Sometimes, you now realize, it's better to keep your mouth shut than say anything at all.

Because what on Earth were you thinking? Offering yourself up to your boyfriend's—extremely hot—friends may have not been your smartest decision. You've told Jay time and time again to never take anything you say seriously for at least thirty minutes after he fucks you.

Yeah, his dick is that fucking good.

But now you're on your bed, legs spread wide with your boyfriend sitting behind you. His arms are hooked under your armpits, supporting your body as you press your back into his chest with every soft flick of Sunghoon's tongue over your clit. Yes, Sunghoon's tongue.

You can only see the top of his head; only see the floppy mop of hair that brushes along your inner thigh every time he tilts his head to get a better angle. Your back arches up off of Jay's chest, a whine ripping out of your throat when Sunghoon flattens his tongue and licks a particularly long stripe up your pussy.

"Fuck!"

Jay chuckles behind you, kissing your neck as he strokes your stomach. "Feels good, baby?" You nod feverishly against him, craning your neck to burry your face into his chest. "Sunghoon making your pussy feel good?"

Sunghoon's lips find your clit, latching on and suckling the swollen bud. You whine again, thighs threatening to close around his head. "Hoonie—mpfh, there, there!"

Never, in your entire life, did you believe you'd find anyone who could compare to Jay's ability to eat you out. The man had it down to a science; knew exactly where to lick, where to kiss, where to suck and prod. He knew when to speed up his movements, when to flatten his tongue, when you needed more stimulation from his fingers. Every single time, like clockwork, Jay had you writhing and squirming and begging him to keep going, even after you'd come twice, because it just felt that good.

And here comes Sunghoon—threatening to kick Jay off his throne. He was eating you out like you would seriously be his last meal on Earth; like he'd go home to no food, no money, and would be forced to starve for the rest of his life. He was ravaging you, completely abusing your pussy. And Sunghoon knew it was good. He knew you were obsessed from the way you thrashed in Jay's arms and the way you tried to pull away from his mouth.

Sunghoon chuckles against your core, vibrations traveling from your puffy lips up to the growing heat in your stomach. You moan, high-pitched and squeaky. Jay kept up his kissing, offering little nips here and there when you move too much.

"Almost there, baby," he whispers into you, "let Hoonie do his thing."

And let him you did. Because not even two seconds later are you cumming all over Sunghoon's face. He doesn't relent, simply keeping up his pace. Sunghoon flattens his tongue, licking thick and slow stripes up your pussy, gathering your arousal onto his tongue before scarfing it down. You twitch from the overstimulation, and he places delicate kisses onto your clit.

Sunghoon never meets your eyes, too entranced by your soaking pussy to pay your pouty face any mind. It twitched when he pulled away, hole clenching around nothing—begging Sunghoon for any kind of pressure. He chuckles, kissing your clit again. Sunghoon's tongue darts out from his mouth, playing with the bud before licking another stripe along your entrance.

"Fuck, Jay," he groans, going in for more, "she tastes so fucking good."

Jay laughs behind you, cocky and arrogant because he knew. Every damn night he was having the revelation Sunghoon was currently having; every night he could bury his face into your pussy and make you cum on his face; every night he could bury his fingers deep inside of you, pulling them out of your hole and into his mouth as he sucked them clean of your arousal. He knew you tasted like fucking heaven, but his friends didn't.

This was all a part of his sick fantasy.

"I know, man—I'm the one tasting her every night."

"And you're so damn lucky for it." Sunghoon finally lifts his eyes to meet your own. Your eyes are glassy and hooded, the aftereffects of the mind blowing head he'd just given you.

You take note of his eyes as he did yours. Contrary to your own, Sunghoon's eyes were wide, pupils blown out with pleasure and curiosity. Because, honestly, Sunghoon was curious. He was curious to know every small detail about you, sexually, of course.

He wanted to know what made you cum hardest, what elicited the cutest sounds out of you, what made you cry, what made you beg, how his name would sound falling off your lips mid-orgasm—everything. Sunghoon was fully prepared to memorize the way you worked for his own wet dreams later on.

"What I wouldn't do to taste her every day," he whispers, kissing your thigh. You whine at the contact, twitching lightly.

"Don't test your luck, Hoon," Jay warns, a tight laugh accompanying his words.

"Oh, c'mon, man," Sunghoon sits up from his position on the bed and onto his knees between your legs, an obvious wet patch plastered across the crotch of his gray sweatpants; the crotch that flaunted his incredibly hard cock. "I'd suck your dick—serious."

"Gross! I don't want you sucking my dick," Jay's hands make their way up to your breasts, cupping them through your shirt. You weren't wearing a bra—you didn't see the point. Jay gropes your tits over the fabric, squeezing the mounds and pinching your nipples as his lips stay on your saliva-covered neck.

"Well, if it meant I got to do this more often," Sunghoon leans forward, lips connecting to your jaw on the opposite side Jay was working, "I'd suck your dick."

"Why would I need anyone else sucking my dick when I have her?"

Sunghoon moans at Jay's words, cock jumping in his pants. His hands quickly latch onto your waist, pulling you closer to him. He grips the flesh through your shirt, almost kneading you in his hands. "Fuck—wanna feel it."

You feel Sunghoon's cock against your shin, desperately rutting into you with the promise of friction.

"Gotta pick one," Jay says, "you either get to fuck her mouth or fuck her pussy—not both."

"C'mon, Jay," Sunghoon protests, pulling off of you and resting on his heels, "this isn't fair."

"I don't really care about what's fair," he laughs, finally raising his head to look at Sunghoon, "she's my girlfriend."

Sunghoon stares at Jay; Jay stares at Sunghoon. The two have that challenging look to them, daring the other to back down. Neither want to, that's the problem. And you're sitting right in the middle of it—legs spread wide, pussy soaking and clenching around nothing. Neither of them seem to care, almost as if they'd forgotten your presence as if they weren't literally arguing over you.

"Choose," Jay challenges.

"I can't," Sunghoon groans, throwing his head back in frustration.

You snake your socked foot up Sunghoon's thigh, the sole resting on the tent in Sunghoon's pants. He groans, immediately snapping his attention down to the contact. You circle your ankle once, twice, to give him some relief before retreating back to the bed.

Sunghoon grabs your ankle, thumb rubbing soft circles onto the fabric of your sock as he keeps his gaze focused on you. His eyes narrow, sharp and plotting, like he's running through all of the situations in his mind.

"What do you think, pretty girl?" Sunghoon's voice comes out quietly, almost like he wants the conversation to be between the two of you, no Jay in sight.

Jay pinches your nipple, your back arching off of his chest. "I don't know," you whine, "just want something."

"It's your choice," he leans closer, lips brushing along your jaw. His hand slides from your ankle up to the bend of your knee, settling there. "You want Hoonie's cock in your mouth," he pecks your lips with his own, "or your pussy?" Sunghoon cups you in his hand; the simple action alone has you bucking up into him, desperate.

"Mouth," you moan, "wan' you in my mouth, Hoonie."

He chuckles, "Right answer."

Jay gives your tits one last squeeze before pulling his arms out from under you. His hand finds your shoulder blades, holding you steady as he changes his position to be on his knees. Jay towers above you from behind, and Sunghoon rises in front of you.

Sunghoon's clothed dick is practically in your face. You can see the strain; the way the tip leaks precum and the way he's begging to be touched. So, you lean in on all fours. Your lips meet his clothed cock, placing soft pecks onto his tip before your hand comes up to cradle the rest of his length.

Sunghoon hisses at the contact, hand instinctively coming to grab a fistful of hair, "Holy shit," he huffs out. Your kisses turn sloppy—open mouthed and needy. Sunghoon's eyes widen before returning to their previous hooded nature; he meets Jay's gaze.

"Your fucking girlfriend, dude," he moans, tugging on your hair.

Jay just laughs, palming your ass, hands delving deeper before his fingers find your desperate pussy. "Yeah, she's insane."

You giggle at their praise, ass wiggling back against Jay—a silent request for him to slip his fingers in. Jay tuts, fingers prodding at your puffy lips, collecting your arousal. "This isn't about you, princess—this is about Sunghoon."

Sunghoon isn't paying attention to a word of what came out of Jay's mouth; his hand hastily dips underneath his waistband and pulls out his cock. When it appears in front of your face, all you can do is stare.

Now, based on how he carries himself, you never assumed Sunghoon was small. However, it still doesn't quell the initial shock you feel when you finally see his dick. It sits proudly in his hand, thick and long, a few noticeable veins trailing up the side. His tip is red and pumping precum.

Sunghoon watches your reaction, pumping his cock as soft groans slip past his lips. "Fuck—'m gonna cum just from how she's looking at it."

"You're so big, Hoonie," you whisper, chin lifting to meet his eyes. "I don' think I'm gonna be able to take you all."

Jay scoffs behind you, two fingers circling your wet entrance before slipping into your pussy. "C'mon, you can take him—you take me all the time."

You swallow thickly, leaning forward as you lick a small stripe up Sunghoon's tip, collecting a drop of his precum. Sunghoon's eyes roll back in his head at the contact, hand tightening in your hair.

"He's no bigger than I am, baby," Jay chuckles.

"Fuck you, Jay," Sunghoon moans, head thrown back, "let her suck my fucking cock—don't need any of your cocky bullshit."

You giggle at Sunghoon's words, his obvious neediness slipping through the sounds. Your breath fans over his tip, and without thinking, he bucks his hips forward, tip pressing against your lips. You part your lips, taking the head of Sunghoon's cock into your mouth. You suckle it, looking into his eyes as you do so.

"It's true, she knows it," Jay curls his fingers inside of you; you moan around Sunghoon's cock.

Sunghoon bucks his hips at the vibrations, burying himself a few inches into your mouth. You let out a shocked squeak, but don't pull off. You simply take the time to adjust to his length.

"Show me, then," Sunghoon lets out a strained laugh, "let her see 'em next to each other."

"Fuck you, dude," Jay pulls his fingers out of you before slamming them back it. You jump at the sudden harshness of his actions, pushing yourself deeper onto Sunghoon's cock. His tip hits the back of your throat; you hollow your cheeks, sucking him deeper. "Not gonna show you my dick."

"Why not?" Sunghoon grunts, hand gripping your hair harder. His free hand cradles your jaw, holding you in place.

"'cause," Jay grunts, fingers picking up the pace inside of you.

You moan around Sunghoon's dick, tears brimming in your eyes as Sunghoon begins to set his own pace for your mouth. His one hand still holds your jaw still while the other fists your hair; you're entirely pliable in his hands. Sunghoon's treating you like a stupid fucktoy, like you're only purpose is to get him off; and you fucking love it.

You sit there, fire blooming deep in your belly while the two men abuse you from either side.

"Shit, your mouth's so good, baby," Sunghoon nearly whines at the way you're sucking him. You rest your tongue on the underside of his cock, feeling his vein with each thrust he gives. All you can do is babble little moans; saliva and precum pooling at the corners of your mouth and dripping down your chin.

You let out a particularly high moan when Jay's fingers find that one spot—the one deep inside your gummy pussy. Sunghoon bottoms out without warning, pressing you so deep down his cock that your nose brushes his pelvis.

He cums down your throat, not even bothering to pull away from you. You let him, eagerly taking every drop of cum he gives you. You feel your own orgasm wash over you, legs shaking as Jay wraps an arm around your waist to stabilize you. You cum on his fingers, arousal dripping obscenely down his hand and onto his wrist.

"There we go," Jay coos, soothing you through your orgasm.

Sunghoon doesn't let go, not for a few seconds. When he finally releases his grip on your hair, you pull off, a string of saliva and cum connecting your swollen lips to his spent cock. You gasp for air falling back into Jay.

Jay wraps his body around yours, clean hand brushing your hair out of your face as he laughs at your fucked out state.

"Holy," Sunghoon breaths out, "fucking shit, Jay."

Sunghoon falls down onto the side of the bed next to you and Jay, head crashing into the pillow as he lets out a deep breath and closes his eyes. "There's no fucking way you're doing this every night."

Jay laughs at his friend, moving you to rest on the bed in between them. Jay throws an arm around your waist, hands snaking under your shirt and stroking the skin beneath. "Jealous?"

"So fucking jealous, man." Sunghoon runs a hand through his hair, letting out another deep breath. "Gonna be thinking about that for years—seriously, best fucking blowjob I've ever had."

"It was good?" You croak out, turning your head to look at Sunghoon with big, curious eyes.

"Please tell me you're not actually asking me that."

"She always asks that," Jay groans, kissing your shoulder.

"It was fucking incredible," Sunghoon leans in and kisses the top of your head, softly petting your hair before he pulls away. When he does, he notices Jay's glare. "What?"

"Watch yourself, Hoonie," he mocks, pulling you closer to his body.

"Chill—she's your girlfriend, I know," Sunghoon shakes his head, huffing out a laugh. Silence envelopes the room for a moment, the three of you existing in the space together. Sunghoon shifts in the bed, the sound of the sheets and blankets rustling interrupting the calm.

"Are you seriously gonna let Jake and Heeseung fuck her?" He asks as if it's the most casual conversation in the world.

Jay shrugs, turning to you. "Do you wanna fuck 'em, baby?"

Your eyes dart between the two men, before you softly curl in on yourself, "I mean," you begin, voice small, "I wouldn't hate it."

Jay laughs at your response, "No need to be shy—I don't get jealous about that."

Sunghoon scoffs and rolls his eyes, muttering something about how Jay is a 'big fat fucking liar'.

"Plus, they all know you're my girlfriend," he finishes, "right, Hoonie?"

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Your boyfriend was hot—there was no denying it. But after the fourth or fifth round of him and Heeseung barking at each other over a stupid shooter game? Fucking yawn. It got a little bit boring. You were getting antsy—desperate for even a little bit of attention. Jay was sweet, a hand resting on your thigh in between matches. But it just wasn't enough.

You were a human.

You had needs.

And maybe those needs just so happened to be sitting on the couch, man spreading and whining about whatever-the-fuck, while your boyfriend went to the bathroom. You were bold in every sense of the word; you didn't really give a damn what anyone thought about you. And with permission from your boyfriend?

You were already crawling over to where Heeseung sat on the couch. He was scrolling on his phone, completely in his own world and not at all paying attention to the scheming smirk you had across your lips.

That wasn't until you dramatically sighed, pulled his phone right out of his hands, and settled atop his perfect lap. Heeseung put his hands up—he refused to touch you, not until Jay said something. Yeah, sure, that whole video debacle had been running rampant through his mind for weeks; you know, the one where you asked all of your boyfriend's friends to fuck you.

Heeseung assumed that's what this was about, but Jay was fucking scary when he got mad; and nothing riled him up more than some uninvited guest coming onto his beloved girlfriend.

"Woah, wha,"

"Do you wanna cash in your check?" You ask, eyes wide and begging for anything. Your hands rest on his abdomen, softly stroking the baggy shirt that covers his skin. You bite your lip softly—really playing into the whole needy act.

"Do I wanna what?" Heeseung was already out of breath.

"Cash in your check," you repeat. Your hands snake up to his chest carefully; your eyes dart down to that spot caged in between your thighs. Heeseung was already getting hard. "Sunghoon did a few days ago."

"Sunghoon wha,"

"What the fuck," Jay scoffs, appearing in the doorway to the living room. He wipes his damp hands onto his t-shirt, strolling over to the two of you on the couch. Jay's hand finds the crown of your head, petting you softly. "Seriously, babe? You're so fucking easy."

"You let Sunghoon fuck her?" Heeseung nearly screams, hands flying to your waist when you roll your hips in a particularly torturous way.

Jay shrugs, leaning forward to kiss the top of your head, "I mean—he didn't fuck her."

"What the fuck is that s'posed—mpfh," you roll your hips again, leaning closer into Heeseung's touch. "S'posed to mean?"

"I give you guys a choice," he responds. Jay stops giving you attention, instead finding the spot next to Heeseung. He leans back against the couch, head tipped up to the ceiling and legs spread wide, showcasing his own growing bulge. "You can either fuck her mouth, or fuck her pussy—not both."

"And what did he choose?" Heeseung's grip on your waist tightens as you continue to move—soft, slow, needy. All of his words come out short and through gritted teeth as if he's desperately trying to keep his composure. And, well, he kinda is. Even without actually feeling you, Heeseung can tell just how good of a fuck you'll be.

You dip down into Heeseung, lips finding his neck. He lets out a quiet moan which he quickly bites back.

Jay smirks at his friend, raising his eyebrows in silent recognition. "He chose her mouth."

Heeseung nods, eyebrows furrowing. He pushes you away—only slightly—to watch the movement in between you two. He watches the way your hips slowly grind onto his clothed cock; he watches as his cock springs to life with your every roll; he watches his patience and self-respect slowly dissipate into a horniness he's genuinely never felt before in his life.

You're whining over him, hands fisting his shirt desperately. Jay's hand slides up Heeseung's neck and settles in his hair. He plays with it, waiting for Heeseung to respond to his imaginary question. Heeseung outright moans, head falling back into Jay's hand, turning to look at his friend.

"What do you choose?" Jay whispers, eyes softening at how desperate you've already made Heeseung.

"Fuck," Heeseung groans once more, sucking in a breath through his teeth. "Can she ride me?"

Jay chuckles, "You wanna ride him, baby?"

You nod feverishly, hips stalling as you look to your boyfriend. He turns to Heeseung, flashing him a smirk before he pushes himself off the couch. Jay finds himself behind you, hands atop your breasts as he massages them through your shirt.

"You're lucky," he begins, fingers finding the hem of your shirt, "I didn't let Sunghoon take her shirt off—but you won't get the full experience unless you see her tits."

Heeseung groans at Jay's words. You lift your arms, whining softly as Jay tugs the fabric over your head; your hands fly right back to Heeseung's chest, fingers digging into his shirt.

Behind you, Jay tuts. He reaches for the clasp of your bra, wasting no time in unbuttoning it and sliding it off of your body. His hands cover Heeseung's on your waist, pulling you up off of him. "C'mon, baby," Jay coos. He kisses your neck softly, eyes locked on Heeseung. "Show him how pretty your tits are."

You start to curl in on yourself, fingers finding the hem of Heeseung's shirt as they nervously play with it. Heeseung is floored; his eyes are wide and mouth agape. He glances up at Jay, silently asking for permission. When Jay nods, Heeseung wastes no time before grabbing your breasts. The mounds find Heeseung's hands delicately as he toys with them, fingers brushing over you nipples to watch you squirm.

"You have no idea how much I think about these," he whispers. Heeseung leans forward and places a soft kiss onto one of your breasts—he looks up at you with the prettiest eyes you've ever seen.

"I think I have some kind of idea," Jay quips.

Heeseung takes one of your mounds into his mouth, lips wrapping around you carefully as his tongue finds your nipple. He swirls his tongue around the bud, moaning into your flesh as he feels you shake. Your hands fly to his hair, tugging at the strands softly.

"Heeseung," you gasp, hips rocking against his lap. "Jay," you whine, "feels so good."

"Yeah, I know," he coos back at you. Jay's hand finds your hair, softly brushing through it as he watches this whole scene unfold from behind. "You love getting your tits sucked, hm?"

You nod at his words; Heeseung moans.

"Please, Heeseung," you push his forehead—an attempt to get him off of your chest and looking into your eyes. "'m so," Your lip quivers as you stare at him.

Heeseung looks up at you before turning his attention to Jay. "You're fucking joking," he says, breathless.

Jay just laughs at Heeseung's breathlessness before feigning ignorance. "Wha'dya mean?"

"She's a fucking wet dream, dude," Heeseung throws his head back, grip tightening on your waist as he eggs you to keep grinding down onto him. He squeezes his eyes shut, letting a drawn out moan erupt from his chest. "Fucking shaking—'re you that needy?"

You nod, hands sliding down to palm his cock through his sweatpants. "Please, Heeseung," you whisper, "wanna feel you."

Heeseung just nods at you, eyes lidded. His hands cover your own, coaxing you off of his bulge. His hands fidget with his waistband, finally freeing himself. Heeseung holds his cock in his hand, hissing as he watches the precum dribble out from his tip.

Jay lets out a low whistle, "Wow, Hee," he teases, "look at that." Jay leans down, hooking his chin over your shoulder. He places a kiss on your neck. "You're fucking leaking," he chuckles, turning to you, "guess you're not the only needy one, hm?"

Heeseung whines when you reach out, wrapping your hand around his dick. You pump him a few times, lifting your hips as your hands move to remove your shorts.

"No prep?" Jay teases.

"I don't need it," you mumble as your shorts messily come off.

Jay quirks a brow, scoffing. "No fucking way."

"What?" Heeseung groans. You lean forward, pecking the corner of his mouth as you lift up and line his tip up with your entrance.

"You little,"

"What the fuck are you talking about, man?" Heeseung's hands dig into your waist so hard you're sure you'll have bruises the next morning. He whines, head thrown back as you sink down onto the tip of his leaking cock.

"She fucking fingered herself 'cause she knew you'd be over," he scoffs.

If you thought Heeseung was being loud before—that comment turned the notch up twelve decibels. Jay's comment mixed with you bottoming out on his cock, well, Heeseung was honestly shocked he didn't cum right then and there.

Heeseung keeps his tight grip on you, steadying you where you sit on his pelvis. You watch the deep rise and fall of his chest; the way he lets the breaths be audible and ring out into the living room. His eyes are squeezed shut, but every time they open even a little bit, you notice how they're rolled back.

"Heeseung," you whine, "'m so full."

"Move for him," Jay coaxes. He peppers kisses on your neck, hands covering Heeseung's own. "Let him feel you, yeah?"

You listen to Jay, picking up your hips before slowly lowering back down onto him. You set a steady rhythm—slow and controlled. With every movement, you can feel all of Heeseung. He was around the same size as Sunghoon—although Sunghoon was thicker in girth. Neither of them simulated Jay's cock, that you were positive about. You feel the drag of his cock along your walls; feel every vein and throb his length offers.

You're trying to play it cool, trying to make it seem as if this is a normal occurrence, but it's simply not. No matter how many times Jay fucks you—you'll never get used to his cock, it's just not possible. Heeseung's size fills you up perfectly, but it still takes a while to get used to. The stretch burns—but Jay said to move, so you moved.

You pick up the pace when you feel the burn start subside. One of Jay's hands snakes forward, applying pressure onto your clit. You moan your boyfriend's name, head falling forward onto Heeseung's shoulder. "Fuck—right there."

You notice when Heeseung starts to get more comfortable—the way his hips start to meet yours with thrusts of his own, the way he takes a little bit more control of the whole situation, offering you help and easing some of the pressure off your legs.

"Her pussy's so fuckin' tight, Jay," Heeseung moans. He's entranced by you entirely.

Jay's fingers speed up on your clit, smirking at Heeseung's words. Jay watches Heeseung's face—every twitch, every tense of muscle, every reaction to your body.

If you thought you were having trouble keeping it together, then Jay had it ten times worse. He was trying to play the cool, dominant boyfriend who shares his girlfriend with his friends—he didn't know it'd turn him on so fucking much. The neglect of his cock was torturous, but he knew he couldn't do anything about it.

The tip of Heeseung's cock hit that spot, and when you moaned particularly loud, Heeseung kept up the pace. He found it again and again, abusing your poor pussy in the effort to get you off. Heeseung's cock mixed with Jay's fingers on your clit had that familiar heat pooling in your belly.

"Heeseung," you moan.

"She's gonna cum, Hee," Jay interrupts, "make it good for her, yeah?"

Heeseung listens to Jay—keeping his pace steady and continuing to hit that spot in your pussy. "Dude, I can't," he groans, "she's so fucking wet—so warm, shit."

You stop your movements, clenching hard around Heeseung as you cum with a loud whine. Heeseung follows closely behind, dumping his load into you as he groans. "Jay—fuck, 'm sorry."

Heeseung's head lolls back, eyes hooded as they stare you down. They flick down to the place where the two of you meet; he watches as his cum leaks out of you and onto his thighs. His chest rises heavily with each deep breath he inhales, trying to calm down.

"I did not," he pants, "mean to cum inside her."

Jay clicks his tongue, finger slowing down on your clit when he notices you twitch from overstimulation. "Don't worry about it," he lies, trying to shrug it off like he's not absolutely seething at the fact.

You drop from your forehead onto your cheek where you rest on Heeseung's shoulder. You stare at the wall across from you, waiting for the colored dots to disappear from your vision. You reach behind you for your boyfriend, smiling when you feel him grab your hand.

"You good, baby?"

"Mhm," you hum, nodding as you tug him onto the couch next to you and Heeseung. He complies, watching you with careful eyes for any sign of discomfort. Heeseung's hands wrap around your torso, pulling you closer to his body; his cock is still buried inside of you, slowly softening.

Your hand separates itself from Jay's. Slowly, you snake it up his thigh and onto the tent in his pants. Jay quietly hisses, before gently swatting your hand away. "'m fine, pretty."

"But you deserve to cum, Jay," you softly respond.

Jay's heart simply melts at your tone—the way you always worry about him when, in reality, the only thing he cares about is your pleasure.

"I don't want you to do anything—promise." Jay smiles at you, bringing your hand to his lips as he presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

"Then you do something," Heeseung speaks up. The three of you fall silent, allowing Heeseung's words to marinate in your minds.

"What?" Jay asks, eyebrow quirked.

Heeseung finally turns to look at Jay, "Do something about it." Heeseung's eyes flick down to Jay's crotch—an obvious wet patch displayed across it—and gives him a challenging look. "Get off—to her, to me, to both of us."

Jay hates to admit how his cock jumps at Heeseung's words—at the way he suggests it. Jay swallows thickly, scoffing like it's no big deal. And it isn't, not until your hand finds its way back onto his bulge, squeezing his dick.

He moans, but lets you grope him.

"Show us, Jay," you whisper, a cheeky smile spreading across your lips.

Jay—eyebrows knitted together and eyes hooded—thinks it over. His cock hurts and watching you ride one of his best friends was genuinely one of the hottest things he'd ever seen you do. So, he sucks up his pride, swats your hand away, and watches as his own hand dips below the waistband of his sweats.

Jay hisses at the contact, letting out an open-mouthed 'ah' as he pulls his cock out from its confinements. You and Heeseung shamelessly stare at Jay's cock—long, girthy, and standing proudly in his hand.

Jay doesn't look at the two of you, he just can't bring himself to. He pumps his cock, once, twice, hissing at every movement of his hand. He's sensitive—so fucking sensitive. It almost hurts to touch himself, but fuck, does it feel good.

You and Heeseung just watch the whole ordeal; you watch as Jay's hand slides up and down his dick, watch as his chest rises and falls, watch as he desperately tries to keep his composure.

Jay moans, almost whining as he closes his eyes. He throws his head back, squeezing his cock as he shuts his eyes. "Oh, fuck," he draws out, "oh my God."

Heeseung's lips part, a soft breath that could almost be mistaken for a moan slipping past them. He shifts you in his lap, cock slowly springing back to life; you whine when you feel him start to fill you up once more.

"Oh, baby," Jay groans, "fuck, you feel so good."

"Jay, dude," Heeseung whines. He feels his hands getting restless, tightening his grip on your waist.

"Shut up," Jay says, "stop fucking," he's interrupted by a moan, "fucking talking."

You lick your lips, watching as Jay's cock begins to leak more and more. His tip ruthlessly pumps out precum, coating his red dick with the milky, white substance.

"'m almost," Jay's mouth opens wide, jaw tensing at the stretch, "fuck, fuck, fuck."

Jay cums with a whine—something guttural and not on purpose. He pumps his fist faster, drawing out a long groan as he empties his load across his hand. Jay doesn't stop until his cock softens, falling slack in his grip.

He takes a moment to breathe, turning to look at the two of you.

Heeseung's eyes are blown-out and hooded; your face is red and breath unsteady.

"Jay," Heeseung croaks out, "I think we might have a slight problem."

Jay groans in frustration, squeezing his eyes shut to quell the cloudiness hazing his mind.

"You're not fucking her again," he breathes, "go jerk off or s'mthing."

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The sweat pooled between your back and Jay’s chest would’ve been disgusting in any instance other than this one. With both of your clothes discarded somewhere on the floor and his chest pressed flush against your back, you, quite frankly, didn’t give a flying fuck about anything else.

Jay hovered over you; his arms parallel to your face as he fiddled with his phone on the windowsill. You just sat there, patient as ever and admiring your boyfriend on the camera. You tried to sit still, but, fuck it, you were horny. Goddamn that gorgeous man.

This was almost routine at this point—Jay recording you. He was protective and easily provoked with fits of jealousy, so it was contradictory. Wouldn’t someone so hellbent on making sure everyone knew you were his want to keep your sex life a secret? Well, sure, in a sense. It wasn’t like he was posting these videos for the world—not at all. He was just sending them to his groupchat, obviously.

You couldn’t remember the first time this happened, but for some reason, it didn’t bother you. You weren’t stupid. You noticed Heeseung’s wandering eyes that always landed on your chest, you weren’t oblivious when it came to Sunghoon trying to show off his gym progress, and there was no way Jake wasn’t even a little bit conscious when he’d drape his body over your own at the bar. But the weirdest part? Jay never cared.

Your boyfriend would’ve pulled you possessively close and thrown a mean look over his shoulder had it been anyone other than his friends acting like this. You’d thought about it a lot—what the difference was in response, and you finally came up with your conclusion. 

Jay got off on it.

Jay simply loved knowing his friends were so enamored with you that they probably jerked off to your Instagram account. He loved knowing he was the one that got to fuck you—not them; loved knowing that he was the one splitting you open on his cock, he was the one tasting your delicious pussy, he was the one making you cum and cry and beg for more. 

And yeah, his friends talked about it. His friends mentioned how hot you were, cornered Jay into giving them details about the sex, everything. Quick comments of, “How tight is she,” and even, “How does she look when she cums—fuck, I bet she sounds so hot.” And you knew, though you pretended you didn’t.

So, when one night of disgustingly passionate sex after a night out with Jake and Heeseung eyefucking you was coming to an end, Jay asked if he could record. You said yes, he pressed the button, and after five minutes of slow, sensual strokes, you came around Jay with a loud cry and soft whimpers to accompany your clenches.

“I’m sending this to the guys,” he said as you two started drifting off.

You just laughed in response and said “Do it, I wanna see what they say.”

And after that night, it became routine. Jay didn’t always record the two of you, maybe once every few months. But the knowledge that the camera was on and his friends would be watching turned him on more than he’d like to admit. Jay liked to rub it in their faces. He liked to say I’m the one who gets to fuck her pussy, not you without actually saying it.

Tonight was different; tonight had a purpose. 

“Fuck,” you felt his muscles flex beneath you. You reached up and grabbed Jay’s bicep, a soft moan slipping past your lips; you were getting impatient. “I don’t like the angle, it’s pissing me off.”

Jay grabbed the phone from the windowsill and put it in your hands. He adjusted your arms, making sure your face and chest were visible. The only part of himself on camera was his chest and shoulders, but he got cut off at the neck. Jay pressed a few kisses on your neck, wet and open mouthed, as his hands found themselves on your waist. He stroked your skin, soft and lovingly before giving it a quick squeeze.

“Wanna press record for me, baby?” He murmured into your neck. You nodded, hands shaking as your fingers found the red button on his phone. Jay’s hands splayed themselves over your stomach, the tips of his fingers dangerously close to your pussy. You were wet—so wet—with anticipation that the mere suggestion of Jay touching you made you impossibly wetter.

“They can’t see you,” you breathed out.

Jay chuckled. His fingers found your clit as they rubbed soft circles onto the bud. Your back arched up off his chest and a moan fell from your kiss-swollen lips. “It’s okay—they know who’s fucking you.” 

Jay continued touching you, and you just stared into the camera. You made pouty faces and gave it soft winks and smiles as though you were testing out angles for a selfie or admiring your fresh makeup. Every now and again, when Jay would rub your clit just right, your mouth would fall open or your face would twist with pleasure. You’d catch it on the screen, and a soft blush would rest across your cheeks with a shy smile across your lips.

“Tell them what’s happening,” Jay whispered. His fingers picked up the pace; you internally cursed him because you knew he did it on purpose—knew he wanted to hear your voice quiver and shake while you addressed his friends.

“Uhm,” you began, a shy giggle slipping past you as you moaned. “Wha,” you squeezed your eyes shut, “Whad’you want me to tell them?”

“What you told me,” Jay’s voice was low and sensual. You could hear him fine, but the video only picked it up in the distance, although the viewer could hear him clearly. “What you want me to do.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at his words. Right. That. “Oh,” you bite your lip as Jay picks up his pace again before quickly slowing down. His fingers move along your swollen bud slowly now, large circles that make you shake with want. “I told Jay that,” you hesitate a bit, staring at yourself on the screen with big eyes.

Jay comes into view now, hooking his chin over your shoulder. He admires the two of you on screen and a sly smirk paints his sharp features. Jay licks his lips and chuckles before he latches onto your neck. He nips and sucks your skin, making you jump each time he makes contact with a new area. “C’mon, use your words,” he says, “Tell ‘em what you told me—don’t get shy now.”

You swallow thickly before nodding. “I kinda want him to be,” you hesitate again, your voice growing smaller. “Like, rough with me.” 

“Like what?”

A whine slips past you as you purse your lips into a pout. Of course, he’s doing this. Jay likes to act all macho when the camera’s on, likes to humiliate you because he knows it’s what his friends get off to. 

“Like, slap me a bit, be a lil’ rough—not too much, though! I don’t wanna hurt.”

“Y’know I won’t hurt you, baby.”

You nod again. Your lip is between your teeth once more and you will yourself to keep talking. “Fuck me harder than usual—y’know? I jus’ kinda wonder what it feels like.”

“Yeah,” he’s talking to the camera now, “Figured I’d show you boys what it’s like to throw her around.” A wicked smirk takes over him once more as he removes himself from your neck and focuses on the camera. Jay grabs the phone from you and puts it on the windowsill. He fiddles with it again, obviously unhappy with the angle. Jay clicks his tongue, ultimately deciding it’ll do.

The camera shows more now. It shows your completely naked body and how you’re sitting on the bed, back against Jay’s chest and legs open for them to see you dripping. The angle also shows Jay’s fingers back on your pussy. They rub slow circles on your clit once more, and with your hands free you take the opportunity to grab onto Jay’s biceps. Your eyes are screwed shut, mouth hung open as soft pants slip out. Jay kisses your shoulder once, twice, before he removes his hands and brings them to your waist.

Jay scooches back from you and hooks his arms under your armpits. He hoists you up until you’re sitting on your knees before he places his hand on the small of your back. “Bend over for me,” he commands, and of course, you comply.

You let Jay’s hand guide you down - face first into the sheets. Your cheek is pressed into the cloth when you feel Jay grab your hands. He binds the two with the fingers of just one of his hands while the other lands a sharp smack across your ass. Immediately, you feel the sting from his hand, yet you still moan. The sound surprises you, but not Jay. No, Jay expected you to like it—he knows you too well. 

He holds your wrists behind your back and soothes the red print with his hand. Your thighs clench together, and he notices. 

“C’mon, don’t hide from me,” he coos. Your pussy oozes arousal and you feel Jay drag his finger up your slit. Your hips move on their own, pushing back towards him for some kind of relief. Jay clicks his tongue, gathering the wetness onto his fingers before pulling away.

He leans towards the camera and spreads his fingers apart. The scene is grotesque; your slick strings together as his fingers spread, wetness visibly dripping down their slender form all for the phone to see. Jay makes eye contact with the camera, smirking while he brings his fingers into his mouth. The man laps at them—starved. He moans and sighs in pleasure, eyes screwed shut as he relishes in your taste.

He pulls away, examining your position. Jay leans forward, licks a thick stripe up your pussy, and lands another sharp slap, this time on your pussy. You twitch and cry out, tears prickling into your eyes.

Jay chuckles before shoving two of his fingers inside of you—rough and unapologetic with no warning. He pumps his digits in and out, in and out, at a brutal pace. There’s no intention of slowing down or showing you any signs of mercy. The squelchy sounds of your pussy are obscene—the sound bouncing off the walls all around the two of you.

“Yeah, look at that—fuck. You’re sucking them in, baby,” Jay leans forward and kisses your pussy, lips attaching to your clit as he suckles the swollen bud. Your whines join the rest of the absurd sounds, putting on a show for the camera.

Jay curls his fingers perfectly, right at the spot he knows drives you mad. You let out a particularly loud moan, and that seemed to be Jay’s cue. He picks up the pace, slamming his fingers in and out of you, abusing the spongy spot inside of your pussy. The palm of his hand smacks against your ass with every thrust, the sound of skin on skin now loud and obscene.

You clench around him, the whines of his name now accompanied with soft pants. Jay knows you’re getting close, and so without a second thought, he pulls his fingers away. Whimpers fall from your lips, tears coming to your eyes once more at the loss of contact.

“Jay,” you cry.

Jay coos at you, sucking his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean. He chuckles at you, almost mocking your state. “It’s okay, baby. Ion’ want you to cum too fast.”

You whine again, pushing your ass back in hopes he’ll give you something. Jay responds to your action with a smack, his hand rubbing the red skin as he presses a kiss to it. Jay cups himself through his boxers, palming his erection as he lets out a groan of relief. His cock is already hard and leaking precum, a wet patch on the front of his underwear signaling he can’t wait much longer.

He pulls his cock out, pumping himself as he stares at your position. Your hole clenches around nothing, oozing arousal. Jay screws his eyes shut, mouth hung open as he fucks himself with his hand. 

“Oh, fuck,” he hisses when he ceases his motions. Jay scoots closer to you, lining his tip with your hole. You whine at the sudden contact, pushing back against him in hopes of getting him inside you faster. Jay doesn’t think twice before spanking you again, this time not offering any comfort.

“Fuck, you guys are missing out,” he speaks to the camera, his smirk coming back. “Tip’s barely in and she’s already tight as fuck.” Jay pushes into you about two inches before settling. You’re tighter than ever. His chest rises and falls as he tries to steady his breathing, but fuck, you feel so good. It’s all overwhelming, even to him.

Jay settles his hands on your hips, snapping his hips forward as he buries another couple inches into you. You feel so full, and he’s still not even done. That’s what you love about your boyfriend’s dick - he’s so big that even half feels like you’re going to fucking die. He hardly ever uses his whole length, but when he does - it’s heaven.

You begin to rock back onto him, a silent signal that you’re ready for him to start. Jay clicks his tongue before letting out a sigh, “Patience, baby.”

You whine at his words, pouting against the sheets. Jay doesn’t wait long before giving you what you want, however. Quickly, he starts his thrusts. Rough and fast, not letting up. He brings your hips back to meet his thrusts, your whole body limp and pliable under his magnificent hands. 

You’re being fucked like a stupid doll. Back and forth, back and forth, it doesn’t stop. The smacks that ring out through the room as your ass bounces off his pelvis are loud, but it only eggs him on. Jay hit the spot that makes you see stars, and you cry out louder than you have tonight. 

Your hands find purchase in the sheets around you, desperately trying to anchor your body from the damn near abusing pace Jay has set. Soft breaths are punched out of you with every thrust; Jay’s own grunts and groans are raw and full of need. 

Jay slows his movements down when he fists a handful of your hair. He pulls on it and drags your body up; back flush against his chest as you’re pulled onto your knees. You stare at yourself on camera; nose red and raw, eye makeup smudged with tears, drool collecting around the corners of your mouth. Jay keeps his hold on your hair with one hand and grabs your breast with his other, manhandling the mound of flesh.

“Look at them,” he says to you. You nod at him, eyes remaining focused on his phone. “Tell ‘em how you feel.”

Your lips quiver as you try to find your words, but you simply can’t. Your eyes drift down to your pussy visible on the screen - split open on Jay’s cock and dripping in an insane manner. Jay notices, removing his hand from your chest and bringing it to your pussy. He spreads your lips open, showcasing your pretty pussy to his friends.

A possessive smile spreads across his face, “Her pussy looks so good split open like this, huh?” You moan at his touch and words, which just gives him the confidence to keep going. “She wouldn’t look nearly as good on any of you guys, though.”

His fingers find your clit, giving it slow, languid rubs while Jay leans towards your neck. His lips find your sweaty skin, latching on and leaving open mouthed kisses all over. His tongue darts out, licking up a bead of sweat as he enjoys the salty taste. 

“She only likes to fuck guys with big dicks, right, babe?”

You let out a laugh of disbelief that quickly morphs into a moan. 

“Answer me,” he whispers into your neck.

You nod, “Mhm.”

“Mhm? C’mon, be a big girl and use your words. I know they’re in there, somewhere.”

“Ye,” you’re interrupted by a moan, “yeah - yes.”

Jay smirks. He releases his grip on your hair, letting you crash down onto the mattress beneath him. Jay resumes his pace. His cock is splitting you open—you barely had time to adjust before he set the speed. 

His tip hits the right spot; the place that has your eyes rolling back and toes curling, the place that makes you see stars and has you reaching back to your boyfriend for comfort. Jay notices. Jay keeps fucking you like a stupid doll.

Harder.

Faster.

Messier.

Your ass meets his pelvis time and time again. Loud smacks bounce off the walls, the raw sound of skin on skin colliding is obvious to anyone who dares to hear what the two of you are doing. Jay loves it. Jay gets off on it. 

You feel his ego growing by the second; every clench of your pussy and twitch of his cock a signal that he’s coming close to letting go. You are too.

You feel the familiar feeling deep inside your gut. The heat is rising; your stomach is suddenly heavy and you’re way too aware of everything happening. You’re aware of every drag of Jay’s cock—aware of every vein caressing your gummy walls. 

Your moans increase in volume, Jay’s name spilling out of your lips. The entire scene looks and sounds like some kind of cheap porno performance, and you’d think so too if you weren’t actively living it.

“Fuck, baby,” Jay moans above you. His jaw is slack, eyes screwed shut. 

“J,” you can barely finish his name at the pace he’s fucking you. “Jay—I’m gonna,”

“Fuck, me too baby.”

Something inside you snaps at that moment. Immediately, your body goes slack, brain goes numb, vision gets foggy. You cum more intensely than you ever have. Your juices squirt out of you, arousal coating Jay’s cock and thighs and pelvis. He’s simply dripping with you—all for his friends to see on the other end.

Jay doesn’t stop when you cum - he keeps fucking you with that raw, brutal pace he’s had set for the night. A low groan comes from deep within Jay’s chest. He feels your walls clench around him from the overstimulation.

“Shit—you’re so hot. I’m gonna—fuck,”

Jay pulls out of you in one swift motion. He angles himself above your ass, shooting ropes of his milky cum all over your red ass cheeks. Jay continues to pump his cock, milking himself until he’s emptied his entire load onto you.

You sit there, cheek still pressed into the mattress with tears running down your face, panting and desperately trying to catch your breath. You feel Jay press himself against you as he grabs the camera from the windowsill. He flips it, showing your cum-covered ass off to his friends.

“Look at her,” he says, fingers collecting his cum. He briefly shows the wetness of his thighs, laughing as he coos at your fucked out state. Jay presses his palm to your back, pressuring you to lay flat down onto your stomach. You comply, simply because you don’t have enough strength in your entire body to resist your boyfriend. 

Jay hovers over you, camera shoved in your face as he shows you off to the audience. He brings his fingers to your lips, beckoning you to open them before he shoves his fingers into your mouth. You lap at them wildly, sucking the cum off his fingers until they’re clean.

Jay just laughs at you, “Yeah, show ‘em how needy you are for daddy’s cum.”

You moan around his fingers, eyes rolling back at his words. You pull off his fingers with a loud pop. Jay grabs your jaw, forcing you to face the camera. A cheeky smile spreads across your face; your tongue poking out with remnants of his cum before you pull it back into your mouth and swallow the rest of it.

You’re a mess—a beautiful fucking mess. Your hair’s all tousled and in your face, sticking to the damp skin adorned with tears and smudged mascara.

“Mm,” you moan, "tastes good, daddy. I wan’ more.”

Jay kisses the top of your head. “How was that, babygirl?”

You nod, nuzzling into Jay’s harsh grip on your jaw. “Good.”

“Don’t tell me—tell them.”

You open your hooded eyes wider, watching yourself on screen. “Sunghoon—it was really good,” you swallow your breaths for a moment, “you wanna join us next time?”

Jay lets out a low whistle, speaking up off camera, “You’re gonna leave Jake and Heeseung out?”

You laugh and bite your lip, “I didn’t say that. Jakey and Heeseung can join, jus’ thought Sunghoon would want to the most.”

Jay clicks the red button, ending the recording before he tosses his phone onto the comforter. He smoothes his hands over your body, a sudden sense of gentleness following his movements. You feel his weight leave the bed and you lay there, waiting for Jay to return.

When he does, he has a bottle of water and a wet washcloth. Jay doesn’t even let you attempt to move, just shushes you as he carefully wipes you down and finds your long-forgotten clothes on the floor. 

“Are you okay—for real?”

You nod and giggle at his sudden soft disposition, “Yes, Jay. I’m fine,” you reach out for your boyfriend, “c’mere.”

He accepts your spent invitation, settling directly on top of you as you huff out a dramatic breath and mumble something about him being heavy. Jay just mocks you, reaching for his phone. He spends some time on it, splitting the video into chunks small enough to send to his friends. Jay kisses your head and your cheek and anywhere else accessible to him; he simply refuses to leave you without affection.

Jay sends the clips to his groupchat, one by one until almost the whole encounter is in the hands of Jake, Sunghoon, and Heeseung. He tosses his phone onto the bed, settling on top of you while he continues peppering you with kisses.

Barely two minutes later, Jay’s phone buzzes—five, six, seven times. It keeps buzzing, but Jay just laughs into your hair.

“Sounds like they like it,” he mumbles into you, “I hope you weren’t lying about letting them join.”

Despite spending almost all of your formative years day dreaming what it would be like to be away from home, how the outside world would feel fresh and new and beautiful, you weren’t fully prepared for just how different it could possibly be.

It hadn’t been long now since you’d left, evident by Jake’s lip still cracking and bleeding every time he managed to smile too wide.

Still, he was managing far better than you and you were almost a little jealous considering his ability to socialize and adapt to your surroundings every new place you ended up in.

Taking now as a prime example as you observed your surroundings with a slight frown on your face. You were sat in an old diner with lights that made a low buzzing noise and windows fogged up by the cold that settled in with the night. Your hands were nervously playing with the paper from your straw, anxiously ripping it into smaller and smaller pieces so you had something to keep you occupied.

Jake was a few feet away, sat on a stool at the bar and leaning over it with a bright smile on his face, chatting animatedly with the older women behind the counter and shoving his finger against the map out in front of him every few seconds as he was trying to understand the directions she was helping him with.

You thought it was interesting how much he seemed to fit in out here.

The town you were currently in wasn’t far from where you’d grown up but it was almost triple in size, actual buildings and businesses just outside the diner and small crowds of people wandering around in suits and modern clothing. It felt like a new world and your head was hurting from the constant buzz of noise and movements.

All your life you’d longed for something interesting, for any moment to catch your attention long enough to help you forget where you were and now you finally had a steady stream of these distractions and you didn’t quite know what to do with them.

You looked back up towards Jake and saw him already watching you, a worried expression on his bruised face that slowly melted into a smile as he gave you an encouraging thumbs up.

Your lips curled up slightly and you gave him a small nod of approval back.

Despite your constant worrying and doubt about leaving home, or more literally running away from home, the one thing you hadn’t second thought was who you were doing it with.

Feeling an ice cold hand placed on your arm, you whipped your body around in defense and laid with your back pressed firmly against the mud, hands raised in preparation to fight off whoever had approached you in the field.

You dropped your hands with a cry when you saw it was just Jake standing over you, his eyes wide in fear and hands raised in surrender and an attempt to soothe your sudden panic. He relaxed at the sight of your relieved eyes but then immediately tensed up again when you started to sob.

You sat up to look at him closer, cupping his injured face in your shaking hands and frowning deeply.

He’d never seen you this vulnerable or lost and he felt a deep pit settle into his stomach at the way you shook your head in denial and cried looking at him. He wasn’t quite sure what the full extent of his injuries were but he imagined they couldn’t be pleasant judging by your extreme reaction.

“We have to go.” He was whispering and you kept shaking your head, looking at him in confusion and caressing his face with your cold thumbs.

“Go where Jake?” You said in bewilderment, looking around the area you were in and shrugging. “We have no where to go, and nothing with us.”

He was kneeling down into the mud so he could be closer to you, not minding the way it squished and soaked into, what was now, his only pair of jeans.

“You have me.” His voice was stern and sincere, needing you to trust and understand that what he was saying was the truth. It wasn’t safe to stay where you were and you’d have to take your chances elsewhere to avoid what was coming your way.

“They followed me out of the house.” He was continuing and although you had suspected as much, knowing there was no way he had talked himself out of that situation, your stomach still clenched in fear. “It’ll be worse when they find us.”

You weren’t sure how it could be worse considering the current state of him. Jake’s face was swollen and already starting to bruise, his lip busted with blood dripping down onto his sweater.

Despite a few days passing now and healing the most extreme of his injuries, you still cringed at the memory and your face pulled into a grimace as you looked back down at your hands.

“We get people like you in here all the time.” A sudden voice was snapping you out of your thoughts and your head shot up to see a boy around your age with an apron on his waist. He was standing next to your table and looking over at Jake, the same way you were.

“Excuse me?” Your tone was harsh and he glanced at you for a second before sliding into the booth across from you.

“Hey, relax. I didn’t mean anything bad.” His voice was hushed and casual, spiking irritation in you. You wondered if this is how all teenage boys spoke in the real world. “That’s my mom over there. We live above the diner.”

He lifted a hand over his shoulder to point at the woman Jake was talking to, who apparently was the owner on top of being a waitress. You looked back at the boy and your eyes went to his name tag.

“Bob?” You questioned him with a raised eyebrow and he let out a laugh at your deadpan expression.

“It’s actually Heeseung.” He explained and when you looked more confused he continued. “Bob’s sick so I’m filling in.”

You didn’t say anything after that, just humming in understanding and avoiding looking at him. You were mentally willing that Jake would hurry back so he could take over the social interaction.

“I really didn’t meant to offend you. I just meant that we see kids from the villages all the time.” He was speaking in a kinder tone now but you looked back up in surprise at his words.

“You can tell?” You whispered and leaned forward with your elbows on the table, looking around slightly in panic. It was already alarming enough to think you were radiating runaway vibes but it also didn’t help to think about all the kids before you that had ended up at this same place.

“Not really.” He rushed to assure and his big eyes widened in alarm at your sudden change of demeanor. “I just heard your boyfriend asking about the bus stop.”

You nodded at his explanation, relaxing slightly at his words but being a bit awkward at the label he had applied to Jake. He seemed to notice and his eyebrow quirked up.

“Not boyfriend then.” You couldn’t tell what his tone was implying but you furrowed your eyebrows into a glare and watched him carefully.

Thankfully Jake was finally heading over then, you could see him approaching from over Heeseung’s shoulder and he froze for a second when he realized you weren’t sitting alone anymore.

Heeseung was sat where he’d been sitting so he slid into the seat next to you, pressing close so your thighs and shoulders were touching each other. He didn’t look too worried at the sudden appearance of the boy despite your own hesitance.

“I’m Jake.” He greeted casually and he stuck his hand out across the table. Heeseung looked down at it for a second in surprise and you suddenly realized how aged the two of you might seem compared to normal teenagers. Still, the strange boy shook Jake’s hand happily and smiled across the table.

“Nice to meet you dude.” He grinned and looked over at you, making you realize you hadn’t offered your name to him at any point. You mumbled it and he nodded appreciatively.

“His mom, the owner, said they have a place for kids who leave the neighboring towns to stay overnight.” Jake was speaking in a calm tone from next to you and you glanced over at him with widened eyes.

Despite your annoyance with the boy across from you, it suddenly made sense why he had approached you in the first place.

“She told me all about the bus stops like we needed but I figured it’d be good to have somewhere to sleep for a few days that wasn’t a bench.” He looked nervous as he spoke like he was worried you’d scold him for making his own version of a plan.

Heeseung on the other hand looked awkward for other reasons, the mention of your homelessness saddening him.

“That sounds great Jake.” You smiled warmly at him, eyes tired as you placed a reassuring hand on his bouncing knee. “Thank you.”

“My mom lets people who stay with us work in the diner if they’d like.” Heeseung was talking again, more sheepish this time. “You don’t have to but she’ll pay you, then you’ll be able to travel easier.”

For the first time since leaving home you felt a small surge of hope as the two boys spoke and you almost welled up in tears at the kindness you were experiencing. You felt happy that other people like you and Jake had found this place and you felt sadness that some might not have.

You harbored these thoughts for the rest of the evening, even after Heeseung’s mom was done with her shift and flipping off the open sign on the diner window. She ushered the three of you into a back hallway with a warm smile and you followed in contemplative silence down it and up the staircase at the end, giving Jake small nods every time he glanced back to make sure you were okay.

The apartment wasn’t large but it was nice and home like, comfortable seatings in every corner and pots and pans sprawled about the kitchen like they’d left in a hurry after breakfast.

She showed you that the couch pulled into a springy bed for you and Jake to sleep on and you almost smiled at the slight blush that brought to his cheeks. She gave you a knowing glance and you faltered away from her gaze.

You were making the bed with the blankets she’d lent you, Jake and Heeseung off in his room after he excitedly exclaimed he had something to show Jake that he just couldn’t miss out on.

“Are you settling in okay?” Ms. Lee’s voice was startling you and you looked up at her from where she stood in the doorway, adorned in pajamas and a robe.

You briefly considered the fact you’d never once seen your own mother in such a casual state, although there was hundreds of obvious differences between the two.

Not fully trusting yourself to speak still, you nodded your head at her appreciatively and smoothed out the final blanket you had just laid down.

“Come here and I’ll make you some hot chocolate.” She was instructing kindly and you awkwardly followed her a few feet away into the connected kitchen, sitting down at the small table as she started to rummage through the cupboards. “I’m sure this must all be so overwhelming.”

“A bit.” You answered her after a few seconds of hesitation, your voice quiet and not quite sounding like yourself.

“You’ve made it this far.” She was continuing and you cocked your head at her although she wasn’t facing you and couldn’t see. She seemed to anticipate your reaction however and went on to explain. “Leaving is the hardest part.”

“When did you leave?”

She was turning around in surprise at your question but she didn’t look upset or offended that you had somehow managed to realize she also was from one of the villages. After her look of surprise faded away she gave you a small proud smile and sat at the table across from you.

“All these years I’ve been doing this and you’re the first person to figure me out.” She had a small teasing tone and you managed to smile at her.

“19 years ago I left.” She said it slowly like she was waiting for you to piece it together and you did immediately, parting your lips in surprise.

Your eyes shot to the fridge briefly, seeing photos of her and a small baby then more of the two of them as Heeseung continued to grow and she continued to age.

“I fell inlove,” She began hesitantly, like she hadn’t spoken it aloud before. “And then I found out I was pregnant. I could only hide it for so long of course and by the time they found out it was too late. But my father told me I would have the baby and then they’d give him away, we’d never tell anybody.”

You were nodding as she spoke, watching her as she stood up again at the sound of the water filter stopping and she began to pour your drinks while continuing her story.

“I said okay, of course. I was young and didn’t think there was anywhere to go but then I saw him.” She shrugged with a sad laugh and paused in her motions, taking a second to breathe. “I held him for three seconds before they took him away but that was all I needed.”

When she turned back towards you she gave you a smile and you returned it, graciously accepting the warm mug she was handing you as she sat back down.

She didn’t continue and you didn’t ask her any questions or pry for more specifics, details on how she managed to get out with Heeseung. You imagined that was where the story got ugly for most people, including yourself.

You thought back to the bruises on Jake’s face and body and you wondered what she thought when she saw him. Did it phase her or did most runaways come through looking how he did, or maybe even worse off. How many kids got to this point and then turned around, accepting the fate of returning home?

Echoes of Jake’s voice carried down the hallway, his laughter and teasing tone as he joked back and forth with Heeseung and you felt yourself tear up at how carefree and happy he sounded.

You weren’t sure he’d ever felt like that before but even worse, if he would again for a long time.

“You should go and check on him.” Ms. Lee was whispering and patting your hand, a knowing look on her face when you glanced up at her with wet eyes. You nodded and went to stand up before hesitating.

“Thank you.” You whispered back to her with full sincerity, voice cracking around the word and she didn’t reply verbally, giving you a smile and a nod.

Your heart was pounding as you walked down the hallway. There was only two doors at the end and one of them was open with bright lights pouring out so you assumed that was the one they were currently in. When you turned the corner into the doorway, you froze for a few seconds.

The boys were sat on Heeseung’s carpeted floor with something in between them, laughing so hard their breaths were catching in their throats and you watched Jake give him a playful shove on the shoulder at something the other boy was saying.

Heeseung’s room was basically a cluster of all sorts of games and media, things you didn’t recognize but you could imagine were well known considering the sheer amount of merchandise he had.

You could see colorful superhero’s and toy cars, a bookshelf overflowing with books and more little knick knacks. You thought back to your room, grey and barren other than the bible on your nightstand and your stomach turned.

Then Heeseung’s eyes were bouncing up towards you and he faltered as he noticed your sudden appearance. “Oh hey.”

Jake was looking over his shoulder in confusion and his smile dropped when he saw you, eyebrows furrowing in worry as he stood from the carpet and approached you in a hurry. His hands went to your crossed arms, holding you delicately and peering down at you.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered and you shook your head, confused when you realized you were crying.

You tried to tell him that it was nothing and reassure him he could go back to hanging out with Heeseung, who was cautiously watching the two of you, but your voice made no noise so you just parted your mouth in muted silence.

Jake was frowning and petting your hair gently. “Hey let’s finish up tomorrow.”

You felt guilty as you heard Heeseung agree and bid the two of you goodnight, only getting worse when Jake started to lead you down the hallway and back out into the living room with gentle hands.

Ms. Lee was already out of the kitchen and the mugs were cleaned up, small circles of left over hot chocolate residue being the only evidence of your talk.

Jake helped you into bed and pulled the covers over you before walking around to the other side and crawling in next to you. He tugged his sweater off, leaving him in a white t-shirt, and laid down on his side so he could face you.

“What happened?” He whispered and you let out a small sob, laying on your back so you didn’t have to look at him. “Y/N, what happened?”

“I don’t know.” You whispered and you genuinely meant it. You weren’t sure when or why you’d started to cry, before this week it was extremely rare you’d get to such a point of emotion. “How are you so good at this?”

He let out a soft laugh and you glanced at him finally, frowning at his gentle expression and shifting your body so you could be closer to him.

“Are you kidding? This is terrifying.” He was scooting forward with you, pressed against your side now and whispering next to your ear.

You smiled through your tears at his statement, rolling on your side so you could face him better. You cupped his face when you turned, thumb rubbing softly over his bruise cheek.

“Doesn’t hurt anymore.” He whispered and you nodded softly despite not fully believing him. You saw the way he tongued at the cut on his lip and winced every time he got dressed in the morning. You couldn’t believe somebody could ever want to hurt a person like Jake.

Even now as you leaned up to kiss him, you could hear the slight hiss of pain at the feeling of your lips pressed onto his. He ignored it and surged forward into you, happily accepting the pain that came along with being close to you again.

You hadn’t had any down time since leaving, sometimes holding hands while you waited at bus stops or pecking him goodnight before you curled into each other and slept close to remain warm.

But kissing him now felt different in the same ways it felt familiar and you leaned into him again desperately at the sudden comfort that washed over you. Despite the absolute mess of a week you were having and your entire life being flipped upside down, Jake was here and he understood exactly what you felt.

He’d come with you instead of taking his punishment and staying home. It wasn’t safe there but neither was what you were doing, living from place to place with no steady food source or warm bed to sleep in as the winter approached rapidly.

Yet he was still here with you and still doing things that were strange and confusing for him. Just like you, Jake had never had to work, never taken a bus or been in a city with more than 700 people. He was waking up each day and holding more conversations than he’d had his entire life and trying to figure out the safest option for the both of you.

You wanted him to understand you were beyond thankful for him and everything he was doing although you had a habit of falling short on words.

One of his hands went to your hair, keeping you pressed against him and you felt a small spark of satisfaction in your stomach at the reminder of who exactly you were kissing. Less than two weeks ago he hadn’t even been able to hold your hand and now he was frantically keeping you tugged against him.

Your hands went around his back and you bunched up his thin shirt in a tight fist, shuffling even closer to him as you took a deep breath and kept kissing.

He was sitting up just a bit so he could lean over you and you heard a soft whine escape his throat as he tried to deepen the kiss. You stopped and tapped him on his back which caused him to immediately pull away with a frown.

“We can’t baby.” You shook your head and his frown deepened. You felt his hand that was in your hair twitch like he was going to instinctively curl it up before remembering it’s placement.

“I can keep quiet.” His voice had taken a soft pleading tone and you felt him lowering himself again, although this time he was half way on top of your body. He leaned back in to kiss you and you accepted habitually.

This kiss was deep from the start, your heads turning and pulling each other in with a fever that only time could bring. You let yourself lick into his mouth just to hear his soft little gasp before pulling back again.

“Please.” He was whispering into your mouth before you could reject him again and your resolve faltered slightly.

You hummed as you considered your current situation and what he was asking. Heeseung and his mom were quite a bit away, all the way out of the living and kitchen and down the long hallway. But the apartment was still small and you were guest.

“What do you want baby?” You questioned him gently, touching his face again and he immediately was pushing against your hand and letting out a shaky breath.

“Please.” He didn’t say anything else for a second and you almost told him to word it clearly before you realized he was completely lowering himself now so you could feel him against you.

Your mouth parted in understanding at the hardness that was now pressed against your stomach and he flushed bright red, hiding his face in your neck in a familiar position. Your hand that was still on his back, gripping his shirt, rubbed it softly and he groaned in embarrassment.

For a moment you wanted to tease him, make him feel more humiliated for getting hard after barely kissing you. But then he was picking up his head with red cheeks and anticipation in his eyes and you couldn’t help yourself from leaning into him.

He made a small surprised noise at the sudden kiss but happily accepted it.

Your hand went under his shirt to continue rubbing his back and you were suddenly reminded how rare it was you actually felt each others skin. Not to mention you’d only ever seen him without pants, always remaining fully dressed.

He seemed to be having a similar line of thoughts because he was impatiently reaching down in an attempt to tug his shirt off, stopping when you swatted at his hands.

You didn’t want to be in too damning of a position in case Ms. Lee decided she needed a late night glass of water, and you were content with the feeling of his warm skin under your hand as you rubbed his back.

Jake let out a little whine however at your refusal and you licked into his mouth as an apology, knowing he liked that part of kissing the most.

This was evident by the way he immediately bucked against your hip, a soft gasp coming out of his mouth again as he started to hump against you slowly. You lifted your leg slightly so you could push his body over, centering him so he was grinding with you directly and not just your hip.

“You’re so cute.” You mumbled into the kiss when his whole body twitched at the switch of position, freezing for a moment at the feeling. “You’d let me have you right here, wouldn’t you?”

He was nodding quickly and pulling back to look at you more clearly, trying to determine if you were serious with hooded eyes and swollen lips. The smile on your face told him you were just teasing and he groaned.

“We can’t baby I’m sorry.” You were mock pouting at him and caressing his bruised cheek. “What if Heeseung heard?”

He froze at the mention of the other teenage boy and you were intrigued by his extreme reaction. You’d just been explaining casually but he seemed to have already considered this judging by the way he awkwardly avoided your gaze now.

At first you wondered if he was jealous at the idea of it, curious if he had a possessive side to him at all. But then you were shifting underneath him and you suddenly realized he was throbbing as he was pressed against you, his face flushed with embarrassment.

“Would you like that?” You whispered and he winced, still not looking at you. “You want him to hear?”

He didn’t say anything but you knew you were right, he was just too ashamed to admit. Maybe he wasn’t able to read your tone and was worried that was a line you didn’t want to cross, a bad thing to suggest.

You attempted to reassure him silently by rubbing his back again and shifted your hips so he would lower himself onto you once more, guiding him by doing that until he was finally moving again. He took a stuttered breath as he continued to grind against you.

“Would you let him touch me or just watch?” You were suddenly whispering and he looked flustered at the fact you were bringing it up again.

“N-no touching.” He sounded pained at the thought and you almost laughed, answering your previous question about possessiveness.

You hummed and kissed him again and he happily accepted. Your leg was coming up to wrap around his waist so he was pressing against you more and you almost let out a sound of your own at the feeling. For a moment you considered indulging his earlier request and letting him touch you.

“Only you can touch me right?” He was nodding and kissing against your mouth desperately as you spoke, making it difficult to get the words out. “But he can watch.”

He paused again to look at you, breathing hard as he kept rubbing himself against you and trying to hold in his noises. He glanced down the hallway towards Heeseung’s room and another wave of interest washed over you. You weren’t sure if it was being watched that he liked or specifically by his new friend.

“You like him?” You whispered in question, pushing his shirt up off his back and waiting for him to get the hint and pull it over his head. You wanted to sit back and look at him now that he was shirtless but you kept eye contact as you waited for him to answer.

He shrugged and blushed. “No, I don’t know. He called you pretty earlier and it made me think.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” You quirked up an eyebrow and he nodded immediately, eyes shooting down to your lips briefly.

“So pretty.” His voice was a whisper like he hadn’t even meant to say it and you smiled at him and the way he was looking around at all the features on your face. He had stopped moving against you to look at you but neither of you noticed. “I just wanted to like… I don’t know.”

“Show him that you got me?” You tried to finish his sentence since he obviously had no clue how to describe the thoughts he was having and he looked relieved as you put it into words, nodding his head and leaning back down so he could kiss you again.

The kiss was slower and more sweet, taking little breaks and drinking in being close to each other. Your hand on his back moving suddenly reminded you that he was shirtless and you paused.

He watched you in confusion when you pulled back from the kiss, tugging the blankets up slightly so you could get a better look at him on top of you.

You knew Jake was fit considering his wide build and legs, assuming his dad had put him to some type of labored work back at his village, but it didn’t make it any less surprising to see all of his chest and stomach bare and pressed against you.

“God you’re pretty too.” You groaned softly and he looked a little unnerved at you using that word, still adjusting to losing his faith. He quickly forgot about it as you spoke again. “I want you to fuck me so bad.”

A deep whine escaped his throat and he dropped his head into your neck again, biting against it to stop himself from crying out as he started to hump you again.

“Do you remember how wet I felt on your fingers?” You were panting as he rocked against you, throbbing in your sweatpants and desperately holding onto his back. “Want you to think about your cock inside me.”

He let out a soft cry into your ear and started to buck into you harder, you were clenching around nothing at the feeling of him, wishing so desperately you were alone so you could finally show him what it felt like to actually feel you.

“It’s so tight and warm Jake.” You kept whispering in his ear despite the fact it was riling him up too much, his noises getting far too loud for the quiet room you were in. “You won’t last two seconds, my poor baby.”

He was suddenly kissing you in an attempt to shut you up and simultaneously mute his own sounds, the thought of stopping because of an interruption making him feel sick to his stomach. He’d never needed you so desperately and your countless attempts to provoke him weren’t helping.

You were surprised at his sudden bold actions but accepted it happily, a small knowing smile on your lips and you kissed him back.

He kept fucking into you, so desperate for relief that he didn’t even realize you clawing against his back, the stinging of your nails hidden underneath the pure pleasure rushing through his veins. You were licking into his mouth desperately and he felt a surge of pride at the fact you were as needy as he always felt.

It wasn’t long after that before he was coming undone on top of you, biting onto your collarbone in an attempt to hold back his deep moans that were barely muffled against your hot skin.

He was collapsing on top of you and you nearly cried out at the sudden loss of contact, tapping his back desperately and waiting for him to pick his head back up and look at you in concern.

“Touch me.” You urged and he looked frightened and confused before nodding and waiting for you to guide him. You took his large hand in yours and pushed it down under the covers, gliding over your panting stomach and into your pants where he was met with your wet and aching core.

He gasped softly and looked at you with wide eyes, not quite understanding why you were suddenly on board with being touched. You realized quickly Jake didn’t understand what it meant for you to cum too, only just doing it for the first time for himself some weeks ago.

You rocked your hips against his hand and he shifted so he could access you more comfortably, laying on his side as he nervously pressed his hand firmly against you.

Humming in approval, you gripped his wrist and helped him move it properly, letting out small whines at the feeling of his thumb on your clit like it had been back in the field. Your free hand was touching him as he laid next to you, rubbing his stomach and chest and drinking in all the bare skin.

He was addicting to touch and be touched by and you wished again, for the dozenth time that night that you were in the position for him to take you fully.

“Put one inside me.” You were gasping out and he looked thrown off by the request, shaking his head softly and watching you in bewilderment. He wasn’t sure what you were exactly referring to but you shifted your hips and spread your legs a bit more so he could feel you and understand.

His mouth was parting in shock as his fingertip was now pressing against your hole and you waited for him to meet your gaze, nodding your head in confirmation.

He trusted you blindly and slowly pressed a finger into you, gasping softly at the feeling of it while you did the same. You always knew his hands were particularly large but you weren’t prepared for how heavy and thick they’d feel on you.

“Oh fuck.” You muttered out and he froze, waiting to see if it was a good exclamation or a negative one. The roll of your hips let him know which and he kept pressing into you, leaning forward so he could kiss you during.

“Be quiet.” He whispered against your lips and another flash of heat passed over you at the command. His voice was genuine when he said it but the slight change of his demeanor made you feel crazy.

You let yourself be slightly distracted by the kiss as he kept pressing his finger into you and moving it experimentally, trying not to panic at the loss of control you were experiencing. You needed to remind yourself that your plan to control and ruin Jake was long over and this was a mutual relationship now.

His free hand was going to your hip that was rocking and moving to try and get him to finger you deeper, holding it down against the bed and giving himself more time to touch you and explore the feeling.

“Spit.” You were whispering into his mouth and he pulled back slightly to look at you in confusion before remembering that day back in his bedroom. He was waiting for you to confirm and you nodded desperately, opening your mouth wide and sticking your tongue out for him to fully get the message.

He sat up a bit more, looking hesitant and awkward but he fulfilled your request and let himself spit into your open mouth. He watched with wide curious eyes as it hit your tongue and a low moan rumbled through your chest, leaning up to kiss him again.

Between the constant feverish kissing, him pressing against you so desperately, and now what was happening now, you knew you were close.

Before you could even manage to warn him, you were finishing around his hands and you vaguely heard him make a soft startled sound, freezing like he was worried he had hurt you somehow. You laughed at his concerned expression through your pants as you tried to catch your breath.

“Are you okay?” He was whispering and you laughed again, closing your eyes and nodding.

He laid down flat on his back next to you and you both fell into silence for a few minutes, falling back to reality. You briefly wondered what he was thinking about during the moments after you did something to this extent and you rolled onto your side so you could wrap an arm across his stomach.

“I should get dressed.” He murmured although he made no attempt at moving. His cheeks were red as he took in his half nudity.

“We need showers.” You scrunched up your nose and he smiled at the expression, only slightly relaxing at your joking tone. “Boys sleep shirtless.” You offered to him.

“Normal boys you mean.” He whispered back after a few seconds of silence and you frowned at him.

“You are normal Jake.” You shook your head and laid it against his chest. You didn’t fully believe your own words but you wanted him to at least hear it. “Anything different about us isn’t our fault.”

“Heeseung’s normal.” He was spitting and despite knowing his anger wasn’t directed towards you, you were still taken back by his tone. He seemed to realize and he sighed.

You felt guilty that you hadn’t realize how much it was bothering him to be around somebody his own age, something who lived a different life.

“Nobody’s normal Jake.” Your tone was stern but not scolding and you felt him take another deep breath. Your hand was resting on his side and taping the warm skin softly. “Everybody has their shit.”

He didn’t say anything after that and you let the conversation die, hoping some part of what you said had stuck with him. If you were going to stay here for a few days you didn’t want him overthinking the entire time and driving himself crazy with insecurities.

Eventually you felt his breathing slow underneath your cheek as he fell asleep. You nuzzled into his chest contently before quickly following his lead.

——

By the time you woke up, Jake was gone and the blankets were pulled up tight around you. You felt panicked for a few seconds, jolting upright with a gasp before your eyes landed on a surprised Heeseung who was stood in the kitchen.

He was frozen in his pajamas, fuzzy pants with a yellow bear printed all over them, holding a bowl of cereal. He had paused mid bite at your sudden movements and you groaned and rubbed your eyes.

“Where is he?” You murmured, voice groggy with sleep.

He didn’t ask for any clarification, automatically knowing who you were referencing. “He helped my mom open this morning.”

You nodded and didn’t say anything else, pulling Jake’s discarded sweater over your head and climbing out of bed. Heeseung continued to eat his cereal in the kitchen as you moved until he noticed you staring at the couch bed in confusion.

“I’ll put it away until tonight.” He assured and you glanced back at him. “Go on and head down.”

You wanted to thank him, maybe engage in conversation about Jake and find a way to let him know your concerns. Despite your lack of trust initially, you had a good feeling about Heeseung and his mom and you imagined he’d be willing to tone it down for Jake’s adjustment.

Instead of doing any of that, you only managed to hum in appreciate. He smiled at you knowingly and you shyed away from it, heading down the stairs swiftly.

When you made your way down into the diner you were greeted with a few people sat around the shop, one or two families filling up the tables and some singular men at the counter drinking coffee.

You stood in the doorway for a moment when you spotted Jake, watching him swiftly make his way around the area in a white apron. He was smiling at the kids eating as he delivered them a plate full of pancakes, refilling the parents mugs casually after. He looked natural doing something so foreign to him and you felt more pride than jealously this time.

Eventually he noticed you observing him and he gave you a soft smile, flushing bright red after a few seconds like he was remembering parts of last night.

You weren’t exactly sure what part he was more embarrassed by but you liked the pink tint to his face.

“Did you want to help him?” Heeseung’s mom was suddenly appearing behind you and you jumped at the sound of her voice, shooting out of the doorway and awkwardly letting her walk pass.

“Oh I.. I’m not sure.” You hesitantly shuffled in place and she glanced at you with a warm look that gave you a weird pit in your stomach.

“I could use some help in the kitchen.” She was putting away something underneath the counter as she spoke but you could tell she was being purposefully casual in her offer, not wanting you to think she was pitying you for your obvious lack of social skills.

Despite the initial urge to scowl at her, to explode with anger at the fact she was offering you something so gentle and kind, you managed to accept.

Three days passed like that, you helping out in the kitchen while Jake (and occasionally Heeseung when he got bored) tended to customers and the register.

At night you’d all eat together, drinking hot chocolate and you’d sit back and smile silently at the way the boys laughed and teased each other. Then you and Jake would tuck into bed and talk about your days, sleeping against his chest like you were two regular people living regular lives.

On the fourth day, you woke up and did the same routine but you knew it was different. The others seemed to notice it too and everybody was unusually silent, moving around each other like it was habit now but not laughing and talking anymore.

You went through the day with the silent knowledge that it would be your last with the Lee’s. They’d been beyond generous and you almost denied the amount Ms. Lee was offering you and Jake for the work you were doing.

You knew it was probably more than she’d pay an actual employee but she pushed it into your hand and cupped them in hers softly while you shook your head with watery eyes.

Heeseung was approaching you before the last shift ended and you tried not to focus in on his shaking hands and furrowed eyebrows. You set down the rag you were wiping the counter with and gave him your full attention.

“I’ve been through this enough times to know you guys are leaving.” He was starting in a low voice and you felt a weird turn in your stomach.

You hadn’t considered much how many connections he made throughout his life that didn’t last. You wondered at what age he started to realize that the people that stayed with them were never going to last, you felt a fondness building at the fact he was still so willing to bond with you and Jake despite this.

“I just wanted to let you know that if things don’t work out, or they get too hard out there, you can come back here.” His words were quiet but sincere. You knew Jake was listening in from a few feet away and you saw him hang his head out of the corner of your eye. “You can always come back here.”

“We will.” You were whispering back and he looked at you finally. “I promise we will.”

“And we will call you whenever we get to where we are going.” Jake was speaking suddenly but Heeseung didn’t look surprised at the fact he was listening, just nodding his head.

You were rounding the counter before you even processed your feet were moving, pulling Heeseung in by his shoulder and hugging him tightly. He accepted it immediately, letting out a shuttered breath and patting your back.

You didn’t want to cry so you pulled away quickly, letting Jake hug him as soon as you finished.

The day finished up quickly after that and before you even registered what was happening, you and Jake were stood at the bus stop with the Lee’s who offered you a ride last minute. You both had gifted backpacks on your shoulders and your body felt heavier than usual.

Ms. Lee was hugging you goodbye when she whispered in your ear softly. “The hardest parts over.”

You hesitated as you pulled away from her, giving her a close lipped smile and a nod, knowing if you spoke you’d burst into tears.

Neither of you said anything as you got on the bus, moving in silence as Jake took your bags and placed them in the cubby underneath your seats. He watched you as you sat down next to the window before taking his spot beside you. His hand was coming up to grab yours and you shakily took it, trying to ignore the fact Heeseung was standing outside on the platform as he watched you go.

“Are we doing the right thing?” You eventually whispered to him, a few hours into the drive. His head was laid on your shoulder and for a moment you were worried he had fallen asleep.

“I don’t know.” His answer was honest and you were glad, not in the mood for any false hope.

“I imagine we got lucky this time.” His voice was low and you felt his hand come up to rest on your knee. “But we are going to try our best.”

You hummed in agreement and put your hand on top of his, squeezing it affectionately and shifting so you could rest your head onto his. You were suddenly exhausted and coming to the realization that most of the other passengers were already asleep.

You briefly wondered where they were all heading to, if anybody was feeling as confused and lost as you were or if they knew exactly what to do once they got off the bus.

Most were probably heading home for the holidays, something you’d been trying to avoid thinking about ever since you left despite the cold weather serving as a constant reminder to what time of year it was.

Like always you waited for Jake to fall asleep first, listening for his breaths to shallow out and for his chest to slowly rise and fall. It was, for some reason, easier for you when he drifted off first. Maybe it gave you some time to think about things without the guilt of checking out of conversations or maybe it was just easier for you to focus when you knew he was safe and not going anywhere.

After you were sure he was asleep you slowly managed to follow him into a deep dreamless night.

By the time you woke up, it was still dark outside the bus windows but you could see it slowly lightening as the sun started to rise. People around you were shuffling off exhaustion in their seats and preparing to deboard.

You looked over at Jake to see him already awake, eyes puffy from sleep as he looked out the window with a melancholy expression. You were tapping his arm instinctively and he glanced at you, face widening into a soft smile at your tired expression.

“Only like ten more minutes he said.” His voice was low but you nodded at him, tugging your sleeves down and preparing to go back out into the cold.

Once you got off the bus you felt a bit disoriented. Your previous stop was bigger than home but definitely manageable, still considered a small town to most people in the world and home like. Now you were definitely branched out and this city was large and bustling like nothing you’d ever seen.

Because the cold bite to the weather, you and Jake had mutually agreed to put some of the money you earned into a long stay hotel.

You felt slightly sick handing over money to the woman behind the check in desk, only worsening when she gave you a curious expression and asked if you wanted one bed or two.

You didn’t look back at Jake as you mumbled to her you only needed one, holding onto the straps of your backpack awkwardly for the rest of the interaction and as you made your way down the hallway.

“Home sweet home.” You muttered with a sigh as you propped the door open, tossing your backpack over onto the chair in the corner and sitting on the bed with a bounce. It squeaked underneath you as you jumped slightly and Jake smiled at you.

“It’s not that bad.” He reasoned and you weren’t sure if he was serious or just trying to cheer you up.

You laid back onto the bed completely, crawling up so you could be against the pillows and sighing again as your back cracked uncomfortably from the bus ride. Jake was getting the memo and pulling the blinds closed, kicking off his shoes and joining you in the bed.

Your body was feeling slight resistance at the fact you were back in bed so early in the morning but you pushed your routined mind to quiet down as you tried to rest again.

“When we wake up I say we go for a celebratory dinner.” Jake’s tone was hushed but you could tell he was smiling.

You didn’t say anything but you laid flat on your back and scooted closer to him. He was laying on his side and watching you with a careful expression, like he was still cautious of your reactions sometimes.

Taking his hand softly, you wrapped it around your stomach so he could hold onto you and you nuzzled into his chest with your side. He looked pleasantly surprised at your sudden incline in affection and squeezed your side appreciatively.

“We have three weeks here before we need to pay any more. I think we can find work before then.” He was whispering now that you were pressed up against him, his chest vibrating your shoulder as he talked in a low tone.

“So we are staying here?” You hadn’t really considered settling down anywhere for some reason and the thought threw you.

It was like your mind was still thinking this was all temporary, that at the end of this trip you’d return back home and back to your miserable lives.

He was shrugging against you and you glanced at him, seeing his hesitant and awkward expression. You felt guilty that he was still so cautious around you and you wanted to tell him that’s not what you meant, you weren’t trying to scold him for his suggestion.

Instead, words always falling short for you, you leaned down to press him into a kiss.

He was taken back for a few seconds, not at all expecting you to move let alone touch him, but then he was immediately pushing back into you and accepting your sudden kiss. You kissed for a few dozen seconds, slow and innocent until he instinctively squeezed his hand that was around your side.

You pulled back to look at him and his eyes were shooting all around you face, breathing slightly hard as you watched him sink back into that familiar headspace.

“Take your shirt off.” It wasn’t worded as a question but you raised your eyebrow so he would understand he could say no, this was his chance to deny you.

Of course he didn’t, shooting up immediately and tugging his hoodie and shirt over his head. His fluffy hair was left a mess from his haste to remove them and you glanced down at his chest for a while before saying anything.

Then you were shifting slightly and following suit, pulling your sweater off and trying hard to not flush at the sudden widening of his eyes and mouth. He was looking at you intensely and then looking away like he wasn’t sure he was supposed to be seeing you shirtless. You almost laughed at him as his hands started to shake from their place on the bed.

“Kiss me.” You instructed and after a few seconds of bewildered hesitance he was following your orders.

Your hands went around his back, his warm skin under your palms getting goosebumps at the feeling of your icy hands. He wasn’t touching you at first, hesitating and hovering over parts of your body like he’d burn up if he touched any part of your skin.

Eventually he was resting them on your hips, touching your pant waistline instead of your shirtless top half and you almost scolded him before deciding against it.

You led his body so he’d lay back down with you, placing him on his back and crawling over him so your body was sprawled on his. He groaned slightly into your mouth as you pressed your weight down on top of him and it sent an ache to your core.

He’d stopped kissing you to try and process the feeling of your bare chest pressed tightly on his and you frowned slightly, kissing his parted lips and trying to get him focused back on you. Slowly but surely he was out of his trance and aggressively connecting your lips again, a hand coming up to your hair as he cupped the back of your head.

“Jake.” You gasped into his mouth and he tensed for a few seconds before humming in question. “Please touch me.”

He was pulling back in confusion, hesitance on his face when he glanced down at your bodies and tried to understand what part of yours you were referring to. You laughed softly at his expression and gestured to your exposed skin as an answer.

His pretty face was flushing bright red as he nodded with a suddenly determined look on his face, you found it cute he was seemingly preparing himself to touch you.

You kissed him again to try and keep his mind off of it for now, letting him push back into you and turn his head slightly so you could kiss deeper and deeper. Jake’s movements were quick and eager, desperate for you to keep going even when he wasn’t quite sure where you were planning to take things during times like this.

His blind trust in you felt good and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction at the knowledge he’d do anything you asked with little to no question.

His big warm hands were touching you finally now, spread against your back in a stiff position as he tried to get used to being with you like this. You could tell he wasn’t focusing on kissing anymore and just mindlessly following along as he started to rub your skin with a new found fascination.

“Quit being so cute.” You mumbled against his mouth and he breathed a laugh.

“Can’t help it.” He teased back and he was pleased when you chuckled softly, rarely laughing in general let alone at one of his jokes. “I could do this forever.”

His sudden confession stumped you and you tried to not visibly show the affect him saying that had on you, a soft blush rising to your cheeks. He didn’t even seem to register what he was saying, mindlessly speaking in a content tone as the two of you laid close together.

“Forevers a long time.” You whispered back eventually and you kissed him again briefly, shifting on top of him so he could breathe a little. He wasn’t complaining about your weight on him at all, liking the feeling of being underneath you.

“Not nearly long enough if you ask me.” He was blushing too now and you were sure the pair of you looked like any regular couple on vacation, in love with no responsibilities and naive to the world around you.

“Do you mean that?” A wave of insecurity hit you when you asked and he looked at you incredulously, like he couldn’t fathom why you wouldn’t believe him.

He was kissing your forehead in a manner far sweeter than what you were just doing, a hand leaving your back to brush your hair from your face gently and cup your cheek. It was strange being on the receiving end of movements you normally did to him, tensing slightly as he touched you. “Why wouldn’t I mean that?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged and mumbled although you certainly did have an idea of where your thought process was stemming from. You remembered who he was briefly, the knowledge you could tell him and he wouldn’t judge you or get upset resurfacing. “I’m the only one you’ve even been with.”

“So you think I picked you because you were there and taught me stuff?” He whispered in an understanding tone, trying to make sense of what you were implying without being accusatory.

You nodded hesitantly and he frowned, caressing your cheek. It was strange to be so vulnerable for you and you hoped he wasn’t too thrown off by your change of demeanor, feeling stupid suddenly for pausing your actions to bring this up.

He was kissing you again, quickly like he was trying to ground you back to reality and you met his gaze.

“I’d choose you no matter the circumstances.” He finally said and your eyes softened at his firm voice that left no room for question. “If we met 100 years from now I would have chose you.”

“That’s dramatic.” You smiled down at him and his thumb was wiping high up on your cheekbone, making you realize you’d been teary eyed. “What if you were married?”

He pretended to think for a few seconds, raising an eyebrow in contemplation before smiling and flipping you over so he was on top of you now. You were laughing as you turned, a big toothy grin on your face at his antics and he steadied himself over you.

“If I was married,” He started and you nodded in anticipation, biting your lip to stop from smiling at him. “Well I wouldn’t marry anybody but you.”

You groaned at his cop out answer and he leaned down to kiss your nose as it scrunched up. “That’s cheating, answer like you’re married.”

“Tell me what you’d do.” You rolled your eyes as he changed the subject onto you but you still genuinely thought it over, watching him with a careful expression.

He was still leaning over you with a smile on his face, his cheeks slightly red from blushing earlier or maybe the cold. His hair was flopping into his forehead and you briefly wondered if he’d ever worn his hair like this before you met, before you left home.

“I’d only marry you too.” You were whispering and his smile fell slightly as he looked at the serious expression on your face. Then it was coming back and he was attacking your face with his lips causing you to squeal and move around frantically underneath him.

After his attack he was kissing you normally and you took in a deep breath, wrapping your arms around his back and hugging him tight against you.

You kissed like that for a while longer, weirdly slow and sweet unlike every time previously and you felt slightly giddy at the innocence of just wanting to be close to each other despite being the most naked you’d ever been together.

“Let’s go get dinner.” You were saying into a kiss after a bit had passed and he nodded his head, kissing you one more time before sitting up and helping you do the same.

He didn’t look at you as you moved from under him and stood beside the bed, trying to find your discarded shirt that got lost somewhere in the covers. You watched him avoid your side of the room with a half smirk, wondering if he had looked at you at all this entire time.

The two of you finished getting dressed, wrapping your scarf tightly around Jake’s neck before you went, and found your way back outside.

The city was busy and you awkwardly joined into the flow of foot traffic, trying to look casual and not totally out yourself as lost tourist. Eventually you got the hang of the pacing and you locked your arm in Jake’s, keeping him pulled tight to you so you didn’t separate.

You made it a few blocks before you were stopping in front of a random restaurant and you glanced at Jake who had been uncharacteristically silent the entire time. He offered you a soft nod of approval and you squeezed his arm in reassurance, assuming he was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the complete change in atmosphere.

He didn’t say anything but he gave you a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and the two of you braved it into the restaurant.

He relaxed after you ordered and were able to eat, enjoying a meal and talking about your day and complaining about the travel time like you were regular people who had just gotten home for the holidays. You wondered if anybody sitting around you could overhear, if they’d be able to tell what you’d been through or piece together the bruises on Jake’s face.

After you ate you decided not to go back to the hotel just yet, exploring more of the city and stopping to enjoy views and sights you’d never seen before.

“There’s so many people.” Jake was remarking from the bench you were sitting on. It was on the outskirts of a small park that had a good view of the city and lots of other couples and families were sat around you enjoying the same thing.

“It’s kind of nice right? Nobody is paying any attention to us.” You were fidgeting with your scarf that he was wearing as you spoke and he nodded softly. “Maybe we can call Heeseung tonight.”

He glanced at you with excited eyes and you smiled affectionately at him, patting his cheek softly and avoiding the bruising.

You sat there for a while longer before the cold settled in even more as it got dark, so you stood slowly and pulled him up with you. The two of you made your way back to the hotel and you felt a lot more content than you had when you originally arrived, more familiar with the area and pacing now that you’d had time to explore and take it all in.

When you got back inside and took off your shoes and jackets, Jake was racing to the hotel phone and dialing in the Lee’s number.

He sat there holding his breath as it dialed and you watched him from the bed, knowing when his eyes widened and a bright smile broke out on his face that somebody had picked up on the other side.

You went and took a shower while they talked animatedly and by the time you came out they were still going, although when he caught sight of you draped in towels, Jake was thrusting the phone in your direction with a grin as he awkwardly avoiding looking at you.

“Hello?” You hesitantly spoke into the phone, something you weren’t quite used to considering the fact you didn’t really have anybody you needed to call back home, most people being less than a ten minute bike ride away from you at all times.

“Hey Y/N.” Heeseung’s low voice was cracking through the phone speaker and you smiled softly although he couldn’t see it. “I just wanted to see how you were doing, I didn’t expect you guys to actually call honestly.”

“Of course we’d call.” You shook your head and sat down on the bed next to Jake who tensed slightly because of your bare skin.

“Yeah that’s what Jake said.” He let out a breathy laugh and you could hear him fidgeting with something like he was nervous. “So um, my mom said that if you wanted and if the trip wasn’t too bad maybe you guys could come back here for Christmas?”

You didn’t say anything and the phone line went silent, the low buzzing of static being the only noise you could hear other than your heart beating quickly. He cleared his throat on the other side like he was worried you hadn’t heard him.

“Like,” Your voice cracked and you felt Jake’s hand on your knee. “Spend Christmas with you guys?”

“Well yeah but only if you want to and if you found a job by then my mom can help you look for housing in your price range, she’s really good at that, then you wouldn’t need to stay in hotel anymore. Not that there’s anything wrong with staying in a hotel, Jake said there might even be a pool which is super cool, but you know just so-“

“Heeseung.” You cut him off and he sucked in a deep breath, falling off into a mumble after he realized he had been rambling nonstop. “I think that’d be really great.”

You felt Jake sway against your side, leaning into you and you gave him a small smile, feeling a lot better now that you had a place to go for the holidays.

Heeseung and you talked for a few minutes longer, Jake listening in from beside you and occasionally adding his own comments as he tiredly rubbed his eyes and yawned a few times. You eventually said goodnight and the two of you promised you’d call again as soon as things were settled, hanging up the phone and crawling back into bed.

“Are you not going to get dressed?”

Jake was mumbling with a small blush on his face and you were shrugging, hearing the pillow crinkle under your movements.

“Do I need to get dressed?” You whispered back, raising an eyebrow in his direction and drinking in the way his eyes shot down to your towel and then back up to your face quickly like he hadn’t meant to do it.

He didn’t say anything but he was moving over towards you on the bed, climbing over you so he could hover there as he leaned down to kiss you urgently. You laughed against his lips at his sudden movements and you felt him poke your side because of your teasing.

It was easy to forget where you were in that moment, how uncertain things were and how much harder they’d get once this night was passed and you needed to start getting your life together on your own for the first time. You didn’t think about how far you were from home or the consequences of getting caught.

You laid there in bed, kissing a boy who had given up his faith for you and he warmed you even as the snow started to fall just outside the hotel window.

It wasn’t like you came out of the womb with horns and a little forked tail.

The nurses didn’t scream in terror and your mother didn’t faint at the sight of you, it wasn’t some grand discovery that anybody could see or anybody could plan for.

You made it through your formative years relatively normal, or at least as normal as you could be considering who your father was. But it wasn’t until middle school when you realized how different kids would treat you because of this.

Those were your favorite years you could remember. The half decade before anybody cared, or knew enough to care, what it meant for you to be who you were. Then you were old enough to have consciousness and design your own set of morals, something all the parents in your town dreaded.

Your town was barely that, more so a few neighborhoods sprawled across barren lands with more fields and trees than concrete and signs of the modern world that had seemingly developed everywhere, except for where you’d been born.

Sometimes you wondered if you’d been cursed to stay here forever. It seemed like everybody who was born here, died here, but unlike you they all seemed pretty content with this fact. Proud even, the elders stating the amount of years and generations they’d own their rusty old homes like it didn’t create a nasty pit in your stomach.

Time was frozen and the world had moved on, leaving all 2,000 of you behind to die and birth and die again until eventually the last generation killed themselves off in an act of sympathy, a mercy slaughter.

It was probably immoral to be thinking about your entire town dying whilst in church. But you didn’t think much about the implication of having sinful thoughts anywhere, regardless of how many crosses were currently burning stares into your back.

More than 70% of your life was spent inside these four walls, on this exact weathered seat on this same old pew.

See, when turned 12 years old and the kids at school made you aware of the fact your dad was the lead preacher at the only church in town, you figured this made you some sort of royalty.

Not once did you feel the overwhelming holy presence of god that everybody else seemed to be experiencing everyday after school and work when you all settled in together to listen to your fathers teachings.

You’d sit with a scowl on your face, turning around in the front row pew reserved for the preachers family and you’d observe the people around you. You knew everybody in your town, some more than others, but you always thought people looked different when they prayed.

The nice man who worked at the grocery store looked far more guilty and weathered with his eyes closed and the angry woman two blocks away who yelled at the kids riding their bikes too close to her sprinklers, looked peaceful like she was talking to an old friend.

Your mother would hiss under her breath in an attempt to catch your attention, sending soft pinches to your thighs until you’d begrudgingly turn back in your seat and plop down in your puffy dress, tuning out the sound of your fathers loud voice.

Looking back on it now, your mother seemed to notice the dark parts of you brewing before you even did. The two of you never saw eye to eye and despite the fact you were her only child, much to her dismay considering they tried for years after your birth to have another but to no avail, she never treated you with any sort of motherly warmth or kindness.

She’d glare at you from across the dinner table while her and your father conjoined hands and thanked the lord for the meal that your mother had cooked. You’d started to sit on your hands at dinner when you were 7 years old and what once was a cute misbehaving habit quickly became the warning sign of your future endeavors.

Still, part of being the preachers family was playing an act. So you’d all get up early in the mornings and wordlessly move around the house like the backstage of a play, dressing the part and giving bright smiles to each family that walked through the doorway on Sunday morning.

Your mother would stand behind you with a long stretched out smile, hands on your thin shoulders as she dug her nails down every time she felt you tense up at a greeting.

Then you were 16 and for the first time in your life, you heard her voice the thing you’d always assumed she believed. You stood in the hallway in your nightgown, standing stiff as a board to avoid the creaking wood of your old house, peering around a dimly lit corner to hear your parents conversation more clearly.

“She hasn’t done anything wrong Mary.” Your fathers rough low voice was flowing in your direction, sounding tired and agitated. You could vaguely hear the sounds of his rough hands rubbing over his unshaven scruff in frustration.

“She will.” Your mother sounded panicked and alert, desperate for him to understand her case. “I can’t explain it but she has this darkness in her, I’ve felt it ever since I was pregnant.”

Your breath caught in your throat as they spoke, understanding now they were referring to you. You were only slightly surprised, no grand feelings of fear or betrayal arising.

That nights conversation had ended with your mother in a fit of tears and your father uttering words of reassurance in an attempt to calm her down as you used the sounds of her loud sobs to sneak back to your room, getting under the covers and blowing out the candles by the time your father was opening your door to insure you were in bed.

He’d stood there for a few minutes, the door cracked with his hand on the knob. Do this day you wondered what he was waiting for. Maybe he was expecting you to talk in your sleep or he was trying to get some sense of the evil your mother was spewing about, but eventually you heard his tired sigh and the door shutting.

It’d been three years now since that conversation and you still hadn’t fully understood the evil your mother was referring to. You didn’t believe in god, that much had been clear to you from a very early age but you didn’t believe in the devil either.

You didn’t feel things maybe you should be feeling, sadness when an elder passed away unexpectedly or happiness when a new baby was born into the community. You didn’t feel pain when your mother shot you looks of disgust and you only felt slight jolts of satisfaction when she leapt in fear every time you entered a quiet room.

The seed of evil that was apparently inside of you never bloomed, no matter how much you waited for its arrival.

Until the day the Sim’s arrived to town.

It was extremely rare for somebody to move out of your hometown, and you’d been instructed to never speak about the families that left, to let yourself forget their names and faces. Forget any interaction you’d had with them now that they were gone.

But you’d never once contemplated the fact that it was possible to move here willingly. It hadn’t occurred to you that somebody would choose this place to live and that they’d be allowed to stay peacefully, and especially not given a grand welcome.

So you felt yourself uncharacteristically thrown off guard as you found yourself at church on a Saturday, typically your only day you weren’t required to be here. You’d spend these days down by the creek or riding around the abandoned section of town on your bike, trying to find something interesting to see.

As you stood near the stage, where your fathers podium was perfectly centered and polished, greeting the usual faces with a forced smile, your eyes landed on the most interesting sight you’d ever seen.

The Sim’s were a direct mirror of your family as they stood in front of you. Only three of them, a tall man giving your father a sturdy handshake and laughing like old friends and a small meek woman who was holding your mothers hand in both of hers, a thankful smile on her face.

Placed directly in front of you was a boy, seemingly your age, shifting back and forth on his feet as he waited for you to initiate any form of greeting.

There was people your age in town, your graduating class held 25 kids and over half of them were girls, daughters that were considered blessings for their special ability to continue on your towns population. You’d met boys, few handsome but handsome none the less but nobody who looked like the one standing in front of you.

He was taller than you, peering down at you from behind thin framed glasses and about double your width. You imagined you were hidden behind his shoulders to the view of the people stood in line behind him, waiting to greet your family.

His skin was tanned, something that you imagined wouldn’t last long considering you weren’t sure your town was blessed by the sun at all, almost constantly grey and dreary looking even in the peak of summer.

You took your time observing the boy, not feeling any sense of urgency at the knowledge people were watching and waiting, not even at the fact your mother was stood directly next to you and you could feel her stare on the side of your face. Her loss of attention seemed to make the boys mother nervous and she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“And this is our son, Jake.” She was chirping out and you almost wanted to laugh at how desperate she seemed to impress your family. The boy, Jake, was looking at you still for a second before his eyes shot to your mother and he gave her a nervous smile. “He’s shy at first but he’s a very good boy.”

His eyes flicked back over to yours as she spoke and your mouth quirked up in a small smile, finally sticking out your hand in offering to him.

You felt a strange feeling build up inside you, splattering against your ribs and painting your insides with something deep and powerful. As you held his hand in yours, your eyes caught onto your mothers and you could see the fear crossing over her expression at her own realization.

“Hi Jake.”

And the seed bloomed.

——

It wasn’t more than 30 seconds after your father finished his last word, the remains of it still echoing throughout the room underneath the chorus of ‘amen’s, that your mother was gripping your arm and dragging you back into his office space.

She closed the door swiftly and you yanked your arm out of her grip with a scowl, staring at her for an explanation about her sudden behavior despite having a slight inkling of what she was about to say to you.

“You can’t.” She spoke vaguely, an angry desperation in her voice like you were a feral dog with a hungry look in its eye.

“What are you talking about?” You lowered your agitation, doing your best impression of a confused and fearful daughter. She scoffed at your expression and held a hand to her mouth like she was genuinely amazed at your audacity.

“You leave that boy alone Y/N, or so help me God.” She was shaking her head at you and you felt a surge of annoyance at her tone, her voice shaky and weak.

You thought she was slightly pathetic. She’d spent her entire life treating you like the devil, implying your evil and avoiding you at all cost but the second you finally start to understand her concern and she’s immediately turned to pleading and bargaining. There was no fun in this for you.

Soft knocks against the door caught her attention and she looked over your shoulder, trying to ignore the fact you were still staring at her and not bothering to turn and face whoever had entered.

“Go home and get dinner started.” Your fathers voice was entering the room now in a hushed whisper, like somebody was still outside behind him. “We are going to have a welcome meal with the new residents.”

Your mothers eyes shot back in your direction at his words, like she was begging you to remember her previous warning and you offered her a small smirk before turning to face your father with a toothy grin, expression changing now.

“Of course father, whatever you need.”

——

You’d ignored your mothers glare the entire time you worked on dinner together, setting the table casually and changing into a less formal dress that gained a thumbs up of approval from your father.

When the Sim’s arrived, you greeted them similarly to how you did at church except your mother made sure to shake Jake’s hand for a prolonged amount of time so you couldn’t, only breaking apart when your father cleared his throat and ushered you all towards the polished dining room.

He took his seat at the head of the table and you briefly wondered what type of man Jake’s father was. He was larger than your dad, much larger and you noticed a hint of irritation in his face when he took a seat on the side. You imagined he sat similarly to your father at his own house and didn’t find great pleasure in the new arrangement.

There was three seats on each side and your mother had rushed to take a middle seat next to you, attempting to block anybody else from being seated beside you.

However your father cleared his throat subtly and sent the both of you a small glare, confused at the fact she hadn’t adorned her usual seat next to him. You were sure he realized it would be strange for her to sit a seat away from him, making them look distant or troubled.

She sent you a small angry look but shifted over a space so she was now sat in her usual place, leaning an empty chair between the two of you.

An empty chair that was soon taken by Jake, his mother sending him an encouraging smile and giving him a slight nudge in your direction. You remembered what she said about him being shy, not hiding the fact she was trying to create a friendship between the two of you.

His mothers face angered you more than your own. She was small and weak looking, constantly smiling with wide eyes like she was waiting to drop into a conversation at any time to force a connection, yet she rarely did throughout dinner. For the most part she stayed silent, nodding along obediently every time her husband spoke.

So you kept your attention on the boy for the most part, figuring the adults were too busy kissing eachothers ass’s to care about what the two silent teenagers were doing at the end of the table.

You knew he could feel the way you were watching him, sending you small glances out of the side of his eye and shifting uncomfortably in his seat every time he realized you were still looking.

He really was handsome you were deciding. You’d never really paid attention to boys before, understanding the difference between being attractive and not but it didn’t have any affect on you. You liked the slope of his nose and the way his throat bobbed with every nervous gulp he took.

Your father was seemingly noticing your mutual disinterest in the conversation, you watching Jake and him watching his empty plate. “Y/N honey, why don’t you take Jake to your room and show him some of your notes on our latest teachings.”

Both of your heads turned towards him as he said this, your eyes lighting up with excitement and Jake’s widening slightly.

“Oh..” His mother was starting and you resisted the urge to glare in her direction. “Jake isn’t… he’s never..”

Jake’s father sent her a sharp look and she snapped her mouth shut immediately, looking away from him. Your excitement only doubled as you realized she wasn’t comfortable leaving her son alone with a girl, leading you to believe he never had been before.

“Of course father.” You smiled at him softly, standing and flattening out your dress in a prudish manner. Jake glanced in your direction as you stood, clumsily rising out of his own chair as you headed up the stairs and down the hall to your room.

He followed wordlessly behind, still not speaking even when you stood in the doorway and let him awkwardly squeeze past you so he was stood stiffly in the center of your room. You closed the door behind you and he froze, eyes widening again.

“What are you doing?” His voice was high with worry and you realized it was your first time hearing him speak.

“What are you talking about?” You played dumb as you observed him, walking backwards until your legs hit your bed and you could sit carefully. He stayed standing as he watched you with confusion and worry.

“Mother says not to close doors.” He was shaking his head and it looked like he wanted to go and open it himself. He didn’t move however and you leaned back to rest on your hand, cocking your head in his direction.

“Do you always do what mommy says?” You questioned.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly at your condescending tone. You’d seemed nice enough at church and dinner, not speaking much but polite to your parents whenever you did. He was suddenly worried he had angered you.

“I guess she did say you were a good boy.” You quoted what his mother had said when she introduced him, voice carrying a faint mocking tone as you spoke.

He didn’t say anything after you said that, just standing there looking at you like you were some form of animal he’d never seen before. And maybe he hadn’t you were beginning to think, his speech was structured and tight like he was reciting lines and you were curious if he’d ever had a conversation with somebody his own age.

Your hand reached over to pat the bed next to you, raising an eyebrow at him and urging him to sit.

He watched you with that same look for a few seconds before looking back at the door like he was contemplating how fast he’d have to bolt out of it before you could sink your claws into him. He seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it, crossing the room and sitting down as far away from you as he could possibly get.

“Where’d you come from?” You didn’t plan to say that but the curiosity was driving you crazy, not quite understanding how he could be so sheltered.

“A village not far from here.” He was eventually answering with a soft shrug. He was sat perfectly straight on your bed, posture making him look even taller than he already was considering you were still leaned back on your palm.

You should’ve figured he was from a village, suddenly understanding why his mother was practically a house wife from the 1800’s and his dad looked relatively similar to a lumberjack.

“No girls at your village?” You were watching the side of his face as you questioned him, growing slightly agitated that he wasn’t looking at you. “Jake.”

He turned his face towards you when you addressed him, eyes widening like he was worried you were going to scold him from the sound of your stern call.

“I asked you a question.” When he didn’t immediately answer you assumed he hadn’t heard you, repeating yourself. “Was there no girls where you’re from?”

He was shaking his head swiftly, looking at his hands and then back towards you. “None like..”

“None like me?” You interrupted him as he started to trail off and your lips quirked into a smile. “So no pretty girls then.”

He frowned as you hummed and nodded your head like you’d made sense of what he was trying to say. He didn’t look like even he understood what the things you were saying meant and you almost pitied him as you slowly unlocked the full extent of his naivety.

“You’ve probably never even held hands with a girl right?” You kept your tone sweet despite your intentions.

He looked like he only slightly relaxed at your change of tone, glancing at you as he shook his head as a way to answer your question. He didn’t understand why you wanted to know this.

You were sitting back up straight, off your hands, and leaning sideways to get closer to him. He watched you with panicked eyes as you reached down near his lap and took his hand in yours, similarly to how you shook it at the church but the tension in the room was a direct opposite.

He made a strange noise when you touched him, a semi squeak at the suddenness of your contact and you smiled at him, scooting closer so you weren’t awkwardly stretching your arm in his direction.

“How does it feel?” You murmured, fighting the urge to lean against him and whisper in his ear. You didn’t want to scare him off just yet.

“I don’t think I should be in here.” He was shaking his head as he spoke and staring down at your conjoined hands or maybe the floor past them. They were resting in his lap, the back of your hand on his right thigh.

You frowned softly although he wasn’t looking at you, trying to keep up with your act. He seemed to be more pliant earlier when he thought he had upset you. “Jake.”

He glanced at you as you said his name, just like he had before, and his gaze looked guilty when he noticed the frown on your face. You squeezed his hand to try to bring his attention back to the fact you were touching him but he shook his head again.

“I really need to go Y/N.” He was still trying to sound polite despite his obvious discomfort and you almost smiled at the innocence of that.

“You don’t want me to touch you?” You let a small whine sink into your tone, really trying to drive home the idea that he was upsetting you and you felt him squeeze your hand absentmindedly.

He didn’t reply after you said that and the room fell into a strange silence. Then he was sending a heavy glance in your direction and your mouth parted in realization, understanding his inner monologue by the thick amount of guilt in his expression.

“You do want me to touch you.” You let your smile show now, not finding any reason to hide it now that he clearly took your bait. He squeezed his eyes shut as you said this and shook his head again, his hair messy now and falling into his face.

“What’s wrong Jake?” You were almost cooing at him, your hand sliding out of his and up his wrist, in result the back of your hand going further up his thigh. You kneaded at his wrist bone and he grunted at the almost painful sensation. “It’s just skin.”

He looked at you with a frustrated expression, holding eye contact for a few seconds much to your surprise. You were almost worried he was going to cry. You didn’t mind it personally, if anything you were thinking about how pretty he’d look with watery eyes and a red nose, but you imagined it would cause some level of concern with the parents.

So you released your grip on his wrist, taking your hand back and placing it on your own lap. You were still sitting far too close to him but he visibly relaxed at the lack of touch, however slightly confused why you had backed off.

Almost like the world had been paused for the entirety of your conversation and now played again, a soft knock on your door caused you to leap away from him and grab the bible your father insisted was kept on your nightstand at all times.

You were relieved to see his face when the door opened, knowing your mother would have most likely immediately sniff out what you’d been doing. Or at least attempting to do.

Your father looked between the two of you and the large space, nodding in approval when you flashed him a smile and opened to a random page in the book. He didn’t seem to notice how tense Jake was or the fact your door had been closed in the first place.

“Your parents are leaving Jake. You can stay a bit longer if you two are having fun.” Your father was saying in a welcoming voice but Jake was hopping off your bed before he even had a chance to finish.

“No, sir. Thank you but I really should get home and finish unpacking.” He was stumbling over his words and awkwardly shifting in place, waiting for your dad to move out of the doorway so he could make his escape.

Your dad shot you a confused look over Jake’s shoulder and you gave him a small shrug, fighting the urge to smile.

——

Guilt was eating Jake alive the entire ride home. He wasn’t quite sure what he had necessarily done wrong, what level of sin he had just committed, but his mother kept shooting him disappointed looks in the mirror.

“Will you stop looking at the boy like that.” His fathers gruff voice was mumbling from the drivers seat and his mom snapped her eyes back to the front window obediently. “It’ll be good for him to make a friend.”

“What type of girl leads a boy to her bedroom?” He was surprised his mother had spoken again, especially in the harsh tone she was using. She must’ve been angry enough at you and your behavior to forget the fear she held for Jake’s father.

He felt a bit strange as she said that. You were definitely weird and had made Jake feel something he’d never experienced, and he positively wanted to leave your room as quick as possible but he didn’t think you deserved such a mean comment.

He continued to feel strange for the rest of the night.

Jake laid in bed, hours past his usual bed time, and replayed your interaction in his head. Every time he got to the part where you grabbed his wrist in your tight hold, he squeezed his eyes shut and asked god to forgive him.

He could feel his stomach light up when he thought about your hand on his pants and he wanted to dig his nails into the skin as a self punishment for the thoughts brewing in his head, thoughts he had never had before and didn’t understand.

Rolling over in his bed, stomach to the mattress, he stuffed his face into his pillow and cried softly until he eventually fell asleep.

——

You felt giddy in the church pew the next morning after seeing Jake walk in with his parents. You immediately knew your plan had worked judging by his puffy face and swollen eyes. He’d clearly gotten no sleep and you could take a strong guess at the reason why.

A sick part of you was ecstatic at the fact you had something to do, something that actually managed to catch your interest.

If all it took to keep Jake up all night was you touching his hand, than you were preparing for more fun than you originally thought.

The morning had gone routinely as you remained in your seat for the entire sermon, not spinning around to try to catch a look at the boy despite the urge constantly in the back of your mind. You didn’t focus for a second but you did a solid job pretending until you heard a hushed voice behind you excusing themself.

You snuck a glance back to see Jake passing through his pew with muttered apologies and thanks to the people he was passing, smiling softly at them.

You watched him exit the pew and make his way down the main aisle, no doubt heading towards the bathroom hall since it was the only other part of the building outside of your fathers head office. You let him disappear from your sight and counted to 30 before abruptly standing and following his path before your mother could grab your hand in denial.

By the time you made it to the hall, Jake was exiting the bathroom with damp hands and a few wet strands of hair like he had splashed his face in an attempt to wake up.

His eyes widened when he saw you approaching and he glanced behind him like he was considering disappearing back into the bathroom so you couldn’t say anything to him. You smiled at this but didn’t move closer to him, leaning against the wall.

“What are you doing?” He watched you with careful eyes, not quite sure what you wanted.

You shrugged and furrowed your eyebrows. “What are you doing? You look tired, did you not get any sleep?”

He didn’t say anything as he looked at you, eyes heavy and guilty again like he was afraid you could read his mind. Unlucky for him, you didn’t have to read his mind to know what was happening in it.

“Were you thinking about me?” You pushed forward on his suspicions when he didn’t respond to you, tilting your head as you looked at him.

He didn’t respond again, letting out a small tired exhale before leaning against the wall opposite of you. The hallway was tensioned despite not being close enough to touch even if you stretched your arm out.

“I was thinking about you.” You suddenly confessed in an attempt to catch his interest or potentially get him to lower his walls enough for a solid conversation. It seemed to work considering his head was snapping up and he was looking at you with wide questioning eyes. “Is thinking a sin?”

He watched you for a few seconds, slightly embarrassed that you had somehow realized what his inner dilemma lead back to.

“Yes.” He answered matter of factly and you let out a small laugh.

You observed the way his lips awkwardly quirked up, like he was pleased he made you laugh despite being dead serious in his answer. His smile pulled at his cheeks for a second and you liked the way he nervously wiped his sweaty hands on his pants.

“What… what were you thinking about?” He squeezed the words out like they were painful after a silence fell between the two of you. You felt a bud of satisfaction at the fact he’d been curious enough to ask.

“Touching you.” You shrugged like it was a casual thing to say, watching his shoulders tense and his mouth part slightly in shock and disapproval.

“My hand?” You were a bit surprised that he asked a follow up question, voice dropping into a scared whisper like he was worried somebody was eavesdropping, maybe he was worried god could hear him.

You were watching him for a few uncomfortable beats, liking the way his cheeks turned red and he kept looking away from your gaze anxiously. Then you were shaking your head to answer his question, taking a step closer to his side of the hall.

His breath hitched as you kept taking small strides in his direction, taking your time with a loose smile on your face like you were out for a casual walk. You stopped next to him, turning and pressing your back against the wall he was leaned on so your shoulders were pressing together.

You wondered if he was planning to hold his breath the entire time you were touching him this time around, his face reddening even though your skin was separated by multiple pieces of thick fabric.

“Would you let me touch you again?” You leaned over slightly so you were closer to his ear, your chin hovering over his shoulder.

“You can’t.” He was immediately denying your request, stiff and agitated sounding. His voice was tight as he spoke like he was having to force the words out. “Please don’t do this.”

“Because you’re a good boy right?” You were even closer now, your lips touching the shell of his ear and he was shuddering against you, a frustrated whine in his throat.

He sent a sharp glare in your direction, at least as sharp as his features could get. You thought he looked cute when he was mad at you, eyes brows furrowed and his glasses sliding to the tip of his nose. Despite the way he was looking at you, he made no attempt to push you away or step apart himself.

“I want you to come to my house after church.” You whispered to him and he didn’t say anything, for once not shaking his head and just looking at you as you spoke your cruel demands. “I’ll tell my dad to talk to your parents about helping you catch up on his teachings.”

He looked amazed at your audacity, to not only lie to your parents but to lie about the lord and the Bible made his stomach turn in disgust.

Still, he almost couldn’t help but to lean his shoulder closer to yours and watch you with wide eyes and a parted mouth. He felt almost transfixed by you and your newness, the unique energy you gave off that made his head spin. He nodded his head slowly and watched you smile.

——

You’d waited for your mother to leave the house, a very rare occurrence for her outside of her weekly bingo nights at the recreational center in town, before you poked your head into your fathers office to request he calls the Sim’s.

You felt strangely jittery as you waited for them to send Jake over. Surprisingly, the Sim’s hadn’t moved into a house that far from you and you imagined he could probably ride a bike to your house in less than twenty minutes if the weather ever allowed it, rainy days an almost constant feature around this time of year.

It was only around half an hour before you heard knocks on the front door, followed by the low tone of your fathers voice and eventually the creaking of the steps as somebody made their way up to your bedroom.

Jake seemed thrown off when he saw you, dressed in far more casual clothes than he’d seen you in so far. He also looked momentarily relieved at the fact your door was wide open and you didn’t make any move to shut it as he crossed into the threshold of your room.

“Hi.” He politely addressed you with a slight bow and wave, avoiding looking at you fully where you sat on the bed. You gave him an incredulous look and sighed before patting the spot next to you.

He looked like he was dreading this but expecting it, only taking a few seconds of hesitation before he was shuffling over and sitting slowly down on your soft bed. You immediately scooted closer to him and grabbed his hand in yours.

His reaction wasn’t as intense as last time although he did immediately stiffen and his eyes snapped wide open, but he didn’t let out a small shriek at the feeling of your touch like he did yesterday.

“Are you going to let me touch you today?” You kept your voice low and he was suddenly very aware of the fact your door was completely open and your father was just a few feet away downstairs.

He slowly looked over at you, peering up from behind his long eyelashes and you wanted to grab his face with your nails. He looked like a puppy who had just done something naughty, big eyes unmoving from nerves as they darted around your face so he could avoid holding your strong gaze.

“This isn’t right.” He whispered back, eyes pleading as they finally locked onto yours. You almost felt sorry for him as he spoke, obviously so desperate to set you back on the right path in life. “Mother said I shouldn’t lay a hand on anybody, not even myself.”

You almost smiled as he said this, pleased at the new information he was unknowingly providing you with.

“It’s just skin.” You were reminding him again, slowly leaning against him so your chest was pressed against the side of his arm. His breath hitched at this and he glanced down at your upper body for a second. “You’ve never touched yourself?”

He shook his head immediately, face annoyed like he was offended you’d even suggest he would do such a thing. You liked that even though he was uncomfortable and denying his thoughts towards you, he still wasn’t seemingly capable of pushing you away. He’d still shown up to your house.

“I touch myself.” You were leaning forward more so you could talk into his ear again. A soft whimper left his throat when your lips grazed his skin again but he didn’t say anything, like he was waiting for you to continue. “On this bed, I touch myself every night.”

It was a slight exaggeration. You hadn’t really felt a strong need to touch yourself ever, never having a subject of attraction that left you longing enough that you’d roll around in bed late at night thinking about it, squeezing your thighs together in frustration.

But you were transfixed by the way he immediately tensed again, glancing back behind you towards where your pillows were and then immediately shooting forward and falling to the cross hanging on the wall in front of you both.

“It’s just skin.” You repeated to him again and he sucked in a shaky breath as you said it, bringing his guilty pained eyes back to you. You almost cooed at him, clicking your tongue and holding his chin softly. He leaned into the touch like he wasn’t meaning to and you wondered how touch starved he must be.

Your hand that wasn’t holding his face fell down to his lap, laying flat and still on his thigh as you let him process what you were doing.

He stiffened again and let out a low troubled groan, shaking his head again at himself. You wondered what he was thinking right now, if he was convinced he was heading straight for hell because of his thoughts alone so maybe it didn’t matter if he let you touch him. Or maybe he was seconds away from bolting downstairs and telling your father about what you’d been attempting to do.

“This isn’t right.” He was whispering and still trying to shake his head the best he could with your grip on his face. His repetition was starting to bug you, suddenly feeling impatient as he still hadn’t taken the bait fully.

“But it feels so good.” You purred into his ear, turning his head back to look at the cross and scooting closer so you were pressed tightly against his side. The sensation of this mixed with your hand on his leg was overwhelming and he felt slightly suffocated. “I want to show you Jake, let me show you how good it feels.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds and you considered letting him go, wanting to have him completely might mean waiting some time so you didn’t scare him off.

Then he was surprising you and looking back in your direction, your hand falling to his collarbones instead so he could decide what to do with his head. He gave you a soft nod, looking like he immediately regretted it when you wasted no time, pushing your hand forward onto the center of his pants.

He immediately lurched forward with a loud groan at the feeling of your hand on him and you shushed him softly, using the hand on his face to bring him back up to a sitting position and pet his face lovingly.

“You have to be quiet Jake.” You whispered in his ear and nodded towards your open door. He looked at you with a desperate glance, like he was pleading for you to close it despite his upset at that yesterday. You shook your head softly. “Can you be a good boy Jake?”

You started to slowly knead your hand against him, wanting to smile at the fact he was already hard before you had touched him. Light teasing and your soft hand on his thigh already had him bothered.

He was making small noises and you kept his face turned in your direction with your hold back on his jaw. You were sitting up straighter than him so he was a bit below you, having to look up through his eyelashes as he surprisingly held eye contact with you.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” You murmured excitedly, eyes wild and eager. He didn’t reply verbally, another small whine slipping from his throat and you pressed down hard on his cock through his pants. “I asked a question.”

Now he was nodding desperately, hands reaching out to grip your wrist in an attempt to lessen the pressure you were applying to him. “Good- feels good.”

His voice was strained and raspy like it was crawling its way out of his throat and you smiled with sick satisfaction, leaning forward so you were closer to his face. Your nose pressed against his and you thought about kissing him for just a few seconds, eventually deciding against it.

Jake was writhing on the bed now, desperately moving into your hand with small groans and whines, his hips lifting off the blanket in an attempt to chase your touch every time you removed it. He didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it, a dazed expression on his face.

He seemed out of it until your hand was leaving his face and sliding down his sweater covered chest. He didn’t seem to realize you were doing it until your hand was pressing on his stomach slightly, fidgeting with the singular button on his jeans and tugging on the zipper impatiently.

“No, no.” He was whining, grabbing your wrist to stop you from snaking your hand down his pants, touching him without any layers between. “You can’t do that.”

“Why?” You asked incredulously, leaning forward so you were hovering over him slightly. He leaned back on his hand a bit to avoid bumping into your face and you were a few inches from laying on top of him. “I promise it’ll feel so good Jake.”

The usage of his name made him wince, realizing he liked it far too much when you said it. He’d never really considered his name before, completely indifferent to it until he heard the way it rolled off your snake like tongue.

“You aren’t supposed to do that.” He practically spat the words at you but his tone lacked any anger instead sounding fearful and pained. “You can’t touch me there, you just can’t.”

You felt slightly sorry for him as he hiccuped, his voice breaking around the words as you watched tears collect in his pretty eyelashes. His eyes kept darting to the cross on the wall with a guilty expression.

You took your hands off of his lap, listening to his sigh of longing at the loss of contact. You weren’t quite sure what to do in this situation despite seeing it coming, eventually opting for sitting up further on the bed and pulling him into your neck, wrapping your arms around his shaking body in a hug.

He leaned into it and hesitantly wrapped himself around you, tucking his face into your warm neck and letting out a few sobs, tugging you forward slightly by your lower back.

You let him cry for a while, hushing him softly every few minutes just in case, although you were in a less compromising position now, you still didn’t think your father would be thrilled to find you half in the lap of a sniffling boy who was still hard against you.

“Jake.” You were eventually murmuring into his hair once his hiccups subsided slightly, he nuzzled into your neck further at the sound of your soft tone. “What if I didn’t use my hands?”

He picked his head up at this and furrowed his eyebrows at you, his eyes puffy and red with wet streaks still going down his face.

“I don’t understand.” He looked more puppy like than normal as he said this in a soft breathy voice, voice hoarse from crying and his lip almost jutting out into a confused frown.

“Can I show you?” You kept your voice soft as you spoke to him and he immediately nodded his head. He clearly had found some sort of comfort in your embrace, a connection being made enough for him to fall into this state of vulnerability, willingly to accept what you were wanting to give him now.

You felt a sick rush of adrenaline at his lowered walls, the sudden dumb eagerness in his eyes as he seemed to seek out any sign of contact from you.

You imagined it was a flood of emotions, a confusion and tiring feeling to suddenly be presented with a situation that went against everything your life had been carefully crafted around. Not to mention how addicting it must feel to suddenly learn what was on the other side and how good it felt, having unbothered access to it as the two of you sat huddled on your bed.

Kissing his cheek softly, you slowly slid off the bed onto the floor, suddenly thankful you had a thick rug on your bed side. He watched you in confusion, looking like he wanted to grab you and help you up before you shot him a stern look.

Your hands were back on his jeans now that you were fully situated and he looked like he wanted to object for just a second before lifting his hips off the bed so you could pull them down to pool around his ankles.

You took just a second to admire him, his pretty tanned skin overwhelming you a bit in its sheer amount. His legs were surprisingly thick, muscular like an athlete and you briefly remembered you didn’t know much about him at all.

That didn’t bother you at all, if anything it made you want him more when you looked up at him to see his nervous eyes staring down at you in concern. He looked humiliated and you imagined it had something to do with the fact he was still extremely hard, even after crying for so long.

If he was more stable in his emotions, less flighty, you would’ve made fun of him. You would’ve called him names and made him cry all over again and then taken his innocence without a second thought.

Instead you carried on the kindness act, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against his length through his underwear.

He immediately hissed and shot forward, not realizing what you were planning to do and not understanding why you were doing this. He started to stammer out in confusion and you shushed him again, sending a sharp glare towards the open door in warning.

“What are you doing?” He sounded absolutely blown away now, even more than he did earlier and it settled in your mind that he clearly had absolute no sexual knowledge, including blowjobs. “That’s dirty, you can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You were mock frowning up at him. “Did mommy say so?”

He knew you were making fun of him but he still nodded in response, not liking the sudden return of your mean tone. He forgot all about it when you were leaning forward again, this time touching your lips to him longer and sucking softly through the fabric.

“Mommy’s not here.” You were breathing out when you pulled away from him again, much to his dismay considering he immediately lifted his hips back in your direction. “And doesn’t it feel nice?”

He was nodding his head dumbly in agreement, feeling dizzy from the foreign emotions. He still didn’t understand what you were doing but it felt too good to keep questioning, forgetting momentarily about sin and how much punishment was going to come his way after this.

You were sliding your hands up his thighs slowly, stopping at the waistband of his boxers and glancing up at him for any sign of refusal. You didn’t care much for his discomfort but you weren’t going to force him to do anything, despite how much fun you were having with him.

He didn’t make any move to stop you, not even seeming to notice or understand what you were planning to do until you pulled on the elastic swiftly.

Then he was shooting back up from where he’d been leaning back, shaking his head again and covering himself with his hands. You smiled at him from your place on the floor and he looked at you like you were crazy.

You were getting slightly frustrated despite your pleased expression, wanting him to quickly understand what you were planning on doing. You gripped his wrist tightly and pulled them away from his lap

“What are you doing?” He was whispering in a panicked tone, his hands hovering above your head like he was debating pulling you away from him. He let out a yelp when you leaned forward and took the head of his cock into your mouth, watching him with hooded eyes. “T-that’s dirty, stop it.”

You wanted to laugh at his wording choices, sounding like he was a worried mother scolding their child for playing in mud.

“It’s dirty?” You frowned at him when you pulled back for a moment, his wide eyes falling on your wet lips. They squeezed shut just for a moment when you were licking up his full length slowly, humming at the taste of him and his weight on your tongue. “I should probably stop then right?”

He let out a panicked cry and ran a hand over his face in frustration. He wanted you to stop or at least he knew he should want you to stop. His mother had been right and you were not a nice girl, not the type of girl he should be around and he felt his stomach turn at the knowledge he was committing a very large sin by finding pleasure in your lust.

But the pleasure was prominent and overwhelming him to the point he couldn’t think straight.

He understood what sex was and his father had taught him about boyish lust, the kind that wakes you up from your sleep needing to change into a new pair of pajamas but he’d been warned from an early age to simply ignore the occurring urge.

He could still hear his mothers shrieks and cries when she caught him with a pillow between his legs in high school, could feel the welts on the back of his hands from the ruler his father had punished him with. Jake sometimes wondered if other people experienced this urge, this call to sin, as much as he did or if he was rotten inside.

But for the first time in his entire life, Jake couldn’t find it in himself to think about the consequences to falling victim to it. Not when you were touching him in ways not even his dreams could think to imagine.

When he didn’t answer you’d taken him back in your mouth, slightly impressed by how thick he was. He bucked forward his hips instinctively, pushing himself deeper into your mouth and you pinched his thigh roughly in warning.

You heard him cry out in a sob, his hands gripping the blankets so hard they were turning white and shaking at an almost alarming rate.

“Please.” He was begging and you weren’t sure he even knew what for, his voice coming out desperate and needy. “Please i-it feels really weird.”

You hummed around his cock in understanding, your hand petting his thigh and pushing his shirt up on his stomach so you could feel more of him. He didn’t even seem to register you touching him, the sounds of his soft cries and pleads distracting you slightly.

You tapped his hip bone a few times and he seemed to somehow understand the message, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth at a slower pace this time. You let him do what he wanted despite the urge to take control of the situation, knowing there wasn’t any chance he was lasting more than 30 seconds anyways.

He was slightly surprising you already, truthfully you’d expected him to cum before you even got his boxers off his thighs.

You imagined his inner monologue was causing him some issue as you listened to him cry softly from pleasure, little overwhelmed gasps and hiccups as one of his hands grabbed onto the one you were running across his stomach and squeezed it tightly.

“You need to just let it go baby.” You were whispering to him as you pulled off for a second when his hips started to twitch awkwardly, overwhelmed and not understanding what the feeling building up deep in his gut was. “Don’t worry about making a mess.”

The second you took him back in your lips he was following your instructions with a loud moan, completely forgetting you were meant to keep quiet as he came inside your warm mouth.

You winced slightly at the unexpectedness of it, leaning backwards on your knees as you waited for his hips to stop jerking forward.

He was shaking his head at you, eyes teary and his face red as he squinted his eyes in confusion. “What w-was -“

“You came.” You said matter of factly, standing up with a groan from your uncomfortable kneeling position and sitting next to him on the bed again. He leaned sideways into you, much to your surprise, and you resisted the urge to push him off you.

“Was I supposed to?” He whispered in embarrassment and pushed his face into your neck again. You were slightly uncomfortable at his clinginess but you let him do it, knowing he must be feeling a lot.

“Yes Jake. Maybe not all over my face though.” You were trying to joke with him to lighten the atmosphere but you sighed as you heard him let out a little cry into your neck, clearly upset and humiliated.

He was mumbling against your skin, repeated mantras that you couldn’t quite understood through his sobs but had a good guess in what they contained. You imagined reality was coming back to him now and he was processing what he’d just done without the hazy cloud of need cursing his judgement.

“Jake, you need to stop crying.” You were sighing and bringing your hand up to his hair, petting it softly to try to calm him down.

“Did I do a bad thing?” He pulled off your neck to look you in the eyes, his wide and desperate like he was fishing for any bit of reassurance that what you’d just done was okay, that he hadn’t just committed a sin so unholy. You could tell by his expression he was asking just to hear it reaffirmed, for you to tell him again it was just skin.

“My poor baby.” You were cooing at him, lips jutted out in a pout as your hands came up to hold his face, cupping it softly and wiping his teary cheeks with your thumbs. “Of course you did a bad thing.”

He froze completely in your hold and you felt a laugh bubble into your throat, holding it down with all your might so you could get the full extent of his reaction. He sat up slightly, attempting to pull out of your hands before realizing you were holding his face too tight. He gave you a confused and hurt look.

“What?” He was stammering out and his face was curling back into another sob.

“How could you let me do that?” You were tsking at him as you spoke, eyebrows furrowed like he had genuinely offended you. He watched you as panic settled into his eyes at the sound of you kissing your teeth and shaking your head softly. “We were supposed to be studying.”

“B-but.” He was shaking his head and holding onto your wrist, eyes filling with tears. “But you said that..”

He trailed off and you watched him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for him to pass the blame off onto you. Of course he didn’t, his expression hardening although you knew he hadn’t quite realized your motive. He was too innocent to believe you’d deceive him, too stupid to understand every action you did was a carefully crafted lie.

“Maybe it’s time you go Jakey.” You were nodding as you spoke, petting his hair and pushing it back out of his eyes.

He didn’t say anything else, his expression dazed out as he came out of such a vulnerable compliant headspace with a jolt. You watched him in silence as he gathered himself enough to get dressed awkwardly and walk out of your room, loose and tilting like he had just woken up.

You waited for him to be completely out of sight, the sound of the front door closing, before falling back on your bed with a big smile.

——

You’d fallen asleep soon after that without much thought on the situation, feeling only a deep satisfaction at the progress you’d made with Jake and a slight tinge of excitement for the next time you got to see him.

By the time you’d woken up, your mother was already in your room and standing staring down at you. You barely reacted to her presence although you were slightly unnerved and curious just how long she’d been watching you sleep.

“Can I help you?” Your voice was groggy as you sat up and pushed your bedridden hair out of your face.

Any other mother might have found your tired movements cute, maybe they’d give you an endeared smile and reminisce on when you were a baby waking up from naps.

However you were born with a very specific type of mother, maybe one of her kind. She was watching you with a nasty scowl, a knowing look in her eye as she did a slow pan around your room. “Your father said the boy was here yesterday.”

You hummed in agreement, tilting your head softly to try and get a further reaction from her.

“His mother called and said he won’t be at church this morning.” She spat the words at you, accusatory and nasty. “He’s sick.”

You could tell by the way she said that she knew it was a lie, wether Jake was the one telling it or his mother. At first you were slightly shocked he’d lie about being sick but you figured he might just be feeling so, driven by the extreme emotions he’d been feeling.

“What a shame. He seemed more than fine yesterday.” You put in a pity filled voice, shaking your head as you let the innuendo sink in for her, watching the way her face curled with disgust.

“Almost ready?” You father was suddenly in your doorway, observing the scene with a raised eyebrow as he buttoned the cuff of his sleeve.

“Father, would it be okay if I stopped by the Sim’s before heading to service? I’d like to bring Jake some soup for his cold.” Your voice was dripping with sweetness and you vaguely saw your mothers jaw tick with irritation.

“I can do it.” She was rushing to say.

Your father shook his head immediately and held a hand up to silence the both of you from speaking again. He finished buttoning his sleeve and cleared his throat before speaking. “You agreed to meet with the Lee’s today Mary. I think it’d be a good idea for Y/N to go, since they’re friends.”

You smiled appreciatively at him and he gave you a small nod before leaving the room. You glanced at your mother to see her stony expression but surprisingly she didn’t say anything, simply shaking her head in disapproval and following behind him.

It was strange to not leave for church with them, to stand in the window with the curtain pulled back as you smiled and waved watching the car drive off.

You dropped the grin the second they turned the street corner and hurried out the door to get on your bike and head over to the Sim’s house.

You hadn’t been there before despite your father pointing it out on your way home yesterday but it looked pretty much the exact same as the other houses in the neighborhood. It was large and eerie, the rainy atmosphere not helping it.

The door was opening before you could even dismount your bike let alone knock and you saw Jake’s mom standing in the archway with a small frown.

“What are you doing here?” Her tone was harsh and for a second you wondered if he had told her about what happened, confessed his sins in a fit of guilt.

You were so thrown off that you didn’t immediately respond, suddenly aware of the fact you didn’t bring any sort of soup or medicine like you had originally planned, too eager to get out the door to remember your cover story.

Lucky for you, Jake’s father was coming into sight now and a small grunt from him sent the rude woman cowering away.

You observed this with a curious expression and tried not to frown. Maybe Jake wasn’t as innocent and pure as he seemed considering he apparently had some familial issues, obvious in the way his mother showed a fearful obedience to the large man in front of you.

“You here for my boy?” His voice was low and gruff and it was a bit remarkable how different Jake was than his father.

You opted for a small nod, only slightly playing a part considering he actually did a good job at intimidating you. He let out a hum of approval and stepped aside so you could enter the house, not asking anymore questions.

“It’s good you two get along.” You were taking in the main living space as you entered, his voice picking up a conversational tone that sounded slightly unnatural. “I was beginning to think he’d never talk to someone his own age, let alone a girl.”

He had a typical mannish tone, one you’d heard in movies or from the gross men who sat outside the town bar in a drunken haze as they catcalled and talked at a volume far too loud for your small town. It lacked the usual religious hold you were more used to, he almost sounded pleased at the idea of his son being with a girl.

You glanced at him and held his stare. You wondered for a second if he was testing you now, waiting for you to reveal any sinful intentions you had so he could run back to your father and earn some brownie points for catching your sickness in the act.

He raised an eyebrow at you as you cocked your head, willing him to talk further and continue in his attempt at baiting you.

“Upstairs on the right.” He eventually said, your stare unrelenting. You unfroze your stony expression and gave him a small smile, knowing you probably looked crazy with how fast your face changed.

You were walking away from him before he could say anything else or before Jake’s mother could return, skipping a step at a time in your haste to get upstairs.

Without knocking, you pushed open his door and barged in.

He was sat up in bed, lower half under the covers, and he let out a small shriek of surprise at your sudden intrusion, furthered by a quick inhale when he realized who it was that had just walked in.

“W-what are you doing here?” He was rushing out as he watched you close the door behind you and sit down on the end of his bed.

“I came to check on you.” You said it like it was obvious, a soft shrug of your shoulders. “Since you’re sick.”

His mouth parted in confusion for a second before he seemingly remembered he was meant to be ill, looking awkward and guilty at the reminder he had lied.

You didn’t address his obvious reaction, telling you what you already assumed, and instead climbed up further on his bed. He made a strange noise when you got closer to him, pulling back the blankets and getting underneath them with him. You briefly caught sight of his plaid pajama pants before you covered the both of you up.

“M-my parents.” He was shaking his head and anxiously looking at the door like he was waiting for his mom to walk in any second. You watched his distress, wondering if he was possibly hoping for that to happen, before you heard the sound of the front door slamming.

A look of fear passed over his face at the realization his parents had just left him alone with you. You were a bit surprised yourself but you kept your face neutral, watching him to drink up his reaction.

“I came all this way and you can’t even say thank you.” You tsked and relaxed against his pillows with an annoyed expression. “Especially after what you did yesterday.”

He looked upset at the reminder and he was sitting up more now, the blanket pulling forward around his thighs and he practically kneeled and titled forward in your direction. He wasn’t touching you but his hands were clasped together as he practically did a full bow on his bed.

“I’m so sorry.” He started to say the words but his voice broke around them and he rocked slightly back and forth. You almost laughed at the fact he was already about to cry and it’d only been about five minutes alone with you. “Thank you for coming.”

You imagined he’d been doing a lot of crying since you saw him last, staying up all night running your words on loop in his mind. The sincerity in your voice when you told him he committed a disgusting sin.

“Get back under the covers.” You spoke in a calm voice and he picked his head up to look at you in confusion, face red and eyes teary. He looked surprised you weren’t scolding him, having seemingly forgotten you were the one who practically forced him to let you touch him.

He stayed frozen like that for a few seconds before snapping back to reality and nodding appreciatively, getting back under the blankets and pulling them up again so you were covered. He seemed to only now realize you were laying back against the pillows and he mirrored you, laying on his side so he could face you.

“I won’t tell anybody what you did.” You whispered to him now that his attention was fully on you. Your hand came up to hold his face and he tensed for a second at the contact. “Or maybe I will… I haven’t decided.”

He shook his head hastily, scooting closer to your body and grabbing ahold of your hand that was on his face, wrapping both of his around your wrist and squeezing it softly in desperation.

“Y-you can’t.” He urged and you felt his hands shaking around yours. “I mean you can b-but I’m really so sorry and my dad, he’d kill me.”

You shushed him as he started to ramble, petting his cheek and frowning deeply at what he had said. You figured Jake’s dad hurt his mother but you hadn’t considered it extending to his child as well. A strange surge of anger ran through you despite your own twisted intentions.

Scooting down a bit more so you were completely laid down, you put a hand on his back and pulled him towards you until he got the hint and curled into your side with a soft cry. He was stuffing his face back into your neck like he did yesterday and you rubbed his back softly.

You vaguely acknowledged the fact he was completely pressed against your side now, almost laying half on top of you in his emotional state.

“I won’t tell.” You whispered, his soft and messy hair tickling your face as you spoke. In his desperation for comfort he seemed to forget about not touching you, his arm coming up to wrap around your stomach, tugging you closer in a rush of thankfulness and your eyebrows raised in surprise. “But only if you answer my questions.”

He nodded immediately and picked his head up off your neck so he could look at you more clearly. He looked particularly cute like this you decided, his hair unstyled and still sticking up from where he’d slept on it and his soft pajamas that were rubbing against your legs.

“Did you touch yourself last night.” You held his chin as you spoke so he was looking up at you, his head almost resting against your chest as he peered with big wet eyes.

He was shaking his head as much as he could and furrowing his eyebrows like he did the last time you asked him. “I don’t- I wouldn’t. I don’t know how even.”

This fascinated you slightly. You figured he didn’t understand masturbating or its purpose outside of it being sinful but the fact he’d never once curiously touched himself was interesting. You wondered how many nights he laid in bed crying with confusion at the dull ache between his legs.

“Did you like being in my mouth?” Your voice dropped lower for the second question and an automatic whine slipped out from his lips, his face immediately flushing with embarrassment as he seemed to replay the memory.

He was nodding hesitantly much to your annoyance, you wanted to hear him say it but you figured you could take it easy on him today.

Maybe easy wasn’t the best way to describe your current plan for him considering the way you were suddenly pressing your thigh in between his legs, smiling at him when he groaned loudly and tightened his grip on you.

Your side burned slightly from the force in which he curled his hands up at the sudden contact.

“You’re hard.” You said matter of factly, telling the truth and not just teasing him. He was solid against your thigh now and you heard him whimper when you shifted slightly so his tight grip on you was more comfortable. “I barely said anything and you’re hard.”

He shook his head in disagreement but his hips twitched forward, rubbing his erection against you and making a low drawn out sound at the feeling.

“Did I say you could do that?” Your tone was harsh again and he immediately froze, groaning softly and tucking his head forward onto your chest. You let your hand go back to this hair, petting him for a second before gripping it tightly and tugging his head back up to look at you.

He winced at the pain, face contorted as he tried to scoot away from you. However he still didn’t remove his arm from around your stomach so he wasn’t able to go far, his hand still kneading against your side like he didn’t realize he was even moving it.

“Ask me.” You instructed him, still holding his hair in a tight fist. “Clear words, no crying bullshit.”

He looked momentarily taken back by you swearing and being so harsh but then he had a look of guilt like he was remembering the other day and he was attempting to nod in head in agreement.

“Please I want… I want you to touch me.” He settled on, not sure how to word what he needed. You smiled softly at him for his attempt but you weren’t convinced, deciding on helping him ask you properly.

“Tell me you’re disgusting.” You whispered, leaning your face forward so your nose was touching his again, like it did momentarily yesterday. “Say you want to hump my leg like a dog.”

He looked confused and overwhelmed at your words, shaking his head in refusal until you moved your leg again. It rubbed against him and you almost laughed at the fact he was almost harder now even after your tone changed. His hips chased the feeling and you tugged his hair again in warning, listening to his soft groan of frustration.

“I want..” He hiccuped softly and shook his head, trying to force the strange words from his mouth. “I want to hump your leg please please.”

You let go of his hair and his head fell back down onto your chest. He hadn’t completely fulfilled your request but it was good enough for now.

“Alright baby.” You didn’t need to say anything else for him to understand, immediately pulling you closer again and rocking against your side.

You listened to his soft little whines as he humped against you desperately, moving in messy motions as he tried to chase after the feeling he recognized from yesterday.

The feeling of his hand gripping your side was making your head spin a bit much to your irritation and you gripped it tightly, moving it off your waist. He seemed to misunderstand and instead placed it directly over your belly button where your sweater had ridden up, pushing down softly as he rubbed the soft skin of your stomach.

You let out a small groan and this seemed to ignite something in him because he let out a little cry and nuzzled further into you as he dragged his clothed cock over your hip harder.

“Tell me it feels good.” You instructed him and you felt more annoyance at the fact your voice came out breathy, not liking the effect he was having on you.

“S-so good.” He immediately responded and you felt his leg wrap around yours, trying to get closer to you despite it being impossible. “Going to die it’s good, it’s good.”

You laughed softly at his dramatic wording and pet his hair again, trying to get his attention. He slowed down the grinding of his hips to look at you and you nearly cooed at his hooded wet eyes, trying to focus on your face but struggling.

You were originally planning on teasing him some more, attempting to get him to repeat the words you wanted to hear earlier, but at the sight of his pretty overwhelmed face you couldn’t help yourself from leaning in and kissing him softly.

He yelped at the feeling, tensing up for a few seconds before closing his eyes and trying to kiss you back, failing miserably.

You laughed against his lips and you could feel him frowning, face getting red with embarrassment as he uncomfortably shifted against you.

“Come here.” You tapped his back softly and nudged him so he was fully on top of you, squishing you under him but making it so you could reach his mouth better. “Rub your cock on me while we kiss.”

He whined softly, nodding his head despite the flush on his face and you waited while he slowly experimented with the new position, practically in missionary now. When he started to move his hips again, his hard cock was now rubbing directly against your core and he faltered at the feeling, nearly collapsing on top of you.

You smiled at his reaction. You had full doubt that he knew what sex was or the fact he was basically imitating it but you imagine he could get the gist that what you were doing was wrong.

You leaned your head forward to kiss him again, easier now that he was on top of you and seemingly more eager to get it right this time. He was still sloppy, not really understanding how to move his mouth or when but you took over, moving your lips against his slowly.

He seemed to get the hang of it eventually and you could feel his thrust getting more desperate as the kiss got deeper and faster.

Your tongue was in his mouth before he even realized and he made a small startled sound, hips stopping against yours at the new feeling. He was letting out high pitched whines and moans as you licked into his mouth, him drooling slightly and desperately trying to keep your tongue where it was.

You could feel him sucking on it, twisting his head to try to get it deeper in his mouth and he instinctively gave a particularly hard thrust, causing you to moan into him.

This seemed to startle him, pulling back off your face with a wet chin and hooded eyes, looking down at you in amazement.

He did it again experimentally and you could feel the hard print of his cock directly against you, your back arching as your hand came up to grip his hair and stop him from doing it again. You were reminding yourself this wasn’t about your pleasure, you wanted to ruin him and nothing else.

But you couldn’t deny your attraction to him, almost the perfect boy for you if there was to ever be one.

It didn’t help he happened to have an impressive size on him, although you doubted he even realized he was bigger than usual or would know what to do if given that information.

You wrapped a leg around his side and he sucked in a breath, having better access now. He kept rolling his hips sloppily into you and moaning loudly, forgetting who he was or where he was currently at.

“What would mommy think if she saw you like this?” You took it upon yourself to remind him, whispering into his mouth with a pant and almost laughing at the way he immediately tensed and stopped humping against you. “If she walked it to see her son so desperate to sin.”

He was shaking his head and lifting it slightly to be able to look at you better, eyes welling up with tears as he glanced back over his shoulder at the closed door. You hadn’t been there long and you imagined church still had a few hours before it’d be over and they’d be heading back but he seemed to forget all this at the mention of his parents.

“I’m not.” His hair was messy in his face, bangs slightly damp from sweating and his previous tears. “I don’t want to sin, I don’t want to be bad. Please.”

You hummed softly at him, lips forming a mocking pout as you looked at him with gentle eyes. You stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes, leaning against your hand like a puppy.

“My poor baby.” You cooed and kissed him again briefly, he immediately chased after it when you pulled away and you tapped your finger on his cheek to stop him. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you.”

He seemed confused at what you meant but too drunk on the feeling of your touch and lips, chasing after them again in a messy kiss that was mostly just him trying to get his tongue back against yours.

You indulged him and let him lick into it, letting out soft desperate moans and you were suddenly realizing how much you were aching for him despite managing to keep a cool demeanor on the outside.

You shifted your leg that was wrapped around his middle and he seemed to remember that he was currently on top of you and he went back to writhing against your body, his hard on rubbing against you an almost painful amount now that you were granting him more access with the switched position.

He wasn’t able to hold himself up, curling up on your chest while he moved his lower body with sobs of pain and need.

“God, I thought it’d take longer to break you.” You were trying to make fun of him but your voice broke in a moan at the feeling of him pushing himself against your sensitive clit. “You’re so fucking nasty, look at yourself.”

He was shaking his head and crying fully now, chasing after a high he didn’t even understand and you were almost feeling dizzy from the pace he was going.

“I’m good.” He was blabbering out and looking at you again, trying to lean forward for a kiss but letting out a sharp cry midway and falling back down with his head on your chest.

“You’re a good boy Jake.” You cooed at him, nodding even though he couldn’t see you and he felt sick at the constant changing of your tones. “My good boy right?”

He was suddenly sitting up again, pulling himself against you so he could look at you directly in the eye, if he could see through his tears. He was nodding his head in earnest and you felt your lip quirk up in a smile.

“I’m yours. I want to be yours.” He was rushing out, hands leaving your stomach to balance on either side of you. His tone was pleading and you wondered if he even knew what he was asking for or if he was just repeating what you’d said dumbly.

You kissed him softly and he let out a shaky breath of relief against your lips. However he started to frown when you were suddenly pushing him off of you and patting the empty space on the bed right beside where you were laying. He looked confused and hurt but he didn’t ask any questions, simply rolling over and waiting to see what you were attempting to do.

You watched him for a few seconds, taking in the change of appearance in such a short amount of time.

He was laid back fully on the bed, eyes hooded and cloudy. His mouth was parted slightly as he panted, his chest rising and falling at a fast speed as his arm reached up to try and push his messy hair out of his face. You liked the way he looked like this, especially the way his shirt was ridden up on his stomach, a sliver of skin showing.

He started making small impatient whines and groans so you took mercy on him, flipping yourself over slightly so you could situate yourself on his lap.

You sucked in a breath the second you did, quickly shutting your lips tight after so he didn’t catch sight of the display of pleasure. He was hard underneath and pressed tightly against your core as you sat on him.

“Oh my god.” He was crying out and his hands jutted forward like he was going to grab your sides, stopping midway and flailing around as he didn’t know what he was meant to do with them.

“Touch me.” You spat at him, reaching down to grab his wrist and put his hands on your ass as you leaned forward so you were in a similar position to his a few minutes ago, laying on top of him.

He froze as he touched you and you almost scolded him for acting so prudish with touching you like he wasn’t just trying to fuck you through his cute little pajamas. However you figured it was harder for him to deliberately do something versus acting purely on the overwhelming lust he was feeling.

You gripped his jaw harshly in your hand, your nails digging into his skin slightly as you used your thumb to pull his mouth open and hummed with satisfaction.

“Say you want me inside you.” You whispered, leaning down to talk into his open mouth. You watched his eyes widen in confusion but you rubbed your hips against him as motivation and he immediately complied.

“Want you inside me.” He moaned out, big fat tears sliding down his face. “Y/N please I need it please.”

He didn’t even know what he was asking for but he was overwhelmed and sinking back down into that fuzzy headspace, willing to do anything to get pleasure from you.

You kept his mouth open after he was done speaking and he opened it wider for you, although not understanding where you were heading with this action. He watched with wide confused eyes as you leaned over him and slowly spit into his open mouth.

He cried out, hips bucking up instinctively at the sensation of your spit on his tongue so directly and you almost fell forward from the roughness in which he fucked himself up into you. You smacked his cheek lightly and he snapped his mouth shut with another moan, eyes shut in euphoria.

You hummed at him in approval, leaning back down to kiss him again and lick into his mouth, letting him turn his head sideways in an attempt to get your tongue as deep as possible. You wondered if he was purposely imitating the blowjob you’d given him or if he was just that desperate to be consumed.

“I’m going to take you to hell with me.” You whispered, pulling out of the kiss and petting his hair softly. He shook his head and let out a small sob, this time not from pleasure.

“Do you want to cum?” You didn’t address his denial or tease him further for now, knowing now you had him completely hooked. He was addicted to you and the feelings you gave him and no mean words would be able to keep him away from you.

He seemed hesitant in his nod, now once again thinking about the sins he was committing and the fact he was skipping church to touch a girl inappropriately. But he did eventually nod his head, eyes still watering.

“Then fuck me baby.” You rolled back over as you spoke, flopping onto your back and rubbing his chest through his shirt, slightly surprised by the thick build he had. He was immediately on top of you again and you almost laughed at his haste.

You didn’t mean it literally and you didn’t fear him taking it as such considering he didn’t even know what it meant, he just knew you were cursing and being dirty.

You wondered if he even knew what you had inside your pants, scrapping that idea for another time instead so you didn’t get yourself too worked up thinking about how much it would ruin him to feel you.

He didn’t last long once he was back on top of you, only a few seconds passed before he was letting out a loud cry and hiccuping, his hips jutting against you a few more times in aftershock before he was collapsing on top of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He was sobbing into your neck and you wrapped your arms around his back, rubbing it slowly with an eye roll. “I’m sorry, God please forgive me.”

——

Jake had fallen asleep on top of you shortly after that, exhausted from everything you’d been putting him through both mentally and physically.

You let him lay there on top of you surprisingly despite how uncomfortable it was and how much you kept readying yourself to shove him off of you and leave him without any comfort, you simply couldn’t.

You weren’t quite sure why, it wasn’t like being mean to him was going to ruin your plan and make him not want to talk to you anymore. He was trapped now with you.

Yet you found yourself staying and not only staying but watching him as he slept. He looked younger like this, despite always being very puppy like and boyish you couldn’t deny that Jake was a man and he could be an intimidating one if it wasn’t for his personality. His eyelashes were long and fluttering like he was having a vigorous dream and his back would rise and fall with every deep inhale he took.

By the time he woke up you’d been laying there for probably an hour or two staring at him or looking around his room with curiosity, you felt him shifting against you and almost pretended you were asleep before deciding against it.

He froze his movements when he realized where he was exactly, or at least who it was underneath him. Then he was rolling off of you onto his back with a groan and you were suddenly feeling very cold without his weight and body warmth.

“Did my parents come home?” His voice was low and groggy from sleep and crying and you turned your head to look at him now that you were laying side by side.

“Are you kidding? Like your mother isn’t going to run in here the first second the car parks and hose you down.”

He laughed softly at your words, almost a scoff and your lip quirked up in a smile at his casual reaction, knowing his guard must be down since he was still so tired.

“She wouldn’t do that.” He eventually whispered and you could feel his shoulder pressing against yours. “At least the hose part.”

“Is she as bad as mine?” You weren’t sure what prompted you to ask him something so personal or why you were even making conversation with him in the first place but you were suddenly curious.

“Not sure.” He was looking at you, you could feel it on the side of your head. “My dad is though.”

You hummed as a response, already figuring that from the times you’d interacted with him and the way Jake talked about him earlier. You felt a sudden wave of discomfort at your current situation and fidgeted in your spot on the bed.

“Are you going to leave?” His voice was a whisper still and he wasn’t looking at you anymore from what you could tell. He sounded slightly upset like the thought of you leaving wasn’t pleasant.

“You wanted me to earlier.” You scoffed softly but it was humorless, for some reason feeling offended at the reminder despite knowingly doing everything in your power to make him uncomfortable for your own satisfaction.

He didn’t say anything for a while and you listened to him breathing softly, wondering if he caught on to the hint of insecurity you were accidentally showcasing.

“Well… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He eventually said and you barely heard him considering how low his voice had gotten.

“See you tomorrow Jake.”

——

Tuesday’s were another day that your schedule was slightly shifted after church service. You had always been instructed to some form of community service on that day of the week, wether is be picking up trash or teaching a small class to the elders and children.

You didn’t mind this despite your distaste for religion. You got some sick satisfaction from watching religious people interact, like babies excitedly chatting about fairy tails and wishing for a big grand gesture to fix their own shitty lives.

Plus it got you out of your house and kept you slightly on the good side of your mother typically although you doubt with your recent actions you’d ever be on that side of the fence again.

So it was particularly annoying when you were tasked to clean the church basement, an area usually unseen by anybody in the town including yourself.

It was a mess of overfilled shelves and baskets stacked to the brim with old holiday decorations or donations from past families that were never put to use.

You’d been hesitant to agree, having to try ten times harder than usual to apply your usual fake smile towards your father when you graciously nodded and accepted the task. Luckily a handful of other volunteers had also followed you down the creaky stairs, one of them being Jake.

Not on his own volition considering the way his eyes bulged out of his head when his father roughly nudged him as you stood at the center of the stage requesting helping hands. He hesitantly held his in the air and avoided making eye contact with you as you smiled happily.

The same smile you held now as you stood side by side with him, taking things off the shelves and throwing them into a trash pile. He looked more anxious than usual, like he was genuinely worried you’d try to do something to him while people were watching.

“Miss Y/N?” One of the older women who had volunteered was approaching the two of you, holding a small basket of, what looked like, old arts and crafts. “I found this and was wondering if you thought your father might want to hang them up in the youth study room?”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea ma’am.” You were smiling widely at her, eyes soft and full of light. “You should bring them up to him.”

She was smiling appreciatively at you before turning and heading back up the stairs, missing the way your smile immediately dropped back into a blank expression.

Jake however, didn’t miss it and you heard him scoff from next to you as he observed the interaction. You glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and he shrugged.

“Don’t you get tired of doing that all the time?” He questioned and you faltered slightly. You hadn’t ever really considered it as something you were doing necessarily so his statement threw you off.

“I don’t know… I do it with everybody. I just do it.” You shrugged and awkwardly looked away from him, feeling confronted.

“You don’t do it with me.” He suddenly declared and you were reminded that you didn’t actually know Jake or his personality that well, completely caught off guard by his bluntness.

“Maybe because I knew you were just as bad as me.” You dropped your voice into a small whisper, leaning closer to him slightly as he glanced around to see which volunteers were over in your side of the basement.

He picked up an old toy and tossed it off in the distance, shaking his head in denial. “That’s not true at all.”

“Why isn’t it?” You cocked your head at him and stopped rummaging through the shelf, more interested in what he was saying. You turned your body so you were facing him and could lean against the wood.

“I believe in this.” He looked around the room as if to emphasize what he was referring to. “I love god.”

“Do you? Or have you just been told to?” You were already sure of the answer but you were curious what he would say about that, if he’s ever sat and thought that over or if his faith was really that unwavering.

“I never questioned it before.” He confirmed with a stern voice, sending you a sharp look so you would understand he was serious. “Not once in my life until we moved here. Not once until..”

He trailed off but the implication was heavy and he looked away with a bright flush on his face. He was obviously referring to you and you felt a small spark of satisfaction at the fact he was implying you were the first thing to ever make him doubt, implying that he was doubting at all.

He scowled slightly when he noticed the bright smile that was on your face, one you didn’t even realize you had.

“I’m serious Y/N. If anyone ever found out I…” He didn’t finish his sentence again but you could get the gist of what he was implying, your smile dropping into a frown.

“You think I don’t know that? The stakes are way higher on my side of things incase you forgot.” Your tone was harsher now but you were taking a step closer to him, not bothering to check if anybody was watching. “But you’re mine right? Like you said?”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, turning to face you and taking a big gulp when he realized you were practically close enough to kiss now. You waited for him to say something against your claim, to tell you he had been lust drunk or he didn’t mean it.

Instead he slowly nodded, eyes shooting down awkwardly to your feet. His shy expression was one you were more familiar seeing him with and your smile returned.

“Can you come over today?” You whispered and he looked back at you with a shocked expression, clearly not expecting you to say that. “I have something to show you.”

He was nodding again, not trusting himself to speak without stuttering and you grinned, turning back to the shelf and continuing with your sorting.

——

By the time church was over and Jake got to your house, you were already sat outside on the porch in a big sweater and a scarf wrapped around your neck.

“Are we not.. going in?” He was standing at the end of your driveway, putting his bikes kickstand down and watching you with a confused expression.

“I said I had to show you something didn’t I?” He watched you as you stood from the cement slab, grabbing your own bike from off the side of your house and walking it down towards him with a half smile.

He didn’t say anything as you both got on your bikes, following behind you as you rode off the curb and down the street.

The ride was long and cold, the sky grey as you passed by old houses and empty shops that’d been abandoned as the owners aged. Jake found the town sad a bit but he was curious what you were leading him too and slightly excited that you wanted to spend time with him in a different way than normal.

Eventually you were crossing the threshold of the city limit, a big sign with chipping paint that was welcoming you in or wishing you safe travels out.

After that it wasn’t long before you were slowing to a stop, surrounded by trees and a large field. Jake watched you get off your bike with a raised eyebrow, waiting until you looked back at him with a beckoning hand.

“It’s this way.” You urged and he hopped off, pushing the bikes alongside each other until you were on the other side of the muddy field, approaching a large river. The sound of it was loud as it rushed but not loud enough to block out the noise of the highway across from it, just off in the distance.

Jake watched it as you unpacked your backpack that he didn’t even realize you’d been wearing until now, unfolding a thick blanket and laying it down on the wet grass.

“They can’t build houses over here because the river always overflows.” You started to explain, pulling out a thermos and something wrapped in paper towel as you talked. “The water levels higher than usual because all the rain we get.”

“Sometimes I wonder if they even know we are over here.” You continued with a scoff, sitting criss cross on the blanket now and looking over at Jake who was dropping his bike.

He sat down too, carefully keeping his wet and muddy shoes off of the fabric.

“Do you come here a lot?” He was muttering what felt like his first words of the day, looking around the area and seeing virtually no signs of civilization other than the highway. He wondered for a second if you had even been able to hear him over the sound of it.

“I guess. There isn’t much else to do if you haven’t noticed by now.” You were shrugging as you spoke, you stuck one of your legs out so it nudged against his.

“I’ve been pretty occupied since I’ve gotten here so I guess I didn’t.” His words made you laugh although he was being serious, only having gone from home to church to your room.

He didn’t say anything as you laughed and he still didn’t when you were suddenly moving out of your sitting position, crawling towards him on all fours until you could press yourself against him.

Every part of you was touching as you sat side by side, both facing the rushing river and trying to not focus on how cold it was outside, the sky slowly darkening now since it was around dinner time. That reminded you that you had packed sandwiches and you were leaning forward slightly to reach them, handing him one and watching him unwrap the paper towel in confusion.

His cheeks turned red when he saw what it was, glancing at you and nodding softly in appreciation before taking a bite.

“Why are we here?” He was breaking the silence the two of you had fallen into as you ate and passed the warm thermos back and forth, watching the highway and the building traffic.

“I don’t know.” You felt strangely vulnerable at this question, not really knowing yourself why you’d taken him to such a private place. “Don’t think too deeply about it.”

Your sudden change of tone made him frown and tense against you, a harshness seeping into your words as you reminded him what type of relationship you had going here.

To further prove your point that this wasn’t anything being sin and attraction, you were quickly turning your upper body so you could face him before leaning forward and pressing into a kiss. He froze completely for a few seconds, brain short circuiting at the sudden contact.

Then he was closing his eyes slowly and kissing you back, a low him of appreciation slipping through your lips and vibrating against his.

You turned your body more so you could climb over his legs, straddling him and making a small noise of surprise when his hands were immediately on your lower back, tugging you in tighter against him.

The two of you kissed like that for a while, you sitting comfortably in his lap and feeling him grow hard underneath you embarrassingly quick. He felt strong and sturdy under you but he was letting out little whines and whimpers and he kept trying to pull you in closer, almost like he was trying to merge the two of you together.

Then you were sitting up on your knees and tugging your long skirt up so it was bunched around your hips, mouth parting slightly at the feeling of the cold air nipping at your bare skin. He watched you with confusion, eyes darting around your legs so fast he felt dizzy.

You sat back down on his hard on, now only separated by his jeans and your underwear and he let out a low moan, shooting forward and ducking his head forward into your neck.

“Y/N.” He whined out and you shushed him, petting his hair and rocking your hips slowly against him, liking the way his mouth parted against your skin as he took deep shuddering breaths.

“I want you to feel me.” You were whispering into his hair and he picked his up in alarm, shaking his head and glancing down at your exposed lap.

“I- I don’t know how.” He was rushing out and you laughed softly, reaching down to grab his wrist off the blanket and pick his hand up.

You placed it against your stomach like it was the other day when he was pressing on it absentmindedly, letting him feel the smooth skin above your underwear line for a while before pushing his hand down slightly past the elastic and listening to his gasp.

You were still rocking against him but slower now, letting him feel you for the first time at his own pace and trying not to overwhelm him.

His hand was shaking fast, from the cold and nerves. You imagined he could feel his own hand pressing against his cock as he kept moving it down, trapping it between the both of you. You dipped down again when he hesitatingly stopped moving it once he was fully in your underwear and he let out a cry at the feeling of your wetness against his skin.

“W-what?” He was crying out in concern, eyes shooting up to look at yours. “Are you okay? Are you bleeding?”

“I’m wet.” You explained to him with a breathy voice despite the fact you knew he didn’t understand what that would mean or if it was good or bad. “Means I feel good, you make me feel good.”

That seemed to alarm him more than the idea of you bleeding, his hand instinctively twitching and pressing against you. You leaned down to kiss him again and he reciprocated, forgetting his hand was on you for a few seconds before you were lowering your hips again.

He wasn’t doing anything but just the feeling of his large hands cupping you was making you feel dizzy, rocking against him again despite the strange noise he let out.

“Touch me baby c’mon.” He looked up at you at the sound of your urging, eyes big and wet. He looked nervous but he hesitatingly moved his fingers, curling slightly and pressing against your clit. You let out a cry and he immediately froze, mistaking it for pain. “No Jake, it’s okay do it again.”

He didn’t look sure but he followed your instructions anyways, curling his hand up and being amazed by the way you threw your head back in a small cry.

The two of you seemed to forget about your surroundings, about the rushing lake or the freezing air that was only making the cold grass more bitter to sit in. You almost forgot who you were or the fact you were only a few minutes outside of town, practically riding Jake in a field visible to anyone who cared.

“You’re so pretty.” You remarked and he frowned at your gentle word causing you to lean forward and kiss him softly. “I want to keep you forever.”

You were too lust drunk to think about the heavy implication of your words or the fact saying them went against everything you’d previously been attempting. The whole reason you’d even started touching him today was to distract him from the fact you’d taken him to a place personal to you, to make him forget your act of kindness.

“You can keep me.” He was stuttering out in a high voice, not really sure if you meant what you were saying considering how confusing he found you, how strange this whole situation was.

Jake had accepted at some point that his life was changing now and for some reason, god had put you in his path. At first he figured you were some type of test of faith, if he could just ignore you and your evil nature then he’d be able to prove he was a good man, a holy man. But he began to wonder eventually if you were truly as terrible as he originally thought, as his mother kept remarking every time his father wasn’t in the room.

You made him cry and you occasionally would say terrible things to him. And it was no doubt you had a habit of sinning and making him sin, even when he didn’t want to.

But he thought you were kind at other times and he could tell by the way you zoned out in church during service and were nice to the young residents or helpful to the old, that you didn’t have no emotion. Maybe you were right, although you had a twisted way of teaching him about it.

You were leaning down to kiss him again and he was taking his hand out of your underwear, wiping it on his pants briefly before cupping your face in both his palms and keeping you there.

“Did I ruin you?” You were muttering against his panting mouth with a small smile, hands petting his hair affectionately.

“Almost.” He answered with a slight laugh, kissing you again.

——

By the time you and Jake had left the field, giggling together while you stuffed the wet blanket back into your backpack and jumped over mud puddles, the sun was set and gone.

You followed the streetlights home, walking the bikes side by side the entire time so the 20 minute ride turned into an hour walk.

You went a few streets without talking for a while, listening to the sounds of your tires rolling over gravel or the music nature provided from the surrounding woods just off in the distance. By the time you were crossing back into city limits and setting your sights on the abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town, your curiosity was weighing on you.

“Why did you move here anyways?” You were mumbling on accident so you weren’t sure he had heard you until he cleared his throat.

“A council member caught dad hitting mom.” He said it casually and you wondered if he was used to it or it was a practiced tone. “I guess they thought it’d look bad to punish him there so they sent us away.”

“Does he hit you too?” You weren’t sure why you asked that considering you were already pretty positive of the answer.

“Yeah sometimes.” He shrugged and tried not to fidget at the feeling of you watching him, kicking at a loose rock in the gravel road. “I think he’s mad I’m not very manly.”

“I think you’re manly.” You were frowning and furrowing your eyebrows, only deepening when you heard him let out a disbelieving scoff. “I’m serious.”

And you were. Despite Jake’s outwardly timid personality and the way he basically turned into a nervous obedient puppy everytime you got your hands on him, he was clearly a man. Both in his broad athletic build and in his day to day actions and personality. He was blunt and honest, telling you what he felt even if he thought it might anger you.

“Yeah, whatever.” He was whispering, still not trusting what you were saying and you froze in your tracks, stood directly under a streetlight. He slowed to a stop when he realized you were walking anymore and looked back at you in confusion.

“You wouldn’t have picked on me if I was manly.” He was explaining once he caught sight of your frustrated expression. “You probably wouldn’t have even noticed me.”

“You think I’m picking on you?” You ignored his second statement for now, eyes darkening at the implication of the first.

You weren’t sure why it struck a nerve within you considering he wasn’t half wrong. You had originally sought him out as a victim for you, an experiment or a game. Maybe even a way to further upset your mother, but you didn’t think he thought you were picking on him entirely.

“I don’t know what to think.” He was shaking his head and his eyes looked sad. He started to push his bike again and you rushed to catch up with him. “This is just confusing.”

“Well I’m not.” You kept your voice firm in an attempt to assure him and he didn’t say anything else, sparing you a long glance before looking back forward so he didn’t accidentally hit a pothole.

The two of you didn’t talk anymore after that, walking in a comfortable silence as you slowly got to a more familiar area for him and he realized you were slowly approaching his neighborhood. You must be planning on dropping him off before making you own way home he decided.

Those plans were quickly halted when you turned the corner of his street and saw your own parents car in his driveway, right next to the Sim’s. You both froze in place and stared in front of you in horror.

“Maybe it’s a coincidence.” He whispered and you jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, the words shaking slightly. “We can tell them we got caught up studying at the park.”

“If they’re here they already know.” You immediately stated in a flat voice, having a sick gut feeling as you looked at the two cars. The lights were on in Jake’s living room and you could vaguely make out multiple shadows walking around inside. “I don’t understand.”

“Maybe your dad heard something the other day.” He was rushing out in a hush, looking at you and your uncharacteristically frozen figure. He’d never seen you scared before and it made his skin crawl. “Or that lady in the basement.”

“No that’s not possible, I was-“ Your words faltered and you sucked in a panicked breath, trying to recall the two incidents he was talking about. You had been so caught up in your giddiness to talk to him that you hadn’t paid attention to your surroundings this morning at all, saying damning idiotic things to him in the church of all places.

His hand was coming up and brushing against your arm that was covered in goosebumps. “Go home. I’ll think of a cover for you, I’ll handle it.”

You looked at him with big eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence and the fact he was willingly to lie for you so easily, willing to sin to both his parents and yours so you could be spared from punishment.

“I can’t leave you with them.” You were shaking your head in earnest and he deflated, understanding immediately there was no way of talking you out of it.

You both stood there for a few more beats, staring at each other under the street light and you briefly wondered if you’d see him again after this. You weren’t sure what your parents knew or if they were just following a strong hunch but you knew it didn’t matter. The second they suspected anything, atleast the men, you wouldn’t be allowed to see Jake anymore.

Eventually he took the first step, setting his bike down at the corner of the street and nudging for you to follow suit although you gave him a confused glance.

Following closely behind him, you tried to match his slow casual pace approaching the door and almost felt like you were going to throw up on the porch when he pushed it open without knocking, deciding to not give them any warning you were approaching.

The sight was just as dreadful as you imagined it would be, your parents sat on the Sim’s old couch while his were standing at attention and listening to whatever it was your father had been saying before your arrival.

All heads turned in your direction when you entered, half looking surprised you were together and the others showing no reaction. Your mother was immediately leaping up from the couch and approaching you with a scowl.

You felt her hand hitting your cheek before you even processed she was crossing the room, your head shooting sideways as your own palms came up to grasp your face in shock. Despite your differences, your mother had never directly struck you.

“You’re a disgrace.” She spat, literally, in your direction and you vaguely saw Jake flinch in your direction like he wanted to grab you. “No more games little girl, they finally see what I have all these years.”

One glance in your fathers direction told you she was telling the truth. He’d never been a good father but he wasn’t cruel, choosing religion over warmth and parenting. So upon seeing his cold stare you automatically knew things were too far gone.

“And you.” She was turning to sneer in Jake’s direction now and you were slightly surprised to see him square back his shoulders, jaw clenching. “How can you be so stupid?”

“Mary, please advise yourself on how you speak to my son.” Jake’s mother was piling up from the couch “I thought we agreed that your daughter is the one at fault here.”

“What?” Jake was spitting out and your eyes widened, wanting to tell him to shut up and let it run its course. “It was as much me as it was her.”

“No it wasn’t.” You were shaking your head at lightning speed, taking a step forward but rocking back again when your mother shot a glare in your direction. “It was all me.”

Jake was glaring at you but you knew he held no anger, only frustration that you were attempting to take the punishment for this. He was crazy to think you wouldn’t considering it was all your doing in the first place.

“It doesn’t matter.” Your fathers cool and calm voice was ringing out and everybody turned to look at him. “Tomorrow morning Y/N will be sent to a correctional school. I should’ve listened to your mother when she begged me to send you years ago.”

Your eyes were watering as you looked at him with pure betrayal. Despite your hatred for your town, for your longing to leave and never return you felt an overwhelming sense of panic at the thought of being sent away. You looked over at Jake to find him already watching you with the same panic in his eyes.

Then he was turning back towards your father with a shake of his head and a stony expression. “I won’t let you do that.”

Jake’s father scoffed, making his first noise of the night and you glanced over at his large frame. He was watching Jake with disgust and amusement but you saw a faint hint of a challenge in his eyes.

“And what will you do son?” He was approaching Jake with a sneer, looking down at him. Jake raised his chin to meet his stare, his hands shaking against his sides. “You can’t even protect your own mother.”

It was said in a whisper so only Jake could hear it but you were standing close enough to faintly catch it, mouth parting in shock at his blunt admission before opening further when Jake was suddenly moving faster than you could even pinpoint when he had started.

Jake was on his father before he even had a chance to prepare for it and you could hear the shrieks of the women, your own fathers grunts as he jumped off the couch to try and control the situation. You were standing on the side, hands out and trying to grip a hold of Jake’s jacket to tug him back when he glanced back at your hurriedly while his dad was disoriented.

“Go.” He mouthed the word at you and you felt your heart shatter slightly, shaking your head in denial before he gave you a firm nod and a soft smile.

You could do nothing but watch in horror as his dad took advantage of him being distracted, slamming Jake onto the ground, nearly blocking the front door. You took your chance to run before somebody realized you were going to and stopped you, sparing Jake one last look before heading out the door.

You aggressively wiped your tears as you ran down the street, sobbing as you could still hear the screams and grunts of pain from Jake coming from the door you’d left open. Your cheek was stinging still but you powered through it, letting the cold numb you as you hopped on your bike you’d abandoned under the light and started peddling so hard your thighs burned.

The wind was howling as you sped past your own neighborhood and the church, the empty buildings a blur through your teary eyes and you fell off your bike once you finally approached the field you’d been in earlier that day, landing in the mud with a cry.

You left your bike near the entrance, wobbling closer to the river with harsh sobs ripping through you, your knees and skirt dripping in mud.

For a moment you wondered if this was it. If you’d been wrong your entire life about religion and sin and this was god letting you know he was here and he was furious with you for the evil you let harvest.

If taking Jake and hurting him was all because you had done bad things and harmed the people around you. You let out a scream of frustration and looked up at the dark grey, wanting to tell him you didn’t care if he was watching and it wasn’t fair.

Instead you let yourself fall against the wet grass, curling into a ball and hugging your knees to your chest as you listened to the rushing river and the honks of traffic. You briefly remembered you were still wearing your backpack and it contained a blanket you could cover up with but you had no energy left to reach back to get it.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there crying, the sky getting darker and darker as you sat and waited.

You weren’t positive what you were even waiting for. Maybe for your parents to come searching for you so they could drag you away to some far away place or maybe the more hopeful part of you was waiting for Jake to come, to tell you he was okay.

The thought of him made you cry harder when you remembered the sounds he was making as you ran out and how furious his father looked about being struck. A man with an ego was dangerous especially when it got wounded.

Waves of guilt were rushing over you for dragging Jake into your twisted fantasies, for wanting to keep him even after you’d gotten what you wanted. For liking him despite not knowing you were capable of that until he arrived. You wished the river would fill up and swallow you inside it.

Over all the combined sounds you barely registered a few being added.

You didn’t hear the sound of the bike tires approaching, or the splashing of the mud puddles underneath hurried feet. You didn’t hear his worried pants or the desperate call of your name in the distance.

It wasn’t until he was there did you feel him, it wasn’t until he was reaching down to grab your arm.

You’re staring at your own reflection in the bathroom mirror, and the girl staring back looks like she’s about to either throw up or ascend to another dimension. Maybe both. In that order.

The letter is clutched so tightly in your hand that the pale lavender envelope is starting to crease, and you force yourself to loosen your grip before you ruin the one thing you’ve spent three weeks perfecting. Three weeks. That’s twenty-one days of drafting, crossing out, rewriting, Googling “how to write a love letter without sounding like a desperate loser,” and then rewriting again. You’ve used up an entire pack of stationery. You’ve watched so many calligraphy tutorials that the YouTube algorithm thinks you’re training to become a medieval scribe. All for this one moment. This one letter. This one massive, terrifying, possibly life-ruining leap of faith.

You are a hopeless romantic. Hopeless being the operative word.

It’s not that you don’t believe in love. You do. Desperately, overwhelmingly, with every fiber of your first-year STEM student soul. You believe in meet-cutes and slow burns and the exact moment when two people look at each other and the entire world goes soft around the edges. You’ve read about it a hundred times. You’ve watched it play out on every screen you own. You’ve composed entire daydreams about it during particularly boring chemistry lectures. Love is your favorite subject, the one you’ve studied with more dedication than calculus or physics combined. There’s just one tiny, inconvenient, absolutely infuriating problem.

You’re terrified of it.

Not the idea of it. The idea is lovely. The idea is safe. The idea lives in your head where everything unfolds exactly the way you want it to, where you always say the right thing, where you never trip over your own feet or laugh too loud at the wrong moment or stand frozen in a doorway like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. But real love? The kind that requires vulnerability and eye contact and actually speaking words out loud with your mouth? That kind of love makes your palms sweat and your heart race in a decidedly unromantic, fight-or-flight kind of way. You are, and this is the most embarrassing part, a coward. A romantic coward. You dream of grand gestures but can barely manage a coherent sentence when an attractive person so much as glances in your direction.

Which brings you back to the letter.

The letter is your loophole. Your workaround. Your way of confessing your feelings without actually having to say them, because writing them down felt manageable in a way that speaking never has. You can be eloquent on paper. On paper, you can say things like “the first time I saw your smile, it felt like someone had turned on all the lights in a room I didn’t even realize was dark” without immediately wanting to crawl into the nearest hole and live out the rest of your days an hermit. On paper, you’re brave. On paper, you’re the kind of person who goes after what she wants.

In reality, you’ve been hiding in this bathroom for fifteen minutes, and your hands are shaking so badly that a passing person would think you are having an epileptic seizure.

“Okay,” you whisper to your reflection. “Okay. You can do this. You are a woman on a mission. You are a warrior. You are-”

A toilet flushes in one of the stalls behind you, and you nearly launch yourself through the ceiling.

A girl you vaguely recognize from your introductory programming class emerges, gives you an odd look as she washes her hands, and leaves without saying anything. You wait until the door swings shut, then press your forehead against the cool glass of the mirror and contemplate every life choice that has led you to this moment.

His name is Jungwon.

Yang Jungwon. Second year. Undeclared major but leaning toward something in the humanities, which you know because you may have done a bit of light, respectful, completely non-creepy research. He has a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes and a laugh that sounds like sunshine if sunshine could make noise, and he holds doors open for people even when they’re still like ten feet away, which creates that awkward situation where the person has to speed-walk to not seem rude, but he never seems to mind. You first noticed him at the campus library during midterms when he quietly slid a pack of gummy bears across the table toward you at 2 AM, muttering something about glucose being good for brain function, and then went back to his book like he hadn’t just fundamentally altered the trajectory of your entire emotional existence.

That was four months ago. You’ve been pining ever since. Pining, yearning, longing, you’ve run through the entire lexicon of unrequited affection, and you’re exhausted. Today, you’ve decided, is the day it ends. One way or another.

You push yourself off the mirror, square your shoulders, and march out of the bathroom with the determination of someone going to war. The envelope is slightly damp from your grip, but it’s still intact, and the words inside are still true, and somewhere on this campus, Yang Jungwon is about to receive the most heartfelt confession letter ever written by a first-year student who has consumed an unhealthy amount of romance media.

Now you just have to find him.

—————

The hallway is bustling with students, the usual midday chaos of people rushing to classes or huddling in groups to complain about assignments. You scan the crowd, looking for a familiar face that might point you in the right direction, and your eyes land on a guy leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone with the dead-eyed expression of someone who has just finished a three-hour lab.

“Excuse me,” you say, and your voice comes out about an octave higher than normal. You clear your throat. “Sorry, um, do you know where I can find Yang Jungwon? Second year?”

The guy looks up, blinks slowly, deciding whether or not to acknowledge your presence, and then shrugs. “PC room, I think. Saw him heading there like twenty minutes ago.”

The PC room. Of course. It’s in the engineering and informatics building, a place you’ve rarely ever been to. But you know where it is, roughly, and you thank the guy with what you hope is a normal smile and not the rictus grin of someone rushing toward emotional catastrophe.

The walk across campus takes approximately seven minutes, and you spend every single one of them rehearsing what you’re going to say. You’ve already written the letter, so technically you don’t have to say anything, you can just hand it over and flee but you want to say something. Something cool. Something memorable.

“Hey, Jungwon, this is for you.” Simple. Direct. Good.

“I wrote you something. No pressure, just read it when you have time.” Casual. Low-stakes. Excellent.

“Hi, I’ve been emotionally compromised by your existence for several months, please accept this paper rectangle of feelings.” Okay, maybe not that one.

The engineering building looms in front of you before you’re ready. You push through the main doors and immediately feel out of place. The students here move with a different energy, less frantic, more focused, the kind of people who probably know what a server is and have opinions about programming languages you’ve never heard of.

You follow the signs toward the PC room, your footsteps echoing in the corridor, and with every step, your heart climbs higher up your throat. This is it. This is the moment. You’re going to walk in there, find Jungwon, hand him the letter, and then whatever happens happens. At least you’ll have tried. At least you’ll have been brave, even if it’s only for thirty seconds.

The door to the PC room is slightly ajar, and you can hear voices inside, multiple voices, which gives you pause. You assumed he’d be alone. Or with maybe one other person.

You hesitate. Your hand hovers over the door handle. Every instinct is screaming at you to turn around, go back to your dorm, and spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been. And maybe you would, if not for the small, stubborn voice in the back of your mind that says: You’ve already come this far. Don’t you want to know? Don’t you want to be the kind of person who actually does the thing instead of just dreaming about it?

Yes. Yes, you do.

You squeeze your eyes shut, take a breath so deep it makes you lightheaded, and push the door open with more force than strictly necessary. It slams against the wall with a bang that makes approximately twelve heads swivel in your direction, and for one horrifying moment, you are the center of attention in a room full of strangers.

But you don’t see any of them. You only see the figure sitting at the computer closest to the door, his back half-turned to you, hair falling over his forehead, the exact silhouette you’ve been looking for. Or at least, the exact silhouette you think you’ve been looking for.

You don’t stop to confirm. You don’t let yourself think. You just march forward, thrust the letter out in front of you like a shield, and launch into the speech you’ve been rehearsing for three weeks.

“This is for you. I’m sorry if this is weird or sudden but I’ve liked you for a really long time and I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. You don’t have to respond right away. You don’t have to respond ever, actually. I just wanted you to know that someone out there thinks you’re wonderful and I wrote it all down because I’m better at writing than talking and honestly I might pass out if I keep standing here so please just take this and I’ll go-”

You finally look up.

And the face staring back at you is absolutely, categorically, one hundred percent not Jungwon.

The boy in front of you is taller than Jungwon. Broader shoulders. Sharper jawline. Different eyes, darker, deeper, currently widened in a mixture of surprise and something you can’t quite read. His lips are parted slightly, as if he was about to say something before you launched into your emotional word-vomit, and he’s holding a half-eaten protein bar that’s now frozen halfway to his mouth.

The room has gone completely, utterly silent.

You can feel the stares of every single person boring into the back of your head. Someone coughs. Someone else whispers something that sounds suspiciously like “did she just-” before being shushed by their neighbor.

And then the boy, the very handsome, very wrong boy, sets down his protein bar, takes the letter gently from your trembling hand, and says in a voice that’s low and smooth and completely unfamiliar: “Wow. Okay. What’s your name?”

This is the worst moment of your entire life. You are going to die right here, in this PC room, surrounded by computer monitors and half-empty energy drink cans and a dozen witnesses who will spread this story to every corner of the university within the next three hours. Your obituary will read: here lies Y/N, the loser who can’t even recognize her ultimate crush.

“Y/N,” you croak, because your mouth is apparently still functioning even though every other part of you has shut down. “L/N Y/N. First year. STEM.”

You don’t know why you said STEM. He didn’t ask for your department. You’re offering information nobody requested. This is a disaster.

But the boy, he’s looking at you with an expression you can’t decipher, his head tilted slightly to the side like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. He’s wearing a dark hoodie with the informatics department logo on it, and there’s a pair of expensive-looking headphones draped around his neck, and his hair is slightly mussed in a way that suggests he’s been running his fingers through it while concentrating. He’s absurdly good-looking, the kind of good-looking that makes you simultaneously want to stare and look away, and you’re only now noticing the way several girls in the room have been watching him since you entered, not just because of your blunder, but because they’ve been watching him.

“I’m Heeseung,” he says, and there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Lee Heeseung. Third year. Informatics engineering.”

Lee Heeseung. The name registers somewhere in the back of your panic-addled brain. It’s familiar in the way that campus gossip is familiar, attached to words like hot and player and don’t get your hopes up because he’ll charm you and then move on. You’ve heard girls in your dorm talking about him in hushed, giggling tones, trading stories about brief encounters and misinterpreted invitations. And you, in your infinite wisdom, have just handed a love letter meant for someone else directly into his notorious hands.

You have to fix this. You have to tell him it was a mistake. You have to-

“I’m flattered,” Heeseung says, and his smile widens slightly, not quite a smirk but definitely approaching smirk territory. “Really. This is... I mean, no one’s ever confessed to me with an actual letter before. It’s kind of old school.” He turns the envelope over in his hands, examining it with what seems like genuine curiosity. “The handwriting is really pretty. Did you do the calligraphy yourself?”

“Yes,” you say, because you are physically incapable of lying when put on the spot, and also because your brain has apparently decided that the best course of action is to just answer whatever questions he asks like this is a normal conversation and not the emotional equivalent of a tornado.

“Impressive.” He looks at you, really looks at you, and something shifts in his expression. The teasing edge softens just a fraction. “A confession is a lot, though. I mean, I’m honored, but we don’t even know each other.”

This is your opening. This is the moment where you say “actually, that’s because this letter wasn’t meant for you, there’s been a terrible misunderstanding, I’m so sorry, please forget this ever happened.” The words are right there, lined up on your tongue, ready to go.

But the room is still watching. A dozen pairs of eyes. The whispers have stopped, but the staring hasn’t, and you can feel every single gaze like a physical weight pressing down on you. If you correct him now, in front of everyone, you’ll have to explain. You’ll have to admit that you walked into a crowded room and confessed to the wrong person like an absolute buffoon. You’ll become a campus legend for all the wrong reasons: the girl who was too stupid to even identify her own crush. The story will follow you for the rest of your university career. You’ll never live it down.

But if you just... let him believe it... if you just nod and agree and leave as quickly as possible... you can fix this later. Privately. Without an audience. You can find him tomorrow, or send him a message, or do literally anything other than humiliate yourself further in front of all these people.

Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

“I know,” you hear yourself say. “It’s a lot. I know.”

Heeseung nods thoughtfully, like you’ve said something profound. “But I’m not against it. Starting slow, I mean. If you want.”

What.

“What,” you say, but it comes out more like a statement than a question.

“I’m okay with starting slow,” he repeats, and now the smile is definitely back, a little crooked, a little curious. “You’re cute. And clearly brave. I like that. So if you want to, I don’t know, get coffee sometime and see where this goes... I’m open to it.”

Someone in the room lets out a low whistle. Someone else says “Heeseung, are you serious right now?” in a tone of utter disbelief. But Heeseung doesn’t look away from you. He’s waiting for your answer, his gaze steady and warm, and you are standing in the epicenter of a complete and total catastrophe with absolutely no idea how to get out.

Say no. Say it was a mistake. Say the truth.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Okay?! Okay?!

“Okay,” he echoes, and the smile breaks fully across his face, transforming him from handsome to devastating. “Good. I’ll find you. Y/N, first year, STEM, right?”

You nod mutely.

“Cool.” He tucks your letter carefully into the pocket of his hoodie, like it’s something precious, like he’s planning to read it later, and the gesture makes your stomach twist with guilt so intense you think you might actually be sick. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You don’t remember leaving the room. You don’t remember the walk back across campus or the elevator ride to your floor or the moment you collapsed face-first onto your dorm bed. All you know is that one moment you were standing in the PC room, and the next you are here, staring at the ceiling, replaying every single agonizing second on an endless loop.

You confessed to the wrong person.

You confessed to the wrong person.

And for some reason that you absolutely cannot comprehend, he said yes.

Across campus, in a PC room that has finally returned to its normal hum of activity, Lee Heeseung pulls a slightly crumpled lavender envelope out of his hoodie pocket and stares at it for a long moment.

“Dude,” says his friend Jay from the next computer over, not bothering to hide his grin. “What just happened?”

“I don’t know,” Heeseung says honestly. And he doesn’t. He’s used to attention, he knows how to handle it, how to smile and nod and gently redirect without hurting anyone’s feelings. It’s a skill he’s developed over the years, the only way he knows to deal with the unfortunate side effect of his people-pleasing tendencies. He’s nice to someone, he helps them with an assignment, he holds a door open or offers a pen, and suddenly they’re looking at him with stars in their eyes, and he doesn’t know how to tell them that he was just trying to be polite without sounding like an arrogant jerk. So he lets them down easy, or he avoids the situation entirely, and his reputation grows in ways that don’t reflect the truth at all.

But this, this is new. A letter. An actual, physical, handwritten letter, with swooping calligraphy and a lavender envelope and a girl who looked so terrified that he thought she might actually pass out right there on the linoleum floor.

She looked at him like he was a natural disaster. Like she was watching a building collapse in slow motion and couldn’t do anything to stop it.

And then she said okay anyway.

“She’s interesting,” Heeseung murmurs, more to himself than to Jay, and carefully opens the envelope.

“Interesting how?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s too busy reading, his eyes moving slowly across the carefully penned words, the ink slightly smudged in places where the writer’s hand might have trembled. It’s beautiful. It’s earnest. It’s the kind of letter that someone writes when they mean every single word, when they’ve poured their entire heart onto the page without holding anything back.

He’s never received anything like it before.

And he wants to know more about the girl who wrote it, the girl who burst into his afternoon like a hurricane of nerves and feelings.

“Jay,” he says, still staring at the letter, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I think something interesting just walked into my life.”

He doesn’t notice the way his friend shakes his head and mutters something about “here we go again.”

He’s too busy wondering when he’ll see Y/N next.

—————

The following forty-eight hours of your life can be accurately described as a masterclass in strategic avoidance and tactical regret.

You skip two classes. Not on purpose, exactly, you just can’t bring yourself to leave your dorm room when every shadow in the hallway might be Lee Heeseung coming to collect on that coffee date you apparently agreed to in a moment of temporary insanity. You survive on instant noodles and the protein bars your friend left on her desk with a sticky note that said “FOR EMERGENCIES ONLY,” which this absolutely qualifies as. You watch three entire seasons of Bridgerton without retaining a single moment because your brain is too busy replaying the PC room incident on a continuous, merciless loop.

“I’m Lee Heeseung. Third year. Informatics engineering.”

“I’m okay with starting slow.”

“You’re cute.”

You bury your face in your pillow and scream, but it comes out muffled and pathetic, like a small animal giving up on life.

By day three, you’ve developed a system. You only leave your room during off-peak hours, skittering through campus, your head on a constant swivel. You’ve memorized the locations of every vending machine in buildings Heeseung is unlikely to frequent. You’ve started taking the long way to your remaining classes, cutting through the art department and the greenhouse and once, memorably, a service corridor that smelled strongly of bleach and soap. You’ve become a ghost. A phantom. A creature of the shadows who survives on granola bars and instant noddles.

But the problem with running away from your problems is that your problems don’t actually go anywhere. They just wait. And think about you. And eventually, when you least expect it, they catch up.

It happens on a Thursday.

You’re crouched behind a potted plant near the science building, scanning the courtyard for any sign of tall, attractive informatics students, when your phone buzzes with a text from your best friend, Yunjin.

Yunjin: heard you’ve been living like a sewer rat. want me to bring you real food?

You: can’t. i’m in the middle of a crisis

Yunjin: You’re executing what we talked about yet?

You: it’s in process

Yunjin: at the end of the day, you will have to tell him

You stare at the message for a long moment. It’s such a simple solution. So elegant. So reasonable. And yet, every time you imagine yourself walking up to Heeseung and saying “actually, I meant to give that letter to someone else,” your entire body physically recoils like you’ve touched a hot stove. The humiliation would be astronomical. The look on his face, surprise, then confusion, then that horrible moment of realization that he was never supposed to be the recipient would haunt you for the rest of your natural life. And you’d still have to explain the Jungwon part. And Jungwon would find out. And then you’d be the weird girl who couldn’t even confess to the right person, and Heeseung would be the guy who got accidentally confessed to, and everyone would laugh about it for weeks, and-

Your phone buzzes again.

Yunjin: i can hear you overthinking from across campus. just rip off the bandaid. what’s the worst that could happen

You type back a single message: he could tell everyone and i’d have to transfer schools and change my name and become a farmer in New Zeland

Yunjin: dramatic. but valid. good luck with your plant hiding

You shove your phone back into your pocket and peek around the potted plant again. The courtyard is clear. This is your window. You take a deep breath, steel your nerves, and scuttle out from behind the foliage.

The plan for today is simple: find Heeseung, explain the misunderstanding, and disappear forever. You’ve spent the entire morning psyching yourself up for this. You’ve practiced the speech in the mirror seventeen times. You’ve even written a script on your phone that you can refer to in case of emergency. It’s thorough, it’s clear, it leaves absolutely no room for misinterpretation, and it ends with a sincere apology and a polite request that you both pretend this never happened. It’s perfect. It’s foolproof. All you have to do is locate the target.

Easier said than done. You’ve been looking for him since yesterday, not to talk to, but to observe from a safe distance so you could plan your approach and the universe, in its infinite comedic wisdom, has made him completely unfindable. It’s like he vanished off the face of the earth the moment you actually wanted to see him. Three days ago, you couldn’t walk three feet without catching a glimpse of him, but now? Now he’s a ghost. A myth. A concept rather than a physical entity.

You’re going to have to ask for help.

This is, objectively, a terrible idea. Asking for help means talking to people, and talking to people about Heeseung means potentially revealing that you’re looking for him, which means potentially revealing why you’re looking for him, which means the whole campus could know about the letter situation by lunchtime. But you’re running out of options, and you’re running out of granola bars, and you can’t live behind potted plants forever.

You find your informant near the engineering building, a girl with neon green headphones and a laptop covered in stickers, sitting on a bench and typing furiously at something that looks like code. She seems approachable. She seems like she won’t ask too many questions. You approach with what you hope is casual confidence and not the desperate energy of someone who has been living on protein bars.

“Excuse me,” you say, and your voice comes out surprisingly normal. Points for you. “Do you know where I can find Lee Heeseung? Third year, informatics?”

The girl looks up, her eyes flicking over you with mild curiosity. She doesn’t ask why you’re looking for him, which makes you want to hug her. “Heeseung? Yeah, I think I saw him heading to the quad about ten minutes ago. Something about meeting up with some people before his next class.”

The quad. Of course. The most open, public, exposed location on the entire campus. The place where literally everyone congregates. The absolute last place you want to have a conversation about accidental love confessions.

“Great,” you say, and your voice is definitely an octave higher now. “Great. Thank you. Thanks. So much.”

The girl gives you a weird look, shrugs, and goes back to her coding.

You’re already moving, your feet carrying you toward the quad before your brain can catch up and talk you out of it. This is fine. This is progress. You’ll find him, you’ll pull him aside, you’ll give him the speech, and then you’ll be free. You’ll be a normal person again. You’ll be able to walk through campus without checking every corner for a tall informatics student who thinks you’re cute and brave and worthy of a coffee date.

The quad is bustling when you arrive, clusters of students sprawled across the grass and gathered around the stone benches near the fountain. The afternoon sun is bright and warm, the kind of weather that makes everyone want to be outside, which is lovely and picturesque and deeply inconvenient for your purposes. You squint against the glare, scanning the crowd for a familiar dark-haired figure.

No Heeseung.

You circle the perimeter, weaving between groups of friends and dodging a frisbee that comes sailing dangerously close to your head. You check near the fountain, near the big oak tree, near the cluster of food trucks that’s set up along the east edge. Still no Heeseung. Your informant said ten minutes ago, he should be here. Unless he already left. Unless you missed him. Unless this is a sign from the universe that you should give up and commit to the farmer life plan after all.

You’re so focused on your search that you don’t notice someone approaching until a shadow falls across your path, and a voice, warm, familiar, the exact voice you’ve been daydreaming about for four months, says:

“Y/N? Hey, it is you!”

You look up.

Yang Jungwon is standing right in front of you, smiling like the sun just came out from behind a cloud, and every single coherent thought in your brain immediately evaporates.

He’s wearing a soft-looking cream sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and his dark hair is slightly windswept, and there’s a tiny mole near his chin that you’ve never noticed before but is now seared into your memory forever. He’s holding a book, something with a cracked spine and a title in a language you don’t recognize and he’s looking at you with genuine, undiluted pleasure, like running into you is the best thing that’s happened to him all day.

“It’s me,” you say, because you are a conversational genius. “I mean. Yes. Hi. Hello.”

Smooth. Flawless execution. Ten out of ten.

Jungwon doesn’t seem to notice your complete lack of verbal grace. His smile widens, crinkling the corners of his eyes in exactly the way you’ve catalogued in your mental Jungwon database. “I thought I recognized you. You’re in my philosophy elective, right? Front row, near the window?”

He knows where you sit. He knows where you sit. This is both the best and worst information you’ve ever received, because on one hand, Yang Jungwon has noticed your existence, but on the other hand, Yang Jungwon has noticed your existence, and now you have to be a normal human being and not the disaster you currently are.

“Front row near the window,” you confirm, nodding a little too vigorously. “That’s me. I like the natural light. For... note-taking purposes.”

“Makes sense.” He shifts his weight, tucking the book under his arm. “You take really detailed notes, by the way. I sat behind you once, and I was honestly impressed. Your color-coding system is no joke.”

Jungwon has looked at your notes. Jungwon has been impressed by your notes. Your brain is short-circuiting at approximately the speed of light, and you have to physically resist the urge to fist-pump in the middle of the quad.

“Thank you,” you manage. “I have a lot of highlighters. Maybe too many. Is there such a thing as too many highlighters? I don’t think so, but I’ve been told my stationery collection is concerning.”

Oh no. Why are you talking about stationery? You need to say something charming. Something witty. Something that will make him see you as more than the girl with the aggressive color-coding system.

“I don’t think it’s concerning,” Jungwon says, and there’s a teasing lilt to his voice that makes your knees go weak. “Passionate, maybe. Dedicated. I respect it.”

“Passionate and dedicated,” you repeat faintly. “That’s... yeah. That’s my brand.”

He laughs, and it’s exactly like you remember, bright and warm, the kind of laugh that makes you want to do whatever you just did again and again just to hear it on repeat. “I like it. Passion is underrated.” He tilts his head, studying you with an expression you can’t quite read. “So what brings you to the quad? You usually eat lunch in the science building courtyard, don’t you?”

Your heart stutters. He knows where you eat lunch. He’s observed your habits. This is either a sign of mutual interest or you’ve accidentally become the subject of a sociological case study, and at this point you’re willing to accept either outcome.

“I’m, um, looking for someone,” you say, and the confession letter debacle comes crashing back into your consciousness like a wrecking ball through a glass window. Right. You’re supposed to be finding Heeseung. You’re supposed to be fixing the misunderstanding. That’s why you’re here. Not to bask in the radiant warmth of Jungwon’s attention like a lizard on a sunny rock.

“Anyone I know?” Jungwon asks, and there’s something in his tone, curiosity, maybe.

“Probably not,” you say quickly. “Just a... just a person. A random person. Not important.”

Jungwon raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but before he can press further, a new voice cuts through the afternoon air like a knife through butter.

“There you are.”

You freeze. Your blood turns to ice. Every cell in your body screams in unison: run.

Lee Heeseung is walking toward you across the quad, his headphones hanging around his neck and his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his jacket. He looks exactly as devastatingly attractive as he did three days ago, which is deeply unfair. His expression is a mixture of curiosity and amusement, and when his eyes meet yours, that slight smile, the one that’s not quite a smirk but definitely is a smirk’s second cousin, curves across his lips.

“I heard you’ve been looking for me,” he says, coming to a stop beside Jungwon like this is the most natural gathering in the world. “You know, if you wanted to see me, you could have just messaged. I would have given you my number at the PC room.”

Jungwon looks between you and Heeseung with visible confusion, his earlier smile fading into something more guarded. “Wait. You two know each other?”

This is it. This is the moment the universe has been building toward. Every terrible decision, every act of cowardice, every misguided attempt to avoid embarrassment, it’s all led here, to this exact spot on the quad, with the wrong guy standing next to the right guy and your entire romantic future hanging in the balance.

“I wouldn’t say know,” you begin, but Heeseung is already talking over you, apparently immune to the desperate telepathic signals you’re trying to beam directly into his brain.

“She confessed to me two days ago,” Heeseung says, and his tone is so casual, so conversational, like he’s discussing the weather or what he had for lunch. “Walked right into the PC room, handed me a letter, told me she’d liked me for a long time. It was very romantic. Very old-school. I was impressed.”

Silence. Jungwon stares at Heeseung. Then at you. Then back at Heeseung.

“She... confessed to you,” Jungwon repeats slowly, and his voice has gone flat in a way that makes your heart splinter into approximately seven thousand pieces.

“Full confession,” Heeseung confirms, still smiling. “I’m thinking we’ll start with coffee. Keep it simple, you know? She’s shy. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

This is a nightmare. This is a waking, breathing, actively-unfolding nightmare, and you are trapped in it like a fly in amber, unable to move or speak or do anything except watch as every possible future with Jungwon crumbles to dust before your eyes.

Because here’s the thing you realize in that horrible, crystal-clear moment: you can’t correct Heeseung now. Not in front of Jungwon. Not when Jungwon has just been told, in no uncertain terms, that you confessed to someone else. If you explain the truth, that the letter was actually meant for Jungwon, that the whole thing was a catastrophic mistake, then what? Jungwon would know you’d been planning to confess to him, but he’d also know that you somehow managed to mess it up so spectacularly that you confessed to his friend instead. You’d look incompetent at best and completely unhinged at worst. And Heeseung would be humiliated, and Jungwon would be awkward, and you’d be the epicenter of a social catastrophe so immense that all three of you would have to avoid each other for the rest of your academic careers.

You are trapped. Completely, utterly, irreversibly trapped.

“Interesting,” Jungwon says, and the word is so neutral that it cuts deeper than any insult ever could. “I didn’t realize you two ran in the same circles.”

“We don’t,” you croak. “We really, really don’t.”

“We’re just getting started,” Heeseung says cheerfully, and he has the audacity to wink at you. Like this is some kind of adorable inside joke instead of the emotional apocalypse it actually is.

You have to get out of here. You have to escape before the sob building in your chest forces its way out and makes everything infinitely worse. You can feel it pressing against your ribs, hot and insistent, and if you don’t leave right now, you’re going to burst into tears in the middle of the quad in front of both of them, and then the disaster will be complete.

“I have to go,” you blurt out, and you’re already backing away, your feet moving before your brain can issue any kind of warning. “I have… a thing. A class. A lab. A lab class. It’s very important. I can’t miss it. I have to go.”

Heeseung’s brow furrows slightly. “Wait, I thought you wanted to talk to-”

“Nope! No talking! We’re good! Everything’s fine! Bye!”

You spin around and power-walk toward the nearest exit, which happens to be in the direction of the fountain, which you only realize when your foot catches on the low stone ledge and you go sprawling forward with all the grace of a newborn giraffe.

Your knee hits the ground. Your dignity hits the ground approximately three feet to the left. Several people turn to look.

“Y/N!” That’s Jungwon’s voice, concerned and moving closer, and you absolutely cannot handle that right now.

“I’m fine!” you shriek, scrambling to your feet with adrenaline-fueled desperation. “Totally fine! Happens all the time! I’m very clumsy! It’s part of my charm!”

You don’t look back. You can’t look back. If you look back, you’ll see Jungwon’s worried expression and Heeseung’s confused one, and you’ll have to confront the full magnitude of what just happened, and your fragile emotional state simply cannot withstand that kind of pressure. So you run. Not jog, not power-walk…run. Across the quad, past the food trucks, through a gap between two buildings, and out onto the main campus pathway like the hounds of hell are snapping at your heels.

You don’t stop until you reach the arts building, and you don’t start breathing normally until you’ve locked yourself in a practice room on the third floor, surrounded by soundproof walls and a piano that’s seen better days. You slide down against the door, pull your knees up to your chest, and let out a sound that’s halfway between a groan and a wail.

Everything is ruined. Everything. You had one chance, one single, solitary chance to fix the misunderstanding and salvage your dignity and maybe, just maybe, preserve the possibility of something with Jungwon somewhere down the line. And instead, you let your hopeless romantic heart get distracted by a five-minute conversation about philosophy notes and highlighters, and now you’re the girl who confessed to Lee Heeseung, and Jungwon thinks you’re interested in someone else, and there is no conceivable way to untangle this mess without making everything exponentially worse.

You’re going to have to transfer schools. You’re going to have to move to another country. You’re going to have to fake your own death and start a new identity as a goat farmer in New Zeland.

The door handle jiggles behind you. “Occupied!” you yell, your voice cracking.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

Your best friend Yunjin’s voice filters through the door, muffled but unmistakable, and the sound of it is enough to crack the dam you’ve been desperately trying to hold together. You scramble to your feet, fumble with the lock, and yank the door open to reveal Yunjin standing in the hallway with a cup of bubble tea in each hand and an expression of profound concern on her face.

“I saw you running,” she says, her eyes scanning your disheveled appearance. “Like, truly running. I’ve never seen you run before. You once told me running was for people who don’t appreciate the journey.”

“Yunjin,” you crumble, and your voice is so pitiful that she immediately sets down both drinks and pulls you into a hug.

“Okay,” she says, steering you back into the practice room and closing the door behind her. “Okay. Sit down. Tell me everything. What happened? Did you talk to Heeseung? Did you fix it?”

You laugh, but it comes out wrong, high and wobbly, on the edge of hysteria. “Fix it? Fix it? Yunjin, I made it so much worse. I made it so much worse that I think I actually created new dimensions of worse. Scientists are going to have to invent new words to describe how badly I messed this up.”

“That’s... improbable,” Yunjin says carefully. “But I’m listening.”

She settles onto the piano bench, and you collapse onto the floor in front of her, crossing your legs and burying your face in your hands. The story spills out of you in a torrent, the quad, the search for Heeseung, the unexpected appearance of Jungwon, the conversation that made your heart soar, and then the moment Heeseung appeared like a harbinger of doom and casually announced your confession to the one person you never wanted to know about it.

“And then I fell,” you finish miserably. “In front of both of them. And I ran away. And now Jungwon thinks I like Heeseung, and Heeseung thinks I like Heeseung, and I can’t correct either of them without making everything even weirder, and my life is a romantic comedy written by a petty incel.”

Yunjin is quiet for a moment. Then she lets out a long, slow breath. “Okay. That’s... that’s a lot.”

“I know.”

“And you’re telling me you couldn’t just say, hey Heeseung, sorry for the mix-up, the letter wasn’t for you, my bad?”

You look up at her, your eyes rimmed with red. “In front of Jungwon? After Heeseung already told him I confessed? What would Jungwon think of me?”

Yunjin considers this. “That you’re a disaster, probably.”

“Exactly!”

“But a lovable disaster,” she adds. “Disasters can be endearing.”

“Yunjin, please focus.”

She holds up her hands in surrender, but there’s a glint in her eye that you recognize, the one that means she’s about to drop some wisdom on you whether you’re ready for it or not. Yunjin has been your best friend since orientation week, when you both accidentally joined the wrong club meeting and ended up spending two hours in a competitive gardening seminar before realizing your mistake. She’s practical where you’re dreamy, decisive where you’re hesitant, and she’s talked you down from approximately four hundred anxiety spirals since the semester started. If anyone can find a way out of this mess, it’s her.

“Okay,” she says, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. “Let me present you with an alternative perspective.”

“I’m listening.”

“Lee Heeseung,” she says, ticking off points on her fingers, “has a reputation. A big one. Everyone knows it. He’s the guy who’s super nice to everyone, especially girls, and then they fall for him and he gets all surprised when they expect something more, and then things fizzle out because he wasn’t looking for anything serious.” She makes air quotes with her fingers. “Sound familiar?”

You blink. “I mean... I’ve heard things. But he didn’t seem like-”

“That’s his whole thing,” Yunjin interrupts. “He doesn’t seem like it. That’s why it works. He likes when everyone is after him. But nice doesn’t equal interested, so girls get the wrong idea and then they get hurt. It’s a cycle.” She pops a tapioca pearl into her mouth and chews thoughtfully. “My point is, you don’t need to do anything. You don’t need to fix this. You just need to wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For him to get bored.” She says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Think about it. You’re not actually interested in him, right? You’re not going to fall all over yourself trying to get his attention. You’re not going to be waiting outside his classes or accidentally showing up wherever he hangs out. You’re not going to be like every other girl who’s chased after him.”

You frown. “So... what, I just... do nothing?”

“No, you do the opposite of chasing.” Yunjin grins, and it’s slightly wicked. “You make yourself as uninteresting to him as possible. You’re awkward, you’re weird, you’re clearly not trying to impress him. You don’t dress up when you know you might see him. You talk about boring things. You mention, I don’t know, your extensive collection of vintage stamps or whatever nerdy hobby you can think of. You make yourself boring.”

“I don’t have a stamp collection.”

“Then make one up! The point is, Heeseung is used to girls who want him. If you clearly don’t want him, his interest is going to fizzle out faster than a cheap sparkler. He’ll move on to the next girl who bats her eyelashes at him, and you’ll be free. No confrontation necessary.”

You turn this over in your mind. It’s... not the worst idea you’ve ever heard. In fact, compared to your current strategy of blind panic and tactical fleeing, it’s practically genius. If you can’t correct the misunderstanding without making everything worse, maybe you can just... let it die on its own. Let Heeseung’s fabled short attention span work in your favor. Become so aggressively unappealing that he loses interest within a week and never thinks about you again.

And once he’s out of the picture, once enough time has passed, maybe you can try again with Jungwon. Properly. With better aim.

“You’re a genius,” you tell Yunjin, the hope creeping back into your voice. “An absolute genius. I could kiss you.”

“Please don’t, you’re covered in grass stains.” She nudges one of the bubble teas toward you with her foot. “Drink your tea. Hydrate. And then we’re going to brainstorm all the ways you can make yourself seem as unappealing as possible to a hot third-year informatics student.”

You grab the drink and take a long sip, the sweetness settling something in your chest. For the first time in three days, you feel something other than panic. You feel strategic. You feel determined. Lee Heeseung might think you’re cute and brave and worthy of a coffee date, but he hasn’t met the version of you that’s about to emerge, a version so bland, so uninteresting, so aggressively mediocre that he’ll run in the opposite direction before the week is out.

“Okay,” you say, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Okay. Let’s do this. Operation Make Heeseung Uninterested starts now.”

Yunjin raises her bubble tea in a toast. “To being boring.”

You clink your cup against hers. “To being boring.”

Somewhere across campus Heeseung is still standing in the quad with a confused expression on his face and a lavender envelope in his pocket, wondering why the girl who supposedly has a crush on him just sprinted away like she was being chased by bears.

He’s not used to this. He’s not used to any of this.

And that, he realizes with a small, bemused shake of his head, is exactly what makes it so interesting.

—————

Operation Make Heeseung Uninterested lasted exactly four days before it encountered its first major obstacle.

That obstacle is approximately six feet tall, has flowing hair that falls perfectly across his forehead, and is currently walking directly toward your table in the cafeteria with a tray in his hands and a smile on his face that suggests he has absolutely no idea he's supposed to be losing interest in you.

You spot him approximately 2.3 seconds too late. By the time your brain registers the approaching danger, you are already mid-bite into a sad cafeteria sandwich, your mouth full of bread and lettuce and the dawning realization that you are trapped. There is no escape route. Your table is in the corner, surrounded on three sides by walls and on the fourth side by Heeseung's rapidly approaching form. You are a cornered animal. A very stupid, very panicked cornered animal with mayonnaise on her chin.

"Y/N!" Heeseung says your name like it's his favorite word, bright and warm and entirely too enthusiastic for someone who's supposed to be a notorious womanizer with a short attention span. "I was hoping I'd run into you. Mind if I sit?"

Mind if he sits? Of course you mind. You mind immensely. You mind with every fiber of your being. Sitting with Heeseung is the exact opposite of what Operation Make Heeseung Uninterested is supposed to accomplish. Sitting with Heeseung means talking to Heeseung, and talking to Heeseung means opportunities to accidentally charm him, and charming him is categorically Not The Goal.

But Heeseung is already pulling out the chair across from you, and his smile is so genuine, and there's a tiny bit of what looks like grease on his cheekbone that suggests he's just come from some kind of engineering lab, and you are weak. You are so, so weak.

"Go ahead," you hear yourself say, and then immediately want to punch yourself in the face.

Operation Make Heeseung Uninterested, Day Four, 12:34 PM: catastrophic failure already in progress.

Heeseung settles into the chair with an easy grace, setting his tray down and immediately stealing one of your fries like you're old friends who share food on a regular basis. You watch the fry disappear into his mouth and feel a small part of your soul leave your body.

"So," he says, leaning back and studying you with those dark, unreadable eyes. "You ran away from me pretty fast the other day. Should I be worried? Do I have something on my face?"

He doesn't. He absolutely doesn't. He has the kind of face that belongs on a billboard, all sharp angles and soft edges and that one little mole on his forehead that you are definitely not noticing because noticing things about Heeseung's face is counterproductive to the mission.

"No," you say quickly. "No, you're fine. Your face is fine. I mean, you don't have anything on your face. I just remembered I had somewhere to be. Very suddenly. It was urgent."

"An urgent… lab class?" Heeseung's lips twitch. "That's what you said, right? An urgent lab class on a Thursday afternoon?"

Your face heats. "Yes. Exactly. Lab class. Very urgent. Science doesn't wait."

"Mmm." He pops another one of your fries into his mouth. "Well, the good news is, you don't look like you're in a hurry right now. So we can actually talk. You know, like normal people who are supposedly getting to know each other?"

Right. Getting to know each other. Because you confessed to him. Because he thinks you like him. Because you're living in an elaborate lie of your own making.

This is your chance, though. This is the perfect opportunity to implement Phase One of the Make Him Uninterested plan: Be Weird and Off-Putting. You just have to be the most boring, strange, unappealing version of yourself that you can possibly imagine. How hard can it be?

Pretty hard, as it turns out, because your brain chooses this exact moment to go completely blank.

"So," Heeseung says, apparently unbothered by your silence, "tell me about yourself. What do you like to do for fun? Besides writing beautiful love letters and then running away from the recipient?"

You choke on your own saliva. Just… straight up choke on nothing, like a cartoon character. "I don't…that wasn't…I do normal things. Normal fun things. Like… watching paint dry. And counting ceiling tiles. Very relaxing. You should try it."

Heeseung's expression flickers, confusion, amusement, something in between. "Counting ceiling tiles?"

"There are forty-seven in this cafeteria," you say, doubling down with the desperate energy of someone who has already committed to the bit. "Forty-eight if you count the one that's partially covered by that vent over there. But some people don't count partial tiles. It's a philosophical debate, really."

"Fascinating," Heeseung says, and the worst part is that he sounds like he actually means it. "What else?"

What else? What else can you say that will make you sound completely unappealing? You cast around for inspiration, your eyes landing on your sandwich. Okay. Fine. If words can't do the job, maybe actions can.

You pick up your sandwich with both hands and take the weirdest bite you can physically manage, mouth open slightly too wide, chewing with exaggerated jaw movements, making an unfortunate amount of noise in the process. You feel like a cow. You look like a cow. You are embodying the spirit of a cow, and surely, surely, this is enough to make any self-respecting hot informatics student run for the hills.

Heeseung watches you chew. His expression doesn't change.

"Good sandwich?" he asks mildly.

"Mmf," you say, still chewing, still being a cow. "Very good. I love-"

And then the lettuce hits the back of your throat.

You don't know how it happens. One moment you're chewing normally, well, abnormally, but in a controlled way and the next moment a piece of lettuce stages a rebellion and lodges itself directly in your windpipe. Your eyes go wide. Your hand flies to your throat. You make a sound that is somewhere between a wheeze and a honk.

"Y/N?" Heeseung's amused expression shifts to concern. "Are you okay?"

You are not okay. You are choking. You are choking on lettuce in front of Lee Heeseung in the middle of the cafeteria, and this is how you're going to die.

Heeseung is on his feet now, moving around the table with surprising speed. "Hey, hey, can you breathe? Do you need me to-"

You shake your head frantically, still making dying cow noises, and grab your water bottle with shaking hands. The first gulp does nothing. The second gulp, by some miracle, dislodges the lettuce just enough for you to cough it up into a napkin with all the grace and dignity of a cat hacking up a hairball.

Silence.

The entire cafeteria, you're convinced, is staring at you. In reality, probably only a few nearby tables have noticed, but it feels apocalyptic. You sit there, red-faced and teary-eyed, clutching a napkin full of your own near-death experience, and want the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

Heeseung kneels beside your chair, one hand hovering near your shoulder like he isn't sure if touching you would be welcome. "Hey. You're okay. You're okay, right? Do you need me to get you anything? More water? A doctor? A new sandwich without lettuce?"

His voice is gentle. Genuinely gentle. Not the smooth, charming tone you expect from someone with his reputation, but something softer, something that sounds almost like real concern.

"I'm fine," you croak, your voice ravaged. "I'm fine. That happens. All the time. I'm very bad at eating. It's one of my traits."

"One of your traits," Heeseung repeats, and the corner of his mouth twitches despite his obvious worry. "Being bad at eating?"

"It's a lifestyle choice."

He laughs. Not a polite chuckle or a mocking snicker, but a real laugh, surprised and bright and completely unguarded. He sits back down in his chair, shaking his head, and looks at you with something that is definitely not boredom or disinterest.

"You're really something else, you know that?"

You don't know how to respond to that, so you don't. You just sit there, still clutching your napkin of shame, and wonder how Operation Make Heeseung Uninterested has somehow resulted in him laughing at your jokes and looking at you like you're the most entertaining thing he's encountered all week.

"So," Heeseung says, propping his chin on his hand, "I've been wondering. What made you decide to confess to me? Was there a specific moment? Something I did?"

Oh no.

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

This is the worst possible question he could ask. You can't tell him the truth…I didn't mean to confess to you, I meant to confess to your friend, you just happened to be sitting in the wrong place at the wrong time, please don't hate me…but you also can't just… not answer. He's looking at you expectantly, his dark eyes curious and open, and you have approximately three seconds to come up with a convincing lie before the silence becomes too awkward to recover from.

"Your… kindness," you say, grasping at straws. "You're very… kind. To everyone. I noticed."

Heeseung tilts his head. "My kindness?"

"Very kind," you repeat, nodding vigorously. "So kind. The kindest. I saw you… hold a door open for someone once. It was… inspiring."

"I held a door open."

"A door. Yes. It was a very heavy door. And you held it. For a long time. Multiple people went through. It was very impressive."

Heeseung stares at you for a moment, and you stare back, your face burning, your soul evacuating your body. This is it. This is the moment he realizes you are completely unhinged and decides to never speak to you again. This is the victory of Operation Make Heeseung Uninterested.

"That's…" Heeseung starts, and then pauses. "That's the first time anyone's ever confessed to me because I held a door open. Usually I get compliments about my face. Or my voice. One girl told me I had a nose made to be sat on, which I still don't fully understand."

"Your node is… fine," you say weakly. "I didn't notice your nose. Or your face at all. Just the door. The door was the important part."

"A door," Heeseung says, and that smile is spreading across his face again, the one that makes him look less like a notorious player and more like someone who has just found a particularly entertaining puzzle. "You wrote me a three-page love letter because I held a door open."

"The calligraphy alone took a week," you say, and immediately regret it.

Heeseung laughs again, and this time it's softer, almost wondering. "You're not what I expected," he says. "At all."

"Is that… good or bad?"

"I haven't decided yet." But he's still smiling, and his eyes are still fixed on you with that curious intensity, and you're starting to get the sinking feeling that everything you do, no matter how strange or off-putting you try to be, is having the exact opposite effect of what you intend.

You need a new strategy. Something foolproof. Something so aggressively unappealing that even the most determined people-pleaser can't pretend to be interested.

And then, like a gift from the gods of social awkwardness, the topic of video games comes up.

Heeseung mentions something about blowing off steam after a tough assignment by playing a few rounds of something, and the question slips out before you can stop it: "Wait, do you play League of Legends?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Sometimes. You?"

And that's it. That's the moment the dam breaks.

You don't mean to start geeking out. It just happens. One moment you're thinking be boring, be uninteresting, be bland, and the next moment you're fifteen minutes deep into an impassioned monologue about the current meta, the problems with the jungle role, and why Riot Games needs to nerf a specific champion into the ground before she single-handedly destroys the competitive scene.

"-and don't even get me started on the new items, because the balance team clearly doesn't play their own game, which is fine, whatever, it's not like I have strong opinions about it except I absolutely do, and I wrote an entire essay about it on the subreddit that got like two thousand upvotes, so clearly I'm not the only one who thinks the armor penetration scaling is completely broken-"

You stop.

You stop because you have just realized, with dawning horror, that you have been talking for an incredibly long time without letting Heeseung get a single word in. You have been gesticulating. You have been making sound effects. At one point, you're pretty sure you drew a diagram on a napkin to illustrate the optimal jungle pathing route.

This is it. This is definitely, absolutely it. There is no way a hot third-year informatics student wants to listen to a first-year STEM girl rant about video game balance for fifteen straight minutes. Operation Make Heeseung Uninterested has just achieved its first genuine success.

You brace yourself for the polite excuse, the awkward glance at his phone, the slow backing away.

Instead, Heeseung leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and says: "Okay, but hear me out, what if the armor penetration scaling isn't the problem, and it's actually the base damage values that need to be adjusted? Because if you look at the win rate data across different elos, the issue isn't consistent at all levels of play."

You blink.

"I main ADC," he adds, as if this is a perfectly normal confession. "So trust me, I feel your pain about the jungle situation. Do you know how many times I've been left to solo dragon because my jungler was AFK farming? Too many. Too many times."

"You… main ADC?"

"Vayne and Kai'Sa mostly. Sometimes Jhin if I'm feeling dramatic."

You have no response to this. Your brain has short-circuited somewhere around the phrase "win rate data across different elos," and it's still rebooting.

"Your essay on the subreddit," Heeseung continues, pulling out his phone. "What was the title? I want to read it. I love seeing well-reasoned arguments about game balance, and honestly, most of what gets posted is just people complaining without any actual data to back it up."

"It was… it was called The Current State of Armor Penetration: A Statistical Analysis and Why I'm Losing My Mind," you say faintly.

Heeseung types something into his phone, scrolls for a moment, and then his face lights up. "Found it. Two thousand three hundred upvotes and fourteen awards? That's impressive. Wait, you made graphs? You made graphs?"

"I was very passionate about the subject."

"Passionate," Heeseung repeats, looking up from his phone with an expression you can't quite read. "Yeah. I'm starting to get that about you."

He tucks his phone away and smiles at you, and it isn't the smooth, practiced smile you expect from the campus womanizer. It's something smaller. Something realer. Something that makes your stomach do a weird, traitorous flip that you immediately try to suppress.

"You know," he says, tilting his head as he studies you, "you remind me of a mouse."

Your brain screeches to a halt. "A… mouse?"

"Yeah. A little field mouse. The way your nose scrunches up when you're thinking, and how you get all twitchy and skittish when you're nervous. It's cute. It's really cute."

Cute. He calls you cute. He compares you to a rodent and somehow makes it sound like a compliment, and worst of all, worst of all, you can feel a traitorous blush spreading across your cheeks like wildfire.

"I'm not…I don't…mice are not cute. Mice are pests. They carry diseases. I'm basically a health hazard."

Heeseung laughs, and it's the same genuine laugh from before, and he's looking at you like you're the most entertaining thing he's seen in years. "A health hazard. Right. Well, consider me warned."

He stands up, gathering his tray, and for one beautiful, hopeful moment, you think the ordeal is over. But then he pauses, looking down at you with that unreadable expression, and says the words that haunt you for the rest of the day:

"I was interested before, but now?" He shakes his head, still smiling. "Now I'm really interested. See you around, little mouse."

And then he walks away, leaving you alone at your corner table with a half-eaten sandwich, a napkin full of regurgitated lettuce, and the sinking realization that Operation Make Heeseung Uninterested is not only failing, it's backfiring spectacularly.

You try to be weird, and he calls you cute.

You try to be boring, and he engages with your niche gaming opinions.

You try to choke to death in front of him, and he kneels beside your chair with genuine concern in his eyes.

You bang your forehead against the cafeteria table once, twice, three times, not caring who sees. This is a disaster. This is an unmitigated, unprecedented, absolutely catastrophic disaster. Hana's plan was supposed to work. Heeseung was supposed to get bored. He was supposed to move on. He was not supposed to look at you like you're a puzzle he wants to solve, or call you a mouse in a tone of voice that makes your heart do gymnastics, or read your League of Legends essay and compliment your graphs.

You need to regroup. You need to call an emergency meeting with Yunjin. You need to figure out a new strategy before this situation spirals even further out of control.

But first, you need to go to the library and return the books that are due today before you accrue another fine, because no matter how catastrophic your love life becomes, the university library shows no mercy.

—————

The library is your sanctuary. It always has been, a quiet, climate-controlled haven where the smell of old paper and the soft hum of fluorescent lights can soothe even the most tensed of nerves. After the cafeteria incident, you need sanctuary more than ever. You slip through the main doors with your stack of books clutched to your chest, inhaling the familiar scent of knowledge and dust, and feel some of the tension begin to ease from your shoulders.

Everything is fine. Everything is going to be fine. You return your books, you find Yunjin, you regroup, and you figure out a way to-

"Y/N?"

The voice comes from somewhere to your left, and you know that voice. You know it the way a flower knows the sun, the way a compass knows north, the way a hopeless romantic knows the exact cadence of her crush's greeting.

Jungwon is sitting at a table near the history section, surrounded by a fortress of textbooks and loose papers. He's wearing glasses…glasses…and his hair is slightly mussed from what you assume is hours of intense studying, and he's looking at you with that smile, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes your entire nervous system short-circuit.

"Hey," he says, waving you over. "What are you doing here?"

Existing in the same space as you, you think. Breathing the same air. Trying not to spontaneously combust.

"Returning books," you say, holding up your stack as evidence. "I have some overdue ones. The library fines are no joke."

"Tell me about it. I had to pay fifteen thousand won last semester because I forgot about a book I'd checked out for a research paper." Jungwon winces at the memory. "My wallet still hasn't recovered."

"That's brutal."

"The library giveth, and the library taketh away."

You laugh, and it comes out surprisingly normal, not too loud, not too high-pitched, just a regular human laugh from a regular human person who is definitely not having an internal meltdown about how good Jungwon looks in glasses.

"Hey," Jungwon says, glancing at the empty chair across from him, "if you're not in a hurry, do you want to study together? I've been here for three hours and my brain is starting to melt. It would be nice to have some company."

Your heart stops.

Yang Jungwon, the Yang Jungwon, the owner of the smile and the laugh and the gummy bears at 2 AM is asking you to study with him. This is the kind of moment you've daydreamed about for months. This is a meet-cute in progress. This is the universe throwing you a lifeline after the cafeteria disaster, a chance to actually spend time with the boy you've been pining over since midterms.

"Yes," you say, before your brain can remind you of all the reasons this is a terrible idea. "Yes, I'd…I'd love to. Let me just return these first."

You practically skip to the returns desk, your heart doing a full backflip in your chest. By the time you make it back to Jungwon's table, your philosophy textbook and notebook spread out in front of you, you've convinced yourself that this is exactly what you need. Some time with Jungwon. Some time to remember why you wrote that letter in the first place. Some time to reconnect with the feelings that got buried under the chaos of the Heeseung situation.

The only problem is that you can't focus on studying at all.

You try. You really, genuinely try. You open your textbook to the assigned chapter. You uncap your highlighter. You fix your eyes on the page and attempt to absorb information about ethical frameworks and moral philosophy. But your eyes keep drifting up, against your will, over the top of your book, to the boy sitting across from you.

Jungwon is studying. Actually studying, not fake studying, not pretending to study while secretly watching you the way you're watching him. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his pen moving steadily across his notebook as he takes notes. Every so often, he pauses, taps the end of his pen against his chin, and then resumes writing with renewed focus. The late afternoon light slants through the window behind him, catching the highlights in his dark hair and making him look like he's stepped out of a painting.

He is beautiful. He's so beautiful that it makes your chest ache, a soft, sweet ache that you've been carrying around since the moment you first saw him in this very library. You watch the way his fingers curl around his pen, the way he bites his lower lip when he's thinking, the way his glasses slide down his nose and he pushes them back up with an absent gesture.

"I can feel you looking at me," Jungwon says, not glancing up from his notebook.

Your entire body jolts like you've been electrocuted. "I wasn't…I was just…there's a clock behind you. I was checking the time."

Jungwon looks up then, and there's a knowing glint in his eyes that makes your stomach do a slow, somersaulting flip. "The clock is to your right, Y/N. Not behind me."

You look to your right. Sure enough, there's the clock, hanging on the wall in plain view, which you would have noticed if you'd spent even one second actually looking for it instead of gazing at Jungwon's face like a Renaissance painter studying their muse.

"I'm… directionally challenged," you say weakly.

"Uh-huh." Jungwon sets down his pen, and the smile playing at the corners of his mouth is soft and teasing and absolutely devastating. "Come here for a second."

"What?"

"Just come here. Lean forward a little."

Your body obeys before your brain can intervene. You lean across the table, your heart hammering so loudly you're certain the entire library can hear it. Jungwon leans forward too, closing the distance between you, and you catch a faint whiff of something clean and subtle, laundry detergent, maybe, or the kind of fragrance that just smells like him.

His hand reaches out, and before you can process what's happening, his index finger gently pokes your cheek.

"Boop," he says.

You make a sound. You don't know what the sound is supposed to be. Maybe a laugh, maybe a question, maybe a plea for mercy. What comes out is something closer to a squeak, a small, strangled, completely undignified squeak that would be embarrassing if you had any brain cells left to feel embarrassment.

Jungwon's smile widens, and his finger lingers on your cheek for just a moment longer than necessary. "You had an eyelash," he says. "Right there. But also, you just looked really cute staring at me like that. I couldn't resist."

Cute. He calls you cute. That's twice in one day that a devastatingly attractive boy has called you cute, and your hopeless romantic heart doesn't know whether to celebrate or go into cardiac arrest.

"I wasn't staring," you whisper, but it comes out completely unconvincing.

"You were absolutely staring." Jungwon withdraws his hand, but his smile stays, warm and fond and knowing. "It's okay. I don't mind. It's kind of nice, actually. Being looked at like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm something worth looking at."

The words settle into your chest like a stone dropping into still water, sending ripples through your entire body. He thinks it's nice. He thinks you're nice or at least your staring is nice and he pokes your cheek and calls you cute and now he's going back to his studying like he hasn't just fundamentally altered your brain chemistry.

You try to return to your textbook. The words swim in front of your eyes, meaningless and blurry. You highlight a sentence at random, realize you have no idea what it says, and highlight it again for good measure. The page is now approximately forty percent highlighter ink.

"You're going to run out of highlighter at that rate," Jungwon observes, not looking up.

"I have backups," you say. "I always have backups."

"Of course you do."

The studying session continues for another hour, and you absorb approximately zero information about ethical frameworks. What you do absorb is a comprehensive catalogue of Jungwon's study habits: the way he organizes his notes with color-coded tabs, the way he mutters to himself when he's working through a difficult concept, the way he absentmindedly drums his fingers against the table when he's thinking. Every detail is another entry in your mental Jungwon database, another thread in the tapestry of your affection.

By the time you pack up your things and say goodbye, "See you in philosophy," Jungwon says, and you respond with something that might be words or might be a series of enthusiastic nods, you are floating. You are literally, physically floating, your feet barely touching the ground as you drift out of the library and across campus toward your dorm.

Jungwon pokes your cheek. Jungwon calls you cute. Jungwon says he likes being looked at by you.

You are winning. Despite the Heeseung disaster, despite the cafeteria catastrophe, despite everything, you are winning.

By the time you reach your dorm room, you are a mess of giddy energy with nowhere to go. You close the door behind you, throw your backpack onto your desk chair, and then proceed to wriggle across your bed like an ecstatic worm, kicking your feet and muffling your squeals into your pillow.

"He called me cute," you whisper to your empty room, your voice muffled by fabric. "He poked my cheek. He did the boop thing. The boop thing, you guys. Who does the boop thing? Adorable people, that's who. Perfect people. People with beautiful smiles and kind eyes and-"

You roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling with a dreamy expression. The ceiling has forty-three tiles in your room. You counted them on your first night in the dorm. But right now, all you can see is Jungwon's face, the way he looked at you across the library table, the way his finger felt against your cheek, the way his voice went soft when he said like I'm something worth looking at.

You are going to marry him. You are going to marry Yang Jungwon and have a beautiful wedding with string lights and wildflowers and a three-tier cake, and you will tell the story of how you stared at him in the library and he poked your cheek and-

You stop wriggling.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

You can't marry Jungwon. You can't even confess to Jungwon, because Jungwon thinks you confessed to Heeseung. Jungwon thinks you're interested in someone else. Jungwon was sweet and friendly and maybe a little bit flirty, but that's just his personality. He's nice to everyone. He gives you gummy bears at 2 AM; he probably gives gummy bears to everyone who looks tired. You aren't special. You are just… there.

The giddiness begins to drain out of you, replaced by the familiar weight of reality. You are still trapped in the Heeseung situation. You are still the girl who confessed to the wrong person. And no matter how many times Jungwon pokes your cheek, that fundamental fact isn't going to change.

With a heavy sigh, you drag yourself through your evening routine: shower, skincare, the episode of the baking show you're halfway through and finally crawl into bed around midnight, your emotions a tangled knot of hope and despair.

Sleep comes slowly, a gradual descent into darkness, and then-

—————

You are in the PC room again.

But this time it's different. The lights are dimmer, the computers all dark, the chairs empty. It's just you, and the door is swinging shut behind you, and there's someone waiting at the computer closest to the door.

Heeseung.

He's sitting in the chair, facing away from you, his headphones around his neck and his shoulders relaxed. When he hears your footsteps, he turns, and his expression isn't surprised or amused or curious. It's something else entirely. Something darker. Something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You're here," he says, and his voice is lower than you've ever heard it, a rumble that vibrates through your bones. "I've been waiting for you, little mouse."

"I'm not-" you start, but he's already standing, already moving toward you, and you can't seem to make your feet work. You're rooted to the spot, watching him approach with a mixture of fear and something else, something you don't want to name.

He stops inches away from you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, close enough that you can see the individual strands of his hair and the curve of his lips and the way his eyes, God, his eyes are fixed on your mouth.

"You know what I've been thinking about?" he murmurs, and one of his hands comes up to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering against your temple. "I've been thinking about that letter. The way you said you only had eyes for me. The way you said you couldn't stop thinking about me."

"That wasn't-" you try, but your voice comes out as barely a whisper, and Heeseung's thumb is tracing along your jawline now, feather-light and devastating.

"I can't stop thinking about you either," he says, and his face is getting closer, closer, and you can feel his breath against your lips. "Do you want to know what I think about?"

Your heart is hammering. Your skin is on fire. You can't move, can't speak, can't do anything except stare up at him with wide eyes as his other hand settles on your waist, warm and solid and pulling you closer.

"I think about this," he whispers, and then his mouth is on yours.

The kiss is…it's…

It's intense. It's consuming. It's the kind of kiss that erases every rational thought from your brain and replaces it with pure, unfiltered sensation. His lips are soft but insistent, moving against yours with a confidence that makes your knees weak. His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you make a sound against his mouth, something small and breathless and completely involuntary.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his voice is rough. "You’re what I’ve been looking for my whole life, Y/N. You’re my miracle."

And then his lips are on your neck, trailing fire down to your collarbone, and your head falls back, and his name escapes your mouth in a way you've never said it before-

He kneels before you, his movements fluid and deliberate. His eyes never leave yours as he unzips his jeans, freeing his already hard cock. It stands proud and thick, the tip glistening with pre-cum. He takes your foot in his warm hand, bringing it to his shaft.

"Look what you do to me," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. He wraps your foot around his length, his thumb pressing against your arch as he begins to move your foot up and down his cock. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, a low groan escaping his lips.

The sensation of his hot skin against your sole sends shivers through your body. You watch, mesmerized, as he uses your foot to pleasure himself, his hips thrusting in rhythm with the movements of your foot. His other hand moves to your ankle, his grip firm but gentle, his fingers stroking your sensitive skin.

His eyes open, locking with yours again, and the intensity in his gaze makes your breath catch. "You're so beautiful," he breathes, his movements becoming faster, more urgent. "You’re perfect the way you are."

His breathing grows ragged, his muscles tensing. With a guttural moan, he comes, his hot release spilling over your foot and his hand. He leans forward, his tongue darting out to taste his own cum from your skin, his movements slow and sensual. He licks your foot clean, his tongue tracing patterns on your arch, between your toes, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Then he shifts, positioning himself between your legs. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "I need to taste you," he says, his voice rough with need.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. He tosses them aside, then leans in, his breath hot against your most sensitive flesh.

His tongue flicks out, teasing your clit, and you gasp, your hands flying to his hair. He chuckles, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure through you. "Patience, little mouse," he murmurs against your skin.

His tongue moves in slow, deliberate circles, building your pleasure gradually. He alternates between broad, flat strokes and quick, precise flicks of his tongue against your clit. His fingers join in, one, then two, sliding inside you, curling to hit that spot that makes you cry.

Your hips buck against his face, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Heeseung," you moan, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He responds with increased enthusiasm, his tongue working faster, his fingers pumping in and out of you. The pressure builds inside you, a coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter until it snaps.

You come with a cry, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure wash over you. But Heeseung doesn't stop. He continues his assault on your senses, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony to bring you to the edge again.

And then you are squirting, your release flooding his mouth and chin as he drinks you in, his movements never faltering. He looks up at you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he laps up every drop.

When he finally pulls away, his face glistening with your juices, he crawls up your body, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and the intimacy of it sends another wave of desire through you.

"Tell me you’re only thinking of me," he whispers against your lips, his hands roaming your body. "and not Jungwon."

You wake up.

You wake up in your dorm room, in your bed, at 7:43 AM on a Tuesday morning, with your heart pounding and your skin flushed, your panties soaked and your sheets twisted around your legs like they've been through a battle.

For a long moment, you just lie there, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe.

Did you just… did you just dream about… did Lee Heeseung, the guy you're supposed to be making uninterested in you, the guy you've been trying to avoid and ignore and repel, just star in what can only be described as an extremely obscene dream? The virgin you are just cringed at the memory.

You press your hands to your burning cheeks and let out a sound that is somewhere between a groan and a scream.

"No," you whisper to the empty room. "No, no, no. This isn't, this can't…I don't even like him. I like Jungwon. Jungwon! I've liked Jungwon for four months. I wrote a letter to Jungwon. I have a color-coded mental database of Jungwon's habits. I want to marry Jungwon and have a three-tier wedding cake with wildflowers!"

But your brain, traitorous and unhelpful, keeps replaying fragments of the dream, the way Heeseung's eyes go dark, the way his voice rumbles against your ear, the way his hand feels on your waist, the way his tongue is warm and-

You grab your pillow and press it over your face, screaming into it with all the force your lungs can muster.

This is wrong. This is so, so wrong. You are a Jungwon girl. You've always been a Jungwon girl. You don't think about Heeseung like that. You don't think about Heeseung like anything. Heeseung is an obstacle. Heeseung is a problem to be solved. Heeseung is the guy you're actively trying to repel, not the guy who shows up in your subconscious and does things that make you blush in the privacy of your own bed.

"I'm a psychopath," you say to your pillow. "I'm a complete and utter psychopath. Who dreams about this with a guy they're supposed to be making uninterested? A psychopath, that's who. A deranged lunatic. A person with a broken brain."

Your pillow, predictably, does not respond.

You drag yourself out of bed and into the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face and avoiding your own reflection in the mirror. You don't want to look at yourself. You don't want to see the evidence of the dream still lingering in your flushed cheeks…and between your legs.

This is a problem. This is a Major Problem with capital letters and possibly a warning siren. You can't afford to be having dreams about Lee Heeseung. You can't afford to be thinking about Lee Heeseung at all. Your entire strategy, Operation Make Heeseung Uninterested depends on you being able to keep a clear head and a steady heart, and neither of those things is going to be possible if your subconscious keeps ambushing you with extremely vivid, extremely inappropriate content.

You need to talk to Yunjin. Immediately. Before your brain can conjure up any more unauthorized imagery.

But as you grab your phone and type out a frantic message, EMERGENCY MEETING REQUIRED IMMEDIATELY CODE RED REPEAT CODE RED, you can't quite shake the lingering sensation from the dream.

The way Heeseung's thumb traces along your jawline.

The way he calls you little mouse in that low, rumbling voice.

The way he says you were perfect the way you were like he means it, like it's true, like he's been into you his whole life and hasn't even known it.

You shake your head violently, flinging droplets of water across the bathroom mirror.

"Nope," you say out loud. "Nope, nope, nope. We're not doing this. We're not thinking about this. We're going to go to class and eat lunch and avoid all tall informatics students, and we're going to get our brain back on the Jungwon track where it belongs."

But even as you say it, even as you try to mean it, a small, treacherous part of you wonders if maybe, just maybe, the Jungwon track isn't the only track worth following anymore.

You shove that thought into a mental box, lock it, and throw away the key.

You have a plan. You have a strategy. You are going to make Heeseung uninterested, and you are going to figure out a way to untangle the misunderstanding, and you are going to end up with Jungwon like you were always supposed to.

The dream is just a dream. It doesn't mean anything. It can't mean anything.

You refuse to let it mean anything.

(But when you catch yourself glancing toward the informatics building on your way to class, you walk a little faster, and you definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent do not wonder what Lee Heeseung is doing right now.)

—————

The dream haunts you for three days.

Not in a supernatural, ghost-in-the-corner kind of way. More in an I-can't-make-eye-contact-with-my-own-reflection kind of way. Every time you close your eyes, fragments of it flicker behind your eyelids like a movie you hadn't asked to watch. The dark PC room. The way Heeseung's voice drops to a rumble. The phantom sensation of his tongue on your clit, his hand on your ankle, his look-

You physically convulse every time the memory resurfaces, which is approximately every forty-five minutes. Your philosophy notes become a graveyard of distracted doodles, half of which look suspiciously like the curve of someone's jaw. You have to throw away an entire page because you accidentally write "little mouse" in the margin instead of "moral relativism."

Yunjin is no help whatsoever.

"So you had a wet dream about the hot guy who you’re supposedly getting bored of," she says over bubble tea the day after the incident, her expression thoroughly unimpressed. "This is a problem because…?"

"Because I don't like him, Yunjin! I like Jungwon! I've liked Jungwon since midterms! Jungwon is the goal! Jungwon is the three-tier wedding cake!"

"And Heeseung is…?"

"A temporary obstacle! A misunderstanding with legs! A very tall, very inconvenient plot twist!"

Yunjin sucks on her tapioca pearls with the air of a therapist who has heard it all before and is no longer surprised by anything. "You know what they say about protesting too much."

"I am not protesting too much. I am protesting exactly the right amount. I am protesting a perfectly calibrated quantity."

"Sure." She pats your hand with condescending sympathy. "Whatever helps you sleep at night. Oh wait-"

You throw a tapioca pearl at her face. It sticks to her cheek for a solid three seconds before falling off, and the look of absolute betrayal on her face is the only bright spot in your otherwise nightmare-plagued week.

But now it's Thursday. Thursday, 2:15 PM. You're stationed in the science building's main hallway, crouched behind a bulletin board that is absolutely not wide enough to hide your entire body, waiting for the coast to clear so you can sprint to your next class without encountering any tall informatics students.

Your system has evolved since the early days of the crisis. You now have a color-coded schedule of Heeseung's known movements, courtesy of some light reconnaissance work that Yunjin calls "stalking" and you call "strategic intelligence gathering." You know his class schedule. You know his preferred study spots. You know that he tends to grab coffee from the campus café at exactly 3 PM on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which means the science building hallway should, theoretically, be a Heeseung-free zone at 2:15.

Theoretically.

You're just about to make your move, a quick dash to the stairwell, then up two flights, then a straight shot to classroom 307, when you hear it.

"Hey, is Y/N L/N in there?"

Your blood freezes. Your muscles lock. Your soul briefly departs your body and then slams back into it with force.

That's Heeseung's voice. That's unmistakably, undeniably, catastrophically Lee Heeseung's voice, and it's coming from approximately ten feet to your left, where the door to your department's main office stands open.

You press yourself harder against the bulletin board, praying for invisibility, praying for a sudden power outage, praying for the ground to open up and swallow you into its merciful embrace. None of these things happen. Instead, you hear the department secretary respond with cheerful obliviousness.

"Y/N L/N? First year, STEM? I think I saw her in the hallway just a minute ago. Let me check, oh, there she is! Y/N! You have a visitor!"

The secretary is pointing directly at your bulletin board. Your bulletin board that is not hiding you at all. Your bulletin board that is, in fact, leaving approximately seventy percent of your body completely visible to anyone who happens to look in that direction.

Heeseung turns.

Your eyes meet.

Time stops.

There are moments in life that feel like they stretch into eternity, moments so profoundly awkward, so cosmically embarrassing, that the universe itself seems to pause and take notice. This is one of those moments. You are frozen in a half-crouch behind a bulletin board, your backpack dangling from one shoulder, your hair escaping from the ponytail you threw it into this morning, your expression one of pure, unfiltered terror. Heeseung is standing in the doorway of the department office, looking unfairly attractive in a simple black hoodie and jeans, his eyebrows rising slowly toward his hairline.

A small crowd of students has paused in the hallway to watch. You can feel their eyes on you like a physical weight. Someone whispers something to their friend. Someone else pulls out their phone.

You are going to die. You are going to perish right here in the science building hallway, and your ghost will be doomed to haunt this bulletin board for all eternity.

"Y/N?" Heeseung's voice is a mixture of confusion and amusement. He takes a step toward you, and you instinctively take a step back, which results in you bumping directly into the bulletin board and causing several flyers to flutter dramatically to the ground. "Were you… hiding behind that?"

"No," you say, too quickly. "No, I was…I dropped something. A contact lens. I was looking for my contact lens."

"You don't wear contacts."

"I might! You don't know my life!"

"Your glasses are literally on your face right now."

You reach up and touch your glasses, which are indeed sitting on your nose, clearly visible, doing their job of correcting your vision. You have no response to this. There is no response to this. You have been caught in a lie so transparent it's essentially a window.

Heeseung's lips twitch. "You know, most people who have a crush on me don't run away and hide behind furniture. This is very confusing for my ego."

The crowd is still watching. Why is the crowd still watching? Don't they have classes to go to? Midterms to study for? Lives to live that don't involve spectating your public humiliation?

"I wasn't hiding from you specifically," you say, because apparently your mouth has decided to operate independently from your brain. "I was hiding from… the sun. It's very bright in here. I'm photosensitive."

"You're a STEM student hiding from the sun in a basement hallway with no windows," Heeseung says slowly. "That's… a new one."

"It's a medical condition. It's very serious. My doctor says I need to avoid direct fluorescent lighting."

"The fluorescent lighting is what's getting you."

"Absolutely. It's my greatest enemy. Well, second greatest. After-" You stop yourself before you can say after incredibly hot informatics students who keep appearing in my life like a recurring nightmare.

Heeseung waits. When you don't finish the sentence, that smile, the one that's definitely a smirk's second cousin, maybe even its first cousin at this point, spreads across his face.

"Well," he says, "now that I've found you and dragged you out of the shadows, literally, I was wondering if you wanted to grab coffee. With me. Right now."

Every single person in the hallway is looking at you. The secretary is looking at you from the office doorway, her expression one of grandmotherly delight at what she clearly perceives as a romantic overture. The students who stopped to watch are exchanging glances and whispers. One girl gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

You are trapped. You are cornered. You are a mouse being offered coffee by a very tall, very persistent cat.

And just like every other time Heeseung has put you on the spot, you open your mouth and the wrong words come out.

"I love coffee," you say. "Coffee is my favorite liquid. After water. And possibly juice. But it's definitely in the top three."

"Is that a yes?"

"…Yes."

Lee Chaeryeong isn't blind to this, immediately pulling you away from the crowd to question the longing gaze on your face. "Out of every fucking guy here with us, you're making eyes at my brother? You do know that Heeseung is completely gross, right?" She was so furious, you're surprised no steam was blowing from her ears.

Deny it all you want (and you certainly did within that fifteen-minute interrogation); Heeseung very clearly had a hold on you that lasted many years following that fateful night. He wasn't even your usual type; he wouldn't be caught dead around the guys you're typically drawn to. He had a rebellious side; maybe that's why getting him out of your head was nearly impossible.

Of course, the eternal guilt of falling for your best friend's older, dumbass brother is also difficult to get out of your head.

It can't be helped, really. Anytime you'd visit their home, your eyes would automatically wander through the crack of his doorway as you'd pass by. Whether he was messily cutting his dark hair while blasting Pierce the Veil from his speakers or giving himself a new Stick-and-Poke tattoo as he waited for a CD to finish burning, you long to break away from Chaeryeong for a moment to speak to him. Ask him about his day or if his band had any upcoming gigs. You'd even talk to him about paint drying if it meant you'd get to be in the same space as him.

So it's safe to say you were completely heartbroken when he left for college. Chaeryeong, however, is over the moon. Or so you think.

"… He's your brother, though. You don't think you're gonna miss him at all?" You ask, watching Chaeryeong delicately paint your fingernails a pretty shade of purple.

She shrugs, "I mean… it's definitely gonna be weird not seeing him around the house every day, but he'll still visit sometimes. Maybe."

Deep down, Chaeryeong knows Heeseung won't visit much. He'd been craving freedom and independence from their parents for ages, and moving away for college gave him the perfect opportunity to live as he pleased. They weren't fond of the clothes he wore or the friends he had, and absolutely couldn't bear the music his band makes. They criticized every little thing about him, and he'd finally be getting a break from them.

As you're about to ask Chaeryeong if she's okay, she stands from her bed, screwing the nail polish closed. "I'll be back. I have to let Bam out." Her voice is shaky, and she doesn't look at you as she exits the room.

You take the opportunity to make your way down the hall and to Heeseung's door, which he has conveniently left wide open as he scrolls on his desktop. His knees are pressed against his chest as he's heavily focused on editing his Facebook page. There's a rock song playing lightly from another tab that you can't quite identify; he uses his free hand to gently tap along to the beat of the music.

His room is covered in cardboard boxes, soon to be packed into his parents' minivan and making their way to the University of San Francisco dorms.

Your knuckles tap on his wooden door, your heart fluttering when he turns around, and you realize he's changed the ring on his lip from black to silver.

He nods at you, "What's up?"

"Nothing. I just know you're leaving in the morning, and I wanted to say bye. And wish you good luck, of course." You're not sure why you're so heartbroken. It's not like the two of you were ever a thing. It's not like this would be your last time seeing him. Why were you so upset?

"Cool, thanks." You assume that was his way of indirectly telling you to get out until he reaches into his desk drawer and says, "Catch," before tossing something towards you.

Careful not to mess up your manicure, you easily catch the item, unfolding what appears to be a purple bandanna. "What's this for?" You ask, inspecting the material in your palms.

"To remember me by, duh. Plus, it matches your nails.”

It'd be silly to tell him you genuinely don't need this because there was no way in hell you could ever forget about him. Instead, you clutch the bandana tightly in your fist and make a silent vow to keep it with you at all times; have a piece of him with you at all times.

You thank him and tell him it's nice, but all you can wonder is why he even wants you to remember him in the first place. Maybe you're overthinking. He probably just didn't care for the useless accessory anymore.

When you turn to leave, Heeseung stops you with a gentle call of your name. He turns his head in your direction, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything." You whisper back, praying you don't sound overly desperate for a more extended interaction with him.

A beat of silence passes, and just as he opens his mouth to respond, Chaeryeong is stomping up the stairs and belting out your name. You gaze away from Heeseung to glance behind you, listening as his sister shouts about doing each other's makeup.

"Never mind, actually. It's not important." Heeseung interrupts, and you physically feel your heart sink to the floor.

You're about to be annoying and pry a response out of him until your eyes dart to his floor, and you see it. What slipped out from his drawer when he tossed the bandana at you.

A condom wrapper. An empty one, at that.

It's embarrassing how quickly your vision becomes glossy, salty tears threatening to release with each passing second. Of course, he's fucking someone. Of course, that person isn't you. Of fucking course.

You shouldn't be surprised; he's probably more into girls with a similar aesthetic. She's probably covered in tattoos and piercings, just like him. She's probably older than you and may even have her own car, unlike you, who still had to catch rides with your parents or older sister.

It's odd, though. You're not entirely naive; you know Heeseung definitely flirts with you here and there, catching his eye when his gaze lingers on you for a second too long. There's a noticeable tension between the two of you that even your parents have teased about. And this whole time, he's been screwing someone else?

Heeseung hangs out with so many girls it'd be useless to even attempt to uncover who this mystery person is. It's none of your business, anyway.

So you leave.

You tell Chaeryeong you'll get grounded if you're home past curfew, and with tear-stained cheeks, you run home.

The following day isn't any easier.

Chaeryeong posted a photo on FaceBook of herself and Heeseung posing together, arms wrapped around each other, with the caption "c u l8r alligator XD". The comments are already flooded with responses wishing Heeseung farewell, some from family members or friends of the siblings.

"Don't 4get abt me!!!!!! >:( "from a girl with red hair catches your eye because it's the only one Heeseung responded to. You can't bring yourself to read his full reply, fingers moving to quickly close the tab after seeing the word 'Never.'

It's probably her, you think to yourself, the one he's sleeping with.

Maybe it's for the best that Heeseung's moving away; it'll give you some time to get over him.

And you most certainly did.

The only time he ever crosses your mind is when Chaeryeong brings him up (which she rarely does) or when you pass by his empty bedroom. Deep down, you know you'll always care for Heeseung on some level, but time away from him was just what you needed. You were too attached to him for no fathomable reason, rejecting any guy interested in you with the premise of being loyal to a guy who didn't even want you. He'd probably been sneaking girls in through his window, with you a few doors down doing magazine quizzes with his sister; blissfully unaware of what was happening down the hall.

You’re better off without him.

That's what you've been telling yourself daily until now. It's the start of summer vacation, and Heeseung's been summoned home to spend it with his family before Chaeryeong (and you) transfer to the University of San Francisco.

Heeseung was hesitant about coming home, as he always is. In constant fear that his parents have some elaborate plan for him to change his major or set him up with someone they deem acceptable, nothing like the girls he hangs around and probably invites back to his dorm.

It took days of convincing until Heeseung finally agreed to come home, under the premise that his parents' intentions were pure and that they simply wanted one last summer together before Chaeryeong moved away for college. They also hoped he'd be able to house-sit and watch over Chaeryeong for a few days as they took their annual anniversary trip to San Diego. That, however, took some bribing and the promise of gas money on their end.

He's not due to arrive until tomorrow morning, and you've convinced yourself there's no reason for you to see him right away. You'd be fine if the next time you saw him was in a few months as you're moving into your dorm. After years of longing, you've finally moved on from him.

Some of you have debated telling Chaeryeong about your past feelings for her brother, but there's no point. It was a one-sided relationship with absolutely zero depth, nothing worth discussing. So when she nudges your side and asks if you're interested in anyone, you reply with a shake of your head.

Chaeryeong has no reaction to this; she can't remember the last time you've been into anyone despite having the entire male population at your school practically throwing themselves at you. "Maybe you'll meet someone tonight."

She's referencing the house party you're going to, which she practically had to drag you out of your room to attend. Parties are different from your scene, especially on a day like today when you were hoping to have a girls' night with Chaeryeong. She had other plans, however.

"Maybe," you respond, sighing as the house you're attending is finally in your viewpoint. "We're not staying long, right? It looks packed."

Cars are parked throughout the street, one house, in particular, being the center of attention with loud music and drunk people decorating the front yard of a suburban-looking home. Chaeryeong looks as ecstatic as ever, looping her arm in yours and picking up her pace. She doesn't respond. It doesn't matter. Her response would've disregarded your concern.

One car catches your eye as you enter the unfamiliar house; it's parked towards the end of the street, and you swear you've been in it before. You're not able to dwell on it for too long, though, because Chaeryeong has to practically yank you through the front door.

Your nerves are at an all-time high. The music is entirely too loud, and there isn't a single sober person in sight. You're not sure how Chaeryeong even found out about this party, but you really wish she would've left you out of it. You'd go now if it were acceptable, but Chaeryeong would've stayed regardless, and you refuse to leave her alone. So, you push your feelings to the side and take her hand as she leads you towards the kitchen.

"Thirsty?" Chaeryeong questions, forcing a red solo cup into your hand.

"Not at all," you respond, sighing as Chaeryeong pours something into your cup.

"It's just ginger ale," she reassures you, "I don't think either of us should get drunk here." For once, she's being reasonable.

Chaeryeong suggests you do a lap around the house in hopes of running into people you may have gone to school with. And to your surprise, a decent amount of your past classmates have decided to attend. You feel more at ease with them around, a bit more comfortable now that you're around recognizable people. Although you initially hesitated to show up, you're glad you did.

"Anybody catch your eye yet? Or are you still breaking hearts?" Your old classmate, Yeoreum, questions.

You shake your head, about to explain that you're not interested in dating right now, until she gestures behind you. "That guy is pretty cute."

You shift on the couch, looking around until you spot who Yeoreum had been gesturing towards. You locate him finally, and she's right; he is cute. He just seems so familiar.

That's when it hits you.

"Oh my God," you whisper, eyes locked on him, and you slowly rise from the couch.

It's Heeseung. And the car you recognized was his. He's here. What is he doing here? He isn't due to be back until tomorrow morning.

You almost don't realize it's him until you spot the mole under his lip. He's grown his hair out and stopped dyeing it, the slew of tattoos that decorated his arm (God, did he start working out, too?) nicely connected, now creating a sleeve, and he's given himself an eyebrow piercing. Your feelings for him come rushing back in full force.

Panicked, you reach for Chaeryeong's hand, but she's nowhere to be found. Careful not to be seen by her brother, you bow your head slightly, passing through a crowd of sweaty bodies until you finally spot her kitty heels. She's leaned against a wall, swirling around her cup while flirting with some guy you'd seen around school a few times.

Creating some much-needed distance between the two, you tug Chaeryeong towards you. "I think I just saw your brother."

"What? No, he won't even be in the city until tomorrow morning."

Frustrated, you quickly search the crowd until your eyes land on him again. You ignore the fact that he's now speaking to some girl with red hair and tattoos scattered across her arm and point in their direction, "Well, then that guy looks just like him."

Chaeryeong squints her eyes in disbelief at the boy in question until the doubt becomes confusion, and the confusion becomes realization. "Oh my God! The fuck is he doing here?" She turns towards you as if you're supposed to have the answer.

"The fuck should I know? You said he wouldn't be here until tomorrow morning!"

"Because that's what he told our parents! How was I supposed to know he was gonna be here? I never would've come if I knew!"

"What are you guys doing here?" A voice you haven't heard in so long interrupts. You don't even want to turn around.

"What are you doing here?" Chaeryeong throws back, and the two stare at each other in angry silence for a moment until Heeseung steps to the side. "Upstairs," he says, nodding towards the staircase.

"But—"

"Go."

Chaeryeong's clearly aggravated but makes her way towards the stairs. You remain in place with your arms crossed, raising a brow in confusion when Heeseung looks at you. "What?"

"You too."

"I'm not—"

"I'm not asking again," he says simply. You convince yourself that you only take his command because you don't feel like fighting. Definitely not because it's interesting to have him boss you around.

Trudging up the stairs behind Chaeryeong, you wait with her in the hallway until Heeseung arrives. "Come on," he says, entering a bathroom and turning the light on. Neither you nor Chaeryeong protest; there really isn't any point.

As soon as the door is shut, Chaeryeong is yelling at the top of her lungs. "What the fuck are you doing here?! You said you wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning! Mom and Dad had to push their trip back just to give you more time to arrive, and you're already fucking here?! The fuck is the matter with you?!"

"I'm not gonna respond if you're gonna be yelling like this." Heeseung says calmly, leaning against the sink, "Let me get my questions out first, then I'll answer any of yours, deal?"

Chaeryeong glances over at you, sitting on the bathtub's edge, and you nod. She returns her attention back to Heeseung, takes a deep breath, then agrees.

"Now, what are you guys doing here?! How'd you even get invited?! And you're drinking?!" The calm demeanor from earlier slips away in a matter of seconds, clearly a hoax just to get Chaeryeong to calm down enough to let him speak.

"It's just ginger ale, and we've barely even had any! We were invited by our friends, okay? We have just as much right to be here as you do."

Heeseung scoffs, clearly unamused. "Right, and I'm assuming Mom and Dad know you're here then, huh?"

Chaeryeong nervously tucks a hair behind her ear. You wonder why you even have to be in here with them. It's not like Heeseung is your brother, anyway.

"We told our parents that we were going to a birthday party at a friend's house." Chaeryeong mumbles, barely able to look Heeseung in the eye.

"And what did they say when they dropped you guys off?"

"They didn't drop us off," you interrupt, "we walked here."

"Well, I wasn't gonna tell him that." Chaeryeong glares at you, it takes every bone in your body to not to laugh at her.

You're so over this. You didn't want to attend this dumb party in the first place, and seeing Heeseung flirting with some girl who could've been his female counterpart was the icing on the cake. It doesn't matter if your feelings for him were gone before tonight; every little emotion you'd felt for him over the years had returned (as if they ever left).

"And how exactly did you two geniuses plan on getting home?"

"Same way we got here."

"Can you please just let me handle this? Jesus Christ…" Chaeryeong shoots another frustrated glare at you, and you can't help but roll your eyes at her. She turns back towards her brother, "Can you answer my questions now?"

Heeseung's eyes anxiously dart around the cramped bathroom, landing on you a few times before he's slowly nodding his head. "Alright, Mom and Dad basically forced me to spend the whole summer here, and I kept asking myself why they were so persistent about it. They finally told me they needed me to watch over you and the house for their stupid trip. I had plans too, you know? That I had to derail for them. My band could've spent this summer touring, making real money, and now we can't. So, they wanna inconvenience me? I'll inconvenience them right back."

"…Inconvenience them by doing what?" Chaeryeong asks the exact question you had.

Heeseung shrugs, "By telling them I'm gonna be arriving a day late, duh."

You and Chaeryeong exchange an awkward glance at one other before silently agreeing not to tease him about it. If this was his badass way of retaliating, who were you to rain on his parade?

"Are you gonna tell anyone you saw us here?" Chaeryeong questions, a noticible tremble in her voice.

"As long as you guys don't tell anyone you saw me."

It's a fair trade, you accept it. You're even more delighted when Heeseung says he's taking the two of you home. Chaeryeong, however, isn't too happy about this, claiming there were so many people she didn't get to speak to, and how'd this be the last time she'd get to see them before moving away for school. You're not sure if Chaeryeong is really good at getting what she wants, or if Heeseung was tired of hearing her complain, but he finally gives in and grants her ten more minutes to socialize before meeting him at his car.

"If you're not at my car in ten minutes, I swear to God I'm calling mom." Heeseung scolds, holding the bathroom door open as the three of you finally exit.

A loud, drunk voice suddenly shouts, "Woah, Heeseung! Two girls at the same time!? You fucking beast!"

"They're my sisters, you fucking pervert!" He shouts back.

You can't even dwell on how disgusting the original comment was, only being able to focus on the fact that Heeseung just referred to you as his sister. As conceited as it may sound, you're not used to rejection or guys putting you in the friend-zone. Whatever little game Heeseung had been playing with you over the years was completely new territory. And right when you think things couldn't possibly get any worse, he calls you his sister.

What the actual fuck.

—

The next ten minutes go by in a blur; Chaeryeong has ditched you for a second time that night to talk to the guy from earlier. When it's finally time to leave, you find her Sat on his lap with her arm hung across his shoulder, laughing at an unfunny pickup line he'd used on her.

"It's time, Chaeryeong," you interrupt, helping her stand.

"Wait, wait, wait," she persists, directing her attention back to the boy, "tomorrow at five, right?"

"And not a second later." He sends her a disgusting wink that makes your skin crawl.

Chaeryeong is so love-struck you're surprised there isn't an arrow lodged in her back. She can barely form a proper sentence, erupting into a fit of giggles every few seconds as you make your way to Heeseung's car. "Wasn't he just gorgeous?"

You shrug, linking arms with her. "He was alright."

Stunned, Chaeryeong gasps at you, "Just alright? He was literally like a Greek God."

"I'm not saying he's unattractive; he's just...not really my type."

"And what is your type, Miss. Never-Has-Been-Interested-In-Anyone?"

Now, there's the question of the hour. You have to word your response very carefully; don't be too obvious about the fact that your ideal type is her older sibling.

"I guess I prefer guys with an edgier look to them, you know? Tattoos, piercings..." Despite your attempt to sound as nonchalant as possible, your heart is beating out of your chest from the mild confession.

Chaeryeong snickers, then playfully groans. "It sounds like you're describing my brother."

Now, you really have to test the waters.

"Since you brought him up, would it be so bad if I did like Heeseung? Hypothetically speaking, of course." You're not sure what prompts you to even ask this. It's not like he's even interested in you; he literally just referred to you as his sister.

A beat of silence passes as Chaeryeong gathers her thoughts, then she says, "No."

"What?"

You've finally reached Heeseung's car at this point, beating him there. You sit atop the trunk, feet hovering above the ground as the cold, nighttime air swirls around you. Chaeryeong shakes her head, "Obviously, it wouldn't be the ideal situation, but I guess I wouldn't mind as long as you talked to me about it first."

"First?" You mimic.

"Like...assuming you'd wanna date him or something. Just so I'm not blindsided, you know?"

This is the last thing you would've expected your impulsive, hotheaded (yet oh-so-loveable) best friend to be reasonable about. Mainly because she lectured you for nearly twenty minutes when she first suspected you had a crush on Heeseung.

You go to respond, but Heeseung, finally arriving at the car, captivates both of your attention. He finishes off his can of Pepsi before crushing the aluminum and tossing it to the ground. "Ready?" He questions.

There's no point in giving him a speech about littering; you're just ready to go home.

He fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks the car door; Chaeryeong opens the backseat and jumps in before you have the chance, sprawling across the aged leather. "Move over," you nudge her foot with your knee; she pulls away from you.

Heeseung calls your name, "Just sit up front. She's not gonna move."

Now, this is new. You've ridden in the backseat of his car with Chaeryeong more times than you can count; he'd never allow either of you to sit shotgun with him; typical annoying older brother bullshit.

Don't make a big deal out of this, you say to yourself, climbing into the passenger seat of his car.

Chaeryeong and Heeseung bicker the entire ride to their parent's house, partially out of annoyance with each other, but you also get the feeling that neither of them were genuinely ready to leave the party. You're surprised Heeseung even enjoyed parties; he spent most of high school either working, hanging out at skate parks, or practicing with his band in their garage. College must've really changed him, and you're unsure how to feel about it.

Heeseung parks a few houses down from their parent's house and unlocks the doors, "Get out," he says into the backseat.

"Where are you gonna spend the night?" Chaeryeong questions, stretching her arms outward.

"I checked into a motel this morning. I'll be back here tomorrow around noon. And, hey," Heeseung turns around, pointing a finger at his sister. "Don't tell them you saw me."

Mockingly, Chaeryeong points a finger right back at him. "Telling them I saw you would be exposing myself, cock-sucker. Leave me alone." She angrily begins to climb out of the car, annoyed at how little trust Heeseung had in her.

You turn to go, but Heeseung's cold hand on your bicep stops you, "Where you goin'?"

"I'm gonna walk home from here. It's only a few minutes away," you respond.

Heeseung shakes his head, "I'm dropping you off. You haven't moved since I left, right?"

"No, but it's fi—"

"Then your house is on the way to my motel. We're going in the same direction; might as well ride together."

It truly does make more sense to ride together, and rejecting his offer any further surely would raise suspicions. You don't want either of them to believe you'd feel uncomfortable being alone with Heeseung because that couldn't be farther from the truth. You're perplexed about your feelings now, and you don't want to do anything you'd regret just because of the confusion.

"Okay, then." You glance over your shoulder at Chaeryeong, "Will you need any help getting ready for your date tomorrow?"

Suddenly embarrassed, Chaeryeong shushes you, gesturing that Heeseung is literally right next to you and would prefer that he didn't hear about her dating life. Heeseung genuinely couldn't care less and is instead patiently waiting for his sister to get out.

She does finally, and Heeseung resumes his path to your house. He turns the radio on, switching between stations until he stops on one that's playing a song he's familiar with. You drive silently for a few minutes; the only sounds being heard are the distant noises from the car's motor and Heeseung humming along to the radio.

He breaks the silence by saying, "I was surprised to see you back there. You never really seemed like the type to enjoy parties."

You chuckle, "I could say the same for you; I don't remember you attending any in high school."

"That's 'cause house parties weren't my thing," he explains, "I went to raves or parties that would happen at the skate park. I don't really like being at someone else's house for too long; it feels too intimate."

Now that you think of it, skate park parties and raves seem much more like his scene.

"Well, I only went because Chaeryeong was going, and I didn't feel comfortable with her being there alone. Otherwise, I never would've gone." You admit, resting your head against the window.

"Thanks for looking after her, by the way. You're a good friend."

"I'd do anything for her." Your voice is barely a whisper now, getting quieter with every word you say.

Silence passes, and he says, "Did you know your guys' dorm room is gonna be right under ours?"

"Seriously?" You respond, genuinely curious.

"Mmm-hmm. My roommate, Sunghoon, and I are gonna be the worst upstairs neighbors ever." He teases as you roll your eyes. Your mind can't decipher whether this banter is playful & platonic or romantic. Everything Heeseung does confuses you.

"If that's the case, I'll be sure to move to an entirely new building."

"What, so you can have your boyfriend protect you?"

Pause. Boyfriend?

You nearly give yourself whiplash from how hard you spun around to look at Heeseung. "Boyfriend?" You ask.

He shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. "I just assumed you'd have one by now. Do you?"

There he is again with his mind games. What the fuck was he talking about?

After letting out a very frustrated sigh, you mumble, "No, Heeseung, I do not have a boyfriend."

"Good. Focus on school."

Now he's pissing you off. You wish he'd shut up for the rest of the car ride. "It's nice to see you again, by the way."

Holy shit, you feel like jumping out the window.

"Yeah, great seeing you too. Oh, there's my house. I can walk from here." You make quick work of undoing your seatbelt.

"You sure? I can drop you off at the door."

"No, no. It's best if my parents don't see you so they don't accidentally tell your parents that they saw you." You lie, racking your brain for any excuse imaginable.

He nods, deciding it's best to drop you off a little further from your house. "Then, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"What?" You stop dead in your tracks, one hand clutching the door handle.

"Aren't you coming over tomorrow to help Chaeryeong get ready for her…thing? I'll be back home by then."

He's right; you'd be back in his house, and he'll be there this time. It's no big deal. You'd only be there for an hour (at most) to help her prepare, and then you could go the whole summer without seeing him again.

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

The following day, Chaeryeong is back to her unreasonable self, expecting you to wait at her house for her to return from her date.

"Please? We're just going to get pizza; we won't even be gone that long." She pleads, adding the finishing touches to her makeup.

You'd already spent over an hour helping her prepare, and now she expects you to do nothing but await her return. You know her heart's in the right place; she just wants to be the first to hear all the exhilarating details about her date. Still, a phone call would suffice.

"What am I supposed to do while I wait for you to come back?" You whine.

"Just hang out here! Watch a movie or something!" She suggests, trying her absolutely hardest to sound enthusiastic. Her phone buzzes in her hand before she has the chance to continue, eyes lighting up as they flicker across the bright screen.

Chaeryeong clutches her phone, locks eyes with you, then rushes towards the door. You're faster, though, quickly capturing her wrist before she's barely reached the hallway. "I'm going home."

"No! If you stay here, I'll bring you back pizza, and we can have a girls' night like we were supposed to yesterday! Come on, please?" She begs, pouting her lips.

You go to reply, but the bathroom door swings open, and Heeseung strides out. Just to your luck, he's shirtless; water droplets descend from his hair as he towel-dries it. As he enters his bedroom, he mocks his sister's high-pitched whine, earning a lethal glare and a slew of swears thrown at him.

Perhaps you should stay.

"Fine, but you're lending me your pajamas." You give in, earning an enthusiastic shriek from your best friend.

Chaeryeong wraps you in a brief, yet tight, hug before shouting, "Be back soon!" Then she's rushing down the stairs and out the front door. It's not often that Chaeryeong makes you wait for her return, but you absolutely despise it whenever it does occur. She's never back by the time she promises and gets upset when you try to call and check up on her.

And speaking of calling, you're sure your phone is dead by now. You insisted Chaeryeong bring her's along just in case, so you're left with one option.

Heeseung's door is wide open (as usual) when you go to knock. He's fully clothed now, pairing his black sweatpants with a matching black t-shirt. His hair appears mostly dry now, chaotic as ever, but dry. You don't think he's ever looked this good before.

He's sat on his bed, flipping through the latest copy of Rolling Stone when you arrive. He glances over at you and lets out a dry chuckle.

"What's so funny?" You ask.

"You're dressed like Bella Swan." He responds casually, eyes raking up and down your body.

"Who?"

"From Twilight. You know, that new movie that came out?" He seems genuinely surprised that you don't seem to know anything about this movie, not even the name of (who you suspect to be) the main character.

You lean against the doorframe, "Haven't seen it."

"It's a great movie, seriously. Some friends and I are seeing it in a few days if you and Chaeryeong wanna come." He suggests, flipping another page in the magazine.

You let him know you'll ask Chaeryeong if she's interested before remembering why you came to his room in the first place and ask if you can borrow his phone charger. Heeseung directs you to where it's plugged up by his desk, and you finally have the chance to stroll further into his room. You can't recall the last time you've been in here, but you know it looks much different than before. Many of the band posters that decorated the room were gone, his random trinkets and piles of clothes were gone, and not a single piece of his CD collection was in sight. It felt so lifeless, so unlike him. No wonder he always dreaded returning home; it probably didn't even feel like home to him.

"So," you say, attempting to break the silence, "you're here for the whole summer, huh?"

"Unfortunately." He mumbles, "Gonna try and go by sooner, convince my parents I have to sort out an issue with my dorm or something."

"It's nice to have you back, though." You admit, watching as Heeseung's gaze locks on yours.

"Yeah? It is?" He questions.

You shrug, "Of course. We practically grew up together; it was weird to not see you all the time."

He sits up now, closing the magazine and tossing it on his nightstand. There's something on his mind that he isn't saying; you can tell from the way his brows knit together and how he's anxiously tugging on his lip piercing. "It was weird to be gone," he mumbles and leaves it at that.

"By the way, I'm sorry about last night." He apologizes.

"For what? Calling me your sister?"

He laughs at this, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to do that on purpose, by the way. That guy was just...so weird, I kinda blurted out the first thing that would've made him feel weird for even thinking that."

Oh. That makes sense. You definitely overreacted.

"I meant," he continues, "I'm sorry if the whole boyfriend assumption thing upset you."

"Oh," you dismissively wave a hand at him, "that was nothing."

Heeseung raises a brow at you, "Are you sure? 'Cause you seemed pretty upset afterward, you were practically running out of my car."

There's no point in lying now, considering you weren't even the slightest bit discrete the previous night.

"If I'm being completely honest, I just felt a little awkward. But that's it, I swear." You assure him, moving to lean against the bedside table.

"Awkward about what?"

God, this was so embarrassing. Is he really going to make you humiliate yourself like this?

"Because I've never actually had a boyfriend before."

Heeseung looks genuinely shocked at your confession, eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he examines yours for any sign of deception. "You don't believe me?"

"I'm not sure. I only assumed you had one just based on how crazy guys were about you in high school. Not to mention you're, like, fucking gorgeous."

What?

"I'm what?" You ask, not entirely sure if you heard him correctly.

He repeats himself again, and you make him do it a few more times until he's too embarrassed to say it again. You somehow manage to get back on the topic of never having a boyfriend before when Heeseung asks you another question. "Have you ever...?"

He doesn't need to finish the sentence. You know what he's asking.

You shake your head.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business." He berates himself, and you assure him it's no big deal and that it shouldn't even be a shocker to him.

After a half hour of talking about whatever comes to mind, you wind up sitting opposite Heeseung on his bed, legs perched up underneath your body as you go back and forth, questioning one another.

"So, when are you gonna admit you had a crush on me?" His voice is barely a whisper.

"I never did." You lie.

"Really? That sucks?"

"Why?"

He shrugs, leaning his back against the headboard. "I just always thought that maybe you and I would've ended up together at some point."

You don't remember who leans in first; it doesn't matter; all that matters is after years of longing, your lips are finally intertwined with his. He must've smoked today; you can taste the nicotine on his breath. But it doesn't matter; you don't make the slightest move to pull away. Neither does he, placing his hands on the small of your back to guide you onto his lap.

Your body is moving on autopilot, limbs moving to do whatever feels right as you silently pray not to ruin the moment. Heeseung can spot your nervousness from a mile away and stop you, "We don't have to do—"

"I want to," you pant, breathless, "I've wanted this for so long."

"Do you trust me?" He asks.

"More than anything."

He kisses you again before adjusting your current position, slowly twisting yourselves until you're lying flat on your back. He moves his lips down towards your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his path as he settles between your legs.

You reach up to grab a handful of his hair, nearly jumping out of your skin as his delicate fingertips creep up your inner thigh, inching closer and closer until his ghosting over your clothed pussy. "This okay?" He mumbles.

You nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. "Cute," he replies, "you're already so wet." His fingertips stroke your clit through your damp underwear; you don't think to wonder how he managed to get to it so quickly, all thoughts leaving your brain as he makes small circles using his middle and index finger.

"Heeseung…" You moan, pleading for him to do more.

"I know." He assures you, using a single finger to pull your panties to the side, making just enough room for him to slide a finger into your aching cunt. "Am I really your first time?"

You nod again out of fear that a moan would slip from your lips if you even tried to speak. His eyes are locked on yours, studying your expression as he coaxes a finger inside you. You're embarrassed at how quickly your wetness coated his finger, but Heeseung doesn't care. He likes it, makes him feel fucking amazing knowing the effect he had on you.

"Take your shirt off." He says, and you do as told, pulling your top up and off your body and tossing it to the floor; making quick work of undoing your bra before he even has the chance to ask.

His lips are back on your neck instantly, trailing down to your collarbone until he reaches the curve on your breast. He halts his actions momentarily before your pitched nipple is caught between his teeth and your back arching off the bed from how overstimulating everything feels.

You curse under your breath, and Heeseung makes another comment about how cute you are, though you feel far from it. He apologizes by lapping his tongue around your nipple, easing the pain slowly as he inserts a second finger into your cunt.

You can feel his bulge against your thigh, though he doesn't even care about getting himself off. He moves over to your nipple, licking and sucking until it's completely hardened, leaving himself breathless. The two fingers that had been working your cunt had picked up the pace now, and there was an unfamiliar feeling in your gut that you couldn't identify.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" You groan, legs trembling.

Heeseung is all too familiar with these actions and asks, "You're already close? I've barely done anything to you." He teases, chuckling to himself.

You know he's being lighthearted, but you can't help but feel embarrassed at the tears forming in your eyes from how good everything feels.

Suddenly, he's pulling his fingers out of you, and now you feel like crying for a different reason. You go to protest but stop to watch as he takes his shirt off. If you weren't sure then, it's obvious now he'd started attending the gym.

He makes quick work of tugging his sweatpants down his legs, tossing them into the abyss before reaching into his bedside table and retrieving a condom. "You're okay?"

You nod.

"Use your words."

“I’m okay, Heeseung.”

"You're still okay with this?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

Jesus fucking Christ, the saint this man is.

"I'm positive." You assure him.

You move to pull down your skirt and underwear, but Heeseung catches your wrist. "Leave them on," he says. There are so many things going on that you choose not to question.

He pulls off his boxers in the meantime, hardened cock slapping against his abdomen with precum leaking from the tip. Though you had nothing to compare it to, Heeseung was obviously slightly larger than average. You shouldn't be surprised; it's always the guys that you'd least expect.

He tears the condom wrapper with his teeth, retrieving the rubber inside before tossing the remains to his floor. Despite being fully erect, he fists his cock a few times before sliding the condom on.

He crawls over you, left arm at the side of his head, while he uses his dick to nudge your panties to the side. "This still okay?"

"I already told you—fuck!" He cuts you off, the tip of his cock slowly making its way inside you. You feel so stretched out from this alone you don't know how you'd manage to fit all of him into you.

Heeseung must be feeling the same, swearing under his breath and commenting about how tight you feel around him. Second by second, he coaxes himself into your pussy until you feel like you could split right open. "Are you all the way in?"

"No, can't take anymore?" He asks, leaning his head down against your ear.

You're embarrassed to admit he's too big to handle on your first time, but it's the truth. You don't want to overextend yourself just to please him and end up hurting yourself.

"You can move, just…not too much. Please."

Heeseung nods, "Whatever you want, angel."

He pulls his hips back and rocks himself back in, being sure to ask if you're okay with his pace. Once you confirm you feel fine and want him to keep going, he continues his movements; his eager hips snapping against yours and his cock hitting your G-spot with each deep stroke. You feel like you're on cloud nine, hands tangled in his hair as he swallows your moans.

That unfamiliar feeling from earlier returns; you feel it through your entire body this time. A moan of his name escaping your lips lets him know you're close. How he can always sense these things is beyond you; it's not worth overthinking.

"Close?" He asks, and you nod frantically.

Heeseung picks up his speed slightly, careful not to overwhelm you, but just enough to reach your climax, until finally, the bundle of nerves in your abdomen snaps, and your back is arching off the mattress as you come around his cock.

He's only a few seconds behind with his orgasm, erupting in a loud grunt when he finally reaches it. The two of you lay in silence for a moment before Heeseung finally pulls out of you and slides the condom off, tying it in a knot and tossing it into his trash bin.

"Are you okay?" He asks for what feels like the millionth time.

"I'm fine." You respond, and it isn't a lie. Physically, you feel terrific; mentally, it was an entirely different story. "Are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good."

As much as you would love to lay naked with Heeseung in his bed for the rest of the night, you know Chaeryeong will be home anytime soon. "I think I'm gonna go wash up."

He nods, crawling under his covers once you stand from his bed, tugging your skirt to its proper length as you search for your remaining clothing. "Oh, it's um…your shirt, it's over there." Heeseung awkwardly gestures towards a pile of clothing by the end of his bed.

Almost as quickly as you shred yourself of them, you snatch your clothing and bundle them up against your chest.

"Listen, I know right now isn't really ideal, but I meant what I said about liking you, and really think we should talk." He says nervously, barely even able to look at you.

You almost want to laugh at how cute he is; instead, you agree to talk to him about it soon. You're about to head out into the hallway when Heeseung reminds you about your charging phone over by his desk.

You retrieve it and scan the area again, ensuring you haven't left anything else behind. When everything seems clear, you stand upright, but your eyes fall toward the trash bin near his window with the discarded condom. You're embarrassed to even look at it until you realize something seems off. It looks…empty.

Now, you're no sex expert, but imagine that if Heeseung had finished, there'd be something to show for it in the condom. Right?

Did he fake his orgasm? Was this another one of his fucked up mind games you'd been subjected to?

You don't know what to think as you step into the bathroom; your emotions are all over the place, and all you really want to do is go home. But you promised Chaeryeong you'd be here when she returns, so you stay.

The next time a Lee sibling asks if you're okay is twenty minutes later when Chaeryeong finally arrives and asks why your eyes are so watery.

“babyyy,” he whines the second he sees you, eyes lighting up like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. he’s leaning against the wall, one shoe already kicked off, the other still stubbornly on. his hair is messy, cheeks flushed pink, and that signature bright smile is a little lopsided. “missed you so much.”

you laugh softly and walk over, sliding an arm around his waist to steady him. “i missed you too, jakey. come on, let’s get you to bed.”

he immediately drapes himself over you like a giant puppy, arms wrapping around your shoulders, face nuzzling into your neck. “you smell so good,” he mumbles, lips brushing your skin with every word. “like home. my favorite home.” he takes an exaggerated sniff and sighs happily. “can we just stay like this forever?”

“we can cuddle in bed forever,” you promise, guiding him down the hallway. he keeps stopping every few steps to hug you tighter or plant sloppy kisses on your cheek, your temple, wherever he can reach. “jake, shoes off.”

“help me?” he pouts, lifting one foot dramatically. you kneel down and tug the remaining sneaker off while he balances on you, hands in your hair, playing with the strands like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “you’re so pretty when you’re helping me. the prettiest.”

once both shoes are off, he refuses to let go of your hand, swinging it between you like a little kid as you lead him into the bedroom. the bedside lamp is already on, casting a warm glow. you try to steer him toward the bed, but he pulls you into another full-body hug instead, swaying gently.

“i love you,” he says against your hair, voice soft and earnest in that tipsy way that makes your heart melt. “like, sooooo much. you take such good care of me. best girlfriend ever. wife. future wife. can i call you that tonight?”

you bite back a laugh. “sure, future husband. now sit down so i can get your shirt off.”

he plops onto the edge of the bed obediently, but the second you reach for his buttons he wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you between his legs. his face presses into your stomach, nuzzling happily. “soft,” he hums. “my favorite pillow.” he tilts his head up, eyes big and sparkly even when glassy from the alcohol. “kiss?”

you lean down and give him a quick peck, but he chases your lips with a whine when you pull away. “more,” he demands cutely, lips pursed. you give in and kiss him properly, slow and sweet, tasting the faint sweetness of whatever fruity drink he had. he makes a contented little noise and tries to deepen it, hands sliding up under your sleep shirt to rest on your bare back.

“jake,” you murmur against his mouth, half warning, half amused. “bedtime. you need to sleep.”

“but i’m not tired,” he lies, even as he yawns right after. still, he lets you unbutton his shirt and slide it off his shoulders, revealing all that smooth, warm skin and the faint definition of muscle from years of dancing. his hands stay on you the whole time, tracing lazy circles on your hips, thumbs slipping under the waistband of your panties.

you manage to get his jeans off too, leaving him in just his boxers. he looks so cute sitting there — flushed, hair tousled, blinking up at you like you hung the moon. “cuddle now?” he asks hopefully, already scooting back on the bed and lifting the covers for you.

you climb in beside him and he immediately attaches himself to your side like a koala, one leg thrown over yours, arm slung across your waist, face buried in the crook of your neck. his breath is warm and steady, and for a minute you think he’s actually going to fall asleep.

then he shifts.

his hips press against your thigh and you feel it — half-hard already, twitching when he rocks just a little. he lets out a tiny, embarrassed giggle.

“sorry, baby,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. he nuzzles closer, lips brushing your collarbone. “you’re just… really warm. and soft. and you smell nice. it makes me horny.”

you snort. “oh so you’re tipsy and horny? that's a very dangerous combination.”

“not dangerous at all,” he protests, voice turning pouty. he lifts his head, lower lip jutting out with the most lethal puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. his cheeks are still pink. “please? just a little. i’ll be quick. i’ll be so good for you.”

his hand slides under your shirt again, palm warm and a little clumsy as it cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple until it pebbles. he watches your face with that focused, tipsy intensity, like he’s studying exactly what makes you react.

“jake…” you start, but he cuts you off with another kiss, this one deeper, a little messier, tongue sliding against yours while he presses his growing erection more firmly against your thigh.

“i want you,” he whispers when he pulls back, voice husky now. “been thinking about you all night. kept telling the guys how lucky i am. how pretty my girlfriend is. how good you feel when you’re around me.” his fingers pinch your nipple lightly, drawing a soft gasp from you. “please, baby. i need you. i’ll do all the work. you just lay there and let me love you.”

he’s so earnest, so adorably desperate, that your resolve crumbles fast. you cup his face and kiss him again, slower this time, letting him feel how much you want him too. “okay,” you murmur. “but gentle. you’re drunk, remember?”

“i'm not drunk, just… feeling a bit funny,” he promises, already moving to tug your shirt up and off. the second your breasts are bare he’s on them, mouth hot and eager, sucking one nipple while his hand kneads the other. he’s a little uncoordinated from the alcohol, but it only makes it sweeter — soft, open-mouthed kisses, little whimpers vibrating against your skin.

you slide your hand into his boxers and wrap your fingers around him. he’s fully hard now, hot and heavy, leaking at the tip. jake moans loudly at the first stroke, hips bucking into your fist.

“fuck— yes, like that,” he gasps, switching to your other breast. “your hand feels so good.”

you pump him slowly, thumb swirling over the head, spreading the wetness. he keeps grinding against your palm, panting into your neck, whispering the filthiest sweet nothings.

“i love your tits… love how wet you get for me… i’m gonna make you feel so good, baby…”

eventually he pushes your panties down your legs, kicking his own boxers off in the process. he settles between your thighs, cock nudging against your entrance, but instead of pushing in right away he just rubs the head up and down your folds, coating himself in your slick.

“so wet already,” he marvels, voice awed. “all for me?”

“all for you,” you confirm, wrapping your legs around his waist.

he slides in with one smooth thrust, both of you groaning at the feeling. he’s thick and warm and fills you perfectly, even when he’s a little sloppy from being tipsy. he doesn’t start moving right away — just stays buried deep, grinding in slow circles while he kisses you senseless.

“i love being inside you,” he mumbles against your lips. “it feels like home. a very warm home. the best home ever.”

you can’t help but laugh. then he starts thrusting — deep, lazy rolls of his hips that hit just right every time. he’s clingy even now, chest pressed to yours, arms wrapped around you so there’s no space between you at all. every thrust is accompanied by little kisses to your jaw, your neck, your mouth. he keeps whispering how much he loves you, how perfect you are, how he’s the luckiest guy in the world.

you slide your hands down his back, feeling the muscles shift as he moves, and when you dig your nails in lightly he moans and picks up the pace, hips snapping a little harder.

“close,” he whimpers after a while, voice cracking. “baby, i’m so close— c-can i come inside? please?”

“yes,” you breathe, clenching around him on purpose. “come for me, jakey.”

he buries his face in your neck and comes with a broken moan, hips stuttering as he fills you up, warm and pulsing. the feeling tips you over the edge too, orgasm washing over you in soft, rolling waves while he keeps grinding through it, drawing it out for both of you.

afterward he doesn’t pull out right away. he just collapses on top of you, heavy and warm and still buried inside, pressing lazy kisses wherever he can reach.

“i love you,” he mumbles, already sounding half-asleep again. “best girlfriend. best wife. i'm gonna marry you someday.”

you stroke his hair, smiling into the dark. “i love you too, tipsy boy. now go to sleep.”

he hums happily, nuzzling closer, and within minutes his breathing evens out. you stay like that for a while — his weight comforting, his warmth surrounding you — before carefully slipping out from under him to clean up.

when you come back to bed he immediately reaches for you again in his sleep, pulling you against his chest with a contented sigh.

the thing is, jake is your clingy, cute, horny boyfriend.

and you wouldn’t trade him for anything.

© jongst4r, 2026

You were broke. Triple digits that usually decorated your bank account slowly turned into double digits, as you tried to endure the new reality. It was hard to let go of your usual habits, spending money like it had absolutely no value, living a lavish life and going out every Friday. Now, you had to count every penny. Instead of purchasing a basket load of expensive fruit and drinks, you were forced to reach for the cheapest bread and milk in order to survive. 

Maybe you were exaggerating. Your parents' company hadn't gone completely bankrupt, yet. The technology department, which brought in the most profit, had endured a sudden decline due to a new company, which had stolen all their clients. Maybe they were exaggerating too, the other four departments running just fine. 

Even with that, they had decided it would be best if you gave up your expensive apartment and spending mania. You would live without spending such amounts monthly, but you definitely wouldn't survive without your city view apartment. 

Since you were little you dreamt of moving out, and living in one of those high up buildings only the richest could afford. And upon viewing the apartment for the first time it was everything you had imagined. Down to the spruce wood kitchen and bottle green tiles in the bathroom. 

But here you were, intensely searching through apartment listings, hoping to find something equally nice for a good price. 

You had hoped your best-friend, Minjeong would offer you to move in with her, knowing she had a spare room in her apartment not far away from your own, but her boyfriend's move in had crushed that desire to the ground. 

You didn't want to let the thought sink in, but you knew you’d have to get a roommate. You knew that was the only solution for your poor financial situation. Unfortunately for you, any of your friends that were potential roommate material, either lived with their parents still or weren't looking to share a place with anyone. 

You had honestly put off the search for a long time, hoping you’d soon get a call from your parents saying they had finally given up on this stupid idea of cutting your monthly budget in half, but it never happened. 

One offer caught your attention, the monthly rent wasn't too bad, allowing you to still live comfortably, the deposit was also doable, and the room was just fine. 

With a few clicks, a message chain between you and your hopefully new leasing agent had formed. You prayed the offer was still available, slowly warming up to the place, analyzing every detail about the apartment through the numerous pictures attached to the advert. 

Soon enough, the generous and kind Mister Choi Jaeyoung had responded with a short confirmation and a list of information regarding his availability and precise location of the complex. You had agreed on a short tour of the apartment, but by now you had already memorized every corner. You’d probably give him a better tour of that place at this point than he could. 

“This would be your room” he pointed with his hand, gesturing you to enter the space to look around. 

It was even better in real life, the sun shined brightly through the large window, and the closet was bigger than you expected. Obviously, it was nothing compared to your high ceiling bedroom that included a bathroom and medium sized wardrobe, but still it satisfied you enough to sign all the papers your new leasing agent threw at you. 

“That room, right there” he said looking up to the closed door “-is your roommate's, Jake’s, room” he said, and you nodded. 

“Is he here?” you asked, hoping to meet him. 

You wondered why the boy hadn't come out by now in order to introduce himself to you. I mean, you two were going to be living with each other for a long time, it would be nice to at least see what kind of man he was. 

“I don't think so. Even if he is, I wouldn't recommend bothering him” he answered, and you tilted your head, confused. 

“Why? Don’t tell me he’s like fucked in the head or something” you cursed yourself for the choice of words. 

The older man laughed “No, Jake is a nice guy, but I reckon he’s just a little more on the introverted side. He treasures his peace more than anything, let’s say it like that” 

“I think I can respect that,” you smiled. 

“There was someone here before you, but he was definitely a talkative person, and I guess he didn't like the fact that Jake wasn't,” Jaeyoung added, and you nodded. 

“That really isn't a good enough reason to move out” you laughed lightly and so did the man beside you. 

You felt a bit uneasy at his words. Was Jake really that bad? Obviously your leasing agent, who was too nice for his own good, wouldn't admit to Jake being a complete lunatic with a fucked up sleep schedule, or something even worse than that. But the place was pretty tidy, it calmed your mind a little bit. 

“With that being said, you can move in as soon as you’d like. If you need any help with moving your belongings, I’d be more than happy to help you find a nice moving company. You really can't trust people with your stuff these days” he smiled kindly and you thanked him for the tour. 

You guessed you’d have to figure out your mysterious roommate on your own. 

_____ 

It had been a week since you moved in. A whole seven days had passed, and you haven't even seen his face. 

You hoped that maybe he’d offer you a helping hand with all the moving boxes, and furniture, but Jake didn't even bother to come out of his room the day of your move in. 

You knew he was there. You had passed by his room, hearing a quiet melody coming from his room or an indecipherable chatter. You considered knocking, introducing yourself, but the words of your landlord kept ringing in your ears, keeping you away from that door. 

“Isn't he going to like, help us?” Minjeong mumbled, wiping a bead of sweat off her forehead. 

She had been helping you move everything in since 9AM, and Jake hadn't even budged. You were debating asking him instead of Minjeong, finally getting a chance to let yourself be known to him, but then again you knew he’d decline, or worse, not give you an answer at all. 

“Doesn’t he need to use the toilet? Or eat?” Minjeong asked, sitting down on your bed, the two of you struggled to build. “A real man should have made an initiative to help, and build this furniture” she added, looking around at the still boxed up closet and desk. 

Sizing down your living space also meant getting rid of your ridiculously large furniture, that had absolutely no right fitting into this small room. Then again, it was great to use some of the pieces as bribery, you knew Minjeong would never agree to do this for free. 

“I don’t care, but it is kinda creepy” you said, sitting down on the chair next to your dresser. 

You weren’t alone, but that’s what it felt like. You wondered what he looked like. You had looked him up on Instagram, Tiktok, even Facebook, but none of the profiles under his name matched the information you had about him. 

“It is! What if he’s like a 40 year old creep that lurks in these areas of town cause he knows this is where most students live” she inquired, and it made you feel uneasy. The story sounded plausible, and that’s when you felt like going into his room ‘by accident’ just to see him would be the best idea. 

“Don’t say that, you’re freaking me out” you said, and she laughed lightly. It was unlikely, to be completely realistic, but you could never truly know until you saw him. 

“If he turns out to be weird, you can always stay with me” she reassured, walking over to the mirror. 

“And listen to Heeseung getting his dick wet all night long? Yeah, no thank you” you half smiled, and she laughed. 

“Better than a 40 year old pervert” she pointed out, and you were forced to agree with the girl. 

Minjeong sighed turning to you “I swear I’m going to knock on his door myself if you don’t do it” 

You shook your head. You’d rather torture yourself with all the things that were yet to be done, than reach out to Jake. 

“You know what my landlord said, he could kill me in my sleep if I bother him” you warned, and she sighed once again, her gaze falling on the numerous boxes. 

“I have to leave soon, are you seriously going to do all this by yourself?” she asked, and you nodded with a sad expression on your face “You should ask Jay to help you” she grinned evilly. 

You chuckled “We’re not that close” 

“Oh c’mon, I’m not telling you to have sex with him on your precious newly built bed, just ask him for a little help. Have you seen his muscles, he can take all these boxes at once” she said, and you hid your face in your hands, smiling “And stop acting like you don’t want him. You can’t hide anything from me” 

Jay was hot. Really fucking hot. He was tall, well proportioned with long legs and a muscular torso. He carried himself so well, with a style that was so different, and a captivating face. He was also a well known frat boy and stoner, but you didn’t mind, it wasn’t anything unusual. One of the things Jay liked about you is that you weren’t naive- he knew he wasn’t the only one you were fucking around with, and you knew you weren’t his only girl. 

“I can handle it, don’t worry” 

Minjeong had left, leaving you alone with all the unmade furniture, unpacked boxes and thoughts regarding your roommate. 

What if he truly was a 40 year old, unemployed man who earns all his money from his parents? 

Or a discord mod, who has awful posture, and a dent in his head from the constant use of headphones? 

But then again, you saw the food in the fridge, he had already cleared up two shelves for you, but his own contained a healthy variety of food, which calmed your mind in some way. The same went for the bathroom, it was clean, all his things were organized, and the products he used seemed to be those a rather younger person would use. 

His music taste also contradicted all your suspicions and theories. You noted that he listened to a lot of RnB, and from time to time he’d play some rap or hip hop. 

That’s how your first week went by, analyzing every detail, and attempting to listen in on any conversations he’d have, just to finally get an idea of who your secretive roommate was. 

On friday you came back from your pilates class, something you refused to give up, crying in front of your parents to let you have at least one thing. They were reluctant, but gave in sooner than you thought they would. 

You were extremely spoiled, and there was no point in denying it. You were raised that way, and you found peace in using that as an excuse for your behavior. 

Some part of you was expecting to catch Jake in the bathroom or kitchen, hoping you’d finally get to speak to him but the only thing of his that you came home to was a handwritten note with numerous household rules. 

It made you laugh. It’s not like he was paying more than you, but still he thought he had any right to boss you around in your own place. And his handwriting- it was awful. No matter how serious you tried to take the note, it felt like you were trying to decipher ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs. 

Some of them were reasonable, cleaning up after yourself in the kitchen, keeping the bathroom tidy, and doing your own laundry- all of it was understandable and something you already had been doing. 

No smoking was something you could agree to, you didn’t really do it anyways so it didn’t bother you much. The same went for no music after 11PM. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the “no having friends over” point on his long list. It was insane, especially since he had a friend over just two nights ago. You had no idea why you were the only one not allowed to bring friends over, wondering if maybe you had to ‘earn it’, or if it was because you were a girl. 

There was absolutely no way you were going to comply with any of these. 

_______ 

On a Tuesday morning you woke up later than usual. The only reason for that was a previous cancellation of your anatomy class. 

No matter how spoiled and entitled you felt, you’d never allow yourself to miss class or fail an assignment or exam. Being a model student was something your father engraved in you from a young age, sending you to expensive boarding schools and making sure you get into a good university. 

You wondered if Jake had left for class already, or for work. Not like you knew what he was doing in life anyway. 

You opened your phone to an excited text message chain from Minjeong who expressed her excitement after a steamy and long night with Heeseung. A small smile surfaced on your face as you texted back her with a simple reply. 

You were afraid to leave your room. It was stupid, this was your place and you had every right in the world to go and make yourself fucking breakfast. But the impression Jake made on you was holding you back. You wondered how he managed to avoid you every single time, how you never were able to catch him leaving the bathroom or making a dish in the kitchen. That definitely took a lot of skill and starving on his side. 

It was pathetic, the more you thought about it. You were his roomate for fucks sake, not a serial killer who was just waiting to slash his head off. You two didn't have to be friends, you never expected that of him or anyone else you were going to move in with. But a short greeting would be nice. 

After a short call with Minjeong who pulled you back to reality, with a stern voice convincing you that Jake probably wasn't in the apartment anyway. 

“If you're going to behave like this, you should start looking for a new apartment” Minjeong said, and you thought about it for a second. 

Maybe she was right, but the thought of him scared you so much to the point that you would rather starve yourself than leave the room. 

The first week you purposely did things to catch him in action, get him to finally talk to you, and that slowly faded into you not even wanting to pass by him in the hallway. 

“Fuck Y/n, seriously he’s probably some incel loser who’s afraid to look a woman in the eye” you laughed at her comment, silently agreeing “I can come over and make food with you if that’s going to make you feel safer” she said, and you instantly were reminded of his set of rules and regulations. 

“Can’t. He doesn't allow friends over” you answered and she scoffed loudly. 

“So you did speak to him?” she said, still in disbelief. 

“No, not at all. This stupid prick left a note on my desk when I was out, 30 fucking rules and most of them seemingly only apply to me. He had a friend over just 4 nights ago!” you answered angrily, and she sighed. 

“You should move out of there, seriously. If not that, then purposely piss him off until he moves out” she inquired, and it birthed a whole bundle of ideas in your head. 

Maybe that was your solution. Purposely pissing him off and going against his crazy rules, forcing him to move out before you were forced to do it. 

“That’s a good idea, I like it” you answered, and she cooed excitedly. 

“Invite Jay and fuck so loud he’ll be slamming doors” she said, and you were quick to hush her, embarrassed by her ideas. 

“I gotta go make a mess in the kitchen then” you remembered one of the early points on the list, bidding her a quick farwell and ending the call. 

She had already convinced you that Jake wasn't in the apartment, so you didn't even bother getting dressed, just slightly adjusting your underwear and strapless top. 

It really felt like you were living alone most of the time so none of the habits you picked up on while living alone had the chance to vanish. 

You slowly open the door with a quiet creek to the floor boards and leave the room, your face in your phone as you checked all the notifications that bundled up overnight. 

You weren't expecting your first meeting with Jake to look like this, but there he was in all his glory. 

He must've thought the same thing- you shouldn't be here at this hour- a single pair of boxers keeping him away from standing fully nude in front of you. 

You didn't even know the man's last name but here you were standing practically naked in front of each other. Maybe you’d be more frightened if he wasn't so fucking hot. 

His skin was slightly tanned, shoulders broad with toned forearms. He had a tiny, slutty waist- if you knew he wanted it too you’d probably fuck him right there in that kitchen. His face was even better, big doe eyes and a shaped jawline. His black hair slightly covered his face, but you could still make out all of his features. 

All the fears you had completely vanished, a new disgusting arrangement of thoughts taking over your mind as you tried to speak to the man in front of you. 

“I’m s-sorry” you quickly said, covering your eyes. 

It had only been a couple seconds since your eyes met him in this awkward situation, but it felt like you’ve been staring at him much longer. 

He didn't even bother to reply, closing the fridge with a protein drink in hand, he passed by you like you weren't even there. You watched him enter his room and close the door with a thud. 

Was this seriously all of it? You had hoped he was just a little shy, waiting for an opportunity to greet you properly whenever you had the chance to pass by each other, but he obviously wasn't interested in getting to know you. 

But how could you possibly not want to get to know him when he was so breathtakingly hot. How could you possibly stay sane knowing you're living with a David reincarnate. 

You no longer planned on playing the ‘how long until he finally speaks to me’ game, preferring to see how long it’ll take for him to fuck you. 

______________

After that day you hadn't seen Jake at all. 

You heard him occasionally laugh with his friend who seemingly had the right to come over every day, or rage at a game but that was it. He once again opted to ignore you. 

You wondered if he was thinking about you too. You couldn't possibly get him out of your head, spending a little more time in the common rooms, hoping he would finally walk out of his room. 

Was he playing hard to get or was he just a fucking sick antisocial weirdo with no interest in real life women at all. 

You had spoken to Minjeong, the girl convincing you to do something that’ll rile him up. She had finally persuaded you to invite someone over, specifically Jay, in hopes that it will piss off Jake enough to get him to speak. 

“I know him from university, he’s an engineering major” Jay said, taking a hit from the freshly rolled blunt. 

The smell of weed spread across the area, and you secretly hoped Jake could feel it seeping in through the cracks of his door. 

“What’s he like?” you asked, inhaling the smoke as he held out the blunt for you in his fingers. 

He smiled “Fucking weird. Like he doesn't talk or anything, he just hangs out around the same people all the time” 

Jay pulled you closer, blowing the smoke into your mouth, and you obeyed, inhaling the rest. He gave you a sly smile, and finally put out what was left of the blunt. 

You didn't know what was between you and Jay, but until you get Jake to notice your true intentions towards him or even speak to you, he was a good option 

“That checks out” you chuckled, shaking your head “Look at this” you opened your drawer, pulling out the paper your roommate had left you. 

You handed it to him, as he read through all the rules. He laughed and with wide eyes kept looking through it. 

“Fuck, I need Sunghoon to see this” he laughed, taking a picture of it “Already broke two rules” he smirked and handed the list back to you. 

“Not stopping there, trust me” you smiled and put it back in your desk drawer. 

He smiled evilly, and pulled you back over to sit on his lap. You complied with a sly smile, and pressed your face against his chest, Jay softly caressing your back. 

“You should move far away from this freak, seriously” he says, and you can’t help but hum in agreement. 

If you chose to disagree, Jay would start asking too many unnecessary questions you truly had no answer to. You couldn't even tell yourself why after seeing him only once, you wanted the man to dick you down so bad. 

“And live on the street? No thank you” you replied, your voice muffled by the material of Jay’s sweater. 

He chuckled “You can move in with me” 

“The streets sound much better than living with 4 sweaty frat boys in one room” you replied, and he huffed. 

“We’re not frat boys, c’mon” you scoffed at his words. 

“Stoners, frat boys, fuckboys, whatever, same thing” you count and he just rolls his eyes playfully. 

Jay’s delicate touch and sweet voice almost stopped you from hearing Jake’s angry footsteps in the hallway. 

The chance had finally come, and you were forced to ignore it. 

The sound of his footsteps kept ringing in your ears as Jay told you something about having to leave soon to do a drop. You barely listened to him, wondering what Jake was thinking about, probably already noticing you were not alone. 

The vibrating sound of Jay’s phone knocked you out of your trance, forcing you to rise from his embrace, passing him the device. 

“Yeah yeah, I’ll be there in a minute. I’m around the area” he replied, and lazily standing up with a stumble to his feet, he stretched and turned to you “Sorry, pretty thing. Gotta go” he gave you a half smile, and you nodded your head, trying to refocus on what’s going on behind your closed door. 

You walked him downstairs to the door, and with a chaste kiss to your forehead, he sprinted towards the subway station. You smiled, your eyes chasing his figure until he finally disappeared around the corner. 

Opening the door to your apartment once again you hoped that Jake would still be rummaging around the hallways. 

And you were right, he fell right into your trap. He was waiting there for you. 

“What the fuck was that?” he asked, and his voice was deep. It was a little raspy, probably from the way he’s screaming his lungs out playing games all night. 

His face was dark, and figure was lean. He looked a little creepy, his back blocking all the light, his body casting a shadow onto your figure. 

You wanted to smile, but decided to keep it cool “No hello, or goodmorning?” you asked, tilting your head with a sly smile. 

He looked like he was about to explode, and you liked it more than you thought you would. 

“Oh you wanna be like that? I fucking told you, loud and clear, that there were no guests allowed around here. Didn’t get through your head the first time, did it?” he groaned. 

“I’ve been here for 2 fucking weeks, and you haven’t even bothered to introduce yourself to me. You can seriously fuck off, and shove those rules up your ass while your at it” you replied, turning your back to him, heading towards your room. 

He grabbed your wrist, pushing you to the wall “You listen to me, yeah? So don’t fucking try to invite anyone over again” he said, harshly letting go off you, and without letting you finish, walked back to his room with a slam to his door. 

You were left there stunned in the hallway. Although you knew Jake wasn’t normal, you never expected him to be this fucked up. 

And you also didn’t expect it to turn you on so much. 

_______________ 

Once again, you haven’t seen Jake around. 

He must have been extra cautious to ignore you especially after your previous incident. 

You hadn’t even heard him play his usual loud and obnoxious music anymore or him raging at his games. No one has come over since then either. You couldn’t understand why Jay coming over bothered him so much to the point where he changed up his whole routine, choosing to take on a rather silent stance. 

But he wasn’t here today. 

For the first time in 3 weeks, you were there for his absence in the apartment, and you knew exactly what you wanted to do. 

You wanted to finally see what his own space looked like. 

Maybe in the slightest way it would help you figure out the type of person he is, maybe you’d find something that’d help you understand why he is the way he is. 

You double checked, making sure that psycho wasn’t hiding somewhere, hoping he’d catch you in the act. But when you checked every possible spot, you quietly and slowly opened the door to his room, steadily taking in the space that was unveiled in front of you. 

Cream walls, gray curtains, a cheap wooden bed frame, no posters, pictures or plants, you truly expected something more, but there was no personality to the boys room. 

In some way that answered a handful of your questions about him; he just had nothing to himself. He was just a simple boy with a fucked up character and greasy keyboard. 

His desk was messy, a mixture of textbooks, used up tissues and a half-empty lotion, crumpled up pieces of paper and cables. Yet through the mess you managed to notice a note, your name written in capitals on the top of it. 

And well, a scrunched up, stained pair of your light pink, lacy panties. They were abandoned in the middle of all the tissues he disgustingly didn’t get rid of yet. 

Just when you thought he couldn’t get weirder, he somehow did. 

“There is no fucking way” you whispered to yourself, your mouth parted and eyes wide. 

You looked back and forth between the paper and your underwear, eventually grabbing at the note, narrowing your eyes as you began to read the contents. 

You skimmed through the bullet points; your full schedule written down on the paper with almost exact numbers as to when you leave and when you come back. These were the things you didn’t even know yourself. 

“You think about me a lot don’t you, Jakey” you murmured with an evil grin, not forgetting to snap a picture of it and send it to Minjeong. 

You decide to leave the now useless fabric where you found it, also deciding to leave it out of the conversation with your best friend. She had already freaked out over the schedule and if she found out your crazy roommate is also jerking off using your dirty laundry, she wouldn't waste a second moving all your things into her apartment personally. 

She replied swiftly, an arrangement of emojis decorating your home screen and a “WHAT THE FUCK, CALL ME ASAP?”. You smiled and put all his things back in place, leaving the horrid space Jake created for himself. 

“Hello? Y/n?” Minjeongs voice ringed in your ears as you called the girl. 

You decided to spend some time in the living room, waiting for Jake’s return. Your eyes were constantly plastered on the door in the end of the hallway, ears listening in for a turn of the key. 

“Yeah, I’m here” you laughed lightly, and that’s when Minjeong got her confirmation to start her full on blowout. 

“Move out of there as soon as possible, girl. That man is dangerous, I swear to god” she half screamed, and you just chuckled “You’re laughing? This doesn’t scare you, like at all?” she asked, and you thought about a reasonable reply, cause ‘He’s hot’ was definitely not going to make the cut for your best friend. 

“I can’t afford anything else Minjeong, you know that. He doesn’t bother me that much, it’s okay” you said in an attempt to calm the girl down. 

“I told you, you can come stay with me” she said calmly, and you let a stray breath out. 

“Min you know I love you, but I already told you I do not want to hear you banging Heeseung every other night” you smiled even though she couldn’t see you. 

“Personally, I’d rather listen to pornhub recreations than live under the same roof with a potential stalker” she said, and you laughed. At least she knew about her problem. 

“He’s not a stalker Min, he’s just weird. That’s all” you replied and she sighed. 

“You can’t fix him, Y/n” she said, and you scoffed playfully. 

“You can wait and see” you told her and she just hummed. 

“Before that happens, you'll be six feet under” she said, and you couldn’t help but laugh at her overprotectiveness

The topic slowly faded when the seriousness turned into playful banter, the two of you discussing random topics and gossiping about every possible person that ever graced your campus. 

You didn’t leave the living room, not once, because according to Jake's precious and impressive schedule, you should be out now. Normally that would be true if not for the cancellation of your pilates class. Self-cancellation. 

As the keys turning and metal hitting the wooden door sound through the apartment, you hang up without further explanation, quietly running off to your room. 

If you stayed in the living room, upon noticing you, he'd practically bolt to his room, locking the door, once again, avoiding you. You were smarter than that. 

As soon as you heard him settle down, the sound of your old fridge being opened, and his quiet footsteps pacing around the kitchen, you pulled out your phone, the picture of his note staring back at you. You smile mischievously, phone in hand as you open the door, heading straight towards the kitchen, 

He looks slightly taken-aback and you know damn well why. He wasn't expecting you. You shouldn't be here for another 30 minutes- the perfect amount of time for him to shower and make dinner. He had precisely calculated all of this just so he could avoid useless encounters with you. 

“What is this?” your voice is taunting as he realizes what's displayed on your screen. 

All the blood drained from his face as he realized you entered his room and looked through all his things, possibly even read all the perverted thoughts he had about you that were scattered across his desk in the form of crumpled pieces of paper. He remembers exactly what he took from your dirty laundry basket and how much he enjoyed having the fabric wrapped around his thick shaft. 

“You went through my things ?” he asks, voice laced with anger as the reality of the situation comes down on him.   

You bark out a laugh, amused by his attempts to shift the blame on you “Oh and my panties, you can keep those. Hope they milk your short dick good” you smirk, leaning against the wall with arms crossed, the look of confidence on your face. 

Jake's expression darkens, a cruel grin twisting his lips as he moves closer to you, his face inches away from yours “You think you're so fucking clever, don't you? Going through my things, catching me in a little indiscretion and using it against me. Impressive” his voice is low as he laughs in your face. 

One of his hands moves to grip your chin, the look on his face menacing as he forces you to maintain eye contact “You're nothing but an entitled brat. I'm not some fucking pushover and you should know that by now. Weren't those rules enough? You just had to go and invade my privacy to feed your little ego. You knew what you’d find, didn't you?” he stares down at you intensely, his grip on your chin tightening, his thumb slowly brushing over your lower lip, his smile growing as he notices your silence. 

“Here's what will happen, okay? You’ll apologize for breaking my rules, send all your guests packing as soon as they show up on this doorstep, and we’ll never have this conversation again. You'll be a good little girl and listen to me from now on” he murmurs, his voice low as he trails his fingers along your jawline. 

“You look so hot when you get mad like this, Jakey” he looks caught off guard for a moment, before the low and seductive laugh parts his lips. 

“You think so?” he leans in closer, his breath hot on your skin, his voice down to a whisper as he continues “Then maybe we should put that dumb fucking mouth of yours to use and I'll show you just how hot I can get” 

A smirk spreads across Jake's face as his hands move down to grope your behind, giving it a firm squeeze, chuckling at your reaction. 

He moves to settle down at the edge of the couch, stripping off his shirt, presenting you with the view you’ve missed way more than you thought you did. His chiseled torso glistens under the lights, his belt buckle clinking as he undoes his pants, pushing them down. The fabric falls down to the floor almost instantly. 

He watches you intently as you smile up at him, his fingers toying with the waistband of his boxers, his movements slow and tantalizing. 

You’re enjoying this and he knows it too, watching from the way you slide down to your knees in front of him. 

“I knew you'd like this. Is this what you wanted?” he teases, his gaze never leaving yours as he watches your desperate pleas. 

When you nod, he laughs softly, finally pushing down his boxers, freeing his rigid erection “Show me how much you wanted it” 

He grips the base of his shaft, giving it a few slow strokes as he watches you, waiting for you to take him into your mouth. 

You grin at his heat and hardness, your fingers wrapping around his length. He pulses in your grasp, begging to fill your throat. You lean in, your gaze locked on his, running your tongue from base to tip, savoring the bitter taste of his precum. 

You slowly take him into your mouth, your lips stretching as you push his length further down your throat. You bob your head, the determination to bring him pleasure coursing through your veins. 

As your wet mouth accommodates his thick cock, a strangled groan escapes his lips “Yeah, fuck, don’t stop” 

His fingers thread through your hair, pushing you further down his shaft. He guides you as the sensation of your tongue around his sensitive tip brings him over the edge, his knees weak as he shakes with pleasure. 

“Keep going, suck me off good” he moans, his mouth parted as he continues to guide your head down his throbbing cock. 

As you pick up speed, your movements harder and faster, he can feel his body begging for release, the orgasm building in his stomach. 

He can barely keep his eyes open as he speaks, his voice strained “Fuck, I’m close" his heartbeat quickens "Gonna cum so hard down your throat you’ll never want to go against me again” 

His hips buck, as he tries to savor the last moments before his awaited release. With a hoarse cry, he loses himself in the feeling, spilling himself deep into your throat. 

His grip on your hair loosens, his eyes rolling back with pleasure “Swallow” he commands, his body shaking as he rides out his climax. 

With a contented hum, you comply, lapping up the last drops of his seed, the salty flavour coating your mouth. The rest of his release, mixed with your spit, coats your glistening lips, as you remove yourself off him. 

Jake watches you lick your lips before pulling you into a bruising kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. His tongue moves along your mouth, his hands sliding up your shirt, his fingers stroking the smooth skin of your stomach. 

“Strip” he says, pulling away, watching you with an evil grin. 

As he watches you slowly and teasingly remove your thin shirt and shorts, his hand begins to slowly stroke his cock back to hardness, smearing the ramints of his own release and your saliva along his thick shaft. 

He sits down on plush comforters of the couch, tapping his lap for you. His body presses against you as you straddle his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“So pretty” he whispers, locking his eyes on you as he watches you subtly grind your hips on top of him. 

He pulls your head back, exposing you bare throat, his lips leaving a trail of bites and bruises on his way down to your collarbone. 

A soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel his wet lips on you “I need more” 

He smiles at your words “I’ll fuck you so good the only rule you’ll remember is how nice it is when you submit to me” 

Jake swiftly moves you down onto the cushions, his body looming over you as his hungry eyes wander over your body. His lips meet yours again, his hardness grinding against your wet core. 

He uses your wet slick as a lubricant, his cock sliding against your folds as he hisses at the sensation. 

“I fucked myself to the thought of you every night” his voice is rough with barley restrained lust as he notches himself at your entrance “Wanted to bury myself in this little cunt for so long” 

With a powerful thrust of his hips, Jake sheathes himself fully inside you, groaning as your tight heat elopes him. You breath out in ecstasy as he fills you completely, your inner walls clenching tightly around his thick length. 

Your back arches off the couch, as you hold onto his forearm, your nails digging into his skin “Shit, Jake. So fucking good” 

You start rolling your hips, meeting his every stroke, the sound of skin slapping against skin and loud gasps fill the once quiet apartment. 

Encouraged by your wanton pleas, his thrusts become erratic, hitting deep and hard. He pounds into you with a wild force, pressing you down in place, taking the pleasure from your willing body. 

“That’s right, take it all” he holds onto your hips, slamming you onto his length. 

You can’t even bother to reply to his comments, writhing beneath him as he uses your body for his own gratification. Each of his brutal movements sends you further over the edge, his pace almost demonic as your nails dig into his back, leaving red scratches along the surface. 

Jake feeling your trembling thighs and the way you clench around him, smiles evilly, slamming into you with precision, grinding his pelvis against your clit. 

“Cum on my cock” he speaks, his voice dark “Milk me for all I’m worth” 

With a piercing whine, you come undone under his dripping body, the orgasm crashing down on you. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as with heavy pants, you ride out your intense climax. 

The feeling of your release and the sound of your name falling breathlessly from your lips, proves too much for him to handle “Gonna cum so fucking deep inside you” 

With a low, guttural moan Jake presses himself deep inside you one last time, and finds his own release, pumping his hot, thick cum directly into you. 

He finally collapses on top of you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he comes down from his own, intense orgasm. Jake lies down next to you, your damp body sticking to his, as he threads his fingers through your hair. 

You close your eyes, repeating the words, painting the scene and your back in that room. Those words spoken with so much collapsed indifference by a person that didn’t care to see or talk to you again. There was no point in burdening your memory with the idea of him, the idea of a Lee Heeseung that in this universe, didn’t quite exist. 

Yes- he carried his father’s surname, his name Heeseung- meaning bright and successful. Those were the things that would never change, the things he could never replace or hide. He would always and forever be remembered as Lee Heeseung, son of the hotel giants, and brother of Lee Haejun, the family heir. 

For all his miserable and lonely life he struggled to create a name for himself. For all the 19 years he managed to wrestle with life, the fate stayed the same. He wanted his parents to think of him in any way, even if it was bad, even if it meant he’d be a failure in their eyes. He craved to be something more, something beyond the body he was born in. 

Winter wasn’t his favourite season. He hated wearing a puffer jacket, long socks and heavy boots. He hated the additional weight of all these things with the already pre existing heaviness of his being itself.  

You liked winter- he knew that. He knew how happy it made you to catch a snowflake that’d melt away within seconds of meeting your warm hand. Heeseung also knew he probably ruined it for you on that night- 22 of December, the day that welcomed winter. 

He hasn’t really spoken to his friends since that night- his phone’s been on silent mode and his house, abandoned by him for now. Usually he’d enjoy this, maybe even have a friend join him, but this winter break, the vacation felt insufferable. 

Warm Sydney, Australia, the colour of the inside of his hand almost as light and soft as the skin of his neck and the underside of his forearms, which were rarely exposed to the sun. He remembers how 2 years ago, just a month or two later he was here with Sunghoon, lounging around and sleeping off the scorching heat until one of them finally suggested they should go to the rocks to swim. 

Well this year, he couldn’t quite find himself leaving the white sheets. Heeseung had left so many things unsolved back home, and he feared that by the time he’s back- it’d be too late. He’d leave the air conditioner blasting all day and night, his thoughts running off to all the things he did wrong. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have told you, maybe he shouldn’t have asked his friend for help, maybe he should’ve just left you alone. But how could he- it was stronger than him. 

While the summer in Australia left an unquenchable thirst for more, winter in his hometown was as quiet as ever. 

The inexplicable  animosity hung heavy in the air as you, and everyone else went about their life, trying to forget yesterday, and live with the thought of tomorrow. 

You spent most of your days alone. Sometimes, Jake would drop by. Or Jay. It depended on who made an excuse that day. 

In the midst of a fiery conflict, you found comfort in them. The same people who encouraged behaviour that led you here. It was all broken anyway, so was there really a point in finding the lesser evil? 

Neither of them have spoken to the two boys. Maybe they didn’t want to take sides or maybe, just maybe all of them were waiting for the right moment to end this. This wasn’t friendship, not in the slightest. It was jealousy and competition. 

Trying not to think about it came out to be much easier. Only the countless texts reminded you. The unanswered calls, disconnected lines and unspoken words. 

No more words, you said no more words after his confession. You stayed silent, and that pain flooded you today. The silence stayed with you. Every night you’d spend on a phone call with him, laughing because no matter how hard you begged him, he wouldn’t hang up first, was now filled with heavy breaths and drowning darkness. 

Sunghoon hadn’t gone anywhere this winter. He was supposed to- the first class tickets to Sri Lanka already booked by his mother. When she knocked on his door, 12 hours before they were supposed to leave, he told her he'd fallen ill. Very ill. 

Before Heeseung blocked his number, he sent him a short message. Sunghoon sat in a cold corner on the white bathroom tiles, reading the message. It was enough to let him know that it was over. And even though the unyielding pain in his stomach grew stronger, a small smile twitched at the corner of his bloody lips. He tried to reply, but the text went green. 

When Heeseung first asked him for that favour, he assumed it was just another sick way for him to assert his dominance over you. Another way to make sure you knew Heeseung created what you are today, and no matter what, you’ll always have a piece of him. Sunghoon never thought the boy would tell you the truth in the end. 

Two days before New Years Eve, Jake texted you. 

“Is your brother home?” 

He also attached a photo, indicating that he was already in the area. 

“No” 

The simple reply quickly sent through, and without even checking for another response you flip the phone over. 

Each sound, each notification, you hoped it was from one of them. Heeseung never turned off his location sharing, so you already knew he wasn't around. Sunghoon, well, you had no idea. 

You didn't really know anything about him. How he went about his day, before and after school or on vacation or just on a simple Saturday. You didn't know his favorite color, his favorite food or his favorite song. 

It was never easy to talk to him- he didn't share much or make space for new people in his life. You rarely saw him enjoy things or even crack a smile at the jokes his friends made. That’s exactly what made it hard to figure out if he really meant the things he said and did. 

Your doorbell rings. You turn your phone and see another message from Jake, indicating he’s here. It didn't take him longer than 5 minutes to get here. 

“Hey” you scratch the back of your head, welcoming him in. He’s not awkward in the slightest, kissing your cheek as he enters. 

Jake hasn't been the same since. You can’t quite remember if he’s always been like this or did his friendship with the boys actually influence him that badly. 

Something you always noticed about Jake is how easily influenced he really was. It took one word, one word and he’d be at Heeseung’s feet just waiting to do whatever the boy wanted. He tried so hard to impress them, he fell through with everything in his life- his grades faltered, his relationship with his parents started to rot, and his self respect declined with every passing day. He ruined himself for them. 

Jay wasn’t like that. He never really listened to Heeseung in the first place. And Heeseung realized that pretty quickly. They weren’t particularly close either. Jay had legions of friends outside of school. He didn’t need Heeseung, Sunghoon or Jake but in a way, they needed him. He stuck around because loneliness wasn’t a good look on him, and his peers at school, well, they weren’t quite fond of him. 

“I brought wine” he announces and hands you the bottle of red wine that’s gotten quite cold by now. 

“You know I don’t drink” you look away from the label, now focusing on the boy who’s fixing his hair in the mirror. He doesn’t seem to register what you said as a piece of his brown hair keeps falling onto his forehead. 

He wiggles out of his leather jacket, hanging it on the clothing rack before taking the wine back into his hands “It’s only 12%. You won’t feel it” he ultimately replies. 

He wanders off into the kitchen while you sit down on the grey couch. Jake doesn’t really ask, he never does. It doesn’t bother you, not as much as it used to at least. He searches your cabinets looking for wine glasses which after a short moment, can’t be found in any of them. He settles down for something less extravagant. 

You wouldn’t even dare inviting any of them just a couple months back. You were embarrassed, their houses the size of your whole street. A lot of things have changed since then. 

"Jungwon is hosting for New Years” he started, handing the glass to you. He sat down, his body facing you “Do you want to come?” 

Yang Jungwon was in your grade. His father was a software engineer who developed his own app but also helped countless companies start theirs. Jungwon was the one who helped Jay start his long abandoned website. He always watched his father doing big things, he wanted that too. His mother was a divorce attorney, specializing in family law, charging around $500  per hour. She was the go-to of every miserable wife and all the tired husbands. Jungwon was a pretty normal boy- he grew up with two loving parents that got lucky enough in life to spoil him from the moment he was born. 

“Who else is coming?” you ask, and he shrugs, gulping down almost half  of his glass. 

You look down at yours, uninterested. But before he manages to reply, you copy his action. It doesn't taste good. 

“Probably the same people as always” he leans his head on his hand looking over at you “But from the people you’ll know, uh, Niki and Wonyoung are going to be there for sure. Sunoo probably has nothing better to do and Jay already told me he’s coming” Jake added after a moment and you nodded understandingly. 

“Niki and Wonyoung, huh?” you laugh mockingly, downing the other half of your drink. You wonder how in the world this could be a pleasure to middle aged women “Sunoo told me she went over to Sunghoon’s house two days ago” 

“Jealous?” Jake laughs and you raise your eyebrows. 

“No” he repeats your action and you can tell that he doesn't really buy it. Neither do you. “I’m not jealous, Jake. They can do whatever they want” 

His lips turn into a downwards smile “Sure, sure” he nods, and you playfully kick his leg. He winces at the action in a joking manner, before continuing “Heeseung and Sunghoon might be there too. So if you don't feel comfortable with that, you don't have to go. But me and Jay want you to be there” his tone softens. 

How would it end up this time? Which one of them would say something this time? Do something this time? Or would they ignore you, just like they are now. 

All you wanted was an answer. Nothing more, nothing less. You could even go by without a ‘sorry’. 

“I don’t care. I’d have to face them at school anyways” you answer with a straight smile. 

“Didn’t you hear?” he asks, painting your face with confusion at the statement. You shake your head, and he sits up straight “Karina’s parents are close with Heeseung’s, and she’s been saying some about him changing school’s mid February” 

You are even more confused now. It didn’t make sense. Where would he go? It’s probably just a rumor. 

“But you guys are graduating this year. That can’t be right” he shrugs, just as curious and confused as you. 

“Yeah, I doubt it” you nod with a small sigh, looking outside the window. 

The sun set so much quicker in winter. You barely got to enjoy the day before darkness settled. It  was setting pink today. 

“I’ll go with you guys. On New Years. Just, pick me up if you can” you say and he nods with a small smile. 

______

On that same day, Heeseung landed back in town. His father  asked him to come back in time for the New Years event he was hosting, once again. 

“What a fabulous suit, truly!” a middle aged woman comments, amused. She has a wide, bright smile on her face as she eyes Haejun “Let me guess, Canali?” she coos, a smirk creeping at the corner of her lips. 

Heeseung’s brother chuckles, the forced elegance lacing his  fake smile “Both the suit and overcoat. It’s nothing special though” he smiles, and soothes down the cashmere mantle. 

Lee Haejun runs a hand through his dark, silky hair, his posture relaxed in a ‘cool’ way.

Heeseung thinks it’s pretty humorous, the way Haejun is flirting with a 40 year old woman, whose hair is visibly turning gray. Her husband is probably somewhere in this crowd, trying to get closer to his father, just like all the other men who were lucky enough to even be invited. 

The lady has been ogling his brother for the past 5 minutes, not even noticing Heeseung who stood right next to him. 

He scoffs. 

“Oh, Heeseung. I didn’t notice you” she smiles faintly, but her eyes don’t even linger on him for a second longer, already back in conversation with Haejun “Oh and this scarf! Haejun, you have such phenomenal taste!” she celebrates him again, and he just chuckles at her excitement. 

Heeseung doesn't feel like standing there, looking like a fucking idiot that’s just waiting to get complimented on his Saint Laurent overcoat that quite frankly, was more expensive than Haejun’s. 

He doesn’t feel like being here at all. 

He thinks about everything; how these annual New Year’s dinners have ruined the holiday for him all together, how the man at the table in front of him has a giant bald spot on his head, how the hardbody on his right has pretty fuckable tits even though she’s probably in her mid 40s, how his mother is obviously having an affair with the hotels revenue manager, and most importantly, about you. 

He hasn’t felt anything since that unlucky Sunday night. It was suffocating, to be so conscious of his own decisions. But just like he’d been a coward that time, he still was too afraid to reach out and apologize. 

Maybe soon enough he’d find himself at your front porch, knocking on the door softly, a nice gift in hand, the smile you adore plastered all over his condescending face. 

That’s how it usually worked in his life; even the worst of heartbreaks and fights could be resolved with a pretty bag, new sports car or nice jewelry. That’d work on you too, wouldn’t it? He’d ask one of the maids that looked after his home to pick out something she’d like to recieve, and you’d probably be satisfied with that, maybe even suck him off later. 

Seeing you with Sunghoon enlightened something deep in his soul, something he’d never admit to himself. Heeseung didn't know if it was Sunghoon he was jealous of or you. 

Sunghoon had experienced love in many forms throughout his life. A gentle  and mannerly boy cherished by the women in his life. His kind, youthful energy seemed effortless—something completely out of reach for someone as weathered and unsteady as Lee Heeseung.

You loved him, he already knew that much. So why was it so hard for him to give that back to you, show you that he feels the same? 

He was such a selfish person-he didn't want to see you surviving on your own, or not needing him just as much as he needs you.  

Heeseung understood he could never give you the love you deserved. Yet, the idea of being replaced by Sunghoon was something he refused to accept. 

His eyes wander across the dimly lit space, desperately looking for someone who could give him a reason to leave his table. But he couldn’t stand any of them. He hated their fake pleasantries, their overblown gestures, and the emptiness behind their eyes.

They weren’t here to celebrate the passing year, spread joy and excitement for the coming days. 

All these lost, desperate people were here, hoping, praying to God that maybe this is the day his father notices them, gives them a chance to become as wealthy and glorious as him. 

“I was thinking about Oxford, possibly this upcoming September” he picks up on Haejun’s words and if not for the people and photographers that seemed to be on every possible side, he would’ve punched the shit out of his brother. 

Oxford, Harvard, Princeton, who gave a fuck? 

He sighs again but this time neither Haejun or the lady in front of him pick up on his mannerisms. 

He feels a sudden tap on his shoulder, the feeling making him jump back a bit.He groans under his breath, the sound inaudible for the one behind him, and turns around slowly. 

He didn't expect to see Park Sunghoon here. 

… 

“They don’t have a nice bathroom to do coke in” Heeseung shrugs, nibbling at his bottom lip as Sunghoon breathes out a laugh at his inquiry. 

He looks around the tiled, black bathroom, which is surprisingly empty. The light above the sink flickers in a weird way, and Heeseung wonders if it’s supposed to be like that. 

“We don’t do that anymore” Sunghoon mutters, leaning against the cold, slippery surface of the wall, his head slightly slumped. 

He looks up at Heeseung, his reflection much more familiar in the mirror. They are much closer than he thinks, the same worn out expression all over their faces.  

“Yeah… Guess those days are over” he smiles weakly, although the growing pit in his stomach makes him feel uneasy. 

He’s avoiding the topic, throwing random words in the air as his heart speeds up. Sunghoon’s avoiding it too. The words linger on their tongues but it feels like they're stuck. He can’t stomach starting a serious topic with his friend who's never been there for him in an emotional way. 

“I remember that party so vividly” Heeseung chuckles lightly, watching Sunghoon intently through the mirror. The boy is avoiding eye contact. 

“When Jay took a line and we thought we’d lost him, huh? I remember, yeah” he forces a smile although the memory is definitely not a sweet one.