zuko wearing less clothes on his upper body after his little discovery around you, excusing himself by saying “the weather is hot,” or “i was just training,” or even “i couldn’t find my robe.” it’s already established that he is bad at fooling people, though.

toph and zuko ultimately deciding on training you together, claiming it would be ‘beneficial for the three of us’ and to meet them at zuko’s quarters. who were you to deny them?

toph and zuko lying on his king sized bed already nude upon your arrival. toph wasting no time to manipulate the ground below you to slide you towards them and make you fall face first between their bodies.

“poor baby, don’t be embarrassed.”

“we can’t promise we’ll be gentle, but then again, you probably wouldn’t mind, would you?”

zuko and toph ripping your clothes off, silencing your complaints with alternating kisses to your lips and neck, soon making you forget all about your favorite garments that are now ruined.

zuko burying his face between your plush thighs, lips sucking on your clit, tongue flicking over your hole. his groans added additional vibrations for your pleasure, all while he’s rutting his throbbing cock against the silky sheets.

toph riding your face with her cunt while zuko is snacking on yours, switching between gasps and laughs; “you must be in heaven, huh?” you could only moan through her wetness.

toph and zuko taking turns kissing your trembling lips while working their fingers into your cunt and ass, whispering sinfully into your ears, the mix of zuko’s sweet words and toph’s carnal ones only making you hornier.

zuko turning your chin towards him, making you watch him and toph lap up your juices from their fingers. “you just taste so good, y/n,” zuko would reason, before guiding toph’s lips into a kiss for an extra taste.

toph using her metal bending to bind your hands together while zuko’s cock stands tall before your face, cooing down at you for how pretty you look not being able to touch his cock.

toph sliding the dildo of her strap-on she brought just for this occasion between your slicked lips, purring at the amount of natural lubricant as you’re begging for her to push in.

zuko moving you to lay against his chest, his large hands palming your breasts with his cock nestled between your ass, both of them torturing the fuck out of you; “you have to learn patience, y/n.”

toph and zuko finally giving you what you want after what felt like forever, both cocks slowly sinking into you all at once and stretching you deliciously. toph would’ve teased you some more, but zuko was growing impatient himself…

toph and zuko setting an oddly merciful rhythm, toph’s lips brushing against yours as she talks about how well you’re taking them, while zuko’s grunts and moans could be heard from behind. “such a good girl, aren’t you, sweets? listen to how you’re making zuko feel.”

toph and zuko milking multiple orgasms out of you while not breaking a single sweat. “just a little more, baby. you can do that for us, can’t you?” zuko breathed against your neck. you cried out with a nod.

toph and zuko sandwiching you once you’re reduced to a babbling mess, room filled with their hot breaths. toph gently brushing through your hair and removing your metal binds as she whispers about how well you took them, while zuko cleaned up the leaking cum in your ass and cunt.

toph and zuko letting you nestle between their bodies, arms and legs tangled together as you snooze in exhaustion and satisfaction… you wonder what next time will be like.

fluff

bf!jake who giggles between every kiss. everytime you pull away you just see him smiling sheepishly and avoiding your gaze, and when you're kissing you can feel the vibrations of his little giggles.

bf!jake who clings onto you like glue, hes always finding an excuse to be close to you. when he hugs or cuddles you he'll always feel you tense up at first, but when you slowly melt in his arms? he gets so happy its very much visible from the way his tail wags.

bf!jake who is always surprised when you show rare signs of affection. whenever you call him by a particularly sweet petname his ears perk up and he'll ask you to repeat it to see if he's hearing correctly.

smut

bf!jake who finds you taking the lead sooo hot. from the way you pin him down on the bed to the way you use his cock however you want, he literally gets hard at the thought of you having that much power over him.

bf!jake who gasps and whines whenever you lean down to play with his nipples, every kitten lick makes him thrash and every gentle bite makes him moan. and when you rub them with your thumbs he basically turns into putty in your hands.

bf!jake who is always hypnotised by the way your ass moves when you fuck him in reverse cowgirl. he'll watch in awe as you bounce up and down on his overstimulated cock, using him like a toy, like this is his purpose. and maybe it is.

bf!jake who cums immediately when you tease his ears. it doesnt matter if his pants are on or not, he always cums. the feeling of your fingers caressing his sensitive ears in just the right way and the fact you're whispering sweet nothings into his ear makes him bust a load on the spot.

—

“Jake.”

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

“Jake.”

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

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

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

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

If you can call it that.

“Jake, dude, come back to earth.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop chewing in my ear, Won.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nostalgia will be the death of you.

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

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

But man, is it getting hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon turns to look at his friend on the floor.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?” He says, albeit quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...yeah, I guess.”

Oh.

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

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

She tilts her head, as if questioning why? 

Jungwon looks between the two of you with furrowed eyebrows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The fuck? Who?”

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

“Bullshit. Tell me, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle, nudging his arm lightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It makes you feel faint in the head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The referee’s hand hovers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s over.

They tied.

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

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

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

Gawon shushes Jungwon before shooting you a concerned look.

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

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

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

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

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

“...Jake?” You call, offering what you hope is a comforting smile, even when your heart breaks at the sight of his bruised mouth and torn knuckles. “I’ll drive you home. C’mon.”

He finally lifts his head at your voice to look at you, eyes softening as they catch you in his jersey number. 

He nods slowly, letting you pull him out of his confinement and back onto solid ground, the added height from the blades of his skates making him tower over you as you lead him out of the rink.

—

You can never tell what he’s thinking, Jake’s normally clear eyes thick with something heavy that you can’t quite place. 

Neither of you have said a word since getting to his and Sunghoon’s shared apartment, the latter most likely getting black out drunk at this very moment. The silence is new to you, especially when you’re used to your brother filling it with his outloud-thoughts at every waking moment. You appreciate the fact that he’s not here to ruin this moment though, especially when you’re currently closer to Jake than you’ve ever been.

You’re standing snug between his legs as he sits sprawled on the living room couch, bending down so that you can gently apply ointment on his lips without it getting everywhere. One hand cradles his jaw while the other brushes the medicine on, his sharp intakes of air letting you know that it stings more than he lets on. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face, his eyelashes fluttering close with a grimace when you brush on another layer. His hands settle naturally on your hips — more so to keep him grounded than anything — his grip tight as you wipe away dried blood from his skin.

You chew mindlessly on your bottom lip in concentration, not even noticing until Jake reaches up to pull it from your teeth. His voice is hoarse as he speaks for the first time tonight. 

“Stop that,” he breaks the silence to scold you lightly, hand dropping back down when you still. “The skin will tear.”

“And look who’s talking,” you frown back, brushing a finger over the blooming bruise at the corner of his mouth. Even as pain flickers across his face, his gaze never drifts. He studies you from below, lids lowered, the heaviness in his eyes betraying how exhausted he really is.

His lips fall into a natural pout as you busy your hands, searching aimlessly for bandages on the coffee table behind you just to keep yourself from saying something you don’t mean. He’s so beautiful looking up at you like this, but thinking about his injuries and what caused them confuses you.

Your hands subconsciously tremble as you rip open the pack of bandages, Jake’s eyes on you as he leans back on the couch, legs spread wide. 

Hesitating, you ask the question that’s been running laps in your mind all evening. 

“Why did you do that? I’ve never seen you like that on the ice before,” you end up rambling, not accusing, just curious.

Jake stills. 

“...are you mad at me?” 

“Why would I be mad at you?” you muse, careful fingers gently lifting his right hand into yours. His fingers curl into your palm naturally, letting you brush over his knuckles before you begin to wrap gauze over them. His features soften as he observes the way you hold up his hand to inspect it for any missed injuries.

“I don’t know,” he admits, brows knit together in a shallow furrow.

You pause, dropping his hand before sighing.

“I was just worried, Jake.”

He lets a few moments pass before looking back up at you.

“Why were you worried?” He seems to hesitate before he whispers, as if fishing for a specific answer.

You say nothing, not sure if you can admit to him just yet why you care so much. You can’t even admit it fully to yourself. Biting your lip from saying something stupid in the heat of the moment, you toss the extra gauze behind you before sliding down onto the couch next to him.

He scans you for a moment. Realizing you’re not going to answer him, he reaches for a small metal tin on the table with shaky hands. He doesn’t prod further.

You can tell — through all these years of knowing him — when he begins to sink into one of his moods, the ones that make him turn to his vices to cope. It’s the way his eyes gloss over, unfocused as his mind drifts elsewhere. You saw it plenty when you were both eighteen and stupid, deep in the alley behind your local karaoke bar sharing a cig when the pressure of parents, school, and expectations got too much.

“You know, you’ve always been too good to me,” he mutters, voice low as he rolls a King Palm onto his open hand. Out of pure muscle memory, he sifts sativa in a line along his palm before packing it into a blunt. “...want a hit?” he whispers, almost like he’s ashamed of asking you to indulge in something that’s supposed to be his bad habit.

You’d usually chastise him lightly for smoking as an athlete, but you can tell he needs it tonight, the dimness in his eyes concerning you. 

You hesitate before nodding slightly, eyes in a trance as they follow his nimble fingers. You can physically feel your resolve crumble when he brings the cone to his lips, tongue darting out to slowly wet the edge of the rolling paper.

It takes everything in you to look away, hands furling and unfurling in your lap.

“I’m good to you because you deserve it, Jake. And don’t get used to this,” you admit, tucking your legs underneath you. You pause with a blink before admitting, “I’m only saying yes because it’s you.”

He swallows hard at your words, tension leaving his shoulders as he watches you. It’s as if he can see right through you, see your walls slowly crumble.

Holding a lighter up to his face, he lights the blunt with a sharp click before taking a deep drag, letting the warmth take over his body before blowing the smoke away from you. Color rises back into his cheeks as he holds it out for you to take. 

It’s been a while.

He must see the hesitation in your face because he pulls away suddenly, tilting his head like a puppy. His usual easy confidence seems to flicker. 

“Would it be better if… is it easier for you if I shotgun it?” He barely gets the words out without a stutter, eyes averting as your face burns at his suggestion. “To get a smoother high, maybe…” he tacks on with a mumble, like it changes anything he just said.

You stare back at him with wide eyes, mouth parting before slowly nodding.

“Maybe,” you peek at him before repeating yourself in a whisper. “I’d- I’d like that.”

His throat bobs like he’s holding himself back before scooting himself closer and bringing his hand up slowly to your face. You can sense his hesitancy, the way there’s a slight tremor in the movement. 

Your lungs stop working as his skin touches yours, fingers warm as they cup the side of your face gently. 

Both of you seem to pause, faces so close that you can see the way the space between his eyebrows creases, full lips just centimeters away from yours. The air feels warm and charged, your skin buzzing as he shifts to pull you in closer by the thigh. Strands of his wavy hair brush your forehead.

He braces an arm against the couch cushion before taking a long drag, eyelashes fluttering as he pauses before you. His eyes look different, like he’s fighting both something inwardly and the pull of the moment. They lower, betraying, and flicker to your mouth, lips pressed flat.

“Are you okay?” He asks so quietly that you almost don’t catch it, careful not to let any smoke out.

It only takes one nod from you before he leans forward in the slightest, coaxing your mouth open with his thumb before breathing out, letting it permeate your mouth.

“Breathe,” he talks you through it, letting his palm rest against your chest as it rises to feel the large inhale you take. “Let it go all the way.”

The smoke burns as it goes down, resulting in you coughing lightly as Jake moves to rub smooth circles into your back. His other hand falls from your jaw to your knee, bracing himself before taking another hit and letting the smoke curl its way up the ceiling. The smell clouds your senses, making your vision hazy as you let yourself relax into his side naturally.

His arm tightens around your back, a small smile making its way up his face — as if he can feel your eyes on him — as he continues to take long, sharp inhales. The tips of his finger drum against your waist for a moment before they tighten to pull you closer into him. 

“Again?”

“Mm,” you mumble in a daze, looking up with sparkling, wide eyes that take every last bit of his resolve. “Feels good.”

You don’t really know how you ended up in this position, with your body half in his arms, but you don’t complain. He doesn’t either.

Resting your head against his shoulder, he tilts your head back up to meet him halfway. He brushes your hair out of your face and behind your ear slowly, looking intently between your eyes before leaning down and blowing another bout of smoke into your mouth.

This time, your lips touch just a hair, his breath hot on yours. You jolt slightly.

Neither of you move away, scared to cross a line that’s been drawn since the first time you met him. 

He lets you inhale the smoke fully before starting to pull away.

Your hand comes up ever so slowly, shaking slightly, until your fingers make contact with his face. The space between his brows pinches when your thumb presses near the bruise on his mouth, then slowly smooths when he meets your eyes again.

Jake finds himself naturally leaning into your touch, a glimpse of his dimple appearing as his bottom lip gets caught between his teeth.

And when you see that, you decide you can’t take it any more. 

You’ve waited long enough.

You’re done being scared of consequences.

Threading a hand through his hair, you pull him down gently until his lips fully touch yours.

And then you’re kissing Sim Jaeyun. Your brother’s best friend. One of your best friends. And you don’t care, because this is the moment you’ve wanted more than anything, ever. 

And then he’s kissing you back. 

Jake doesn’t pull away like the fear in the back of your head thought he might.

It starts off sweet and short, chaste until he deepens the kiss slightly. After a few seconds, his eyes glaze over as he sits back to admire the way your lips glisten. 

A charged moment passes before his gaze turns dark, leaning in and invading your space once again. He captures your mouth even more intensely as he reaches out to cradle the back of your head, blunt forgotten to the side on an ash tray. His lips mold around yours, the pace escalating quickly like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. You can taste it on him, the bitter dregs of the sativa mixing into your saliva. 

His tongue darts out to drag against yours, taking advantage of your little gasps to deepen the kiss. Letting you melt into him, he nips and tugs at your lip gently with his teeth before licking it better. It’s hot and bothered and strained, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to let go after getting him like this. He unabashedly moans straight into your mouth, the sound shooting straight to your core as you whine against him.

“Jake—” you gasp into his mouth, hand on his chest to slow him down. 

He brushes your hand away, pulling you onto his lap so you can sit with your thighs around his waist — all without disconnecting his mouth from yours. Tilting his head, he lets your hands roam across the expanse of his chest before threading themselves back in his hair with a tug.

“Shit— Y/N,” he barely gets out, lips on yours again. “Keep doing that, baby.”

You can barely keep up with his pace, overcome with white hot pleasure that renders you momentarily incapable of thinking about anything else. You let out another gasp at hearing the way he calls you ‘baby,’ the name so unfamiliar to you that you almost feel tears sting the back of your eyes. It feels so right hearing them fall from his mouth.

Dropping your head into his neck, you lick a stripe up to his jaw and press wet kisses over his bruises. His hips immediately jerk in reaction, hands squeezing your waist as his head falls back over the edge of the couch. You’re in the middle of sucking a hickey into the skin next to the bulge of Adam's apple when he starts rambling, hand sneaking up under your tank to press against your stomach.

“Sweet, sweet girl,” he starts, taking a breath and moaning out loud when he sees the string of saliva that connects where your mouths part. “I’ve wanted this for so long, you don’t even know.”

“Jakey,” you mumble into his skin, voice breaking when his hand wanders up to cup you through your bra. Jake’s at war with himself, but he can’t fight desire, especially not when he can feel you shiver against him like you’ve never trusted someone more.

“Fuck, say that again f’me,” he curses before dragging your shirt up your stomach with his teeth, dipping just below to press kisses just below your chest with fervor. His nose presses against your skin as he inhales, mumbling about how he feels like he could stay in this position forever.

“Jakey please,” you whine, needy hands reaching out so that Jake can pull you to him again. “Need you. Bad.” 

He complies happily, groaning at the way you fit perfectly in his hands.

At some point, the pleasure gets too much and you find yourself rocking into him, head tucked into his neck as he sings praises into your ear.

“Shit baby, c’mere,” his hands can’t seem to keep still, dragging down your back to your thighs and back up to your face. “Take what you need from me.”

Your face burns as you lay the side of your face against his chest, his hand guiding your hips right against the bulge growing in his sweats. The other holds your head to him, making sure you’re comfortable before matching the pace of your rocking. 

“I’m all yours,” he whispers down at you, smiling when you cry out his name in response.

Your stomach seizes when you feel his hand start to creep under the waistband of your sweats, playing with the string before dipping under the elastic of your panties. You’re pressed flat against him, and feeling his arm creep against your stomach makes you feel things no man has made you feel before.

“Is this… is this okay?” He hesitates, pausing as he watches you carefully.

You nod against his chest rapidly, shutting your eyes when his pointer and middle finger finally push against your heat. You’re embarrassingly wet, the sound clearly audible as he begins to move.

“Oh baby,” he coos, resting his chin on top of your head as he starts to move his hand back and forth slowly, coating himself in your juices. “Someone’s needy, mm? Can’t believe you were hiding this from me…” he trails off, biting his lip.

You fail to hold back a moan, muffling yourself with his shirt and biting the fabric between your teeth. Jake chuckles as he feels the fabric get wet against his chest from your saliva, gently pulling it from you. Tears prick against your waterline at the pleasure. 

“Let me hear you fall apart, baby.”

You shake your head against him, babbling nonsense as his fingers get quicker, rolling your sensitive bud between his fingers before dipping into you. It feels like all the times you’ve pleasured yourself thinking of him mean nothing — the real thing isn’t even close to being compared. It’s ecstasy that you’ve never felt before, the second-hand high from earlier hitting you fully now. White appears at the edge of your vision, your breath catching as you fall against Jake.

The second he feels your thighs start to tremble around him, the pleasure in the pit of your stomach starting to build, he pushes two fingers into you slowly, spongy walls swallowing them right up. He sets a rhythm, coaxing you to ride his fingers while he kisses along the crown of your head. 

“There you go,” he whispers. “Just like that. Made for me, aren’t you?”

His fingers are cold as they curl inside of you, hitting that spot deep in you that you’ve never been able to reach yourself.

Jake’s jaw clenches as he watches you fall apart on his fingers, the sight of you coming undone unlike anything he’s ever seen before. His erection is almost painful at this point, and if you keep making those noises, he knows he’ll be ruining his pants in no time.

Your hips jerk, movements uncontrolled as the pleasure inside you builds quickly. You know you’re close when he drags his thumb against your puffy clit, pressing down before drawing shallow circles around it.

“Come on, baby. Let go for me.”

You shudder at his tone that’s dropped an octave lower, an obvious rasp in his voice from all the overstimulation. His fingers are coated in you, your saliva still on his skin. The pace of his fingers double, helping you chase your release as he leans down to press a messy kiss to your lips.

It’s finally when he thrusts up against the fabric of your pants that you shatter, coming apart with a broken moan as you bite his shoulder. Jake rocks you through it, helping you ride out your high with his fingers still inside of you. He doesn’t stop, continuing to push in and out until you push against his hand in protest.

“Jake,” you whine out, unable to say anything except his name as you slow your movements. His fingers slowly slip out of you, completely soaked before he brings them up to his mouth. His eyes burn into yours as he licks them clean, tongue circling around them before pushing against his tongue with a smile. You almost climax again at the sight, cheeks burning as you watch him hum around his own fingers.

“You were so good for me,” he praises.

You look down in embarrassment, not getting very far before he’s capturing your mouth in a searing kiss once again. You taste yourself on him this time, eyebrows furrowing at the taste of cum and weed. 

Jake doesn’t give you even a second to think before he’s pulling away again, adjusting himself in his sweats. You shift your hips to reveal a dark stain on the front of his grey sweats, gaping in awe when you realize that he came from the mere act of getting you off. Your movements had dragged his pants halfway down his hips, the band of his boxers completely out as he makes no move to fix them. He lifts his hips, manhandling you to sit almost against his stomach as he settles back into the couch, breathing heavily.

“Did you…?” you start, staring at the space when your bodies connect.

Jake turns his head to the side, the tips of his ears reddening.

“You did this to me,” he says with a pout, dragging a finger through the wetness that’s both a mix of yours and his. Poking his tongue into his cheek in mock annoyance, he squints up at you. “Little minx.”

You hover, letting your hand drag slowly over his bulge and down his leg as he hisses at the feeling.

His jaw drops when you slide to the ground before him, knees hitting the ground between his open legs. Looking up at him with innocent, blinking eyes, you tilt your head before tossing your hair to one side and getting comfy with your arms in his lap.

Jake thinks he can cum from the view alone, that pretty mouth pouting at him as you paw at his sweats. You pull at the strings, focused. His head swirls with warning sirens, closing his eyes as he thinks about all the things you’ve already done and what would happen if he took it further. 

Would Sunghoon murder him in cold blood? Probably.

You make noises of protest from the back of your throat when Jake gently takes both of your hands in his, pulling you up until he can press his nose against yours. You can see the internal conflict in his gaze, guilt flickering through him as he looks from your messy hair to your swollen lips.

“Want you in me…” you start, clumsily trying to pull out of his hold before falling forward as he tugs you into him.

Smoothing a hand over your hair, he shakes his head before wrapping his arms around you. 

“Not today, baby.”

You frown, suddenly overly conscious of everything. The way the strap of your tank is halfway down your shoulder, the way Jake’s still out of breath, the way you almost just went all the way with him. You seem to shrink, shifting out of his hold to sit back on your heels. The heat drains from your face, hands suddenly cold as you fold them together.

“Why? You don’t want me…?” You say quietly, almost like you don’t want him to hear you. Your heart drops, and it doesn’t help that he stays silent as your mind runs through all of the possibilities as to why. Does he regret it? Already?

…maybe his friendship with my brother is more important than this.

“What? No— what, that’s not—” he splutters, bewildered at the way you start to pull away. He can feel his chest stop as he watches your face fall, starting to turn away from him before he desperately reaches out to have you close again.

“Y/N, listen to me,” he says firmly, heart aching when you look back at him with confused eyes. “Listen to me before you jump to any conclusions. I know that head of yours.”

Your throat tightens, lashes lowered.

“There’s nothing I want more than you. All I’ve ever wanted is you, actually.”

Your mouth parts, surprised at the sincerity in his voice as he clasps your hands with a film shake. He sounds firm and sure, gaze determined as he confesses. He looks to the side, pausing.

“I hate that you’re doubting yourself because of me. And I know I’ve been terrible at showing it, my feelings towards— towards you. I know I’ve fumbled maybe a thousand times at telling you how much you mean to me, especially considering our friendship and your brother and our friends and all that— but I want this to be real, and I don’t want you to think this is just a heat of the moment thing. You mean much more to me than just this… and you deserve a love that’s patient,” Jake stares at you, the one that you only see when he feels like he’s won something worth fighting for. 

“I want to stop running away from my feelings, and I’m so sorry I let my fear get in the way of telling you this earlier. Can’t stop thinking about the time we could’ve had together if I just told you how I felt,” he shakes his head, a bittersweet taste on his tongue. “I’m sorry that you had to be the one to initiate something for me to be honest with you. I want to take it slowly with you, if you’d let me—”

“Jake—” you interrupt his chain of thoughts, putting a hand on his knee.

“—and instead of telling you, I would get jealous on my own and do stupid things like bodycheck Heeseung—like fuck, why did I even do that? Now he probably hates me too, oh god—”

“Jaeyun,” you say firmly, cupping your hand over his mouth to shut him up. He stares at you at the abruptness, lips twitching against your palm.

“Where did that come from?” You say softly, unable to hide your grin as giddiness overtakes you. “I— I’ve been the same way, silly. We’ve both been stupid.” You rest your chin on his knee, peering up at him. “Don’t apologize.”

His whole body seems to release all the tension that’s been building up, fingers carefully brushing the hair out of your face.

“God, how did I get this lucky,” he sighs out, throwing an arm over his forehead at your cute expression.

You giggle, overcome with the fact that Jake likes you. Jake likes you too.

“So you like me, huh,” you tease, scooting forward. Moonlight bounces off the side of your face as you shift, every tiny sound amplified: the wind rattling against the windows, the hum of the fridge, the soft shift of fabric when Jake leans forward. You can still feel where his hand had been on your waist, the ghost of his thumb at your jaw.

“Shut up,” he mumbles with a bashful smile, slightly mortified at how intently you’re looking at him. “Yeah. Badly.”

“And you want me— mmph!” you exclaim in surprise when Jake hooks his arm around your waist, his biceps flexing against you as he pulls you back into his lap. He spreads out on the couch, letting you curl comfortably in his chest with your face buried in his neck. The scent of cedar and bergamot orange clouds you, snuggling into him as he chuckles.

“Hm? What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought, baby.”

You’re squirming in his arms, trying to get away from his wandering hands when the front door clicks open with a beep. You jump, flinching as it creaks open. Jake doesn’t seem surprised. A head peeks through the crack before rolling his eyes at the scene before him.

“Get out of my apartment,” Sunghoon deadpans, kicking off his shoes, shimmying off his jacket and throwing it at the two of you. It hits you in the leg before falling to the ground. Tossing his keys and wallet onto the kitchen island, he grabs an apple off the counter before taking a bite and leaning his weight against it. Raising an eyebrow, he eyes the two of you.

You blink at him nervously, staring off into space somewhere between his shoulder and his wall. You hope Jake says something, because you sure aren’t. What if he gets mad? What if he hates this? What if—

Your brother must see the look on your face because he sighs, putting his apple down before gesturing vaguely at you. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Rockstar,” he snorts, pointing at Jake. “Bro’s been pining after you since we were like ten. This,” he looks pointedly between you and his best friend, “was gonna happen at some point.”

You whirl around to look at Jake, a dusty rose spreading over his cheeks as he glares at your brother.

“Really?” You ask in wonder, ignoring the sound of Sunghoon’s fake retching behind you.

“God, I hate love,” he continues in the background, fully ignored by you and Jake as the latter stammers his words at your attention.

“Yeah, our friends always say that I’m painfully obvious,” Jake confesses quietly, thumb rubbing circles against your leg.

“But… but what about earlier today?” You hesitate to ask, turning back to Sunghoon who’s now spinning himself around on a bar stool. “The girl from your stats class?”

“What?” your brother says absentmindedly, spinning himself once more before stopping with a snap. “Ohh, the girl from stats!”

“There was no girl… I— I wanted to make you jealous. It was so stupid,” Jake admits, his face heating up even more as Sunghoon bursts out into laughter behind you.

“Actually,” your brother starts, a smirk spreading across his face as he takes another bite of his apple. “She’s very real. And she also just sucked me off in the bathroom of the bar I came from, sooo,” he trails off, “I think the real winner tonight is me.”

“Holy TMI, dude,” Jake complains from under you, the timbre of his voice humming against your side. He covers your ears from Sunghoon’s crass mouth as you make a face at your brother, his laugh reaching you even with Jake’s hands protecting you.

“Anyway,” Sunghoon swings his legs off the stool, grabbing his phone before sneakily taking a picture of the two of you snuggled together on the couch. “Imma send this to Jungwon so he can stop blowing me up on Kakao. He’s been waiting for this since our first year, probably.”

You just sigh contently, happily pushing yourself into the warmth of Jake’s chest and relieved that you don’t have to hide your feelings anymore. The softness of his arms around you are no longer a daydream. The world shrinks to just this, the smell of him, the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric of his old hockey tee, the gentle press of his chin near your temple. His embrace is possessive and reverent, like you’re the most precious thing to him.

Your own breath finally slows.

For so long you’d been orbiting him — watching from across rooms, stealing glances, cataloging every laugh and look — and now, wrapped in his arms, that ache resolves into something quiet and full. You feel small in the best way, tucked against him, fitting into the hollow of his body. His hand moves absentmindedly along your side, curling into your skin and reminding you that this is very real.

There’s no more guilt humming at the edges of the moment, the pressures of facing your brother or telling your friends gone.

You finally have him.

“So sorry to interrupt,” Sunghoon’s voice bursts the moment, popping up in front of you with an exaggerated smile. “Love that this is happening. Super cute. Mom and dad will be thrilled, I bet.” He pauses, biting his pointer finger between his teeth before looking at the two of you with a pointed stare. “If you have sex on my couch though, different story. I’m shooting everyone in this room and then myself. Thanks.”

You gape at him as Jake mutters a smug “can’t promise I won’t try” from behind you, earning a hard smack on the arm.

“Joking, I’m joking, holy shit,” he chokes out, dodging to the side with you in his arms as your brother tries to land another hit. 

“You better be,” he says, eyes snapping down to the wet patch on the crotch of Jake’s pants. “‘Cuz that’s fucking nasty, man. I should’ve let Heeseung knock some sense into you while we were still on the ice.”

You groan in mortification, burying your face deeper into his chest like you could disappear into the fabric of his shirt. From above you, Jake lets out a low, amused breath, his arms tightening instinctively around you as you hide. You can feel his chest shake beneath your cheek as he looks up.

You let out a muffled whine against him.

Jake, infuriatingly, only smirks, chin resting lightly atop your head. “You only said she was off-limits, not the couch.”

“Jaeyun,” your brother warns, raising a hand at him.

“Okay, okay,” Jake chuckles, finally easing back just enough that you can peek out from behind him, cheeks burning.

Your brother’s expression softens when he sees your face. You’re mortified and flustered, but still fully in Jake’s arms.

He exhales. “You’re lucky I trust you more than any guy at this goddamn university.”

Jake’s laugh follows him down the hall, and his arms don’t loosen. If anything, he pulls you in a little closer. Not for show, but because he needs it.

“I know,” he looks down at you, determined.

“And for what it’s worth,” Sunghoon adds with a wicked smile, already turning toward his bedroom, “if you make her cry, you’re benched for the season, Sim.”

END.

—

NOTE. thank you for reading this very self-indulgent fic ‪‪❤︎‬ I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. pls leave any and all feedback, it always makes my day and helps improve my writing so so much! this was all solely fueled by my first college hockey game of the semester. ts was lit asf, i was so into it that i literally lost my voice the next day LMFAO [ i thought i'd share a small clip from the game, esp because of how much of this fic was inspired by the strong hockey culture where i grew up. for your viewing pleasure HAHA ]

xx, kiachiako

-

its 2am.

your best friend and former roommate, gabby, called you at 2 in the morning sobbing and barely able to form proper words. in an instant, you were outside her apartment’s front door.

“he fucking BLOCKED ME!!!” gabby wailed as soon as the door flung open, her voice so loud you swore it echoed throughout the building’s hallway. you stepped inside, already knowing what had happened.

see, gabby was so excited to tell you about this “new guy” a few weeks ago. she said that he was “the one” and “the love of her life”, and guess where that got her. crying at 2am with her best friend desperately trying to calm her down.

you poured a glass of water for gabby, sitting her down on the couch as you listen to this poor girl pouring her heart out about how she felt. the guy, named marcus or mason or something, had been flirting with her for weeks. but a few days ago gabby caught him kissing another girl at some bar, she was going to confront him through text only to realise that she’s been blocked.

you ask her if you were sure that who you saw at the bar was really him. big mistake.

she started sobbing again.

so you resorted to leaving the questions for when she's sane enough to not break down immediately. for now, you’d hug your best friend and pat her back as she sobbed into her hands.

you never really understood why situationships were such a big deal. sure, you two are unofficial yet you do couple shit. it has to hurt a little, you’re sure, but you’ll never understand why it reduces people to sobbing messes.

if they wont commit, just cut them off. easy.

lost in your thoughts, you continue half-heartedly listening to gabby rambling, her words slurred and barely audible from the fact that she's crying while talking. you glance at the clock in her living room, 4:07 am.

you have a job interview tomorrow, but you won’t just leave gabby crying alone. future you can deal with the sleep deprivation later.

-

decelis building.

you’ve been dreading this interview since the past month.

you don't have a job portfolio, you were obviously inexperienced. you didn't even know how you got the interview.

stepping into the building, you were greeted by an intimidating woman. blonde and middle-aged with a permanent scowl on her wrinkled face, “help you?” she asked, sounding more annoyed than friendly.

“i’ve got a job interview like… now?” you stammer out, sounding completely unsure of yourself. in which you are.

“a job interview?” you nod.

the blonde lady raises an eyebrow, but gets up from the chair anyway. she turns around to point at an area with a bunch of elevators, “take the one on the left to the 53rd floor, and take a right in the hallway and walk straight to the interview room.”

she hands you a black card, doesn't look like a credit card, “press this card onto the keypad beside the interview room’s door. it's the only one made of glass, you can't miss it.”

nodding along, you quickly made your way to the elevator. as you step in, high heels clacking on the marble floor, the sound of calming elevator music fills your ears yet does nothing to actually calm you down.

instead of letting your hands fidget nervously, you straighten your pencil skirt even when there’s clearly no wrinkles.

after an agonising moment that felt a beat too long, the elevator door opened with a “ding!” sound.

you walk out, internally screaming, and take a right just as the lady at the reception instructed you to do earlier. as you walk, you’re met with a clear door, just as the lady said. It's glass with a frosty texture, so you can't exactly see what or who is inside.

you press the black card onto the keypad next to the door and walk in. the person sitting there is a blonde man, looks about your age, is wearing glasses, and kinda looks like a cat.

“oh, hi,” he greeted, gesturing to the seat opposite from his, “take a seat.”

you sit down, watching as the blonde man with a nametag that writes “YANG JUNGWON, HR” studies you and writes on his clipboard.

“i’m yang jungwon, but just call me jungwon,” he paused for a moment before he continued, saying the words you dreaded so much, “your interview starts now.”

"oh- now?"

he raises an eyebrow, "yes, now."

... you absolutely fucked it up.

you were stuttering every 2 seconds, sounded like the embodiment of unprofessionalism, and overall fumbled it so badly you were sure that they would never email you again.

you could tell that jungwon really tried to help you. he held back frowns at your mediocre responses, tried asking you easier questions. but you knew even with all that help, you're simply a lost cause.

after minutes, hours, days of beating yourself up and being overly anxious, you finally got an email back.

none of the other words register to your sleep deprived brain, only the subject of the email.

“You’re hired!”

-

first day on the job, and you’ve already made a mess.

you were supposed to get your boss some coffee, but while trying to hand it to her, she stepped on your heels causing you to spill it all over her.

what the shit?

your boss gives you a piece of her mind, her insults not just targetting you but your entire family. maybe you should’ve just stayed unemployed.

“who even hired you?! i'm calling hr!” she screamed, stomping away like an angry child. you let out a breath you didn't know you were hiding, and take a few more deep breaths.

moments later, hr arrives and… it's the same guy who interviewed you? “i’m sorry i didn’t mean–” you try explaining, but your boss cuts in, “mr. yang, this bi… employee did it on purpose!”

jungwon furrows his eyebrows at your boss, “i don’t see any proof that she did it on purpose?”

yes, you thought, finally someone with common sense!

looking your boss up and down judgementally, jungwon says, “i don’t see a problem at all, dismissed.”

as he walked out of the office, he whispered to you as he walked by, "careful, your boss's notorious for making new hires' lives miserable. give it like three more months."

you’ve been on edge at work ever since. everything feels so strict compared to a normal 9 to 5. you don't want promotions, you just want to get paid.

when you got home at 10pm because your boss needed you to do her work for her, the first thing you did was flop down face first on your bed and call gabby.

“whats up?” gabby says through the phone, her voice cheery. you groan into the call, “i’m literally so fucking tired, i hate my job.”

you hear gabby sigh from the other line, “we’ve all been there. y’know, get on someone’s good side.”

“are you saying that i look like i’d be bullied?”

“no. im just giving you advice,” she pauses, “but, you kinda did get bullied by your boss on the first day of work.”

a groan comes from your end, “okay whatever. my back hurts,” you complain, tone whiny.

gabby chuckles from the other end of the phone, “fix your posture at work, dummy,” and she hangs up.

you hate this girl.

-

you notice it.

that jungwon guy has been finding excuses to be in your proximity. passing by your cubicle? check. “coincidentally” showing up in the printer room after you walk in? check. having your schedule changed because it was somehow “unlogical” and having it fit close to his? check.

and honestly, you don't mind it.

as you were finishing up your work and getting ready to leave, your boss walks over to your cubicle, “you have to work after hours today, approximately two more hours.”

you blink at the older woman as she drops a pile of paper work on your desk, “sorry?”

“two more hours.”

and she leaves.

oh, okay.

your eyebrows furrow, slowly sitting back down on your chair and reopening your laptop. your head turns, staring holes into the paper work like it was the bane of your existence. and it kinda was.

you notice an office was still lit up. the glass walls were frosty yet you could clearly tell that the lights were still on.

you had memorised the building layout already so you knew exactly who that office belonged to.

yang jungwon.

a lump suddenly formed in your throat, and you swallowed it down. you had work to do, now’s not the time to think about how you were basically alone in your workplace with your unfairly hot higher up.

as you tapped away on your keyboard, you see a figure beside you from your peripheral vision, looking up, you see him.

“hi,” you speak up first. he looks at you up and down, exactly like how he did during your job interview.

tension cracked between you two like a live wire, and you feel heat pooling low in your stomach. again, unfairly hot higher up.

you feel… something under his gaze. It wasn't that it was heated, more so powerful. like he knew that he had power over you.

he coughed and gestured to your paperwork, “do you need help with that?” you don't respond.

“hello?”

“oh sorry, yeah, i do.”

as he takes about two thirds of the pile, you awkwardly mutter, “uh, thanks.”

“dont mention it.”

you mentioned it. only to gabby later that night, at least.

-

he wants you, you know he does. maybe you were just being delusional, which thinking about it now you probably were. but thats not the point.

also, you were finally promoted from being an intern. good grief.

anyway, company night out, perfect time to make your move. you purposely sat next to him and pulled up your pencil skirt just a bit to tease the poor guy.

a few drinks in and you shouldve considered your horrible alcohol tolerance, but your plan was so genius that it was working even when you were three sheets to the wind.

“shes drunk, i should drive her home,” he sighed, gesturing to you as he talked to your coworkers. your coworkers drunkenly looked among themselves and shrugged.

so thats how you ended up in his car in the passengers seat.

you know hes staring, you know his eyes are definitely not on the road.

“you like me,” you slur out, lips jutting out in a pout, “why wont you do anything about it?” you were leaning over to him, seatbelt extending. jungwon bit back a groan and pulled over.

“yn,” he sighed, pinching his temple, “what are earth are you talking about?”

okay, yeah, maybe you were delusional. but play it cool.

“i said what i said,” you challenged, jabbing his chest with your finger, “you. want. me.”

and maybe playing it cool helped you, because now you both were in the backseat, fucking like rabbits in missionary. he knew it was wrong, god was it wrong. but he couldnt stop, neither could you.

“spit in my mouth,” you said in between gasps and moans, you open your mouth, tongue out aswell. jungwon looked stunned, “sorry?”

“spit in it!” you demanded, words jumbled as your mouth was kept open. he leaned down and spat right on your tongue, and you had to fight the urge to cum right then and there with his cock plunging in and out of you.

“ungh! yn, stop squeezing me like that or ill cum,” he whined, burying his face in the crook of your neck. he sounded so sweet, contrasting with the way his pounding into you right now.

just for fun and to tease him, you clenched your walls around his girth especially hard, and you immediately felt a warm heat in your lower belly.

“shit, did you just-” you laugh breathlessly, “what a fucking loser,” yeah you were being mean, but that was goddamn funny.

jungwon let out another whine, peppering your neck with kisses, “i warned you,” and in his defense, he did warn you.

“fuck this is… this was so wrong,” he stated the obvious. you bit your lip, “but it felt too right to be wrong,” you countered. he paused for a second before letting out a weak “yeah”.

-

for weeks you had been trying to put a label for both of you. after the incident in the car, you exchanged numbers. but it didnt really matter because he always left you on delivered.

but it had gotten physical. if you had a bad day? he eats you out in the printer room after hours, lapping up everything as if he was starved. he had a shitty meeting? you let him pound into you like you like you’re his personal pocket pussy, pumping load after load into you. good thing you were on the pill.

but even after all of this, still no label.

its been getting bad, you know this is all just physical and sex shit, but your heart has finally caught up to you. and you’re starting to gain… feelings?

you tried talking about it to him through text, but he brushed you off. this was getting frustrating, you were here tossing and turning in bed just because you had no idea if this guy didnt even like you because apparently, hes the king of mixed signals.

you get into your car and speed to jungwon’s house before you could even second guess yourself. he opens the door, barely got any chance to even speak before you push him back inside and kick the door shut behind you.

“you,” you murmur, taking multiple steps forward and backing him up. as soon as his back nears the couch, you shove him down onto it.

jungwon stares up at you, brows furrowed, “i thought we agreed to not talk to each other anymore,” a lump forms in his throat, but he swallows it down, adams apple throbbing.

“true,” you nod, looking down at him as you loom over the couch, “but i can’t keep pretending that i dont want you.”

you got down on the couch with him, straddling his hips. jungwon’s hands flew to your waist, his breaths growing quicker. your hands brace on the headrest beside either side of his head. looking at each other, both of your gazes are filled with one thing only: hunger.

then you lean down, and kiss him.

it wasn’t tender, wasn’t sensual. it was desperate, fast. like you two needed to make a point to both yourselves and each other. your hands move to cup his face, your kissing almost aggressive in nature.

you bite down on his lower lip, making him moan into the kiss. jungwon’s hands roamed all over. squeezing your hips before coming up to grab at your breasts.

“this is a mistake,” you mumbled against jungwon’s lips. they were moving urgently against yours, like he wanted this as much as you did.

you pull away to take off your shirt. jungwon's mouth goes dry as soon as he sees you shirtless, nipples hardened under your thin bra. he quickly followed suit as soon as he looks at your heated gaze. the moment his shirt lands on the floor, he leans in with a whine and kisses you again.

“you’re so needy,” you teased, tongue invading his mouth. when you pull back, you lean down to target his jaw and neck. leaving kisses and bites at the sensitive flesh, hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

jungwon whimpers brokenly, hands scrambling to unclasp your bra. his fingers pinch at your nipples, causing you to arch into him. biting down on the spot near his collarbone, you soothe the pain with a quick flick of your tongue.

your hand covers the growing bulge in his sweatpants, feeling his hips buck up into your hand.

“fuck- yn, please,” he pleads, not caring now pathetic he sounds. when your lips trail back up to his jaw, he throws back his head, hand leaving your breasts to grip at your hips. his fingers dig into your skin, surely leaving bruises behind.

your lips and teeth leave hickey after hickey on jungwon’s neck and jaw, drawing needier sounds from him. when you pull away to breathe, you hook your thumbs under his sweatpants, urging them down.

the rational part of your brain tells you to think before you do anything else, but to be honest, you had stopped thinking minutes ago. his eyes widen, practically leaking in his pants as he yanks your jeans and panties down in one smooth motion.

you shove him so hes lying on his back, you sink down just enough so his tip is inside your cunt. you give it a quick squeeze before sitting up again. you did this again and again until he was squirming and whimpering beneath you.

you did it one more time, just to test the waters. but something in him snapped. he bucked his hips up suddenly, burying himself to the hilt inside you.

“oh, fuck!” you moaned at the sudden intrusion. with a grunt he flipped your positions, getting you on your hands and knees before shoving your face into the couch cushions.

“mmf!” you whine, words muffled from the couch, “shut up, you tease,” his head falls back when your walls clench around him. he starts moving, and it wasnt gentle. his cock pistons in and out, the couch inching to the side with every harsh thrust.

“fuckk!! you feel too good,” he whimpers even as he was the one fucking into you and using you like a fleshlight.

you were screaming into the couch, something that sounded like “so big, so big”, but his mind was so hazy that he wasnt sure at this point.

he fucks you again and again until hes spent, filling up your tight little cunt with all hes worth. he pulls out with a loud squelch, and he witnesses your cunt clenching and unclenching to push out a glob of your combined juices.

he frowns in disapproval before gathering the glob with his fingers and pushing it back inside you.

“so,” you mutter, finally looking over your shoulder, “still no label?” jungwon smiles, “ill think about it," you rolled your eyes playfully, "yeah you better, or this'll happen all over again."

"y'know what?" he joked, "maybe we should keep this all unlabelled," you gasp theatrically, pushing him back down on the couch.

Jake is the one people notice first. Something about him draws the eye without demanding it. He's got his hands in his jacket pockets, his head tilted as he listens to whatever Ni-ki is saying. He's the kind of person who makes you feel seen without trying. People have been talking about Jake since freshman year, about how he helped that transfer student find her way to the dining hall during the first week, about how he stayed up all night helping Sunghoon study for a final, about how he's the reason their group became a group in the first place.

People have been talking about Heeseung for just as long. They talk about the way he plays basketball, the way he's been scouted since his first season. Where Jake makes you feel safe, Heeseung makes you feel like you're standing at the edge of something dangerous. He walks with his eyes scanning the crowd like he's looking for something or someone and when his gaze passes over you, it lingers for just a second longer than it should. He's been doing that for four years. 

You've known them both for four years. You've watched them become the people everyone talks about. You've heard the whispers of the girls who want Jake's attention, the ones who want Heeseung's, the ones who want both and the girls who've tried and failed to get there attention.

And you've been in the middle of it. Not by choice, maybe, though you've never exactly stepped out of it either. You've let them orbit you, let them watch you, let them want you. You've told yourself it doesn't mean anything, that you're not doing anything wrong by letting them both stay close. And that you're not responsible for what they feel, that you're not leading anyone on, that you're just existing in the space between two people who have been there for four years.

The problem is you're not sure you believe yourself anymore.