut🫶
some of these you'll probably already have heard of bc of how popular they are, but trust me, they're popular for a reason, lmao
these ones all have demos (if i messed up and some dont uh ignore that)
@infamous-if - "You're going to be a superstar, no matter what it takes." genuinely one of my favorites ifs (seven lawless my beloved please come back home the kids are asking whats taking so long)
@coeluvr - "You play as the only remaining member of the royal family of Vesphire; living in the home of the man who took away everything from you." another ive been obsessed with recently. i will forever love revenge stories (and my pookie helios)
@merrycrisis-if - "As a late 20-something year-old fresh from a recent break-up and struggling to pay rent in New York, life throws up more questions than answers."
@ramonag-if - "When your village is razed to the ground, you're left fleeing with an exiled prince. You can trust no one but each other. Your father's dying wish was to protect the prince, but can you really trust a man who was exiled from his kingdom?"
@nyehilismwriting / Project Hadea - "Set in a distant future, you play the role of an elite operative of Scytha Industries, a private contracting firm. ‘Contracting’, in this case, refers to anything from political assassinations, to private security, to bodyguard services."
@vapolis - "You’re a mercenary, gun for hire, assassin, information extractor, delivery person – call it what you want, because the people that hire you for your services don’t give much of a shit what you call yourself as long as you actually get them what they want."
@godsandvillains-if - "As the only metahuman with the ability to wield the powerful Chaos Magic, your very blood holds the answers to unlocking the secrets behind the control of time and space, but it has the drawback of being almost completely volatile."
@hvllowheart - "LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER is a spy game where you take on the role of an agent under the codename Wraith, who up until two years ago was one of the best agents TERRA has ever made. now the agency returns into your life and pulls you back into the field as agents go missing by the dozens."
@eyesofshan-if - "Years ago, you were uprooted from the only home you had ever known and captured to be sold as a slave. Now, war is at your doorstep once more while you are left in a delicate position — as a commander of the country that invaded your homeland. While investigating a case of illegal human trafficking, you come across a plot that threatens to rip this tentative peace apart."
@apt502-if - "Moving from your small home to New York City was supposed to be a dream. You were supposed to start your new life with your long-distance partner and dive headfirst into full-on adulthood. Everything was supposed to be perfect. How can you not love being in your mid-twenties in the Big Apple?That is until your put-together, white collar partner dumps you the same day you arrive. Fun."
@acourtofserpents - "As the only human in the Kingdom of Faerie, you're no stranger to shining eyes that hold looks filled with hatred, lips painted in the color of forest fruits whispering your name, heads with pointed ears turning at your every step. Though you long for their approval, for a place amongst the wicked immortals, they remind you with every breath you take that as you came from dirt, to dirt you will return."
@softlyopulent-if - "All of King Adder’s children are a mystery to the common folk, but you—you are nothing but a ghost. A ghost, that spends eighteen years locked away in the deepest part of the palace, so that no eyes may lay upon you.And those that do—they do not treat you kindly.And when you are finally of age, at last, you are betrothed to the child of the King of a far away kingdom, to secure an alliance that your father has been seeking for years.And you are swept away to a place even more foreign than your own land, to be wed to a stranger that looks at you with contempt. To live in a kingdom of citizens that despise you. And perhaps, just perhaps, fight a war."
@heromaker-if - "Stories of heroes, legends and chosen ones are commonplace. But you'd never thought it was your child who would have to save the world from the Demon Lord's clutches."
@theabyssal - "In The Abyssal, you assume the control of a powerful deity that was betrayed by their fellow gods. Imprisoned against your will for all eternity, you had a long time to plan your revenge."
@milaswriting - "By birth, and association, you are one of the most famous people in the big city of Lehsa. Your father's the mayor, and you're from a bright, vibrant, bustling city... and yet, until recently, you didn't realise all the secrets yourself and the city held."
@zico-if - "You were supposed to be a sacrifice in order to bring an eldritch god to your realm, a sacrifice that was never supposed to live. Instead of dying and summoning the god intended, you find yourself face to face with an ancient being that was chained and locked away for the horrors they once committed."
@collegetennisoriginstory - "Experience the ups-and-downs of life as a freshman on the Cargill University varsity tennis team amongst a colorful cast of characters."
@disenchantedif - "You used to be a beacon of hope. Now they only know you as the failure, the Unchosen. Will you rise above them? Will you become better or far worse than they could ever imagine?"
@bouncyballcitadel - "Play as a first-year surgery intern at Citadel Health. Will you become the star intern and curry the favor of the chief? Or will you uncover Citadel Health’s secrets and break a story or two? This will be the best and worst year of your life. Don’t forget to save lives and break some hearts along the way."
@leoneliterary - "You play as a thief pressed into the employ of a mysterious nobleman. With the your life, the fate of your guild, and your honor on the line, you'll have to navigate the perils of the royal court and combat a more mystical threat. The story is set in Cusmo, the naturally fortified, desert capital of Hashind, and will showcase the much praised Upper Cusmo, the crime ridden Lower Cusmo, and much more."
@doriana-gray-games - "Play as your version of Sherlock Holmes in this romance detective game!"
@fallenlightsif - "You are the half-sibling of High General Ezrah Rhys and have lived the past twelve years of your life in Kesdon, the capital of Ebia. You've spent most of your time training and honing your skills for the future that awaits you. A future that is entirely your own."
@shai-manahan - "They call you Ripper. It’s a horrendous name to give to a detective like you, and definitely not one you chose for yourself, but you suppose it’s to be expected given your reputation for putting powerful people behind bars. Businesses feared you. The other cops hated you. Local gangs despised your entire existence. Yet, despite all of that, you remained untouched. Until that day, when all the lies and the deception and the foolish mistakes turned your life upside down."
@larkingame - "someone is after you. for over a decade and a half now, you’ve traveled up, down and across the country--running schemes and hunting fiends with your mentor, con-man-by-day, vampire-hunter-by-night, Wyatt Abrams--the prolific vampire slayer and the living descendant of Gregory Abrams, founder and prophet of the Abrams Family, the nomadic vampire-hunting cult that raised you--and was wiped out years ago. carrying the abrams name means also means carrying on it's enemies--but that isn't to say you haven't forged a couple of your own along the way. now, it seems someone is trying to make good on old threats and promises. they've placed a bounty on your head. so you and wyatt do what you do best: you run away. to some little town, out nevada ways, where the title of town preacher is unexpectedly thrust upon you--bringing back years of trauma you thought long tucked away."
@evertidings - "you are a bounty hunter. responsible for taking in rogue supernaturals, you work for IAOS—the international agency of supernaturals—where, alongside your best friend and partner, you two have quickly become the best hunting duo of the branch. after a particularly tricky hunt, you brief your boss, Caine Atheron, and come back to work the next day to find that he has mysteriously disappeared overnight, the company is now in the hands of his best friend, Sebastian Mai. and though no one else seems to question it, something tells you that there's more to the story."
@rotten-games - Regrets Of The Traitor: "You are the Ruler of Hadaria after killing the previous Queens and betraying all who once trusted you. Sat upon the throne with all the power available to you, one would be forgiven for believing you finished with your quest. With a strange figure in your dreams speaking vague prophecies of magical artifacts, a mysterious cult moving into the city, and a group intent on unseating you from your place, perhaps you’re way in over your head for a farmer’s kid. City of Immortals: "You follow a pair of siblings worlds apart as they get accustomed to their new realities in two very different worlds. One trapped in an unnatural desert wasteland where every resource has a scarcity, not knowing if they’ll be the only one left when everything turns to dust, the other working as a private investigator in a sprawling underground metropolis of the undying. Each not knowing the other is alive, will they unravel the mysteries that somehow connect their two new homes?"
@shepherds-of-haven - "Shepherds of Haven is a dark fantasy interactive fiction game. In it, you play as a Mage living in a world where magic is outlawed and your people—those possessing supernatural powers—are oppressed and reviled. The world is ruled by humans who believe in science, technology, and industry: at best, you and your kind are nothing more than a fairytale, and at worst you are the state’s greatest threat."
@someoneverypretty-world - "As a child, growing up in the slums of Hvinir without any guardians, you believed you would not live to see 30. Until Haven, a thief guild, took you in and taught you how to survive. Facing hardships, the guild leader tasks you to sneak into the castle with the mission to take."
@northern-passage - "The Northern Passage is an 18+ horror fantasy CYOA, where you play as a hunter sent up north to investigate a series of missing people along the border of your home country and in the port cities of the Blackwater. Working with your handler, Lea, you will travel north and discover that things are far worse than you ever could have imagined, and that there is something powerful lurking out in the deep, dark sea…"
@thedecoy-if - "♔ The Decoy is a dark fantasy that follows you, a 21st century normal human, kidnapped to an alternate magical universe to play the part of the missing heir to a powerful throne...who also happens to be your doppelgänger. ♔"
@ripperplague - "You are a doctor, a prodigy in hiding. Deep in the underbelly of Valeris, you hide among the shadows. You work hard to wring the blood stains off your palms, your face...your soul. Redemption and revenge are parallel goals, the flames of rage and disgust mingling. How could anyone ever love you?"
These ones dont have a demo yet, but im still absolutely obsessed
@pavedinashes-if - "You're only 20 when suddenly your life goes bam! Throwing you into a whole new city, a different country even. Wasn't part of the plan, but you know how life loves to mess with plans. People happened, stuff happened, and suddenly you're on the move. The new chapter ahead? Buckle up, 'cause it's not gonna be all sunshine and rainbows. And guess what? Your step-mom? Yeah, she's right there in the same city. She's always had this knack for trying to steer your ship, like every decision's a GPS checkpoint. But hey, there's this one thing that's never let you down—your skateboard. It's like the buddy that's been with you through thick and thin, the one that never bails. Among all this craziness it's like your anchor. So, the big question is—can you break out of the loop you got in? Find your place in the world and restart or lose yourself in temptation? Time to find out."
@riptide-if - "Your dad has always said you swim as if your were born to be in the water; the rest of your family has always said that he is the whole reason you turned out like that. So, it's not really a surprise when you had used all the money you got for your 7th birthday to buy a surfboard. And even less of a surprise when you started joining small surf competitions by the time you were 10, later followed by bigger competitions. It seems you are the only one surprised when it turns out you're able to compete in the World Surfer's League's Ultimate Tournament Tour*. Thrown into a mix of fellow surfing prodigies, rookies, and pros, do you really have what it takes to win?"
@weepinwriter - "You are inmate No. 1441, incarcerated in Tartarus, the most notorious prison on the continent. You find yourself imprisoned for a crime that you do not remember committing, leaving you in a state of uncertainty about your own identity and purpose. The first memory you have is awakening to the sensation of a gun being shoved into your mouth."
@whatawaitsus - "Despite being one of the most expensive schools in the nation, nothing particularly interesting has happened at the school in the nine years you've been here— aside from the occasional accidental possession caused by a ghost or the common room getting flooded after a nixie gets too frustrated over their homework. That is until students start to go missing."
@evermount - "Blue-suited guards stand in every corner, but they're no threat—you're under threat. And this is how you keep safe. It's necessary; the council said so themselves. Under no circumstances shall Evermount be left, ever. So, no one has, and no one intends to. Why would you? It's peaceful—you're at peace. You have your spouse, and you have your house; everyone's happy. This is all you've ever known."
@forsakensword-if - "When the Deathless, an Ancient Evil that hasn’t been seen in over two million years, returns to Earth, it threatens the extremely precarious peace that has settled between the warring factions of Heaven and Hell. God, in an effort to protect Humanity from the consequences of a war between the Angels and Demons, sends Heaven’s best warriors to banish the Deathless once more. When that ultimately fails, it is declared that God’s Sworn Sword and Heaven’s Chief Angel will be charged with finding a way to destroy the Deathless once and for all. That Angel is you. The Archangel Michael."
@velena-if - "You wake up in a dark, cold place with no memories of yourself, save for one: the memory of your death. It becomes clear soon enough that you are in the Nav, the domain of the goddess of death, Morana, and the sanctuary of all the evil spirits and monsters. For you, Nav will be the place where your life changes forever."
@countdown-if - "Three months ago, life took a sharp turn. Your mother found herself entangled in a situation so bad, she couldn't dig her way out of it, like usual. This time, the hole was way too deep. She needed help, and the only people capable of aiding her were the same ones she had vowed never to allow back into her life, let alone introduce to you and your younger sibling. Who were they? Your grandparents—a powerful and well-established duo. In short, they did manage to help your mother back on her feet, but not without strings attached—never without strings. Now, you're facing a senior year in a private school, fully funded by none other than grandma and grandpa, dearest. The only task at hand: do what your mother couldn't—graduate."
@dropout-if - "This is your first summer home since you began studying in Stanford. That is what everyone thinks. This is your first summer home since you dropped out of college, thus becoming the biggest disappointment in your neighborhood. That is what only you know. "
@stonewall-if - "Stonewall Military Academy: the most brutal, merciless, and unforgiving boarding school in the country. Most recruits either desert or die by the end of their first year. It is where the fiercest and deadliest killers are trained and molded to be the military's steel fist. And it is not for the faint of heart."
@viperdove-if - "You are the Dove, the heir to one of the most powerful crime families in your country. The grip your family--your father--has on their side of the land is tight, and now that you've reached adulthood it's time for you to be fully absorbed into the machinations of gang warfare. That means opium, mercenaries, assassinations. In this ancient world, blood moves people just as much as money does."
@fallen-if - "You are an individual that has been known by many aliases over the years. Child of the dawn, the original sinner, star of the morning. But no matter the name, your identity remains the same. You are the one that defied the heavens, the one that cast aside the shackles of tradition and broke free from the constraints of the divine. You are Lucifer Morningstar - The Fallen Angel. "
@maboroshi-if - "Maboroshi is an Interactive Fiction Game based in the world of Naruto, however, all events within the story span during the end of the First Shinobi War and the beginning of the Second Shinobi War."
@greatprotector-if - "Forced out of your family's farm against your will, you are now an ocean away from home, and you have somehow been chosen to be the main protector of the heir to some kingdom you’ve hardly even heard of. The spot's only open because the former protector died of old age, so that's probably a good indicator that it won't be as strenuous as it sounds. But despite that, you pour yourself into your work. You can't help it. You feel safer decked out in armour, and you like having something you're trusted to look after. Protect some royalty, cover all your blind spots, and try not to worry about all you've left behind."
@retribution-if - "Retribution, He Cries is a revenge story set in the Dark Ages of the fictional world of [REDACTED] and other realms."
@thescarsilivewith-if - "You were a kind monarch once. After your mother’s brutal reign, you thought your people needed respite. Evidently, they didn’t think the same since their bloodthirst only increased. Three years after your coronation, your mother’s favourite consort dethroned you with the army and the clergy’s support. As you fled from the palace together with your spouse, from an arranged marriage celebrated only three months earlier, you were found by slavers. You managed to save your spouse but not yourself. Four years later, your spouse finds you, though you’re not the same person they knew. You are not changed in spirit alone, however, for your magic grew in your captivity and now you’re unbound. When the crown chose you as its owner, you wanted peace for your kingdom. Now the only thing you crave is revenge."
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