synopsis âł After the unfortunate passing of a family friend, youâve been dragged back to a town that once meant everything to you. There, youâre faced with someone you wish you had never left all those years ago.
pairing âł townboy!nicholas x f!reader
genre/tags âł ANGST, hurt comfort, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, reconciliation, fluff, (implied) midwest americana
warnings âł cussing, tension, emotional vulnerability, mentions of verbal abuse, depression, grief, guns and hunting, smoking (very minor), daddy issues, thereâs some other side characters that are ocs, suggestive content, ââââ to replace y/n
wc âł 10.1k+
a/n âł okay so iâve been delaying this fic for like 6 months and iâm finally finished omfg. this fic was heavily inspired by the lyrics of Royal Blue Walls by Jane Remover and a lot of Ethel Cain. anyway, hope you enjoy this, if thereâs anymore warnings i should add lmk
Your face is planted on the car window, eyes watching the passing streetlights through raindrop-stained glass. The heavy rain muffles the sounds of revving engines and blaring car horns from the traffic around you.
The city.
Youâve lived there for many years, nearly a decade. Long ago did you move there, from when you were just about old enough to enter high school.
Having spent your teen years in the city, youâve had your fair share of relationships and friendships, with people from a more modernistic world. People that are used to seeing tall skyscrapers, blinding city lights, and densely packed public spheres.
Youâve gotten used to it, being around cityfolk. You feel like youâve finally managed to âfit inâ no matter how hard it was for you to digest a new way of life, far too different from the one you were used to.
And even then, there's always that lingering feeling of being⊠misplaced.
As if you were a toy, put into the wrong dollhouse. Barely passing as someone that belonged, in a domain that was never meant to hold you.
You couldnât pinpoint what it was that made you feel like that. The people? Or your surroundings? You didnât know. Into every room, every gathering, and every community you were ever a part of in the city â that feeling followed.
But lately, youâve been trying not to dwell on it for too long. Especially now that youâre in a car, driving away from said city. You watch the cityâs silhouette disappear into obscurity as the distance grows.
âare you alright, sweetie? you seem awfully quietâ your mother asks you, her hands still gripped onto the steering wheel, gaze set on the road.
You give a quiet hum in response.
âi know this trip was sudden, but you know exactly how much we owe dahlia,â she reminds you, âand honestly⊠iâd never forgive myself if we didnât at least try to repay herâ
âi know mom, itâs alrightâ you reassure her.
Dahlia was a long time family friend. A kind soul with a heart that only sought to give, especially to the people that needed it the most. When your father passed, you and your mother were on the receiving end of her charity.
She helped provide financial support. House bills, daily necessities, standard education â anything that your family couldnât pay for with the money your father had left behind. Without her, you wouldnât have been able to move to the city.
Without her, you wouldnât have been able to survive.
Now that dahliaâs passed, your mother is determined to make it up to her, even if sheâs gone. And so, she chose to become one of the funeral organizers. This meant going to where dahlia lived â hence, the road-trip.
To a place you grew up knowing. To a town that you havenât been to since you left all those years ago.
Itâs small and rural, bearing a name most wonât recognize.
The kind people would read once in a lifetime whilst skimming through old pamphlets and newspapers. A town miles away from the nearest city, taking hours to drive to no matter which direction you come from.
Unlike most cities, the town is mildly inhabited. And in a lot of ways, traditional.
None of those flashy billboards displayed on any of the buildings, or metallic rumbling from constant on-road traffic.
You enjoyed how sparingly they used lights there too. The townâs dim lighting allowed the stars to shine clearly in the night sky, which was a sight youâve longed to see again after spending so many years away.
Everything there was un-overwhelming, is how youâd describe it. Not boring, just calm, which is something you were fond of. It makes you think that maybe, one of the things you missed the most was the tranquility of it all.
âweâre hereâ your mother announces. After several hours on the road, you arrive. Your motherâs car slows down as it drives through the townâs rougher roads.
Watching each old building go by, you begin to feel a warmth blooming in your heart.
This is home.
Or was.
It feels just as it did back then. You can envision your younger self strolling through every street that you pass, almost like watching a memory in third-person.
Just seeing the town center was enough to leave you fulfilled. And yet, you havenât even gotten to your childhood house.
The house you grew up in is on the townâs outermost part â quieter than the rest.
A small dirt path leads to it, barely distinguishable. Itâs within walking distance, but itâd a bit more difficult to navigate if youâve never been there.
The path ends at a row of old houses, all lined up along a lakeâs shore. And there, your childhood home stood â unchanged.
Well, somewhat unchanged.
Although cared for, the wooden planks that were once sturdy creak a lot more compared to when youâd last been there. And, you donât remember the paint being that worn out.
But besides the obvious signs of aging in the house, it was liveable, homey even. Youâd have to thank dahlia for taking care of the house so well while she was still there.
âhey, âââ your mothers voice snaps you out of your thoughts. âyeah?â
âjust leave your bags here, we can unpack later tonight, i know youâre tired tooâ you nod and lay your belongings down.
With your newfound free time, you take a minute to look around the place. Noticing the floorboards tainted by a faint light from the sky outside.
You look out the window, itâs getting dark. Youâre about to turn away, but something else catches your eye.
The lake.
Without much thought, you make your way to the large body of water in front of your home. Only takes a short walk going downhill and there itâs at.
As you walk, you take in the scene, feel the breeze trail across your skin, and watch the sun disappear into the tree line, far off across the lake.
Your eyes wander down to the shore of the lake. And you spot it â the dock. The dock that you used to hang around as a child.
Despite being such an insignificant structure to most people, it means everything to you. Carrying many of your early memories, like the first time your father taught you how to reel in a fish, or the countless times youâve played along the shallow waters around the dock itself.
Those are the times you miss the most. When things were simpler, when the innocent joys of life hadnât been taken away from you, and when living didnât feel like much of a burden to carry, but a gift to cherish.
You snap out of it when the silence is interrupted by the sound of a door creaking behind you. From the house right next to yours. A man taking out trash.
You donât recognize him at first.
Thatâs until you make eye contact â you know exactly who he is by then.
His eyes widen, like heâs seen something impossible. You expect him to say something, do something at least â only for him to turn right back into his home, leaving you all alone.
The door shuts loudly, making you flinch.
Silence beckons once again.
It was nicholas. You havenât seen him in years.
A man you have a novelâs worth of history with, yet all you could do was look at him.
When you were younger, he was pretty much your only friend. The only one around your age really, but you were closer to him more than anyone else.
Ever since the wangâs introduced him to you, you and nicholas were stuck by the hip. It helped that he was your next-door neighbour, making it much easier for the two of you to stay close.
The highs, the lows, no matter what, you were together, inseparable.
And the one thing youâll always distinctly remember about him is how he helped you cope with your fatherâs condition.
For as long as you could remember, seeing your father bed-ridden, devastatingly ill, and barely moving was nothing new. He wasnât that sick earlier on in your life, still being able to work and spend quality time with you and your mother.
But as time went on, and as you grew older, he fell more and more ill.
In those times, more than ever, did you feel grief. Not when he passed away, no â instead you grieved more when he was alive, yet incapable of speaking to you. When all he could do was hold your hands and stay in bed, barely clinging on to his life. It was devastating.
Whenever the illness took a toll on him, whenever your heart couldnât bear to see or hear his cries, the only person that kept your mind at ease was nicholas. He stayed by your side when you were crying, he sat with you by the dock when you were alone, and he held onto your hands tightly when all you wanted to do was let go.
He was just there, and that itself meant the world to you.
Nicholas kept your head up when your family was going through its darkest times. He was the kindest person youâd ever met and you wouldnât have ever been able to get through it without him.
Despite all of that, behind his bright demeanor, you knew he didnât have it easy. You knew the look on his face whenever he left his home. And you heard the voices from next door, the shouting, the clashing, everything.
Deep down, you knew. For nicholas, home didnât feel safe â home didnât feel like home.
With the way his father treated him. With how ruthless his fatherâs standards were. You knew that no matter how hard nicholas tried for him, it meant nothing.
Nicholas would tell you how difficult it was to satisfy him. How much he didnât want to be like him. How much he disliked him and his habits.
He would often drag nicholas into his personal interests â hunting, to be exact. You remember how nicholasâs father would take him on routine hunting trips to âtoughen him upâ. Teaching him to use rifles, skin game, and butcher meat.
Nicholas grew to hate hunting. Not because he couldnât handle anything squeamish or unpleasant to the eyes, but because it was the one thing that reminded him of his father the most. The one activity he couldnât escape under his fatherâs care.
And you knew it overwhelmed him. He just wanted to get away from it all, but you knew his father wouldnât listen. So you stood by him, because the one thing you didnât want was for nicholas to feel unheard, or worse, alone.
Simply put, you cared for him and he cared for you. Which made you, undoubtedly, love him. Not necessarily in a romantic way, you were just really grateful that someone wanted to be there for you â that someone actually made you feel like you belonged.
However, everything seemed to have changed when your father passed.
The world youâd known your entire life just crumbled right in front of your eyes and you couldnât do anything about it.
His passing burdened your family in every way possible, both mentally and financially. You and your mother were in shambles.
Since the familyâs source of income had always been from your father, his passing had left an undeniable fate. You and your mother were going to lose everything. Every dollar and possible opportunity for the future was bound to go down the drain.
So you thought.
Thankfully, an angel in the form of a family friend, dahlia, decided to swoop in and offer your mother a well-paying job. It was like a miracle for your family.
But there was a huge catch â you had to move away to the city.
When your mother told you, your heart dropped. Not only did you lose your father, but you had to lose the one place that actually knew you.
Leaving meant losing everything you cared for, including nicholas.
Back then, you had no clue how to break the news to him. You were stuck in a whirlwind of contemplation. Constantly asking yourself, how should i tell him? repeatedly. Staying awake overnight, going over every outcome for hours on end.
Despite days of deciding, the choice you settled with was to simply â not tell him.
Cruel, you knew that, but nothing couldâve prepared you to face him, so you just... left.
You still remember that day. It was raining. Loud rumbling from the sky and dark clouds slowly covering the town from above. Glowing a beautiful blue with every burst of lightning.
You remember a forecaster mentioning through the carâs radio that a âonce in a decadeâ storm was brewing over where you were.
Itâs a detail youâll never forget.
Even with the thundering storm, your mother pushed through and drove out of town to the city. There was no looking back. All you had was your mother, the feeling of grief, and the guilt of leaving nicholas.
Youâre afraid to think that heâs grown to hate you for leaving. Just the possibility of it has been eating you up ever since you stepped out of town.
Until today, you didnât have a clue on how he felt about you. Your mother didnât keep contact with the wangâs either, and so you were left with no answers.
Except now, with the reaction he had when he saw you before, you have a feeling it isnât anything good.
The next day comes fast. Down the staircase in tired steps, you wipe your eyes as you go. Your mother is already sitting by the window downstairs, going through her schedule.
âmorning, momâ you say, still fighting back a yawn. âmorning, sweetieâ as she pulls out a chair for you.
âcome sit, i need a bit of your helpâ she pats the empty seat. You take a seat as she shows you a sheet of paper.
âthis is a list of supplies weâre still missing, you don't have to buy them today though, just make sure we have them in timeâ she explains.
You take the list and read through it, mind still hazy from just waking up.
âoh and tonight, weâre going to be eating dinner with the wangâsâ your entire body shoots up.
âweâre⊠what?â you peer at your mother. âcome on, iâm sure itâll be nice to catch up with them, and youâll get to meet nicholas tooâ she says, not aware of the complicated situation between the two of you.
âyeah, rightâ you give her an awkward smile and continue reading the list. Youâre spiralling at the thought of meeting him face to face again, let alone talking to him.
And now, youâre standing right in front of the wangâs door. Time goes by way too quickly when youâre dreading something, you think.
You hear footsteps shuffling on the wooden floors. The door finally opens, letting out a warm light, contrasting the dark night outside.
âwelcome back!â mrs wang invites you both in. The house is just as it used to be, but maybe a bit more furnished. You make your way to the dining table.
No nicholas, alright.
You greet nicholasâs father and take a seat across from your mother. You canât help but notice that the only empty seat left is right beside you.
âso, howâve you been ââ?â mr wang asks. âiâve been great, i graduated recently and iâm currently looking for a jobâ you tell them.
Thinking of your latest life upbringings, you share many of the new experiences you and your mother have had in the city
Like how your mother was able to afford her first car and how youâve been admitted into a high-ranking university.
And most importantly, how both of you have learned to excel, even in grief.
So far, nobodyâs brought up the elephant in the room, which is making you even more nervous. You often catch yourself taking peeks at the staircase and anxiously bouncing your leg.
Youâre trying your best to control your unease, but itâs getting harder and harder as time goes by.
Itâs been about half an hour since youâve sat down for dinner. Youâve given up on waiting for nicholas. Maybe itâs better that he doesnât come down, thatâs what you tell yourself.
But just as you let your guard down, lo and behold, nicholas appears.
He stops for a moment when he sees you. His face is plastered with all sorts of emotions you canât even decipher. He greets your mother before walking towards the chair conveniently placed right next to you.
Now you are sitting inches away from him, way too close. The air feels so thick you could probably cut a hole through it.
âah, itâs so nice seeing the two of you together again, youâre like each other's halves afterallâ nicholasâs mother says endearingly.
You give an awkward smile and nod in response. Itâs surprising how they havenât caught on yet, seriously.
Whilst the conversation goes fairly well between your parents, both of you are dead silent. Heâs just hunched and quietly eating, not even sparing a glance at you. And youâre leaning against your chair, looking at his back.
He's different, really different.
Not just his looks, but his demeanor, his mannerisms, so much about him has changed. He used to look more⊠content. Now, itâs almost as if it has been replaced with something darker. A change that you think can only stem from hardship and difficult times.
Despite that, youâre sure heâs still in there. This nicholas might feel unfamiliar, but itâs not at the point that heâs become a complete stranger to you.
Heâs like a new song, and it just happens to have a melody you used to know. Different, of course, but you still know how it goes.
At times, you see him twisting the rings on his fingers, a habit he used to have whenever he was anxious. Or how frequently he runs his hands through his hair, like he used to whenever he didnât know how to act while feeling fidgety. Some things never change.
An hour into the dinner, heâs still just as closed off as he was in the beginning. Sometimes, you catch him stealing looks at you. Most of the time however, he just sits there, listening. Both of you still answer questions like nothingâs wrong, but youâre pretty sure theyâve already noticed how tense it is between the two of you.
When both of your parents finish up, you get up from your seat. With your body already faced away from him, you turn back one last time. âsee you, nichoâ is all you say, before turning back and walking out the door. He had this subtle surprised look, maybe he didnât expect you to say anything â but you did.
Even as the door slowly closes shut, heâs looking at you, still unreadable.
You begin walking back to your house with your mother. âwhatâs up with you two?â she asks, a question laced in concern. You stay silent and look away towards the lake. ânicholas and i,â you let out a long breath, âit just hasnât been the same between us since we leftâ you look back at her. She stays quiet for a moment.
âyou should talk to himâ giving a simple and concrete answer as you both approach the doorstep.
âclear up all the misunderstandings while you still have the time,â she pauses, âyou might never have the chance againâ her eyes meet yours. She gives you a pat on your back before entering the house.
The dinner wasnât bad. Quite the contrary actually, you felt a bit thrilled. Youâre glad he was willing to see you. With your motherâs words in mind, you hold on to the hope that reconciliation is possible between you and nicholas.
Next morning, youâre instructed to buy supplies for the funeral. Mostly minor needs, like stationary for the guest book. As well as a picture frame
You head to a local store in the town circle. Still in the same location it used to be when you were younger, but itâs without a doubt grown and changed with time.
The shop was renovated whilst you were gone. Its old wooden front was changed into polished bricks and white stone, which cleaned up the entrance.
The sound of bells chime in when you open the door. The layout isnât as different as you thought. Bigger though, more aisles and intricate sectioning. The shelves have been replaced with taller ones. Ones you canât look over anymore.
Itâs nice seeing how much this store has grown since youâve left.
At times, you wonder what else has changed since youâve been gone. Truth be told, you know exactly what has â who has, even.
You navigate your way through the packed aisles and scan for the stationary area. As you pick out the pens you need, you hear the door bells chime again, but you donât put much thought into it. There are new steps coming in, but you canât be bothered anyway, the racks are blocking your vision.
Your shopping continues to the back of the store, where small furniture items are displayed. You see wooden trays, salt shakers, and coffee mugs with quirky quotes written on them that are very obviously outdated.
It should be easy to find picture frames in a place like this. And yet, your search so far has been unfruitful. You probably look like an idiot right now, looking at the same spots over and over again in hopes that you just missed it.
Suddenly, you hear a voice from behind you. A very familiar voice.
âare you⊠looking for something?â he questions with a hesitant tone.
Before you even turn your head, you already know who it is.
âoh- uh, hi nicholas,â you stutter, âiâm looking for picture frames for dahliaâs⊠you knowâ your speech is more stuttery than usual.
You can barely make eye contact with him. Youâre shocked he even wanted to help you to begin with.
He looks off towards the shelves for a bit and finally points â upwards?
âitâs up thereâ he says. Oh. No wonder you couldnât find it. Itâs literally in an upper compartment you wouldâve never even looked at.
âthanks, nichoâ you say. You tiptoe and reach for one of the frames. Your entire body is stretched out at this point, but your fingers can barely even graze it.
Your feet give out and lay flat after a few tries. You slowly turn your head to nicholas already with a stature that can only be read as waiting. Patiently waiting for you to let him help.
He steps closer and reaches up to grab it for you. âhereâ as he passes it into your hand.
You look at the frame, then up at him. No less awkward than before, but you muster up the courage to give a small âthank youâ before heading to the cashier.
After checking out, you and nicholas end up walking back home together. Mostly because you were both headed in the same direction.
Throughout the walk, he stays as closed off as ever, and youâre not sure if you should try to start a conversation at all.
But you try anyway.
âhas everything been okay since i left?â he turns his head towards you, slightly caught off-guard. At first, he looks down as if thinking.
âyeah, weâve been⊠fineâ he answers, his voice grows quieter for each word. He looks somewhat uninterested? avoidant? Youâre not sure exactly, and you donât want to find out.
âthatâs good, iâm glad youâre okayâ you tell him, abruptly ending the conversation. Mostly out of fear that youâre bothering him.
The rest of the walk is in absolute silence all the way to your doorstep. You wave him off with a goodbye. He only gives you a small smile. The type of smile people give only to be polite.
It looks ingenuine.
Your hands find the doorknob. Every step to your room is heavy. Jaw clenched. Eyes starting to swell, barely even realising it.
You want him to open up, you really do. In the back of your mind, you know that prying might lead to a situation much worse than how it already is.
Things could be better, but his acknowledgement of you today is already enough to leave you satisfied.
It makes you think that not allâs lost. Even if deep down, youâre afraid. Afraid that youâve already screwed this up before even trying to have a meaningful conversation with him.
Still, youâre clinging onto the glimmer of hope that heâll let you into his life again. That maybe, heâll be willing to give your friendship another shot.
Golden rays shine through your window. A vibrant glow is cast upon your face as the sun rises. The light seeping through your eyelids wakes you.
Sleeping hasnât been easy ever since you came back. Youâve never really been an insomniac, but lately too much has been on your mind. Every time you close your eyes a thought manifests.
And of course, you cry.
You donât particularly remember how much you cried last night, itâs just evidently clear you did.
The root of it all?
Well, youâre not sure if itâs the same feeling that followed you from the city, or if itâs the newfound guilt from seeing nicholas these past few days.
One thingâs for sure, anybody with working eyes can tell that somethingâs been bothering you. Your tired and swollen eyes are a sign in itself. Which is exactly why you plan on not meeting with anyone at all for the day.
Well, thatâs what you wanted.
Three knocks. Three knocks on the front door is all it takes for your planned isolation to fall into pieces. With slight hesitation, you reach out to open the door.
âhi, can i help-â you pause. Seriously?
â-nicholas, what are you doing here?â youâre in complete disbelief. Of all people to see you in your current state, it just had to be him.
And now heâs looking you dead in the eyes â examining it, even.
Yeah, he knows youâve been crying.
He presses his lips into a line before eventually speaking. âyour mother, she told me to have breakfast with you cause she wants us to, well â talkâ he deadpans.
Maybe if it were someone else, you would be questioning why theyâd even listen to someone else's mother to this extent. But knowing nicholas, you know very well how compliant he can be.
ââŠbreakfast, where exactly?â you ask dumbfounded. âanywhere you want, i guessâ his voice trailing off. You take a moment to jog your memory. Itâs been so long since youâve eaten out in town.
And really, thereâs only one place that really comes to mind.
âhow about the diner?â you suggest.
Nicholasâs eyes shoot up the moment he hears you. You know that he used to like eating at the diner. Especially, with how often the both of you used to go there, so you think itâs quite fitting.
Both of you start making your way to the diner. Itâs a tad farther than most of the other establishments in town, but definitely worth the walk.
You come to a halt at the dinerâs doorstep. Different, is your immediate thought. Freshly painted walls, modern decor, and newly set up hanging lights. Not nearly as dingy as it used to be.
Walking in, youâre greeted with a familiar face. âwell if it isnât ââ!â the woman calls out. You audibly gasp.
âmrs moreau, long time no see!â you greet her. Mrs moreau is someone you didnât expect to reunite with ever again, knowing she was already of old age when you last met her.
But here she is, living and breathing with the same kind and caring smile you grew up seeing.
Youâre guided to the booth you used to sit at with nicholas. Right next to the glass wall facing the street. The seats have been refurbished with a fresh maroon leather, new and eye-catching. Brand new art pieces are splayed across the dinerâs walls, which you remember being emptier than it is now.
âyouâve really done wonders with the place while i was goneâ as you took a seat across from nicholas.
âyâthink so? iâm glad to hear thatâ she lays down the menu on your table. You give her a smile.
Mrs moreau takes a look at nicholas, then back at you. âiâm quite delighted to see you two together again,â you and nicholas share an awkward look, âyouâve missed a lot, you know?â she says.
âiâm awareâ you let out a short laugh.
âhave you told her about all the things youâve done, nicho, dear?â she asks. âuh, like what?â he replies, with slight confusion in his tone.
âlike when you landed your first job, or⊠when you learned how to cook with meâ she says, recalling nicholasâs experiences. He laughs.
âyou mean, when i worked here part-time for a few weeks? i wouldnât really call that my first jobâ he laughs. You look at nicholas with raised brow. âyouâve worked here?â itâs quite a simple question, but enough to signify how much youâve missed out on his life.
âuh, sort ofâŠâ a short pause as he shifts into a comfortable position. âhonestly, it was more like a punishment for accidentally scraping the side of my dadâs carâ he admits.
âhey, at least you got to have fun making dishes with me, no?â she gives him a playful nudge. Nicholas lets out a sincere laugh.
Itâs great hearing him all happy and full of joy like this again. This might be the first time youâve seen his younger self really shine through that facade heâs been hiding behind.
After catching up, mrs moreau takes your orders and leaves the two of you alone.
Nicholas is busy fiddling with the salt shakers while waiting, cute. He isnât paying much attention to you, but you know he feels your gaze.
Heâs pretty when focused. In a way that can only be described as pure, like the world he seems to despise is far and out of reach, unable to bother him.
You snap out of it when he finally looks up at you, realizing that youâve been staring. Abruptly, your body straightens as you clear your throat.
âuhm- so, nicho, what other things have you done that I don't know of?â you ask, clumsily.
He ponders for a while. âwell, i got my driverâs license,â he answers, âwhich was after the car scraping incident if you were wonderingâ he adds. You hum in response.
âso⊠rest assured we wonât get into any trouble if you drive me somewhere?â you try to joke. He grins. âtrust me, my slightly reckless driving days are over, âââ he laughs.
Butterflies immediately fill your stomach. You made him laugh. You give yourself a mental pat in the back, heâs finally opening up and youâre all for it.
âbesides, where would you even want me to drive you? thereâs literally nothing for miles around townâ he asks.
âi donât know either honestly, i guess being your passenger princess just crossed my mindâ you reply sarcastically. Nicholasâs eyes go wide.
Oops. You didnât mean for that to come out as flirty as it did.
Thankfully, comes mrs moreau with your orders in hand. You donât know how you wouldâve survived that silence if it werenât for her.
âhere yâgo kids, enjoy!â she lays your food down with a sweet smile before leaving again.
Although the rest of the breakfast is quiet, it is comfortable. Which is a nice change, knowing that the interactions leading up to now have been nothing but stiff.
Both of you finish up and get ready to leave the diner. You wave your goodbye to mrs moreau and follow nicholas out. Breathing in the fresh air, you begin your walk back home with nicholas in silence, yet again.
Except this time, heâs the one that breaks the silence. âare you going to be doing anything later?â he asks softly, as if heâs afraid of startling you.
You shrug before responding.
ânot much i can do here, reallyâ which is the honest truth about town. With its tranquility, also comes its lack of any recreational entertainment.
He replies with a small hum. âwhat about you?â you return the question. He opens his mouth as if wanting to speak, but holds back. Your head tilts subconsciously.
âitâs nothing, i guessâ he stutters.
Thatâs a bit strange. Youâre definitely curious as to whatâs bothering him, but you choose not to pry. You donât even have to, cause after a few steps, nicholas tells you himself.
âactually, iâm going to beâŠâ he draws out his answer, ââŠhuntingâ whilst heâs giving you a look.
A look that screams i know exactly what youâre thinking.
âdonât you⊠hate hunting?â you ask, with slight caution in your voice. The nicholas you grew up knowing despised hunting. So hearing this was quite the news to you.
âi do, but iâm going with my dad â and you know how he isâ his voice is laced with bitterness. You donât blame him.
Eventually, the distance to his house narrows, and you come up to its front lawn. His truck is parked right on the side of the road.
You hear a voice calling you from behind the truck. Itâs mr wang, nicholasâs father. âââ! itâs great timing that youâre here,â his hand lands on nicholasâs shoulder âweâre about to go out for a huntâ he says.
âyeah, he mentioned it to me alreadyâ you answer with a half-assed smile to mask the unease.
âreally? i was thinking, why donât you come with us?â he asks. In that very moment, you could see nicholasâs bewildered expression.
âoh- i mean,â you give nicholas a panicked look, then turn back at his father, âi guess⊠i could come, if thatâs okay with you twoâ you reply hesitantly, slightly taken aback by the sudden invite.
âperfect! weâll be going in thirty â in the meantime, you can go get ready, okay?â he exclaims. You nod in agreement.
âright, come on help me out with the gear, nichoâ he then gives nicholas a hard pat in the back and drags him off, leaving you as they went inside.
Hunting wasnât really how you expected to spend the afternoon. But you could be there for nicholas, which is the only thing that really matters to you right now.
After half an hour, you head towards nicholasâs house in attire somewhat suitable for a trip like this. You see the garage opened up and decide to take a peek. Inside, you see nicholas with his back facing you by the workbench.
You slowly approach him. The garage was dark, only one lightbulb hanging by a wire in the center of the room, giving off a dim light thatâs barely enough to see clearly inside. Your eyes stray towards the ash wooded walls that were highly decorated with plaques, shed tools, and flags all around.
But at the farthest side, where nicholas was faced, stood the treasured gun rack. Rifles placed in every slot across the wall, each visibly well-taken care of. Almost as if they were displayed like trophies, instead of firearms.
And right above it all, like the jewel in a crown, is a shoulder mount that you havenât seen in ages. It used to creep you out as a child, and the impression it gives you now really isnât that far off.
Having a taxidermied deer head just hung around is quite odd, no? Well thatâs what you think.
With several steps, youâre now just a few feet away from nicholas. And somehow, he still hasnât noticed you. You peak over his shoulder and see him prepping his gun.
âi like your rifleâ your voice breaks the silence, making him flinch. His eyes immediately dart to your face.
âgeez, you scared the living shit out of meâ his tense demeanor slowly softens as he processes your presence. Quickly, his gaze goes right back to the rifle in his hands. âmy bad, didnât mean to scare youâ you take a step beside him.
âjust curious on what you were so focused onâ you say, especially when it was to the point he hadnât even registered your presence until you spoke.
âiâm just checking the components on my rifle, remington 700, standard procedureâ he explains. You hum. It might be the first time youâve ever seen him handle a gun like this â with the utmost care and gentleness.
Moments pass, and all youâve done is look at him as heâs inspecting the firearm. And maybe you stared at him a bit too intently, cause heâs been stealing glances at you like heâs worried.
âlook,â nicholas lays his rifle on the table before turning towards you, âi honestly donât know why you agreed to joining, cause i know for sure that youâre not into the whole shooting animals charadeâ he confronts.
âso tell me, why do you want to come with us?â he asks with his hand rested on the table, looking straight into you.
You stay still for a second, taken aback that heâd be so upfront about it. But eventually, you gather yourself and reply.
âi just want to keep you company, nicho,â you look away from his sharp gaze, âyou know, now that i actually canâ it is a solemn confession of your intentions, youâre not sure how heâll take it, but all you hope for is that heâll understand.
He keeps his eyes on you for a short moment, before turning back towards t he work table.
âi just donât want you getting uncomfortable, ââ, itâs really not worth the harmâ his voice is laced with care and worry. It warms your heart.
âitâs okay, seriously, iâd come anyway even if it does make me uncomfortableâ placing your hand on his shoulder, âtrust meâ you plead.
He looks at you for a moment, before placing his hand right over yours. âokay, iâll trust youâ you feel it, a familiar warmth youâve longed to experience again.
Youâre starting to see cracks on his hardened shell, that unrecognizable exterior is slowly melting away as you reconnect with him. It lights a fire in you seeing him reveal his true nature again.
Youâre grateful.
Ending the moment, you hear mr wang calling the two of you out of the garage to start the drive. âyou kids ready? letâs get on the road before it gets lateâ
You give eachother a knowing glance before making your way towards the front of his house.
Nicholas opens the backseat door for you, before boarding the truck himself. Heâs on the driverâs seat and his father is sitting beside him.
You sit at an angle that allows you to see nicholasâs face through the rear-view mirror, which may or may not have been intentional.
The ride begins, you see off the main area of town as the road takes you to the outskirts. You can see nicholasâs hands confidently gripped on the steering wheel, an arm slightly slung over the window.
This seasonâs weather is cold, but the sunâs blazing heat balances it out, making the temperature cool and refreshing. Itâs a great day to be out.
Itâll take a few hours to get to the hunting grounds, so youâve made yourself comfortable in the backseat.
Not many words are spoken throughout the drive, maybe one or two small conversations, but thatâs about it. You take note of the frequent wooshing sounds surrounding the truck as it cuts through strong wind currents.
As well as the occasional cold gust coming through the windows that leave your skin riddled in goosebumps. All this accompanied with the faint burnt smell of ash and nicotine seeping into the air as nicholasâs father smokes a cigarette.
Hours slip by, you start to drift off. The last thing you see is nicholasâs eyes through the mirror before you fall asleep.
The next thing you know, a hand is nudging at your shoulder. You lift your head of the car seat. Rubbing your eyes as you look around.
âââ wake up, weâre hereâ nicholas stands right beside you with his hand rested on the truckâs roof, waiting for you to get up. He draws his hand out to help you off the truck. Giving you a look thatâs basically saying wow, she was knocked out. Canât blame him though, you were beyond drowsy from the lack of sleep the night prior.
You finally come out of the truck. Compared to the worn out roads of the town, the ground is uneven, under a blanket of green thicket. Your legs are met with dense foliage with even the slightest movement.
âyou alright?â nicholas asks with his rifle already strapped to his back. âyeah, yeah, just getting used to the terrainâ you answer.
âokay good, just follow me,â he takes a step before looking back, âand stay closeâ he adds. You nod and start walking as all three of you enter the woods.
Walking past tree after tree , nicholas and his father lead you to their usual hunting tower. A structure built on strong wooden pillars to see the forest floor from a higher view.
You climb up the ladder first, followed by nicholas and his father. They set up their gear and seats to wait on oncoming deers. You watch them attentively look out for any buck that may be wandering through what looks like never-ending woods.
As long as youâve known them, youâve only heard about their great tales of successful hunting trips. So finally being able to see it with your own eyes is somewhat of a spectacle to you.
Your eyes linger on nicholasâs stature, in the perfect position to take a shot at any roaming deer.
âthis might take a while, âââ nicholasâs father says with a low voice. And so, you wait. Seconds turn into minutes, and minutes turn into hours. You were starting to lose patience, honestly. But just as you thought that, nicholas whispers.
âi see oneâ his eyes lock onto a large buck, his finger hovers the trigger. You watch him, carefully aiming his rifle to get the shot. Everything goes dead silent.
His eyes narrow, his body tenses, and â pop.
The gun goes off. All you could hear at first were countless flocks of birds fleeing and rustling through trees above you.
Everyone stays quiet, until finally, nicholas confirms the kill. He breathes out. âi got itâ his body straightens up from his earlier position.
âthat looks like a big one too! letâs go check it outâ nicholasâs father rushes down towards the corpse faster than any of you.
He seems overly pumped for game that wasnât even his. Canât say the same for nicholas though. Youâre not sure what emotion heâs feeling at the moment, but it definitely isnât a good one.
Instead of looking proud, he looks as if a burden was just lifted off of his shoulders, almost as if⊠relieved.
He faces you with lidded eyes. âcome on, letâs get downâ he reaches out his hand again, helping you down.
You walk over dead leaves and fallen branches. Just under a hundred yards away from the observation post, there the deerâs body laid.
Nicholasâs father was already looking over it when the both of you got there.
âamazing buck, and what a great shot tooâ he grins in delight. You and nicholas just stand behind him. He crouches down and continues inspecting it.
âthanksâ nicholas says with a monotonous tone. His voice tells you that he is troubled, and his eyes tell you that he is anxious. Is he anticipating something?
A sudden groan leaves mr wangâs mouth.
âugh, you know how much of a wuss you used to be? thanks to me youâre actually good at making shots,â he laughs sarcastically, âi canât believe you complain about these trips, i mean look at you now â a true manâ he shouts, trying to prove a point.
Thatâs it. Thatâs what he was afraid of. You donât know if it was nicholasâs tone, or if it was how short-hand his reply was. But something he said was bound to set his father off.
Heâs mentioned this before. A long time ago, by the dock. How the smallest signs of discomfort would trigger an inevitable passive aggresive response.
Now youâre seeing it unfold in real time.
You take a look at nicholas. His hands are already fisted, his jaw noticeably clenched, and his eyes staring daggers right into his father back.
âiâm bringing ââ back first, itâs getting lateâ nicholas announces. His father barely acknowledges him. Nicholas grabs you by the arm and quickly drags you off back to the truck.
Before you could even say anything, heâs already making you sit in the passengerâs seat. He shuts the door before sitting beside you, and starting the engine.
Nicholas sighs. He grips the steering wheel with both hands, and leans his head down towards them. Covering his face.
âiâm sorryâ he says, face still covered. Your hand reaches out to caress his back, but you hesitate â afraid that if you do â he might break.
You gently lay your hand on his back. Being as tender as possible, knowing the last thing he needs right now is a heavy hand.
âyou donât have to be sorry nicho, you did nothing wrongâ you reassure him.
He peeks up at you and lets out a heavy breath. Fixing his posture, he finally starts driving back to town.
This time around, the sun has already started to dawn. Everything left tinted by a vibrant orange glow. Itâs rather fitting with the mood that the wind currents have picked up, somehow even more violent than the ride before.
The air is thick. Itâs impossible to ignore how uncomfortable nicholas looks. Heâs still focused on the road, but you have a feeling heâs reliving his fatherâs words over and over again in his head.
âare you okay?â he looks at you, startled. He was spacing out.
He tightens his grip on the steering wheel before coming loose. âi hate hunting, it makes me feel like iâm still stuck as a child being treated as a tool by my own father,â his voice growing more distraught, âand iâm scared, okay?â he admits, glancing at you for a moment.
âiâm scared that if i let myself be stuck in this cycle, iâll just end up like him â like my dadâ his voice softens in the end.
ânicholas, iâll let you know right now,â his eyes are still fixed on the road, but you know heâs listening, âyou are a kind and strong-willed soul, compassionate about helping others, and the most caring person iâve ever met in my lifeâ you confess.
âi know you wonât ever be your father, because i know you for who you areâ your words come out easily, itâs something youâve been meaning to tell him since the day you met him. You wish you said this a long time ago, but itâs better late than never.
He glances at you, like something clicked in him, then looks back at the road ahead. Heâs thinking.
The town has come into view. Youâre just a turn away from the lake houses. You decide to tell him one last thing.
âand if youâre ever feeling stuck, you could always come to the city with me, nicholasâ you offer. Just as dahlia did for you, you knew that a new start would help him. It would give him the freedom he always wanted.
As he pulls up in front of your house, you could tell that he was actually contemplating. He was still distraught, but giving him hope is the least you could do.
Nicholas stays silent.
âiâll get off now, thanks for the ride nicho, see you tomorrowâ you step off the truck. The strong winds blowing through your hair as you watch him drive off.
You know he has a lot on his mind. The only thing you want him to know is that despite what he thinks, he has you.
Eventually, you end up in your room, lying in bed, thinking. You feel guilty for leaving him, seeing firsthand how you ended up causing the last thing youâd ever want to bring upon nicholas â loneliness.
He was the only person that you could lean on when you were at your lowest, and for many years, you couldnât do the same for him.
It makes you feel horrible. You shouldâve been there for him, but you werenât.
Hours pass. Youâve been glued to your bed the whole time. You finally force your body up when you realize your entire room has gotten dark.
Itâs nearly night.
You heard nicholasâs truck pull over some time ago, so he and his father are probably back from the trip already.
Making your way downstairs, you look around for your mother, who usually is calmly reading by the window. You soon realize that she is probably resting in her room, tired from arranging tomorrowâs funeral.
You breathe out in a soft sigh.
Looking through the window, your gaze finds its way to the lake. It isnât nighttime, but itâs a matter of time. With sunlight faintly lingering, the skies are painted in a grayish and dusky blue, albeit dark.
The hinges squeak when you open the door. You walk out of your childhood home, paying no attention to the ground beneath you â gravelly and coarse. Your steps slow as you near the edge of the dock.
You lower yourself and sit with both legs hanging over the body of water. The scent of soil and fresh water gushes through the air, which to you, is a pleasant greeting from nature.
Itâs peaceful out here, especially at night. Quiet ambience and calming darkness, doesnât overwhelm you the way the city did.
Your eyes stare blankly at the currents below you, softly crashing against the shore.
The view is beautiful, but your mind is far from it. It takes you a minute to register the tear that just ran down your face.
Your regrets come back to haunt you every time life gets too quiet. A revelation youâve recently come to terms with.
You regret taking so long to come back, you regret never making contact with the townspeople â and most of all â you regret hurting nicholas.
It pains you that your mistakes have only dawned you now, when you feel that itâs too late.
Youâre back, but nothing feels right, not since you left town all those years ago. Because maybe, leaving the person that meant the most to you and having to be stuck in a place where your very existence felt unfitting has rewired your brain in a way thatâs left you in disarray.
Coming back to town meant that youâd find that old spark in you again. Except now, even when youâre here, it feels as if nothing has changed, and whatever youâve been trying to leave behind has already grown into you like roots.
Your thoughts are interrupted by a sudden sharp clap. Your eyes shoot up to see a ginormous stormcloud rolling in, like a beast roaming the sky. With every flash of lightning, a deafening crack follows.
It looks similar, like the very storm you saw when you were leaving town all those years ago. That same otherworldly glow youâll never forget.
The sound of dense grasses brushing against each other grows more and more violent. The wind picks up, pushing against any loose fabric on your body.
Then you feel it, a cold tap on your arm, followed by another, and another, until all you can feel are countless droplets on your skin.
You should probably get up and go inside, but something is telling you to just stay put.
So you do.
You sit there, taking it in. Youâre still crying â thing is you can't differentiate the tears on your face with the raindrops pouring down anymore.
It feels freeing, letting your emotions out in a raging storm. Youâd like to think that this is your way of cleansing your past. Obviously reckless, but at least itâs bringing you some semblance of comfort.
You stay there for a while, about who knows how long. A few minutes? Hours? You canât tell.
The elements around you feel almost like an embrace â a cold, wet embrace. It soothes you with how the wind howls and how the rain washes away your tears.
To your surprise, an unfamiliar warmth touches your skin. Your eyes dart to your side, a hand is gripped onto your shoulder.
âwhat the hell are you doing?â nicholas says, shouting through the rain. You tilt your head towards him.
ânicholas?â with it being so late, youâre shocked anyone even thought of stepping outside.
âââ get upâ he pulls you up and drags you back to his house. Both of you are absolutely drenched in rain.
You enter his home. His hands are still holding onto your wrist as he shuts the door.
Nicholas looks at you, before darting to his room and quickly coming back. He comes back with neatly folded clothes in hand.
ânicho, i-â he cuts you off. âlook, i donât know why you were out there to begin with, but you can tell me later, okay?â his voice full of worry.
He holds your wrist softly and leads you to the bathroom. âfor now, i need you to wash up, donât want you getting sickâ he hands you the clothes with a new towel. Hesitantly, you walk towards the bathroom.
You turn your back to look at him, leaving both of you standing at the doorframe, facing each other. âare you sure itâs okay for me to be here? arenât your parents home? i can always just walk back to my place, you knowâ you whisper, not wanting to make much noise.
âââ, trust me, they wonât hear you, besides they wonât mind if you stay over for a night, itâs storming like crazy outsideâ he reassures you.
âfine, if you say soâ you comply in defeat. ânow go take a shower, okay?â he slowly pushes you in and closes the bathroom door with a small smile.
The door shuts in your face. You stand there for a second, clothes in hand, some areas getting wet from soaking the rainwater left on your hands.
Youâre ashamed that nicholas had to see you like that. You didnât expect him to be as worried as he really was.
For him to go out and take care of you like this feels like a flash from the past. Like a moment from your childhood being reimagined into a new one.
He used to help you dry off when you were kids. Both sat next to each other, taking turns with a small electrical fan, letting it turn left and right, just to dry each otherâs hair after a long day at the lake.
Itâs happening again, except this time, with a figurative wall of hidden resentment and apologies built right between you and him. It shouldnât have been like this.
All you want is for those very walls to come crashing down, and reveal a space that allows your hearts to be true to one another once again, without holding back.
You finish showering. Youâre in clothes slightly oversized on your body, nicholasâs clothes. A simple old graphic t-shirt and comfy shorts.
With a towel still wrapped around your shoulders, you walk out of the bathroom. Nicholas is in his room, laying patiently on his bed. The lights are low, so you can barely make out his expression.
He looks and sees you.
âââ, youâre doneâ he sits up as you walk towards him. Heâs closer now, he smells of shampoo and freshly-washed clothing. Probably finished showering not long before you.
âyeah, sorry i took a whileâ you say, rubbing your hair gently with the towel. âno itâs alright, i just finished earlier tooâ he says.
A short silence follows as you stand face to face without a word. You look out the window beside his bed. The rainâs gotten worse.
âcome sit downâ he pats the space beside him. You comply, his side presses against you as the mattress dips down from your weight.
âso⊠why were you in the rain?â he asks.
âi donât know it- it just felt right, i guessâ your voice quieter by the end.
âyou okay?â he asks, looking at you with concern.
âiâm sorryâ you say.
âabout⊠what?â his question drawn out.
âabout everythingâ you look him in the eyes. âiâd be lying if I told you I didn't know why I left without a word back then â cause truthfully, i knewâ your breathing unsteady.
âi knew how much i meant to you, i really did, nicholas â itâs just that, i was so afraid to look you in the eyes and say that i was leaving you behind even though youâd been there for me since foreverâ you admit, head turned down hiding your tears.
Nicholas opens his mouth to speak, but you stop him.
âand donât pretend i didnât hurt you because i know i did, i saw the way you looked at me that day, i knew that lookâ you peer up to nicholas, eyes pleading for honesty.
He looks away and stays silent for a moment. Letting out a deep sigh, before speaking.
âyouâre right, i was hurtâ he confesses. âbut i shouldâve never blamed you,â your eyes meet again, âyou were grieving ââ, it wasnât fair for me to just â resent youâ
âand maybe you shouldâve told me that you were leaving, but i think even then, i shouldâve been the one to understand your situationâ his hand reaches out and lands over yours. âespecially, because i shouldâve known youâ
He speaks to you with a gaze, soft and caring, like a silent confession â not bound by words, but by the glint of light in his eyes and the tenderness in his hands.
âSince the hunting trip too, itâs like iâve been reminded of the person you are â youâre a person who caresâ he says.
âand fuck, ââ, i care about you tooâ his grip tightens around your hand.
Without much hesitation, your free hand cups his face, and you kiss him. Soft, testing the waters at first. He brings his hand onto the back of your neck and presses deeper into your lips, tilting his head.
Nicholas leans back on the headboard. You follow suit, climbing on top of him, mouths still attached. Your hands hook around his neck.
His hands slowly hover down over your waist. âcan i?â he asks, breaking the kiss. âplease just hold me, nicholasâ you plead, before closing the distance again.
His hands finally lay onto your waist, softly caressing your skin as your body eases onto him.
You both end up resting forehead to forehead, breathless. Eyes still closed, just taking each otherâs presence in.
Gradually, you and nicholas lower your bodies onto the mattress. With you laid beside him and your head nuzzled against his chest, his arms around your figure. The blanket pulled over your shoulders, keeping you warm.
ânicholas, iâm glad to have you in my lifeâ you mumble. âme tooâ nicholas replies as your eyes begin to shut.
As youâre sleeping against his body, under his care, you think that maybe you werenât missing belonging. The one thing you were missing was someone who knew the world the way you did.
Tomorrow, youâll wake up in his outfit, and your life will still be the same.
All you know, is that itâll be a lot less lonely with a person who truly understands.
Itâs the funeral day.
You managed to sneak back home before anyone noticed you slept overnight at nicholasâs, thankfully.
Putting on a simple black dress for the occasion, flowers in hand. The ride to the cemetery was swift, and the ceremony ended as fast as it started.
Youâre standing quite far from the gathering, looking over the attendees, still saying their goodbyes.
âheard youâre going back tomorrow?â nicholasâs voice suddenly appears beside you, crossing his arm with yours.
âyeah, donât miss me too muchâ you joke. âiâll tryâ he replies with a soft smile.
âbut actually, i was thinking you could just come with me,â your eyes meet his, â we have room, you knowâ
âas long as your mom wonât be bothered iâm up for itâ he answers.
âof course she wonât, nichoâ you let out a small laugh.
âperfect, canât waitâ nicholas leaves a peck on your head.
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genre: academic rivals to lovers, rich jay au, university au, angst, slow burn
part one word count: 19.6k
warnings: angst, depictions of terminal illness, scenes that occur in hospitals, use of the american (usa) health system (aka receiving medical care is expensive), swearing, slowwwww burn
playlist: this is me trying / cardigan / mirrorball- taylor swift / yellow - coldplay / BIRDS OF A FEATHER - billie eilish / safety net - ariana grande / garden (say it like dat) - sza
note: Well it looks like two part fics are just my thing now so I hope thatâs alright with youuuuu. This one is a rollercoaster of angst but also hopemaxxing and optimismmaxxing and yes, eventually lovemaxxing so I hope you enjoy!! Do note the tags for triggers, but donât let the angst scare you Iâm too much of a baby to write anything with a sad ending. Also, younger uni track star Jungwon is still in the works and in the drafts I just needed a quick change of pace after writing so much for him lately. And finally, FIRST STLLMNSTR JAY FIC!!!! EVERYBODY CHEEREDDDDDD
â.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ëâ.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ëâ.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ë
Park Jongseong is everything you hate. Spoiled, entitled, and the heir to a top conglomerate in the business world youâve been fighting tooth and nail to break into. You canât even begin to count how many sleepless nights, skipped meals, and personal desires youâve sacrificed just for a seat at the table he was born sitting at.
But when a piece of news in your third year of university pulls your world out from under your feet, everything starts to change. Including your feelings towards the one person you thought youâd always loathe.
â.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ëâ.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ëâ.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ë
The back of Park Jongseongâs head is almost as annoying as the rest of him.Â
Haloed in a well-kept array of perfectly styled dark hair, it currently blocks your view of the last slide in todayâs lecture. Eyes tracing the perfectly mussed strands, you canât help but roll your eyes.Â
Itâs an illusion of a carefree nature you know Park Jonseong certainly does not possess. Every strand of hair, down to the very last follicle is exactly where he wants it to be, no matter how hard he tries to pretend like it was nothing but a few strokes of his fingers and the grace of the light afternoon breeze.Â
You scoff. As if that control freak would leave anything up to the whims of nature. Youâve seen his planner, even if only in passing. And by accident, of course.Â
Filled to the brim with reminders and deadlines and memos, all etched in his infuriatingly neat handwriting, you doubt heâs ever left anything up to chance.
Youâd admire the incessant diligence if it came from anyone else. Or at least, youâd respect it. But with Jongseong, or Jay as he insists on being called, you can only resent it.Â
Every minute he dedicates to his own meticulousness is only another hour you have to spend studying. Writing. Editing. Practicing. Perfecting your own work and hoping the final result looks half as effortless as his.Â
Effortless. That word tastes more bitter on your tongue than it has any right to. But itâs hard not to resent someone that was handed everything on a silver platter and loves to dangle it just out of your reach.Â
Park Jongseong. Heâs the only son and surefire heir to the conglomerate his father has been grooming him to run since he could check boxes on a spreadsheet. Part of you wonders if his enrollment in university is just for show. Surely thereâs nothing he could learn from a bachelorâs in business that he didnât learn on his fatherâs lap at the age of ten. That only makes you even angier.Â
Mentally, you begin to sift through the dayâs to-do list.Â
Finish econ homework. Assign roles for your insurance law midterm project. Email your marketing professor for a finalized version of the midterm schedule. Send it to your manager at the cafe so he doesnât schedule any overlapping shifts. Call your mom. Text Sunoo back. Make sure this monthâs stipend didnât get blocked during transfer again. Ask Kaia if she got an update from the landlord about next yearâs rent increase.Â
The longer the list extends, the more the words start to swim in your mind. The sound of your professorâs voice begins to lose its sharpness. It fades to a lulling wave before it disappears entirely, replaced by a sudden ringing in your ears.Â
Your vision starts to swim, too. Blinking, you try to clear the black spots that suddenly halo Jayâs head. Quickly, the effort begins to strain. Screwing your eyes shut, you lower your head, hoping it will ease the sudden nausea beginning to rise from the pit of your stomach.Â
Your skin feels hot. Too hot. Sweat beads at your temple as you fight the urge to be sick.Â
Not on the laptop, you pray. Even through the haze in your mind, youâre well aware of just how many notes and assignments you would lose if your laptop died. Never mind the fact that you wouldnât be able to afford a replacement for at least five months, and even that leaves no room for error in your finances or emergency spending.Â
Palm supporting the weight of your clammy forehead, the ringing in your ears sharpens to something piercing. You can feel your consciousness slipping, thoughts fading as soon as they come.Â
The urge to be sick is still there, but itâs distant now, fading into some corner of your mind that you canât quite access.Â
Iâm not going to puke, you realize. But I am about to pass out.
Forcing breath in through your nose, you feel your heartbeat pounding in your throat. It echoes between your ears as you do your best to hold onto your last threads of coherence.Â
You think you hear your name, maybe, somewhere in the distance. Grinding your teeth, you do your best to focus on it. Reach out like itâs a lifeline pulling you through the waves.Â
You hear it again, louder this time. Youâre closer. The nausea has faded now, more of a mild discomfort than an imminent threat. The vertigo that sent your mind swooping is calming to a gentle rock.Â
Hesitantly, you try opening your eyes, just barely. The bottom of your keyboard looks back at you, blurry through your eyelashes.Â
Again, you hear the sound of your name. Only this time, itâs clear enough to realize that itâs not a figment of your imagination.Â
Too quickly, you lift your head, opening your eyes fully. Doing your best not to wince at the sudden movement, you suppress the sudden chill that traces your spine in a shiver.Â
Sat halfway up the bowl of the lecture hall, you meet your professorâs eyes. Your face, previously clammy, suddenly feels impossibly warm as you realize nearly everyone in the lecture hall has their eyes locked on you too.Â
Their expressions are a mix of concern and confusion. You canât decide which one is worse.Â
Pointedly, you avoid the weight of the stare coming from directly in front of you. The last thing you want to know is how Park Jongseong is looking at you right now. Because he is.Â
You can feel it, the heaviness of his lingering gaze. What expression does he have? Is he confused like the rest of them? Or maybe his eyes are full of nothing but contempt, a sick sense of vindication at your humiliation.Â
You did just barely edge him out of the top score on last weekâs econ quiz, after all. Maybe heâs been praying for a moment like this. Karmic justice for taking what he must be sure is rightfully his.Â
Or, worst of all, his eyes could be shrouded in sympathy. Worry. A reminder that no matter how many sleepless nights you spend studying and extra shifts you pick up just to afford the used versions of the pristine, brand new textbooks he arranges on his bookshelf, you will always be nothing to him.Â
Not a threat, even if your GPA rivals his. Not competition, even though the two of you are always fighting for the last word in class discussions.Â
Youâre just another student. A girl whose place in the lecture hall behind him is funded by scholarships heâs never had to think twice about. A business major who studies the field and knows that ultimately, connections are the only thing that make your name worth anything in this cutthroat industry.Â
It doesnât matter how many networking functions you attend, how many professors you build relationships with, and how much of your own blood, sweat, and tears you pour into this.Â
The blazer you found on clearance with loose threads and a stubborn wrinkle that your old iron can never seem to entirely erase will never turn heads the way his limited edition, perfectly pressed designer brand suits do.Â
The name your parents gave you, will love and consideration and pride, will never hold the same weight, the same value, as Park Jongseong.Â
âIââ you try, but your voice comes out dry, scratched raw. Forcing down a reluctant swallow and hoping your humiliation goes down with it, you try again. âIâm sorry, I didnât hear the question. Could you repeat it?â
Your professor hesitates for a moment, frowning. Eventually, she says, âThatâs alright. Weâre just about out of time actually.âÂ
You glance at the clock. Class isnât scheduled to finish for another eight minutes. And Professor Jung never ends early. Ever.Â
Addressing the entire hall now, she adds, âDonât forget that this semester, weâll be doing an exam and a project for your midterm. Again, my recommendation is that you find someone to partner with for the project. Itâs extensive, and I designed it intending for the work to be split between two people. I wonât stop you if you choose to work alone, but the deadline will come sooner than you think. Finalize your plans and topic now, and send me an email or come see me at office hours if you have any questions. Iâll see you all next time.âÂ
With her reminders, students begin to shift, gathering their things as a few glance around in disbelief at the early dismissal. Thankfully, the gesture has eased most of the attention off of you.Â
But before you can slide your laptop into your bag, her voice cuts through the hall once again. âAnd, ____?â Startled by the sound of your name, you look up to find her eyes already on you. Her expression is unreadable. âStay after class for just a minute.â
Shit.    Â
Nodding, you bend to grab your bag. As soon as you stand from your chair, you feel it again. That same pair of eyes.Â
This time, he catches you off guard. You donât have enough of a warning to avoid the gaze you suddenly meet.Â
Over his shoulder, Jay isnât looking at you with disgust or contempt or even vindication. Heâs just⊠looking. The same way youâve seen him fine comb a spreadsheet or double check a report when the numbers donât quite add up.Â
Like heâs searching for something. Trying to figure something out.Â
Your eyes widen slightly before you turn your head, breaking eye contact.Â
When Park Jongseong looks at you, the only thing you want to see is the mild annoyance he has whenever you beat him to a correct answer. The strained frustration whenever you edge him out of setting the exam curve.Â
Not his scrutiny, his searching assessment like youâre someone worth a second glance. No matter how much you resent him for largely treating you like a pesky fly, itâs what youâve come to recognize as the status quo. Itâs comfortable. Safe.Â
Him giving you any sort of actual attention is very much not.Â
Pulling your bag over your shoulder with a bit more force than necessary, youâre pleasantly surprised to find your legs quite stable beneath you, even if that shaky, jello-like feeling lingers slightly.Â
Approaching Professor Jungâs podium with trepidation, you do your best not to fidget. She busies herself shutting down the projector and gathering her notes as the rest of the students file out of the hall. Â
After a handful of moments, she closes her laptop and looks up at you. Her eyes shift over your shoulder, somewhere near the door.Â
âIs there something you need, Jay?â she asks.Â
Immediately, a surge of unease pulls at your stomach. The last thing you need is for him to bear witness to this conversation.Â
âIâŠâ you hear behind you, hesitant in a way he almost never is. âNo, Iâm sorry. Iâll ask you next time, Professor.â
You watch as she nods towards him. âYou can always send an email, too, if itâs urgent.â
âRight.â His voice is smooth. Sliding around your shoulders and settling in the air. âThank you, Professor.â
She nods again, a final dismissal. âTake care, Jay.â
You canât bring yourself to look. Instead, you wait for the soft thud of the door closing behind him.Â
Your professor waits, too. She parts her lips to speak, but the words are spilling from you before she can.Â
âIâm so sorry, Professor,â you plead. Participation isnât weighted particularly heavily, according to the syllabus she handed out at the beginning of the semester, but you need all the points you can get. âI promise it wonât happen again. And I really was paying attention, I just had this weird headache all of a sudden, andââ
âWoah,â she reaches out a hand. âSlow down.â Confusion creases her brow at your reaction. âI didnât ask you to stay to chastise you.â
âOh,â you breathe. Relief is short lived as confusion begins to take its place. âIâm sorry, Iââ
âDonât apologize.â She shakes her head. âIâm sorry that I gave that impression.â She sighs. Silence stretches for a moment before she continues, âLook, ___, youâre one of my top performing students. Maybe the top performing student.â
For a second, you almost wish Jay had stuck around, just to hear that.Â
âIâm not concerned about your academic abilities or your focus in class,â she continues. âI am, however, starting to become a bit concerned about you.âÂ
âMe?â you echo.Â
Nearly halfway through the semester, Professor Jung has solidified herself as one of your favorites. Sheâs in her mid-forties, demanding but receptive, and an absolute genius in the accounting world.Â
Sheâs pushed you to see numbers, data, in a new way. To stop looking at them as some cold, detached thing and start looking for the implications. To consider how salaries and bonuses and business expenses affect not only a companyâs bottom line, but also the employees that make it possible.Â
Numbers, she always says, are a reflection. They tell you about customer satisfaction, employee well-being. Factors that matter if you care about longevity. Continued success. Ethics and morality. Conversations that are all too often missing or pushed to the side in this industry.Â
Youâve been hoping that come finals, sheâll be willing to write you a recommendation letter. Maybe even ask you to TA for one of her lower level classes if your schedule allows.Â
In short, you value her opinion. Not just as someone with significant authority over your GPA, but as someone with experience who seems to share your values. In the business world, itâs as rare as striking gold.Â
Now, she stands across from you with concern etched across her features. âYouâve been quieter in class,â she says. âAnd today isnât the first time Iâve seen you like that.â She nods towards your earlier seat. âHand on your head like youâre in pain.â
âOh,â you exhale, not sure what to do with her worry. You never imagined she, or anyone for that matter, would notice. You shake your head, prepared to brush her off, âIâm fineââ
She wonât let it go so easily. âAre you sleeping?â
âWhat?â you flounder for a moment. âI mean, itâs almost midterms, so Iâve been doing some extra studying, butââ
âSo you havenât,â she concludes, disapproval in her eyes.Â
âI have,â you insist. âJust less.â The concern in her gaze doesnât ease. âA little less,â you amend.Â
âAre you eating?â
âYes,â you nod. Extra hours in the library and the pressure of a potential rent increase might mean your meals are a bit less regular these days, but she doesnât need to know that. âI even get free things from the case at the cafe during shifts, soââ
âYouâre working?â Another flicker of concern crosses her face.Â
Shit.Â
âOh, IâŠâ you trail off, unsure what to do with the sudden interrogation. âI mean, yeah. But only part time.â
âYouâre taking nearly double the recommended course load and youâre working. No wonder youâre nearly fainting in the lecture hall.â
Swallowing your pride, you admit, âIâm trying to graduate early. My scholarship depends on my class rank, and Iââ you bite at the inside of your bottom lip. Your throat suddenly feels full, words getting stuck on the way out. âI canâtââ
âI know what itâs like,â she says, voice gentle. âBelieve me, I do.â She pauses for a moment, weighing her words. âYouâre brilliant, truly. One of the most impressive students Iâve had in my classroom in a long time. And you have grit, talent, perseverance. A commendable work ethic. You have what it takes to make it in this industry. But you need to take care of yourself, too.â
Itâs humiliating, the way a tear catches in the corner of your eye. It spills, despite your stubbornness. You feel small, helpless as it tracks a hot, wet streak down the curve of your cheek.Â
Professor Jungâs voice softens even further. âIs there someone nearby that can help? A family member? A friend?â
Youâre biting the inside of your lip so hard youâre worried you might draw blood. Another tear escapes as you shake your head in a miniscule movement.Â
Friends have long since fallen off your list of priorities. The few relationships you formed during freshman year have long since fizzled after you left one too many texts without a response and canceled on one too many plans. Kaia is the closest thing you have now, but your schedules are nearly opposite each other and as a nursing student, sheâs nearly as busy as you. Even after two years of living together, you still call her your roommate. Not your friend.Â
Your family is far away. Back in your hometown, the distance between them and the city your university campus sits on feels like an uncrossable ravine. Besides, they have their own worries to take care of. Namely, the restaurant thatâs been in your family for generations. An enterprise that has cost your family more than itâs earned them for the last decade.Â
Your father, mother, and younger brother all work multiple jobs to make ends meet. It would be nothing short of selfish to ask them for help now.Â
âOkay,â your professor nods. The sympathy in her eyes is almost unbearable. âThen Iâm going to request that you go visit the university clinic. Iâll call now and make you an appointment for this afternoon.â
âNo,â you shake your head. âI mean, really, Iâm fineââ
Professor Jung is firm. âTheir services are free for students. Itâs a university resource. Your tuition funds it.â
âI work this afternoon,â you protest.
âWhat time?â
âThree thirty.â
Sheâs already pulling out her phone. âIâll see whatâs available before then.âÂ
âReally,â you try to stop her, âIâm fine. Iâll eat a good meal tonight and make sure I go to bed earlyââ
âFrequent headaches and dizziness can be a cause for concern.â
âIâm sure if I just rest, thenââ
âBut you wonât rest.â Her gaze is heavy, something almost protective in it. âI know how it is. You tell yourself you just need to push through until midterms. But then there are events and presentations and research conferences. And then there are finals and youâre doing the same thing over again. It doesnât end with graduation. This line of work rewards people who never sleep, who never rest, who never take a breath. Your competition is always trying to get one step ahead of you, to edge you out. You wear yourself to the bone until you make enough money to pay someone else to do it for you.â
Your breath catches in your throat. You feel that familiar sting at the edge of your eyes again. The urge to cry, but this time for an entirely different reason.Â
âI believe in you,â she says. âI know you have big dreams, and I believe in those, too. So take an hour out of your afternoon and go visit the university clinic. Do it once and the next time youâre feeling unwell, it will be a little easier. Find ways to take care of you, too.â
The hesitation must still be apparent on your face, because she adds, âIâm more than happy to resort to threats if I must. Iâll make the midterm project a mandatory partner assignment.â
Your gaze wavers. âYou wouldnât.â
She just nods. âAnd Iâll assign partners. Why not pair up the two best students in class? Iâm sure if the two of you put your heads together, you could come up with something truly commendable.â
The two top students. That would mean you andâÂ
No.Â
âThis doesnât feel aligned to the Business School code of ethics,â you point out.
âThen go to the clinic,â she instructs, a note of finality in her voice. âAnd youâll never have to find out just how terribly malleable that handbook is.â
You clench your jaw for a moment, looking for a loophole, a way out. And then, finallyâ
âFine,â you acquiesce.Â
âGood,â she nods. âI know the director at the university health center. I messaged him before the end of class. Go now. Theyâre waiting for you. Theyâll see you right when you arrive.â
âYou alreadyâŠâ your jaw drops slightly. âBut what if Iââ
âJust go,â she urges, nodding towards the door. âThe sooner you go, the sooner you can get back to running yourself into the ground studying.â
Thereâs more you want to say, to argue, but sheâs right. The quicker they diagnose you with stress induced headaches and fatigue and recommend resting more, the sooner you can get back to doing the opposite.Â
Nodding, you make your way towards the door. Fingers around the handle, her earlier words echo through your mind.Â
I believe in you. Itâs been a long time since anyone told you that.
Turning back, you meet her gaze one more time, trying to swallow the emotions that threaten to rise. âThank you.â
Professor Jung nods once, an expression you canât quite read in her eyes. âIâll see you next week, ___.â Â
Halfway between the lecture hall and the health center, your phone dings with an incoming notification.  Â
You smile as the image spreads across your screen. Sunoo poses next to one of the cutest dogs youâve ever seen, both of them tilting their heads at the exact same angle.Â
A surge of fondness is quickly followed by a pang of loneliness. Youâd give anything to see your little brother in person right now. To see that smile in person and wrap him in the biggest hug as he laughs in your ear.Â
Looking at the picture a moment longer, you send a quick response before tucking your phone back into your pocket.Â
Sunoo. Your brother is only one year your junior, but the protectiveness you feel towards him makes the gap feel bigger.Â
He hates it, the way you coddle him. But after a life-threatening tumor nearly took his life when the two of you were in elementary school, youâve felt more like a guardian than an older sister.Â
Itâs hard to remember how things were when you were just a kid. Your memories are hazy around the edges, and the passage of time has only dulled them further.Â
There was never a time when your family was wealthy, but things were different back then. Your mother smiled more. Her back didnât ache yet. She came home from long days of taking telephone orders and covering waitress shifts at your familyâs restaurant with a smile on her face and enough energy to chase you and Sunoo around the neighborhood playground for hours.Â
Your father came home later, usually. After all the cleaning was done and the restaurant was prepped for the next day. After the books were balanced and the cash register was double checked. But he laughed when he saw the two of you. Entertained your requests for endless rounds of hide-and-seek no matter how exhausted he was.Â
Sunoo was always a sweet kid. The kind of shy that people gravitated towards. He was gentle, thoughtful, good. His teachers sang his praises and his friendsâ parents were always happy to have him over.Â
You were a bit rougher around the edges. Not mean or misbehaved, but something in you was always trying to run, to take, to push, even when everyone around you was resting. You had a fierce competitive streak and a hard time losing at anything, especially at school.Â
You wanted to be the best at math, at science, at language arts. You wanted to run faster than all of the boys who treated the playground like their domain and draw better than all of the girls who spent every second of free time at the arts and crafts table.Â
You wanted to do everything. Be everything. An astronaut. A scientist. A famous singer. A doctor. A lawyer. The president. Your dreams, your hopes, your goals for the future were always shifting, never standing still.Â
And then, on a rather ordinary Thursday afternoon when you were in the fifth grade, your world fell apart.Â
You rode the bus home alone that day. Sunoo hadnât gone to school. Complaining of a stomachache and his head hurting in the morning, your mother took a day away from the restaurant to stay home with him.Â
When you finally arrived at your stop, the elderly woman who lived next door was waiting for you there. You still remember it now, the awful, aching look of sympathy in her eyes as she greeted you. Called you sweetheart and told you that your family wasnât home right now. That they had asked her to bring you to them.Â
You remember the confusion, the anxiety as she pulled her small car into the hospital parking lot. The terrible ache in your heart, the panic in your chest as you met the tearful, desperate gazes of your parents. The crushing weight of their arms around you as they pulled you into a crushing embrace.Â
The utter agony of looking at your baby brother unconscious on a hospital bed, skin pale. So pale. Too pale.Â
A tumor, the doctor called it. You were too young to know what he meant, but you understood the weight of it. The implications. The sickening feeling in your gut as you heard him tell your parents to prepare for the worst. That he likely had no more than three months left to live.Â
The clang of your motherâs knees hitting the hospital floor still rings in your ears sometimes. The desperate, hushed tones of your fatherâs whispers as he pleaded with the doctor, begging him to save his sonâs life.Â
The next year was the worst of your life.Â
Week after week, treatment after treatment, doctor after doctor, and your brother only got worse. Sicker, paler, weaker.Â
It was a rare gene mutation that caused the tumor, the doctor explained to your family one afternoon. His voice was strange as he tried to juggle the appropriate amounts of professional detachment and sympathy all at once. And it was likely the same mutation making it so resistant to treatment.
The hospital was doing everything in their power, but they thought his chances might be better if he went to a larger hospital, one with more resources, with dedicated departments and doctors who specialized in this kind of treatment.Â
Sunoo was moved to a different hospital less than a week later. Your parents took turns staying with him while the other kept the restaurant running. It killed them not to be at his side, you know, but the longer treatment took, the more bills began to stack up.Â
There was a silver lining within it all, though. The three month estimate that the doctors gave came and went. And still, Sunoo was alive. Even if only barely.
Your community was supportive beyond words. Donation drives were set up, meal trains funded by strangers youâd never seen before. Your family's restaurant had more visitors than it had seen in decades. But even with their generosity, it wasnât enough.Â
When the revenue ran dry, keeping Sunoo alive was funded by your parentâs meager savings. And when that evaporated, they turned to loans.Â
You watched as they worked themselves to the bone. Trying to keep their sick son alive and their only source of income afloat.Â
Your parents wanted your life to remain as normal as possible. You still went to school, still lived at home, still rode the same bus.Â
The same elderly woman who brought you to the hospital that day was the one who made your meals most nights. Who made sure you were taken care of and got to bed at a reasonable time. She even came to your parent-teacher conference. Knitted you a new sweater and a pair of mittens when autumn turned to winter.Â
But no matter how much normalcy they wished for, your life was a shadow of its former self. School was different. Teachers treated you like broken glass. The high expectations they once had were whittled away into nothing in the name of sympathy.Â
The friends in your class did their best to be kind, and the easygoing friendships youâd built before were lost somewhere in the rubble of their pity.
You had never felt more alone in your life.Â
You only got to visit your brother on the weekends. You remember the way you would sit at his bedside for hours, telling him stories, tidbits from school, random thoughts no one else had the time or ability to listen to. He was unconscious for most of it, but you told him everything anyway.Â
And when the weight of your grief was too heavy, when your throat was aching and sore from all the talking, youâd fall asleep like that, curled awkwardly over the edge of the hospital bed, his limp hand gripped tight between your fingers.
In the midst of it all, somewhere in the tangle of agony and grief and loneliness, you lost your dreams.Â
You didnât care about being the fastest runner on the playground anymore. You spent most recesses in the school counselorâs office now, anyway. Whenever you tried to draw, your hands werenât sure what to do. It was as if theyâd lost their spark, their creativity.Â
It didnât matter if someone else was better than you at times tables or if another classmateâs essay won first place.
You didnât want to be an astronaut anymore. Space suddenly felt so far away and so terribly cold. You didnât want to be a singer or a lawyer or a scientist, and youâd had enough of doctors to last a lifetime.Â
The only thing you wanted was for your brother to get better. For him to come home so the two of you could ride the bus together again. For your mom to smile like she used to. For your dad to take the two of you berry picking on a sunny day again.
When spring finally bloomed, so did the first glimmers of hope. Sunoo was responding to his latest treatment. Much better and quicker than before.Â
He was actually awake now when you would visit him. He laughed at your stories, even if it did usually end in a coughing fit that made your mother sick with worry. He would respond to you, ask you to tell him more.Â
One weekend, just as the daffodils around your school began to grow, he was even sitting upright when you walked into his hospital room. The next time, you brought him one, and he smiled when the nurse helped find a vase to keep it in the windowsill.Â
Slowly but surely, color started to return to his cheeks. Life started to take root in his body again.Â
The day after you finished the fifth grade, he stood up from his hospital bed, with his hand on the table for support. You hugged him so tight that your parents nearly had to pry you off of him when his heart monitor started to jump.
At the agonizing pace of a snail, things got better. Day by day, he got stronger. Healthier. Until eventually, finally, he was given a clean bill of health.Â
It wasnât the same as before. A year in the hospital had taken its toll. Your brother was still fragile, still needed the extra support that everyone around him was more than ready to bend over backwards to give. Â
By the time summer came, Sunoo was back home. His weekly hospital visits became monthly, then quarterly, and eventually biannual. When autumn arrived, he was back in school.Â
Even after a year in hell, life started to become normal again. But some things had changed fundamentally.Â
Your family, once financially sound, had begun to struggle immensely with money. Irregular operations at the restaurant made profits plummet to nearly irreparable levels. Beyond that, every penny your parents had saved was gone.Â
The hospital bills had submerged them in immense debt. Put simply, your family had no money anymore and nothing but a now failing restaurant to try and dig yourselves out of a hole that felt more like an abyss.Â
And you, once fueled by visions of grandeur, dreams that stretched beyond your wildest imagination, lost every desire to become something amazing. It just simply didnât matter to you anymore. The only thing you wanted to be was Sunooâs older sister. Someone that could help him and take care of him and stay by his side no matter what.Â
You still had drive, still had this fire deep that burned deep within you, but now it was fueled by something else.Â
At eleven, it meant helping Sunoo with homework and threatening the boys that teased him on the playground until they cried.Â
At sixteen, it meant canceling last minute on your date to the junior prom to take Sunoo to the movie heâd been wanting to see in theaters.Â
And when Sunoo, much to your parentâs dismay, decided that he wanted to take over the family business and inherit the restaurant they had never quite managed to make profitable again, you decided to shoulder that burden, too.   Â
Your brother loved to cook, loved to use food as a means of connecting with other people. He treated food like a remedy, like a gift. He used a warm meal to comfort people in despair and baked cookies whenever he wanted to show his appreciation. For him, he could think of no better way to spend his days than making, preparing, and serving food to all kinds of people.Â
You had no talent in the kitchen, but it didnât matter. Sunoo was the chef, not you. In your senior year of high school, you realized that what your familyâs restaurant, what Sunoo, needed was someone who could handle the business side of things. Someone who could look at impossible numbers and make them work in their favor. Someone who could breathe life into a failing business and turn it into the bustling diner of your brotherâs dreams.Â
You needed a business degree. And not just a degree, but an education. One from a top university where your professors could give you the tools you needed to make Sunooâs dreams a reality. Of course, that was never going to come without a hefty price tag.Â
So you made a plan. You were smart. Academically gifted. You already had impressive college entrance exam scores on your side, but you needed more. While your classmates enjoyed their last months of time together, you worked. Day in, day out applying for scholarships, internships, fellowships. Writing essays, email professors, scouring the internet for every bit of information you could find on business schools.Â
You could count on one hand the average number of hours you slept each night senior year. But in the end, it was worth it. You graduated high school with an offer into the most prestigious business school on this side of the country and the scholarship to fully fund it as long as you maintained a high enough GPA and class ranking.Â
On top of that, you were even granted a modest living stipend. One to help cover the rent, textbooks, and grocery expenses you could never bring yourself to ask your parents to help cover.Â
It wasnât much, but it was enough. It was enough.Â
It didnât matter that your dreams fell by the wayside all those years ago. It didnât matter that before all of this, you had no interest in business.Â
Your brother, your miracle of a brother, had been given a second chance at life. And now, you had the opportunity to help him achieve his only dream.Â
Walking across your university campus now, you almost decide to just ditch the health center. You have work to do. You donât have time to waste sitting in a doctorâs office.
Besides, the selfie Sunoo sent with the dog, no matter how adorable, is only a reminder of what you set out to do. The longer you take to graduate, the longer Sunoo has to keep the restaurant afloat through a combination of long hours at odd part-time jobs.Â
Right now, his current gig is as an assistant at the local veterinarianâs office. Your brother loves animals, but it kills you knowing how much heâd rather spend that time cooking. Restoring your familyâs restaurant to its former glory. Surpassing it.Â
It would be such a relief to tell him he doesnât have to pick up extra shifts anymore, to tell your mom that she doesnât need to keep the job she hates at the grocery store anymore. To tell your dad he doesnât need to keep taking all of the contract construction work that takes such a hard toll on his body.Â
Your family, all three of them, have been through so much. Itâs the least you can do to ease some of their strain. To lessen some of their burden.Â
But then you hear Professor Jungâs words again.Â
Find ways to take care of you, too.
Should you? Part of you is still resistant. But regardless, you realize, youâre no use to your brotherâs dream if you run yourself entirely into the ground.Â
Besides, maybe the clinic will give you something a bit more effective than Tylenol for your headaches and you can actually get a bit more studying done before your vision starts to swim.Â
So, even with feet that want to drag, you force yourself all the way to the university health center.Â
You donât make a habit of spending time in hospitals, but much to your relief, this is one of the more pleasant waiting areas youâve been in. The ceilings are high, and the windows are large. Afternoon sunlight warms the space where a dozen odd people wait for their names to be called.Â
It has a relaxed feel to it. There are patterns on the chair cushions. Conversations in the corner. It doesnât have that awful, lifeless, sterile feel youâve been trying to avoid since you were ten.Â
When you give your name to the receptionist, she immediately ushers you towards the small hallway of exam rooms. Glancing towards the half full waiting area, a flicker of surprise crosses your features. Professor Jung must have really pulled some strings for you.Â
You follow her to room number six, offering a tight smile when she says the nurse will be with you shortly.Â
Glancing around the small examination room, it looks how youâd expect. Thereâs a layer of paper beneath the table you sit on, and it crinkles loudly every time you shift your weight. Thereâs a computer in the corner, two low stools, and a handful of medical tools whose name you know about half of.Â
A handful of posters cover the walls. Reminders about good handwashing hygiene, dates for the latest flu shot, a list of symptoms for upper respiratory infections. Thereâs nothing unusual, but you canât quite get your body to relax fully.Â
Before long, you hear a quiet knock on the other side of the door. The nurse that enters introduces herself before settling onto one of the stools in front of you.Â
Glancing down at her clipboard briefly, she looks up to you with a perfunctory kindness in her eyes. âWhat brings you in today?â she asks.Â
âMy professor suggested I come, actually.â
âMm,â she hums. âAnything in particular bothering you?â
You take a deep breath in. Part of you is still itching to just brush her off, but you came all the way here. Might as well be honest.Â
âIâve been having headaches,â you admit. âThey donât usually last long, but theyâre⊠intense. Sometimes they make me dizzy, too. Or nauseous. I havenât vomited or passed out, but Iâve come close a couple of times.â
The nurse nods, reaching for the stethoscope. âHow frequent are these headaches?â
âIt depends,â you nod. âUsually no more than once every couple of days, but itâs been happening more often for the past few weeks.â
Pressing the stethoscope against your sternum, she instructs you to take a deep breath in. Exhale.Â
She jots something down on her clipboard. âWhen you have these headaches, what do you usually do to treat them?â
âTake a Tylenol,â you explain. âMaybe lay down for a while if itâs really bad.â Most of the time, you just grit your teeth through it, but that doesnât seem like the right answer. Â
âWould you describe the pain as manageable?â she asks, picking up another tool. This one, she presses gently into your ear.Â
âUsually, yeah.â You think back to your lecture today, the spinning in your head. âSometimes itâs really intense, but it passes pretty quickly.â
She takes a step back from you, recording another note on her clipboard. âDo you have any other symptoms, anything strange that youâve noticed since the headaches started?â
âNot really,â you shake your head.Â
âAre you sure?â she presses. âNo night sweats? Fever chills? A clammy forehead?â
âIâm sorry,â you interrupt, shaking your head. âItâs really just the headaches that are bothering me. I actually have to get to work soon. Is there anyââ
âI donât think thatâs a good idea,â the nurse frowns. âYouâre running a bit of a fever, and your heartbeat is slightly irregular. Iâd like to check a few more things. Draw some blood and do a chest x-ray, at least.âÂ
âIs that really necessary?â You donât mean to be so curt, but the sudden shift in tone has panic starting to claw at your throat. âMidterms are soon, so Iâve been a bit more stressed than usual. Iâm sure itâs just thatââ
âRegardless,â she interrupts, not unkindly, âitâs best to be sure.â
So you acquiesce. Push up your sleeve with no resistance so she can draw a vial of blood. Donât mention your upcoming shift as she guides you to the x-ray imaging room.Â
The more rooms she leads you to, the more tests they run, the more a sense of unease begins to build in your stomach.Â
Not because youâre worried youâll be late for work. Not because youâre thinking of your to-do list or an upcoming midterm.Â
Because for the first time, youâre beginning to wonder if your headaches arenât quite as benign as youâve dismissed them to be. Thatâs the thing about spending so much time focused on everyone but yourself. You never stop to consider that something could actually be happening to you.Â
Youâre sure itâs just paranoia. Lingering trauma from all your previous time spent in hospital rooms at your brotherâs bedside, but whatever it is, you canât seem to shake it.Â
After another handful of minutes, she gives you the final update. There were no abnormalities detected in any of the x-rays. The blood tests will take a bit longer to process, but theyâll call you within three days.Â
Until then, youâre to take it easy and come back immediately if you notice worsening headaches or any other symptoms.Â
With a nod, you gather your bag again. Walking past the receptionist, you offer her a tight smile. Glancing at your phone, you check the time. You still have a little over an hour before your shift.Â
You should probably eat something, take a quick break before youâre on your feet for the rest of the afternoon, but that lingering feeling of dread in your gut makes both options seem unfavorable.Â
Instead, you force your feet to come to a standstill. Not caring that youâre still in the middle of campus, surrounded by other students passing you by, you screw your eyes shut.Â
You take a deep inhale. Hold it. Count to five. Exhale.Â
Youâre fine. Youâre just fine. You have to be.Â
If you play your cards right, youâll graduate in two semesters. Sunoo will finally have the restaurant of his dreams. Your parents can enjoy a true retirement.Â
Youâre better than this. Stronger than this. A couple of fucking headaches are not going to ruin everything youâve worked for.
Youâve survived worse, and youâll survive this too. No matter how many sleepless nights and skipped meals and bottles of Tylenol it takes. Youâve worked too hard to watch it all go down the drain now.Â
Again, you tell yourself, youâre fine.Â
Even in the privacy of your own mind, you canât quite tell if itâs a lie or not. But at the end of the day, you suppose it doesnât really matter.Â
Youâre so close. Fine or not, you know what you need to do. Â
âŠ..
Three days later, youâre pouring over your insurance law notes in a library study room when the vibration of your ringtone breaks the silence.Â
Checking the caller ID, you hesitate for only a moment before answering.Â
Inconclusive, the nurse from the university health center tells you, and you hate that answer more than you expect to. Youâve spent the last three days more anxious than you care to admit, and this only adds fuel to the fire.Â
According to the nurse, there are some abnormalities in your blood test. Namely in your blood count. Proper diagnosis is outside the scope of the university health center, but theyâve written you a referral to the nearest hospital proper for further testing.Â
Itâs called Saint Maryâs. Itâs pretty close. Should only take you about thirty minutes on the bus.
Mentally, you scramble. Youâre not sure what tests theyâll need to run or how much theyâll cost, but youâre sure the answer isnât free. Your finances are already tight, and part of you wants to just ignore the nurseâs advice and hope that whateverâs causing irregular numbers will resolve itself.Â
But the sheer anxiety of it all is killing you. Maybe the hospital can get you set up with some sort of payment plan. If your rent increase isnât too high, then you can mitigate this with some extra shifts at the cafe.Â
Itâll be fine. Your headaches havenât been nearly as debilitating for the last three days. Visiting the hospital will give you the peace of mind you need to push through these last few semesters.Â
So you make time in your schedule the next day. Erase a study session from your planner and replace it with the hospitalâs name.Â
Pull out the exact change for the bus fare and sink down into a window seat, pulling your headphones over your ears as you watch the city begin to pass you by.Â
It strikes you then, just how little of your surroundings youâve explored these past two years youâve been in university. You can hardly remember the last time you stepped foot off campus for something other than a visit back home.Â
It feels strange, seeing so many buildings and parks and places so close to you and realizing just how unfamiliar they all are.Â
The hospital is only a handful of stops away. You exit the bus just as quickly as you got on, and then you take a deep, steadying breath.Â
The process is nearly identical to your university health center. They ask for your name and identification, but this time, they direct you back to the waiting room. Itâs the bad kind, this time. The type of sterile, lifeless room that makes you want to run back out the front door the way you came.Â
Thankfully, youâre not left to wait long.Â
This nurse is kind, too. She asks for your name and gives you hers. The testing they conduct is more extensive now. Youâre shuffled from one machine to another, listening as they explain the purpose for each one without really processing anything they tell you.Â
And then, when itâs done, they send you to a private room. Inform you with a tight smile that the doctor will be with you shortly.Â
You sit alone for long minutes, waiting. You tap your fingers against the top of your thigh, a steady rhythm that grounds you to reality and allows you to escape it in short bursts.Â
The doctor enters quietly, introduces himself. You donât remember his name. You hardly remember yours.Â
Itâs difficult to focus on anything he says. The ringing in your ears is back, now. Even stronger than before.Â
You only gather bits and pieces of what he tells you. But itâs enough.Â
Three months. The universe must have a strange, sick sense of humor. Must love the vertigo induced by the worst sort of deja vu. Must revel in the irony of doling out death sentences.Â
Three months.Â
Sat in an uncomfortable chair in the dead center of a sterile, lifeless office, the doctor pushes his glasses a little further up his nose. Then, he repeats himself with just as little fanfare.Â
You have three months to live.Â
Itâs only an estimate of course, but heâs seen this kind of tumor before. A rare genetic mutation.
Genetic. Of course.
You should have been tested, ten years ago. But money was so tight, and everyoneâs attention was on Sunoo, and it just never happened. You slipped through the cracks, along with the identical malignant gene mutation you share with your younger brother.
Yours is small still, just behind your heart. Thatâs why the x-ray didnât pick it up. But the MRI today did. Itâs why your blood count is all over the place, why your heartbeat is arrhythmic.
Itâs why youâve been having headaches, why youâve come dangerously close to fainting multiple times in the past few weeks.Â
Three months. It may just be an estimate, but no matter how you look at it, itâs not a lot of time. Itâs no time at all.Â
Grief, pure, raw, aching, hits you with the force of a tsunami wave.Â
The realization strikes you, in the middle of the doctorâs office, that you arenât going to do it. Any of it. You arenât going to graduate. You arenât going to see your parents retire. You arenât going to give Sunoo the restaurant of his dreams.Â
No, instead, you are going to die.Â
You can already feel it. Sunoo was the exception to the rule, the anomaly. He may have survived this once, but he was always meant for better things. He had the care he needed, got the treatments that brought him back to life even if they bled your family dry.Â
Your parents, even if they wanted to, couldnât do that again. They barely scraped by the first time. And even if they could, you wouldnât let them. The guilt of it all would be too unbearable. Maybe even a fate worse than this. Your own savings are laughable. Not anywhere near the amount needed for something of this magnitude.Â
When the doctor asks if thereâs anyone he can call for you, you shake your head. You wonât burden your family with this. Not yet. Not for as long as you can. The weight of their worry would only make it worse.Â
He looks at you with pity, then. With sorrow. You hate them both. He writes you a prescription for a pharmacyâs worth of medication, tells you that these will ease the worst of your symptoms but that you shouldnât expect to be fully functional for more than a month or so with medicine alone.Â
He gives you the list of treatment plans and watches as you half heartedly pretend to look them over. The bold faced font seems to mock you. The pictures of smiling families and spring air that youâll likely never see again.
All of the treatments have fancy names, medical terminology you donât understand. Glancing over the list, the only thing you see is dollar signs. Money you donât have.Â
When you ask for time before making a decision, the doctor advises against it. Reminds you that time is of the essence, that youâre lucky they caught the tumor now before it progressed further.Â
That waiting longer is nothing but a death sentence.Â
You thank him and tell him youâll be in touch shortly. You canât tell if he knows youâre lying through your teeth.Â
The bus ride back to campus passes nearly the same as the journey here did. Again, you sit by the window, pulling your headphones over your ears. The buildings you pass blur into an undistinguishable mix of colors and shapes you realize youâll never get the chance to parse between, to sort through.Â
The ride to the hospital felt like an opportunity, a reminder that there was so much of the world left for you to see. The journey back feels like a prison sentence. The taunting fear that outside the tiny bubble youâve built for yourself, the rest of the world will remain a mystery to you forever.Â
When you reach the stop for your university, you stand, thanking the bus driver as you exit.Â
He looks almost surprised at your gratitude, pleasantly shocked someone remembered him at all.Â
And then you walk, not in the direction of your apartment, but instead towards the cluster of buildings that make up the School of Business. Itâs evening now, and students are far and few between.Â
Thereâs an unseasonal chill to the air, and you pull your jacket a little tighter around your shoulders. You walk until you reach the edge of the campus, the place where a singular, half hidden bench sits just out of view. Sinking down onto it, you let it absorb the weight of your body. Pray that it will hold steady as you unleash the weight of your grief.Â
For a moment, you just sit. Your emotions feel out of reach, untouchable in some part of you thatâs been locked away for too long you canât remember how to get there again.Â
But eventually, you find them. It starts slowly, a detached feeling of loss, of mourning, before the floodgates open. Before long, youâre sobbing. Alone on the bench, tears stream down your face with little restraint as choked sobs catch in your chest, your throat. Youâre nearly screaming at the sky, your entire body shaking with the force of it all.Â
Above it, a question circles your mind.Â
Why?
Why this? Why me? Why now?
You cry for so long you think you must surely be out of tears. There canât be anything left in your body besides this horrible disease, this awful fate your own failing nervous system has sealed in stone.Â
And then your sobs start to change. Until itâs not tears youâre choking on anymore, but laughter. Terrible, gut-wrenching, bone-cracking laughter at the sheer irony of it all.Â
Youâre not sure how long you sit there, caught somewhere in the crossfire of all your mixed emotions. But eventually, your sobs subside entirely.Â
As the night begins to close around you, youâre left with nothing but the weight of reality, the gravity of truth. The disorientation of your world thatâs been flipped on top of its head within the span of hours.Â
Every impossible deadline, every bit of effort youâve put into achieving all of your goals these past few years â it suddenly all feels so fucking useless.Â
Every sacrifice youâve made, every self-serving desire youâve pushed to the side, buried beneath your commitment to your family, they all start to bubble to the surface one by one. Until you're left with something that tastes all too much like regret.Â
Youâve never thought about it twice, your decision to pursue business for your brother. Ever since Sunooâs miraculous recovery, his goals and yours have felt inseparable, like one, united thing.Â
But now, alone on a campus bench with a knife hanging over your head, you think, for the first time in a long time, of that little girl who dreamed of being an astronaut. A singer. A scientist.Â
You wonder what sheâd say to you now. If sheâd admire your determination, your grit. Or if sheâd take one look at your business degree and simply think, how boring.Â
You suppose it doesnât really matter now. Sheâs not here anymore. But you are. Even if only for three more months.Â
You imagine telling her the truth, that shadowy version of you that the past has long since claimed.Â
You part your lips. They feel dry against your breath, dehydrated from your sorrow. âI only have three months to live,â you whisper to the wind.Â
Youâre not sure how sheâll react. Sheâs only ten, after all. Death still feels like some abstract concept, youâre sure, not a finite reality. Time still feels malleable. Birthdays still feel far aways. Nights still feel endless. Dreams still feel worth chasing.Â
Three months? She whispers back to you, tilting her head in thought.Â
You nod.Â
Okay, she whispers again. Then live for three months.Â
Itâs not that easy, you want to explain. I have plans, hopes, goals. Things I still need to finish.Â
But maybe you underestimated her. She had her life taken from her too, after all. Maybe she understands your grief more than anyone else ever could.Â
And no matter what you tell her, her answer remains the same.Â
Live, she insists. For three months.Â
So instead of crying or laughing or cursing the universe any longer, you reach into your bag, fingers closing around the spine of your favorite notebook. Pulling a pen out, you open to the next clean page. And then you start to write.Â
âŠ..
The back of Park Jongseongâs head is even more annoying than usual today. Has his hair always been this shiny? Even the fluorescent lights that wash everything else out only seem to make it richer, more luscious looking.Â
Youâre so wrapped up in debating how much pride you would lose by asking him what shampoo he uses that you almost miss the tail end of his argument.Â
âLaying off unnecessary staff is the only way to remedy the situation,â he states. Plainly, firmly, as if his opinion is law. As if thereâs no room for argument. âOf course the accounting error would have ideally been caught much earlier in the process, but if the company is already in secondary audits, itâs practically a losing battle. Itâs best to just cut the losses and preserve what they can.âÂ
âAn interesting perspective as always, Mr. Park,â Professor Jung nods from her place at the podium. Glancing around the lecture hall she asks, âDid anyone have a different interpretation? An alternative recommendation for how the company should proceed?â
Nearly every pair of eyes in the lecture hall turns to you. Even Professor Jung glances up at your seat, although sheâd never admit if you called her out on it.Â
But your hands remain planted firmly on your lap. Instead, you play dumb. Pretend that itâs strange of them all to assume youâd have something to say. Act as if you havenât spent every single other class this semester countering every single one of his points. Today, you remain silent as you too glance around the hall curiously, as if expecting someone else to counter Jayâs idiotic analysis.Â
Perhaps idiotic is too harsh. A better word might be obvious. Thatâs Jayâs problem, you think. Heâs always had everything he needs. Heâs never had to get creative, to think outside the box. He looks at a poorly balanced accounting book and thinks, âHow would Dad handle this?â instead of âWhat would be the best solution for this unique situation?â
Even Jay himself, who sits nearly directly in front of you, tries to shift in his seat subtly enough to take a glance back at you. You donât think youâre imagining the frown on his face when he finds you sitting silently, a mask of indifference on your face as you pretend to type another row of notes on your laptop.Â
âOkay,â Professor Jung continues from the front after the silence extends a moment longer. âIf no one else has anything to add, then weâll look at our next case.â She changes the slide, showing a new set of sample data from year end accounting books. âBusiness A had a profit margin of roughly 6.2% in the third quarter of the previous fiscal yearâŠâÂ
Her words trail off as you glance down at your nails. Theyâre pink. A pretty shade that you selected with spring flowers in mind, even though itâs just the beginning of fall. Call it nostalgia or stupidity, but spring has always been your favorite season. Youâll take it in any form you can. Besides, the shade is gorgeous against your skin. The tip of your ring finger even has a tiny cherry blossom painted on it.Â
You smile, thinking of the nearly two hours you spent yesterday afternoon at the nail salon getting them done. Youâd never been before, but the process was just as fun as you imagined. The nail artist was sweet, too. She graduated from your university just a few years ago with a history degree. Changed her mind a few months after earning her diploma, and after some time in cosmetology school, here she was. Running her own nail salon.
Changing her mind and seeing where life takes her. Not worrying about wasted time in the pursuit of a happy ending. Itâs not jealousy, exactly, but something unpleasant pulls at your heart when you think about it.  Â
You get why she likes her job so much. You feel pretty, feminine. Love the way it feels when your nails tap against the screen of your phone as you type a message. Or click against your keyboard as you type your class notes.Â
They werenât cheap, though. Despite that, youâd only smiled and nodded when she suggested coming back in three weeks for a fill. Youâd have to scratch out another study session to make time, just like you did for this appointment. Old habits may die hard, but no matter how hard you search, you canât quite seem to find a part of you that cares.Â
Youâve always wanted to get your nails done. Always wanted to be one of those girls that walks around with glowing skin and nice hair and new clothes and pretty nails that you fund with disposable income. It doesnât matter if itâs frivolous or ridiculous or hopelessly girly.
Youâve spent years with jagged cuticles and short, plain, nails because it was practical. Because it saved you money and time and effort that you could spend studying or networking or planning for the future.Â
When you finished at the nail salon, you imagined showing your ten-year-old self how they turned out.Â
Very pretty, your past shadowy self told you, and the smile that spread across her face made it worth it all over again.Â
Even now, Professor Jungâs voice fades to a pleasant blur in the background. Youâre going through the motions more than anything. Pretending to write notes even as you alternate between tabs. One for your lecture and one for flight tickets to the nearest beach town that nearly every student at your university has been to at least once for a drunken spring break vacation.Â
Youâve never dreamed of going, have never even been to the beach, but you think it might be nice. You can already imagine the feeling of sand between your toes. Of warm ocean water lapping against your skin. The sound of waves lulling against the shore.Â
A pleasant seaside breeze rustling through your hair.Â
The sound of Professor Jung wrapping up the lecture for the morning drags you back to reality. Thereâs no sunlight in the lecture hall, and thereâs certainly no sea breeze.
There is, however, a reminder.
âDonât forget about the Goldfellowâs annual charity gala this weekend. As upper division students, youâre all welcome to attend. Itâs an excellent opportunity to network and share space with some of the top executives in our local community. If you do decide to attend, remember that it is a formal event and proper attire is expected.â At that, class is dismissed.
The Goldfellow charity event. Although a better label might be âa gathering of every silver spoon raised twenty-something within a fifty mile radius.â You have serious doubts about how much charity is actually being done.
Then again, perhaps you shouldnât judge. Youâve never attended the event yourself, after all. Usually you would jump at any kind of networking opportunity, but this one is different. Exclusive.Â
The stipulation of proper attire has always made it dangle just outside your reach. Until now, it hasnât bothered you much. Youâre sure that most people are there for the ridiculous venue and open bar. And you use that to convince yourself that no real networking is done.Â
Standing from your seat, you pull your bag over your shoulder. Glancing up, you find that Park Jongseong has yet to leave his seat, too. He is standing, though. And, even more alarming, heâs looking right at you.Â
More specifically, his gaze is fixated directly on your hands, your fresh manicure, as if itâs a puzzle heâs trying to solve.Â
Then, he looks up at you. âYouâre quiet today.â
His tone is infuriatingly neutral. You can't tell if heâs mocking you or deliberately trying to incite your rage, but with Jay, youâve made a habit of assuming the worst.
âPerhaps you should take notes,â you suggest, voice even.
Jay shakes his head. âIf I have something to say, Iâll say it.â
âWell, do you?â you ask. âHave something to say, I mean. Or are you just determined to waste a few more minutes of my time?â
His mouth opens, closes again. This time, his already sharp jawline clenches into something lethal. As if heâs biting back words. Ironic, given what he just said.Â
âI suppose I donât,â he finally tells you.Â
âGreat,â you intone flatly. âWell, then.â And then you're pushing past him, all the way down the stairs to the door of the lecture hall. Youâre not sure if he watches or follows or stays right where he is. You donât look back, not even once.Â
A handful of minutes later, youâre in the library. For nearly the first time since you began your degree program, however, itâs not class notes you pour over. Â
Instead, you pull your notebook out from your bag. Your personal notebook. The same one from that night, alone on the bench, screaming at the stars and asking for advice from hallucinations of your younger self.Â
Its pages are mostly blank. You donât use it for much. Grocery lists, mostly. Occasional reminders that arenât related to school. Over the past two and a half years, youâve only managed to fill about twenty pages.
Turning to the last one, you half expect to not find what youâre looking for. Parts of that day still feel like figments of your imagination.Â
But there it is. Looking back at you in your own neat handwriting.
Bucket List, it reads across the upper margin.Â
You nearly snort. You suppose there was no need to get creative, but you really were putting things in blunt terms.
Kicking the bucket. Youâre not sure where the idiom comes from, but you guess it doesnât really matter. There are other things to focus on now. Namely, the neat, bullet point list beneath it.
Get my nails done professionally, the first line reads. You smile, glancing back down at your hands. With a satisfying stroke of ink, you write a checkmark through the hand drawn box next to it.
Done, you think.
Lip caught between your teeth, you scan over the rest of the list.
Get my hair cut and colored professionally
Buy a really expensive dressÂ
Go on a beach vacation
Ride in a convertibleÂ
Kiss a stranger
And then at the bottom, the item you scratched out almost the second after you wrote it.Â
See the Northern Lights
You remember the documentary you watched in elementary school, how magical the sky looked, all lit up in colors, glowing shades of green and blue. But it just isnât realistic. Auroras havenât been sighted in your city in, well, forever. And itâs not like you have the ability to fly to an Arctic country on a whim.Â
So your list is complete with just six items, one already checked off.Â
Itâs a mismatched list. A short jumble of whatever random desires struck you in the moment. You can already think of things to add, to amend.Â
But part of you hesitates. These were the first things you thought of that night. Your most selfish, vanity driven, purely inconsequential desires that you wanted to do just because.Â
It feels wrong to edit them now. So you donât. Instead, you push your planner to the side, ignoring your perfectly curated study schedule.
It doesnât matter now. It doesnât matter if youâre the top scorer on the midterm or if youâre just painfully average. Youâre not even sure you'll get the chance to take it.Â
So instead, you open your laptop and search for hair salons in the area. You donât filter them with the lowest priced options first. You just look. See which ones have a nice interior and friendly looking stylists.Â
Before you can talk yourself out of it, youâre pressing on the âconfirm bookingâ button, despite the fact that the listed prices are nearly a quarter of your monthly rent.Â
It doesnât matter. Youâve never gotten your hair done. Youâve never even let yourself think about getting your hair done.Â
But alone on the bench with the weight of your imminent mortality heavy on your shoulders, it was one of the things you wanted to try.Â
Like your nails, itâs frivolous. Unnecessary. And thatâs what makes it perfect. Itâs something entirely for you. For no reason other than the fact that you simply want to.Â
Glancing at the next list item, your mind starts to turn. A new hair style and an expensive dress deserve to be seen, after all.Â
The Goldfellow charity gala is hardly your ideal party, but youâre not sure how many formal events youâll be invited to in the next three months. This might be your only chance.Â
Sifting through your emails, you find the invitation Professor Jung forwarded to all her students. And then, before you can overthink it, you RSVP yes.Â
And then you start looking up department stores in your area.
âŠ..
The dress you wear looks just as good when you put it on Saturday night as it did in the fitting room two days ago.Â
It fits you like a glove, flattering your body in a way you didnât even know was possible based on your experience with the clearance rack. And itâs satin. Has a beautiful, subtle shine and glimmers gorgeously under the soft chandelier lights.Â
Walking into the charity gala, the man at the front smiled as he offered to take your coat for you. Didnât look at you with pity or confusion or poorly hidden disgust.Â
He just smiled. Like you belong here.Â
For once, you actually feel like you do. At most networking events, especially the ones hosted by the upper echelon, you feel a bit like a toddler in her motherâs closet. Playing dress up with the big kids in a way thatâs painfully obvious.Â
But not tonight. Tonight, you feel pretty. Worth the second glances people are giving you. You understand it, why people with the resources go through so much trouble. Their attention feels good. You like the way people look at you like they want to know more.Â
Settling further into the tastefully decorated convention room, you can picture it all, a life you could have had if youâd been born with money and ambition for this particular field.Â
Youâd be a charmer, you decide. The kind of girl that needs nothing more than a good dress and thirty seconds to have investors begging at her feet. A true conglomerate sweetheart that understands how the best of deals are made with champagne and well-timed fleeting glances.Â
Kind of like the girl your eyes land on now. On the opposite side of the room, her long, dark hair shines under the low chandelier light. Sheâs gorgeous, and itâs not just because of the deep, red dress that favors her.
Even from a distance, even at a glance, you can tell she comes from money. She carries herself with that kind of grace, that self-assurance that wealthy people always have. Like the room belongs to her.
Whoever sheâs talking to seems to agree. Itâs a man, you can tell. He has his back to you, but you can imagine his expression easily enough. His eagerness. The way he hangs off her every word, hoping sheâll deem him worthy of her time a little longer.Â
You watch for another moment, until he turns. Itâs his side profile you see now, and itâs unmistakable. Jay.Â
Of course. You want to roll your eyes.Â
The two of them are perfect together. A match made in heaven, or maybe a CEOâs board room.Â
Either way, it has you adjusting your dress, a bit uncomfortably. All of a sudden, it starts to feel like an illusion again.
One hair cut, one expensive dress. Youâre still playing dress up. You just did a better job this time. The truth is that you can wear whatever you want. It will never be enough to make you belong here. Not really. Not in the way they do.Â
The next time a waiter passes with a tray of champagne flutes, you donât hesitate to reach out and grab one.Â
Taking a long, slow sip, you allow yourself one final look at Jay. At the girl heâs with. He laughs at something she says, and she puts her hand on his arm.Â
You pretend like there isnât something unpleasant starting to swim in your gut.Â
And then you make yourself busy. It is a networking event, after all.Â
The first person you find is another girl from your class. She hardly recognizes you, and you canât quite decide if you like that or not. The champagne is starting to form a pleasant, light sort of haze in your mind, and you feel like you canât be bothered by anything.Â
You speak for a minute before moving on. Before long, you start to lose track of all your conversation partners. Another boy from your class. A recent graduate. A startup leader whoâs always looking for interns to join his team.
One conversation bleeds into the next, and your glasses of champagne do the same.
The lights start to feel warmer, or maybe that's just the proximity of bodies. Either way, your cheeks are flushed when the waiter passes again.Â
Reaching out, you replace your empty glass with a full one. But you never get the chance to bring it to your lips.Â
A hand suddenly encircles your wrist, plucking the champagne flute from between your fingers.Â
âHeyââ you begin to protest, but a glance upwards stops you dead in your tracks. The hand around your wrist, the champagne thief, is none other than Park Jongseong. Â
Heâs looking at you with something furious in his gaze. âWhat is wrong with you?âÂ
For a moment, youâre too stunned to respond. And thenâ âWhatâs wrong with you?â you return. âI was drinking that.âÂ
You try to reach around him for your stolen champagne, but heâs faster. He steps to the side, effectively blocking your path. You hate to admit it, but he looks good.Â
Of course he does. This is his domain, after all. It comes naturally to him, youâre sure, the styled hair, the spotless suit thatâs been tailored to perfection.Â
Across from you, heâs looking too. You watch as he swallows, throat bobbing with the action.Â
Just like in the lecture hall, his gaze makes you fidget, brings back your previous uncertainty tenfold.Â
Youâre hoping heâll get lost, but Jay does the opposite.
âI donât know what sorrows youâre trying to drown,â he intones flatly, âbut a charity event hardly seems the place to do it, donât you think?â
âIâm not drowning anything,â you argue. Itâs a lie, but he doesnât need to know that. âItâs only my second glass.â Another lie.Â
His lips pull into a thin line. âItâs at least your third.âÂ
God damnit.Â
You roll your eyes. âWhat are you, my father? Iâm not even drunk.â
âAnd itâs probably best we keep it that way.â
âThere is no we.â Your eyes narrow. âI can handle myself and my alcohol. So give me back my champagne and go back to flirting with whatever oil tycoonâs daughter you were talking to earlier before she thinks I stole you from her.â
A flicker of surprise crosses his features, and you curse your misstep. It appears he wasnât the only one keeping tabs tonight.Â
âI wasnât flirtingââ
âI donât care what you were doing. Champagne.â You nod towards it pointedly. âNow.â
Jay makes no move towards the glass. Instead, he just looks at you for a moment. Assessing. âYouâre acting strange these days,â he finally says. He scans you again, all the way down to where your hemline brushes against your heels. âAnd you look different. Your hairâŠâ
You roll your eyes again. âYes, well youâll be delighted to know that even scholarship students have the privilege of getting a haircut sometimes.â
âWhat?â he blinks. âI didnât even know you wereââ he shakes his head. âNever mind. Itâs not just that. The color is different.â
Your hair, the hair you were so terribly fond of less than five minutes ago, you suddenly want to rip out of your scalp. âTry not to faint from the shock,â you say, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, âbut we do occasionally splurge on a box of hair dye, too.â
âIn class, too,â he presses, ignoring your sarcasm. âYouâre quiet. I mean, the other day in Professor Jungâs, you didnât even counter my suggestion for mass layoffs from that sample data set.â
He really has some nerve. Some sheer fucking audacity. âBelieve it or not, my sole purpose in life is not to correct every one of your idiotic takes in class. I think Iâd run out of oxygen if I had to do that.â
âYou had no problem doing it before,â he points out.
âAnd now Iâm not. Shouldnât you be relieved?â Champagne momentarily forgotten, you take a step forward, praying your argument will be final enough to get him to leave. âI mean, the way I see it, you should be thanking me. Everyone else is way too scared to go against you because of your family name. Now that even Iâm silent, the entire lecture hall is officially your echo chamber to conquer.â
âI donât want an echo chamber,â he shakes his head. âYouâve always had good, I mean, interesting ideas,â he amends. âYou made me have to think harder, approach problems in a new way. Itâs made me a lot better at analysis.âÂ
You thought you had all but run out of rage, but that comment incites a new flame you hadnât realized was still there.Â
âWell Iâm terribly sorry that I canât be your stepping stone to becoming a better analyst anymore,â you say, eyes narrow as your tone goes dangerously low. âI suppose youâll just have to do it on your own now.â
âWait,â he protests as he realizes how you interpreted his words. âThatâs not what I meantââ
But youâre over it. Over this conversation. Over this event. And most certainly over him.Â
âTo be completely honest, Jay, Iâm not really interested in hearing about what you meant. In fact, the only thing I really want is to have my champagne and some peace and quiet again. So, Iâm just gonna just take my glass back, and you can shove whatever you meant by that right up yourââ
He steps to the side again, this time just as your fingers are closing around the stem of your glass. Knocking into your wrist, he sends the contents of your glass flying, spilling down the front of his ridiculously expensive suit.Â
Itâs his fault, technically, but even with your renowned flippance on finances, you donât want to be responsible for footing that dry cleaning bill.Â
âShit,â you breathe. He just stands there for a moment, shellshocked. Useless, you think.Â
âHere,â you open your purse, pulling out the wad of napkins you keep stashed in case of accidents just like this. He takes them from you wordlessly as you search for more. Youâre sure you have another handful somewhere in your bag. âItâs a light liquid, so it should be okay. Just dab at it gently, and thenââ
You look back up, the words dying on your lips.Â
Because Jay is not dabbing gently at the stain on his suit jacket. In fact, he doesnât seem concerned with the spill at all. Instead, heâs intently examining one of the napkins you gave him, eyes narrowed in concentration.Â
Confusion flickers across your features. Did you accidentally give him a napkin that was already stained with something? Is there a weird brand name written on it?Â
âWhat?â you ask. âWhy arenât youââ you look at the paper in his hands again. With a sinking feeling in your gut, you realize that along with the napkins, you handed him something else. Something you never intended for anyone else to see.Â
Panicking, you reach for it. Jay is quicker. Holding it above his head, he keeps it firmly out of your reach. Even in your heels, your fingers canât quite close around it.Â
â___,â he says your name. His voice is entirely too close to your ear. Stopping your struggle for a moment, you look at him. Involuntary, you let out a small gasp at the sudden proximity. As if youâve been burned, you take a half step back.Â
Looking at you with his hand still stretched above his head, he asks in a low tone, âWhy do you have such a weird bucket list? And why do you carry it around in your purse?â
âItâs not a bucket listââ
âIt literally says âBucket Listâ at the top.â
God damnit. Why did you write that?  Â
âItâs nothing. Just give it back to meââ
He continues to dangle the paper just out of reach. âDoes someone have a hit out on you or something? Do you terrorize students in all your classes and now one of them is finally taking revenge?â Thereâs a playfulness in his tone, but you donât miss the concern hiding there, too. Even if he tries to disguise it.Â
âYou know,â he presses on, ââSheâs smarter than me and I hate her for itâ isnât a legally mitigating circumstance for murder. You can tell the authorities if someoneâs acting like it is.â
âNo oneâs trying to kill me.â In your panic, you almost miss his mangled attempt at a compliment.Â
âThen why are you acting like youâre going to die?â He says it so bluntly, so plainly, that you swear you nearly feel the world slip from underneath your feet.Â
He doesn't mean it. Thereâs no way he actually means it, but it sobers you in a startling way. The thought that Jay, someone youâve only come to know through contempt and competition, can read you like an open book.Â
âIâm notââ Your words suddenly feel like chalk in your throat. Youâre no stranger to lying, but you canât seem to bring yourself to say it. Not with the weight of his gaze, with the weight of your diagnosis, pressing against you from all angles.Â
You feel it again, that sickening and all too familiar sensation. It starts as a sharp, localized pain, just above your left eyebrow. You wince. Your breath is suddenly a difficult thing to catch.Â
In front of you, Jayâs posture eases slightly. Youâd be able to grab your list again now, surely. If only you could get your limbs to cooperate.Â
Pain spreads quickly, first through your head. The ringing in your ears is back, too. That high pitched sound you canât seem to shake as your vision starts to swim. You feel unsteady on your feet as nausea begins to roll in your stomach.Â
Beneath you, your legs feel useless. Made of jelly, feeble, about to buckle under your weight. You sway slightly, hand coming to your forehead as you try to think through the pain, through the haze.Â
You canât collapse. Not now. You have to stay standing. You have to be okay.Â
âWoah,â Jay says. Itâs lost somewhere amongst the high pitched frequency in your ears. Your pathetic bucket list lies discarded on the table behind him as he reaches forward, as if to steady you. His hands never find you, though. They just linger awkwardly in the space between your bodies, still half outstretched. âYou okay?â
You try to answer, try to brush him off and grit through your teeth that youâre fine, but it feels different from before. The nausea, the worst of the dizziness should be passing by now. Your consciousness should be coming back to you, not fading into darkness the more you try to cling to it.Â
âHey,â you think he says. Gently, so gently, and you can barely hear him, can barely distinguish words from one another. âHey, why donât you sit down. Iâll get you some water or something, andââ
You donât hear the end of his suggestion. With one final breath, your last tie to consciousness is severed. You feel your body teetering, before you start to slump forward. You think you feel it then, the warmth of his hands on your skin. The weight of your body against the soft fabric of his suit instead of the unforgiving surface of the hardwood floor beneath you.Â
Your head rests against his chest. Even as your consciousness fades, you can feel his heartbeat, the way it pounds beneath your cheek. You think you hear him call out, loud at first and then louder. Thereâs desperation in his voice as he begs, pleads for help.Â
With warm hands against your skin, and your pulse ringing loudly in your ears, the world around you fades entirely until thereâs nothing but darkness.Â
âŠ..
Squinting, the only thing you can make out is light. Itâs bright, too bright. The sudden influx of light only makes the dull ache against your temples more pronounced. Blinking slowly, you try to ease away some of your confusion.Â
Youâre not in your bedroom, that much you know for sure. Eyes opening fully, your surroundings begin to take shape. The ceiling above you is tiled, lined with fluorescents. Turning your head to the side, you see two chairs. A bedside table. A vitals monitor.Â
Youâre in a hospital.Â
Trying not to panic, you push at the bed beneath you, moving your body into an upright position. The monitor next to you doesnât seem to appreciate your effort. The second you sit up, it starts beeping incessantly, flashing a warning sign youâre not sure how to interpret.
A handful of seconds later, the door bursts open, a nurse flying in.Â
âYouâre awake,â she assesses. âGood.â Hands pressing against your shoulders gently, she urges you back to a laying position. âYou shouldnât try to sit up for at least a few minutes. Your body is still a little out of sorts right now.â
A little out of sorts. Thatâs a mild way of putting it, you suppose.Â
âIâŠâ you trail off, still a bit dazed. âWhich hospital am I in?â
The nurse frowns at you, sympathy in her eyes. âYouâre in Saint Maryâs, sweetheart. My name is Hana. Iâve been overseeing your care since your boyfriend brought you in yesterday evening.â
âMy⊠boyfriend?â you echo.
âMhm,â Hana nods. He should be back any minute. Iâll let him know youâre awake. He stayed here all night, you know. You found a good one,â she winks. Scanning the vitals machine, she adds, âYou seem to be pretty stable now, but you took quite a fall last night. Youâre lucky he was there to catch you. The doctor will want to speak to you again and get a final prognosis, but I think you should be free to go before the end of the day unless we find anything new.â
âOkay,â you nod, still a bit stuck on the word boyfriend. âThank youâŠâ you trail off, not able to remember the name she gave you.Â
âHana,â she finishes helpfully.Â
You nod again. âThank you, Hana.â
Just as she turns to leave, the door to your room opens again. This time, itâs Jay that comes tumbling in. Like Hana, he seems to have been in quite a hurry, if the shallowness of his breath is anything to go by.Â
His eyes lock on you. You have the sudden urge to fidget under his stare.Â
âThey told me you woke up,â he states. In the middle of your hospital room, he looks more unsure of himself than youâve ever seen him. His hands, usually folded neatly or busy with work, hang awkwardly at his sides.Â
His hair is mussed. It still looks good, of course, but itâs messier than youâve ever seen it.
Heâs still wearing his suit from last night, from the gala. Itâs not so pristine now. Heâs removed the jacket, for starters. And the champagne stain still spreads across the front of his white shirt, more obvious now that itâs dried.Â
His collar is askew, the top button undone by what appears to have been frantic hands. Â
You wish you were here under different circumstances, so you could truly revel in the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see Park Jongseong looking disheveled.Â
âSheâs awake,â Hana confirms. âVitals look good for now.â Looking at you again, she points to the red button on the table beside you. âPress that if you need anything.â Glancing between you and Jay, she ends with, âIâll give the two of you some privacy.â She winks at you again, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to correct her assumptions.Â
But then sheâs gone. Itâs just you and Jay.Â
âYou told them youâre my boyfriend?â You arch an eyebrow. Â
Jay shakes his head. âI didnât tell them anything.â
âBut you let them assume.âÂ
âIt was either that or they called your family.â At the mention of them, something cold and sharp pierces through your gut.Â
Still, you bluff, âWhat makes you think I donât want them to call my family?â
âDo you?â He calls it. âI can go tell Hana right now.â His gaze narrows, once again assessing you like youâre a particularly stubborn spreadsheet. âBut I donât think you want me to do that. In fact, I donât think youâve even told your family youâre sick at all.â
You freeze. âWhy would you assume that?â
âAm I wrong?â he challenges.Â
Your silence is confirmation enough.Â
âI knew it.â He laughs in disbelief, looking at the ceiling for a moment before he returns his gaze to you. âThatâs so like you. You know, I get not telling your family when you have the flu or some weird infection you picked up from a party you shouldnât have gone to, but Jesus Christ, ____. Cancer?â
Your body goes cold at the word. He knows. Jay knows.Â
His anger is confusing. And, you think, entirely unfair. âYeah, well, itâs not like I exactly chose to have it.âÂ
âNo, but you did choose to drink. You know, the doctor told me he specifically warned you about the side effects of alcohol with your medication.â
âThat has to be a HIPAA violation. I should sue for dubious ethicsââ
âThen I hope every doctor you come across has âdubious ethicsâ so they can get someone else to help keep you alive,â he exasperates, volume rising, âsince you donât seem very interested in doing it yourself.â
The silence that follows is deafening. You must have misheard him. Thereâs no way he actually has enough audacity to say that to you. But this is Park Jongseong youâre talking about.Â
Of course he does. Of course he fucking does.Â
Your voice is low when you enunciate with an unnatural level of precision, âExcuse me? What did you just say to me?â
Jay has a mind of his own. âI mean, seriously, what the hell were you thinkingââ
This time, you wonât let him finish. âI donât know who the fuck you think you are, but you donât know the first thing about me or my family or my situation. I know youâre used to walking into a room and having your opinion matter more than everyone elseâs, but you donât get to do that here.â Your chest is heaving now. Youâre half afraid your vitals monitor is going to start beeping at you again. But youâre angry. âThis is my life. My burden to bear. Thank you for helping me get to the hospital safely. Truly. But that doesnât give you the right to dish out your opinion unsolicited.âÂ
Across from you, Jay takes a deep inhale. Releases it.Â
His eyes scan your face. He sees the anger there. The resentment. He drags a palm across his forehead, and on his next exhale, he says, much more quietly, âIâm sorry.â You can hardly believe your ears.Â
âWhat?â You have to make sure. Surely you heard him wrong.Â
But he says it again, more audible this time.Â
âIâm sorry,â he repeats. âYouâre right. Iâm just⊠confused, ____.â Heâs looking at you again, in that way that you hate. Like heâs trying to see all the way down to your bones. âI canât figure this out at all. I mean, the ___ I know fought tooth and nail for every class assignment, no matter how small. You practically ran yourself into the ground every exam season since freshman year. Iâve never met anyone who works as hard, who tries as hard, as you at anything. And that was for test grades. And now⊠this is⊠this is your life. And I may not know everything about you or the situation, but from where Iâm standing, it looks like youâve just accepted it. Iâve never seen you go down for anything without a fight, and now Iâm supposed to believe that youâre just gonna let death take you?â He shakes his head. âItâs just not you.â
âItâs different.â You shake your head. You donât expect him to understand. The last thing you want to discuss with a conglomerate heir is family finances. So youâll tell him in vague terms. âAssignment grades, test scores, those are things I can control. The outcome is directly related to my effort. This is⊠different. Thereâs something broken in my body. It doesnât play by the rules, and it doesnât care about the effort I put in. No matter what I do, itâs just broken.â
âBut the doctor mentioned treatment plans. He said there were options to considerââ
âNot for me,â you shake your head. âThose options arenât things I can do.â
âBut why?â he presses. âThis is your life. Even if thereâs only a small chance, isnât anything worth trying?â
âI donât know,â you admit. Itâs more honest than you planned to be. But his searching gaze, his rising desperation, have you feeling vulnerable. âI donât know if itâs the right choice. If Iâll regret it. But itâs still my choice, and this is what Iâm choosing now.â
âSo what?â he pleads for a bit of understanding. âYou just stick it out for a couple of years and then say goodbye to everything?â
âThree months,â you correct.Â
âWhat?â
âThe doctor estimated I have about three months left. I suppose itâs a little less now,â you amend. âItâs already been nearly a week.â
âThree mââ His voice breaks on the last syllable, eyes wide where they meet yours. Something releases in his body. The breath that was holding him upright. He deflates. âThatâs notâ You wonât even graduate. Youâll hardly finish the semester.â
âI know,â you nod. Youâve had time, albeit not much, to process some of your grief, your shock. Watching it play out across Jayâs features in real time is jarring, to say the least. âThatâs why I made that stupid list I accidentally handed you at the gala. I know itâs not exactly a good bucket list, but theyâre things that I want to do. Things that will make the next three months feel meaningful.âÂ
He just stares at you for a moment. âI⊠youâre so calm.â
âBelieve me,â you smile ruefully, âIâve had my fair share of tears and screaming and throwing things. But none of it changes anything.â You look away from him now, eyes on the window. âI donât want to spend the next three months angry. Not at myself or anyone else or the universe.â
You feel his eyes against the side of your face. He wonât say anything in response. Wonât give any sort of acknowledgement or approval to your acceptance.Â
Instead, he tells you, âYou have to stay away from alcohol.â
At that, you roll your eyes. âCut me some slack. You tell a girl sheâs got three months to live and you donât even let her drown her sorrows in a glass of champagne?â Itâs meant to be a joke. Or at least a bit lighthearted. Something to diffuse to stifling tension.Â
Jay doesnât seem to appreciate the punchline.Â
âDo you know how fucking terrified I was when you collapsed like that?â His voice is low, urgent. Your gaze meets his again, and thereâs something desperate in his eyes. âIâm serious, ___. No alcohol.â
The gravity of his tone hits somewhere deep within you. Even if itâs only fleeting, even if it wasnât intentional, itâs nice to think for a moment that someone else shares this burden with you. That thereâs another soul in this world that understands whatâs happening, that cares about the choices you make and their effect on you.Â
âOkay,â you breathe, voice small. âNo alcohol.â
âGood,â Jay nods. His relief doesnât feel fabricated, not when you watch some of the tension ease out of his shoulders. âOkay,â he nods. âHana mentioned that the doctor will want to talk to you again. He should be stopping by soon. Iâll wait for you, and then I can drive you back to campus.â
âYou donât have to do that.â You shake your head. âI can just take the busââ
âDonât be ridiculous,â he cuts you off. âIâm already here.â
âOkay,â you nod. You could argue further, but you have the feeling it would be useless. Suddenly, youâre the one feeling unsure of yourself. âThank you,â you tell him, more a force of habit than anything.Â
Silence stretches between you, both of you avoiding direct eye contact.Â
As you look around the room, a question strikes you. âI know that this is Saint Maryâs but which ward am I in? It looks different from before.â
âAh,â Jay nods. âThatâs because youâre not in a ward.â Confusion flickers across your features. Heâs quick to explain, âThis is a private room.â
âA privââ You nearly choke on your words. You donât even want to imagine the hospital bill youâre currently racking up. âI didnât request that.â
âI know,â he says, either oblivious to your panic or ignoring it. âI did.âÂ
âYouâŠâ You try not to let anger be your primary emotion, but itâs difficult in the moment. âJay, I canât afford a private room.â
At that, he only looks surprised. âWhat are you talking about?â He balks. âYou donât have to⊠I wasnât going to ask you to pay.â
âOf course Iâm paying,â you argue. âYou think Iâm going to let you cover my hospital bills?âÂ
âYouâre not paying me back,â he shakes his head.Â
âDonât do that,â you warn as soon as you see something dangerous start to enter his gaze. âI might be sick and I might not have money, but you donât get to pity me.â
At that, he looks genuinely surprised. Heâs quiet for a moment. And then, soft but firmer than you expect, he says, âI donât pity you. I donât, canât even begin to understand you, but I donât pity you. Not today, not ever. My family donates regularly to this hospital,â he explains. âThey offered to put you here as soon as I said my name. Thereâs nothing to pay back.â
âOh,â you say. Your voice comes out smaller than you mean for it to. And then, just because it feels due, âThank you.â
Jay looks at you for a moment, expression unreadable. âYou can thank me by actually listening to what the doctor says this time. And then by following his advice.â
âI will,â you nod.
âSeriously. Medication side effects are no joke. You have toââ
âI will,â you repeat, firmer this time.Â
âOkay,â Jay accepts. âGood.â
As if on cue, you hear a quiet shuffling outside your door. Muffled voices exchanging words, feet turning towards the entrance. The doctor must be here.Â
Jay hears it too. He looks at you one last time and instructs, âBehave. And listen.â
Something about the way he says it has your spine feeling rigid. âI already told you I willââÂ
The knock interrupts your protests as the doctor enters the room. Itâs the same middle-aged man you saw the last time you visited Saint Maryâs. The one who gave you your diagnosis. The one who told you you have three months left to live.Â
You donât remember his name now. DoctorâŠ
Your eyes land on his name tag. Thatâs right. Doctor Kim.
He looks at you now with an expression thatâs hard to decipher. Not pity. Not sympathy. Now that he knows you have someone willing to come to the hospital for you.Â
You wonder if heâs curious about it now, the reason you told him you had no one to call before.Â
Itâs impossible to tell. Doctor Kimâs expression is unreadable. Heâs a malignant tumor specialist, after all. Heâs used to giving out terrible news, to putting even the worst of circumstances in plain terms.Â
Jay greets him before excusing himself. He reminds you heâll be waiting, when youâre done. And then, he's gone.Â
At first, Doctor Kim rechecks your vitals, jots down a couple of notes. And then he says, âI canât lie, Miss ____. I was hoping the next time I saw you, weâd be discussing treatment plans.â
âAh,â you intone. You try to keep your voice light, but you canât quite look at him when you say, âIâm sorry to disappoint.âÂ
âChampagne, was it?â He pulls a stool up next to your beside and sits. Thereâs no judgement in his voice, not even the frustration that Jay had. Heâs just confirming the facts, but that somehow feels even worse. Like youâve disappointed him.Â
âOnly a few glasses.âÂ
âA sip of alcohol is enough to trigger serious side effects with the medication youâre on. Youâre lucky all you did was lose consciousness. Youâre very lucky someone was there to catch you. If you had fallen, weâd be having a very different conversation right now. If you were able to talk at all, that is.â
The gravity of his words hit you with full force.
âWhat?â The syllable is small, breathy.
Doctor Kim sighs. âPerhaps the gravity of the situation was not fully conveyed at our previous meeting. Iâll be more clear now. Miss, ____, your body isnât able to heal itself right now. Your blood cells, even the healthy ones, are deteriorating rapidly. If you fall, if something breaks, if you cut your finger and it becomes infected, the three month estimate I gave you becomes much shorter.â
Thereâs no ringing in your ears, but his words feel muffled, like youâre listening underwater.Â
He continues, âThatâs why my primary treatment plan includes a specialized, targeted version of chemotherapy that canââ
You shake your head. âIâm not interested.â
âYouâre not interested in what, exactly?â he asks. âLiving?â
Youâre quiet for a moment. Canât quite meet his gaze. âAm I free to go?â
âYouâre stable for now, but Iâd like to keep you one more night ifââ
âIs that a yes?â
He sighs. âIf you insist on going, then I wonât force you to stay.â
âThank you, doctor. Iâll be more careful.âÂ
He has more to say, youâre sure of it, but the room remains silent as he helps detach the monitors from your body.Â
And then thatâs the end of it.Â
The drive back to campus is quiet, mostly. Jay has some old classic rock album on shuffle, but he keeps the volume low. Lets you look out the window and doesnât say much. Doesnât expect you to either.Â
The truth sits heavy between the two of you now.Â
It interrupts your plans, shatters the mirage youâd constructed.Â
For the last week, youâve imagined your death and the moments leading up to it as a solitary endeavor. You know youâll have to tell your family eventually. But you have to time it right. If thereâs any hope, theyâll insist on treatment. Even though it would mean losing the threadbare pieces of their lives that theyâve managed to scrape back together.Â
You told Professor Jung that your health checkup went well, told Kaia that the two hundred dollar rent increase coming next year was something you still needed time to think about.Â
Youâre prolonging it. Delaying it. Death is your dirty little secret. Well, was.Â
The evidence of that currently has his eyes trained on the road ahead, knuckles slightly pale against the steering wheel.Â
And that presents a problem.Â
As you approach the outskirts of campus, you break the silence. âPlease donât tell anyone,â you request.Â
Jay sighs. Resigned, like he expected this. âDoes anyone know?â
âNo,â you shake your head.Â
âYour family?â
He already guessed in the hospital, but you confirm it again now. âIâll tell them when the timeâs right.â
âWhen itâs too late, you mean.â Heâs stealing glances at you now. You school your features into something neutral as he does it again. Reads you like a damn open book. Predicts even the darkest of your plans with ease.Â
âItâs complicated,â you argue. Youâre not sure why you feel the need to justify your choices to him.Â
âHow so?â he presses.
You deflect. âItâs a long story.â
Jay wonât give it up. âI have time.â
Youâre quick, too. âYeah, well I donât.â
He doesnât get it at first. âWhat? What urgent plans could you possibly have on a Sunday afternoon?â
Youâre silent for a moment, just giving him a look while you wait for the ill timed joke to sink in.Â
âOh,â he finally says, slow on the uptake. And then heâs glaring. âThatâs not funny.â
âI think it is.â You shrug.Â
âDo you really? Or is it just easier?â
That catches you off guard. âWhat?â
âIt is easier,â he repeats, âto treat it all as some big joke? Something meaningless? To pretend like your life doesnât matter to you, like none of this scares you?
Youâre quiet for a moment. Silent, while the wake of his words settles around you. It extends a bit too long, and despite all the boundaries heâs already broken today, he worries heâs overstepped.Â
âSorry,â he apologizes. âIââ
âOf course Iâm scared,â you whisper. In the passenger seat of his car, the admission feels like defeat. You feel like youâre on that bench again, by the business buildings. Only this time, you arenât alone. âJay, Iâve never been more fucking terrified in my life. Death is so⊠unknown. Iâm scared it will hurt. Iâm scared that it wonât, that Iâll feel nothing at all. Iâm scared that three months will be over before I have the chance to do anything that matters, and Iâm fucking scared that I wonât even actually get all the time the doctor estimated. When I close my eyes and try to sleep, I see my parents. My little brother. I imagine them seeing me like that â pale and stiff and wrong â and they just keepââ Your voice breaks. âTheyâre always crying. And then itâs not just fear anymore. Itâs guilt too. I made them feel that way. I couldnât just stay alive for them. It was my fault, and deep down, maybe they resent me for it, too.â
âThen whyââ He whispers, voice cracking too like heâs the one whoâs suffering. âWhy wonât you get help? Why wonât you tell them?â
âBecause believe it or not,â you whisper back, âI think it would be worse if I did. I watched them lose everything, give everything up once. I canât ask them to do it again for me. The guilt would eat me alive. I canât be that selfish.â
âAnd this isnât selfish? Making their choice for them?â
You shake your head. âItâs my turn to make a sacrifice.â
âAre you insane?â Heâs louder now, as if sense can be forced into your head with volume. âLove isnât some transaction you pass back and forth. Youâre lying to yourself,â he accuses. âYouâre not telling them because you already know what they would do. Theyâd do anything for you. It doesnât matter if theyâve been through hell before. Theyâd choose to do it again. Always. So put your guilt aside for a second and let people that love you take care of you when you need it.â
Heâs dangerously close to striking a vein you donât want him to find. His arguments are making too much sense, eroding the decisions you thought were set in stone. You need him to stop. âYou donât get itââ
âBecause you wonât tell me anything!â His palms splay against the steering wheel now, open in frustration.
âI donât have to!â Youâre loud now too. âI barely know you. Itâs not like you would even begin to understand, anyway. You were born with the world at your fingertips, but in case you need a reality check, thatâs not what life is like for the rest of usââ
Jay switches into the left lane so suddenly it cuts through your words. Thrown by the force, you grip the armrest for support. âWhat are you doing? Youâre about to miss the turnââ
âI hope,â his voice is low now. Steady, controlled but just barely. âThat Iâm misunderstanding you.â
He waits until the light is green, then he spins the car through a U-turn.Â
âJay, what are you doing? I need to go back to campusââ
Heâs done hearing your excuses. âAre you telling me this is about fucking money?â
In the passenger seat, your blood runs cold. Shit. Shit. You said too much.Â
âI didnât say that.â
âNo, but you said I wouldnât understand. Because of my family. Their resources. Their money.â
âI did not say that,â you argue, but itâs futile. Weak to even your ears.
âYou implied it.â
âSo what,â you scoff. âIâm done talking about it. Like I said, you wouldn't get it. And why did you turn around? Where are you even going?â
âIâm taking you back to the hospital.â His tone leaves no room for discussion.Â
âWhat?â For the second time, your blood runs cold. âWhy?â
âWhy do you think?â He says it like itâs obvious. Like nothing youâve said in the past few hours has gotten through to him. âSo you can tell the doctor you changed your mind and start treatment.â
Youâre panicking now, pulling at your seatbelt. âI didnât change my mind,â you protest. âIâm not starting treatmentââ
âAnd Iâm not gonna drive you back to campus and act like everythingâs okay. Iâm not gonna sit here and watch you die.â
His words hang in the air, the implication obvious. He has the money, after all. Probably wonât even notice itâs missing. You hate the way it makes you feel small, like you owe him something. Like heâs doing this out of some misplaced sense of obligation.
Your voice is barely audible. âYou told me you didnât pity me.â
âI donât,â he reaffirms. âThis isnât pity.â
Your words bite, even more than you mean for them to. âWell, Iâm not a fucking charity case either.â
âThen itâs not charity.â He shakes his head. âItâs a deal.â
âA deal?â you echo. âWhat deal could you possibly make with meââ
âLet me finish first in our class,â Jay says, and it catches you entirely off guard. âIn all of our remaining courses and overall class rank,â he clarifies. âLet me take first.â
You scoff. âYou donât need me to do anything for that.â
âI do,â he insists. âYou and I have been neck and neck since our first year. Competing against you, thereâs no guarantee.â
âThatâs hardly an equal trade,â you point out. âI canât even imagine how much moneyââ
âIt is for me.â His jaw tightens. âIf I donât rank first, my father wonât officially initiate me as a shareholder. I wonât have any position or power in the company. And heâs not fond of second chances. I wonât have an opportunity to remedy my mistake later.â
At that, you turn to face him fully, surprise coloring your features. His eyes are still on the road, but youâre sure he can feel that way you scan his side profile, the tense set of his jaw and shoulders.Â
You canât get a read on him, on what heâs thinking. Does it humiliate him to ask? Is he even telling the truth? You canât imagine someone in your family ever treating you so coldly, but the sudden tension doesnât seem fabricated.Â
You know youâd be stupid not to agree. You donât need to rank first to keep your scholarship, and that accolade wonât mean much past graduation. You glance at him again. Well, at least not for you.Â
And regardless of the consequences, youâd get a fighting chance. Something akin to hope blooms in your chest. You havenât let yourself feel it, not since that first night. Itâs almost addictive now, like water in a desert. You stop yourself just before you start scooping mouthfuls with your bare palms.Â
âI canâtââ
âPlease,â he whispers. Itâs not an argument now. Not a debate. Heâs begging you.Â
And thatâs what does it. Unties the last knot of your resistance. Â
Youâre quiet for a moment longer, and thenâ
âOkay,â you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. Jay keeps his gaze forward, but you watch a flicker of relief ghost across his features.Â
âI have two conditions,â he tells you.Â
Itâs so like him, you think. To get his way and then ask for more.Â
âYouâre really gonna push it? I could change my mind, you know.â But you wonât. Not when youâve already tasted water from the oasis. Not when hope is already curling deep within you. Not when you could live.Â
Jay calls your bluff, too. âFirst, you tell your family.â
âButââ
âIt doesnât have to be right now,â he adds. âBut within three days.â
You want to argue, to protest. But theyâll want to come see me. Theyâll have to take time off work, away from the restaurant. And the transportation costs will be too high.Â
Jay beats you to it. âIâll cover any related costs that you let me. Iâll help you hide it, too. Pretend itâs part of a donation program or a special fund for university students.âÂ
Itâs generous. Itâs so terribly considerate that it makes your head spin. You canât linger on it too long without feeling uncomfortable.Â
Instead, you say, âFine. Whatâs the other condition?â
âYour bucket list.â Jay nods to your purse that rests on your lap. You realize he must have returned it while you were unconscious, the list you accidentally gave him last night. âYou still spend the next three months checking everything off.â
âWhat?â you frown. You werenât expecting that. âWhy?â
âTreatment is hope,â he explains. âNot a guarantee. You took the time to write it, so you should see it through.â
Part of you hesitates. If youâre really going to do this, if youâre really going to live, then youâll need every last penny youâve saved. Sunoo will need it. Your parents will need it.Â
But you suppose you can take a sleeper train to the beach to avoid hotel costs and find some old convertible with a cheap rental fee to drive around for an hour. And kissing a stranger doesnât exactly cost anything.Â
Suddenly, the thought of Jay reading that particular list item has heat rising in your cheeks. Itâs probably too much to pray heâs forgotten about it.Â
But youâve left enough of your pride in his car and at his feet.Â
For a moment, you imagine what this feels like for him. What it would be like to give out such an impossible amount of money so easily. To have a father that gives ultimatums that could change the trajectory of his entire future in an instant.Â
And then you think of you. Of the simple truth youâve been dodging and denying and ducking from since reality slapped you across the face a week ago.Â
You donât want to die.Â
You think of that little girl. The one who wanted to be an astronaut, a lawyer, a singer. She wouldnât want you to die, either.Â
And like Jay said, this isnât a guarantee. But it is hope.Â
For you. For Sunoo. For your parents. For her. Maybe, you think, even for Park Jongseong, who's been slowly edging further and further past the speed limit for the last five minutes.Â
âOkay,â you tell him, looking out at the buildings you pass. You still donât know most of them, but thereâs another word there now, and it makes all the difference.Â
Yet.Â
You donât know most of them yet.Â
So you seal your fate with one last word. âDeal.â
synopsis: one visit to your friendly neighbor's house with the intention of giving him freshly baked pastries that your mom made took quite a heated turn.
genre: smut
contains: profanity, weed usage, high sex, age gap (jake is 24, reader is 18), unprotected sex, corruption, unethical behavior, morally grey characters, power imbalance
smut warnings: dom!jake x sub!reader, spit play, masturbation (f.), voyeurism, exhibitionism, inexperienced!reader, virginity loss, dirty talk, corruption kink, clitoral stimulation, pussy rubbing, teasing, fingering, mutual masturbation, daddy kink, manhandling, oral (f. & m. receiving), 69, pet names (little girl, sweetie, doll...), reader has a bush (bush girlies rise!), breeding kink, roleplay elements, praise kink, command play, jake loooves tits, both are just needy and vocal
NOT PROOFREAD! (english is not my first language)
MDNI!
Jake was the kind of neighboor everyone loved.
The kind who remembers birthdays without being reminded. The kind who waves first, who carries grocery bags inside without being asked, who laughs easily and listens like whatever you're saying actually matters. The older women on the block adore him. The kids follow him around when he's outside fixing his car. Even your mom softened toward him within weeks of him moving in.
He moved here a few months ago, quiet at first, boxes stacked neatly by the door, sleeves rolled up as he assembled furniture by himself. Twenty-four, living alone, polite to a fault. He smiles with his whole face â a boxy grin, puppy eyes, the kind of expression that makes people feel chosen.
You and Jake have talked before. A plenty of times actually. Over the fence while you were hanging laundry. On the sidewalk when he caught you struggling with grocery bags and insisted on carrying them. Once on his porch when you returned the screwdriver he lent your dad. Easy conversations. Comfortable ones. You laugh at his jokes and he teases you gently about how formal you sound when you speak to him.
"You don't have to call me sir." He said once, grinning. You turned bright red at his words, nodding as you avoided his eyes. He'd liked that.
So when your mom hands you a plate of freshly baked pastries and tells you to take some over to Jake, it doesn't feel unusual. It feels neighborly. Familiar. You straightened your back as you pressed the doorbell, afternoon breeze making your skin prickle with goosebumps.
He answers the door in a loose gray hoodie and sweatpants that hang low on his hips, hair slightly messy like he just woke up from a nap. He blinks at you once, then breaks into that soft, unfair smile. "Hey." He says, smiling like he was expecting you. You grinned sweetly, the cuteness making Jake's smile last longer as his eyes stopped on the plate in your handsâoffered and tempting.
"Hi! Sorry to disturb you but mom made some and asked me to bring them over to you." You explain, holding out the plate with both hands. Always both hands. Always careful. Your lively and fresh voice lured a chuckle out of him and the way you grinned made his heart light with joy.
"You're too good to me." He says lightly. His fingers brush yours â not accidental, not entirely deliberate either. Just enough to make your breath hitch. "You're always bringing things over. At this point I owe you."
"You don't owe me anything." You reply quickly, sweet as ever. His smile shifts at that, subtly and slower. "Come in for a minute, for a coffe or something. The cookies I'm baking are almost done too." He offers. "At least let me say thank you properly."
You hesitate â but only for a moment. You've been inside before, just briefly. To drop something off. To borrow something.
It's harmless.
Jake is harmless.
He steps aside, letting you walk in first. You slip off your crocs by the door out of habit, lining them neatly against the wall. The click of the door shutting behind you feels louder than it should. The hallways smelled differently, a mix of cocoa and sugar flowed around the space. "It already smells delicious." You comment, straightening up as you glanced at him. He smiled sweetly. "Just wait till you try them."
His house smells different than yours â less floral, more masculine, now with a hint of tasty cookies. There's low music playing from somewhere deeper inside, something mellow and rhythmic. The living room is tidy but lived-in. A couch that looks too comfortable. A coffee table with a few magazines stacked neatly. The balcony door is slightly cracked open, cool air drifting in, stirring the curtains lazily. You hover near the edge of the room, hands clasped in front of you like you're not sure where to put them.
Jake walks past you toward the kitchen, setting the plate down carefully. His movements are relaxed â like he's completely at ease having you here.
"You can sit, you know." He says gently, glancing at you over his shoulder. "Relax." He moved over to the oven, putting on his glove before opening it and taking the hot pan out. The room filled with the smell of cinnamon and tempting sweetness.
"Okay." You murmured to yourself and moved toward the couch. It sinks slightly under your weight when you sit. Too soft. Too intimate somehow. "What would like to drink?!" Jake's voice boomed off from the kitchen paired with the sound of plates bumping. "Just water please!" You answered back, voice high as your eyes moved over the walls filled with decorations and pictures of his family you would presume.
Jake returns with two glasses of water and a plate of freshly baked cookies, he gave one glass over to you as he set down the plate on the table. His fingers brush yours again â slower this time. He doesn't pull away immediately.
"Thanks for always bringing stuff over." He says, quieter now as he took a seat. "You're⊠really thoughtful." He flashed you a smile. You shrug, eyes dropping. "It's nothing. My mom just loves sharing."
"Yeah." He hums, studying you and letting out a breathy laugh. "Say thank you to your parents too, they are really amazing." You nod with a sweet and generous smile and take a small sip of water just to do something to avoid the any kind of awkwardness.
Your gaze drifts to the coffee table â and that's when you notice it.
A small tin. A lighter beside it.
Your eyes flick up to him instinctively.
He notices, eyes going wide for a second before he calmly reached for it, like he just remembered it was there. "Oh, sorry..." His fingers reached around the tin. "Should've put that away." He doesn't though. Jake smiled, the tin and the lighter in both of his hands as he held them, his elbows on his thighs rolling the tin as he observed it. You smiled tightly, remotely confused but not wanting to ask any questions as he cutely looked at you, a tight lipped adorable smile on his face.
"Ever tried it?" He asks, like he's asking about coffee, just another casual interaction. You blink. "Tried what?"
His mouth curves faintly.
"Weed."
The word lands heavier than you expect. Oh. You shake your head immediately. "No. I m, meanâ I've never." The answer is immediate and honest. You shift a little on the couch. "I mean, I've never⊠been around it." He nods slowly, watching your face carefully.
"You don't look scandalized." He observes, eyebrow knitting together as he chuckled. "I'm not." You say quickly, then falter. "I just didn't know that's what you meant." A small smile tugs at his mouth.
"Thought I was talking about the cookies?* He teases softly, head nudging toward the plate on the table as he lightly laughed. Your cheeks warmed at that, eyes back on the glass in your lap that you were gripping steady. "Maybe". Noticing the way you retracted and the demeanor seemed to slowly turn awkward he added simply.
"It's not a big deal though." He says, slightly shaking his head. "Just makes things feel lighter. Warmer." His eyes meet yours deliberately as you looked back up. "Sometimes a little more intense." Your stomach tightens at the way he says that.
You glance at the balcony door, slightly cracked open, letting fresh air in. The music hums softly in the background. The room feels warm, safe. You glance toward the hallway. Toward the very real front door behind you.
You should probably go home soon. But you don't stand up.
"Does it make you uncomfortable?" He asks after a moment. You think about it. "No." You admit quietly. "I just don't know anything about it." That shifts something in his expression â interest, maybe. "Never been curious?" He asks, eyes narrowing in a questioning manner. You hesitate this time. "âŠMaybe a little." The honesty surprises even you. Jake's gaze softens, but there's something darker flickering underneath. Not cruel, just aware. "Curiosity's not a bad thing." He says.
You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to calm your nerves. You wet your lips nervously, eyes flicking to the tin in his hands. "What does it feel like?" You ask, barely above a whisper. His eyes darken just a fraction. "Well." He says slowly, setting the tin down on the table but leaning back onto the armrest of the couch right by his side. "That depends."
"On what?" You ask, trying to sound steadier than you feel. "On the person." His gaze drifts over your face, unhurried. "Some people get giggly. Some get sleepy. SomeâŠ" He pauses, thumb brushing over the edge of the tin absentmindedly. "Feel everything more." Your fingers tighten around your glass. "More?" You echo back, waiting for the elaboration. The curiosity now eating you alive. "Touch. Sound. Breathing." His eyes lift to yours again. "It's like the volume's turned up." The music in the background suddenly feels louder. You swallow eyes flicking back to your glass. He notices every little reaction. The way your shoulders pull in. The way your thighs press together when he says touch. Jake but his lip to stop a grin from showing on his face. eyes going over the neat small table. "ButâŠ" You start, curiosity tugging at you despite yourself. "Is it bad?"
Jake lets out a quiet laugh. "It's not some scary gateway drug, sweetheart." The nickname slips out so naturally you almost miss it. Almost. "It's just a little high." He says it so easily. Your eyes drift to the balcony door again, the curtain shifting with the breeze. The world outside looks the same as it always does â quiet street, trimmed hedges, nothing scandalous about it.
Inside feels different.
"Have you done it a lot?" You ask, Jake nods once, settling back against the couch, legs spread comfortably, completely at ease. "A few times." Jake could not stop his gaze from drifting to your lap, the way you were clenching the glass, the way your shorts was riding up your thighs, exposing more than necessary without you noticing. Your shallow breathing still somehow steady even if he could see the nerves were pooling in you. His gaze lingers â not subtle now. Watching you. Studying the way your chest rises, the way your lips part slightly when you think too hard.
Silence stretches.
You glance at the tin again then back at him. "So you just⊠smoke it?" You ask, almost shy. Jake's brows lift slightly. "You're asking a lot of questions for someone who's not interested." He adds, tone light. Your cheeks warm. "I didn't say I wasn't interested."
That makes him pause. He wasn't expecting that. "Oh?" A small smile pulls at his mouth. "So you are?" Your pulse jumps. You hesitate just for a second.
Maybe it's the way he's looking at you. Maybe it's the way the room feels heavier. Maybe it's the fact that you're eighteen and tired of always being the careful one.
"âŠMaybe." You say, softer. He leans back slightly, studying you in a way that makes your stomach flip. "You wanna try?" He asks, more direct now. Your fingers curl into your shorts for a second before you force them to relax.
"I meanâ" You start, nerves tangling your words. "I just⊠I want to know what it feels like." There's something almost shy about it, not rebellious or reckless, just honest. Jake's expression shifts â not darker, not predatory. Just surprised. Heat rises to your cheeks as you set the glass down carefully on the table, mostly because your hands are starting to betray you.
Silence settles between you again, humming but almost loud. He reaches for the tin again, but doesn't open it yet, just rests his fingers on top of it. "You sure?" He asks, voice lowering and teasing now. "Didn't think you were the rebellious type." You straighten a little at that. "I'm not." You defend quickly.
He hums, unconvinced. "Then what are you?"
You falter. "I just⊠want to know what it's like." The same words were repeated from earlier, eyes up to meet his. His gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes.
"Curious girls get into trouble." He says lightly. Your breath hitches at his words, a heat crawling up your spine that made you stiffen. "But..." He adds after a beat, softer now. "Only if they want to." Your heart is pounding so loud you're sure he can hear it.
"I want to." You say â quieter than you meant to, but steady. Jake studies you carefully, t there's no rush in him. No impatience. Just control. "You don't have to impress me." He murmurs. "And you don't have to say yes just because you're curious."
"I'm not saying yes because of that." You reply, lifting your chin slightly. "I'm saying yes because I want to try." A slow smile spreads across his face â this time he doesn't hide it. "Alright." He says and opens the tin. The faint earthy scent drifts into the air, mixing with the sweetness of cookies and the cool breeze from the balcony. He doesn't rush. He moves with practiced ease, but there's something deliberate about how unhurried he is. Like he knows you're watching.
Jake prepares it slowly, not looking nervous. Completely composed. He glances up at you while he works, rolling the paper between his fingers, spreading the herbs evenly. "Last chance." He teases gently, bringing up the small soon to be blunt to his smirking lips, letting his tongue wet the end. "Still sure, sweetie?" You watched with attentiveness what he is doing and the way he looked at you as he licked the paper, eyes mischief and teasing, lips curved â it made your breath hitch.
"Yes." You say, eyes flicking to his own. This time, there's no hesitation. Jake leans over to grab the lighter. "Okay." He murmurs and holds your gaze a second longer before bringing the freshly rolled blunt to his lips. The teasing curve of his mouth lingers as he lights it, the small flame briefly illuminating his features.
He inhales slowly, deliberately â not breaking eye contact.
You watch the way his chest rises. The way his shoulders relax as he pulls the smoke in. The way he tilts his head slightly, holding it for a moment before exhaling toward the open balcony door. The smoke drifts lazily into the air, curling in the warm light.
He looks⊠completely at ease.
"Okay. " He murmurs, voice just a touch lower now. "Come here." You hesitate only a second before shifting closer on the couch. Not enough to touch him fully â but close enough that your knees almost brush. He notices that too. "You ever smoked anything before?" He asks lightly.
You shake your head. "Alright." His tone softens, more instructive now, less teasing. "Don't overthink it. Just breathe in slow. Not too hard." He brings it toward you but doesn't let go yet. "Here." H says quietly. "Hold it like this."
His fingers guide yours â warm, steady â adjusting how you grip it. The contact is brief but deliberate enough to make your pulse skip. "Relax your shoulders." He adds. You didn't realize they were tense. He lifts it slightly toward your lips. "Slow breath. Just a little." Your heart is pounding. You lean forward carefully, inhaling like he told you to.
It's harsher than you expected. You cough almost immediately. Jake laughs softly, not mocking, just amused and sets the blunt aside for a second. "Easy." He murmurs, his hand coming to rest lightly between your shoulder blades. "Told you not to pull too hard." Your eyes water slightly as you try to recover, embarrassed.
"I did exactly what you said." You mumble. "I know." He smiles, thumb brushing once, absentmindedly, against your back before pulling his hand away. "First time's always like that." You glance at him, trying to gauge whether he's teasing again. He isn't. Not fully.
"Try again." He says gently. "Smaller this time." You nod, still a little flustered. He hands it back to you, watching closely. This time you inhale more carefully â slower, controlled. It's still unfamiliar, but you don't cough. "Good. " He says quietly. The praise lands somewhere warm in your chest. You hand it back to him without realizing how close you've leaned in. He takes another slow pull, then passes it back.
The exchange becomes easier the second time. Less awkward as the high started creeping in, light and still not fully there. You shift slightly on the couch. Jake studies you. "How do you feel?" He asks. You blink, trying to focus on the question. "Warm." You admit after a moment. "Kind of⊠floaty?" A small, satisfied smile curves his lips. "Yeah..." he says. "That's normal."
Your limbs feel heavier, but not unpleasant. The room seems softer somehow. The air thicker. Your gaze drifts to his face â and stays there longer than it usually would. He notices. "You're staring," he says lightly. You don't look away this time. "Everything does feel louder." You murmur, almost to yourself. His eyes darken slightly at that. "Yeah?" He asks, bringing the blunt up to his lips, still not high. He inhaled, eyes stuck to your lidded eyes, the way they moved over the room as you leaned back against the couch.
"If you don't feel well you need to tell me." He spoke as the herbal smoke escaped his parted lips, the high getting to his head gradually. His head felt slightly lighter, back meeting the couch rest bringing the ashtray between your two. Your attention moved back to him, vision fuzzy at the edges as your gaze moved to his hand on his thigh. The blunt burning between his long slender fingers and smoke curling in the air.
Before you knew it, you reached for it â fingers eagerly and clumsily taking the burning rolled paper. "Woah, easy." He smiled at that, a lighthearted laugh escaping him, fingers trying to steadily transfer the burning blunt to you. Jake felt like he was floating, eyes slowly turning red and eyelids dropping. His face felt relaxed, the smile on his face heavy.
He watched you inhale it, slow and steady, eager for the lightness that was flooding your senses. And just like that the room was already full of thick, swirling smoke, the air hazy around the soft glow of the lamp. Your head buzzed almost immediately.
Not dizzy â just⊠warmer.
Soft.
The edges of everything felt slightly blurred, like the world had been turned down a notch and wrapped in velvet. When you exhaled, the smoke drifted slowly between the two of you, curling lazily toward the ceiling. Jake leaned back into the couch, watching you with a slow grin. "Careful." He murmured. "You went in pretty confident for someone who said they've barely done this."
You coughed once still getting used to the feeling, waving a hand through the smoke, laughing a little breathlessly. "Okay, maybe I underestimated it."
"Just a little?" He teased.
You handed the blunt back, your fingers brushing his for a second longer than necessary. The contact felt strangely noticeable, like your skin had suddenly become aware of everything. Jake took another drag, shoulders sinking into the couch as he exhaled slowly. His eyes were half-lidded now, a faint redness spreading through them. He looked relaxed in a way that made everything about him seem slower, easier.
The music hummed quietly in the background.
Time started slipping. At some point you both stopped keeping track of how long youâd been sitting there.
The blunt had burned down to nothing in the ashtray, and the room smelled faintly sweet and smoky. The high had settled in completely now â heavy, warm, almost weightless.
You had shifted positions without even realizing it.
Now you were sitting sideways on the couch, your legs pulled up comfortably beneath you, one knee tucked under the other as you leaned into the cushions. Your hair had fallen loosely around your face, and every now and then you pushed it back while laughing. Jake sat beside you, one arm draped along the back of the couch, his posture relaxed and easy.
The two of you had drifted into the kind of random conversation that only happened when you were high. "âŠNo way." You said through a laugh, shaking your head. "You're telling me you actually tried to microwave ramen in a coffee maker?"
"It worked." Jake insisted lazily. You laughed again, the sound light and loose. "It absolutely did not work."
"It worked enough." He said, grinning. "You would be surprised what you can do when you're desperate and it's two in the morning." The laughter faded into a comfortable quiet. Jake huffed out a breath, a hand coming up to his hoodie collar, tugging at it. The air felt too suffocating and warm, the breeze from the open door not doing much. "It's hot in here..." He murmured to himself, hands already taking the grey thick fabric off him. He run a hand through his hair, taming it just a tab bit before he straightened the white shirt that he is left in.
Jake placed the hoodie neatly on the arm rest, feeling the sudden relief. You on the other hand were stuck in place, gaze following his every movement. Too lost. Too high. So fixed on his figure that the way his shirt went up exposing his lower abdomen as he took the hoodie off is left engraved. The way his hand ran through the messy hair, trying to subdue the disheveled strands made you almost evidently gulp.
Jake was attractive. That was no secret. From the way the older ladies in the neighborhood treated him, from the way younger kids always stop and stare at him a second too long before getting shy. Even older men never missed a chance to start a conversation with him, always trying to make sure he knew they had daughters who are single by the end of their conversations.
But he was always sweet, a little too kind and cute. Laughing everything off, nodding shyly and just simply being respectful. And that's what people liked about him. That's what made everyone adore him.
You on the other hand, did think so too. He was just every girls dream. Hot, handsome, living alone at just twenty-four, hardworking. Could you ask for something more, really? But the age. The age was something that really made you step back into your lane. The reality crushing down everytime you were stuck staring at him over your fence, images flashing through your mind.
Your family did tease you, all the way to your younger brother. Making jokes about you and him being together, how he is a great a catch. And it was annoying. It was agonizingly annoying hearing the overused plethoras of these words. You would only roll your eyes and just simply say he was too old for you. He could almost be your uncle. Really.
But still there was no denying. He was awfully, excruciatingly sexy.
Jake leaned forward, reaching toward the coffee table where a plate of cookies sat forgotten. His hand came into the warm light of the lamp as he grabbed one. You watched his fingers without realizing it.
Long fingers.
Veins running along the back of his hand and wrist. The movement was slow and unhurried as he brought the cookie up and took a bite. You blinked, gaze stuck to the way the silver bracelet hugged his wrist, dangling from his arm. Your brain felt like it lagged half a second behind what your eyes were seeing.
Jake chewed casually, completely unaware of the small spiral of thoughts that had suddenly started in your head. The low music flowed in the background, his head light and face smiley as he grabbed his phone from the table after it buzzed. A group chat spammed with random messages a she opened the chat eyes skimming over the unrelevant chats. He took another bite of the cookie, chewing lazily, his jaw feeling a little too heavy with each bite. Your eyes were still stuck to his face, his side profile as the bright phone screen illuminated his sharp but still soft features. He looked perfect.
But suddenly, he glanced at you, lidded eyes meeting yours just for a second before they were back on the phone. You almost evidently jolted at the sudden eye contact, the way he catches you staring but said nothing. You cleared your throat. "So... Is it hard to work from home?" A random question about his graphic designing. Just to ease the sudden tenseness you felt even if your body surrendered to the relaxation a long time ago.
He smiled, not looking up at you, fingers working over his keyboard as he typed a response to his friends. "Well actually no..." He answered, eyes still on the phone. "I get to manage my time on my own, clients are the only thing the company assigns me but yeah..." He glanced at you, taking the last bite of the cookie as he still typed away on the phone. Your eyes drifted all over him again â not just his hands this time, but the relaxed way he was leaning on his thighs, veiny forearms supporting him, the lazy curve of his smile, the faint redness in his eyes.
Everything about him looked softer. Slower.
Your curiosity bubbled up again, the same one that had been creeping around your thoughts for the past hour. Before you could overthink it, the question slipped out. "Jake?"
"Yeah?" He said, brushing crumbs from his fingers. You hesitated for a moment, suddenly aware of how random it might sound. "Are you⊠seeing someone?" He looked at you, not surprised just curious. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. His eyes lingered on your face a little longer than usual, flicking down your figure before he answered.
"Why?" He asked lightly. "You doing a background check on me?" You laughed nervously and shook your head. "No. I was just⊠wondering." Wondering because you never saw him bring any women over. Because the only people that ever visited him were his parents now and then and his group of friends.
His eyes locked onto yours, something dark and tempting behind them before he answered. "No. Not right now." His phone buzzed, eyes glued themselves to the screen again. "I broke up with my ex right before I moved here. Had some flings here and there but nothing serious." His voice was flat, too immersed into the small bright box in his hands. You nodded, more to yourself as you glanced onto the small table. You rubbed your calve up and down, the sudden quiet that took place was awkward. Before...
"What about you?"
His voice made you snap your head toward him. Jake finally locked his phone and set it down on the table. The small screen went dark as he leaned back into the couch, stretching one arm along the backrest. His attention shifted completely to you now, heavy-lidded eyes studying your face with a calm, curious focus. The sudden attention made your stomach tighten.
"Me?" You repeated quietly. "Yeah." He shrugged a little, relaxed. "You asked first." You looked down at your hands, suddenly very aware of them resting awkwardly on your knee. The high was still humming through your body, soft and warm, but now it made you feel strangely exposed under his gaze. "I'm⊠not seeing anyone either." You said.
Jake hummed softly, watching you. "No boyfriend?" You shook your head. "Not really." His eyebrow lifted slightly. "Not really?" You hesitated, feeling heat creep up your neck. "There was...someone I liked." You admitted, feeling like a little kid at the simple talk of childish crushes to a grown man. "In school. We still have some classes together." Jake tilted his head, watching you carefully now.
"But it wasn't anything serious." You added quickly. "We just talked a lot. Sat together sometimes. I thought maybe he liked me too butâŠ" You gave a small embarrassed shrug. "Nothing ever actually happened."
Jake's eyes stayed on you. "That's it?" He asked slowly. You nodded. "Yeah."
He leaned back further into the couch, hands resting on his thighs while he slammed down the leather. His gaze drifted down for a moment â over the way you were curled on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, the nervous motion of your fingers rubbing along your calf. "You're eighteen, right?" He asked.
"Yeah." A quiet breath left him. "Huh."
You glanced up, scanning his side profile as his head was leaned back onto the couch, tired and red eyes staring at the ceiling.
"What?" Your voice was quiet and unsure. Embarrased. He shook his head slightly, a faint, almost amused smile tugging at his mouth.
"Nothing." He said. "Just⊠surprising."
"Why?" You gulped, eyes unconsciously running over his hand in his lap, his spread thighs and the way the sweatpants hugged his pelvis. The bulge that was right there making you gulp, you thighs pressing slightly. Jake's eyes returned to yours, darker now in the dim light making your eyes flick up to his.
"I don't know." He said slowly. "Most people your age have a little more⊠going on."
Your cheeks warmed instantly.
"I guess I'm just⊠slow with that stuff." You murmured. He didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted over you again, slower this time â the high making his focus heavier, more lingering than he probably meant it to be. The way you were sitting curled up on the couch, your shorts shifting slightly over your thighs as you adjusted your legs. The nervous movement of your hands. The faint pink in your cheeks. You shifted under the attention without meaning to. Your knee moved slightly, your foot sliding against the cushion as if you were trying to get comfortable, but it only made you more aware of how closely he was watching.
Jake noticed. His jaw tightened just slightly before he looked back at your face. There was something very unguarded about you.
He cleared his throat lightly. "Well." He said, voice casual again. "You're eighteen. That's the perfect age to enjoy it."
"Enjoy what?" You asked, confused.
"Life." He said simply. "Meeting people. Dating. Figuring out what you like." His eyes flicked back to your face, then down briefly again before returning. "You should enjoy that stage." You shifted slightly on the couch, suddenly very aware of how you were sitting and the way his eyes went over your body. And you hated the way the unfamiliar warmth started burning in the low of your stomach.
"I guess." You said quietly. Unsure. Eyes
Jake watched you for another moment, something thoughtful settling in his expression. He raised his head from the cozy couch. "Can I ask you something?" He said. Your shoulders tensed slightly, eyes flicking to his intimidating gaze. You nodded, not finding the courage to use your words since the high was at its peak, hitting your head with a force so invisible but still present. Your head felt heavy, eyes were burning red and lidded. Your limbs felt heavy, everything seemed to turn up a notch. His presence seemed to overwhelm you more, the masculine aura making you trace his figure shamelessly.
His voice stayed casual, but his eyes stayed fixed on you. "Have you ever⊠done anything with someone?" The question hung in the air.Your brain understood what he meant almost instantly, rimmed red eyes moving up to his own as you licked your lips.
"No." You said quickly. Jake blinked. "No?"
You shook your head as you let it fall on the couch, eyes still stuck to his.
"No."
He leaned back slightly, studying you more carefully now and still trying to process everything. "You mean⊠like nothing?" He asked. You shifted again, embarrassment evaporating the more the weed in your system flowed. "I mean⊠no." You said quietly. "Not really."
For a moment he just stared at you. His eyes flicked over you again â slower this time. Not in an obvious way, but enough that the high made him notice things he hadn't earlier. The way your neck streched as you gazed at him, the way you kept carresing your calf, eyes a little too lost on him.
He never failed to noticed your eyes flicking down to his sweats, where the bulge of his soft cock portruded. It made him shift his hips against the couch, the sudden rush of blood to his pelvis alarming him. He teared his gaze from you, quickly dancing around the small table. "That's okay. You are still young, there's time for everything even if you take it slow."
He added, trying to ease the tension that seemed to suffocate the air. He tried to erase the image of you, in ways he should never think of. Not when you are that younger than him, still in high school. Not when you are the daughter of the neighbors right next door.
But fuck, did actually exactly those things get him going.
He could still feel your eyes on him as he reached forward, grabbing the glass of water before he took a sip. He needed to cool off. Immediately. His cock threatening to evidently form a tent inside his briefs. The cold water did almost nothing.
The room still felt thick â smoke hanging lazily in the warm air, music humming quietly from somewhere behind you both. His pulse hadn't slowed either. Jake set the glass down again and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake the thoughts out of his head.
You were still watching him.
Curled into the couch with your legs tucked under you, head tilted slightly, eyes heavy and red-rimmed from the high. The way you looked at him now wasn't the same as earlier. There was curiosity there, yes â but something else too. Something softer. Bolder.
It made his stomach tighten.
Your fingers traced slowly along your calf again, absentminded, and the movement pulled his eyes down before he could stop himself. You noticed that too. A quiet little spark lit in your chest. The weed had melted most of your nervousness away, leaving behind something warm and daring that you normally wouldn't let yourself feel.
"You said I should enjoy being eighteen." You said softly. Jake glanced up at you again.
"Yeah..." He said cautiously and your head tilted slightly. "What if I want to start doing that now?"
The question made him pause. His eyes searched your face like he was trying to figure out if you even realized what you were implying. His elbows dug harder into his knees, eyes stuck on you. You shifted closer on the couch without really thinking about it.
The cushion dipped slightly between you.Your gaze dropped for a moment, then slowly lifted again, tracing his face. His jaw, his mouth, the faint tension in his shoulders. "You look different when you're high." You said quietly. "Oh yeah?" Jake asked, eyebrow raising. You hummed in response, the sound a little too low and sensual. "Your eyes get heavier."
He smirked faintly. "That's the weed."
"And you look at me more." You added. That made him go still. The silence stretched between you again. Then, almost without thinking, you leaned forward slightly, just enough to close some of the space between you.
Jake's breath slowed.
"You shouldn't be doing this." He said quietly, still leaned onto his knees, eyes flicking to your mouth and knees that were on the edge of the couch. But he didn't move away. Your heart was beating so loudly you were sure he could hear it. But the warmth of the high and the pull of his gaze made it impossible to back down now. "Doing what?" Ypu whispered. Jake looked at you like he already knew exactly where this was going. Your eyes flicked to his mouth, then back to his eyes. The moment stretched.
One second. Two.
Your courage wavered for just a moment â but then you leaned forward the rest of the way and pressed your lips softly against his. It was clumsy, gentle. And very, very brief.
When you pulled back, your face was flushed but your eyes were still on him. For a second Jake didn't move at all. Then he exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. "Y/N..." He muttered under his breath. His eyes returned to yours again, darker now.
"You just said you've never done anything with anyone..." He said. Your shoulders lifted slightly in a shy little shrug. "I haven't." A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. "Until now."
Jake stared at you. Something about the way you said it, innocent but bold at the same time, made the tension in the room snap tighter instead of breaking. You leaned a little closer again, your knee brushing his thigh this time, placing a hand on his shoulder. Jake's eyes glanced down your bare legs, shorts lost under the shirt.
Fuck it.
He pressed his lips against yours,head tilting as he let out a low moan. You were taken aback, the sudden harshness of his lips making you panic for a second.
You didn't know how to kiss.
"Relax, let me take the lead and just copy me." He pulled back just enough to speak before his lips were again onto yours. His hand found your waist, slowing down his lips and letting your get used to the feel. "Just like that." He pulled back again, breath brushing your wet lips before you pressed them again. Jakes back met the cushion of the couchrest, adjusting his hips against the sofa. You were on your knees kissing him eagerly as you got your pace on. The smacks and smooches of your hungry mouth were fueling. You moaned against his mouth, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable.
Jake still had you by his side, one hand around your waist as he angled his head up, chin tipping to meet your mouth that hovered over his. Your kisses were clumsy but eager now, lips soft and warm against his. Each time you leaned down, trying to follow the rhythm he had shown you moments ago, Jake answered with a slower, deeper kiss that made your stomach tighten. The quiet sounds of it â soft breaths, the brush of lips, the faint smacks as you tried to keep up filled the small space between you.
You pulled back just enough to breathe, chest rising quickly, your lips slightly swollen and damp. Jake's hand tightened a little at your waist as he looked up at you. His eyes lingered on your face first â the flush spreading across your cheeks, the way your lips stayed parted as you caught your breath â before they drifted lower for a second, taking in the way you were kneeling beside him on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you. "EasyâŠ" He murmured, voice low and rough, though he didn't push you away.
His thumb brushed slowly along your side through the thin fabric of your shirt, and the simple touch made you shiver. Jake noticed the reaction immediately. His gaze sharpened slightly, a darker curiosity settling in as he leaned his head back against the couch cushion, still looking up at you. "You're really new to this, aren't you?" He said quietly, his hot breath brushing your face. You hesitated for a moment, fingers still curled loosely into the fabric of his shirt, then nodded. The admission made your cheeks warm again, but the haze of the high softened the embarrassment, leaving only a nervous flutter in your chest.
Jake let out a slow breath through his nose. His eyes dropped briefly, following the line of your legs, the way the oversized shirt you wore had shifted while you moved, barely hiding the shorts underneath. When his gaze lifted again, it settled back on your face.
"Have you ever touched yourself?" He asked quietly, voice dark and sharp. The question sent a sudden wave of heat through you. Your eyes dropped almost instantly, landing somewhere near the collar of his shirt. You shook your head slowly, the movement small and shy.
"No." You murmured. Jake went very still beneath you. For a moment he simply stared, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and disbelief. Then he leaned his head back against the couch and dragged a hand slowly down his face.
"FuckâŠ" He muttered under his breath, his cock throbbing violently with each passing second. When his hand fell away, he looked at you again â longer this time, his gaze lingering over your flushed face, the way you were still kneeling beside him, your hand resting uncertainly on his shoulder as he held your waist.
"You're serious." He said quietly, voice strained as if he is afraid what your honest answer would do him. Because he was certain you weren't lying.
You nodded again, glancing down at your hands as they fidgeted lightly with the fabric of his shirt. And his body experienced a sudden rush of adrenaline, his shoulders almost evidently shuddered under your hand as he closed his eyes. "I just⊠never really thought about it." You admitted softly.
Jake opened his heavy red eyes staring at you for a moment, jaw tightening just slightly. Something about the way you said it, so honest and unaware, made him exhale slowly. He looked divine. Pretty even. His dark slightly longer hair falling over his eyes. His red cheeks and plump swollen lips. It made you bite your lip. And your eyes flicked down. Down to his tent that hardened with every passing minute he spent by your side.
"GodâŠ" He murmured again, almost to himself when he captured everything. And he crashed your lips again, pulling you so hard you feel onto his side, one hand clutching his shoulder and the other fisting the shirt at his chest. He moaned against you, your lips a drug that he couldnt get enough off. And the way you were struggling to catch up with him made his hips raise, thrusting into the air from the desperation.
"Take your shorts and panties off. Now." He sternly spoke against your lips. "And sit back and spread your legs for me." You nodded, trying to collect yourself from his savage kisses just a second ago. Quickly you straightened yourself, hands hastily unzipping your shorts before pulling it down your legs together with your underwear. Jake watched every move, the way the short glided down your legs and you threw it down, the way you moved back, pushing yourself away before you slowly but certainly spread your legs.
And Jake's throat constricted, a sharp inhale as he took in your form.
You were leaned back, supporting yourself by your arms against the couch, legs bent at your knees as you shyly pulled them apart. Jake's eyes sucked everything in but saw the little hesitation. "Don't be shy..." He said softly, eyes flicking up to yours giving you a nod, a connection you needed in this moment.
The mere look of his puppy eyes, giving you reassurance was enough. And you spread them further, knees closer to you, feet planting onto the cushion. He was stunned, another sharp inhale followed. His eyes danced over your thighs before it reached the center. His gaze went over your pubic hair, over your drooling lips that spilled the sticky essence onto the hairy lips.
His dick twitched.
"Shit." He muttered to himself, lips slightly parting as he let his head back onto the couch. You stood there, spread open for his eyes, observing the way he ate you with his stare. The way his chest moved deeper, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped. Jake's hand moved down, resting onto his bulge, palm feeling the heaviness and the sensitivity over the fabric. But he just let it rest there, eyes glued to your drooling pussy and the sticky bush.
Already this wet, just from kissing. Of course you are.
Fucking virgin.
"Jake..." You called out to him, eyes searching for his. His eyes flicked up to yours. The worried expression on your face had him inhaling. "Touch yourself." He spoke firmly.
"IâI don't knoâ"
"Bring your fingers over to your lips." He cut you off, hungry and rough. His chest heavied, following your unsure moves. You hesitantly brought your hand down, fingers hovering uncertainly in the air for a moment before you slowly followed his instruction. "Find your clit." His voice vibrated in the tight air, your eyes moved down to your mound, the hair rough against your fingertips as you slid them between your folds. Arousal coated them right away, the warmth of your folds swallowing the fingertips too much. You hissed at the new feeling.
"Higher..." You moved them back, higher, and when you found the small bud you â pressed it. A moan escaped you, eyes going tight shut at the new overwhelming sensation. Jake didn't look away.
His eyes followed every small movement you made, heavy and fixed on you as if he didn't want to miss a single second of it. The earlier teasing had faded from his face, replaced with something more focused â something darker and intent. The hand resting over the front of his sweats stayed there, fingers flexing slightly against the fabric as he watched. "That's it... Rub it in circles. Slow." He breathes out, his senses narrowing down to just feeling and the image of you spread by his side.
Your breathing had already grown shallow, chest rising and falling quicker than before as the warmth between your legs pulsed in quiet waves. Your fingers moved cautiously, almost timidly at first, a pant left your parted lips. You glanced up at him again, searching his face for reassurance. His gaze, immediately lifted to meet yours, and the intensity of it made your stomach twist.
"That's it." He said softly, nodding once. "Just⊠like that."
The simple encouragement steadied you. Your shoulders relaxed a fraction, though your cheeks were still flushed and your breathing uneven. You dragged your finger over the pulsing bud with steady rhythm, the arousal burning tight. You watched the way your arousal spread the more you rubbed, coating your hair, feeling it ooze out of your entrance sliding down your asscheeks and right onto the Jake's couch. You were so wet.
The feeling was strange. Strange but taunting, pulling your fingers to move on their own as you slightly sped up. A moan escaped you, the ticklish pleasure shooting up your spine as you teased yourself.
The moment felt strangely suspended â the low music somewhere behind you, the lingering haze in the room, and Jake watching you like nothing else existed.
He leaned his head back slightly against the couch again, eyes never leaving you. A quiet curse slipped under his breath when you shifted your legs a little wider without thinking, trying to follow the feeling growing in your body. He couldnât contain himself anymore, his hand dipped into the waistbands, entering the confiments of his boxers. His raging cock already painfully hard. Throbbing and begging for a touch, for the fist of his hand.
His fingers wrapped around himself, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. "You see?" He murmured. "You're already figuring it out, doll."
The nickname rolled of his tongue so easily and so usual for him. But for you â it sent you shuddering. Body reacting on its own as your hole clenched around nothing. His gaze catches that, his hand already moving up and down his pulsing length, coating it with his warm precum. "Am I doing it right?" You asked quietly, voice breathy and needy as your fingers kept their pace, rubbing your clit desperately.
Jake let out a slow breath through his nose, his jaw tightening for a moment before he answered, hand sqeezing his tip for a brief moment. So hungry for praise aren't you. "So so right sweetie. Fuckâ" His voice broke off into a strained breath as he watched you. The sight by him had something dark flashing through his eyes, his chest rising deeper as watched the way your folds engulfed your fingertips, the way your arousal stuck to your hair.
Your fingers kept moving, the strange but growing warmth between your legs making you shift on the couch, hips chasing your own fingers. Another small sound escaped you, half surprise, half something deeper you didn't quite understand yet. The feeling was different now â sharper, more insistent.
Jake watched the change in your expression immediately. You are pushing yourself close to the orgasm.His hand stilled for a moment before moving again, slower now, gliding deliberately against his cock, eyes locked on your face as if he were reading every reaction.
"You feel that?" He asked quietly, hand sticky and slimy as it moved under his briefs.
You nodded quickly, breath hitching and eyes moving over to his sweats. The evident move of his hand against his length made you grind your hips again.
"It's⊠weird." You admitted softly, barely uttering it out as your fingers slowed down again. "But⊠good."
He huffed out a faint laugh under his breath, shaking his head slightly. "Yeah..." His lidded eyes flicked down to the mess you made. Your hand faltered for a moment, your brows knitting together as you tried to understand the new sensations building. Jake noticed instantly. "Stop."
You didn't, you closed your eyes, a moan slipping. "I-I can't! Ah..." You cried out, fingers putting more pressure with each tight circle. "I said stop." He repeated, and this time you did. With a whine you made your fingers stop. Your felt the arousal all over your hand, sticky and messy as it covered your fingers. New fluid and texture making you slightly spread them, feeling the arousal stretch and snap.
You panted, a thin layer of sweat covering your skin. Jake's hand moved slowly up and down his cock prolonging the pleasure. Here and now delivering a squeeze to his tip that made him hiss and gasp. "Put a finger inside." He commanded sternly. And you did. Your middle finger dug into your puffy folds, making you gasp as you moved it down. Lower. Until you felt the dip of your entrance under the fingertip. You gulped, head dizzy and already light from all the smoke in the room. Your heat burned with desire, and when hesitation rose in you, fear, you still pushed the finger.
You groaned at the sudden stretch, pushing until the first knuckle. Just first. It glided with ease. But all of a sudden it felt like your walls did not want to let you move deeper. You moaned, shallowly thrusting nonstop. At an attempt to relax, to push through. But you just couldn't. Was it the tense walls, or perhaps the unconscious that was anxious about registering the new experience.
"Jakeâ" You tried again to push further. It hurt. "Jake I can't..." You were a moaning mess, thrusting barely the tip of your finger inside your pulsing heat. Your hips raised, tried to swallow your finger but still nothing. Jake was too busy fucking his fist slowly and sensually, moans escaping his parted lips as he was in his own world, eyes stuck to the way you tried to fuck your hand.
"You can't what?" He spoke low and strained. Voice whiny as he felt his mess spread and spread under the fabric as he was tugging at his length. "IâI need you!" You whined out, the tip of your finger teasing your clenched hole with shallow thrusts. Your thighs quievered, head tipping back as you couldn't take it â the overwhelming want to feel something against your walls, everything but your own fingers.
For a moment Jake just stared at you. Then he cursed quietly under his breath, dragging his free hand over his face before leaning his head against the couch, facing the ceiling. "JesusâŠ" His gaze swept over you again, slower this time, heavier, stopping a second longer on your attempts to push the finger inside. "You're going to drive me insane." He muttered, hand stopping all the movement on his cock but is resting at the base. Knowing he would need it again.
You shifted uncertainly under his stare, clearly not sure what he wanted from you, lips parted as the shallow thrusts slowed down. Jake watched you struggle for another second before he finally gestured sharply with his hand.
"Come here."
The command made your head snap up. You moved without thinking, sliding across the couch toward him until you were within reach again, your breathing still uneven. You let your arms support you, leaning back against them as your legs hesitated to spread, not knowing what to do. His free hand grazed your calf. "Spread them, princess."
You almost moaned out at the nickname, your jaw going slack as you spread your legs again eyes scanning him hungrily. One ended up on his knee, as the other was tucked right by his side and the couch. "Shirt off." Your hands automatically grabbed the hem of your baggy old shirt, pulling it over your head as you threw it on the floor, leaving you in your bra.
Jake's eyes scanned your naked upper body. Eyes nestling onto your breasts. Breasts covered by your bra. He bit his lip, eyes traveling all over you decollete as his hand went over your pulsing pussy and up your stomach. Fingers grazing the hot skin before he cupped one of your breasts. You stared at his expressions, noting down every slight change. His brows furrowed, palm sqeezing it harshly and roughly making you gasp. Your chest pushing out, arching into the touch. He kneaded it, eyes stuck to the flesh that threatened to spill from the firm cup. "Yes, fuck..." He moaned under his breath, hand in his underwear sqeezing the base of his cock, imaging the way it would feel if he fucked your tits. The warm, squishy flesh engulfing his leaking dick, letting it glide all over your chest.
He let out a hiss after one more squeeze around his girth. You let out a whine, hips raising from the couch, in search of something. Jake's eyes were still fixed on your chest as he kneaded until his fingers hooked into the bra cup â pulling it down and letting your tit spill out.
You moaned, eyes moving down to look at your naked exposed breast. Nipple stood hard and erect, sensitive to the air itself. Jake's hand was quick to flick it with his thumb, balancing it over the peak as he teased it. "Ahâyes please!" You moaned out, eyes never leaving the way he rolled your sensitive bud.
Jake finally let go of your nipple, hand moving over to his lips eyes stuck to yours. And he let his mouth engulfed two of his long digits. He sucked them delightfully, tongue going over them as he hollowed his cheeks, thrusting them in and out. Your breath hitched, muscles already trembling and aching. He coated them expertly with his spit, pulling them out and letting them glide out from his plump lips. They glistened under the lights. He spat on them, making sure they are wet and warm before he finally lowered them between your legs. To your most sensitive skin.
You felt the back of his middle finger caress your puffy slit, going up and down collecting the arousal that never seemed to stop coming. You bucked into his hand, a sharp inhale followed. Jake's eyes danced over your pulsing and hairy heat, and it made him hiss. Especially when he grazed your rough hairs, the sudden contrast to your soft and sensitive folds that drooled all over his finger.
"You are so pretty, sweetheart." He murmured, peering down at your gaping entrance before his digit prodded at it. You held your breath, stomach tightening as you felt his bigger finger enter you slowly. "Relax..." He said softly again, eyes searching for yours before he continued to push further against your walls. He felt you clamp down on him, sucking him in but still quite tensed. He pulled back slightly before thrusting repeatedly into your sopping hole, trying to relax you â to get you used to the feeling.
And you gasped. When you felt him thrust into you, wetness still sipping out of you like a fucking faucet, you tipped your head back. Jake pushed in further, feeling you pull him in with each move of his. The way he filled you up made you buck into his hand, urging him to push it all the way in. And he did. He pushed his finger all the way and you gasped. The sudden feeling new and extraordinary. But so good. He started by steadily stretching you with just one digit, eyes stuck to the way you ruined his hand with your juices.
"So tight..."
Your breath came out in short bursts now, your body reacting faster than your mind could keep up. Jake watched every little reaction like it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. His jaw tightened slightly, eyes dark as they moved over your face â flushed cheeks, parted lips, the way you struggled to steady your breathing.
His hand moved again, gliding against his heavy cock in rhythm with the thrusts of his digit into you. Imagining. Imagining the way you would later clamp around his thick cock, take it like a good little girl, bent over this couch right here. He let out a whimper, followed by a moan as he slowly sped up both of his hands.
Your fingers tightened against the couch cushion beside you as you tried to catch your breath. The warmth in your body kept building, spreading through your chest and down your spine in slow waves. A string of gradually louder moans left you, hips bucking into his hand. "JâJake" You stuttered out, head heavy and body burning up. Everything seemed to narrow down to him and him only.
"You feel that, don't you?" He asked breathing heavy. Your lidded eyes found his heavy ones nodding quickly, not being able to form a proper sentence as you pressed your lips shut tight. Jake's eyes were fast back on the way you took him. You squeezed his finger, eyes moving to the way he was stroking himself under the material and you whined, the foot that was on his knee slightly nudging him.
A chuckle left him, almost too whiny before he muttered. "Yeah... I can tell." His gaze lifted back to your face, studying the way your eyes fluttered shut for a second before opening again. Then he pressed another finger against you entrance, stretching you wider as it glided in with ease. You moaned, arms at the back trembling as he fucked you with his fingers.
"Ahâ fuck! "
His thumb pressed against your puffy clit and it seemed like you were in heaven. Your eyes dropped down to the way he split you with his fingers, the way his thumb pressed against your throbbing clit. Your pubic hair was already drenched, a mess that collected all the filthy fluid as he started rubbing your clit, smearing the wetness. All of a sudden a weird feeling started forming in the far pit of your pelvis. The strange pressure twisted deeper in your stomach, coiling tighter and tighter with every movement of his hand.
Your breathing broke into short, uneven pulls as the feeling built too fast, too intense. Your head shook weakly.
"Jakeâ waitâ" Your voice cracked, breath catching in your throat. Panic flickered across your face as the pressure surged again, stronger this time, almost unbearable. "Iâ I think I'mâ I'm gonnaâ" Jake felt your walls tense, your musles on fire. His slanted eyes suddenly sharpened, his fist abandoned his cock as his attention was fully on you.
You foot against his knee cramped, the other tight by his side sent small tremors that could be felt. Your knees pulled in slightly, threatening to pull your legs together. "I think I'm gonna pee." You blurted out breathlessly, embarrassment rushing into your face as your hips tried to retreat from his merciless hand. "Stopâ Jake, stopâ"
He didn't. If anything, he sat up straight, back detached form the couch as his eyes stuck to your sensitive core. The painful bulge forgotten for now as his other hand grabbed your ankle of the foot that was on his knee , holding you. His fingers sped up furiously, pistoning into you. One of your hands grabbed his wrist pushing at it, desperation creeping into your voice as the pressure wound even tighter.
"Jakeâ I'm seriousâ I can'tâ" Jake's eyes lifted from between your legs to your face, dark and sharp, breathing rough through parted lips. A low, almost disbelieving laugh slipped out of him. "You are not gonna pee." He said firmly. You shook your head quickly, eyes wide and pleading.
"I amâ I swear I amâ"
"No." His tone sharpened, cutting through your panic. Your hips tried to pull away again, but his other hand hooked under your thigh, holding you in place.
"You're not." He repeated, slower this time, breath heavy. "You're about to cum."
Your breath stuttered, vision blurring, eyes stinging as his fingers curled inside of you making them roll to the back of your head. Sound that your cunt and his fingers made filled the suffocating room. You panted and moaned, Jake holding you closer than ever as his hand played with your walls, stretching and ruining your insides.
The feeling surged again â overwhelming now, too big to contain â and you gasped, grabbing his forearm, nails digging hard.
"Jake pleaseâ"
But he didn't stop. His pace didn't slow. If anything, it grew more deliberate, more certain, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. His eyes were focused, dark as they stuck to the way your pussy ate his fingers up, sucked them in as if inviting him. His dark hair fell over his eyes, jaw tight as he kept his pace. He collected a glob of spit, heavy against his tongue before he spat down, filthy and gross, right onto your cunt.
Your body betrayed you completely. Your back arched, thighs trembling violently as the pressure climbed higher and higher, your mind scrambling to understand what was happening. Everything seemed to blur, the only thing you could comprehend was the way Jake fingered you, the earthy scent that clung into the air and his own cologne that's seemed to be everywhere around you, on him, on his furniture. Everywhere.
"I can'tâ I can'tâ" You whimpered, voice breaking, eyes going tight shut tears pricking at the corners.
Jake leaned closer, his voice low and rough and right in you face, breath brushing your lips. "Yes you can." Your whole body tensed.
"Just let it happen."
You shook your head weakly, panic and pleasure tangling together until you couldn't separate them anymore. "Jakeâ!"
The pressure snapped. Your voice dissolved into a broken cry as the wave finally crashed through you, your entire body jerking as the sensation ripped through your stomach and down your spine. Your hand clutched at his arm while your hips trembled uncontrollably, the intensity stealing the breath straight from your lungs.
Jake swore under his breath, watching you unravel in front of him, his grip tightening slightly as he guided you through it, forearm flexing as he slip your walls repeatedly. "That's it." He murmured, voice rough with satisfaction. "There you go." Your body kept shaking long after the first rush passed, smaller tremors still rolling through you while your head fell back, breath coming in soft, stunned gasps.
For a moment you couldn't even speak.
Jake finally slowed his digits, watching the way your chest rose and fell, the way your fingers still clung weakly to his arm. He slowly pulled out. His digits were drenched. He watched the way your arousal streched, a string of it snapping, like not wanting him to pull away. You hissed at the emptiness that followed. Your slit throbbing with aftershocks and waves of fire as you catches your breath.
Jake let go of your thigh, setting your leg over his lap, enchanted by the way your wetness clung to his fingers, spreading them and watching it stretch. He moaned, voice needy and whiny as he brought them to his lips and sucked it off. He closed his eyes in delight, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. The sight of his moaning around his fingers, made your nervous system wake up again. The pulse speeding up again as the ache between your spread legs grew heavier.
You shifted, legs tucked beneath you and hand on his chest pushing him back against the couch. You were breathing hard, eyes going over his leaned figure as you scanned his rock hard bulge. Jake was too busy sucking off your juices, enjoying it a little too much before he pulled them out of his mouth the second your shaky hands were on his waistband, pulling it down and over his cock. Jake turned his head to look at you, the way you tucked your hair behind your ears, ready to bend down, knees brushing his side as they tremored from the orgasm.
He let his hand down on his thigh, rating it there as he adjusted himself on the cozy couch, thighs spreading and hips lowering.
You were stunned. The wet stain on the from of his underwear was massive, the heavy boner imprinting onto the ruined material. Before he could utter a word you pulled his boxers too, letting his hard cock free. He moaned at the sudden air that hit his pulsing head, eyes closing in brief pleasure.
He stood tall, veiny and painfully hard. His tip raging with blood, red and oozing precum. The veins run down its length, right down to the base and you gulped. "Do you know what to do with it?" His low and needy voice made your eyes flick to his, your hands already collecting your hair and pushing it to the side, so he could have a good view. You shook your head but still was lowering down. Jake couldn't look away. The moment your lips brushed the side of his head, leaving a light kiss onto it he took a sharp breath. You let the tip of your tongue out, poking him experimentally and he shuddered. His hand shot down, grabbing his base as he held it for you. "Lick the tip." He let out as his voice trailed off into a breathy moan. "Ah shit... Just like that."
You kitty locked his tip, the wet and warm muscle feeling his heated and tense head. The fluid was salty, tangy. You moaned at the taste tongue moving from the middle of his veiny cock up to the sensitive tip. Jakeâs breath hitched when you looked up at him like that.
For a second he just watched you â chest rising and falling slowly, eyes dark and half-lidded, the tension in his jaw tightening as if he was trying to hold himself together. The room felt warmer than before, the air thick with that quiet, buzzing tension that had been building between you all night.
Your lips brushed him again in a soft, testing motion.
Jake swore under his breath.
His hand slid into your hair, not rough, but firm enough to make you look back up at him. His thumb brushed along your cheek, eyes roaming over your flushed face, the parted lips, the nervous determination in your gaze. You glanced up at him, lips slick, eyes wide and pupils blown. It made him curse under his breath, the simple brush of your breath against his sensitive flesh made his muscles tense. "I have to taste you, fuck â"
His fingers flexed around your strands, pulling you harshly with the strength so unexpected. Your lips collided in a messy kiss, noses bumping as he savored you. The saltines on your lips from him, the swollen, warm flesh moving against his experienced mouth trying to catch up and seem confident.
But fuck, did he actually enjoy the exact inexperience you tried so hard to conceal.
It made him groan against your clumsy lips, your hand fisting the front of his shirt as his other hand carresed the back of your thighs, fingers digging into the skin as he dragged the leg over his lap. Finally, his neck untensed, kissing you mercilessly as you settled on his lap, each knee on the side of his thighs. Your hands found their place on his shoulders, feeling the cotton material of his shirt under your fingertips. His grip in your hair faltered, both hands moving down to your thighs, carresinh the burning skin and feeling the goosebumps pricking his hyperaware touch.
Jake kissed you messily, tongue prodding at your parted and tired lips, carresing your slow warm muscle as you struggled to get into a rhythm with his expert moves. You moaned in annoyance and neediness, thighs quivering under his palms, the innerside trickling with your wetness, the air hitting your pulsing core.
Jake pulled back slightly, eyes opening just merrily. You chased his lips, a smirk on his own as he pulled back teasingly making you whine. He squeezed your bare hips, eyes going down your chest.
And it stayed stuck there.
He kneaded your hips, his teeth already catching his bottom lip. His gaze was stuck to the way your nipple still stood erect, the bra cup pushing your flesh up as it dug under it. He dug his head lower, eyes flicking up to you before his mouth engulfed your breast. You gasped at the unfamiliar warmth around your areola, your chest jutting out at instinct.
Jake's hard lenght rested low on his abdomen, hard and pulsing against his shirt, right between you two. Jake's tongue circled your nipple, flicking it rapidly with his tongue before sucking on it again.
Your eyes never left the way he assaulted your sensitive peak, pants leaving your mouth, fingers cramping against his shoulders. His saliva coated your bare breasts, his tongue gliding against it, teasing the bud as he balanced the tip of his tongue on it. His eyes closed in delight, his other hand coming up to unclip the bra on your back. And he did it at the first try, the pressure around your ribcage and chest releasing as he pulled it off of you, mouth attached to your swollen tit as he threw it over his shoulder. He moaned, hand coming up to massage the other one, rolling your nipple between his slender fingers.
"Fuck doll..." He pulled away just merilly to take in the full picture of your tits at his mercy. Swollen. Begging to be sucked. His cock twitched, the small white pearl trickling down his lenght, drooling at the sight before him. He grasped both of your tits, pressing them together and watching the flesh collide. His tongue switching from one to the other, teasingly flicking and carresing. You could not utter a word, just silently staring in awe at the way he handled your tender body. Gasps and moan escaping you at the sinful actions you never thought about before, never knew would make your pussy throb so violently.
You shivered in his hold, hips moving helplessly against air â just searching for some minimal friction. "Could lick these tits for hours shitâ" He left a slow kiss on each of your nipples, lips lingering for a second longer than necessary, as if savoring the way your body reacted to him. Your breath kept hitching in uneven pulls, chest rising and falling faster the longer he watched you unravel.
Jake leaned back just enough to take you in again.
Your bra was gone, tossed somewhere behind the couch, your chest flushed and sensitive under the warm light of the room. His hands were still wrapped around your tits, thumbs brushing slowly over your peaks like he couldn't quite stop touching you.
Your hips shifted again without meaning to, that restless desperation returning the moment he stopped paying direct attention to the heat building lower in your body. Jake noticed immediately. His eyes flicked downward, catching the movement. A quiet, amused huff escaped him. "Getting needy, huh?" He murmured.
Your cheeks flushed, but you didn't deny it this time. The high still floating through your body made it hard to hide anything â every sensation louder, every emotion closer to the surface. "JakeâŠ" You breathed softly.
The sound of his name like that made his jaw tighten for a second. He leaned forward again, pressing another slow kiss against your chest before lifting his gaze back to yours. His eyes were glassy from the high, half-lidded and heavy, but the hunger in them hadn't faded at all.
"If I keep going like this." He muttered quietly, "I'm not gonna stop."
Your stomach flipped.
You didn't move away. Jake studied your face for a second longer, watching the way your lips parted slightly, the way you looked at him like you were waiting for whatever he decided to do next. That was all the answer he needed. A crooked smile tugged at his mouth, eyes flicking down to your hips, to the soft curls tempting him just inches away from his leaking cock. He bit his lip hard enough that his jaw flexed.
"Fuck, sweetie⊠I have to taste you. Now."
The words came out rough, almost desperate. The composure he'd been holding onto all night was cracking. The smoke in the room still present and still getting to the both of you. Before you could even process it, his hands were already on you.
Jake's grip slid around your hips, firm and impatient as he pulled you toward him. The sudden movement made you gasp, your hands instinctively landing on his shoulders for balance as the couch dipped beneath the two of you.
"Bout to rock your world ." He muttered, voice low and breathy, almost as a promise to himself. You gulped at his words, hands gripping onto him. There was nothing hesitant about the way he moved now. His hands guided you with a certainty that made your stomach twist, shifting you across the cushions until your bodies tangled together, you on top of his body as he layed on the couch.
You blinked, a nervous lump catching in your throat when you realized what he was doing. He pulled you in a brief deep kiss, you hands came up by his head supporting your weight. The sudden closeness made you gulp, your tits pressed against his chest, his heavy and wet cock against your stomach, your pussy drooling at just the simple feel of it. When he pulled back, his breathing was heavier now, chest rising and falling under you, hands moving form your waist to your ass, grasping and squeezing it as you moved against him from the strength. Your damp bush moved up his cock, the roughness of your hair made him hiss, eyes never leaving yours.
"Fuck⊠feel that? His voice dropped, rougher now, feeling your wet bush rub against him, feeling your folds drool as you went still ove him, letting him handle you." Soaked already.â He exhales through his teeth, eyes dark. "You've got no idea what you're doing to me, dont you?" Jake's grip on your hips tightened suddenly, pulling you closer against him. His eyes dragged slowly down your body before flicking back up to your face, darker now, breath heavier. His hand slid down your thigh, guiding you with a firm squeeze. "Move up a little."
You hesitated for half a second, nerves fluttering in your chest, but the way his fingers pressed insistently at your hips made you obey. You shifted on your knees and palms over him, your breath catching when his gaze followed every inch of the movement.
"Good girl." He muttered hoarsely. His hand slid to the back of your thigh, urging you higher. "C'mon⊠Get over me... Turn around first." He instructed quietly. You did, a little clumsily, trying not to overthink the way his eyes followed every movement. "Knees by my head, face my feet."
When you shifted again he helped position you, steady hands settling you where he wanted you. You tried to ignore the nervous flutter in your chest, awareness of his eyes over your most intimate part. Ignoring the way his hard leaking cock that you knew nothing about was right in front of your face.
"There you go." He murmured, eyes still going over your figure. Your hair slid over your shoulder as you glanced back at him nervously. Jake's gaze moved slowly over you, heat flickering through his expression as his eyes finally stopped on your heat. Your dripping and pulsing heat, damp hairs sticking to your lips due to the slimy arousal. One hand slid along your thigh, the other steady at your waist as he nudged you into place.
"Babydoll, fuuuck..." He whimpered, throwing his head back slightly against the cushion before raising it again. Your breathing had already started picking up again, chest rising and falling faster as he adjusted you more, the closeness between you suddenly overwhelming. The high still humming in your body made everything feel heavier â his hands warmer, the air thicker, your thoughts slower.
Jake exhaled sharply when you finally settled where he wanted you. "Yeah." He muttered under his breath. His fingers tightened slightly at your hips, pulling you just a little closer. "Going to eat you so good..."
You could feel the tension in him now, the way his body seemed restless with need. Even through the haze clouding his eyes, the hunger there was unmistakable.
Your stomach fluttered.
His hand slid slowly up your side, fingers brushing along your ribs before settling at your waist again. For a second he just looked at you â really looked â eyes moving over your flushed skin, your messy hair, the way your lips stayed slightly parted from your uneven breathing as you gazed at him over your bare shoulder.
"God." He muttered quietly.
Then he leaned down to your core, voice dropping low again as you could not see him anymore. "Use that pretty mouth too, would you, hm?"
And for the first time he let his tongue move all the way from your clit and up to your entrance. You shuddered at the new feeling, the tight muscle of his going right between your untouched folds, separating them so suddenly and deliberately. He hummed in delight, the feel of your slickness against his tongue and the contrast of your rough curls sent him going crazy. "Fuck..." He muttered, tongue back on you, circling your clit with the tense tip of his tongue, letting it roll and flick just right. You tried to catch your breath, tried to supress the sounds that threatened to escape you. Wanting nothing else but to please him too, your eyes darted to his hard cock, nervously thinking what to do, what would make him feel good. And when your felt Jake moan against you, his plump lips sucking at your bud you panted back, mouth agape as your hand went to wrap around him hastily. Your hand moved clumsily up and down his shaft, precum leaking with each tug you delivered. He moaned against you again, lips releasing your clit before moving up to your entrance, poking and circling it. You moaned, eyes going shut and mouth agape, your palm stroking him as you leaned all the way down to his tip.
Just as you were about to engulf his raging head, a high pitched moan erupted from your chest when his finger entered your hole, mouth moving down to your throbbing clit, sucking harshly, flicking his hungry tongue over the puffy bud that pulsed between his slick lips. "Ahâ" Your hand slowed down around him, eyes going shut as your forehead dropped down briefly to his hip, searching for something to hold onto, to steady you. Your hips moved back instinctively, meeting his finger half-thrust and grinding against his suckling mouth. "You like me sucking your pussy clean, hm?" He pulled just an inch before his tongue flicked your clit, dancing around it with precision, his finger thrusting into your throbbing tight hole fast. Your hand stopped at the base of his big cock, head raising from his hip as your moaned desperately, other hand fisting his sweats.
"Fuckâ Yes Daddy, yes!"
Words left your fuzzy mind without a thought, and Jake swore his heart stopped. His dick twitched. He growled against your heat in response, tongue lapping up your essence that seemed to never stop. "Yeah? You like daddy making you feel good?"
Your breath caught hard in your throat at his words, the nickname still echoing through your hazy mind like a spark to dry fuel as you hummed in response. Heat rushed through your body all at once, your fingers tightening around him where you held him at the base. For a second you almost forgot what you were doing entirely â hips trembling above him while his mouth worked against you with a hunger that made your head spin.
"C'mon princess. Don't get tired now..." He muttered against you, voice muffled and rough as his tongue dragged slowly over you again, making your thighs tense around his head. "Use that mouth too⊠yeah, just like that."
The command pulled you back into the moment.
Your hand began moving again, slowly at first, uncertain fingers sliding along his length while your lips finally lowered around the heated tip you'd been hovering over. The contact pulled a deep groan out of him instantly, the vibration of it sending another sharp shiver up your spine.
"FuckâŠ" He breathed, the word rumbling low against your skin. Your tongue moved shyly, copying what he instructed you earlier â small, curious movements, tasting the salty warmth there before your lips closed more firmly around him. Your hand followed the rhythm, sliding up and down as you tried to find a pace that felt right.
Jake's reaction was immediate. He moaned, hips bucking into your mouth and grip. His hand came down to your thigh, gripping it firmly while his finger curled inside you, thrusting a little deeper now. His mouth didn't leave you for more than a second at a time, tongue flicking and circling before sealing around your sensitive bud again with renewed focus.
"That's itâŠ" He rasped, breath uneven now. "Look at you⊠learning so fast."
The praise made your stomach tighten.
You tried to keep moving for him, your mouth and hand working together clumsily but eagerly, and every small sound he made only made you want to do it better. His hips twitched beneath you, his fingers tightening slightly in your thigh while his tongue pressed harder, more deliberate now.
The rhythm between you both started to build without either of you saying it.
Your hips moved against his face helplessly, chasing the sensation each time his tongue found the exact spot that made your whole body jolt. His finger pushed in deeper, curling slightly as he felt you clench around him.
"Yeah⊠There you go." He murmured against you, voice low and breathless. "Feel that?"
You did.
The strange tight warmth in your stomach was back again, stronger this time â spreading through your body in waves that made it harder and harder to keep your movements steady. Your hand faltered around him for a moment, a muffled moan slipping from your throat when he pulled his finger out, vibrations around his tip sending his hips thrusting up.
Jake noticed instantly.
His arms wrapped around your thighs to keep you where he wanted you, holding you in place while his tongue moved faster, more focused now. His head moved against your pussy, eating you till he is breathless, till your essence dripped down onto his shirt, till his tongue glided against your hairy lips, sucking off the sticky mess.
Your mouth detached from him, a string of saliva snapping as you finally moaned, hand stopping all the movements over him. Your mouth went agape, eyes tight shut at the knot forming in the pit of your stomach. "IâIâYes! Fuck!" You stuttered, crying out as you moved back against his face. He slurped you up furiously, moaning as he let your pussy drool all over his face.
Your body shuddered violently, everything seemed to shut down except him. Every nerve was alight as the heat coiled tighter and tighter in your core. Breath hitched and uneven, your chest rising and falling fast. Your hands clutched at the couch as your hips moved desperately back against him. The sensation of him beneath you, relentless and unyielding, was too much, too exquisite, and your mind could not hold back any longer.
"DâDaddy... Oh fuck!" You cried, voice breaking. Jake stiffened under you at your voice, eyes closing for a moment as he savored the sound. The nickname slipped out so naturally, so needy, it pulled a low desperate groan from his chest as he didn't let up. His tongue sucked at your clit harshly, rolling it between his plump tired lips as his two fingers found your hole again. He felt your spasming entrance pull them in, sucking greedily.
He held you there, face pressed to your most sensitive spot, tongue circling and flicking, his fingers pumping into you just enough to tease you, guiding the waves of release that kept crushing through you. Your nails dug into his sides now, pressing into his covered thighs. He hissed against you at it, his own breathing raged and desperate.
"That's it, doll... That's it." He rasped, voice low and commanding. "Feel that... Feel how good you are for me." Your high body trembled, hips jerking lightly as your climax ripped through you. Your hair stuck to your sweaty face, sticky and wild, your throat hoarse as you shivered over him. His grip on your thighs faltered, now digging into your hip as he guided you over his mouth that moved around your bud with sharp and teasing precision, keeping you riding the aftermath of your high. "So perfect, babydoll... Look at you, shaking for me." He murmured, voice rough and vibrating against your swollen pussy, his fingers pumping into you mercilessly.
Your thighs felt like jelly, shivering and trembling with each feel of his warmth against you. Your chest heavied, against his pelvis, arms shaky by his sides. Every whispered words from him sent shivers down your spine, making you arch instinctively, chasing the lingering waves of pleasure and not wanting this to end. You sobbed, vision blurry as you still grinded against his savage fingers. "Please please pleaseâ I don't want it to stop please Daddy!" You cried out, hands fisting his sweats as the pleasure started subduing, slowly being replaced by the sensitivity you never felt before.
Jake's hummed under you, feeling your weight on top of his burning body as his fingers assaulted your heat. Your gaping hole fluttered when he pulled them out, making you twitch under his eyes as he smacked your thigh. Hard. A red harsh print rising fast on your sweaty skin as the smack resonanted the room. And you jolted from it. "C'mon... Bend over the couch f'me."
You hummed in affirmation, nodding to yourself as you crawled away from him, your body tender and limp, but still the hunger kept you tethered. You grabbed the back of the couch ignoring the uncomfortable sensitivity between your slick thighs as they quivered. Your knees deeped into the cushion, your arms resting over the back rest as you positioned yourself. Slightly leaned over. Knees apart. Lower back arched.
Just the way you thought is supposed to be.
Jake was quick to eye your position, going over your side and curves. You turned your head to the side to look at him. Ruined. You were ruined. Jake hummed in delight, gaze dancing over your face as he pushed himself up. "Little girl is learning fast, hm?" His hands grabbed the hem of his shirt as he was up on his feet, moving right behind you. "Are you that eager for a cock?" He taunted, shirt on the floor by his feet as he let his knees dip into the couch bezween your apart calves. You gulped, still trying to collect yourself, to steady. The only sign of presence form him was the dipped couch right by your legs, the suffocating warmth from the proximity behind you and now his arms that came into your vision, grabbing onto the same cushion right by your own trembling hands. He moved closer, breath fanning your ear, his cock slightly brushing your ass and you froze. "Are you going to be a good girl for daddy?" His voice was low, seductive.
Jake placed a tender kiss on your shoulder, the place burning and aching. "Let me use your little virgin cunt? Hm?" He grinded his hips right on you, letting it glide between your tender asscheeks. He felt you move back against it, a whimper following. He chuckled darkly, one of his hands moving down around his cock, grasping it and leading it to your leaking folds.
"Shit baby..." His gaze was stuck to your messy heat. Tip grazing against rough hairs as they caressed his raging head. He hissed, dragging it against the slimy and sticky mess. You gasped when he dived into your slit, dragging the tip up and down your fold, separating them and watching the way they closed around his pulsing dick. He groaned when he felt your bud against his shaft, grinding and thrusting right through your mess. You shook under Jake, letting him play with you as he pleased, as he and only he wanted.
"You are going to take this dick, right sweetie?"
No answer, just a sharp inhale when his tip caught onto your clit before moving up to your entrance, tapping against your clenching hole.
"Words, pretty... I need words."
"YâYes..." He put a slight pressure against your gaping slit. You gasped. "Yes what?" He asked cockily, right by your ear. You closed your eyes as you inhaled sharply again, trying to form a proper sentence and ignore the way he was shallowly pressing against your pussy, trying to get the filthy words out of you.
"I-I'm going to take it..."
Jake's brows furrowed, teasingly thinking about it with a smirk tugging at his lips. He pushed the tip in with no warning and you stiffened. "Hmmm, I dont think I like that. Let's rephrase it, shall we?" He slammed in, knocking the air out of your lungs with the sudden stretch and fullness. You gripped the backrest, a sob escaping you. Too full. It was too much. Your nails dug into the cushion, bracing for more. The pain was sudden when he glided in with a sharp thrust. He stayed still, breath still fanning your cheek. "I'm going to take daddy's cock like a good little girl, say it." He bottomed out, feeling your walls relax around him before he thrusted in again. His now free hand came up to your hair, tangling into the roots as it stayed there. "IâI'm going to take daddy' s cock like a good little girl!" You sobbed out, tears threatening to drop down your hot face. He pulled back again, hips slamming against your ass hard, sending you jolting against the couch.
"Good girl...." He cooed, jutting his bottom lip out as he breathed over your ear. "See? It wasn't that hard." He started thrusting, catching the rhythm and feeling you tremble with each drag of his heavy cock against your soft velvety walls. You bit your lip, eyes tight shut as a tear rolled down your cheek. You were gripping the back rest for dear life, his hips smacking and dick dragging in and out of you made you dizzy.
When suddenly, the uncomfortable thrusting, the uncomfortable stretch started melting into something else. Your mouth opened, focusing on your breathing as you relaxed against him. Jake felt that, felt your walls relax and take him in without resistance. "That's it..." He murmured. "Take it all." His grip tightened in your hair, hips speeding up. A broken low moan escape your parted lips when he pistoned into. Your gummy walls taking him in, sucking so invitingly. Your brows furrowed, the tears drying on your warm cheeks as you let him abuse your tight cunt.
Jake delivered a kiss to your shoulder, tongue flicking your ear as he panted, chasing the friction that seemed to only dissolve with your wetness that seeped out of you. The sounds were obscene, echoing together with the forgotten low music in the background, your pants and sobs replacing it.
"So fucking tight." He groaned when he felt you squeeze him. His fingers flexed in your hair, pushing your head lower, bending your body to his will as he straightened his back, eyes moving down to the way you took him. The new slightly different angle made you moan, hips moving to meet his. Your forehead on the couch, arms dangling in front of you as he pressed harder and harder into you. The smacking sounds were filthy, your moans and his pants mixed in a spiral of frenzied hunger.
"Please please please." You uttered out, the now familiar knot forming again at the pit of your abdomen, the third orgasm on its way as the sensitivity was long forgotten. Jake's eyes moved over your back, over your hips that moved with each plunge of his into your pussy that took him so good. His cock throbbed, begging for a release. But Jake licked his lips, eyes stuck to your essence sticking to his pelvis and the base of his cock and he groaned, pulling out hastily.
"I have to fucking taste you again." He spoke through gritted teeth at your gasp of surprise at the sudden emptiness. He lowered down, his grip on the couch and your hair moving down to your hips as he was down face to face with your wetness. You raised your head, glancing over your shoulder in confusion, trying to catch your breath.
His tongue ran through your folds impatiently, moaning at your mixed arousals at it ooze out of your used hole. Fucking tainted cunt that was his to use for the first time. His to make it filthy and ruined.
You moaned, hand blindly reached behind you, finding his hair as you gripped it. "So good! Please don't stop!" You moaned out, feeling his thumbs coming to spread your lips, revealing the tender flesh that begged for his mouth. And he attached to you again, sucking and rolling your bud aggressively before moving up to your hole, thrusting his tongue repeatedly, feeling you fall apart and melt into the couch.
He pulled away, just enough to spit onto you, saliva attaching and dripping as it mixed with your slimy mess. It dripped right from your hole and moved your throbbing clit. It dipped right into your dark hair.
Jake inhaled sharply, watching it stick to the ruined, harsh hairs and before he could stop himself his tongue dived into your bush, his nose bumping at your sore bundle of nerves. He dragged his tongue around your puffy hair, moaning as he felt it scratch his hot muscle just right, feeling it graze his plump lips. "Fuck." He cursed under his breath, his hand coming down to stroke his abandoned cock furiously, tugging it fast as he raised himself again on his feet, knees back on their old position against the couch as he entered you again.
He moaned at the feel together with your desperate whine at the intrusion. Feeling him fill every space behind you. No words were exchanged as he started thrusting into you furiously, chasing his high. You squirmed under him, soft moans leaving your parted lips as he ravished you. His breath hitched as your body trembled beneath him, the warmth and closeness making his head spin. For a moment he just held you there, chest pressed against your back, his hands gripping your hips as he moved with a restless, impatient rhythm. The couch creaked faintly beneath you both, the room filled with nothing but uneven breathing and the quiet sounds of movement.
Your fingers curled into the fabric beneath you, trying to steady yourself as the sensation kept building again, softer this time but just as overwhelming. The haze from earlier still clung to your thoughts, making everything feel slower, warmer, more intense. Jake noticed immediately, a quiet groan slipped from him as he pulled you a little closer against him, his grip tightening slightly on your waist.
Jake let out a rough breath, his grip tightening on your hips as he held you exactly where he wanted you. The desperation in him was obvious now â no more restraint, no careful teasing. Just raw hunger.
"God⊠Listen to you." He muttered near your ear, voice hoarse and low. "All those pretty sounds and you think I'm gonna go easy on you?"
Your breath caught at the tone alone.
He leaned closer, chest pressing harder into your back, the warmth of him wrapping around you as his movements grew more impatient again. A quiet whine escaped you, and that only seemed to make him worse.
Jake let out a dark chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin as his fingers tightened slightly at your waist, keeping you from slipping away from him. "Yeah, that's it⊠keep making those noises." He murmured. "You've got no idea what that does to me."
Your head tipped forward, breath uneven, fingers gripping the backrest at the feel of his cock reaching deeper than ever. "" Donât hide from me."He said, voice suddenly sharper, more commanding. One hand slid up your side, guiding your jaw to face him over your shoulder so he could see your face again. "I want to see you when you feel it."
Your eyes flicked to his, dazed and glassy. Jake groaned quietly at the sight the other hand coming between your legs to rub your clit "Fuck⊠There she is." He breathed, fingers speeding up against your puffy bud. "All worked up and looking at me like that."
His thumb brushed along your jaw for a second before his hand dropped back to your hip, pulling you closer again. You whimpered, your head overwhelmed with all the stimulation that you are left just breathing harshly. "You're trouble, you know that?" He muttered, breath hot against your neck, fingers never faltering against your clit as you felt the knot grow tight, at the bring f exploding. "Walking around acting all innocent, and then look what you do to me."
You shifted helplessly against him, hips trying to run from his merciless hand but was only met with his cock that plunged into you angrily, pulsing inside of you. Your breath broke into a shaky cry as the pressure inside you tightened impossibly, every nerve screaming with the intensity of it. Jake felt it â the way your body started trembling against him, the way your hips faltered as if you didn't know whether to pull away or chase the feeling harder.
"Yeah cum on my cock, sweetie. " He rasped against your ear, voice thick and dark. His arm wrapped tighter around your waist, holding you right where you were when you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation. "You feel that, huh? Been building this whole time."
You whimpered, fingers clutching blindly at his forearm, your body shaking harder with every second. He chuckled darkly against your skin, his hips fucking you into the oblivious, fingers playing with your sensitive clit. "Jake! Jake fuck!"
"FuckâŠ" He breathed, the sound almost a growl as he felt you come apart against him. His grip tightened on you, holding you steady while your body trembled through it, your breath coming out in broken gasps. "That's it." He murmured, voice suddenly softer but still thick with hunger. "Good girl⊠such a good girl."
Your nails dug into his arm as the aftershocks kept rippling through you, your body weak and shaking in his hold. Jake pressed his forehead briefly to the side of your head, his breathing just as ragged now.
"This little pussy is sucking me in so good..." He muttered hoarsely, fingers against your twitching clit stopping as he focused on the way your spasming walls took him. "Going to fucking breed you... Let everyone know you let me in your tight virgin pussy." He sped up his thrusts, the pace making you grip the couch tighter, closing your eyes as you endured. You moaned, his words sending small waves of pleasure through you. "You want that, hm?" You nodded quickly, breathing unstable and fast as spoke through gritted teeth, when the sudden tightness burst and he moaned. His cock shot ropes of white right into you, coating your walls as it pulsed. Jake's thrust slowed gradually, letting the last drops leave his throbbing lenght.
Jake's breath left him in a long, ragged exhale as the last of the tension drained from his body. For a moment he stayed exactly like that behind you, forehead resting against your shoulder, both of you breathing hard in the quiet room. The haze from earlier still clung to everything â the music faint somewhere in the background, the warmth of your bodies pressed together, the slow return of your senses after everything that had just happened. His hand slid lazily over your hip, squeezing once before he finally pulled out. His cock drained and your pussy glistening and pulsing.
You felt the movement and let out a soft, exhausted whine, your arms still braced against the couch as you tried to steady your breathing. Jake chuckled quietly behind you at the sound, the low rumble of it warm against your skin.
"EasyâŠ" He murmured.
He shifted again, slowly pulling away and helping you sit back properly against the cushions. For a second neither of you spoke. You just sat there catching your breath, hair messy, lips parted, your body still trembling faintly from the aftershocks. The sudden uncomfortable leak of fluid from your hole made you hiss, eyes dropping between your thighs as you slightly spread them.
Jake ran a hand through his hair, letting out another breath before glancing over at you. "Hey." He said quietly, nudging your knee with his. "Look at me."
Your eyes lifted to his, still a little dazed. His expression softened slightly when he saw you like that â flushed, shy again now that the intensity had faded. "I'll grab you a Plan B later." He said, voice calmer now, almost casual despite everything that had just happened. "Just to be safe." You blinked at him, the seriousness of it cutting through the fog in your head. Then you nodded slowly, still quite not grasping the situation and everything that happened.
Jake leaned back into the couch with a tired sigh, throwing an arm across his eyes, breathing hard. "Jesus." He muttered with a crooked smile, everything coming to him in a flash. The weight falling on his shoulders he didn't expect it to. "Didn't expect tonight to go like that." Before you could answer, a sudden knock echoed from the front door.
Both of you froze.
Another knock followed, louder this time. Jake's head turned slowly toward the hallway, brows lifting slightly. "UhâŠ" He muttered under his breath. From outside the door, a familiar voice called out.
"Hello? Jake? Is she here?"
Your stomach dropped instantly.
Your mom.
Jake snapped his head toward you, eyes going over your naked figure before he tucked himself in his briefs, raising the sweats back over his hips. He grabbed the shirt from the floor and put it on before he spoke with a commanding and controlled voice, no sight of any panic.
"Get dressed. Quickly."
_____
! this is all work of fiction. in no way this is a representation of enhypen members nor do I believe this is how they behave in real life or condone these actions!
» summary: jake was stuck. sex had gotten boring, always the same routine, nothing exciting enough to stick in his head. he wasnât exactly searching for something new, but when a stupid bdsm test came up in conversation with you, he found himself way too curious. suddenly, heâs researching kinks at 3am, making reddit posts like an idiot, and realizing that maybe he doesnât just want answers, he wants to try them with you. and maybe all he wants right now is ask: i donât wanna be just friends, donât wanna be away from you, can i be a pet?
Ⱐpairing: jake x fem!reader // Ⱐgenre: smut (mdni!!), friends to lovers, college au, slowburn-ish #nowplaying » cat & dog - tomorrow x together | mutt - leon thomas | wet dreamz - j. cole | doo wop (that thing) - lauryn hill | mrs. officer - lil wayne | so fresh, so clean - outkast | word count: 28k
!! warnings: smut (mdni), smut, unprotected sex (do not do it!!), petplay, brat!reader x brat tamer!jake, power dynamics, bdsm dynamics, alcohol and weed consumption, anal play, oral sex (m and f receiving), size kink, fingering, squirting, degradation and praising kink, dirty talk, rough sex, bitch the whole thing they are freaky lmao
JAKE SIM HAD THIS REPUTATION AROUND CAMPUS, AND HE KNEW IT. he wasnât the type to deny it either, he kind of leaned into it. he had the face, he had the charm, the easy smile that worked on almost anyone, and he was well aware that people liked talking about him. he wasnât shy about the fact that he hooked up with a lot of girls, not in a bragging way, more like he genuinely didnât see the point of pretending otherwise. if he wanted something, he went for it, and most of the time he got it.
the funny part was that it never really felt like enough. people would assume he was satisfied, like he had it all figured out, but the truth was, after a while, it all started blending together. same kind of nights, same routines, same conversations that ended in the same place. he liked it in the moment, of course, he wasnât going to lie about that, but he always went home with this weird feeling, like something was missing, and it wasnât the whole âlooking for loveâ thing either. it was more that he wanted something different, something he couldnât even name yet.
he wasnât the type to sit around and analyze himself too much, but he noticed the pattern. no matter how many people he fucked, heâd end up lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking, is that really it?
he didnât talk about it with anyone, because what was he supposed to say? âyeah iâm sleeping with half the campus but iâm still kind of boredâ? that would sound ridiculous. and you knew him enough to know the image he carried, everyone did, but what people didnât really see was that restless part of him, the part that kept looking for something he couldnât find. and he hated admitting it, but lately he started realizing that maybe the problem wasnât the girls or the sex itself, maybe the problem was that he wanted to try things he didnât even know how to explain without sounding insane.
âyou ever feel like⊠sex is just the same shit over and over?â jake asked, not even looking directly at sunghoon while the fifa match rolled on his tv.
sunghoon paused the game immediately, which already said a lot, because sunghoon never paused fifa for anything. he turned to look at jake dead in the eye. âwhat the fuck are you talking about?â
âiâm serious,â jake said, sighing. âlike, yeah, itâs good, but sometimes iâm just⊠i donât know, bored.â
sunghoon started laughing so hard he almost dropped the controller. âyou? bored? mr. i-had-sex-in-the-theater-bathroom last week? nah. shut the fuck up.â
âthatâs exactly what i mean!â jake argued, leaning forward. âitâs always the same shit. hook up, make out, fuck, pass out. repeat. iâm telling you, i feel like thereâs supposed to be more, but i donât know what the hell that is.â
âokay,â sunghoon said, nodding like he was being thoughtful, but his grin gave him away. âso what youâre saying is⊠your dickâs tired.â
âthatâs not what i said.â
âsounds like what you said.â
before jake could fire back, the door creaked open and heeseung walked in with a bag of chips and a joint between his fingers, looking like he hadnât slept in two days. he glanced at the tv, took a drag, then looked at them. âyou guys talking about gooning?â
âkinda,â sunghoon answered instantly, pointing at jake. âapparently mr. campus heartthrob is bored of pussy.â
heeseung raised an eyebrow, ripped open the chips, and sat down on the armrest. âwow. should we throw you a funeral?â
jake groaned and buried his face in his hands. âyou guys are fucking useless.â
ânah, bro, iâm serious,â sunghoon said, nudging him with his foot. âmaybe you just need some freaky shit. like, tie someone up, put on a costume, bark a little. switch it up.â
âthe fuck are you even saying?â jake shot back, but the way his ears went red didnât go unnoticed.
heeseung caught it instantly, grinning like a devil. âwait. wait. oh my god. jake wants to bark.â
âshut the fuck up,â jake muttered, ending the conversation.
but the thing is, jake thought sometimes about barking. i mean, not literally standing in someoneâs room on all fours going woof, but the thought of something that wasnât just the usual sex crossed his mind more than once. like, there had to be people out there doing shit that wasnât just missionary or whatever. he wasnât about to admit it out loud to sunghoon or heeseung because he knew theyâd never let it go, but after that night, the whole âmaybe you need to barkâ thing kept replaying in his head. and he didnât immediately shut it down. he laughed in front of them, told them they were idiots, but later that week, lying in bed at two a.m., he actually caught himself googling âunconventional sex stuff.â
thatâs how he ended up on reddit. it wasnât even intentional, he just clicked link after link until suddenly he was in some forum full of people talking about kinks like they were trading recipes. half the stuff freaked him out, the other half made him curious in a way he didnât know how to process. he didnât think he was a freak, but then again, maybe he was, because none of this was coming up in regular conversations, and he clearly couldnât bring it up to his friends without being clowned for the rest of his life.
so one night, after reading through threads for way too long, he gave in and made a throwaway account.
r/TooAfraidToAsk
u/australianlebron127 | 12m
i feel like iâm bored of sex but donât know what iâm looking for, is that normal?
iâm a 23 year old male and iâve been pretty active since like freshman year of college. iâve hooked up with a lot of people, and i guess on the outside it sounds cool, but honestly it all feels the same and i keep thinking iâm missing something. my friends make jokes about âfreaky stuffâ and once someone even said i probably just need to bark or whatever, which was stupid, but now i canât stop thinking maybe i actually do need something like that.
i donât even know what iâm into, i just know regular sex feels kind of⊠repetitive. iâm not in a relationship and iâm not looking for love advice or anything like that, iâm just wondering if itâs normal to feel like this or if i should be trying to figure out what i like more. and if i should⊠how do you even start? like i canât just ask someone âhey wanna let me experiment with youâ right? idk.
after he posted it, jake shut his laptop like he just confessed a crime. he honestly thought no one would even read it, but the next morning when he checked again, there were already a bunch of replies. some of them were just people trolling him, like one guy wrote âbro just buy a dildo and stop crying,â which didnât help at all, but there were also some longer comments from people who actually sounded like they knew what they were talking about.
one person wrote something like, âyou donât have to know your kink right away, just pay attention to what sticks in your head. if something makes you curious, thatâs worth exploring.â another person said, âtry to communicate with partners, youâd be surprised how many people are also bored of âregularâ sex and want to experiment too.â and then there was one comment that just said, âmaybe youâre into power dynamics. look into dom/sub stuff, thatâs usually a good starting point.â
jake read through all of them with his face buried in his pillow, feeling like if anyone walked in and saw what he was doing, heâd have to transfer schools immediately. but at the same time, it made him feel a little less crazy. apparently, other people were going through the same thing, or at least close enough. he wasnât the only one who felt like sex got repetitive after a while. still, he didnât know what to do with that information. he wasnât about to sit sunghoon down and say, âhey bro, what do you think my kink is?â and he sure as hell wasnât going to test this out with some random hookup from a party. if he was going to try anything new, he wanted it to be with someone who actually knew him, someone he trusted not to laugh in his face.Â
and thatâs when he remembered you.
he met you through jungwon and sunoo. you were always around, more like part of the background of the friend group. jake thought you were cool, funny without trying too hard, and yeah, obviously really hot, but he never made a move because you werenât like the other girls he usually talked to at parties. you didnât even go to half the parties. when he did see you, you were usually laughing with your friends, completely unbothered by whatever was going on around. you never hooked up, never even flirted, but there was this one time that stuck with him.Â
he was walking past in the middle of a random conversation between you and sunoo, and he caught enough of it to never forget. you were holding your phone, laughing so hard, and you went, âwho the fuck gets a hundred percent vanilla on the bdsm test? you have to try to be that boring.â
sunoo immediately grabbed the phone from you, yelling, âshut up! you literally got ninety-six percent petplay, you freak! what are you even talking about?â
jake didnât even know what to do with that information at the time, but he remembered the way you just laughed and shrugged, like it was nothing. he laughed too, mostly because sunoo looked like he was about to pass out from embarrassment, but the conversation burned into his brain. now, weeks later, lying in bed after scrolling through way too many reddit threads about kinks, that memory hit him again, like his brain suddenly pulled out a file he didnât realize he kept. and you sounded so comfortable with it, like talking about sex wasnât this big taboo topic.
jake thought about it more than once after that, and now, with all this restless energy in his head, it started to feel like a sign. maybe you werenât close, maybe you werenât the person he texted at two in the morning, but you were the only person he could think of who might not laugh in his face if he admitted he was⊠curious. so he picked up his phone, scrolled through his contacts until he found your name, and stared at it for a solid minute like the letters might rearrange themselves into âdonât do this.â then, because he was jake, he typed something dumb and hit send before he could overthink it.
jake: yo do u know if the cafeteria is still selling those massive cookies or did they stop
you didnât answer right away, which made him instantly regret his entire life, but then the screen lit up.
you: why are you texting me about cookies at 11pm
you: and yes they still sell them lol
he grinned, already feeling lighter.
jake: good to know
jake: important info
there was a pause, and then you sent back:
you: youâre so weird sometimes
he laughed out loud at that. it was stupid, but it gave him enough courage to type what he really wanted.
jake: hey random question tho
jake: u remember that bdsm test thing u joked about w sunoo once
jake: do u still have the link perchance
he stared at the message after sending it, suddenly way too aware of how insane it looked. but it was too late, it was out there. his brain was screaming at him that this was either the best idea he ever had or the dumbest one, and he wouldnât know which until you answered, but your reply came quicker than he expected.
you: LMAO jake why are u asking me this
you: are u abt to send me ur result rn bc i wanna see
you: donât lie i KNOW ur not 100% vanilla
you dropped the link right after, and jake felt his stomach twist because now he had no excuse. he clicked it. the layout looked ancient, like a quiz someone coded in 2005, but it was apparently the same test everyone online swore by.
he started reading the questions, and it was instantly ridiculous. stuff like âwould you enjoy being tied up?â or âwould you enjoy tying someone else up?â and the scale went from âabsolutely notâ to âhell yes.â jake sat there, thinking way harder than he expected. some of them were easy to answerâno, he didnât want to be whipped until he couldnât walkâbut others made him hesitate, like maybe heâd try it, maybe it didnât sound that bad.
when the petplay questions showed up, he froze for a second. he could practically hear sunghoon in his head going âbro, bark,â and it made him want to close the tab, but at the same time⊠he didnât click âabsolutely not.â he thought about it, sighed, and picked âmaybe.â
twenty minutes later, the results loaded on his screen in neat little percentages, like it was about to diagnose him with something.
jake stared at the screen. part of him wanted to laugh, part of him wanted to throw his phone out the window, and another part of him just thought: yeah, that actually makes sense. he sat there, debating whether sending it to you would make him look confident or like the biggest clown alive. but you had asked to see it, and he kind of did want to know what youâd say. so he did send you the screenshots, three images of his percentages sitting in your chat, and you answered almost instantly.
you: LMAOOO
you: okay i expected switch 100% bc u give off that vibe
you: but 94% pet?? never in my life would i have guessed that
jake felt his ears burn. he didnât even know what that was supposed to mean, but the way you typed it made him smile anyway.
jake: bro donât act like u werenât the one clowning sunoo abt this shit
you: yeah but i didnât expect u to be secretly into meowing
jake: i didnât say iâm into that
you: mhmmm the math says otherwise jakey
he groaned and threw his phone onto his pillow, but then picked it right back up. he wanted to defend himself, but at the same time, it felt good that you werenât making it weird. you were teasing him, yeah, but it was soft, like the way youâd tease a friend. even though jake didnât know if friend was the right word.
jake: alright then, whereâs urs
you: oh iâm not sending mine
jake: tf why not
you: bc itâs funnier to let u wonder
jake: wtf does that mean
you: it means one day maybe iâll show u in person idk
jake stared at that message for a solid minute. in person? what do you mean âin personâ? he had no idea if you were flirting, being sarcastic, or just messing with him for fun. either way, the thought lodged itself in his brain immediately and refused to leave. he wasnât sure what he was supposed to do with that, but his brain decided to run off with it anyway. like maybe, hypothetically, if one day you actually did drop to your knees in front of him and said âmeow,â he wouldnât hate it. actually, he might really, really not hate it.
so that week jake couldnât stop thinking about it. so naturally, at three in the morning when any normal person would be asleep, he was hunched over his laptop, typing âwhat is petplay kinkâ into google like some dad learning how to use tiktok.
the first page of results didnât help much. there were a bunch of articles that tried to sound educational but were really just people overexplaining, and then there were forums with way too many details he wasnât ready for. he clicked through anyway, and five minutes later he was learning that apparently some people actually bought collars for this stuff, and leashes, and there was a whole thing about drinking water from bowls. he sat back in his chair, âno way,â he muttered to himself. âthereâs no way iâm buying a dog bowl.â but then another part of him was like⊠okay, maybe not the bowl, but the collar thing? that didnât sound as insane.
he kept scrolling. one post talked about how petplay wasnât always about barking or crawling around, sometimes it was just about roles, like playfulness, obedience, teasing. that part made more sense to him. then he fell into another rabbit hole, this time about âbrat taming.â apparently it meant dealing with someone who liked to push back, tease, talk back until you had to put them in their place. jake read three different threads about it and had to close the tab because, yeah, he was definitely into that.
he shut his laptop after an hour of scrolling, face buried in his hands, because what the hell was he even doing? one week ago he was just another guy with too much free time, and now he was sitting there seriously wondering if buying a collar off amazon would be insane or just a solid investment. and the kicker was, every time he thought about it, your face showed up in his head.
so when he saw you for the first time after that, he felt something weird going on around his pants. and jake wasnât a fucking teen anymore, he wasnât gonna get hard just by looking at a girl, but somehow he was⊠semi hard. it had been a long time since that happened out of nowhere and he thought it was kind of strange, like his body was reminding him of things he hadnât thought about in months.
you looked up from your laptop, saw him, and smiled. that smile â bright, easy â made him immediately forget that anything felt weird. you waved, and jake had to remind himself to actually walk toward you instead of standing there like a moron.
âhey!â you called, motioning him over. âcome sit.â you were sitting at a table with jungwon and sunoo, laptop open in front of you. jungwon was typing something, sunoo was scrolling on his phone, âso⊠did you get the giant cookie from the cafeteria or what?â you asked, a playful grin on your face.
jake internally thanked you, harder than he wanted to admit, for not bringing up the test. one, because he would have died of embarrassment with jungwon and sunoo there, and two, because honestly, thinking about it again might have made him get hard all over again in the middle of the library cafe. âuh⊠no, not yet,â he said, trying to keep his voice steady and not make it sound like his entire body was having a meeting about you.
âoh, okay,â you said, opening your laptop wider. âwe can grab some after i finish this thing.â
he slid into the chair next to you, careful not to get too close, careful not to breathe like he was dying, and just tried to act like a normal human. which, for jake, was hard work when you were smiling at him like that.
after a while, you both got up and headed to the cafeteria. he was quieter, more reserved, but trying to respond, trying to interact without sounding like he was hyperventilating. by the time you got to the display with all the cookies, it was just the two of you. jake tried to act casual while his brain reminded him that he was, somehow, still semi hard and that his body was apparently having its own agenda today. he felt like a complete freak but the thought made him laugh at himself.
âso⊠chocolate cookie?â you asked, eyes sparkling, and then paused dramatically. âor are you gonna switch to vanilla?â you emphasized the word switch, looking at him like you knew exactly what you were doing.
jake couldnât help it. he laughed out loud. âoh, okay, i see what youâre doing,â he said, shaking his head. it was ridiculous, and he felt ridiculous, but in a way that made him feel⊠funny.
âwhat? iâm just trying to make cookie decisions fun,â you said, smirking, clearly loving that you got a reaction out of him.
âyeah yeah, sure,â he replied, and then couldnât resist pushing a little. âsooo⊠you said you were gonna show me your result personally, remember?â
you tilted your head, mock-serious. âwow, curious, arenât you?â
he felt his face heat up, part embarrassment, part horniness, but he couldnât stop thinking about how casual you were about all this. am i really getting turned on by a conversation about cookies and some quiz? he thought, mentally cursing himself, and then laughed a little because, yeah, apparently he was. âi mean⊠iâm not curious,â he said, though he was. âi just⊠maybe want to see it. for science.â
âmhmm, for science,â you repeated, grinning, clearly reading right through him. you sat down at a table after paying for the cookies, you opened your laptop casually, and started scrolling through your results. âalright, so⊠brace yourself,â you said, smiling at him, âhere.â jake leaned a little closer, trying not to stare too obviously at your face and also trying not to think about other⊠possibilities.Â
jake blinked a few times, and his brain immediately went to the oh shit this is hot mode. he felt his stomach tighten and had to consciously remind himself to breathe. he tried not to picture too much, trying not to lose it right there in front of you. after a beat, he swallowed and forced his voice casual. âyeah⊠i mean⊠i kinda imagined your result being something like this.â
you raised an eyebrow, grinning like you knew exactly what he was thinking. âahh, so you were thinking about my results, huh?â
jake felt his face heat up instantly, but he couldnât help laughing a little. âshut upâŠâ he said after you teased, clearly enjoying the fact that he was squirming just a bit.
ânever thought youâd be into petplay,â you said casually, glancing at him.
âme neither,â he admitted, a little embarrassed. âiâve never actually done it.â
âoh really?â you teased. âbut itâs on your test.â
âyeah⊠iâm just⊠assuming iâd like it,â he said, shrugging. ânever explored my kinks before. thatâs why i did the test.â
you smiled at him, eyes soft. âhonestly, i get it. itâs fine. makes sense.â
for some reason, hearing you say that made him feel comfortable, thinking how nice it was to have someone he could actually talk to about it. you kept talking about the results, scrolling through different percentages, laughing at some of the weirder ones, shaking your heads at others, like âwho the hell is this personâ kind of stuff. jake felt like he could actually breathe a little easier, like maybe exploring this shit didnât have to be some big awkward thing.Â
and then he caught himself thinking about it â again, for the hundredth time â that maybe having you actually⊠participate in some of it wouldnât be that bad. like, actually being there while you did the petplay stuff or teased him, whatever. and the thought hit him in a weird way that made him grin like a complete idiot, because yeah, it was exciting, and yeah, he could feel that familiar tightness in his pants again.
so after that, jake found himself doing more research about things you might like. he didnât even know why he was looking this stuff up. he told himself it was curiosity, like he was just trying to understand a phenomenon or something, but deep down he knew it was more than that.
he was intrigued by the kinks, by the way youâd come across as so⊠private. heâd never seen you with anyone, never heard stories about your experiences, and somehow that made him hornier and more curious at the same time. the weirdest part was that he felt like he knew a lot about you because of that damn bdsm test, but also realized he didnât know shitâwhereas you probably knew tons of stories about him and his past hookups.
eventually he went back to reddit. of course he did. he found a server for kinks and typed out a post, hesitating over every word, trying not to make himself sound like a total weirdo.
r/kink_advice
u/australianlebron127 | 3m
how do i talk to a friend about mutual kinks?
hi, iâm a 23m and i have this friend (24f), sheâs cool, funny, super private, and i think maybe we like the same kinks. weâve talked a little about bdsm stuff and she shared her results on this bdsm test once, which were very similar to mine. iâm curious and want to maybe explore things with her, but i have no idea how to even bring it up without making it weird. any advice?
the replies came fast. some were generic, like âjust be honest and communicate,â or âdonât push anything sheâs not into.â but then one comment made him stop scrolling for a second.
comment: if sheâs into petplay or praising kink, just call her a good girl out of nowhere and see how she reacts, or tell her to behave.
jake stared at that comment for longer than he should have. he couldnât believe that the solution was potentially so simple, and also so terrifying. he wasnât sure if it was genius or completely insane.
so he thought about putting the plan into practice that weekend, at the frat party. he already knew youâd be there because youâd mentioned jungwon and chaewon had been bugging you to go, and for jake, that sounded like the perfect opportunity. when he got to the house, sunghoon shoved a drink into his hand before he could even say hi, and riki was already trying to drag him outside to smoke a joint. jake brushed both of them off with a laugh, sipping the drink just to keep sunghoon from nagging, and then he saw you.
you were across the room, leaning against the counter with chaewon, laughing about something. you werenât dressed overly flashy, nothing insane, just jeans and a cropped tank top that showed a sliver of skin when you moved, and your hair pulled back like you didnât even try that hard. but for some reason, to jake, it looked better than half the girls in glitter dresses floating around the place.
he felt his stomach tighten in that same way it had the other day, and he had to stop himself from grinning too obviously. you had this golden retriever kind of energy, the kind of person who always smiled when someone waved, always asked how people were doing, and jake had that too, except his version usually came with flirting and ending up in someoneâs bed.
he could feel the stares of other girls in the room, some who heâd already hooked up with, some who he knew wanted to. he caught one or two smiling at him, making the kind of eye contact that usually meant come over here later, and he knew he could. he could pick almost anyone in the room if he wanted. but for once, he wasnât interested. the whole point tonight was you.
jake took another sip of his drink and pushed through the crowd, his eyes flicking back to you every other second. he was hyping himself up in his head, thinking about that stupid reddit comment and whether he was actually crazy enough to try it out. every step closer to you, the thought kept repeating in his head: good girl. just say it once. see what happens.
so he walked up to you, slid into that little circle, and went, âhey,â giving you and chaewon a nod. you both greeted him back, chaewon with her usual dry smile and you with that bright one that always made him feel like you were actually happy to see him, even if it was just a quick hello at a loud party.
the conversation was easy, just small talk but not awkward. eventually chaewon excused herself to get a drink, and right then minjeong walked past. she gave jake a quick once over and stopped long enough to rest her hand on his shoulder, leaning in with a smile that was way too obvious. âjake, later come find me, okay?â she said in that flirty tone that didnât leave much room for interpretation. he just gave a small nod, polite enough but already knowing he wasnât going to.
when she walked off, you tilted your head and started laughing under your breath. âwow,â you said, dragging the word out, âhow many girls here have you hooked up with?â
jake immediately shook his head, pressing his lips together like he was trying not to laugh. ânot that many,â he said, though even he knew it sounded weak.
you raised your brows, clearly amused. âand none of them made you wanna⊠what was it again? meow?â you asked, grinning at him like you were way too proud of yourself for remembering.
he froze for a second, caught completely off guard, before he tried to play it cool. âyouâre not letting that go, huh?â he leaned in a little, lowering his voice like it might soften the blow of how flustered he actually was. âbut, i mean, maybe itâs because none of them knew how to behave like you, i think.â
he said it half teasing, half testing, and his smile was trying to cover the way his heart was picking up. you squinted at him, amused but confused, and went, âwhat do you mean behave like me?â
jake didnât even hesitate. âuh, it was in your test. brat, sub, pet, you know what iâm talking about.â
you let out this little laugh, shaking your head. âok, thatâs in my test, but you donât know if iâm actually like that in real life. you literally said youâve never done petplay, and youâre just assuming youâd like it.â
he shrugged, leaning back slightly, but his eyes stayed on you. âyeah, but have you done it?â his tone was way too direct for the middle of a crowded party.
you laughed again, but this time it was softer, like you were a little embarrassed. âuh⊠yeah.â
jake grinned, instantly smug. âthen there you go. point proven. you do behave.â you didnât say anything right away, and that threw him off, because you were almost never quiet around him. you just looked at him for a second, like you were deciding something in your head. so he tilted his head and asked, âwhat?â
ânothing,â you said quickly, then paused. âjust thinking if youâve ever even talked about this with anyone else before.â
he scratched the back of his neck, a little awkward now. ânot really. i mean, sunghoon once told me i should bark at someone to see if iâd like it, but i didnât take him seriously.â
you cracked up at that, covering your mouth for a second. âmaybe minjeong would like that. i donât know. you could always try it on her.â
and that was the moment it hit him, clear as day. he didnât want to try anything with minjeong. he didnât want to test it out with some random girl who was already halfway throwing herself at him. he wanted you.
before he could say anything though, you excused yourself, saying you were gonna grab some water or check on chaewon or something, and then you slipped into the crowd. jake stood there for a second, realizing that if he actually wanted this to go anywhere with you, he was gonna have to be more direct about it. no more hiding behind jokes or waiting for you to bring it up.
after a while, jake found you by the drinks table, leaning against it with a plastic cup in your hand. you were turned, and when you noticed him coming over, you gave him this small smile, the kind you always did that looked automatic. âcan you fill mine up too?â he asked, holding out his cup.
âsure,â you said, reaching for the tap and tilting his cup under it.
the words came out of him before he even thought about them. âgood girl.â
you froze for a second. like, literally stopped mid-pour. then you turned your head slowly to look at him. âwhatâd you say?â
he didnât flinch. âi called you a good girl.â
he had no idea where the confidence was coming from. maybe from the fact that he hadnât gotten laid in weeks, maybe from the way youâd been laughing at his teasing earlier, maybe from too much beer, maybe from all of that. but he didnât look away. you held his gaze for a moment, then nodded once, finished filling his cup, and handed it back to him.
he grinned. âwhat? did you get flustered at that?â
âshut up, jake,â you said, but you were smiling, trying to hide it, and then you turned and walked off before he could say anything else.
heâd said it once, and you didnât blow him off, didnât get weird, didnât shut it down. if anything, youâd reacted. ok, he thought, taking a sip, i need to be even more direct.
later that night, jake found himself outside, because jake was jake and he couldnât say no to a blunt rotation with his friends. he was leaning back against the side of the house with heeseung and beomgyu, all of them passing around a joint. heeseung was halfway into some rant about how he thinks all stanley cups are potentially weapons when you came bouncing out the door.
âwow,â you said immediately, spotting them. âlook at you guys, stoner squad.â you laughed, light and teasing, but not mean.
jake felt that stupid twitch in his pants heâd been fighting all night right away and he hated himself for it. you werenât even doing anything. you were just smiling like always, tail wagging friendly, and somehow that was enough to get him semi hard again.Â
ââhe held the joint out to you. âwant some?â
you tilted your head, eyes narrowing like you were weighing it. âhm. itâs been a while. i donât know how iâll react.â but you took it anyway. your fingers brushed his as you grabbed it, then you brought it to your lips, inhaling slow. jake couldnât stop watching the way your chest rose and the way you let the smoke slip out through your lips. then you looked up at him, big doe eyes, blinking like a puppy, and it wasnât just the weed. that was a look, and he knew that look. he saw it tons of times before from other girls he knew that wanted him to fuck them.
âyou did good,â he said quietly, the words almost slipping out of his mouth on their own. his voice was low, soft but steady. praising.
you blinked, eyes widening a little, and then, of course, you smiled. not your usual grin, but this smaller one, just for him. you passed the joint back to him, and didnât say anything. jake smirked, turned, and shoved the joint back at heeseung and beomgyu. then he leaned in closer, lowering his voice so only they could hear. âyou two get the fuck outta here.â
heeseung frowned like he was about to argue, but beomgyu caught on quick, grabbed his arm, and dragged him off with the joint still in his hand. jake barely noticed, his eyes were already back on you. he could feel that edge of nervous energy sitting in his chest.
âyou know,â he started, voice little lower than usual, âiâve been thinking a lot about that test we took.âÂ
you tilted your head, sipping the last of your drink. âoh yeah?â
he let out a quick laugh, scratching the back of his neck. âyeah. like, iâve always wanted to try some of that stuff with someone, but i never really had anyone to test it out with.â
you snorted, but it wasnât mean, it was playful. âcome on, jake. youâre telling me youâve had no one to test kinks with? thatâs new. thatâs not the jake i know.â
he laughed too, shaking his head, stepping just a little closer. âcome on, you know thatâs not what i mean.â
âhowâs it not what you mean?â you asked, raising your brows like you were calling him out. âjake, there are at least ten girls in this house right now that iâve personally heard say theyâd do literally anything you asked. youâve gotta be more confident.â
âthe problem,â he said, this time leaning in slightly, his eyes flicking down to your mouth before back up, âis that i donât want just anyone.â
you paused, holding his gaze, and your lips tugged into this little smirk. âthen be confident and ask the person you actually want.â
you said it so obviously, like you were spelling it out for him, and jake knew youâd already figured it out. you werenât running from it either, which only made his pulse faster. he forced himself to stay calm, not too flirty, just enough to keep it casual, smug in the only way he knew how to handle this. âlook,â he said, âi know this might sound a little out of nowhere, but when i say iâve been thinking about it, i mean iâve actually been thinking about it.â you didnât interrupt, you just watched him, waiting. âand i donât want it to come off like iâm some fuck boy with weird kinks trying to test them on anyone whoâs remotely into the same stuff. thatâs not it. butâŠâ he hesitated for just a second, then pushed through, âif you wanted to⊠if you were down⊠you could maybe show me the things youâre into sometime. so i can see if iâm into them too.â
he said it steady, without laughing, without looking away, even though inside his stomach was doing flips. you smirked at him, leaning in just enough to make him think that you were about to say something he wanted to hear. âyeah,â you said, dragging it out, âi could try that sometime.â
jake froze for a second, because hearing you actually say that out loud hit him harder than he expected. it had been a long time since heâd felt this type of nervous to hook up with a girl, he wasnât just anxious but he was also excited, and his brain was already five steps ahead picturing what it would be like. and now you were looking at him with those wide puppy eyes, and he was pretty sure he hadnât been this gone over someone in a while.
so he leaned in, not even thinking too much about it, just following the way your words had practically given him permission, but right before he got there, you stepped back, smirk still on your face. âsometimeâ, you corrected, âi didnât say tonight.â
and then you turned, casually walking off, and jake just stood there, blinking at the back of your head as you went back to the house. he didnât even know what to do with himself. he could only think one thing: when exactly had he gotten himself this fucked?
after that night, jake couldnât think about anything else at all. every morning he woke up, the first thought in his brain was basically: when is sometime? it was killing him. his dick was practically on a constant timer, ready to embarrass him at any random moment. heâd see you on campus, just doing normal-ass things, like tying your shoe, talking to someone, sipping your coffee, and then youâd look up, smile at him like you didnât casually say you might let him try out some kinky shit with you, and instantly his pants got tight. it was torture.
he tried to play it cool, but the truth was his brain was fried. he couldnât stop thinking about all the ways it could go. you acting like a brat and him finally having an excuse to put you in your place? yeah, he wanted that. you in a collar? he was picturing it. you on all fours, maybe purring at him? his dick didnât see a problem with it.
the only issue was, he knew there were steps to get there, like he couldnât just skip straight to âhereâs your leash.â but still, he wanted it, and every day it was getting more unbearable. and jake kept replaying it in his head, wondering if youâd been kinkshaming him that night. but no, you didnât look disgusted. you looked like you enjoyed making him squirm.Â
so after days of overthinking, he finally just thought, fuck it, iâm texting her.
he stared at his phone for a second, then finally muttered to himself, âfuck it.â jeans went down, dick out, and he just leaned back against the headboard, taking a deep breath. this was the first time he was sexting someone like this, like really trying to push boundaries, and he never imagined heâd get this fucking horny reading messages.
the thought of you was too much. he didnât even really see your words at first. his eyes were half lidded, mind spinning, imagining you there, acting like you were challenging him to keep control while he was already losing it. your texts were just triggers at that pointâhe didnât need them to imagine every little sound, every whine, every little movement youâd make when he told you to behave. his hand moved on its own, faster and harder, and then he felt finally letting go, spilling all over himself, and it hit him how long it had been since heâd actually come like that just from his own hand and a fantasy. it wasnât some casual fap to random porn. it was you. the idea of you teasing him, bratting him, letting him call you a good girl, and him slowly building you up in his mind.
finally he wiped his hand, leaned back, and looked at his phone again. the last message from you was there:
you: youre jerking off arent you?
you: hope u have fun thinking about me
you: good night jakey đ
he just froze for a second, grinning like a complete idiot, and then read it again. and again. and again. every time he did, he couldnât help himselfâ his hand went back to his dick, and he was off, imagining your voice, your little smirks, the way youâd act bratty and subby and soft all at once. he spent the rest of the night like that, phone beside him, mind completely tangled up in fantasies about you, and every time he looked at those messages he had to jerk off again, like a fucking teenager.Â
and it kinda turned into a routine before he even realized it. every night, somewhere between brushing his teeth and pretending he was gonna go to bed early, jake ended up texting you. it started light, memes, random shit from his day, but without fail it slid into something else. not always full on sexting, sometimes it was just you pushing him with one-liners that had him hard in minutes. like that one time you just sent:
you: good pets beg nicely, donât they?
and he actually sat there, cock throbbing in his sweats, typing and deleting five different responses before finally sending something he never thought heâd put in writing.
and yeah, he was screwed. because he did like it, he liked you bratty, needy, whiny. he liked calling you his pet. but the thing that really fucked him up was realizing heâd always end up giving in to you anyway. no matter how much he talked big, if you told him to try something, heâd try it. if you wanted him to push a boundary, heâd push it. he was supposed to be the dom, but half the time he felt like a dog wagging his tail waiting for scraps from you. and yeah, the results saying âswitchâ were not a surprise at this point.
he even got nerdy about it. he continued reading reddit threads, doing kink tests, scrolling through subs at 3am like he was studying for a final exam (he should be studying for a few, actually). the only problem? he still hadnât seen you in person. and that was driving him insane.Â
he could type all the filth in the world, imagine you in a collar, call you his pet until his dick hurt, but at the end of the day you were still just words on a screen. and jake wanted more, he wanted your voice in his ear, your body under his hands, not just a fucking notification making him hard. and the longer it went, the worse it got. heâd go to bed thinking about you, wake up still hard, spend the day waiting for your messages just so he could crash again in that same loop. at some point he realized he was way past curious.Â
and jake wasnât even subtle about it. heâd been walking past your dorm for like the third time that week, pretending to be interested in the vending machine in the lobby. heâd already bought a snickers earlier but here he was again, suspiciously pressing buttons like he couldnât decide between m&ms or kitkat, when the truth was he didnât give a shit about chocolate. he just wanted to âaccidentallyâ run into you.
and then it happened. you came through the door, head down, digging through your bag for your keys. he froze with a kitkat half dangling from the machine slot, suddenly feeling like heâd been caught doing something illegal. you finally looked up and your face lit up with that same smile you always gave him, like he wasnât the guy who called you pet and jerked off every night to your bratty texts. he felt that familiar kick in his chest, the one that made him insane because it wasnât just sexual. sure, you drove him crazy with how much he wanted to fuck you, but there was more. he liked you, like actually liked you, and that was worse somehow. mutt-level disaster, horny as hell but also weirdly in awe every time you looked at him like that.
âwhat are you doing here?â you asked, eyebrow raised, smile playing like you already knew the answer.
âuh, just grabbing something from the vending machine,â he said, holding up the kitkat like it was evidence. smooth.
you gave a small smirk, clearly not buying it, but you didnât call him out. instead, you shifted your bag on your shoulder and said, âcome on, i need to grab something from my dorm. sunoo is waiting for me at the libraryâ
he followed, trying to act casual even though his brain was on fire. his heart was racing, not just because maybe something could happen, but because he had no idea how to handle actually being around you in real life. so when you opened the door to your dorm, he stepped inside and it was like stepping straight into your head. everything screamed you.
âyou want coffee?â you asked, already moving toward your tiny coffee setup.
âiâm good,â he said, hands stuffed in his pockets.
âwell, iâm making some anyway. i canât function without coffee after lunch.â
he leaned against the wall, watching you move around, trying not to think too hard about how bad he wanted something to happen. like, yeah, he could just sit here and drink coffee with you and thatâd be fine, but at the same time, every cell in his body was screaming that he wanted more. he was running through a dozen different scenarios in his head, every single one ending with him in your bed.
you sat down on the couch with your coffee, legs crossed, and jake stayed planted against the wall, staring at you. you looked up at him, those doe eyes soft and ridiculous, and asked, âwhatâs up? you not gonna sit?â
he swallowed, felt his chest flip, and thought, oh my god iâm about to do something dumb, but then he just did it. he dropped to his knees right in front of you, which made you blink, because nobody ever kneeled in front of you unless they were messing around. now you were exactly eye level with him, and that felt like a weird, intense pause. you raised one brow. âwhat are you doing?â
he gave that stupid smirk he always used when he wanted to sound like he knew what he was doing. âroleplaying,â he said, like it was the most normal explanation in the world.
you laughed, set your mug down on the side table, and then came back to him, serious for a second. âjake⊠are you sure you want this?â
he blinked, because of course he was sure. âare you kidding? i think i made it pretty obvious.â
you watched him for a beat, like you were checking him out, âi want you to be comfortable testing something youâve never done before,â you said.
âiâm comfortable,â he answered, eyes locked on yours. âyou comfortable?â
you let out a small, low laugh and relaxed against the back of the couch and spread your legs a little so he had room, shifted so your knees were wider, like you trusted him to handle whatever came next. âvery,â you said, voice steady, challenge hiding under the calm.
he smiled, the kind that was more confident than heâd felt in weeks, and slid his hand up to rest on your knee, fingers pressing the inside of your thigh as he edged closer. he kept his touch soft at first, like he was checking the water temperature, then moved a little higher, deliberate but not rough, watching you for every little reaction. âyou got me down bad for you,â he murmured, a bit proud, but pissed off at how much he wanted you.
you rolled your eyes, amused and dangerous. âthen why are you taking so long to take whatâs yours?â you teased, voice quiet and sharp.
so the moment he caught your eyes flicking down to his mouth, he decided he wasnât gonna make this easy for you. in one quick motion he slid his hands behind your thighs, gripped hard, and just picked you up like you weighed nothing. before you could even gasp heâd flipped the whole situation â he was on the couch now, you on his lap, straddling him. you let out this sharp little yelp, more surprise than anything, and the second you realized the position, you went quiet. his hands were holding your thighs tight, his bulge pressed right under you.
âiâve been dreaming about you sitting on my lap like this,â he said.
âyeah?â you breathed out, lowering your face closer to his, testing him. you shifted your hips just enough to grind against him through the layers of clothes, and that made his fingers dig in, holding you down so you couldnât keep moving.
âbehave, wonât you?â he muttered, his voice flat but loaded.
that made you smirk. âwhat, jakey? i thought you wanted this,â you whined, tilting your voice into that bratty little tease you knew would get him worked up. and then you were grinding on him again, slower this time, just to push.
his grip on your thighs went rough, firm enough youâd probably see the marks later, and you leaned forward like you werenât fazed at all. he was smiling now, biting his lip, annoyed and turned on beyond reason. âgive me a kiss before i put you in your place,â he said, like it was some casual request, but you both knew it wasnât.
you were still smirking when you leaned in, noses almost brushing, clearly waiting to see how far you could stretch him before he snapped. jake thought, yeah, this girl is gonna ruin me, but he wasnât about to let you see that written on his face. he just held you tighter and kept that cocky little grin, watching you lean in with the most torturous pace ever.
and when you did, you kissed him slow, dragging it out like you wanted to prove a point, and he kissed you back like heâd been training for this exact moment, tongue slipping into your mouth like it belonged there. heâd imagined this a hundred times, maybe more, but in reality it was so much better. when you started grinding down on him again, all drawn out and teasing, he caught your lower lip between his teeth, tugged, then went right back in. he didnât stop until he had to pull away just to breathe, drunk on you, trailing down your jaw with his mouth, nipping and kissing until he got to your neck.
the second he heard that tiny whimper spill out of you, he fucking lost it. his hand came up, not soft, cupping your chin, tilting your head so you were forced to look at him. you smirked at him, and it made him growl out, âyouâre so fucking hot.â before you could toss some bratty reply back, he cut you off. âkneel for me.â
you hesitated just a beat, smirking, like you were about to be clever. but then you surprised him, you actually obeyed, slipping off his lap and sinking to the floor in front of him. his chest felt tight watching you like that, hair a little messy, looking up at him from the floor. he leaned forward, spread his legs a little wider, and let out this low laugh. âgood girl,â he said, steady. then he added, âhands on your knees. look up at me.â you did it, but with that smirk like you were humoring him, not surrendering. he arched a brow. âwhatâs with that look?â
âwhat look?â you asked, voice all fake innocence, eyes wide.
âthe one thatâs begging me to make you behave,â he shot back. his hand went to your hair, not pulling hard, just testing. you didnât flinch, you leaned into it. âsay please,â he said next.
you tilted your head, lips parting. âplease what?â
âdonât play with me,â he warned, squeezing the back of your neck lightly.
you laughed, bratty and breathless. âyou donât even know what you want me to say please for, jakey.â
he groaned, like you were already driving him insane. âjesus christ, youâre a handful.â
you beamed, proud of yourself. âam i not your favorite little handful though?â
he gave a dry laugh, leaning forward, eyes locked on you. âyeah, you are. and youâre gonna regret milking that.â his thumb brushed your lower lip, pressing down just enough to make your mouth part. âopen up,â he said. you stuck out your tongue in response, rolling your eyes like you were daring him to do something. âgod, youâre such a brat,â he muttered, shaking his head but clearly loving every second. âdonât worry. iâll train you right.â
jake already knew he was too deep in this to stop now, so when his thumb pressed harder into your lip and you opened wider, he spit right into your mouth without thinking twice. you blinked at him, a little shocked. âswallow it all,â heâd said, and you did, no hesitation. he could see it hit you too, the way your shoulders shifted, that look in your eyes flipping. that was the first time any guy had done that to you, and jake clocked the moment you gave in a little, the brat suddenly turning pliant.Â
he smirked, dragged his thumb out of your mouth and replaced it with his index finger, pushing against your tongue. âsuck.â you did, lips wrapping around it, tongue working slow like you wanted to torture him. he groaned, letting you do it, and then switched it up, making you take his thumb. âgood girl. now tell me what you want, pet.â
your eyes flicked up, all teasing again, and you mumbled around his thumb, âitâs hurting, jakey.â
his brain stalled for a second. wow, sheâs actually kinky as hell, he thought. he softened, brushing his free hand across your cheek. âwhatâs hurting, baby?â
you pulled his thumb out just enough to pout at him, voice dripping brat, âi need you so much it hurts.â
that one hit him straight in the gut. he was in awe, just staring at you. âaw, princess,â he said, almost laughing in disbelief. âdo you need me to take care of you?â you nodded fast, lips pushing out in a little whine. âbut,â he leaned down, pressing his forehead close to yours, âyou gotta deserve to be rewarded, you know that, right? will you behave for me?â
your nod was eager this time, quick. âi will, i promise.â
âyeah?â he said, standing up slow, eyes locked on you the whole time while his fingers went to his belt. he tugged it loose, the leather sliding through the loops while he bit his lip. your eyes tracked every movement, wide and hungry, those stupid puppy eyes making him feel feral. but the second you started to lift your hands from your thighs like you wanted to reach for him, he snapped. âuh-uh.â he pointed right at you. âwhatâd i tell you? hands on your thighs, pet.â
you huffed, clearly annoyed, but put them back exactly where he wanted. âgood girl,â he said again, dragging his zipper down nice and slow, making sure you stayed right there, waiting. he tugged his jeans and briefs down in one go, his cock springing free, thick and heavy, and the second your eyes widened he almost lost it. you actually drooled a little, lips parted, and he laughed low, cocky as ever. âyeah, like what you see, huh? big, but you can take it, right baby?âÂ
his hand landed on your head, gentle but firm, fingers threading through your hair. you pouted up at him, whining softly, âi donât know, jakey.â
he grinned like youâd just said the funniest shit in the world, brushing his thumb over your cheek. âdonât know? câmon, youâre my good girl. you can take it. i know you can. donât make me remind you.â and you nodded so fast, eager, like his words flipped some switch inside you. âsee? there she is. good girl. now⊠go slow, pretty. just lick it. like a kitty.â you leaned in, tongue shy at first, just dragging along the tip, and he hissed, hand tightening in your hair. âfuck, yeah⊠just like that. lap it up for me.â
you licked your way down his shaft, soft little flicks of your tongue, and he was going crazy, eyes screwed shut for a second, trying to hold back. âjesus fuck, look at you. youâre actually licking me like a fucking kitten. do you even know how cute you look right now?âÂ
you hummed against him, pulling back with a wet mouth and whispering, âmaybe i just wanna play with you.â
he laughed again, smug but wrecked already, giving your cheek a few pats like he was rewarding you. âplay all you want, sweetheart. just remember who owns you now. okay?â your eyes went wide at that, pupils blown, and you nodded, lips pressing back against the base of his cock, licking slow all the way up. he groaned, the sound broken. âfuck, thatâs it. my pretty pet, my good little kitty. keep showing me how bad you need it. youâre making your owner so proud.â
jake never pictured himself like this, or saying those things, not with anyone. heâd had his fun before, sure, but the fact that he was seconds away from spilling down your throat from those innocent little eyes alone? yeah, that was new. he was way more down bad than he ever admitted.
so when your tongue started moving faster, when you got bolder, sloppier, sucking him off with that bratty determination like you wanted to prove something, he groaned, hand snapping down to your hair. a sharp tug, a wet pop leaving your lips as his cock slipped free. you looked up at him, eyes wide, bottom lip sticking out in a pout.
âaw, you want more, baby?â he teased, voice ragged, trying to keep control when he was already losing it. you nodded instantly, needy, and his smile widened. âyouâre getting it, donât worry. but for nowâŠâ he leaned back on the couch, cock heavy against his stomach, and patted his thigh. âcome on, hop on.â
you did exactly that, crawling up into his lap like the little cat he kept calling you, hands pressing into the cushion as you moved, hips hovering just enough that your clothed core brushed his bare cock. the second you started to grind down, though, he didnât let you have it, he flipped you fast, pressing you down so your cheek met the couch cushion, ass up high for him. âthatâs better,â he muttered, sitting under you. the sight alone nearly ruined him, your ass arched perfectly, skirt riding up.
his fingers slid along your thighs before catching on the fabric, tugging at your skirt. âletâs take this off, mhm?â he peeled it down slow, tossing it aside, leaving you in just your panties. he let his palm rest over one cheek, rubbing soft, soothing circles, like he was calming his pet after riling her up too much. âlook at you,â he murmured, voice softer now, almost in awe. âall laid out for me. such a good girl.â his hand smoothed over your ass again before giving it a light squeeze. âstay just like this, pet. donât move unless i tell you to.â
you whined into the cushion, wiggling your hips like you were trying to bait him, and he laughed low, shaking his head. âbratty already? we talked about this, remember? ass up, face down. behave for me, or youâll wait longer.â his tone was playful, not cruel, but it still made you still, biting down your whines. he leaned in, letting his cock brush lightly against your thigh, teasing. âgood. thatâs better. see? my sweet pet can listen. and when you listen, you get rewarded.â
his hand drifted down, slow, lazy, like he had all night to play with you. two fingers pressed against the thin fabric of your panties, dragging along the damp spot he already knew heâd find. the second he felt it, he chuckled, low and pleased, rubbing small circles just to hear you react. âaw, youâre soaked right through, baby. thatâs so hot.â his tone was teasing.
you whined, pressing your face harder into the couch, your voice muffled but still clear. âonly for you.â
that made his cock twitch, he leaned forward, chest almost brushing your back, lips close to your ear. âoh yeah? only for me?â he pressed his fingers harder against the fabric, not slipping inside, just making you squirm. âthen tell me, pet. tell me what you want me to do.â
you let out a frustrated sound, trying to grind back against his hand, but he had you pinned with his thigh under your stomach, keeping you in place. âi want your fingers,â you whispered, needy.
âmy fingers, huh?â he dragged them along your slit, slow enough to make it torture. âyou want me to make you feel good with these?â he brought one up to your lips, letting you see the damp shine of your own arousal. you nodded quickly, pout forming again, and he laughed, patting your ass lightly like he was warning you. âneedy little thing. so spoiled. but since you asked so nicelyâŠâ
his fingers dipped under the waistband of your panties at last, the fabric dragging down just enough for him to slip inside and find your folds. you moaned loudly and whiny, and he swore under his breath at how wet you were, coating his fingers instantly. âfuck,â he muttered, curling one finger inside you while his other hand smoothed over your hip, keeping you steady. âthere we go. my good girl, taking me so easy. stay still for me, pet. let me play with you just like this.â
his fingers started moving faster, curling and dragging in a way that made your whole body jolt against his thigh. you yelped, louder this time, the sound bouncing in the quiet room. jake immediately leaned down, his breath brushing your ear. âquiet, pet. donât want anyone hearing, do we?â you bit your lip, tried to hold it back, but the next time his fingers pushed deeper, a sharp whimper slipped out anyway. his voice dropped. âi said quiet.â
you tried again, muffling yourself against the couch cushion, but your body betrayed you, another sound ripping through your throat when his pace picked up. and then, suddenly, he pulled his hand away completely. the emptiness made you groan, frustrated, your hips wiggling back in protest. âill have to punish you now, you know that right?â he said it calm, almost like he was explaining something obvious, but the way his hand smoothed over your ass right after made you shiver.
you tilted your head just enough to glance back at him, pouty and bratty. âmaybe i wanted you to stop.â
he raised his brows, amused, giving your ass a firm squeeze. âoh yeah? is that what youâre telling yourself?â
you wiggled again, pushing your hips back against him like you were testing his patience. âmaybe i like it better when youâre mad.â
he laughed under his breath, shaking his head, but there was heat in his eyes. âcareful, pet. youâre about to get exactly what youâre asking for.âÂ
and then his hand came down. not too hard, but enough to make your body jolt, the sound echoing sharp in the room. you gasped, and then laughed breathlessly, almost taunting. âthat all you got, jakey?â
his jaw flexed, and his hand landed again, harder this time, the smack making your skin sting. âyou really wanna test me right now?â he let out a low groan, dragging both hands over your ass before landing another quick series of spanks, steady and controlled. each one made your body jerk, and each time you made some sound that only pushed him further. âfuck,â he muttered, âyou like this too much.â
his hand smoothed over the warmth heâd left behind, fingers soothing, but then he landed one more sharp smack that made you yelp louder than before. he immediately grabbed your hair, tugging your head back just enough so you couldnât bury your face anymore. âi wanna hear you beg properly,â he said, his tone firm now, âsay youâll be good for me, and maybe iâll give you back my fingers. if notâŠâ he squeezed your ass hard, âweâre staying right here until you learn.â
the moment you opened your mouth, ready to fire back with something bratty or maybe even give in and beg, the bell rang. both of you froze, staring at each other wide-eyed.
jake blinked, still holding your hair, then muttered, âi think you were too loud?â but the way he said it wasnât teasing, wasnât even part of the game, it was just matter of fact, like he really thought your whines had carried down the hall.
you stared back at him, cheeks flushed, and scoffed. âno, i donât think so.â and then the bell rang again, even longer this time, and you panicked, scrambling, yelling âiâm coming!â towards the door.
jake almost choked, because his brain short-circuited for a second and he thought, god, i wish sheâd say that in a whole other context.
everything after that moved way too fast. one second you were half naked, bent over, bratting about his punishment, the next you were yanking your skirt back up and pulling your shirt down, your hair all messy and your lips swollen from kissing. you grabbed his pants and his wrist and dragged him towards your bedroom. he was stumbling after you, his dick still hard, bouncing against his stomach because he wasnât even wearing pants anymore, which just made the whole thing ten times more ridiculous.
âstay there, quickly, iâll be right back,â you hissed at him, shoving him into your room and throwing his pants at him while he caught them in the air.
jake stood there, half dazed, half turned on, thinking this was the most chaotic blue balls situation of his life. his cock was throbbing, his shirt was wrinkled, and he was hiding in a girlâs bedroom like a teenager.
he sat there on the edge of your bed, pantsless, staring at the door and he could hear everything clear as day. suddenly he could hear sunooâs voice carried through the dorm, cheerful and way too loud for jakeâs current situation. ây/n! i was calling you, you didnât answer. i was waiting for you at the library. i got worried!â
you sounded way too casual for someone whoâd just been spread out over the couch whining under jakeâs fingers. âoh, sorry, i dozed off. i was so tired.â
there was a pause, then sunooâs suspicious tone: âwhy are you red? and your hair looks⊠what happened?â
you snapped back instantly, âi was sleeping, i told you.â
jake, meanwhile, buried his face in his hands. jesus fucking christ. this was ridiculous. that was his cue, he quickly pulled his boxers back up, then wriggled into his jeans. because as much as his dick hated it, it was way too humiliating to sit there listening in with his bare ass on your sheets.
while he was buttoning up, his eyes wandered. your room was⊠very you. he noticed sanrio plushies stacked in the corner, a little snoopy mug on the desk with pens sticking out of it, and an actual pink and white gamer setup with a keyboard that lit up like cotton candy. he blinked at that one, he didnât even know you gamed, but apparently you did, and you did it in the most annoyingly cute way possible. it was distracting, like the whole place was a scrapbook of your personality, and he was sitting there in the middle of it half hard, listening to your best friend interrogate you in the next room.
then he heard you again, your voice a little rushed. âlet me just go to my room and fix myself up, iâll be quick.â
sunoo didnât sound convinced. âiâll come with youââ
âno, wait in the living room. were you born glued to me or something?â
âwhat theâare you crazy?â sunoo shot back, baffled.
âsunoo, let me change alone,â you said, sharper now, but still playful enough to throw him off.
jake had to bite back a laugh, shaking his head. you were juggling this so smoothly, meanwhile he looked like an idiot sitting on your bed, surrounded by stuffed animals, pretending this was normal.
and then the door cracked open and you slipped back in, closing it quickly behind you, leaving sunoo muttering to himself outside. jake was sitting there, finally dressed, looking suspicious. you let out this little laugh, low, like you couldnât believe how cute he looked sitting there stiff on your bed surrounded by your plushies. he stood up, kind of sheepish, and you just smiled at him like nothing was out of the ordinary, whispering, âim so sorry, i have to go,â with a pout that made you look more like a kid ditching class than someone who just had her ass smacked red ten minutes ago.Â
he thought you were adorable like that, so he shook his head and said, âitâs okay, i liked distracting you.â
then you leaned over and pressed a quick kiss on his lips. not hot, not horny, not dripping with tension, just a casual kiss. and thatâs what fucked him up a bit, because he never did casual kisses like that with anyone.Â
âiâll change, leave, and you can stay here, okay? iâll leave the door open so you can head out whenever. you can even get comfy if you want to, i donât mind,â you said like you were inviting him to borrow a hoodie or something. easygoing, no stress. he stood there thinking, wow, you really werenât trying to make him feel embarrassed, even though you couldâve. you couldâve outed him to sunoo in two seconds flat, but you didnât.
so you turned around, grabbed clothes, changed right there like it was nothing, and then you were gone, chatting back at sunoo.
and jake just sat there on your bed, hands on his knees, staring at the kuromi plush in the corner like it had answers. his dick was still half hard in his jeans, but his brain was louder than his body this time. he thought, holy shit, i just had the kinkiest, freakiest time of my life and somehow my dick never even got inside her once.Â
after that day, things between you and jake definitely got steamier. he was still jake, pretending he just âhappenedâ to run into you on campus, but really he was timing shit out. he knew your class schedule better than his own. sometimes heâd wait outside one of your lectures and play it off like, âoh hey, didnât know you had class here,â and then two minutes later he had you pressed against a wall making out. subtle wasnât his thing anymore.
he started hanging around your friends more too. jungwon, who he already kind of knew, turned into his partner-in-crime somehow. jake was showing up to sit at your table like he belonged there. sunoo kept giving him these looks, like he was three seconds away from calling him out, and jake swore the guy had to know something even though you promised you hadnât told him a word. it was just the way sunoo looked at himâ suspicious as hell.
and the thing was, jake couldnât really keep his hands off you. youâd be standing in line at the vending machine and heâd pull you aside to kiss you like he hadnât seen you in a year. in between classes heâd tug you down some hallway and youâd laugh, telling him to chill, but youâd still kiss him back. the parking lot was another story. he kissed you once against your car, his hand already halfway down the back of your jeans, when someone walked by and you had to shove him off, both of you laughing.
the thing is, none of it ever went further than hot kisses and some wandering hands. it wasnât full-on sex, not yet. and that was what was killing jake slowly. he was losing his mind because youâd give him just enough: enough roleplay, enough teasing, enough touching to keep him hooked, but never the whole thing. every time you whispered something bratty in his ear or let him grab your waist in the middle of campus, he wanted you more. and the more he got, the less satisfied he felt, because it only made him hungrier.
so he came up with this plan. he wanted to make it special, and he couldnât quite figure out why he cared so much. the timing lined up with jungwonâs birthday, just a small gathering at his place with close friends. jake was invited, obviously, him and jungwon were basically glued at the hip now. so he offered to pick you up.
when you got into his car that night, jake didnât even wait a beat. you barely closed the door before he leaned over, caught your chin, and kissed you. it wasnât rushed though, he kissed you slow, deep, like heâd been starving all week. you kissed him back, let him taste you for a second, before pulling away with a laugh. âjake, weâre gonna be late,â you said.
he smirked and said âworth it.â then, just to make your stomach flip, he grabbed your other hand and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles before starting the engine. jake kept sneaking looks at you, thumb brushing your hand where it rested in his. when you arrived at jungwonâs, jake slipped his hand to your lower back as you both walked inside, guiding you.
the whole night, jake barely left your side. if you went to the kitchen, he was there leaning against the counter, sipping from his cup, making stupid commentary. if you sat down, he took the spot next to you, knee brushing yours. it wasnât possessive, not even official, but he hovered like a guy on a date, even though neither of you had ever said that word out loud. and the thing was, you let him.
sometimes your friends would tease â sunoo gave you this knowing look across the room at one point â but you brushed it off. the real issue wasnât what people thought. it was that every time jake leaned in close to whisper something dumb in your ear, every time his fingers brushed against yours under the table, you wanted him so bad it made you dizzy. and judging by the way he kept staring at your mouth all night, he was having the same problem.
when the party ended, he offered you a ride back to your place, and at the elevator going down in jungwonâs building, he already couldnât hold it. the doors closed, the silence hit, and he cornered you right there, pressing you against the wall before you could even blink. his mouth was on yours, hot and messy, your little whine breaking between the kisses making his head spin. you tugged at his shirt, and he groaned into your mouth like heâd been waiting for this all damn night.
he pulled back just enough to breathe, lips still brushing yours, and whispered, âcome to my place, please.â he didnât even think before saying it. it just spilled out.
you didnât even hesitate. you just nodded, whispered âokay,â and kissed him again like you couldnât wait either.
the car ride was a whole other mess. his hand was glued to your thigh, fingers sliding higher and you werenât doing anything to stop him. he kept smirking at you, leaning close enough to murmur shit like, âyouâre so needy, arenât you?â or âyouâve been teasing me for weeks, baby. you think iâm letting you off easy tonight?â and every time, youâd bite your lip and nod, your bratty side slipping but not disappearing entirely.
by the time he pulled into the driveway, you were both buzzing. he didnât even bother with slow steps once you got inside. the moment the door shut, he pressed you against it hard, kissing you. one hand held your waist, the other grabbed your wrist and guided it straight to his bulge through his jeans. âsee?â he panted against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours. âthis is what you do to me.â
and you felt it hard and heavy under your palm, and the way you looked up at him, wide eyed and needy, just about made him lose his mind right there.
he didnât even give you a second to think. he was now scooping you up, you gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he carried you down the hall like heâd done it a hundred times before. except he hadnât, and he was going crazy about the fact that it was you in his arms. he kissed you the whole way, sloppy, greedy kisses that landed half on your lips and half on your jaw because he refused to stop even while moving.
by the time he made it to his room, he basically tossed you onto the bed. he climbed on after you, settling between your legs like he was claiming his spot. âââopen up for me,â he said, and you did, spreading your thighs wide, and the way he looked at you like that nearly made you combust. he grabbed your leg, lifted it, and started kissing up from your ankle, slow and deliberate, leaving wet trails on your skin until he was nipping at your inner thigh.Â
âiâve been dying to have you like this,â he murmured against your skin, and then looked up at you, eyes dark, âyouâre mine, arenât you?â you were too far gone to answer, your head falling back, a whimper spilling out instead. that wasnât enough for him. âanswer me, pet,â he demanded, giving your thigh a squeeze.
you nodded desperately, voice breaking as you whispered, âi canât take it anymore, jakey. i need you.â
he smirked, brushing his lips right where you were the most sensitive but not giving you what you wanted yet. âi got you something,â he said, and just like that, he pulled back.
you blinked up at him, confused and needy, while he turned to his nightstand. he pulled the drawer open and, without much hesitation, pulled out a pair of shiny handcuffs. âoooh,â you laughed, your cheeks heating, but there was excitement in your voice.
the thing was, jake had been planning this longer than he cared to admit. last week, he had walked into the little sex shop near campus and walked out with a small bag of things he wasnât sure heâd ever actually use. he told himself it was âjust in case,â even though deep down he was already picturing you.
the shop itself had been an experience. he walked in like he belonged there, but the second he saw all the shelves stacked with vibrators, butt plugs, leather collars, and some shit he didnât even know the name of, he nearly turned around. he swore the old lady behind the counter was judging him, even though it was literally her job. jake had grabbed the handcuffs, lingered a little too long in front of the section with leashes and collars, and even picked up a blindfold before chickening out and putting it back.
he paid fast as hell, shoved the bag in his backpack, and prayed no one he knew would walk past the store. and now here he was, finally pulling the cuffs out.Â
he looked back at you on his bed, all spread out and waiting, and thought, holy shit, i actually bought this for her. iâm really about to do this. âdo you want that?â he asked, voice low, holding the cuffs up so they caught the light.
your stomach flipped. you couldnât stop the bratty little grin curling at your lips, couldnât stop the way your thighs shifted like you already knew what was coming. âyes,â you whispered, your voice just breathless enough to make his smirk turn sharp.
âfuck,â he muttered, shaking his head like you were too much, âyouâre so dirty, arenât you?â
before you could even think of something smart to throw back at him, he was already climbing over you, grabbing your wrists and snapping the cuffs around them, locking them together above your head. the metal was cool, firm, and you shivered when you felt it click. ââhe spread your thighs wider with a slow push, his hand on your knee like he owned every inch of you.Â
âstay still, or iâll punish you,â he said, and it was low, commanding, no room for play in it. you whined, hips already twitching up toward him without your permission. âbehave,â he warned, shooting you a look that made you clamp your lips shut, âalready told you.â
he reached down, tugged your skirt off, tossing it aside so you were bare under his gaze. he kissed along your inner thigh, slow and messy, lips dragging up your skin, making you squirm even though you tried so hard to stay still like he told you to. when his mouth got close enough to your panties, he pressed his face against the heat of you, inhaling, and you heard him groan low in his throat. âmy bunny smells so fucking good,â he muttered, almost like he was drunk on it already.
âyour bunny?â you whispered, testing the word, voice shaky.
he smirked against you, looking up through his lashes. âyeah, mine. my pet. my bunny.â something in you melted, and you couldnât stop yourself from nodding, tugging uselessly at the cuffs. âwhat does my pet want?â he teased, his voice dropping lower, his lips brushing the fabric of your panties as he spoke. âwant me to eat you out, hm?â
you nodded desperately, the words tumbling out of you, âpleaseâjake, please.â
he tilted his head, pretending to think about it, then tapped your thigh. âaw, you deserve it, donât you? youâve been so obedient.â
you whimpered, nodding, whispering, âyes, yes, i deserve it, pleaseââ
and then he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanked them down in one quick move, tossing them to the floor. âfuck, look at you,â he murmured, leaning down to kiss just above your heat, deliberately avoiding your clit while you squirmed beneath him. âdrooling for me already. my perfect little bunny.â you tugged at the cuffs, frustrated, whining his name. he chuckled against your thigh, the sound vibrating through your skin. âpatience, baby. iâll give you what you want when iâm ready.â
and then, finally, he licked a slow stripe up your folds, and your whole body jolted. you moaned, loud and messy, your back arching as his tongue pressed deeper, as he lapped you up like heâd been starving for it. he groaned into you, âthatâs it,â he mumbled against you, licking you again and again, âmake those pretty noises for me. let everyone know who you belong to.â
his tongue was everywhere, sliding, circling, pressing against your clit just right before pulling away, dragging down to lick into you, greedy and messy. his hands were firm on your thighs, holding them open wide, keeping you spread for him like you had no choice but to take it. you were whimpering, tugging at the cuffs, your chest rising and falling fast. âplease, jakeââ
he groaned into your pussy, the sound vibrating against you, making your hips jerk. he pulled back just enough to smirk up at you, lips and chin wet. âsay it properly, pet. you wanna cum? beg for it.â
your face burned, but the desperation in your voice gave you away. âplease let me cum, i need it, i need you, please, please, iâll be goodââ
he laughed low, then pressed his tongue flat against your clit, making your head fall back. âyouâre gonna cum when i say, okay, bunny?â
you nodded frantically, whining, âokay, okay, iâll wait, iâll waitââ
but your body betrayed you. the way he sucked on your clit, the way he lapped you up like he wanted to drink you dry, it was too much. your thighs shook, your whole body tensed, and then you broke apart, cumming hard into his mouth before he even gave the word. you cried out his name, the cuffs rattling above your head as you tried to ground yourself, and he didnât stop. he kept licking, messier now, tongue fucking you while you were still trembling, overstimulated, every nerve raw. you tried to squirm away, but his grip was too strong, holding your thighs wide open, his mouth still working you like you were his.
when he finally pulled back, his lips shiny, his breathing heavy, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then crawled up over you. his hand caught your chin, firm and unyielding, forcing your face up to look at him. âdid you just cum without my permission?â he asked, his voice dark, his eyes locked on yours.
you bit your lip, trying not to smile, bratty even with your chest heaving. âyeah, what you gonna do?â
his grip on your chin tightened just a little, his smirk sharp, dangerous. âyouâre about to fucking find out, bitch.â
the word made your eyes widen, a flash of surprise mixed with the way your stomach twisted with heat. he saw it, of course he did, and it only made his grin curl wider. without saying anything else, he freed you from the cuffs, and then he reached over to his drawer again, sliding it open, and soon after you felt him turn you over, pressing you chest down into the mattress. his hand slid along the back of your neck as he fastened something firm around your throat. a collar.
âif you wanna act like my bitch,â he muttered close to your ear, tugging on it once to test the fit, âmaybe iâll just put a leash on you.â your body shivered at the sound of it, and you let out a whine muffled against the sheets. he gave you a second to breathe before pushing off the bed, standing tall. âget off the bed,â he ordered, his voice steady but sharp. âkneel on the floor. hands on your thighs. like i taught you.â
you moved quickly, scrambling off the mattress, and the second your knees hit the floor, you dropped into position, head slightly bowed, palms flat against your thighs. you felt the weight of the collar with every breath, heavy, real. jake sat back on the edge of the bed, legs spread just enough, elbows resting loosely on his knees. he looked down at you for a long moment, letting the silence sit, letting you squirm under his gaze. then his hand came out, patting the top of your head like he was rewarding a pet.
âyou look so fucking pretty in a collar,â he said, his tone low, rough. âacting so obedient now. not so bratty anymore, huh?â your lips parted, but you stayed quiet, because you knew better now. he leaned back a little, watching you stay perfectly still on your knees in front of him. the collar sat snug on your neck, and he let his fingers trace over it like he was reminding you who put it there.
âgood girl,â he said slowly, almost teasing. âbut letâs see if you actually learned something.â his hand came down, tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his eyes. âyou want me to let you touch me?â
âyes, please,â you whispered immediately, your voice shaky but eager.
he smirked, clearly satisfied with that, but still not giving in. instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your face. âtell me what you are.â
your eyes flickered, nervous but turned on. âiâm your pet.â
his grin stretched wide. âand what does my pet want right now?â
your body squirmed as you shifted on your knees, thighs pressing together, heat pooling low. âi want to please you.â
âhm,â he hummed, tilting his head. âyou want my cock in your mouth, donât you?â
âmhm, yes, so bad.â you said whiny.
he raised a brow, clearly enjoying dragging it out. âwhy should i let you?â
you whined, the sound spilling out without you meaning to, and he chuckled low. âplease, jake⊠iâll be good, i promise.â
he leaned forward again, his lips brushing against your ear. âbeg properly, pet.â
your hands clenched against your thighs, nails digging into your skin as you whispered quickly, desperate, âplease let me suck your cock, i need it, iâll be good, iâll do it how you like, just please.â
he smirked like heâd been waiting for that exact moment, thumb dragging over your bottom lip again before pulling his hand away completely. âopen my pants.â ââyour hands shot forward instantly, fumbling just a little with the button and zipper, pulling them down slowly, careful, like you knew he was watching your every move. he shifted his hips up to help, letting you slide the fabric down enough, and when his cock sprang free, thick and already hard, he grabbed the back of your head, forcing you to look at it.
âthere it is,â he muttered, his tone sharp. âthe thing youâve been begging for.â you licked your lips, eyes wide, but you stayed frozen until he gave the word. he smirked again, tugging your hair gently. âgo on, pet. show me how good you can be.â
you started slow, almost too slow, your lips brushing against the tip first, tongue flicking against the slit while your hand wrapped around the base. jake groaned right away, his head tipping back as his fingers tightened in your hair. âfuck⊠youâre really gonna tease me now?â his voice was low, almost strained, but you didnât speed up. you flattened your tongue along the underside and dragged it down, taking your time, making him twitch against your lips.
you slowly pushed him deeper into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, but still holding back, pulling off every few seconds just to lick around his head again. drool was already starting to wet your chin, and the sight made him groan even louder. âshit⊠look at you. on your knees, drooling for me.â he tugged harder on your hair, guiding you back down, and you let him.
he held you there, watching you take him slow, your throat stretching around him as you gagged softly, eyes watering a little. that sound made him grit his teeth. âfuck, you like this, donât you?â he muttered, his voice harsh now. âmhm? you like choking on my cock like a good little bitch?â
you moaned around him, the vibrations sending a shiver through his body. he pulled you off suddenly, saliva dripping from your lips, and forced you to look at him. âanswer me,â he demanded, his grip unrelenting.
you gasped, your voice weak but clear. âyes, yes! i like it.â
he smirked, his thumb smearing your spit over your lips. âdamn⊠you like the whole thing, donât you? degradation too?â
before you could answer, he pushed you back down, this time not letting you go at your own pace. he thrusted up into your mouth, using your head like a handle, fucking your throat without mercy. your gagging filled the room, tears streaming down your cheeks as you gasped for breath between strokes. âthatâs it, baby,â he groaned, his hips snapping up harder, faster. âtake it. take it all like the dumb little slut you are.â
you clawed at his thighs, not to push him away but to hold on, and he laughed breathlessly. âjesus christ, youâre sick for this. my obedient pet one second, my dirty slut the next. fuck, iâm never letting you go.â he shoved himself deeper, until your nose pressed against his skin, and held you there, watching your throat work around him. you gagged, choked, saliva spilling everywhere, but you didnât fight it, you let him use you, collar tight against your neck, and it drove him fucking insane.
he drove himself until he lost it, groaning your name as he came, and the warm, filthy flood hit the back of your throat. you gagged around him, eyes wide, stomach tightening as his hips convulsed, and when he finally slowed and stilled you swallowed reflexively, shaking, tasting him on your tongue.
he watched you the whole time, chest heaving, and then he pulled out. you were breathing hard, cheeks flushed. he scooped you up with this sudden tenderness that almost felt comical after the roughness, picked you up like you were light as a feather and carried you back to the bed.Â
you lay there as he settled down beside you, and his hands were all soft now. he kissed your face like he was making up for everything, trailing from your mouth down to your collarbone, lingering, then along your arm to your hand where he actually sucked on your fingers for a beat, ridiculous and sweet and wildly out of sync with what heâd been doing minutes before.
âmy baby did so good,â he murmured against your skin, voice full of something that wasnât only lust. âyou treated me so well.â
you were breathless and whining, voice small and needy. he smiled into your neck, tasting you again, and you felt both stupid and right to be lost in the softness after the dirty stuff. his praise kept coming, until, in a quick motion that made your heart jump, he shifted behind you so your back pressed into his chest. he folded you into him, one arm wrapping under your ribs, the other finding your legs and holding them open wide.
âiâm gonna reward you now, okay?â he said into your hair, voice steady. âi feel bad for being mean to my bunny.â there was a teasing edge but also actual warmth. you could feel him hard against the small of your back, steady.
he cupped your thighs, fingers warm, and brushed a palm over your slick where heâd made you come earlier, slow, deliberate. you squirmed, he kissed the back of your ear, then whispered, âdo you want my fingers again? or do you want me inside you?â
you looked back over your shoulder, eyes bright, tiny smirk slipping through the haze. âi want you,â you breathed.
he hummed, pleased, and his hand slid between your legs, fingers parting you easily. he started with one finger, slow, pressing in and curling gently, testing, then adding a second as you moaned into his shirt. his thumb found your clit, rubbing in easy circles while his fingers worked inside you, a steady, confident rhythm that built you back up from the edges. âthatâs it,â he praised, low and rough. âsuch a good girl. take it for me.â
you were trembling, the combination of his fingers and the proximity of his cock against your back making everything too much. you whined, hips rocking, chasing more, and he laughed softly, biting at your shoulder. âyou make the dumbest little noises when i touch you. itâs almost embarrassing how much you need me.â
his thumb pressed harder, fingers curling deep, and your whole body shook, forehead falling against his shoulders. he kissed the back of your neck, lips dragging over the collar around your throat, his breath hot against your skin. then his voice dropped darker, meaner, right in your ear. âdo you want my cock inside you, hm?â you whined and nodded, and his fingers slowed, teasing, holding you on edge. âask me nicely, pet.â
you squirmed, chest heaving, and finally whispered, âplease, jake, i want it. i want your cock, pleaseââ
he groaned low, his grip tightening on your waist. âthatâs my girl. begging so sweet.â he lifted you up just a little, enough to line himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your soaked entrance. he didnât push in right away. instead, he held you there, rubbing himself through your folds, letting you feel how hard he was. âfeel that? all yours if you behave.â you whined and tried to sink down, but his hands stopped you. he breathed against your ear again. âslow. iâm gonna make you take it slow.â
inch by inch, he guided you down onto him, your body stretching around him, every second dragging out. he held your hips steady, forcing you to feel every bit of him sliding in. your moans filled the room, shaky and raw, and he kissed the side of your neck, whispering, âgood girl. youâre doing so good for me.â
he bottomed out finally, keeping you still, cock buried deep inside you while his arm locked you in place. his lips pressed to your collar, then your ear. âstay right here. donât move. let me feel you.âÂ
you could feel the way his chest rose sharp against your back, the way he was fighting to breathe steady. his forehead dropped to your shoulder, and for a moment he didnât move at all, just holding you there, stuffed full, his heavy cock twitching inside you. âfuck,â he groaned, low and broken, like heâd been waiting forever for this. his hand dragged down your thigh, squeezing tight. âyou donât know how long i wanted this. how bad.â his hips shifted just a little, not even pulling out, just grinding deeper into you, chasing more of your heat.
when he finally started to move, it was slow, dragging himself out a few inches and sliding back in just as carefully. the stretch made both of you gasp. he kissed your shoulder, your neck, muttering, âfuck, you feel perfect. so tight.â his thighs shifted under you, his body adjusting. he pressed his feet into the mattress, grounding himself, and the new leverage let him sink back in harder. the bed creaked with the movement, his grip on your waist tightening.
his thrusts picked up, still controlled but deeper, faster, each one hitting with more force. the sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, his breath rough in your ear. his rhythm built steady, more sure with every thrust, the need heâd been holding back finally breaking through as he fucked into you from below, hips snapping up against you.
âthatâs it,â he growled against your ear, voice ragged. âtake it. take my cock, pet. bounce on it.â his free hand slid down your front, fingers finding your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make you jolt. you whined, back arching into his chest, and he laughed low, mean but so turned on. âlook at youâ you love when i rub your clit while i fuck you stupid, donât you?â
your answer came out broken, just a mess of yes and please, and he rewarded you by pressing harder, rubbing tight circles while still driving his cock into you rough and deep. âgood girl,â he panted, his lips brushing the side of your neck, wet from his kisses. âyouâre mine. my sweet bunny, taking me so well.â
he slowed just enough to shift you, his hands sliding down your sides as he pulled out of you. you were still shaking when he turned you around, moving you onto his lap so you were straddling him, knees on either side of his hips. his cock brushed against you, wet and hot, as he guided you down onto him again, inch by inch, until you were seated fully, face to face.
his eyes locked with yours, dark and heavy. âthatâs better,â he murmured, breathless. âi want to see you while you ride me.â he grabbed your hips, steadying you, then started rolling them forward, showing you the rhythm he wanted. âmove, puppy,â he said quietly, voice rough. âshow me how you ride.â
you began to move, slow at first, your hands pressed to his chest. his palms slid up your sides, then cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened under his touch. he squeezed, played, tugged gently, making you moan. âlook at my pretty pet,â he said, fingers teasing your nipples while his hips pushed up into you. âbouncing on my cock so good. does it feel good, pup?â
you whined in answer, head tipping back, and he reached up and caught the collar at your throat, fingers curling in the strap to pull you back down until your faces were inches apart. âcloser,â he ordered. âright here. eyes on me, baby.â
his grip on the collar held you steady as you rode him, your breasts moving in his hands. he pinched your nipples again, rolling them between his fingers while he thrust up into you, forcing another whimper from your throat. your nails dug into his shoulders as you tried to move on him, the stretch making your breath come out in shaky little sounds. your forehead dropped to his, eyes squeezed shut.
âjakeâ-â you whispered, voice breaking. âitâs too much. youâre too bigâŠâ
his smirk flickered, a small groan in his chest as he pulled a little on your collar to make you look at him. âaww,â he said, low. âbut you can take it, canât you? slow down, baby. donât run from it. let it in.â
you nodded, trembling, and started to roll your hips slower, dragging yourself up and down his length inch by inch. the shift made it even deeper, and you gasped, biting your lip. jake leaned back, eyes fixed on you, and put both hands behind his head, elbows out, like he was watching a show. his cock twitched inside you as you tried to keep the rhythm, struggling a little at how full you felt.
he let out a quiet, cruel laugh. âcanât even take all of it without whining. you love it, though. you love how big i am.â you whimpered, hips moving slower, trying to adjust, and he tilted his head, smirk growing wider. âthatâs right. ride it nice and slow. so tight around me. so small. look at you struggling on my cock like that, fuck, so hotââ
you slowed down on purpose, hips rolling even slower than before, your hands pressing against his chest like you were testing him. your eyes caught his as you bit your lip, that bratty look on your face making him groan. he tugged at the collar just enough to make you jolt. âdonât play with me, pup.â his voice was low, sharp. âyou think i wonât punish you?â
you tilted your head and moved even slower, your nails dragging down his stomach. âmaybe i want you to.â your voice was soft, teasing, a little whine under it.
his jaw flexed. âoh, you want to act up?â he sat up, one hand gripping your hip tight. âyouâre just begging for it, arenât you.â he pulled the collar again, making you lean closer to his face. âsay it. say you want me to punish you.â
you let out a small sound and whispered, âi want it.â
he smirked. âgood.â with a quick motion he flipped you off his lap and onto the bed, stomach down. his palm pressed between your shoulder blades, keeping you down while he shifted behind you. âhands and knees. now.â you scrambled to obey, getting on all fours, the collar still around your neck, your hair falling into your face. his hand slid down your back and squeezed your ass. âstay like that. donât move until i tell you.â
you were already whining softly, arching a little. âlook at you,â he said, voice darker now. âdo you want me to punish you for real?â you nodded, still on your hands and knees. âsay it.â
âi want you to punish me.â
his palm landed on your ass in a sharp smack, not too hard but enough to make you gasp. âthatâs what i thought.â his other hand slid between your thighs, fingers teasing just close enough to where you wanted him but not touching. âmy little bunny likes acting up so she can get punished, huh?â
âyesââ you whispered, squirming under him.
âthen stay still.â he pressed himself against you, his cock sliding along your folds but not pushing in yet, just rubbing enough to make you moan. âthis is what happens when youâre bratty, pup. you get teased until youâre dripping. you want it now? want me to fuck you like this?â
âplease,â you whined, pushing back a little.
he grabbed your hips hard. âask properly.â
âplease fuck me, please punish me,â you said, voice breaking.
he chuckled, low and rough. âgood girl. now youâre talking.â he gave another slow thrust against you, still not entering, his fingers circling your clit. âtell me what you are.â
âiâm your pet,â you gasped.
âlouder.â
âiâm your pet!â
he groaned at the sound, leaning down to speak right into your ear. âfuck yeah you areâ his hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he lined himself up, the tip of his cock pressing against you but still waiting, making you squirm even more. his smirk was audible in his voice. ânow iâm gonna show you what happens when youâre bratty, pet.â
he slid forward suddenly, both hands gripping your hips hard enough to make you gasp. before you could whine another word he pushed your face down into the mattress, palm on the back of your head, making you arch with your ass up and your cheek pressed to the sheets. âthis is where you belong when youâre acting like a brat,â he growled. âface down, ass up.â his other hand came down on your ass again, sharper this time, making you let out a choked moan.
you tried to lift your head but his palm kept you there. âstay down. donât look at me. pets donât look at their owner unless theyâre told to.â
âfuckkââ you whimpered, voice muffled by the sheets.
he slammed the rest of the way in with one rough thrust, making you cry out against the mattress. âthatâs it. take it. youâre just a little bunny for me to fuck, arenât you?â
âyesââ
he started moving, rough thrusts, his hips slamming into you while his fingers dug into your skin. âfuck, listen to you,â he snarled between breaths. âwhining like a toy. you like when i use you like this? you like being my bitch?â he gave another sharp slap to your ass, then slid his hand up to grab your hair, yanking your head back just enough to hear you gasp. âsay it.â
âi like being your bitchââ
he groaned and slammed into you harder, his cock hitting deep, his hand still tangled in your hair, and his thrusts picked up pace, rough and unrelenting, his free hand sliding between your legs to circle your clit while he fucked you from behind. âyouâre gonna cum when i tell you. until then youâre just a hole for me to use, you understand?â you whimpered something incoherent and he smirked, fingers still working your clit. âwhat? canât even talk now? my little petâs gone all dumb on my cock?â
âyesââ you managed to gasp, hips trembling.
he chuckled darkly and slid his other over until his thumb pressed against your asshole. he didnât push, just rubbed in slow circles while still thrusting into you. the sound you made was almost a squeak. your hips jerked and he felt it immediately. he pushed a little harder with his thumb, still circling, testing. âohhh,â he said low, voice heavy with amusement, âyou like that too, huh?â
you buried your face in the sheets and nodded. âfucking dirty little puppy,â he growled, pressing his thumb a little deeper, then pulling back to circle again. âgetting wet while i play with your ass. youâre so fucking filthy. is that what you want? you want me to fuck your ass too?â
âyes, fuck, jakeââ you said again, voice high and shaking.
he leaned down, lips brushing your ear, thumb pressing just a bit harder. âfuck, youâre unreal. begging for more when youâre already full.â you whimpered again, hips pushing back against him without thinking. âtell me how bad you want it,â he ordered, his cock sliding slow inside you while his thumb teased your ass. âtell me youâre my dirty bunny and you want me to take you wherever i want.â
you gasped, âi want you to take meâpleaseââ
ânot enough,â he said, thrusting a little harder, his thumb pressing a little deeper. âsay exactly what you want.â
âplease use me, please fuck meââ
he smirked against your ear. âuse you where?â
âfuck my pussyâpleaseââ
âand?â he pressed.
âplay with my assâpleaseââ
his laugh was low and sharp. âyouâre fucking unreal.â his thrusts got faster, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the room. his thumb slipped just inside your ass now, shallow, teasing, while his cock filled you completely.
âoh fuckââ you cried out, your voice cracking.
he pulled your head up by your hair, forcing you to arch your back. âlook at you,â he muttered, âfucking begging to be filled from both sides. youâre my dirty little bunny, arenât you?â
âyes,â you whined, âiâm your bunny, pleaseââ
âwhat do you want now?â
âi want to cum,â you begged, voice shaking. âplease, i need toââ
he slowed down, almost stopped, his thumb still moving at your ass. âyouâre gonna cum when i say, pet. got it?â
âplease,â you cried, hips trembling, âplease let meââ
he leaned down to your ear, still holding your hair tight. âask me right. say you want your owner to let you cum.â
you gasped, âplease let me cum, please, pleaseââ
his cock slammed into you again, hard enough to make you cry out. âagain.â
âplease let me cum,â you sobbed, âplease let me cumââ
he finally lost it, his thumb pressing deeper, his cock pounding into you rough. âfuck, youâre so fucking perfectâcum. now. do it.â
you broke with a loud moan, your whole body shaking as you came around him, clenching so hard he had to grip your hips to hold you steady. he didnât slow down, his thrusts got even rougher while you were still coming. his voice dropped low, almost a growl. âyou like this, bunny? you want me to fill you too? want me to pump you full?â
you whimpered a weak âyesââ still trembling.
âsay it right,â he said, still thrusting. âsay you want me to breed you.â
âi want you to breed me,â you gasped, your voice breaking. âplease fill meââ
he bit your shoulder lightly, his thumb still at your ass, his cock slamming into you harder and faster. âfuckââ he groaned, âkeep saying it.â
âplease breed me, please fill me up, iâm your puppy, pleaseââ
he lost whatever control he had left. his hips snapped hard, one final thrust burying him deep inside you, his breath coming out as a rough moan. âfuckââ he hissed, his cock pulsing as he spilled into you, still grinding against you to push it deeper. he stayed there, pressed against your back, his hand still on your hair, his thumb still teasing your ass while he twitched inside you, panting against your ear. âgood fucking girl,â he muttered, voice hoarse.
you were still shaking, whimpering quietly, your body soft under him. he kissed your shoulder once, still holding you there, still buried inside you. âyouâre mine now,â he said, low. âso fuckingperfect.â
he stayed there for a while, and kissed the back of your neck, gently, slightly sliding off after a moment. he took off your collar while he still kissed your neck, and both of you went quiet, just breathing. it wasnât heavy or awkward, it just felt like everything around had slowed down, just quiet in a way that felt right. jake moved first, reaching down to grab the sheet that had ended up at the foot of the bed at some point. he pulled it over you and ran his hand down your arm once, probably making sure you were okay without actually asking out loud yet.
you didn't say anything, just turned your head a little with your eyes half closed. he sat up and reached for his water bottle on the nightstand, the one he always kept there, and handed it to you without a word. you took a few sips and smiled at him, the kind of small tired smile that doesn't need explanation.
he was still catching his breath a little, looking at you like he was trying to process the last hour. it was one of those moments where he seemed caught between wanting to laugh at himself or just stare at the ceiling and think about his life choices. he let out a breath and said, "you good?" you nodded, and for a second neither of you moved or said anything. then he laughed, quiet and almost to himself. "i can't believe i get to do this with you."
you looked at him, a bit confused at first, then smiled. "what, the freaky stuff?"
"no," he said, shaking his head but still smiling. "i mean yeah, that too obviously. but i'm talking about all of it. i never thought i'd actually find someone who'd let me figure shit out without making it this whole weird thing, you know?"
you laughed and turned on your side to face him properly. "jake, we already did enough weird shit to last you the entire semester. i think you've figured plenty out."
"yeah i know," he said, laughing too. "but i'm being serious right now. you make it easy. i didn't know that was even possible with this stuff."
you grinned, half teasing him because that's just how you two worked. "you're getting all emotional on me now."
he grabbed a pillow and threw it at you playfully, and you caught it against your chest while laughing. "shut up," he said. "i'm trying to have a moment here."
"you're doing great," you said, your voice still light but a little softer.
he smiled for real then, the kind of smile that takes over his whole face even when he's trying to play it cool. he leaned over and kissed your forehead, staying there for a second with his hand resting on your side. "just tell me if anything ever gets too much, alright? like anything at all. i don't want to fuck this up."
you nodded, and there was a pause before you said, "you won't. i'd tell you if something was wrong."
that seemed to settle something in him. he laid back down, one arm behind his head and the other still draped over you. the room was quiet except for the sound of the sheets whenever either of you shifted around. you laughed out of nowhere, and he turned his head to look at you with his eyebrows drawn together like he was trying to figure out what was funny. "what?"
"nothing," you said, still smiling. "you just look like you're overthinking again."
he ran a hand through his hair and sighed, then looked back at you. "yeah, i was just thinking about something. i don't ever want to be too rough with you or whatever."
you blinked, a little surprised he was bringing that up now, then smiled. "jake, it's fine. i like it. you know i like it."
âyeah, i know,â he said quickly, his thumb brushing your arm while he talked. âbut i donât want you to think thatâs all this is. that i just want that.â
you turned your head toward him, eyes narrowing slightly. âitâs not?â
he frowned, confused that you even had to ask. âno, of course not.âÂ
you stared at him for a second, quiet, and it was the kind of silence where you both realized you might not have been on the same page about this whole thing. he kept tracing these light patterns on your shoulder with his fingers and said, "i mean yeah, i wanted to try stuff and experiment or whatever. but i don't want you thinking i'm just using you for it. that's not what's happening here." you looked down for a second, feeling a little embarrassed but also not really knowing what to say to that. he reached up and tilted your chin with his hand so you'd look at him again. "you know i could hook up with literally anyone else if it was just about trying shit out, right?"
you rolled your eyes and laughed. "okay yeah, i get it. you're very popular and desired."
he smiled but shook his head. "that's not what i'm trying to say."
you laughed again, softer this time and less defensive. "i know."
he watched your face for a moment and said quietly, "do you want to talk about it?"
"only if you want to talk about it," you said, your voice smaller but honest.
and then neither of you said anything for a full minute. it was funny in that awkward sort of normal way, like both of you knew this was one of those conversations that could get too serious too fast, and you were just tiptoeing around it. he started messing with the edge of the sheet and you started tracing random shapes on his arm with your finger, both of you obviously thinking about the exact same thing but pretending to be casual about it.
here's the thing though: jake had started catching feelings for you at some point, it just happened. it wasn't just about the sex anymore, and honestly it maybe never was from the start. he liked that you didn't treat him like he was this thing people whispered about at parties or like he was someone's weird project. you just looked at him like he was a regular person trying to figure himself out, not like he was some reputation that walked around campus. you made him feel like it was okay to be curious and mess up and not have everything figured out right away.
he looked at you again and said, "you okay?" and you nodded, smiling just a little, like you both understood that things were different now but neither of you wanted to ruin the moment by saying too much too soon. he leaned in and kissed your forehead again, even softer this time, and you laughed under your breath.
so you ended up staying there the whole next day. it wasn't really planned or discussed, you both just didn't mention leaving and it made sense to stay. he tossed you one of his shirts when you went to take a shower, this soft worn out one he always slept in, and he grinned like an idiot when you came out wearing it like it was the most normal thing in the world.
you ordered food later because neither of you felt like cooking anything, and he made this whole big production out of picking a place even though he always ended up choosing the same korean spot every time. he let you take the last dumpling and then spent ten minutes complaining about it just to keep the joke going. by the time it got dark outside, there was still some movie playing in the background that neither of you were really watching, and you'd ended up half asleep on his chest while he scrolled through his phone with one hand and rubbed these slow circles on your arm with the other.
it was all very normal and kind of domestic, which was weird because this was jake, the guy who never really stuck around with anyone for more than a night or two. but there he was, asking if you wanted water every twenty minutes and telling you to stop thanking him so much for every little thing.
heeseung and sunghoon had gone out that night, which honestly made everything easier. jake mentioned they'd probably get back late, and they did. you heard the front door open at some point but by then you were already half asleep in his bed with his arm around you, both of you pretending not to hear them trying and failing to whisper in the hallway.
the next morning though, that's when it got funny. you woke up first and stole one of jake's hoodies because the place was freezing, then went to make coffee in the kitchen. sunghoon walked in first with his hair going everywhere and his eyes barely open, and he just stood there for a second staring at you like his brain was buffering.
"morning," you said, trying to act completely normal while pouring coffee into a mug.
he blinked a few times, pointed at the hoodie you were wearing, and said, "is that jake's?"
before you could even answer, jake walked in behind him, yawning and scratching the back of his neck. "yeah, what about it?"
sunghoon just started laughing, but it was that disbelieving kind of laugh. "nothing man, just wow. didn't think i'd ever see this day actually happen."
later that day you headed back to your place, jake drove you back. he kissed you before you got out of his car, one of those slow ones that made you both smile after, and then when you got inside your dorm, he stood there in the parking lot like an idiot, watching you get in.
the thing was, after that morning, jake couldn't get you out of his head. and not just in the way he'd been thinking about you before, when it was mostly about wanting to try things or wondering what you'd be like. now it was different, now it was everything.
he'd be sitting in class, supposedly paying attention to some lecture about marketing strategies or whatever, and instead he'd be thinking about the way you'd smiled at him that morning when you handed him his coffee. or he'd be at the gym with sunghoon, mid set, and suddenly he'd remember the way you laughed when he made some dumb joke, and he'd lose count of his reps. he'd remember your moans, then he had to immediately shut that thought away because he didn't want to get hard in front of his gym bro.
"dude, you good?" sunghoon asked him one afternoon, watching jake stare at his phone for the third time in ten minutes.
"yeah, why?"
"you've been weird all week," sunghoon said, setting down his weights. "you keep smiling at your phone like a psycho."
jake shoved his phone in his pocket. "i'm not smiling."
"you literally were just smiling."
"shut up."
but sunghoon wasn't wrong. jake was down bad, and he knew it. the problem was he didn't know what to do about it. you two hadn't really talked about what you were doing, if this was just experimenting or if it was more than that. and jake, who usually never cared about labels or definitions, suddenly found himself wanting to know.
he thought about texting you constantly. not even anything important, just random shit like "what are you doing" or "did you eat today" but he didn't want to seem clingy. except he kind of was being clingy, because every time his phone buzzed he hoped it was you, and when it wasn't, he felt weirdly disappointed.
it got worse at night. he'd lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, and his brain would just replay everything. the way you looked in his hoodie, the way you fit perfectly under his arm, the way you'd kissed him goodbye. and yeah, of course he thought about the freaky sex too, but it wasn't just that anymore. he wanted to wake up next to you again, wanted to make you coffee, wanted to hear you laugh at his stupid jokes.
"i think i'm fucked," he said out loud to his empty room one night, and then laughed at himself because yeah, he definitely was.
by thursday, he'd seen you twice on campus. once you were walking with chaewon and you'd waved at him, that bright smile that made his chest feel tight, and he'd waved back trying to act normal. the second time you were sitting in the library and he'd sat down next to you without asking, and you'd just looked up, smiled, and went back to your laptop like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"you're distracting me," you'd said after a while, not looking up.
"i'm not doing anything."
"you're breathing loud."
he'd laughed, quiet so he wouldn't get shushed by the librarian. "sorry, i'll stop breathing."
you'd looked at him then, that little smirk on your face. "don't be dramatic." and he'd stayed there for an hour, pretending to study but really just sitting next to you, and when you finally packed up your stuff, he'd walked you to your next class even though his was in the opposite direction.
friday night, the guys wanted to go to some party, but jake wasn't really feeling it. he was lying on his bed, scrolling through unhinged instagram reels, when heeseung knocked on his door. "you coming or what?"
"nah, i'm tired."
heeseung raised an eyebrow. "you? tired of a party? since when?"
"since now."
"does this have anything to do with y/n?"
jake looked up at him. "what about her?"
heeseung grinned. "nothing. just seems like you've been in your head a lot lately." he paused, then added, "she's cool, by the way. i like her."
"yeah," jake said, looking back at his phone. "me too."
"then maybe stop being weird about it and just tell her that."
after heeseung left, jake stared at his phone for a solid five minutes before finally opening your messages.
[jake]: you doing anything tonight
you answered almost immediately.
[you]: was gonna watch a movie probably why
[jake]: can i come over
[you]: sure :))
so the thing is, jake wasnât planning anything when he texted you. like, actually nothing. he just wanted to see you, sit around, maybe talk, maybe not. that was it. except, obviously, his brain didnât get the memo. because the second you said âsure :)â he was already pacing around his room like an idiot, thinking about what shirt to wear, and then laughing at himself because why the hell did it matter what shirt he wore if this wasnât a date.
he kept telling himself it wasnât like that â that he wasnât going over to hook up or whatever. so there he was, caught somewhere between i just wanna hang out and oh god what if i end up wrapping a collar on her neck again, and honestly, it was ridiculous.
the problem was, jake had never really done this before. not the whole âliking someoneâ thing, at least not in a way that made him feel this normal, it was messing him up. his chest hurt sometimes, but in a good way, and it annoyed him how much he liked it. he wasnât used to missing people. usually, when things ended, they ended. easy. but with you, it was different. he was basically down bad and self aware enough to hate it.
he couldn't remember the last time he'd done that. gone to see someone just to be around them. it had been years, maybe never. he wanted to be near you, which felt ridiculous for someone who used to brag about never catching feelings.
somewhere between grabbing his keys and pulling on his hoodie, he had this thought that made him stop and laugh. maybe this was his actual kink. not any of the stuff he'd spent hours googling at three in the morning or reading about on reddit. his real kink was apparently just wanting to spend time with you. no expectations, no plan, just you existing in the same room as him. which was possibly the lamest thing he'd ever admitted to himself, but also kind of true.
and for jake, that was kind of terrifying. because yeah, heâd done a lot of freaky things, but this? catching feelings? this was new level freaky. he had no idea what the next step was. he didnât know how to play it cool, didnât know what it meant if he just wanted to hang out, didnât even know if you felt the same. all he knew was that when you said sure :) he felt something warm in his chest that no amount of hookups ever gave him.
so he got in his car, sat there for a second with his hands on the steering wheel, and said, âthis is so stupid,â before driving anyway. because no matter how dumb he felt, he knew heâd rather feel dumb next to you than cool anywhere else.
when jake showed up at your dorm, he didnât really know what he was expecting. maybe he thought youâd tease him for getting there so fast, or that youâd joke about him being obsessed, which, honestly, wouldnât have been wrong. but when you opened the door, hair a little messy, wearing some oversized hoodie and cute kuromi socks, he just smiled. it was automatic, the kind of smile that happened before he could even think about it.
you went back to the couch and sat down, pulling your legs under you, while he hovered for a second like he didnât know where to sit. then he just dropped next to you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. âso,â you said, turning toward him. âdid you come here for a reason?â
he looked at you for a second before answering. âi just wanted to see you.â
you raised your eyebrows, a small smirk tugging at your lips. âthatâs it?â
âyeah,â he said, and that was the truth. he shrugged a little, but his hand found your thigh without even thinking, resting there gently like it belonged. âthatâs it.â
you didnât say anything right away, but your smile softened. you leaned back into the couch, and he followed your movement like gravity. it wasnât even about anything physical; he just couldnât help it. his arm went around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer. it was clingy, yeah, but he wasnât trying to hide it.
you picked up the remote, flipped through netflix for a while, and he watched you instead of the screen. it was stupid, but he couldnât help paying attention to the small things, like the way you curled your toes under the blanket, how you made tiny comments about every movie title you didnât like, how youâd glance at him now and then with that small knowing look like you could tell he wasnât really watching. âyouâre not paying attention,â you said, side eyeing him.
âi am,â he said, though he definitely wasnât.
âwhatâs the movie about, then?â
he paused. âuh⊠friendship?â
you laughed, shaking your head. âitâs twilight, dumbass.â
he grinned, leaning in until his chin was resting against your head. âyeah, but maybe thereâs still friendship in there somewhere.â
you rolled your eyes, but you didnât push him away. he stayed there, arm heavy around you, tracing lazy lines with his fingers on your arm. it wasnât like him to be this still, this soft, but he didnât really care. after a while, you said quietly, âyouâre weirdly touchy today.â
âyou donât like it?â he asked, tilting his head to look at you.
you thought about it, lips pressed together like you were pretending to consider it. âi didnât say that.â
âso you do like it,â he said, smirking.
âmaybe,â you said, eyes still on the screen. he chuckled and leaned in closer, his nose brushing the top of your head, smelling you. you didnât move away, just sighed in that way that said you were pretending to be annoyed. his hand stayed resting on your leg, thumb brushing back and forth like a small habit. you glanced at him again and said, âyou know you donât have to act all sweet just to hang out, right?â
he smiled, soft but sure. âiâm not acting.â
you gave him that look, the one that was amused but skeptical, but you didnât push it. instead, you leaned into him more, your head finding its way to his chest. he let out a breath he didnât realize he was holding. everything felt slower here, quieter. he liked it more than heâd admit out loud.
later, when you started talking about random things, the class you hated, how the dining hall food was getting worse, how sunoo accidentally set off the dorm alarm again, jake listened like every word mattered. he didnât even try to hide the smile that kept showing up on his face. and if anyone asked him what that night was, he wouldnât have known how to describe it. it wasnât a date, it wasnât anything official. it was just him and you, a blanket, twilight rants (jake laughed his ass off), and a weird sense that something about all this felt new.
after a while the movie was still on but neither of you were really watching anymore. you were warm under the blanket, leaning against him, and he felt your breathing slow down a little. his own eyes were heavy but he didnât want to move, not when you felt that close. eventually though you stretched, yawned, and mumbled that your neck was starting to hurt from sitting like that. he nodded and followed you when you got up, both of you kind of quiet but in that easy, comfortable way.
your bed was small, definitely not made for two people, but you didnât even have to ask him to join you. he slipped in right behind you, pulling you close without hesitation. it was a little awkward with all the shifting around, but once you were both settled under your blanket, it just felt natural.
he tucked his chin against your shoulder, one arm wrapped tight around your waist. you stayed like that for a while, just listening to each other breathe, the silence stretching out in a way that didnât feel heavy. then he said, voice low like he wasnât sure if he should break the quiet, âi wanted to see you tonight. thatâs all.â
you turned your head slightly, trying to look at him. âi know,â you said softly. âi can tell.â
he let out a small laugh, kind of embarrassed. âgood. because i didnât⊠like, i wasnât coming here expecting anything. i just wanted to hang out. i like being around you.â
you felt your chest warm at that, even if you tried not to show it too much. âyouâre being really sweet right now.â
âyeah, donât get used to it,â he teased, then got quiet again. his fingers started tracing light patterns on your stomach, like he couldnât sit still. âcan i be honest about something?â
âalways,â you said.
he hesitated, then said, âyou know how weâve been messing around⊠i really like it, what we're exploring, i don't know.â he laughed at the way he said it, but kept going. âmore than i thought i would.â
you blinked, but you didnât pull away. âokay,â you said, keeping your tone even. âyou can just say that. itâs not weird.â
âi know,â he said quickly. âi just donât want it to sound like thatâs the only reason iâm here, because itâs not. i figured itâs better to say this out loud instead of keeping it in my head.â
you nodded slowly. âthat makes sense. so what about it do you like?â
he smiled a little, though you couldnât see it. âthe control. the way you look at me when i push you like that. itâs⊠i donât know. i didnât think iâd be into it this much, but i am. and i think i want to explore more of it, but only if youâre into it too.â
you thought about it for a second, then said, âi am. i like it too. and i like that youâre saying this, actually. it makes it easier for me to tell you what i like.â
he squeezed your waist gently. âyeah? tell me, then.â
you turned a little so you could face him better, your noses almost brushing in the dark. âi like when you call me names, but not just mean ones. like, the pet stuff feels⊠i donât know, kind of comforting? even when youâre rough. it makes me feel close to you.â
his eyes softened. âthatâs good. i want you to feel that way. i donât want it to ever cross a line where it feels bad.â
âit doesnât,â you said quickly. âand if it ever did, iâd tell you. but i like that youâre not afraid to be rough and that you pay attention when i push back. it feels balanced, you know?â
he nodded, brushing his thumb over your cheek. âthatâs what i want. i donât want it to just be me getting what i want. i want it to be both of us, figuring it out together.â
âthatâs what this is,â you said. âweâre figuring it out.â
he smiled at that, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your temple. âyou make it sound easy.â
âit is easy,â you said, settling back against him.
he wrapped you up tighter, holding you close enough that you could feel his heartbeat against your back. âokay, then hereâs me being honest again,â he said after a pause. âiâve never really done this before. not just the kink part, but⊠like, the after part. iâve hooked up, iâve tried stuff, but actually wanting to stay after, wanting to come over just to watch movies? thatâs new. and -- it scares me a little.â
you reached back and laced your fingers with his. âi think thatâs fine. it doesnât have to be figured out all at once.â
he exhaled like that was what he needed to hear. âthanks. i⊠i really like this, i mean.â
you smiled into the dark. âi like this too, jakey.â
for a while neither of you said anything else. his hand stayed tangled with yours, his body warm against yours. you shifted a little, not because you were uncomfortable but because you wanted to see him. when you turned in his arms, he loosened his hold just enough to let you face him, your noses close in the dark. he blinked at you like he hadnât expected you to move, and for a moment the only thing either of you did was look at each other.
you reached up and brushed your fingers along his jaw, soft and slow. he leaned into your touch without thinking, like it was natural. then you kissed him, and it wasnât rushed or hungry, not the way youâd kissed before when things were heated and messy. this one was tentative at first, a press of lips that lingered, both of you testing the space.
he kissed you back just as carefully, almost shy in the way he moved his mouth against yours. his hand came up to the side of your face, his thumb rubbing small circles near your temple. it stayed like that for a while, slow and steady, until you tilted your head and opened to him a little more. the change was small but he noticed right away, kissing you deeper, still unhurried but with more intent.
he pulled back just a fraction, enough to whisper, âyou feel so good,â before kissing you again.
the warmth built gradually. every time you moved your lips against his, every little sound you made, it drew him in further. he shifted closer until his chest pressed to yours, until there was no real space left between you. you hooked your hand into the collar of his hoodie, pulling him down when he tried to lift his head. when he finally rolled forward, easing his weight over you, it was careful. he braced one arm beside your head so he wouldnât crush you, letting you feel the solid press of him without it being too much. your legs brushed his, your hands sliding up into his hair, and the kiss turned heavier but not rushed.
he pulled back again, just slightly, breathing against your lips. âyouâre perfect,â he said quietly, and it didnât sound like a line. it sounded like he couldnât stop himself from saying it.
you kissed him again, harder this time, and he let out a low sound, moving with you, his body lowering a little more until his hips were pressed to yours. still, his pace stayed gentle. every movement was patient, every kiss followed by another, his mouth moving from your lips to your cheek, down to your jaw, then back up like he couldnât get enough but didnât want to rush.
âyouâre so good to me,â he murmured against your skin, kissing the corner of your mouth again. âi donât even know if you realize how much.â
your chest tightened at that, and you held him closer, wrapping your arms around him fully now. he pressed his forehead to yours, smiling a little. âi think i could get used to this,â you said, giggling.
âyeah?â he asked, voice low.
âyeahâŠâ you said again, softer this time.
next thing you knew, it was the next morning. sunlight sneaking through your blinds, the both of you tangled up under your blanket, very obviously naked. the night before hadnât been about roleplay or collars or anything wild. just you and him, a lot of kissing, a lot of laughing in between, and, well, some very unconventional sex. unconventional in the sense that it felt so unplanned and sweet, but also somehow clumsy in a way that made jake whisper âfuck, this might be the best sex iâve ever hadâ against your shoulder while you both tried not to laugh.
you both had class that day, but when your alarms went off, you just looked at each other, groaned at the thought of moving, and made a joint decision to skip. you didnât even say it out loud, jake just reached over, turned off your phone, and pulled you closer.
the day turned into this weird mix of domestic and ridiculous. you made instant noodles together in your dorm kitchen, him insisting he was the âchefâ even though he literally almost forgot to put water in the pot. you ended up watching some more twilight movies on your laptop while lying in bed, and he kept pausing it every ten minutes to ask, âwait, so whoâs this guy again?â even though youâd explained three times already.
somewhere in the middle of all this, jake got curious and started testing out âsoftâ versions of kinks he hadnât gotten around to yet. nothing serious, more like experiments. at one point he asked if he could blindfold you, then immediately ruined it by laughing because he tied it too tight and you complained you couldnât breathe. another time, he asked if youâd let him feed you chocolate with his hands while calling you âprincess,â and you went along with it until you both started laughing so hard the chocolate melted everywhere. he even half joked about barking for you, even though he was actually being very serious.
the point was: it was fun. it wasnât serious or heavy. just you two being idiots together, seeing what worked, what didnât, and realizing that sometimes the kinkiest thing was just how easy it felt to try with each other.
when night rolled around, he finally had to leave, which turned into a whole production. you walked him to the door, and he kept stalling like he forgot something: first his phone, then his hoodie, then his keys, even though they were all in his hand. every time you leaned in to give him a goodbye kiss, he found an excuse to kiss you again, until it was basically ten minutes of nonstop kisses.
âokay, i really have to go now,â he said at least four times, and yet he was still standing there, thumb brushing your jaw.
âyouâve said that already,â you pointed out, laughing.
âyeah, but i mean it this time,â he said, leaning down to kiss you again. when he finally pulled back, his voice dropped a little softer. âi had a really good time, you know. like⊠today. all of it.â
you smiled, brushing his messy hair out of his face. âme too.â
jake kissed your forehead, then your lips one last time, and finally walked out the door. and of course, thirty seconds later, you got a text from him: miss you already.
so obviously you told sunoo about it. what was going on between you and jake. and of course he freaked out, because thatâs sunoo. he gasped so loud you had to shush him before someone else heard, then he grabbed your pillow and started smacking you with it, yelling things like i knew it! i knew he liked you! until you had to bribe him with snacks to calm down.
and the thing was, you didnât even know what you wanted to call it. youâd always kind of liked jake, but in that heâs hot but heâs also kind of an idiot and will probably break my heart kind of way. heâd always been the friend who didnât take things seriously, the one you swore youâd never catch feelings for because, well, you didnât want to get hurt. so you built this wall around yourself, kept reminding yourself this was casual, just fun. and you decided you werenât going to put any labels on it unless jake said he wanted to.
meanwhile, across town, jake had just gotten back to his place. he kicked off his sneakers, flopped down on his bed, stared at the ceiling for a solid five minutes, then pulled out his phone. and, naturally, he opened reddit.
he's typing out a draft for r/Relationship_Advice. the title says friends with benefits situationship except i don't wanna be just friends and i wanna be her pet instead. heâs mid sentence writing about how you wear stupid kuromi socks that distract him way too much, when he decides to scroll the subreddit first.
and then he sees a post. a post that sounds⊠exactly like you.
r/RelationshipAdvice
u/KeroppiNumber1Lover | 2h
am i overthinking this or is my fwb secretly my boyfriend?
okay so i (24f) have been friends with this guy (23m) for a long time. we were just friends until maybe a month or two ago when he came to me asking for advice about kinks. he remembered i once did that bdsm test thing for fun and thought iâd know more than him, and he wanted to âtry some stuff outâ and i said fine, why not?? we trust each other, no big deal. so we started hooking up and trying some of those things together.
except now it doesnât feel like weâre just testing things anymore, itâs different. he still jokes around a lot but when we hang out, itâs not always about sex. sometimes he comes over and we just sit there watching dumb movies. last time we spent hours making fun of twilight together and it was TOO fun. he also keeps doing these little things like he brought me coffee one morning just because???? and then played it off like it wasnât anything and when i told him i was stressed he hugged me for so long i thought my back would crackkkk sirrrrr that is not fwb behavior omgÂ
the problem is he is kind of known for hooking up with a lot of people in college?? not in a bad way just he never seemed serious with anyone. heâs always been the type i wouldnât trust to water my plants because heâd probably forget after one day so iâm scared iâll be stupid if i start to catch feelings for him. but i think i already am?? i do like him, i just donât know if he feels the same or if this is just me overthinking it. should i say something, or keep my guard up until he says something first?
jake is lying there in bed with his phone basically falling onto his face. he blinks at the screen, rereads it once, then again. ânah⊠no way. it canât be⊠can it??â
then he hits the part about the bdsm test. his brain short circuits. because he did ask that. he literally asked that. he scrolls faster, sees the twilight part, the coffee, the hug. every line feels like a receipt against him. itâs not even subtle. he groans into his pillow. âoh my god. this is literally about me.â then he makes the mistake of reading the comments.
comment 1: âgirl if he used to be a fuckboy, protect your heart.â
jake, out loud, also typed: âI WASNâT EVEN THAT BAD. jesus. can yâall move on??â
comment 2: âsounds like youâre already dating, just without the title. either lock it down or walk away.â
jake: âok see?? finally someone with a brain. pin this comment.â
comment 3: âguys like that just want comfort without commitment. donât fall for it.â
jake, furious: âi literally brought her coffee at 8am and watched twilight for her. TWILIGHT. what more commitment do you want??â
comment 4: âif heâs treating you like a gf, he probably thinks of you as one already.â
â jake: âYES. thank you random internet genius. i love you.â
comment 5: âsay something before it drags on. if heâs serious, heâll say yes. if not, at least youâll know.â
he sighs. âokay. yeah. fine. i get it. iâll say something. god.â
he ends up throwing his phone down on the bed and just staring at the ceiling, feeling like the universe is laughing at him. like, of all places, reddit?? thatâs where he finds out youâre basically calling him your âmaybe-boyfriendâ?
but deep down, even while heâs cringing at strangers dissecting his love life, he canât help smiling. because at least now he knows heâs not the only one catching feelings.
so after doomscrolling reddit for like an hour and basically convincing himself he was the main character in your post, jake sat there and thought, ok i canât just do nothing. he wanted to make a move, but not the usual dumb moves he always made. he started running through everything he knew you liked. movies. you had a letterboxd longer than a textbook, always roasting his âbasicâ taste but still making him watch stuff with you. sanrio. you had those socks on, like, every time he came over. your little chococat keychain was hanging off your bag right now. the oversized hoodies you lived in. your pc setup that he still couldnât get over because he never struck you as a gamer, but then he walked into your dorm that one time and saw a glowing pastel keyboard with little frog stickers on it.
he kept trying to figure out: how do i surprise her? he thought about showing up in a full hello kitty hoodie (terrible idea), maybe making you watch every twilight movie in one sitting (heâd die), or even buying you some dumb sanrio plush and pretending he didnât spend hours looking for it. none of it felt right.
a few days later he was sitting on the floor while heeseung was baked out of his mind, button mashing fifa with sunghoon. jake was half talking to himself when he muttered, âi just⊠i donât know how to ask her without making it weird.â
heeseung, not looking up from the screen, said, âwhy donât you just ask her out like a normal person.â jake stared at him. âyeah, like, words. say them. âdo you wanna go out.â boom.â
sunghoon snorted. âcrazy concept.â
jake groaned, but in the end he thought, maybe theyâre right. maybe youâd actually take it well.
so the next day, he pulled the dumbest move possible. he memorized your class schedule. you were sitting in one of your electives, sunoo on one side of you, when jake just strolled in and sat down on the other side. no notebook, no laptop, not even pretending. he just leaned back in the chair like he belonged there.
you blinked at him, whispering, âwhat are you doing here? you donât even take this class.â
sunoo leaned forward across you, eyes narrowed. âyeah, what are you doing here?â
jake ignored him completely and looked at you, his voice low. âare you free tonight?â
you laughed quietly, shaking your head. âyeah⊠why? wanna come over?â you asked, teasing him before he could answer.
but jake shook his head, smiling a little. âactually, iâve been thinking about taking you out.â
sunoo raised his brows, looking back and forth between you two like he was watching a live drama unfold. you just bit back another laugh, a little caught off guard but also clearly not against it. âokay,â you said softly. âwhere?â
he hadnât actually planned that far, but he quickly blurted, âthereâs this restaurant off campus. i heard itâs good.â it wasnât fancy, but it was nice enough that it felt like a real step up from eating cup noodles in your dorm.
you tilted your head, still smiling. âso⊠a date?â
jake nodded, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. âyeah. a date.â
you tilted your head a little, smiling. âyeah, that sounds nice.â
and in his brain, jake basically blacked out. oh my god she said yes weâre going on a date holy shit this is happening. he wanted to fist pump the air like an idiot but instead he just sat there nodding like it was no big deal. he mumbled something about texting you later, then immediately packed up and left the classroom before sunoo could say a word.
the second he stepped out, he pulled out his phone and typed âshe said yesâ into his notes app like he needed proof it actually happened. then he drove home and told himself to stay calm. he was not calm. he tore through his closet, tried on three different shirts, showered twice, searched âbest first date outfits menâ on pinterest. eventually he gave up and picked the cleanest shirt he had, some jeans, and sneakers that didnât look like theyâd been through war.
when he went to pick you up, you opened the door and jakeâs brain short circuited again. you werenât overdressed, you just looked nice. too nice for him, he thought. your hair, your perfume, the way you smiled at him, it all hit him at once. he immediately leaned in for a quick peck, lingering a little too long, his hand sliding down to your waist like he couldnât help himself. âyou look really good,â he blurted.
you smirked. âyou too.â
the restaurant was this little italian place just off campus. dim lighting, small tables with candles, the kind of spot people actually go to for dates. he held the door for you, pulled your chair out, doing all the things he never thought heâd actually do. the conversation was easy. you both ordered pasta, and while waiting for the food you ended up talking about random stuff, laughing over the couple next to you who were obviously on a bad date, debating which twilight movie was the worst one.
ânew moon,â you said confidently.
ânah, eclipse,â jake argued, shaking his head. âthat one fight scene was garbage.â
âyou laughed the entire time.â
âexactly. it was trash.â
the food came and you both dug in, joking about how unromantic it was to slurp spaghetti. at one point you teased him about how âun-jakeâ it was for him to plan something like this, and he shrugged with a small grin, admitting, âyeah well⊠i wanted to do it right.â
after dinner, he drove you back, and when he parked outside your dorm, the air in the car felt a little heavier, charged but not exactly awkward. he glanced at you, smiling. âyou know, i had so much fun today.â
âme too,â you said, meeting his eyes.
jake leaned in and kissed you, slow and sweet, his hand finding your cheek. when he pulled back, he looked at you for a second, then smirked. âeven though youâre calling me your maybe-boyfriend on reddit.â
you froze. âwhatâ oh my god. you read that??â
he laughed, nodding. âyeah. it popped up. i knew it was you.â
you covered your face with your hands, groaning. âiâm gonna actually die.â
he gently pulled your hands down, kissing your palm, still grinning. âno, donât worry, i liked it. i even went through the comments. i mightâve called a girl an idiot for saying you should protect yourself from fuckboys.â
âyou argued with strangers about it?â
âyep. full on fighting in the replies. i was on your side, by the way.â
you shook your head, laughing. âyou were on your side!â
he kissed your cheek, still laughing, softer this time. âmaybe. but i like being your maybe-boyfriend.â
you kind of froze when he said it, like it took your brain a second to actually process. your face went a little hot and you looked down, suddenly shy. he noticed right away and leaned in a little closer, still holding your hand. âhey, donât freak out. i like you. iâm not trying to rush anything, i swear.â you blinked, trying to figure out what to say, and he kept going before you could answer. âlike, i know this was supposed to be a friends with benefits thing, right? but every time iâm with you i feel like⊠i donât know. like iâm the one chasing you. and i keep calling you my pet in bed, but it kinda feels like iâm your dog instead.â
that made you laugh, like actually laugh out loud, and he smiled because you finally looked at him again. âyouâre ridiculous,â you said, still laughing.
âyeah, but iâm serious. i donât wanna be just friends.â he squeezed your hand and added, a little softer, âi want more than that.â
you let out a small sigh, still smiling but definitely nervous too. âi like being with you. i like you, jake. i just⊠didnât know if you felt the same.â
âwell, i do.â
your face lit up immediately. âyeah?â
âyeah.â
you smiled tenderly and that was all he needed. he leaned across the console, kissed you again, deeper this time, his hand cupping your cheek while you kissed him back. it was sweet and warm and a little desperate, the kind of kiss that made it pretty clear neither of you were just âfriendsâ anymore.
so the whole week after that, jake was basically living in boyfriend mode without even saying he was, but oh boy, he was. like, he was picking you up from class just because he âhappened to be around,â but then heâd have your favorite snack waiting in the car. you two started having this dumb little routine of going grocery shopping together, and heâd put random stuff in the cart just to see you roll your eyes and then sneak it back when you werenât looking.
at night, heâd call you even if youâd already spent the whole day together. sometimes heâd just be lying in his bed, rambling about whatever, and then suddenly go quiet like he realized how much he liked hearing you breathe on the other end. heâd come over to yours a lot too, and half the time sunoo would be there making fun of him for being âclingy as hell.â jake didnât even deny it anymore, he was too busy following you around your own place like a golden retriever.
but there was one night where he was acting especially wild. like, from the second he saw you, he couldnât stop touching you. his hand on your back, his arm around your waist, kissing your shoulder while you were just trying to make popcorn. he looked at you like he couldnât believe you were actually there with him, which, to be fair, was how he felt most of the time.
you noticed, of course. you kept laughing at how clingy he was being, but he just smirked like he didnât even care if he was obvious. he leaned in close while you were sitting on the couch, his voice lower than usual. âyou know,â he said, fingers brushing over your knee, âi kinda wanna try something different with you.â you tilted your head at him, curious, and he grinned, eyes way too mischievous. âdonât freak out, iâll explain. but i promise youâre gonna like it.âÂ
later that night, you were in his bedroom, and the whole house was quiet. jake was in one of his moods, where he couldnât keep his mouth off you. he kissed along your neck, your shoulders, down your chest like he was trying to memorize every bit of you. his hands were slow but firm, holding you in place like you were something he wanted to worship. every time you made the slightest sound, he murmured praise into your skin, all soft but teasing. you looked at him, a little out of breath, and asked, âwhat is it you wanted to try?â your voice was curious, and that made him grin even wider, like heâd been waiting for you to ask.
he sat back on his knees, eyes glued to you, and said, âi got you something. a little toy.â the way he said it was too casual, like he wasnât basically throwing gasoline on the fire. âthought itâd suit my puppy.â
the second he called you that, you slipped into it without even thinking. you tilted your head at him, playful, already slipping into that pet energy he loved so much. your hands curled against the sheets like paws, and you looked at him with wide, eager eyes. jake chuckled low, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. âsee? there she is. my good girl.â he leaned down and kissed you again, slower this time, almost smug at how naturally you fell into the role. âyouâre gonna let me try it on you, right?â
the way you nodded instantly made him laugh against your mouth. âof course you will. my puppy always listens.â he kept praising you in between kisses, dragging his hands down your sides, his voice soft but dripping with control.Â
he reached over to his nightstand, opening the drawer like he was trying to be casual about it, but you could see the way his hands hesitated for a second. jake pulled something out, set it on the bed next to you, and for a moment he almost looked shy. it was a buttplug with a soft little tail attached, and he rubbed the back of his neck like he wasnât sure if heâd just ruined the mood.
âi, uh⊠got this for you,â he admitted, glancing at your face quickly, testing your reaction. âit might be a little⊠freaky. i wasnât sure if youâd even wanna try it.â
but you didnât flinch. instead, you smiled at him in that way that always made him feel like his chest was on fire. âi want to try whatever you want to, jakey.âthe second you said that, something in his head clicked, the nerves melted into pure want. his whole body reacted before his brain caught up.
he let out a low laugh, shaking his head, but you could see how much hotter he suddenly looked at you. âyouâre⊠insane, you know that? i bring this out and instead of running youâre saying yes. fuck. my perfect puppy.â
he kissed you hard then, deeper than before, one hand cradling your jaw like you were something fragile even while his words were all possession. he left the tail sitting on the pillow beside you, within sight, like a promise for later. âyouâre already so good for me,â he kept murmuring against your skin as he started peeling your clothes off piece by piece. every time a new inch of you was bare, he touched it, kissed it, praised it. âbeautiful⊠all mine⊠such a good girl for me.â
his hands roamed like he couldnât decide where to stay, gripping your hips, sliding up your ribs, tracing along your thighs. his voice stayed low but steady, every praise making you sink further into the role he loved. âyouâre my puppy,â he whispered against your stomach as he kissed lower. âyou listen, you let me take care of you, and you make me want you more than anything.â
he stayed there for a second, breathing against your skin. jake looked up at you, and there was that look again, the one heâd had when he showed up in your class, when he asked you out, when he kissed you in the car after dinner.
âyou know,â he said, voice softer now but still a little teasing, âwhen i first started this⊠all i wanted was to mess around. try things. have fun. i didnât think itâd turn into⊠this.â he gestured between the two of you, a small huff of laughter escaping. âyouâve got me completely gone.â
you reached out, brushing his hair back, laughing, âi like being yours. i wanna be yoursâ. and he exhaled like heâd been holding it in for weeks.
he kissed you then, slow, warm, but still a little desperate. when he stopped, he smiled so wide it almost broke his face, and whispered, âgood. because i donât wanna be just friends. i wanna be yours too.â
the toy stayed on the pillow, forgotten for now. just the two of you, finally admitting what everyone probably already knew.
!! ronnie's notes: i canât believe i finally finished this fic đ i actually started writing it back in june and for some reason it took me forever to get it done lmaoo mostly bc i really wanted to take my time with it and make it feel right. iâve been planning to post it for kinktober since literally junee, so the fact that iâm managing to post it before october ends feels kinda unreal đ this is actually my third kinktober fic this year, i also posted one for jake (which was technically for a sabrina carpenter album collab but it counts đ) and one for soobin that i wrote like a million years ago. but this one was the fic iâd been planning for kinktober since the beginning, so sheâs special to me!!! anyway, i really hope you guys like it. thank you for reading and for sticking around <3
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Scream - Zac Efron (I swear this sums up this jk perfectly)
Summary: At the age of just 23, Jeon Jungkook has become a proudly professional priest. However to fulfill his duty as said priest he's had to give up one of his previous favourite activities... having sex, and turning celibate. He's usually very restrained, yet things begin to get complicated when he meets a doe eyed girl in a bar whose tempting him to break his vow.
Pairing: priest!jungkook x fem!reader
Genre: fluff, crack, smut, forbidden relationship, celibacy, temptation, will they won't they
Word count: 21k
Warnings: dom!jungkook,/ sub!jungkook (bit of both), swearing, multiple orgasms, making out, drinking, boners, teasing, oral (f&m receiving), hopeless romantic, advice, fingering, LOTS of flirting, sexting, sex, overstimulation, holy talk, stupid tae, dirty talk, romance, skimmed not proof read
With a long sigh, Jungkook sank into the painfully uncomfortable chair behind his desk, desperate for a moment of relief after six straight hours of hearing confessions and counselling parishioners. He turned to his right, desperate for his water bottle as his voice was becoming sore from how long he had been talking without a break. He had gotten a total of two minutes and fifteen seconds before he heard a loud knock on his door and exhaled while dragging a palm down his face, already knowing what he was about to be asked.
The large wooden door opened not far from his body, and there was his elder coworker Namjoon with an already apologetic look on his face.
âHey, JungkookâŠâ He started, his voice guilty.
âWhat is it, Namjoon?â Jungkook responded quickly with an exhale, attempting to keep his voice as calm as possible, trying to hide his obvious annoyance.
His superior cleared his throat and stepped fully into his office, straightening his posture. âMr. Kim is here again, and surprise surprise, he wonât take anyone else but you for confessions.â
âSeriously? He was here just yesterday.â
Namjoon shrugged, âI think he prefers you because youâre young. You remind him of himself.â
Jungkook sighed for a third time, this time not hiding his annoyance.
âLook, I know youâre off the clock, but there's nothing we can do. The quicker you do this, the quicker you get to go home. Swear thereâs no one after this.â
Jungkook checked his clock, and realised he was already working overtime. It was somewhat ironic to him, knowing that he was probably the youngest priest in the country, due to being only 23, and had done more hours just this week than his much older colleagues.
He reluctantly stood up and began to head over to the confession box, earning a warm smile and pat on the back from Namjoon. âThanks. We know you work really hard as is.â
He reciprocated with a weak smile to be polite, but his exhaustion was unmaskable. He left out the door and began bracing himself for whatever ridiculous confession he was about to experience.
Just last week, the same Mr. Kim had come in panicking because heâd torn the tag off his mattress. And poor Jungkook had to sit through that whole hour-long confession, rubbing his temples and providing the dumbest yet most necessary advice he could think of.
Jeon Jungkook had been living the life of a priest for just over a year now, though it has felt like a decade already. The workload was surprising and hit him like a truck the moment he stepped into the industry, and he was now still adjusting to the endless cycle of baptisms, confessions, and sacraments that allowed him no time for his own thoughts.
As he walked down the quiet hallway toward the confession booth, he couldnât help but think about how different his life had been just a few years ago. Sometimes he couldnât believe what his life was now.
Back in his university days, Jungkook had been known around campus for being anything but religious. He was known famously as the frat house fuckboy who stumbled out of parties at three in the morning, with a drink in hand and someone elseâs lipstick smeared on his collar. His fraternity brothers threw parties almost every three days, the house filled with loud bass-boosted music, laughter, and strangers who rarely stayed until morning.
It had been a chaotic, irresponsible time in his life, but he was supposed to go through it. He was a teenager experiencing life, and it was ridiculously fun. However that life forever ended the moment his grandfather passed away.
The old man had been deeply religious, the kind who spent every Sunday in the same church, knowing everyone by name and occasionally dragging him along. Not long before his death, he had spoken about one of his greatest wishes: that one of his beloved grandchildren would follow in his footsteps and become a priest. Someone who could help guide others in the name of the lord.
Jungkook had been his only grandchild. It didnât take a genius for him to understand that the dream was targeted towards him. Out of respect for the man who had sacrificed so much for their family, Jungkook changed everything about himself.
No matter how much he didnât want to, he left his fraternity, stopped going to parties and abandoned the path he had originally worked so hard to follow. Photography had always been his passion. He had loved capturing things that stole his attention, flowers blooming, stray animals that had a sense of elegance, and architecture that was majestically hit by the light in what felt like golden hour.
His frat brothers used to tease him endlessly for it, considering it was more the cliche for someone in a fraternity to be studying sports science or athletics.
But he never cared; he would never be ashamed of something he loved.
Now the camera he once carried everywhere sat untouched in a drawer, probably somewhere under a thick bible.
Instead, his days were filled with long hours at the church, listening to confessions and offering advice he wasnât even sure people needed. And somehow, he had become something of a fan favourite amongst all their parish members, meaning he was always suggested or asked for, resulting in his schedule being three times busier than everyone else's.
It was flattering, of course, but exhausting.
Still, Jungkook swallowed every bit of frustration and carried on with his work. After all, this was the life he had chosen.Â
Or at least, the life he had convinced himself he needed to live.
He quietly stepped into the confession box, where it would be just him and one other, careful to muffle the regular echo of his shoes.
âHello again, Mr Kim,â he said, sitting down with his much-rehearsed public speaking voice.
âAh, is that you, Jungkook? Just who I had hoped to talk to,â the old man said in response.
âSo tell me, what would you like to talk about today?â
âFucking hell,â Jungkook said, exhaling as he finally got to the one place where he was certain he wouldnât be bothered for any more work.
He had stopped by his favourite bar on the way home, eager to decompress with a tall beer that had just the right flavour, one he could only get at this place. The dim lighting and moderately loud music that drowned his thoughts was perfect and made the whole area far more comfortable than the formality of a church.
For the first time all day, no one was asking for his advice, no one was confessing their sins, and no one was calling him âfather.â
The bartender quickly slid him his regular order without a word, noticing the exhaustion radiating off Jungkookâs body. Usually, the two of them were quite talkative; he was someone who asked him for advice without holy connotations, making it a fun interaction, yet he knew when not to push.
He took a long sip of his alcohol and immediately began to loosen up.
God, he needed this.
Across the bar that was opposite the entrance, someone noticed him almost immediately as they walked in.
You had been leaning on the counter by yourself, also here to wind down, absentmindedly swirling the ice in your glass, when your eyes landed on him. At first, it was just curiosity.
Then you looked again. Something about him felt⊠different.
Not in a bad way. Just different.
Most of the men in this bar were hitting on girls who looked younger than them, dressed in short skirts, all with relaxed and sloppy expressions in the way late-night drinking usually produced. Yet the one across the bar sat with perfect posture, broad shoulders and a somewhat polished look that was admirable, despite his black leather jacket.
You watched as he brought his drink to his lips, slightly inked hands wrapping around the glass, and even the way he held his drink looked careful.
And then there was his face. His features were soft, his eyes wide, dark hair that was too long to be considered short, and too short to be considered long, slightly curled to frame his face.
Cute. Very cute.
You quickly waved your hand, gesturing to the bartender to come your way. When he did, you leaned in and talked to him loud enough to hear over the music, but quiet enough so your mysterious man wouldnât be able to overhear.
âWhatâs up? Another drink already?â He asked, looking down at your glass that was hardly half empty.
You pointed over his shoulder, âJin, who is that over there?â
He turned to meet where you were pointing, struggling to find where you were gesturing, âWho? That guy?â
âNo, no. That one! The one in the leather jacket with adorable puppy eyes.â
A moment of realization crossed his face, and he slowly nodded, âOhh, yeah, thatâs Jungkook. Heâs a regular here. Comes here after work sometimes; heâs a nice guy.â
âJungkook, huh?â You repeated, a smirk coming across your face. âThink you could send him a drink for me?â
He hesitated for a moment, âI donât know about that Y/n⊠It looks like heâs had a pretty hard day today. I wouldnât overstep.â
âOh, come on, Jin!â You batted your eyelashes at your older friend, who always seemed to have your back when playing wingman at the bar, âjust one. Whatâs the worst that could happen?â
He sighed and shook his head in disapproval, âFine. Youâre lucky I know what he likes; heâs pretty picky.â
Without another word, he quickly turned around, throwing his cloth over his shoulder and quickly heading to the tap to dodge any more requests of yours while you called out a thank you, met with the wave of a hand.
You waited eagerly as you watched Jin turn to face Jungkook, who had coincidentally just finished his original glass of beer, seemingly pondering whether or not he should order another. While mid thought Jin slowly slid him the drink from you, and an expression of confusion crossed his face.
âOh, I didnât order another drink,â you heard him reassure. God, his voice was like honey.
âDonât worry, this has been sent by someone.â
His eyebrow raised, âsent by someone? Who?âÂ
He watched as Jin gestured to the counter beside him, toward a girl his age, already smiling at him, her head resting in her palm, exaggerating pouty lips. You were gorgeous, that was clear to anyone's eyes.Â
âYouâre welcome,â you said from not far away, voice light but teasing as Jin left to attend to different customers. âYou looked like you were stressed, so I figured you could use a hand. Or a drink.â
 Jungkook smiled awkwardly and cleared his throat, âThanks.âÂ
He hesitated for a moment before picking up the glass, glancing back at her, seeing deep brown eyes that had him not wanting to look away.
âYou alone today? Drinking in silence?â You asked, trying to start a conversation.
He wasnât sure whether to be annoyed or intrigued by the person showing interest in him when he clearly felt like being alone. You had that confident way of speaking, like you expected him to answer with nothing but honesty, and possibly already knew how the night would end.
âI just needed to get my mind off things,â he muttered, swirling his drink in his hand.
âA break, huh?â you repeated, tilting your head so your hair fell perfectly over your bare shoulder, âthatâs fair. But I think you could use a little more than just a beer. Maybe⊠A conversation?â
And just like that, the ice was broken. Jungkook had initially come here in hopes of being alone, drinking away his frustrations, and not conversing with anyone. Although something about your eagerness intrigued him.
He didnât mind talking to a pretty girl. For the first time that night, the stiff professional mask heâd worn all evening slipped away, replaced by the version of himself he hadnât shown in years.
He ran a hand through his hair and smirked, slowly pulling the chair beside him out a little further, gesturing for you to take a seat.
Without second thought, you smiled and grabbed your belongings, transferring seats quickly. As you planted yourself beside him, subtly scooting the bar stool closer toward him. You quickly introduced yourselves as if you didnât already know his name, and the two of you got to talking.
You chuckled, âI have to say, from first glance it seemed like you were too serious to be in a bar like this.â
âToo serious? Well, clearly not serious enough to be unaproachable seeing that you sent me a drink without question,â he said, gesturing to the drink you provided for him.
 You shrugged, âNot too serious for me.â
You smirked as you leaned your elbow against the counter, the coldness not bothering you as you let the subtle closeness between you and him linger.
âYouâre not as stiff as I thought,â you said, swirling the last bit of your drink. The warmth of the alcohol settled comfortably in your chest, making everything feel a little easier. âI assumed someone sitting that stiff in a leather jacket would be impossible to crack.â
He let out a low chuckle that was music to your ears, flashing a smile that made your heart flutter, eyes flicking up to meet you, âIs that so? Maybe Iâm just selective about who gets to see me loosen up.â
This whole interaction was new to him. Since becoming a priest, he never even dared get this close with a woman other than his mother, not risking temptation since he knew it was something he missed every day.Â
But there was no harm in having a little bit of fun, was there? The only thing he had to do was stop before things went too far. No shame in flirting, after all, it was you who started it.
âOh?â You raised an eyebrow, letting a little teasing tone creep into your voice, âand how would someone qualify for that privilege?â
He leaned forward slightly, resting a forearm on the bar between you two. The faint scent of his cologne was already starting to get to you. âHm,â he murmured, letting his gaze roam over your face, teasingly flickering down just a little in a way that was far too deliberate. âI think you might be close. But youâd have to prove it.â
You laughed softly, and the sound made his chest tighten. âProve it? Is that a challenge, Jungkook? Because I do like a good challenge.â
God, you wanted him. The way he kept leaning closer, and the way his knee never moved away from yours, told you he probably wanted you too.
âAnd extra points for being so⊠bold,â he shot back, a smirk tugging at his lips.
The word bold lingered in the air, heavy. It was hard not to notice how his dark eyes glanced past your lips now and then, struggling to pry his gaze away, giving a warm feeling deep in your core. Somewhere behind you, a glass clinked loudly against the bar, but neither of you looked away.
You leaned in just a little bit closer, testing where he would stop you, and let your hand brush the back of your glass, meeting his in a way that looked like an accident. Jungkookâs hand froze when it brushed yours. For a second, neither of you moved. His jaw clenched at the contact he so wanted to deepen.
Jungkook knew he should probably stop this now. But he didnât move away.
âYouâre dangerous,â he said with a smirk.
âDangerous?â You echoed, âNot nearly as dangerous as you think.â His gaze dropped to your collarbone for a split second before snapping back to your eyes that burned through his brain.
âDonât worry. Thereâs no fun without danger,â it was subtle, and almost hard to miss, but he winked at you smoothly, sending another small rush of heat up your neck
You bit your lip to keep from laughing at the heat rising within you, âAre you flirting with me?â You teased.
He shrugged, leaning a little closer so his voice dipped into a lower tone, âOnly if you can handle it,â he said quietly.
He knew he was playing with fire; he knew it would be hard to leave you now, but he was already so deep, and it felt like there was no going back.
Jungkook lifted his glass again, realizing a little too late that heâd already had more than he planned tonight. Under the counter, you felt the brush of his knee against yours, and he shifted, looking up at his face, you saw a subtle smirk which told you that every movement he did was deliberate, making your breath hitch as you laughed, âI always put up a fight.â
The two of you stayed there for what felt like hours. You bought multiple rounds of drinks, which resulted in both of you getting borderline drunk, making you more confident than usual. You laughed at all of his jokes, even the dry ones that werenât that good.Â
As you continued to flirt, testing the waters of how far you would let yourself go, the bar around you began to blur. The music was still there, of course, but the laughter and chatter that came from everywhere but your own conversation was like background noise compared to the sparks between you two. Every brush of a knee, every glance held for a moment too long made your insides tingle.
âWhat would you do if I asked you to get out of this place, hm?â You asked while taking a sip of your drink, keeping eye contact while you sipped and looked up, voice low and teasing as your other hand rested lightly near his. Not touching, but close enough for him to feel it.
Jungkook leaned back slightly, smirk still in place, voice above a murmur, âDonât tempt me.â
âI tempt you?â You said with a smirk, catching the change in tone.
âYou have no idea,â he muttered, leaning in just a fraction so that his shoulder brushed yours. The contact was swift, but it left your skin hot.
You tilted your head toward him, eyes gleaming with mischief, âwell like I said, I enjoy a challenge. Once I start, you might find me hard to resist.â
He choked back a laugh, âbold words for a girl I just met.â
âNot just words,â you whispered, leaning closer, the faint scent of your perfume mixing with his cologne. âActions speak louder,â you murmured. Slowly, deliberately, you let your hand slide from the counter to his thigh.
His heartbeat began to rise. What was he doing? He should stop now. He should leave and go home. This wouldnât end well.Â
But he couldnât. The tension was thick, and you both froze for a moment, eyes locked on each other. Your pulse hammered in your ears as you gently squeezed his thigh, which you felt tense, your breath coming in a fraction too fast. He was close, closer than any stranger had ever been, and yet there was nothing uncomfortable about him; he felt like someone youâd known for years.
The tension between you was unbearable now. His eyes dropped to your lips again, slower this time. For a second, neither of you moved. Then you closed the distance. As you slowly felt him hesitantly kiss you back. Leaning into it, your hands found their way to his neck, gently cupping the nape where his hair swirled. For a moment, he didnât move. Then his hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer.
Your hands tangle in his hair, and you pull him closer, lips smacking every second as you enjoy the unique flavour of him and alcohol on his tongue. Each time he parts his mouth, you take it as an opportunity to lick into his mouth, making the kiss a whole lot more intense than before. It was so much more passionate than anything youâd ever experienced, not even paying thought to the fact that you were kissing a stranger.
When you finally pull away, both panting and his hair messy, you place a dainty kiss on the corner of his lips. You give him a wink before carefully grabbing his hand and guiding him away from the bar, not giving him a moment to refuse.
He thought about saying something so you two wouldnât have to go be in private, but he couldnât find the words. Something inside him didnât want to.
You quickly led him to the barâs bathroom, which you were thankful for being so large and private, locking the door behind you both.
As you turned around, you were met with his wrecked expression, eyes wide and lips swollen as if he had gotten into a brawl. You stepped toward him slowly this time. Jungkook didnât move. His chest was rising faster now, eyes fixed on you like he knew exactly what was about to happen, yet still couldnât bring himself to stop it.
When you reached him, your hand slid up to the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair. Then you kissed him again. Harder this time. More intense due to the privacy you now had.
As you made out with him, he tried to get you off him, restricting himself as much as he could. But of course, his attempts were only mental. He couldnât bring himself to push you away or say something, as this was something he craved so much. He found himself deepening the kiss and being the one to kiss you with tongue now, earning several whimpers and moans from you that made his stomach feel things.
To his displeasure, he felt his jeans become tighter, obviously compensating for the growing tent in his pants. He was painfully hard, and it was only getting worse. It was his first time in years that he was getting some action, and it felt impossible to stop right now.
It didnât take long for you to notice the way his jeans strained when he shifted. You gently cupped the front of his jeans with your palm and heard an unmissable loud moan come from Jungkook as you did so.
You released him for a moment and giggled. You saw his cheeks get red from embarrassment of not being able to contain himself, his expression already looking fucked out even though he hadnât had any release.
âOh, needy are we?â You teased as you slowly got on your knees, eager to make him feel good as it seemed he really needed it.
As you started unbuckling his belt, and it finally hit him what was happening, making him look for strength deep down to protest.
âUm, Y/n, Iâm sorry but- oh god,â he breathed, biting his lip in attempts to contain himself as you pulled his pants down to his thighs, again, palming him through his underwear that had already gained a spot of wetness.
âRelax,â you said, hand tracing up and down his lower stomach, inching down closer toward his member, âjust let me make you feel good.â
You started kissing up and down his stomach, his small whimpers and moans being a rhythmic melody that you wouldnât ever get sick of.
When your fingers reached the waistband of his Calvin Klein briefs, Jungkook sucked in a sharp breath. For one dangerous second, he didnât stop you. His head tipped back slightly against the wall, eyes closing as if he was surrendering to it. Then reality slammed into him for a second time. His eyes snapped open, and his hands shot down to grab yours.
âI- I canât,â he said, forcing the words out as he hated himself for turning down such a beautiful woman offering to give him a blowjob. His friends would kill him if they heard this.
Your gaze flashed against his for a quick second, taking in his expression. To you, it simply looked like hookup jitters. He was probably just nervous or something, leading you to continue to kissing down his body, not minding the restraint of your hands.
âY/nâ Iâm serious,â you didnât even think to get up. Itâs not your fault though, why would anyone in the right mind even try to pull you off when you were literally on your knees.
Jungkook now cursed himself for letting it get this far. He should have never offered you a seat next to him, and he much more should not have decided to come back here with you. What was he doing!
It was about to get worse but the next bit of intense contact that was you getting dangerously close to his member made him jolt backwards, eyes widening and almost stumbling to the floor.
âNâno, Y/n I canât!â He firmly threw your hands off him as if they burned him.
You finally slowed yourself down and look at his expression, your brows furrowed in confusion. His face was fully pleading, almost even begging you to give a moments relief. You still sit on your knees, hands hovering over the spot where he had thrown them off, confusion filling your whole body.
You sat down lower, not being bothered by the lack of hygiene on the bathroom floor, âIâ I donât understand. Are you married?â
He bit his lip, âNo.â
âDating?â
âNo.â
âThen I donât understand why you donât want to do this⊠is something wrong?â
 âNo. I just⊠I canât.â
âWell, you clearly want to,â you said, gesturing to the large tent in his pants that looked almost painful.
Embarrassed, he grabbed the edges of his pants and pulled them back up, struggling to get past his boner. For a second, he just stared at you, slightly breathless, like he was still catching up with what had just happened.
âLook, Iâm sorry,â he said quietly. âI really did have fun tonight.â His eyes lingered on you for a second longer than they should have. âItâs just⊠Itâs because of my job. I canât.â
And with that, he left you on the bathroom floor, making you rethink every decision you had made that night, wondering if you were the issue. Did you take it too far? Were you not pretty enough for him and he was just too polite to say? You really didnât know.
Hell, what kind of job even requires you not to have sex? You couldnât think of any.
Would he really lie to you like that?
As Jungkook rushed out of the bar with a defeated expression, tempted to turn back around and fuck your brains out, he did his best to conceal the noticeable lift in his jeans. He attempted to cover it by holding his leather jacket in front of him, but the waddle in his walk was unmistakable.
He quickly paid both his and your tab as a sort of apology and headed straight for his car, driving home in record time, almost crashing along the way.
The moment he unlocked his apartment's door, he threw his jacket on the sofa and dragged a hand down his face, immediately stripping to get into the shower.
He had hoped that the drive home and the time he was walking would have lowered his hard on, but he had been so pent up that he didnât think there was anything that would get rid of it.
He turned the shower handle all the way to cold and stood in silence, trying to think about anything that made him feel less hard. He didnât understand the science behind it, but nothing would work, and he was beginning to get frustrated.
âAish, can you just piss off?â He yelled at his own dick.
He thought about just beating one out right here. But morally, it seemed like masturbating was more frowned upon than the action of actually having sex.
After minutes, maybe hours of thinking of all the old people who had called him father in the confession box, his boner finally died down, and he let out a sigh of relief. His hands had turned to prunes, and redness stayed there from clenching his fists so hard.
He had never been tempted so hard today. You were just some random girl he was flirting with; he wasnât about to jeopardize his career over you. But why did he feel he needed to? And why did he want to?
âJENNIEEEEEEE!!!â A loud cry yelled from outside your bedroom, seemingly coming from the living room where you assumed your roommates lay.
You tried to ignore the screeching yells, covering your ears with your pillow and groaning as it was too early and you were battling a hangover from the previous night. You were still affected by the man from before, still wondering why he had turned you down so abruptly, making you question everything.Â
âUGHHHHHH!!â Another loud cry came, echoing throughout your whole apartment, unmissable and causing you to sit up in your bed.
Jesus Christ, could he be any louder? Someone better be dying, or else youâd do the job yourself.
Not even bothering to tame your crazy bedhead or rub the sleep out of your eyes, you opened your bedroom door and marched toward the noise, both tired and angry.
âWho the hell is screaming at 7 in the fucking morning-â
âY/NNNNNNN!âÂ
You looked around the room and noticed both of your roommates up and ready for the day, both experiencing completely different emotions. One was standing up with furrowed brows and a fed-up expression, obviously trying to deal with the other one, who was lying down on the couch while hugging a pillow so tight that it squished his face, wailing about god knows what.
You tried to get through to him and search for an answer to what was happening, but you were repeatedly cut off with the sound of his cries, adding to your bad mood.
âJimin, whatâs wrong with Tae?â You finally asked, turning to your other roommate, who was clearly a whole lot more mature.
He sighed, âJennie broke up with him.â
âJENNIE WHYY,â Taehyung cried from the couch at the sound of her name.
You were taken aback for a moment. Taehyung and Jennie truly seemed like a power couple that could get through anything. You were surprised they had broken it off⊠then again, if she had to put up with this, you didnât blame her.
You exhaled, trying to plaster on an apologetic expression to mask your annoyed one, âTaehyung, tell us what happened.â You said, kneeling in front of the armrest of the couch, getting on his level.
He sniffled before responding; he was such a child despite being older than you. âShe told me that- she said that I wasnât mature enough for herâŠâ
You raised an eyebrow. Well, she wasnât going to lie and tell him he WAS mature enough. Jennie was very smart and strong-willed; a more mature man truly couldâve been a better match for her.
You sighed, âwell whatâre you gonna do about it? Taehyung, she's not coming back. Get up from the couch, you need a fresh start.â You stood up and watched his eyes follow you, and waited for him to stand beside you.
You repeated for him to get up, and he reluctantly complied, now with proper posture and a sniffle, wiping his tears from his eyes.
âF-fresh start,â he repeated, âYouâre right.â
âYeah, a fresh start⊠maybe start with therapy, Tae,â you mumbled under your breath.
You looked to Jimin, and he nodded, impressed you had gotten into his head so quickly, as it usually took days, âI do need a new start.â
You both smiled in encouragement. Suddenly, it looked like Taehyung got a burst of an idea, and he jumped up, shocking both of you, and immediately changing his behaviour.
âI need to get baptized!â He yelled out.
Both you and Jimin froze. âWhat the fuck?â You both said in unison.
âA baptism!â Taehyung repeated, âItâs perfect! Itâs a complete fresh start, and it wonât even take that long!â
Of course. The grown man who cried over a breakup now wants holy water therapy.
What a day you were having, truly. Experiencing whatever the fuck level of immaturity happened with what you thought was prince charming last night, and now this complete jester in front of you.
âIsnât that the kind of thing babies get? Youâre a grown ass man,â Jimin stated, trying to make sense of this dumb idea.
âYeah, Tae, out of all your ideas I think this is by far the dumbest. When I said fresh start, I meant like get a haircut or something. Buy a cat. Not⊠a baptism.â
He shrugged, âWell, either way, Iâll be the new Taehyung. The one that Jennie wonât break up with again!â
Was this guy serious? He obviously wasnât getting back together with Jennie any time soon, either. He brushed you off, eyes telling you it wasnât worth it, and you bit back your words.
Tae quickly grabbed his bright red phone from his back pocket, typing something at lightning pace, focused and determined. He almost dropped it countless times, reminding you of how clumsily he was and how cracked his poor phone had gotten over the years.
âWhat are you doing?â Jimin asked.
âScheduling my baptism.â
âOh my god, Taehyung,â you rubbed your temples. This, on top of a hangover, really was playing with your mind. âI donât even think this is something you can schedule for so soon.â
He waved you off without looking up, âRelax, I know a guy.â
Of course, he did. He always knew a guy.
âSo you just happen to have a priest in your contacts? Youâre not even religious.â
âIt was a guy I went to Uni with. Trust me, heâll find time.â
âDude, donât bother your friend for something as stupid as thisââ
âDone!â He yelled out, cutting Jimin off completely.
Before he could even put his phone back done and let his dumb idea simmer, a ding echoed throughout the room and he pressed it back to his face, eyes panning over the screen.
He squinted at the screen and jumped up happily, throwing a fist in the air in victory, âThis Saturday, your boy is getting baptized!â
He started shadow boxing, and pumping his fists as if he was getting ready for a fight. You were embarrassed at the sight. How could a man this old be this ridiculous? You couldnât believe you had chosen to live with an idiot.
When Saturday finally came, the weather was miserably cold, grey, and completely wrong for a baptism. Youâd been dragged out of bed against your will far earlier than necessary, even though the ceremony wasnât until the afternoon.
Taehyung had been up since sunrise, pacing the apartment like he was preparing for a marathon instead of getting dunked in holy water.
âDo you think they let you pick the temperature of the water?â he asked for the third time that morning.
âTae,â Jimin groaned from behind, âitâs not a hot tub.âÂ
As you waited in the church for Taehyungâs priest friend that had summoned them you took in the architecture, noting how you hadnât ever been in a place like this before.
When you turned around, a man dressed in black stood in front of Taehyung with his back to you. He was clearly the priest. But something about the slight wave in his dark hair felt strangely familiar.
âTaehyung, I cannot believe you asked me to do this.â The figure voiced, tone professional yet annoyed. Where did you know that voice from?
âSee, even the priest thinks this is a dumb idea!â Jimin clapped, throwing his hands up in disbelief.
âItâs not a dumb idea! And itâs not my fault, itâs Jennieâs for breaking up with me because why the fuck-â
âLanguage. Youâre in a church,â The priest snapped, crossing his arms. You couldnât see his expression, but you could tell he was close with Taehyung, reaching that teasing level that you and Jimin were at too.
âWhatever. But this is a good idea, Y/n, tell them!â
You didnât understand why, but when your name was said, you saw the priestâs shoulders tense, and you straightened up, joining the conversation.
âYeah, Iâm not on your side like you think. I could be doing so many better things than-âÂ
You watched as the man dressed in all black formal wear turned to face you, and you froze. Your eyes widened. You remembered the embarrassing moment of when you couldnât take the hint and he left on the bathroom floor, making your cheeks suddenly turn red.
Holy shit, why were you here?Â
Jungkook had hoped he would never have to face you again. The night from the bar was one of both the worst and best experiences of his life. Seeing you here now, everything came flooding back, and he felt embarrassed at his fleeting scandal.
Neither of you said anything. The silence stretched between you until Taehyung cut through it.
âWell, guess what, Iâm who's paying, so I donât have to listen to any of you,â he said with a hmph.
Jungkook snapped out of his trance, looking away from you and shaking his head in disapproval, âYouâre not paying me-â
âIrrelevant!âÂ
Jungkook threw his hands up in defeat, rolling his eyes. He gestured for you all to come to a specific area in the church, occasionally glancing at you, but not enough for Jimin or Tae to notice.
When you reached a light-filled room with white walls, Jungkook asked Taehyung to take off his jacket and step into the large tub in the center.
He raised an eyebrow, âHere? Seriously? I thought itâd be like a whole ceremony kind of thing⊠Not a small bathtub in a room.â
Jungkook sighed while helping him with his jacket, âwell usually yes, but to be fair theres only three of you. So this is what you get.â Taehyung didnât even try to hide his displeasure.Â
The moment the baptism began, Jungkook seemed to change completely. The teasing tone from earlier disappeared, replaced with something calm and steady as he spoke. You were still shocked that the man whom you had flirted with in a bar for hours straight was a priest.
Could they even drink? Were they even allowed to be in bars? What kind of young man even took an interest in becoming a priest, for godâs sake? At least now you know why you were turned down. But still, it was weird to know that you almost slept with a sexy priest.
You tried to focus on what was actually happening, but your thoughts kept flicking back to Jungkook and the other night instead of Taehyung being thrown into a body of water.
Jungkookâs voice changed completely as he began speaking, calm and steady, the teasing edge gone. Taehyung looked less confident suddenly, standing knee-deep in the water as Jungkook placed a hand on his shoulder.
It was over in a minute, and as Taehyung rose, shivering, teeth chattering, exclaiming that they shouldâve made the water warmer, Jungkook and Jimin did nothing but laugh at him.
He quickly rushed out to change into drier clothes with the help of Jimin, who was forced to help, leaving you and Jungkook alone in an awkward silence as he tried very hard not to look at you.
Or the tightest pair of jeans heâd ever seen.
âSo⊠this is your job?â You asked awkwardly, breaking the silence.
He nodded, continuing to mop up the mess and staring at the floor.
âI have to say I wouldâve never guessed.â
âYou and everyone else,â he joked.
You straightened up, thinking of something else to say, âI thought priests couldnât drink. Ungodly or some shit.â
He tensed, âcommon myth. And donât swear in the church.â
âSorry.â
The silence stretched again. âSo,â you said, tilting your head, âdoes the whole priest thing include leaving girls alone in bar bathrooms?â
His jaw clenched, and he hesitated for a moment before answering, âThat shouldnât have happened.â
âYeah, you said that.â You stepped closer, stopping just behind him. He couldnât see you, but he definitely knew you were there. âYou clean up nice, though,â you murmured.
He tried very hard not to notice the way your voice softened when you were teasing him. Jungkook had heard thousands of confessions in his life, but none of them had made him this nervous.
âWhat?â
âThe whole priest thing. The collar, the formality,â you teased lightly, âI can get behind it⊠or on top of it. Either is fine.âÂ
He turned to face you, and you were met with a pleading expression, âPlease stop. Y/n, you know I canât.â
âYour voice is saying one thing, but the other night your body clearly said something else.â
He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply as if trying to regain control, âIf you keep doing this,â he said quietly, âIâm not going to be able to-â
He didnât finish. But he didnât have to.
âY/n, weâve gotta go.â Jimin burst into the room where you and Jungkook were, both of you looking up at the abrupt entrance. âTae wants to dye his hair blue.â
You sighed. You really couldnât catch a break today, could you? âAlright, Iâll be there in a sec.â
Jimin nodded and exited before you, leaving the room heavy with silence again.
âSee you âround, Father,â you said teasingly. And with that, you walked out the door, feeling his eyes follow you until they couldnât anymore.
The door shut softly behind you, and the room fell quiet again. Jungkook stood frozen where youâd left him, staring at the empty doorway. He shouldnât have let things get that close again. He shouldnât have looked at you the way he just had.
Yet the image of you walking away with that teasing smile and confidence in your voice refused to leave his mind. Jungkook pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose and muttered to himself,
âGod help me,â he muttered. And for the first time he had no faith.
[01:23 am] You: hey, father
You noticed the three dots appear clearly, then stop for a few seconds before responding. Reading that message and catching onto the teasing tone, Jungkook didnât even need to ask who this was.
[01:24 am] Jungkook: how did you get my number?
[01:24 am] You: taeâs phone
Of course.
[01:24 am] You: so tell me something
[01:24 am] Jungkook: no
[01:24 am] You: do priests ever think about sex?
There was a long pause before his response came.
[01:25 am] Jungkook: you should go to sleep.
[01:25 am] You: itâs not fun without you
[01:25 am] You: I was literally on my knees for you, donât I deserve a conversation?
Fucking hell, you were testing him. You talking about it made all the memories come flooding back to him. He remembered the desperate look in your eyes as you fumbled with his belt, changing to plant dainty kisses all over his abdomen, tempting him to come undone right there.
He couldnât even lie; he wanted you terribly. If he were able to, he wouldâve tightly grabbed you by the hair and shoved himself further down your throat. Eager to hear you whimper, eager to get off on you.
He mentally cursed at himself when he felt his pyjamas become tight again, frustrated that this time it was from his dirty mind.
He stared at the screen, thumb hovering. God, why were you doing this to him?
[01:27 am] Jungkook: youâre fucking testing me you know that
[01:27 am] You: oh trust me I do
The three little dots appeared for a moment. Then disappeared. The reappeared.
[01:28 am] Jungkook: I want you to stop texting me.
[01:28 am] You: and whyâs that
[01:28 am] You: I make you too hard?
[01:28 am] Jungkook: oh baby you have no fucking idea
You smirked when seeing that he had called you baby. You hadnât expected him to be so forward in admitting he already had a hard on.
[01:29 am] You: If I were there Iâd be able to help
[01:29 am] You: make you feel things you never have before
[01:29 am] You: i give a mean handjob.
He bit his lip, trying to contain himself. He already imagined exactly what you could do⊠and cursed himself for it. His fists clutching the bedsheets, breathing hitched, heart racing. Every word you typed made it worse. He was undone, spiralling, and he hated that he wanted more.
You kept texting him dirty things about how you would make him feel, how his release would feel like heaven, and it just overstimulated him a whole lot more.
[01:31 am] Jungkook: srop[
His hands were fumbling.
[01:32 am] You: you wish
He watched as you paused for a moment and he wondered why. The three dots vanishing and coming back, making him more eager to know what you had in store for him
It felt like just a moment he looked away, and when he returned, he was met with a photo of you, back arched fully, showing your perfectly round ass, in nothing but your black under garments, and long silky hair covering your shoulders.
[01:33 am] Jungkook: fuck
[01:33 am] You: your turn ;)
He could imagine your smirk behind your phone as you found pleasure in teasing him.
Jungkook shouldnât have done it. He knew that even before his thumb pressed send. But something compelled him to do it; itâs like you were a witch, and he didnât have a choice.
His thumb hovered over send, hesitating. But your words, your teasing, your voice in his head, he couldnât resist. In one shaky moment, it was sent.Â
[01:34 am] Jungkook: 1 attachment
A blurry photo appeared on your screen as you clicked open. It looked as if it had been taken quickly, like he hadnât even thought about it. Just the outline of his pyjamas and the unmistakable shape beneath them. It looked like the poor fabric was holding back a complete monster; he was big, and this proved it.
Jungkook stared at the message in horror the moment it was sent, realizing what he had just done.
Shit.
[01:35 am] Jungkook: Delete that right now.
Pause. Then another message.
[01:35 am] Jungkook: I shouldnât have done that
He started spiralling. Why had he done that? God, that was the first step in denying everything he stood for. What would the other priests think? Had his grandfather seen that from above? Fuck! Why would he send a picture of his hard dick to a girl he barely knew, when it was clear that he wasnât even supposed to think about sex?
[01:35 am] Jungkook: Forget that happened.
[01:35 am] Jungkook: Seriously.
You didnât respond.
[01:35 am] Jungkook: Y/n.
You were enjoying the fact that he lost control. And you were also enjoying the fact that he was clearly going insane.
[01:37 am] You: wow.
[01:37 am] You: so the priest does get tempted
[01:38 am] You: I have to say, that doesnât look very holy, father
Jungkook tossed his phone onto the bed as if it hurt. Ten minutes later, he turned it back on. Heart racing. Thumbs trembling. And there you were, waiting.
[01:50 am] Jungkook: Y/n, please delete it.
[01:51 am] You: in your dreams
Something was really wrong with him.
Sometime near sunset, the apartment was filled with soft shadows, and golden light slipping between the blinds. In the middle of it all, Taehyung was pacing like a caged animal, muttering about shadows moving in corners and doors creaking when no one was there.
âHe swore he saw⊠something,â you muttered, casting a glance at Jungkook as he stepped inside. His collar was crisp, hair neat and expression unreadable, but with a flicker of something between the surface.
âIâŠÂ didnât know you guys were roommates,â he said carefully, voice calm and measured like he was trying not to react when seeing you.
You smirked and moved closer to adjust the incense stick he held, rearranging it in the little burner.
If he had known you and Taehyung shared an apartment, maybe he wouldâve prepared himself better. Straightened his collar a bit more, done his hair, and maybe even took a deep breath to steady himself. Seeing you now, so casual and confident⊠it was disarming.
You handed him a glass of warm chamomile tea, watching him accept it with a soft, almost hesitant âthank you.â Your fingers brushed his for a brief moment, and you saw his jaw clench. It was a small bit of contact, but enough to send a jolt straight to his core.
âOver here!â Taehyungâs voice yelled, cutting through the tension. He dragged you two up and pointed toward the far corner of the hallway, âI swear, it moved, right there!â
A pinch of sunlight moved, causing your own shadow to cross the area Tae was pointing to in perfect timing. He froze, eyes wide. Then he yelped, stepping back so fast he stumbled into the wall, socks sliding on the floor. Before you could get a word out, he bolted out the door in fear without even grabbing his shoes.
You blinked. âHe canât be serious.â
âThatâs Taehyung for you,â Jungkook muttered, letting out a low sigh. His expression made you think he had experienced something like this before, probably in the time he was living with Tae. He bent down, hovering the incense over the spot Taehyung claimed to be haunted, muttering silent prayers under his breath. The air filled with the warm, citrusy scent of the incense.
You didnât move. Instead, you leaned casually against the wall behind him, letting your shadow sway gently across his kneeling form. You watched him breathe, the way his shoulders tensed and relaxed, and you felt a mischievous smile tug at your lips.
âYouâre really hard to concentrate around, do you know that?â His voice was low, slightly strained, but calm.
âI know,â you replied, smirking to yourself. Your gaze lingered on him, letting the tension settle between you, turning thick.
He tried to complete his job once more, inhaling deeply, closing his eyes to focus. But your shadow moved again, this time deliberately covering his body. The incense smoke curled lazily around him, and you could see his grip on it tighten slightly.
Finally, he straightened, eyes opening just enough to meet yours. And there you were, leaning lazily against the wall, arms crossed, phone in hand. Your fingers swayed the screen lightly, teasingly. The image of him from last night, the one he had regretted sending, flashed across the screen.
âThanks for the gift, by the way,â you said softly, voice teasing, eyes locked on his. âI had lots of fun with it.â
His chest puffed out slightly, an attempt at confidence that didnât reach his eyes. âI thought I told you to delete it,â he murmured.
âAnd I didnât,â you tilted your head, âwhatâre you gonna do about it?â
He closed the distance, thumb brushing against your knuckles as he placed his hand on yours, slowly dragging your phone and the photo away from his sight. Every inch of him craved attention, yet restraint held him back. His lips parted slightly, and his breathing became shallow, eyes flicking to yours.
His breath hitched as his hand lingered over yours, quiet enough only you could hear.
You moved your other hand up to his arm, teasing, testing, and he stiffened just enough for you to notice. You leaned forward slowly, pressing a soft kiss against the edge of his lips, wanting to see how far he would let you go. He froze, lips parting slightly over yours, before his hands rose slowly, almost reluctantly, to hesitantly push you back.
For a heartbeat, time froze, and you felt the weight of everything unsaid.
âY/n, you know I canât.â He said it like it hurt, eyes pleading for you to understand that this was against his will and he wanted nothing more than to kiss you.
You sighed, disappointed, âBut you want to?â
âFuck, of course I want to,â he swallowed hard, jaw tight. He shook his head as if he was trying to free himself of the temptation. âBut I made a vow, and I canât break that.â
Every instinct screamed at him to bend the rules, but his vows weighed heavier.
The tension between you two lingered; you wanted to argue, tease, tempt. But this time decided not to.Â
Finally, he stepped back. He couldnât let himself. Couldnât risk it. The weight of restraint pressed down on him visibly. He turned and began walking toward the door.
You stayed frozen for a beat, letting the moment sink in. Heart pounding, hands slightly trembling, breaths shallow. The air between you carried all the weight of what couldâve been.
The door closed softly behind him, and you let out a long exhale, leaning against the wall as if to ground yourself. Your apartment was empty now, but the heat, tension, and echo of his scent lingered like a ghost.
Your phone buzzed from somewhere afar. It was probably Taehyung asking for help, or Jimin wondering if Tae was done throwing a tantrum, and he could come home. You ignored it.Â
For now, all you could do was close your eyes, remembering the press of his hand and the feeling of his lips on yours. Left the echo of what couldâve been.
And somewhere, he was walking home, hands clenched, mind replaying every second.
âHey, so are you sure Jungkookâs coming tonight?â You asked while biting your lip.
It had been a week since your little âincidentâ with Jungkook, and you hadnât spoken to him since. You werenât entirely sure why, but contacting him felt almost mean. Last week, he had seemed so vulnerable, so affected by you, and you felt the smallest bit of guilt when getting the urge to tease him for the nth time.
âIâm not sure, heâs left me on read for ages. But he better show up or else!â Taehyung said, pouting angrily in the most unintimidating way.
To your left and down the hallway, you heard Jimin give a loud groan as he struggled with tying his tie, âWhy are we even doing this? Whatâs the point of holding a baptism dinner in our own home if you tell us to âlook super sexy?ââ He asked.
You nodded from the couch. What kind of stupid idea was this? At first, you hadnât even complied and came out in a casual pair of jeans, which, in your defence, was perfectly normal for a dinner where you would end up washing your own dishes, but was soon quickly pushed back in your bedroom to change into a more âappropriateâ outfit. Ridiculous.
âIâm with Jimin on this one.â You gestured to your outfit, âThis dress? Really?â
Taehyung had been continuously unhappy with your choice of outfits, leading him to raid your own closet without your permission. He had chosen a short black dress that had been sitting in the back of your closetâone that you only brought out on a date night where you really liked the guy.
Itâs not that you would be uncomfortable or anything, but it felt too showy to wear around just a couple of your close friends. And Jungkook.
âOh, come on. Kill me for wanting my closest friends to look passable at my baptism dinner for all my other friends, besides, Y/n, you look hot.â he turned to Jimin, and his face soured, âYou, not so much.â
âHuh? Whatâs wrong with me?â You could tell they were close to a back-and-forth, analyzing every little bit of Jimin's outfit that wouldnât end in a heated argument, prompting you to quickly cut that conversation short.
âWatch your words, Tae, if someone heard you, they would think you were flirting.â
âMe and him? Yuck. Anyways, Jungkook hasnât said anything about coming over since last week, when it was just you and him. Didnât scare him away, did you?â He looked at you with an eyebrow raised and head tilted, still oblivious to what had happened days before.
Keeping a straight face, you scoffed, âHey, Iâve done nothing of the sort. If he ghosts you, it was probably you and your clinginess.â
You knew it wasnât true.
He paid no mind to your comment and brushed you off, âHm, well, I guess weâll wait and see.â
Minutes turned into hours, and you and Jimin were bored out of your minds. The invite had said seven, but knowing your friends, they didnât surprise when being over 40 minutes late. Taehyung was off doing some pointless adjustments of your furniture, making sure everything was at the perfect angle and looking somewhat âholyâ while you and Jimin rolled your eyes, ignoring his whines for you two to assist him.
The two of you were occupying yourselves with a game of chopsticks that ended with your defeat four times, ultimately deciding to switch to a âwinner takes allâ of rock-paper-scissors.
When you lost another time, you let out a loud âfucking hell, Jimin,â and soon were cut off with a soft, rhythmic knock at the door that you all wouldâve missed if not waiting for it.
âTheyâre here, theyâre here!â Taehyung yelled out, sprinting from one end of your apartment, scurrying in a pair of white fluffy socks.
âCalm down, we see them every day,â Jimin said, rolling his eyes at Taehyungâs childishness.
Taehyungâs right hand clasped around the door handle with a loud rattle, and was quickly thrown open to show someone you truly hadnât expected to show up.
âJungkook!â He gave a shy wave, poking his head into the room, âI didnât think you would come!â
Jungkook softly smiled while being pushed into your home with the help of Taehyung, âIt felt wrong not to. I was the one who baptized you and all.â
He handed Taehyung a deeply red bottle of wine as a sort of housewarming gift, and he gratefully accepted it.
âAh, nice thinking. I wouldâve had a word with you if you didnât show,â Taehyung paced around quickly and placed the bottle of wine in the middle of the dining table.Â
âJungkook, nice to see you again,â Jimin said beside you, standing up and offering a hand to better greet Jungkook.
Shaking his hand and nodding, he smiled, âGood seeing you too.â
The first thing he noticed about you was the dress you wore, the one that felt âtoo muchâ for an event like this, and the one that felt âtoo muchâ to be wearing near someone like him.
It wasnât anything extraordinary, but the off-the-shoulder fabric that perfectly highlighted your perfect posture showed how you carried yourself with such confidence, confidence that he had never felt.
âY/n,â was all he greeted you with, and you nodded, giving back an awkward smile that made you both uncomfortable.
You cleared your throat and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, regaining composure. âSo far, youâre first to arrive. Two or three more guests are coming.â
He pursed his lips and slowly nodded, glancing around the room.Â
Almost in perfect timing, you heard another knock at the door, this one accompanied by other voices behind the door had gave you hope for a distracting night.
Saved by the bell.
You quickly rushed to the door to leave the awkward encounter, almost bulldozing Taehyung out of the way in the process, so you could be the one to open, escaping this horrid conversation.
âWelcome, welcome. New jacket, Hoseok? Looks great! And Yoongi, nice dye job,â you said with unnatural enthusiasm that only Yoongi picked up on.
âThanks, Y/n. Now, where's the baptized boy!âÂ
Hoseok gave you a quick and warm hug, swaying you back and forth before leaving to find Taehyung, greeting him with the same.
That just left you and Yoongi. You gesture for him to come in with a clearly forced smile that didnât bother to reach your eyes.
He walked toward you and gave a classic side hug, âYou feeling okay? Youâre louder than usual.â
âOh, me? Just peachy,â he didnât believe you at all, but pulled himself away, eyes lingering on you.
After a moment of greeting and multiple deep breaths that were necessary for your teasing mind that kept flashing back to you and Jungkook last week, you walked over to the circle of people.
âFoods been ready for a while, guys, shall we eat?âÂ
You all headed over to the kitchen area and passed around plates, hand accidentally brushing Jungkook's as a shiver went down your spine, not knowing he felt the same jolt.
You left for a moment to fetch the pot of food. From across the room, you caught Hoseok praising Jungkookâs taste in wine, the bottle popping loudly as it opened.
When you made it back to the dining table, you placed the pot down in the centre, unaware that someone's eyes were on you the whole time as you coincidentally reached over him and lingered for just a moment.
Standing up, you glanced around to look at the seating arrangement, looking for a place to sit.
Taehyung was sitting next to Yoongi, who was between him and Hoseok. And Jimin was sitting on the opposite side with two leftover seats to be filled by⊠You and Jungkook. Great.
It wasnât that you had a problem with the guy. God no, you were teasing him just a few nights before and were obviously trying to get into his pants. But the obvious restraint he showed you was now hitting and making you smooth your dress down instead of hike it up.
You sat down you felt your shoulders nudge Jungkook's. You stilled for a second, just enough to notice how his jaw clenched.
The dinner was filled with lots of laughs, lots of compliments and definitely lots of wine. The bottle that Jungkook had brought didnât last more than 5 minutes, resulting in the opening of multiple other bottles that you and your roommates hadnât thought of in years.
As he was first to finish his food (in lightning speed, might you add), Hoseok was the one who poured glasses for everyone despite their protests.
âOh, come on, guys, this is a celebration!â He grinned, halfway through pouring for everyone else. âWe are not sitting here sober, thatâs just embarrassing.â
You smiled at his enthusiasm and reached over to grab your glass, âFine, I canât listen to Taehyungâs entitlement sober anyway.â
âFirst of all,â Taehyung straightened instantly, offended, âthis is a sacred dinner.â
âThen why have you dressed me like weâre going clubbing?â you shot back, lifting your glass.
âThatâs because I have taste, my dear,â he replied without hesitation.
A quiet scoff came from beside you, one that only you wouldâve heard, and you didnât need to look to know it was Jeon Jungkook.
âAlright, alright,â Hoseok clapped once, raising his drink. âBefore this takes a turn into bullying, letâs toast!â
Everyone groaned, feeling that this was unnecessary, but lifted their glasses anyway.
âTo our freshly baptized boy,â he continued, nodding towards Taehyung with nothing but love, âmay he find another girlfriend who will put up with his shit and finally act normal.â
âI am normal,â Taehyung snapped.
âDebateable,â Yoongi added flatly, raising his glass with zero enthusiasm.
You tried to hold back a laugh but were deemed unsuccessful.
âCheers,â you said, bringing the glass out toward the centre of the table.
Your glasses clinked together with a warm echo. The first sip burned just enough to make you exhale, shoulders relaxing slightly as the warmth settles in.
Beside you, Jungkook drank quietly. Almost too quietly.
You felt it again, his arm brushing yours. This time, lingering just a second too long to be accidental.
Across the table, Jimin was already talking again, something about the food being âsuspiciously decent,â while Taehyung argued back as if his life depended on it.
The noise picked up quickly, voices overlapping, laughter cutting through, and Hoseok was already reaching for the bottle again, and for the first time that night, everything almost felt easy.
Almost.
Because even as you leaned forward to grab more food, even as you laughed at something stupid Jimin said, you were still very, very, aware of how many times Jungkookâs gaze had lingered on every inch of you.
Hoseok didnât even bother to ask this time, already refilling your glass before you had the chance to protest.
âHey, hey, slow down,â you laughed, trying to cover the rim with your hand. âWhatâre you trying to get me drunk? I still have to clean all this later.â
âThatâs a future you problem,â he shot back easily, nudging your hand out of the way to make space.
âHeâs right,â Taehyung said, butting in, âtonight is about me.â
âJesus Christ, if I hear that one more time, I swear to godââ Jimin groaned, raking a hand down his face.
âYou will,â Taehyung cut in immediately, âbecause itâs true.â
You watched Yoongi shake his head, looking down with a sigh, not even looking up from his glass.
You softly laughed, properly this time, at your friend's displeasure. It was subconscious, and you didnât notice it, but Jungkook did.
The way your shoulders relaxed. The way your guard dropped, just a little.Â
Beside you, his fingers slightly tightened around his glass.
âYouâre all just jealous,â Taehyung continued, pointing lazily at each of you. âI have depth now.â
âYou got water poured on your head,â Jimin deadpanned. âRelax.â
Hoseok nearly choked on his drink, laughter spilling out as he leaned forward onto the table. He waved his hands in front of him, âwait, wait,â he drunkenly wiped his mouth, âwe need a game. This is getting boring.â
âBoring?â you raised a brow. âYouâre the loudest one here.â
âExactly. Iâm carrying this.â He shot back, âbesides, we barely know anything about Jungkook.â
Jungkookâs ears perked up at the mention of his name.
âNo games,â Yoongi cut in , already shaking his head.
âToo late,â Taehyung cut in, suddenly sitting up like he;d just been handed a divine idea. âIâm with Hoseok. What should we play?â
Across you, Jimin muttered something about his life being over and you agreed, reaching for your drink again. Your arms brushed Jungkookâs for a second time in the process, longer, more careless.
You didnât pull away this time, easing up, probably due to the alcohol, and neither did he.
Hoseok pointed between the two of you suddenly, eyes narrowing in exaggerated suspicion and your hand paused in mid air. âYou two are very quiet.â
âAre we?â You asked with a shrug, finally pulling your arm back and bringing the glass to your lips.
âYeah,â he leaned back, squinting. âItâs weird.â
âForgive us for not engaging in your desire to drink the night away,â you replied, unfazed.
Hoseok raised an eyebrow, a beat filling the room.
âRight,â he nodded slowly, clearly not convinced.
Beside you, Jungkook shifted. It was slight, but you felt it.
âYouâve been quieter than me,â you added, glancing at him briefly, tone teasing before you could stop yourself.
There it was. That familiar edge. Jungkookâs gaze flickered to you, quickly and sharply.
âJust listening,â he said, voice low.
It was too calm. Too controlled. You hummed, looking away as if it didnât affect you. It did.
âAlright,â Taehyung clapped his hands once, cutting through the moment before it could stretch. âGame. Now. Iâm bored.â
âNo,â Yoongi said again.
âYes,â Hoseok replied instantly.
âWhat game?â Jimin asked with a sigh, finally caving.
âTruth or drink.â
âOh, absolutely not,â you laughed immediately.
âAbsolutely yes,â he shot back.
And just like that, things started to get worse.
The questions started off as innocent, simple things like âwho would you want to be trapped on an island with,â or âwho here would survive a zombie apocalypse?â which mostly ended with everyone picking Yoongi, even Jungkook who had known him for simply a few hours.
Each round was simple enough that none of you really took drinks⊠until Taehyungâs rounds that was.
Everything he asked was wildly inappropriate, to the level that had people either immediately drinking or outright refusing to play.
âAlright, alright,â Kim Taehyung leaned forward, eyes glinting as he scanned the table. âNew one.â
You already didnât like that tone.
âHave you ever almost hooked up with someone in this room? Or atleast thought about it?â
That made the table go quiet. Though not completely. Hoseok let out a short laugh, Jimin groaned, someone slowly reached for their drink.
But for a split second, you felt it. That pause. Your fingers tightened slightly around your glass. And beside you, Jungkook went completely still.
Noticing how unfair this question was, the only person who didnât drink, but always had your back spoke up.
âOh, come on, Taehyung, thatâs an unfair question. Thereâs only one girl at this table,â Yoongi said, rolling his eyes.
Taehyung lowered his drink after taking a large gulp. âExactly! And now that almost everyones drank, including our dearest Y/n I am madly curious as to who sheâs had a sex dream about!â
You choked on your drink as your eyes widened, âwho said anything about a sex dream?â
He shrugged innocently, âcome on though, tell us.â
âGod, no!âÂ
âPleaseeee, Iâm dying to know! Was it me?â He said with a wink and a pop of the shoulder.
You and everyone else let out a ridiculing laugh, âoh, you wish Kim Taehyung. Not in a million years.â
âOuch,â he pouted at your rejection.
âAnyways so letâs move on because weâve established that I will not be spouting my business.â
The leader of the round moved to Hoseok who loudly sighed, âwell now Iâm kind of in the mood for more suggestive stuff soââ
âYouâve got to be kidding me!â
Someone shushed you from ahead, it didnât take a genius to know it was Taehyung who was already excited at Hoseokâs âhopefullyâ flirty question.
âWhen was the last time everyone had sex?â
Atleast this question wasnât as targeting as the last one, meaning that most people answered instead of drank.
As this was a table of singles, most answers were respectable, mainly being a few months or since their last relationships. However, Taehyung shocked you all by answering with "less than 10 hours."
âTEN HOURS?â The entire table yelled, turning to face him, shock and disbelief in all your expressions.
He quickly jumped at the sudden raise of volume, targeted at him.
âYou broke up with Jennie last week!â
His cheeks flushed pink and he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, âI sort of⊠ran into her at the market before. And things got, yknow.â
A loud scoff that sounded annoyed came from beside you, âare you fucking kidding me Taehyung, I just baptised you!â
âHey, itâs not my fault, she came onto me!â Taehyung assured, throwing his hands up in defense, âI told her about everything and she said it was hot!â
âYouâre actually unreal.â
âWhat, did I sin or something?â
âNo, but I cleared my schedule that day because you wanted to be a âchanged manâ and then you go pull some shit like this! Jesus.â
You, Jimin, Hoseok and Yoongi all were trying your hardest to hide your giggles. Jungkook had been so quiet the whole night and it was such a change to see him crash out at Taehyung for having sex. It was impossible to not see it as comedic.
âYou know what,â Jungkook announced, standing up quickly. He reached over everyone but Taehyung and firmly grabbed their half filled wine glasses, now pouring the remaining liquid into Taehyungs glass that was now threatening to overflow.
âDrink.â Jungkook said, sitting back down and crossing his arms across his very⊠very broad chest.
Taehyung looked from him and his glass multiple times, face filled with shock and disbelief.
âThereâs no way. Thatâs like a full coke bottle, not even I can handle that!â He wailed.
âNot our fault you decided to grab the biggest glass in the house. And this is what you get for pissing me off. Drink up, Taehyung.â
You and the others were now loudly laughing in Taehyungâs face, Yoongi included.Â
It was new to you and everyone else to hear Jungkook so demanding considering his usual âholyâ demeanour. Even hearing him swear so harshly was a shock⊠but also somewhat of a turn on.
This new confidence that filled him transformed him into this sexy man, and the smug look on his face made you subtly cross your legs.
âNo, thereâs no way,â Taehyung said, shaking his head at rapid speed.
âDrink,â Jungkook demanded, standing his ground. âOr are you forgetting the years I spent with you at Uni? Does the name Momo Hirai ring a bellââ
âOKAY!â He immediately yelled, cutting him off, desperate for him not to continue, âfine, Iâll drink! Just⊠donât bring that up.â
See at this table only Jungkook knew what went down with Taehyung and Momo. Spoiler alert, it was the first fight where he had been put up against a girl, and also the first fight that he had ever lost. Especially in his youth.
Since that humiliating moment that everyone on campus had known about, Taehyung had put it in the very back of his mind and begged his friends to forget about it aswell. But how could you forget when the photo of him, all bloody, under a girl had 100k likes on twitter?
Taehyung stared at the glass in hand with a sour face, giving his old friend the biggest pair of puppy eyes he could portray, pleading for some hesitation so Jungkook would change his mind.
But he was only met with an encouraging nod behind intimidating eyes that he actually feared to challenge. He closed his eyes and did a quick prayer, then guzzling the very large, very red glass of wine.Â
You and the others leaned in, chanting âchugâ for your own amusement. Taehyung could always use a little humbling. When he gulped the whole thing down in one go, adams apple bobbing up and down, he released it from his mouth and placed the glass down with a clink, making a large exhale that couldâve been mistaken for a whimper.
âH-happy?â He asked, already feeling the effects of the alcohol and his sobriety of the night being ruined.
âVery. Shall we continue with the game?â Jungkook asked, smirking and leaning his elbows on the table.
âThis night definitely just got a whole more interesting,â you nodded along with Jimin.
âI had a great time tonight guys, thanks for inviting us,â Hoseok said as he was heading out the door, ushered by you.
âBye Taehyung,â he yelled toward the couch. Taehyung was already on the brink of passing out and replied with nothing above a weak mumble, fully intoxicated and woozy.
âIt was nice meeting you too, Jungkook. Iâll see you around, weâll do dinner again sometime.â
âYou too, man,â Jungkook appeared next to you, his presence washing a heavy aura around you.
âBye guys,â you said in a soft tone, âIâll see you for coffee next week Yoongi.â
He gave you a wave and a smile and the two of them were off, hopefully taking an uber after such an eventful night.
As the door finally closed it finally registered to you that it was now just you and Jungkook, standing shoulder to shoulder.
He was first to turn to you, âI had fun tonight. Thanks for inviting me, Y/n.â
You smiled. You took in the now confident personality that had him smirking down at you, definitely thanks to all the wine. Old you wouldâve been shocked that this was the same man who looked like a kicked puppy when remembering he wasnât allowed to touch you.
You reciprocated, turning your body towards him and tilting your head slightly to the side, batting your lashes and doe eyes. Oh you would never know the effect they had on him.
âIt was nice, wasnât it? And donât flatter yourself, it was all Taehyung inviting you.â
âOh?â The low, husky voice that was teasing had an effect on you that you couldnât describe, âso you didnât want me here?â
Your breath hitched. Usually you were the one teasing.
âYou didnât want to sit next to me all night?â
He was stepping closer toward you. You hadnât even realised you had turned on an angle but before you knew it your back hit the door and he was peering over you.
You felt him getting closer and your chin propped up. Did you kiss him? Was that what he wanted?
You couldnât even finish your thought before Jiminâs announcement brought you back to reality.
âGuys I canât stay up anymore, Iâm going to bed, night.â
Hearing his voice and not wanting him to catch you in such a vulnerable position, you wove your way through Jungkook's body and broke free of his trance. He smirked. Feeling in charge was something new for him, something he wouldnât get sick of.
âNight, Jimin. Take Taehyung while youâre at it, Iâll clean up.â
âUgh, fine. Night, Y/n, see you, Jungkook.â
He bent down next to the couch and used all his strength to carry a very asleep Taehyung to his bedroom. It wasnât exactly bridal style, but he was halfway there.
He grunted past the two of you and you couldâve sworn you saw sweat beads forming in the span of thirty seconds.
You chuckled to yourself and began to make way to the kitchen, already rolling up your sleeves and grabbing the remaining plates on the table.
The kitchen tap flicked on with a loud sound and you waited just a moment before you began scrubbing.
Much to your surprise, you felt a body step into place next to you and you immediately knew it was Jungkook. Without even offering, he already began rolling the sleeves of his black button up shirt so he could join in getting pasta sauce off dishes.
âMove over,â he insisted, needing the extra room to really get in there.
âOh no, you donât have to do that. You can head home I wonât be offended.â
He smiled and shook his head, âI want to. Now scooch over so I can get some of the soap.â
It took you a moment of hesitation, but you finally caved and stepped to your right, allowing him to get part of the sink.Â
It wasnât a large area in any way, meaning that you two were now rubbing shoulder with every movement and bumping elbows as you grabs pots and pans.
You worked in a comfortable silence until you were about halfway and decided to break the silence.
âCan I ask you a question?â You asked, continuing to work.
âMhm,â he hummed.
âWhyâd you decide to be a priest?âÂ
The question had been lingering in your mind since the moment you found out what he did for work. He seemed so restricted every moment of the day and you wondered why some so young who hadnât experienced life to the fullest yet would want to take this path.
He exhaled deeply, âI didnât always want to be. When me and Taehyung met I was doing a photography course. Believe me being whatever level of holy I am now never crossed my mind.â
He didnât know why he was about to unload so much of his life onto you, someone heâd barely known. Yet it felt, easy. Comfortable. When you two werenât ripping at each others clothes you could have productive conversations where he didnât feel the need to act any way, or hide anything.
âIâve never been religious or anything, I was your basic frat member. But my grandfather always was. He took me to church every now and then and no surprise he wanted me to follow the same path as him. Which was being a priest.â
You listened intently, waiting for him to finish his story.
âWhen⊠When he passed I just decided that Iâd do him a favour. Do what he always wanted me to. So I dropped out of University and here I am. Youngest priest in Busan. Or as far as Iâve known.â
You nod at his words, humming along to show that youâre listening. His story overall surprised you. Giving up something he loved for someone he loved was scary, and you admired him for being able to go through with such a life altering decision.
âDo you enjoy it? Being a priest?â
He froze. His hands stopped moving and he lets water trickle down his forearms, not bothering to wipe it away.Â
No one had ever asked him that. He hadnât even asked himself that.
Did he enjoy it. He didnât not enjoy it. But there were definitely times where he drove past his old University to pick up a friend or just simply see what it was like to be young again.
He let out a deep sigh where he face dropped, not exactly of sadness, but something similar.
âI donât know.â
You stopped your working and turned to face him, confused and interested of what he would say next.
âSometimes I get lonely. No parties, no relationships⊠I mean Iâm only 23, Y/n.â
He looked heartbroken. Reminiscing on old times, remembering what he wasnât able to participate in made him melancholy. Hearing him admit heâs lonely⊠it made your chest ache, wishing there was something you could do.
âJungkook, are you sure you wanted to be a priest?â
He had been ready to answer this question, âI donât know.â
Those three words summed up his entire experience as a religious priest, and he hadnât realised it till this night. Till this talk. Till this girl.Â
He couldnât come up with any words after that, completely unsure of what he was feeling. So the best he could offer was a turn toward you, and weak smile behind saddened eyes.
You didnât push him further. But the things you gathered from that conversation was that it didnât seem like Jungkook even enjoyed his profession. It was more of an obligation than a choice. Or something like that,
âWould you ever quit?â
He scoffed, âand do what? Itâs too late for me to go back to Uni.â
âJungkook, youâre only 23,â you said, mirroring his previous words, âitâs never to late if youâre passionate.â
The dishes were done now and you could both stare into each others eyes more intently, really connecting and valuing each others words.
He faced you front on, âitâs not that simple.â
Hesitantly, you brought a hand up to cup his cheek. He leaned into it without second thought, seeking the comfort that you offered and sighing. His skin was warm and you brushed your fingers across it to make him feel better, you could tell that he was unhappy, even if he didnât know it himself.
He slowly brought up his left hand to delicately grab your wrist from the hand that was caressing him.
âYou donât know how much this is killing me,â he sighed.
No matter how much he flirted, and no matter how much he deflected, he knew things could never go further than this. Not while he was respecting the wishes of his family.
You nodded, finally understanding his restraint, âI know.â
Before he left your hand stroked through his silky hair, desperate to get a feeling of something you hadnât, knowing that it might be the only thing you could.
You wanted to ask him to stay. Just a little longer. But you knew better..
He told you âthank you for the night,â with the face of a kicked puppy, then went home, and you finally didnât guilt-trip him at all.
After that dinner the two of you didnât talk. But it wasnât like before. Now it was just distance, giving him the space that he so needed. Before it was simple ghosting, wondering if he hated you.
Although he would be lying if he said he didnât think about you. His attraction to you wasnât mistakeable.
You were the only person who tempted him as bad as this. He had previously had no trouble, despite the numerous amounts of ladies bowing at his feet.
But something about you, something he couldnât name. Something he could feel, had him cussing himself for wanting to break his oath.
The church was quiet, too quiet. Jungkookâs cloak trailed across the marble floor as he paced, mind spinning faster than his feet could carry him. He tried hard to focus on the seminar notes, tried to lose himself in the routine but every quiet second he had to himself, he was met with your face drifting across his eyes. Every word, every laugh,every careless brush of elbows, the memories burned within your mind.
He cursed under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair. Why did you have to be like this? Why was it him of all people that you had to approach in that bar?
He shook his head, muttering low cursed, beginning to pace even faster than before.
âHello? Earth to Jungkook,â a familiar voice said, breaking through his spiral.
He froze. Namjoon, in his own matching black robe was leaning against a stone wall, arms crossed, looking more amused than concerned.
âIâve been trying to talk to you for⊠I donât know how long. You feeling okay?â
It wasnât like him to be acting so unfocused like this and you both knew it.Â
Jungkook swallowed, trying to force a calm tone out of him, âYeah, just zoned out I guess.â
His colleague didnât buy it. He never did. He pushed off the wall and gestured toward the confessional. âCome on. Step in. Lay all your troubles on me.â
He blinked, confused. âStep in? Iâm not committing any sins?â
âWell I donât know that,â Namjoon said with a shrug, already moving toward the booth. âJust come on. Itâll help.â
Reluctantly, Jungkook followed. He hesitated for a moment before entering, he had never been on this side before, the side where someone confessed instead of listened. It felt strange. It made him feel vulnerable.
Namjoon slid into his chair, opposite him, leaning forward professionally.
âTalk to me. Whatâs troubling you?â
Jungkook hesitated. His fingers fidgeted with the end of the chair beneath him, flicking and picking, mind spinning faster than ever, âI⊠I donât know if I should say.â
âYou should,â Namjoon encouraged. âJust trust me, telling someone will make it easier."
Jungkook paused for a moment, then nodded, voice barely above a whisper, as he finally decided to speak up. âOkay⊠But itâs really embarrassing.â
âEmbarrassment is my specialty. Go on.â
He exhaled sharply, preparing himself for what was to come. âIâm having trouble with the vow of celibacy.â
Namjoon raised an eyebrow, âis that so?â
âYes,â Jungkookâs throat tightened just thinking about it. âI met a girl in a bar a few days ago and I know I shouldnât, I know I canât but⊠itâs really killing me, Namjoon.â
He hummed in response, nodding slowly. âOkay. I see. Youâre human, Jungkook. Thereâs no shame nor surprise in feeling things like this, the vow is tough and we all know it. It sucks, I get it.â
Jungkookâs gaze dropped to his hands. âItâs wrong. Itâs a sin, Iâm supposed to be better. But thereâs just something about her. Usually Iâm good at containing myself, butâŠâ
He waited for him to continue, âbut?â
âSheâs different.â
Namjoon paused for a moment, considering his next words and what advice to offer. âWhat do you want me to say?â
âI donât know. Anything that will help.â
Namjoon leaned forward, resting his elbow son the divider. âListen. As a fellow priest, I canât tell you to break your vow. Thatâs not my job. But.. Jungkook, youâre the youngest worker in this church. Youâve been sacrificing yourself for years. Youâre frustrated arenât you?â
Jungkookâs chest tightened, âYou have no idea.â
âThen iâm going to tell you this as a friend,â Namjoon said softly. âYouâve experienced less things than many, as youâve given up so much. You missed out on your youth. If you were to ask me what I think, I say go with what your heart wants, you deserve it more than anyone. God forgives people for being human.â
Jungkook blinked, heart racing. Was this real? Had it been that simple? Namjoon didnât lecture him, didnât scold as expected. He understood him right off the bat.
âWell, what do I do?â
Namjoon smirked, just a little. âYou figure it out. Youâre allowed to live for yourself, Jungkook. Not just for the benefit of others.â
He took in his words. Replaying the conversation then and there to make sure he knew what decision to made.
Jungkook exhaled, finally letting some tension leave his shoulders. He felt lighter in a way. Still conflicted, but lighter.
He stood, brushing his hands down the front of his robe, meeting Namjoonâs eyes. âThank you, hyung. Really.â
He hadnât used the nickname in years. He wanted his friend to see how grateful he truly was. And the smile that he gave him showed that he did.
âAnytime,â Namjoon said. âNow go and live a little. Itâs still hard to believe your 23 and in a church, go!â
Smiling, Jungkook stepped out of the booth, letting the warm air of the church was over him. His mind raced, heart thumping. Every thought was a dangerous tug toward you. He didnât exactly know what he would do next, didnât know what would happen when he saw you again, but knew one thing was certain.
He couldnât ignore his desires anymore. Not him. Not for her.
He needed to have this. And with that he dramatically whipped off his cloak, holy persona leaving him instantly, and he darted out the church, preparing himself for what was to come.
When he barged into the bar where the two of you met he didnât know hat to expect. As the doors before him opened with a forceful push he was welcomed with the warm air and loudness of music that made it difficult to focus on his own thoughts.
He didnât know if you would even be here. I mean, why would you? But it felt wrong to show up at you and your roomates apartment so all he could do was pray that the stars aligned and you would be here somewhere.
His eyes scanned the room. He was taunted with pairs of girls of the same height and hair colour, all who resembled you but werenât the real thing.
He looked deeper. Eyes narrowing as if that would somehow help him find you faster. He paced quickly toward the bar, about to do a circle when he finally saw you.
It was almost like you knew to wait for him. You were sitting there alone. Looking as beautiful as could be and his heart fluttered at the sight. He didnât need to contain his feelings anymore. He allowed himself just to feel.
He didnât hesitate to approach you. Didnât want to. Jungkook marched right up to were you were sat, wind brushing past as he did.
When he reached you he firmly grabbed the edge of your bar stool, feeling the cold metal on his palms. All his senses were heightened. He spun you around quickly, making you yelp at the sudden movement.
Brushing the hair out of your face from the sudden move, your confused eyes darted around and met his, âJungkook? Whatsââ
He didnât wait for you to finished. He didnât give you time to react, his hand gripping the stool as he pulled you toward him, crashing his lips against yours like heâd been holding it back for days. He didnât care that people were watching. He didnât care if they were uncomfortable. They hadnât known what heâd been through.
The kiss wasnât gentle. It wasnât careful. It was desperate. It wasnât anything you had experienced before with him.
Your eyes widened when you registered what was happening. Jungkook was kissing you in a bar and it didnât seem like he had any intentions of stopping. Your hands hovered for a second, caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer, before they fisted into the front of his shirt.
He continued to make out with you like no one was watching, hands reaching your hair to bring you closer, almost scared that you would pull away after everything. He noted the flavour of cherry lip balm that was attached to your lips, eager to taste more.
âI donât care anymore,â he said inbetween pants, lips smacking as he pulled away momentarily to speak. âIâm done pretending I donât want this.â
You smirked. That brave, confident Jungkook from before had returned, and you felt your insides churn with a warm feeling.
âOh yeah?â He didnât let you, making you fight over your ability to speak. âWell what are we going to do now?â
He finally pulled back. Your teasing was amusing when it wasnât a burden.
âCome with me.â He wasnât asking. It was an order.
To tease as you normally would, you waited for a beat. Watching as he turned slightly to face you again as he was practically already out the door.
âDonât make me ask twice.â
The door barely had time to shut before he was on you again.
His hands were everywhere, almost impatient, as if he was afraid youâd disappear if he let go for even a second. Your back hit the wall with a soft thud, breath catching as he pressed into you, lips finding yours like he hadnât had enough back at the bar.
âJungkookââ you tried, but it came out weaker than intended as you were struggling for air.
He didnât stop. Couldnât.
âI told you,â he muttered against your lips, voice low and warning, âIâm done holding back.â
There was something different about him now. Less controlled. Less careful. Like whatever had been keeping him in place had finally snapped.
Your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.
That was all the permission he needed.
The walk to his room was messy. You were both half-stumbling, half-laughing and bumping into walls like neither of you cared where you were going as long as you got there.
By the time you hit the bed, your heart was racing. Your chest was rising and falling as you looked up at him through deep brown eyes that he couldnât look away from.
For a second, just a second, he paused.
Like he was giving you an out. Like he needed to know. He knew once he started, he wouldnât stop, and couldnât have you bowing out halfway through. He needed you to give him a sign. Anything to let him know you were all in.
You didnât say anything. Just reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, and his face cracked into a smile.
That was it. Whatever restraint he had was gone.
His lips were back on you instantly, grunting through every peck. His hands traced up and down your body, finding home underneath your shirt almost instantly, feeling the warm skin you held, finding himself addicted to the softness and dip of your waist.
âYouâre so perfect,â he murmured through smacks, hands continuing to glide up and down your figure, not out of lust, but admiration.
Every time he found a new spot to obsess over, he let out a weak moan, occasionally cut short by the sound of his own lips.
You hadnât expected it, but Jungkook was pretty needy in bed. He grunted every few seconds and praised you for every little thing of yours from top to bottom (probably a result of being deprived for so long).
Each time you made eye contact, you felt your heart skip a beat. It wasnât simple lust and want; he stared at you with genuine affection, as if you mattered and werenât just for sleeping with. That was enough to make you feel warm without touch.
His lips trailed down your neck with a harsh suck that would definitely leave purple hickeys for days, and you couldnât help but imagine Taehyung annoying you with questions, trying to get involved in your sex life.
He reached your waist and looked up at you with both big pleading eyes while holding the hem of your shirt, looking for a small sign of approval. When you nodded and allowed him to continue, he didnât bother hiding his excitement and lifted your shirt over your head, along with your bra, exposing you fully.
Your body caught the dim moonlight perfectly, and you looked angelic. He sat there silently, mouth slightly agape as he took in the sight before you. He didnât know if he had ever seen someone as beautiful as the girl in front of him.Â
He thought about how you were here in his bed, lying down for him, and no one else, making his pants tighten.
His eyes were wide and sparkling, gaze trailing over your body. âYou are so gorgeous,â he said, his voice low and husky, causing your cheeks to redden.
Leaning back down over your figure, he cupped your cheek, caressing it just for a moment and appreciated what god had gifted him. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, and it felt wildly romantic. You moved your jaw in unison with his, continuing to kiss him, raising your hands to smooth his silky hair.
He worshipped your body, showering you in kisses down your body, his hot breath on your skin making something within you twist. Sex with Jungkook was nothing like you expected. It was a full transaction of affection, and you had never felt something so delicate.
Slowly, he pulled down your jeans and panties in one motion, this time not bothering to ask for permission since he knew you wouldnât protest.
âBaby, youâre so wet already,â he muttered, gently holding you spread with his hands and taking in how you looked. You were spread before him, heat-exposed. He bit his lip in attempts not to moan at the mere sight of you.
It was all too much, too mesmerising and it caused him to become fully erect, pants now turning uncomfortable. He brushed it off and took in a deep breath, determined to attend to nothing but you.
It was no secret that he missed experiencing a release, but something about seeing you with such wanting eyes, so ready for him, had him more intrigued in your pleasure than his. He could wait a little longer.
He stared at you lying before him for a moment too long, causing you to look around awkwardly and get embarrassed, trying to close your legs to hide yourself.
He snapped out of his trance when seeing you retract and gently spread your legs back open to how they were before. âWhat are you doing?â
You couldnât look him in the eyes, âitâs embarrassing, okay.â
He shook his head, letting go of your left leg and nudging your jaw so you could turn to meet his eyes.
âDonât. Youâre stunning. Every bit about you,â in an act of reassurance, his remaining hand began rubbing up and down your slick with his middle and index fingers in the shape of a V. You moaned at the action, turning your head to the side at the feeling.
He leaned down, hands returning to your thighs and kissing them up and down before placing a long wet lick on your folds, going up and stopping at your clit. This time, he failed to contain himself and whimpered at your taste, already becoming drunk on the flavour. You were so perfect, he couldnât help but obsess.
Truly, how had he been living without this? Without you?
Without realising, his hold on you tightened, and it didnât take long before he transformed into his younger, more experienced self, pampering your heat with multiple kisses, causing your breathing to stutter.
Beginning to get the hang of it, his lips parted to reach more angles. His head bobbed as he sucked your clit harshly, your hands flying to his hair in attempts to ground yourself. God, for a man who hadnât had sex in a year, he was fucking insane.
His hands curled around the back of your thighs, holding you flushed against his face so you couldnât even think of squirming away, the sensation causing you to cry out. A smirk grew on his face as he heard your voice, excited and proud at the fact that it was he making you feel these things.
He buried his head deeper into your cunt, barely lifting his head for air and hummed, âfuck, baby,â vibrating your lower body.
âJ-Jungkook,â you looked down and saw his head moving up and down, left and right, causing you to feel hotter. He was so fucking sexy, and he didnât even know it.Â
For a brief moment, his tongue flattened across your slick, not moving at all, just absorbing your juices, and you cried out, âfuck, Jungkook.â
âWhat is it, baby? Canât handle it?â He asked cockily, pulling back. You wanted to tease back, but it was near impossible, your words coming out as nothing but loud wails.Â
He parted your heat yet again with long fingers, presenting him a better opening to plunge his tongue deeply into your heat, your back arching harshly as a result. Your grip on his hair tightened, and if it was painful for Jungkook, he said nothing.
He was on a roll now; nothing could stop him. He was drunk on your taste, and it was impossible to get sick of. He fought the urge to beat himself right then and there, overwhelmed at the sight of you, but held off to give you his full attention.
His level of intensity and desperation grew over time, hunger taking over. He carefully nipped at your clit with his teeth, testing to see what kind of noises you would make, and he smiled, hearing you cry out.
He made out with your cunt for what felt like hours, face becoming shiny with your juices in the process. He was making a mess all over his face, clothes and sheets. But he didnât care. He didnât care because he was making you feel good. He was making you feel good.
He knew it sounded selfish, but he wanted to see you shaking, begging for him, completely at his mercy. That wouldâve been the greatest reward for celibacy he could think of. He sucked your clit harsher than before, tongue dragging over it as if it were a lollipop with a diamond in the middle.
âYouâre so fucking sweet,â he muttered, voice muffled by your cunt, barely understandable.Â
The slow drags, clit swirling and firm sucking were becoming all too much for you, and your vision began to blur. You then felt an all too familiar fire igniting in your stomach tighten, and you knew an orgasm was coming. After all, if he kept on like this a fast finish was inevitable.
âJ-Jungkook, Iâm gonna cumââ your hands flew to your face, and you covered your eyes, unable to take it anymore.
He hummed, acknowledging your words, but didnât ever slow. Hell, it didnât even cross his mind. You tasted like fucking heaven, and he knew your release would be ten times better.
Without warning, he brought up two fingers to your entrance and pushed them inside with no ease, causing your pussy to make a wet squelching noise at the intrusion. As he bottomed them in and out, curling to hit your sensitive spots you couldnât help but cry out at the sudden feeling.
âF-fuck!â You yelled out, pussy leaking, as he continued to finger you while mixing it with his tongue, working on your clit.
He let go of your legs for just a second, and you wasted no time in wrapping them around his head, caging him closer, and he continued to go down on you despite the suffocation. He moaned deep into your cunt, and you felt your orgasm get closer and closer.
He fucked you with his fingers through limited space (courtesy of your thighs), and your hips uncontrollably bucked up into him, head lolling back as you groaned, already clenching and aware of what was to come.
âYes, yes! Shit, Jungkookââ you chanted, chasing the feeling.
He grunted as his mouth on your cunt bobbed up and down, lapping up and savouring every drip of wetness he could gather while you squirmed under him, causing him to double down.
âShit, shit, shit!â you cried at the top of your lungs as you finally broke, body fully spasming at the sensation of cumming from a mixture of Jungkookâs brutal fingers and mouth.
He felt you clench around his fingers and tongue, making him go fucking insane. The feeling was something he became addicted to and never wanted to let go of, prompting him to keep going, eager to get more. He continued using his tongue on you like an animal, almost forgetting that you were sensitive and had just come off a high.
He gripped your thighs firmly, parting them to free his head and hold you down, caressing them with his thumbs when you were in his desired position, knowing youâve just been through something intense.
You tried to gently kick him off with a light tap of your foot on his shoulder, but his movement didnât falter, and he held your leg back down like the other.
âJ-Jungkook, I just came,â you reminded, wondering if he hadnât realised, and this was the reason he didnât relent.
Your back arched as you couldnât help but let out a moan filled with both pleasure and pain as he worked on your sensitive nub. You tried to kick off once again, unsure as to why he was doing this, but yet again received no reaction.
âFucking hell, itâs too muchââ you gasped, already on the brink of another orgasm that you thought would kill you.
He locked his arms around you menacingly as a response, lips firmly wrapping around your clit. âYou can take it,â he said quickly before dipping back down.
âF-fuck, I canât,â you insisted. You could feel your poor pussy swelling at the overstimulation and whined as he continued to lick you like a bunny in heat. Your soft whimper and whines that were supposed to be pleas for rest only encouraged him to keep going.
âJungkook, pleaseââ it all became too much, and you squirmed under his hold, arms flailing around, searching for where his head was, desperate to pull him off from one moment's relief.
He let go of you for just one second, lips smacking as he released you. He looked up at you, eyes dark with need, lips swollen and face glistening, meeting your fucked out half lidded expression.
âWhat happened to you all confident at the bar?â You felt his warm breath on your swollen folds.
âFuck, itâs too much,â you begged. However, your voice mixed with raspiness and need from the number of times he had made you scream his name only made him hungrier.
âIâve been deprived of this for a year, and you think Iâm going to stop here? Come on, baby, I know you can keep going,â he smirked, quickly dipping back down and dragging a slow, wet lick across your cunt that made you scream out.
Oh, how he prayed for times like this. This was better than any wet dream he had ever had about you since your first meeting. Nothing could compare.
He was determined to make you come again on nothing but his tongue, smirking at how much you were dripping, letting him know that you were already halfway there.
He looked up once more to see your head thrown back, eyes shut and squinting, mouth parted slightly in a muffled whine. That was the moment that confirmed this was the best thing in the world. There was no one prettier. There was no one better.
He was very tempted to put his fingers inside you again, wanting to feel your wetness and hear you squelch, wondering if it would be different since you just came, but ultimately decided not to go that far since he was already pushing you past your limits.
A part of him was guilty for treating you like this. He was overstimulating you to the point of tears, but he couldn't stop himself and knew it would all work out in the end.Â
He was sure that if the situations were swapped, you would do the same. And if in some bizarro universe your partner was also you, you would definitely do the same.
âF-fuck, Iâmâ Againââ you cried out; you didnât have to finish your sentence for him to know what you were referring to.
You were so fucked out. You were fully overstimulated and blinded by tears, biting your lower lip as you were desperate for your release to come early, wanting to be rewarded for the rest you so needed.
Sucking your swollen clit and moaning in the process, Jungkook had to bring a hand down to adjust himself. If he kept hearing you like this and his pants continued to rub against him like that, he wouldâve finished before you.
When you finally came, it was brutal. You finished with a loud cry, and your legs uncontrollably twitched under Jungkookâs hold. He didnât plan to continue after this (thank god), but slowed instead of stopping to fuck you through it, helping you ride out your high on his tongue.
When you came down, you were at a loss for breath, barely able to think straight, thinking you were close to death after being pushed so far. Sitting up weakly, you sat up and peeled Jungkook off you with a grab of his hair, and he finally let you go, careful to leave a final kiss on your bud, whimpering as you pulled him away from his new favourite activity.
He sat on the edge of the bed in front of you, expression now sympathetic and filled with worry at the sight of you clearly struggling, tears now dried on your cheeks.
âYou okay?â he asked like he hadnât just fucked your brains out, ridiculous.
âYouâre fucking insane, you know that,â you chuckled lightly, voice still croaky.
He shrugged and smiled up at you, âSo Iâve been told.â
He leaned over to reach you and quickly placed a sloppy kiss on your cheek before doing a dramatic turn that looked like a half-backflip, ending up standing on the floor beside the bed. Without wasting another second, he began unbuckling his belt, working on it as if he had years of experience (ironic).Â
He pulled down his pants quickly, and they hit the floor with a thud, leaving him standing there in his black clavins. You noticed the large wet spot displayed on the front of them, accompanied by a large erect tent that made you bite your lips.
There was no fucking way. But there was.
He excitedly pulled down his boxers and shirt in two quick movements, eager to finally have sex, and your eyes widened. He was fucking big. He was big, and his tip was flashing an angry red, already leaking precum, and you couldnât help but feel intimidated.
He slowly crawled over you like a lion stalking its prey and leaned down to kiss you, but you quickly stopped him, placing your index finger on his lips.
âYouâre not going to put that inside me now, are you?â his eyes widened in, looking between you and his dick multiple times, trying to understand.
âWell⊠yeah?â his voice was filled with confusion and laced with a hint of doubt. Was it his size?
You shook your head from side to side, ânuh-uh, no fucking way.â
He sat back on his heels at the edge of the bed, looking at you with the saddest pair of puppy eyes, pouting and wondering what the issue was.
âWhatâs wrong?â
âJungkook, oh my god, I need a fucking break,â you exclaimed, âyou almost fucking killed me last round, you cannot expect me to take that without rest.âÂ
You gestured down to his large, needy dick for a second time, trying to hide how your mouth watered over it to back your point.
Normally, in a situation like this, he wouldâve smirked and internally celebrated at the fact that a girl was fearful that she couldnât take your cock because you left too much of an impression on her just moments ago. Complete ego booster.
Yet at this time, the circumstance was more of a burden. He wanted you so bad and had been so excited to cum for the first time in ages, only to be turned down because of his own actions.
âWell⊠how long do you need?â He asked hesitantly, trying not to sound pushy. He might as well have been whimpering with that puppy dog look.
Looking at his adorable expression, you couldnât help but smile.
âMe? A while. But you?â his gaze lifted, curious of your next words, âyou donât need a break at all, do you?â
He shook his head enthusiastically, and you smirked. Internally, he hoped that no one above was looking at him right now; he usually wasnât as submissive as this.
You circled him for a moment, so he was standing in front of you, allowing you to kneel before him, looking up with big eyes.
âFuck, Y/n,â he whined before your lips even breathed on his dick. You were gorgeous, and seeing you like this was a whole new experience.
You examined his cock that was erect at eye level, taking in its state which was desperate for release, hard and tall like youâve never seen. Letâs all be grateful that you wiped the drool off your chin before Jungkook noticed.
âI canât believe you got this hard from eating me out,â you teased.
His breath stuttered at the feeling of your warm breath now covering his dick as you inched closer, causing him to shut his eyes in pleasure, unable to look at you, knowing heâd nut right away as a result. âYouâre too beautiful, I canât help it,â he said in a breathy voice.
His words made your heart flutter at the unexpected compliment. Unexpected but surely not underappreciated. It made you feel nice and you wanted nothing more than to make him feel best on the inside, just like he had for you.
Your mouth salivated at the sight of his dick bobbing in front of your face, its length making you wonder if you would even be able to take the thing. But you wouldnât know until your tried. Without warning him when, you brought up a dainty hand and wrapped it around his length, giving it a subtle squeeze.
He sucked in a shallow breath at the feeling, already needing to contain himself. His hips instinctively bucked into your first, and his mouth fell open with a groan that couldâve been mistaken for a whimper.
âOh baby,â he exhaled, not bothering to hide his moans when you placed a wet, delicate kitten lick across his red tip.
âWonder what god would think,â you pumped his dick faster, grip tightening while you sucked at his tip like a lollipop, âsinning like this and all.â
He weakly chuckled, âheâs the least of my problems nowâ ahââ you cut him off by taking him in your mouth, tongue dragging along the underside of his member,
He moaned out loud at the feeling, looking for someone to place his hands in attempts to ground himself and prevent himself from falling over at the intensity. In the end, they found home on the top of your head.
You began to take him deeper, trying to relax your throat as much as you could, taking him deeper and deeper, successfully letting his tip hit the back of your throat with a well-hidden gag.
âFuck!â He yelled out in a loud moan. Your tongue whirled around inside your mouth, teasing him from the inside as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft.
His brows furrowed, grunting while he tried to keep his composure, not wanting to cum yet.
âShit, y-youâre doing so good, baby,â he whimpered, hand curling in your hair.
âMmmph,â you hum while going up and down, eager to make him feel the best, knowing you were capable. You were taking him too deep that your eyes began to water, and breathing became an issue.
He bucked his hips in a small thrust, unable to hold it back anymore. It was the slightest of movement but it caused his tip to push further down your throat, driving him insane.
Saliva began to drip down your chin as you put everything you had into this blow job. You looked up at him through batted eyelashes and wished he were looking at you too, but his eyes were shut in pleasure. He was completely fucked out, clearly struggling to hold himself back.
You slowly dragged yourself off him, watching how the string of spit stayed connected as you released him. It didnât take you long to fall back down, moving faster than before, combining your throat and your hand to help him reach his high.
Each time you swallowed or hummed around him, he let out a pornographic moan that you couldnât be paid to get sick of.
âA-Ah, Y/n, âm close,â he said in a shaky breath, struggling to form words.
You felt his member throbbing in your mouth, already getting a taste of what his cum was like as he started leaking onto your tongue. It was a slightly bitter taste, but one that you enjoyed, leaving a tingle in your mouth, making you want to go further.Â
You knew it was only a matter of time before it happened, so you sped up your pace, desperate for him to finish inside your mouth.
His grip on your hair tightened and loosened repeatedly, unsure of what to do as he came closer. Wondering to see what you looked like, he slowly opened his eyes to see you.
He looked down with half-lidded eyes and mouth agape, only to be met with you already looking up at him. This angle of you on your knees, mouth full of his cock as you stared up at him with innocence, all became too much for him, and he panicked.
âShit!â He yelled as he roughly pulled you off him with the grasp of your hair.
âOuch!â you cried out, clutching your scalp,â What was that for? You were so close.â
He wanted for a moment before answering, taking a moment to look away from you to contain himself. âS-sorry, but I couldnât,â you raised an eyebrow at him, getting a dangerous moment of deja vu from hearing these words.
He paused for a moment, catching his breath, âHave you gotten enough rest yet?â
Oh.
You smirked, âMore than enough.â
You pounced on him before he had a chance to react, pushing him back onto the bed and straddling him to kiss down his neck with sloppy sound effects.
âDo we need a condom?â He asked, trying to focus as you were trailing down him and kissing every inch of his buff body.
You shook your head, âIâm on the pill and clean. You?â
He scoffed, âDonât even joke.â Reaching out and kissing you on the lips, he took it as a chance to flip the two of you over swiftly while supporting your waist so he could be on top, hovering over you.
He sat back on his heels and prepared himself, aligning with your heat, groaning as his tip made contact with your still-wet folds that needed no lubrication. He brushed your thigh to gain your attention, easing you, âYou ready?â
You smiled. It was cute that he was asking after everything you two had just done, âborn.â
Slowly, he leaned forward and entered you with a hiss, bottoming out in a slow thrust. The stretch that accompanied him was one you werenât able to ignore, leading you to whimper as his hips pressed against yours.
âFuck,â you breathe out while biting your lip. Your eyes were closed shut as you tried to get used to the stretch that had you feeling full like never before. You werenât expecting to think this, but had to admit that you were grateful for him pushing you so far before, if you werenât this wet it wouldâve been impossible to take him.
âWhatâs wrong?â he asked, noting your furrowed brows.
âNothing⊠youâre just big.â
He smirked right in front of you, and you groaned in response, âDonât let it get to your head, Jungkook.â
âToo late.â He said smugly, âIâll go slow.â Or at least heâll try.
Grabbing your waist delicately, he began to thrust in and out of you in a slow motion that both of you could handle without issue. You both moaned in unison, harmonising in the most lewd way.
Your hands flew to his biceps, feeling how firm they were as Jungkook let out a low guttural moan, coming down to give you a passionate kiss.
After moments of him just weakly thrusting into you repeatedly, he felt it was time to increase the pace slightly since youâve probably already adjusted. Just to keep things interesting and allâŠ
What could he say? He was a man, after all.
He picked up his speed, a little more than slightly and began grinding into you in a way that had you both on edge. His body pressed against yours, and sounds of quick, shallow grunts coming from him filled the room. He started to fuck you harshly, leaving you gasping for air.
âF-fuck, Jungkook,â you moaned, the increasing pace soon becoming unbearable.
Itâs been so long since Jungkook had ever been inside someone, he almost forgot how sensational the feeling was, making him underestimate himself and feel his cock ready for release not long after entering.
âY-Y/n, Iâm going to cumâ, he whined, continuing to fuck into you, now at record speed, chasing that feeling he so wanted to experience.
He was certain that he didnât want to deprive himself of that feeling he craved, but he also knew that he wanted you to feel it with him. He wanted you to feel what he did at the same time. He wanted to feel you clench on him and drown him in juices.
He adjusted his angle slightly two, three-ish times, searching for that perfect and that wouldâ âfuck! Right there, Jungkook!â
Jackpot.
He looked up from where you were joined, turning to see your face that was thrown back in pleasure as he thrusted into you, hitting that spongey spot that had you yelling his name.
âRight there?â he asked through shaky breaths, âthis spot?â He fucked into you faster, in and out to the point where a loud squelching noise echoed throughout the room, causing you both to moan.
âYes!â You wailed, âIâm gonna, FUCK!â
You came hard in an instant, your body beginning to tremble. You clenched onto his dick tightly as your thighs locked around his hips, riding out your third orgasm of the night. Jungkook felt your pulse around his cock, causing him to stutter at every movement. His eyes squeezed shut, hips jerking up into you, this time not meaning to make you oversensitive.
âH-Holy, fuckâ, Y/n, Iââ Jungkook choked as he finally became overwhelmed. His hips continued to tremble, weakly bucking as he shot white-hot ropes of pleasure into you with loud, whiny moans.
Every time he thought it was over, he found himself still shooting his load into you. Guess this is what happens when youâve been pent up for years. But hey, it felt like fucking heaven.
He weakly squirmed through the aftershocks, too tired to hold himself up and flopped on top of you, sweaty bodies colliding as he closed his eyes, already ready to go to sleep.
âFuck, Y/n, youâre so amazing,â he muttered under his breath.
You didnât mind at all about his sudden position. If anything, it was like a weighted blanket.
He listened to your heartbeat as you panted under him, chest heaving up and down from too much physical activity. You brought a weak hand up to the back of his head and stroked his black hair that had curled from sweat fondly.
He groaned on top of you while you continued to do so, weakly lifting his head while keeping his eyes shut to place a kiss on your collarbone before slumping back down, cheek smushing against your shoulder while throwing his hand around to search for a blanket at the edge of his bed to cover you both.
âTired?â you asked softly, voice just above a whisper since you knew he was trying to rest.
âVery,â he said, voice muffled as his face was squished, âI canât believe Iâve been celibate for a year.â
You chuckled, âMe neither. Guess I just had sex with a virgin.â
He sat up on his palms, hovering over you with a raised brow, âvirgin? You think a virgin could do what I just did?â
âHm, youâre right,â you puckered your lips toward him, and he came down, giving you a quick kiss, âdefinitely not a virgin.â He smiled, and you both got comfortable in his bed, ready to sleep after such an activity.
Being so cosy next to you made him realise there was no place heâd rather be. He was lying in bed with a gorgeous girl by his side, feeling no guilt after having sex like he had previously did at a simple wet dream.
He looked down at you snuggled by his side and smiled warmly, grateful to have met you. Then his eyes flickered to his old camera, the one that he had used in his Uni days. He had brought it out not long after meeting you.Â
It now sits proudly on top of his Bible, rather than under it.
a/n : never written smut in my life. i apologise. Not happy with this story at all but I can't keep promising to post yk.
I feel like sabre norris when she was baking, "this was a fail, i hate myself, catch me knuckles."
GENRE/CW: smut, angst, porn with little plot, non idol au, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, cunnilingus, squirting, marking, cum eating (?), lowkey manipulative ex!jungwon, heâs a menace, mentions of recording moaning audios.
WORD COUNT: 3811 words.
SYNOPSIS: Who knew a single blocked message from your ex could ignite this storm of fury, and this shameless flood of desire? Well, Jungwon knew. He always does.
A/N: hihi loves <3 i think i saw wayy too many jungwon edits gosh, hope this does nawt leave blr <3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <3
There was no reason for your ex to text you on a random Friday evening.Â
The notification appeared brightening the darkness of your bedroom, making you genuinely question his yet another theatrical approach to embed himself back into your lifeâmaking you scoff, mind set on ignoring him. As if youâd ever been good at ignoring him.Â
Jungwon:Â [Audio file: Remix version 2]Â
Your thumb hovered over the screen for a long moment, irritation already blooming beneath your ribs. It was quite an experience entertaining Jungwon, since he found delight in pretending the last few weeks never happened. However, curiosity did get the better of you.Â
You clicked on the link, and Jungwonâs low voice filled in your surroundings. It was another one of those songs where he showed his exact styleâseductive tones, nonetheless that did not explain why he sent you this. To be a critique perhaps? Or merely to start a conversation with you yet again.Â
A loud overlay of sound broke your train of thoughts rather quicklyâyour own voice pouring out the speakers.Â
It was unmistakableâraw, and oh so utterly filthy, the exact moan that had torn from your throat the night he had you bent over his studio desk, buried so deep inside you that you could barely remember your own name. The sound was shamelessly intimate, drenched in desperate pleasure, layered perfectly over the pulsing rhythm. It played again, even clearer this time, rising and falling with the beat in obscene harmony, each breathy whimper and broken cry captured in devastating detail.
Heat exploded across your cheeks and flooded downward in a rush so violent it left you dizzy. Your thighs pressed together instinctively as a treacherous pulse of arousal throbbed between them, betraying you instantly. For one humiliating moment, your body remembered everythingâhis hands gripping your hips, his mouth against your neck, the way he had groaned your name while fucking into you with that relentless rhythm.
Another text came right in, as if he knew the exact second youâd heard it all.Â
Jungwon: like it baby?Â
You scoffed as you typed with rage filling your senses.Â
You: what the actual fuck jungwon?Â
You: delete this RIGHT FUCKING NOW
You: thatâs literally MY voice you assholeÂ
 Yet the messages refused to send, spinning endlessly in their little circles of mockery, the words not delivered flashing like a taunt. You tried calling him a few times, only to be met with the greeting of his voicemail. Each failed attempt stoked the fire in your chest higher until it felt as though you might combust from the sheer audacity of him.
He had done this on purpose.
He had blocked you, just long enough to make sure you couldnât scream at him through the phone, just long enough to force you to drag your ass all the way over here if you wanted to yell at him properly. He knew hearing yourself moan like thatâso raw and filthy and realâwould make your thighs press together, would make heat rush through your body even as you wanted to kill him.
You hated how well he still knew you.
Cursing under your breath, you threw on his old hoodie, the one that still smelled faintly of him, and pulled on some loose shorts before storming out into the cool night air. The whole walk to his apartment your heart was racing, a messy storm of pure rage and unwanted arousal pulsing through you with every step. You could still hear your own moan echoing in your head with his low groans, the way it had synced so perfectly with his beat, and it made your cheeks burn hotter, made your core clench in traitorous memory.
By the time you reached his door, you were breathing hard, fists clenched at your sides. You still had the key, of course you did, and you let yourself in without hesitation, the familiar low hum of his studio equipment greeted yiu.Â
The purple and red LEDs cast a soft, sinful glow down the hallway, leading you straight to him.
Jungwon was lounging back in his big studio chair like he had all the time in the world, legs spread lazily, wearing nothing but a loose black tank top and those gray sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips. His hair was messy, lips curved in that knowing, arrogant little smirk the second he saw you standing there, flushed and furious in his doorway.
He looked far too relaxed, far too fucking hot.
And the tension in the air thickened instantly, but you didnât bother wasting a second.
âWhat the actual fuck, Jungwon?â You snapped, voice sharp and shaking with anger, âyou sent me that and blocked me so I couldnât even yell at you? Delete it right now, you asshole. Iâm not fucking playing with you.â
He slowly leaned forward in the chair, eyes dragging over your body in that slow, hungry way that always made your knees feel weak, even when you were this pissed. The smirk deepened as he tilted his head.
âBlocked you? Maybe for a minute,â he murmured, voice low and dripping with satisfaction, âbut we both know you wouldâve come anyway once you heard how pretty you sound moaning for me.â His gaze lingered on your thighs for a second too long before coming back up to your eyes, âso tell me, babyâdid it make you wet?â
You didnât reply, just raised your eyebrows at his incredulous question, making him chuckle before clicking his tongue.Â
âI havenât posted it yet,â he added calmly, almost too casually, watching your reaction like it entertained him.
âYet?â Your voice rose, disbelief and fury mixing together as you stared at him. âWhat the fuck do you mean yet? Youâre actually planning to post this? Are you out of your fucking mind?â
Jungwonâs smirk deepened as he took another step closer, invading your space. His eyes darkened, tracing the way your chest rose and fell with barely contained anger.
âThose moans sound too romantic, baby,â he murmured, voice laced with something filthy, âtoo soft, too sweetâlike we were making love. All breathy and desperate in that pretty way you get when youâre falling for me all over again.â He tilted his head, lips curving with wicked amusement as he leaned in even closer, his breath ghosting over your ear, âbut this track needs something hm, rather rough. I need the kind of moans you make when Iâm hate-fucking youâwhen youâre mad at me but still creaming all over my cock, cursing my name while you cum so hard you canât even think straight.â
The words hit you like a spark to gasoline, sending a rush of unwanted heat straight between your thighs. Your core clenched hard at the memory, at the image he painted so vividly, and you hated how your body betrayed you so easily, how the tension in the room thickened until it felt almost suffocating with everything unsaid and unfinished between you.
âYouâre disgusting,â you whispered, but your voice came out breathier than you wanted, trembling with a mix of rage and arousal that made your cheeks burn hotter.
Jungwonâs hand came up to rest on the mixing desk beside your hip, caging you in without fully touching you, his tall frame looming over yours as those dark eyes bored into you with unmistakable hunger. The purple and red LEDs cast sinful shadows across his sharp jawline and collarbones, making him look even more dangerously tempting.
âAm I?â He asked softly, almost teasing, his gaze dropping to your lips for a long second before sliding back up, âbecause youâre standing here in my hoodie, thighs pressed together, breathing like youâre already wet just thinking about it. Tell me Iâm wrong, câmon, tell me that hearing yourself moan on my track didnât make you remember exactly how good it feels when I fuck the attitude right out of you.â
The air was thick with sexual tension, the kind that always pulled you back to him no matter how furious you were. He was so close now that you could feel the warmth radiating from his chest, could smell that familiar scent that still made your stomach twist with need. His lips hovered just inches from yours, daring you, challenging you, waiting for you to either slap him or pull him in.
âDelete it, Jungwon,â you breathed, barely above a whisper, your eyes flicking between his eyes and his mouth despite yourself.
He smiled, voice dropping even lower.
âOrâI could fuck you right here on this desk until you give me the right moans to replace them. Hate me all you want, baby. Just make sure youâre loud.â
You let out a frustrated huff, glaring up at him, âyouâre impossible,â you muttered, voice thick with defiance, âyou really think Iâm just going to let you have your way with me?â
Jungwonâs eyes stayed soft on you, that quiet affection never quite leaving them no matter how smug his smile was. His hand slid higher between your legs, fingers beginning to caress your folds through your shorts with slow, teasing strokes, granting you every chance to stop him.
âTurn the mic on for me,â he said, voice low and steady, âIf weâre doing this, I want the new ones recorded properly.â
You narrowed your eyes at him, cheeks burning with a mix of irritation and unwanted desire, âyouâre really asking me to help you record this? After everything?â
He leaned in, lips brushing your temple as his fingers continued their careful ministrations, âIâm not asking you to do anything you donât want. But if youâre stayingâturn it on, baby, the choice is yours, yâknow?âÂ
You hesitated only a moment before reaching over and clicking the record button yourself. The red light blinked on, unveiling the quiet promise of what was about to happen, and Jungwonâs smile turned warmer, though his gaze held a sharper, hungrier glint.
âGood girl,â he whispered, pleased. He pushed your shorts and panties to the side, sliding two fingers inside you slowly at first, then curled them deeper, exhibiting a confidence that made your breath hitch. The stellar sensation of his fingers stretching you open sent a rush of heat through your body as he began to pump them with more purpose.
âThere we go,â he murmured, voice rougher now, âkeep talking if it helps. Tell me how much you hate me.â
You gasped, your hips shifting against his hand, âI do hate you hate that you always know exactly how to get to me,â you said, trying to sound sharp, but your voice was already growing breathier with every firm stroke.
Jungwon hummed approvingly, pumping his fingers deeper, the wet sounds of his ministrations filling the studio and encasing the two of you in this debauched little world of your own, âthatâs it, let it out. You can scrutinize me all you want, baby, but your sentiments are written all over your faceâyouâre mad, but youâre still letting me touch you like this.â
You bit your lip, fighting the moan that wanted to escape as he added a third finger, stretching you open so perfectly while the red light on the mic stayed steady, capturing every shaky breath. âYouâre soâso sure of yourself,â you managed, rocking back against his hand despite your words, âacting like Iâm just going to melt the second you touch me.â
âYou are melting though,â he said, voice low and hot against your ear, kissing along your jaw with a touch more intensity, âand itâs okay. I like you like thisâall fired up and still dripping for me. Your body shows exactly what it needs, even if your mouth keeps lying.â
The angsty pull between anger and desire made everything feel heavier, hotter. You hated how much you wanted him right now, how the mixture of frustration and need made every touch feel electric.
âJungwonââ you whined, voice laced with need of feeling more of him.Â
He kissed you properly this time, deeper, never stopping the firm movement of his hand.
âKeep going, baby,â he murmured against your lips, voice rough with restrained want, âgive the mic something better than those soft ones from before. I want to hear how you sound when youâre mad at me but still want me this much.â
Jungwon pulled his fingers out slowly, leaving you clenching around nothing. He gripped your waist with both hands and lifted you onto the mixing desk in one smooth motion, monitors glowing behind you.Â
âThen shut up and do something about it,â you groaned.Â
âYeah? Iâll do something about it alright,â he said, voice low as he shoved your shorts and panties down your legs.
The movement caused some button to be pushed, resulting in the same track playing as background music now, the reverberating sound mixing with your current moans.Â
You wrapped your legs around his hips anyway, pulling him closer, âdelete it first, you smug prick.â
He freed his cock and rubbed the thick head against your soaked entrance, teasing, ânot until you give me new ones.â Then he pushed in deep in one hard thrust, stretching you open until he bottomed out.
A broken moan tore from your throat, loud and raw, syncing perfectly with the track, âfuck! Jungwonââ
He groaned against your neck, hips snapping forward, âthatâs it. Louder, baby.â His teeth sank into the side of your throat, sucking hard enough to leave a dark mark as he started fucking you in deep, punishing strokes that made the desk creak.
You clawed at his shoulders, nails digging through his tank top, ânot your baby,â you panted, even as your pussy clenched around him tighter, âughhâhate you.â
Jungwon smirked against your skin and bit down again, lower this time, right above your clavicle, âgood. Hate me while youâre creaming all over my cock.â He grabbed your ass with both hands, squeezing hard as he drove into you faster, the wet slap of skin echoing over the bass.
You yanked his hair, forcing his head back so you could glare at him, âyouâre insane,â you hissed, but your voice cracked into a moan when he ground deep and stayed there, rolling his hips.
He laughed, eyes locked on yours, âand youâre still taking every inch like you were made for me.â His mouth crashed into yours, so perfectly messy, teeth clicking as he swallowed your next moan. One hand slid up under your hoodie, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you arch.
You rocked against him harder, breathless. âWe broke up, Jungwon, we canât be doing thisâ
âYeah?â He thrust deeper, voice low and rough against your ear. âTell me that again while your pussy is squeezing me like it never wanted me to leave.â He bit down on the side of your neck, sucking a dark bruise into your skin as his hips snapped faster.
Your nails dug into his shoulders through the tank top, âyouâre impossible. Even after I walked away, you stillââ
He cut you off with another sharp thrust, making you cry out, âstill what? Still make you wet the second you hear your own moans on my track? Still the only one who can fuck you like this?â
You were almost there, thighs shaking, the coil in your stomach pulling tight when he suddenly pulled out completely, leaving you empty and aching.
âJungwonââ you whined, trying to yank him back by his shirt.
He dropped to his knees between your spread legs instead, hooking your thighs over his shoulders. âNot yet,â he murmured, breath hot against your soaked pussy, âI want to taste how mad you still get for me.â
His tongue dragged slow and flat over your clit, then sucked it hard into his mouth. You cried out, hips jerking, âfuckâ youâre evil for this.â
He groaned against you, pushing two fingers back inside and curling them deep, âI still fuck my hand to you every night, you know that?â He confessed between long, filthy licks, voice rough, âeven after you left, I sit right here in this chair, play that track, and stroke myself thinking about you bent over this desk, cursing my name but still dripping down my cock.â
Your head fell back against the monitors, a broken moan escaping, âyouâre terribleâdonât stopââ
He slowed his tongue deliberately, licking you soft and teasing, dragging you right to the edge before backing off again, âsay it,â he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh, âsay you still think about me too. Say you still need this even though weâre supposed to be over.â
You tugged his hair, frustrated and desperate, âI still need youâokay? I still need you, now stop teasing and make me cum already.â
Jungwon stood up, wiped his glistening mouth with the back of his hand, and scooped you off the desk, carrying you across the studio and dropping you onto the big couch, crawling over you in the same breath. He pushed back inside in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
âFuckâyes,â you moaned, legs wrapping around him instantly.
He fucked you harder on the couch, hips snapping with deep, punishing strokes, âthatâs it,â he groaned, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your thigh open wide, âjust ike that. Show me how much you still want your ex even when youâre pissed at him.â
You were right there again, clenching around him tight, the pressure coiling so sharp and hot you could barely breathe.
âJungwon! Fuck, Iâm gonnaââ your voice broke off into a desperate whine as he slammed into you harder, the couch creaking under every brutal thrust, showing exactly how much heâd been thinking of this, of you.Â
âYeah?â He panted, forehead pressed to yours, eyes locked on you, âgonna cum for me, hm? Even after you swore you were done with me?â
You nodded frantically, nails raking down his back, âshut upâjust donât stop, please.â
He groaned, hips snapping faster, âthatâs it, baby, let me feel you. Show me how hard you still fall apart for me.â
Your whole body seized as the orgasm crashed through you, a broken cry tearing from your throat while you clenched around him, thighs shaking, and you squirted hard, soaking his cock and dripping down onto the couch beneath you.
âFuckâthatâs my girl,â Jungwon panted, voice wrecked as he felt you gush around him. He fucked you through it for a few more deep strokes, drawing out every last pulse, before he finally pulled out with a low, strained grunt.
He stroked himself fast and hard right above you, thick ropes of cum spilling hot across your thighs and stomach, painting your skin in messy streaks. You stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving, body still twitching with aftershocks.Â
Jungwon lowered himself between your legs and dragged his tongue slowly over your thighs, licking up every drop of his release with soft, deliberate strokes, eyes never leaving your face.
You let out a shaky breath, voice soft and fond despite everything, âI hate you, Jungwon.â
Jungwon pressed his cheek against your sticky thigh, nuzzling there like he belonged, a small, satisfied smile curving his lips.
âBut I love you,â he whispered, the mic catching his faint confession, âI was never going to post it, yâknow?â
âThen whyââ
âI missed you, thatâs why,â he replied, grabbing your hand to place it on top of his head, making you caress his soft hair, the dimpled smile on his face grew at the familiarity of the situation, making your heart race exactly how he used to before you broke up.Â
âYouâre ridiculousâcouldâve just texted like a normal person.â
He chuckled softly, turning his head to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, âwhereâs the fun in that?â His tongue traced a lazy line higher, licking the mess heâd left on your skin, âbesides, you came running anyway.â
You let out a quiet laugh that turned into a soft gasp when his mouth moved lower, licking gently over your still-sensitive folds, âJungwonâweâre supposed to be done with each other.â
âAre we?â He murmured, voice affectionate as he spread you open with his thumbs and dragged his tongue slowly from your entrance to your clit, âbecause this pussy says otherwise, baby.â
You shivered, fingers tightening in his hair as he started eating you out properly. His tongue circled your clit with soft, deliberate strokes, then dipped down to lap at your entrance like he had all the time in the world.
âFeels too good,â you whispered, clenching around nothing, âyouâre not playing fair.â
He hummed against you, the vibration making your toes curl, âIâm not trying to play fair, Iâm trying to remind you why we were never actually over.â He sucked lightly on your clit, then soothed it with slow, flat licks,âtell me you didnât miss this tooâtell me you didnât think about me when you were alone at night.â
You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moan building in your throat, âIâmaybe I did, a little.â
âA little?â He smiled against your pussy and pushed two fingers inside you again, curling them gently while his tongue kept working your clit in lazy, perfect circles, âcâmon be honest, baby. Did you touch yourself thinking about me?â
Your back arched slightly, breath coming faster, âyesâokay, yes! Happy now?â
âVery,â he murmured as he sped up just a little, sucking on your clit while his fingers stroked that spot inside you with devastating care, âbecause I think about you every single day, every night. Even when I know I shouldnât.â
âJungwon,â Your voice cracked, the pleasure building again, slower this time but just as intense, âIâm close again, donât stopââ
âI wonât,â he promised softly, never breaking rhythm, âgo on, my love. Let me feel it, yeah? Let me taste how much you still need me.â
Your fingers tightened in his hair, thighs starting to tremble around his head as the orgasm crept up on you, sweet and overwhelming, âyouâre going to be the death of me.â
He chuckled against your soaked folds, âgood, because Iâm nowhere near done loving you.â
You cried out his name, back bowing off the couch as you came on his tongue and fingers, thighs shaking, a fresh rush of wetness coating his mouth. He groaned happily and kept licking you through it, gentle and slow, drawing out every last pulse until you were panting and boneless beneath him.
Jungwon finally lifted his head, lips shiny and a soft, dimpled smile on his face as he rested his cheek on your thigh again, eyes warm and full of everything heâd never stopped feeling for you.
You stared down at him, heart still racing, the remix playing faintly in the background like a distant memory.
And at that moment, you knew you were far from done with him.Â
> warnings â rom-com, humor, fluff and smut, reader is in a constant state of stress, descriptions of a small panic attack, heeseung is referred to as woody (it makes sense i swear), ariana grande is mentioned a handful of times, slight angst (for the plot yk), lots of refrences to marriage and getting married (this one might be obvious) // p in v, oral f! receiving, soft sex, missionary, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink
> notes â my first published fic on this blog⊠gulp. kinda nervous. but please enjoy me spreading the blonde heeseung agenda. also i think you can tell that i like ariana grande after you read this.. still. i really hope you guys enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it. reblogs are so so appreciated and i love to hear from you guys!
What do you do when your ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend invite you to their wedding?
You ignore it. You donât go, because, really, why would you? You donât owe them some false sense of forgiveness simply because they assume enough time has passed for there to be no hard feelings. Any rational person knows that.
ButâŠyou are a people pleaser to the highest degree. Itâs a trait that your mom used to say made you so good while your dad mumbled how it would get you in trouble one day. Seems one of them was right.
So now youâre sitting at the farthest corner table of the massive venue, a glass of wine swirling in your hand as the best-man gives his speech. He says something about the obstacles the couple overcame, how they managed to make something beautiful out of a bad situation.
The bad situation, of course, being you.
You arenât sure how someone is able to make cheating on their girlfriend of six years with her childhood best friend seem like some kind of detour to getting a happy ending, but they do. And now people are cooing at it like their story is something out of a shitty rom-com on the Hallmark channel. You donât miss the way people glance back at you either, like theyâre waiting for you to either scream or cry. Maybe both. You just shoot them tight smiles, fingers tightening around your glass like itâll ground you. (Newsflash, it doesn't.)
The night continues like that. You, sitting in the back corner wondering why you even came while people shoot you sympathetic looks. Itâs kind of pathetic honestly. You should probably leave.
You can see Luke up there with Mandy, her shoulders shaking when she laughs at something he says. He looks at her differently than how he looked at you. He looks at her like sheâs the gravity holding him onto earthâlike heâd move the moon and stars if she simply asked. Itâs sickening andâŠa little hurtful. Not that youâd ever admit that out loud.
Sometimes you wonder how you didnât see it. Looking back, it was obvious. All the lingering looks. The way Luke always made an excuse as to why he couldnât come over when Mandy was in town. They barely even tried to hide it and you still hadnât seen it.
You sigh, sinking further into your chair. You wish this wine was stronger. You wish you hadnât come. You wishâ
âIf you scoot down any more youâre going to fall off your chair.â
You blink, the sudden voice catching you off guard. You werenât aware anyone was even behind you considering the majority of the attendees were either interacting with family-friends or dancing in the center of the room. The thought of a stranger seeing you like this should make you straighten up. It should make you mumble out a soft apology and then try not to die from mortification.
But, instead, all you can manage is a soft, âTrue.â
You donât try to sit up. You donât turn to look at him. You just stay frozen, your eyebrows knitted and lips twisted in a painful grimace, watching as Luke feeds Mandy a piece of cake. Strawberry, of course. Your mutual favorite, The one youâd bonded with him over when youâd first met.
The stranger doesnât say anything else. Just quietly slips into the open seat next to you. The one covered in crumbs left by one of Lukeâs younger cousins. Youâd met the kid back when you and Luke were still together. He was one of those obnoxious kids always covered in a mysterious sticky substance with constant red rimmed lips. You couldnât stand him back then, and you still canât now. So it seems only fitting that youâd end up in the seat next to him.
Silence stretches again, not uncomfortable, but definitely not comfortable either. Just there. Just kind of awkward. Like youâre two middle schoolers at a school dance together waiting to see who makes the first move.
âSo,â The stranger starts again, his voice casual and low, like youâre two best friends catching up. âWhich one is it?â
Your gaze flicks over to him lazily, eyes catching on the side of his face. His hair falls over his eyes effortlessly, blonde strands framing him in that casually messy kind of way only a few men can pull off. Heâs not looking at you, which your partially grateful for, and instead his eyes are trained where yours once were. On them.
But he isnât looking at them like theyâre the cutest thing heâd ever seen like everyone else is. In fact, you think he might be glaring at them. It nearly tugs a smile at your lips. At least you arenât the only one here with a grudge.
You cross your arms over your chest, ignoring the way your lower spine has begun to slightly ache from your position. âBoth,â You mumble, pulling your eyes away from him again. âYou?â
He takes a moment to respond, like heâs deciding if he wants to answer. You think itâs only fair he does considering you did, but maybe he was trying to continue this mysterious cool guy act he had going on. You donât really care either way.
He huffs out a breath, lips quirking slightly at the corners. âNeither.â
That catches your attention, because he says it like itâs a joke. Like he knows something you donât. You straighten up finally, trying to pretend itâs because you wanted to and not because your back was starting to ache something mean.
He looks at you then, brown eyes glowing even under the dim lights. He looksâŠdangerous, as cringe inducing as that is. Like heâs playing a prank and youâre a part of it. Whether itâs as an accomplice or the punchline, you arenât sure. You donât think he is, either.
You squint your eyes at him, crossing your legs in an attempt to look serious. âWhatâd you say your name was again?â
He shrugs, fixing his tie like heâs attempting to be casual, but you know itâs because itâs hanging loosely across his neck in a way that screams iâm a grown man who canât tie a tie. âWhat do you want it to be?â
You blink, your back hitting the seat when you lean back. Itâs not like youâve never had any weird interactions with people before. You were an awkward kid in high school and college, so bad interactions were kind of your thing. But this is different. This isnât an uncomfortable game of spin-the-bottle that ends with your lip bleeding and a mutual agreement to avoid each other for the rest of your lives, this is something you arenât sure how to navigate. You really arenât even sure how you would go about attempting to.
You hum, blinking lazily. âI want you to just tell me,â You mumble, heeled foot tapping against the floor. âBut I also know professional wedding crashers donât usually share that information.â
He lets out a breathy laugh, his hand covering his eyes for a moment before falling back at his side. He smiles at you, lips revealing his teeth in a way that makes your stomach turn, even though it really shouldnât. âYouâre observant.â He mumbles, like he was expecting you to catch him. Like he wanted you to.
âYeah, well,â you shrug, taking another sip of your wine, âI know everyone here except for you.â
âWhat if Iâm the brides super extended twice removed uncle?â
You donât even spare him a glance. âYouâre not.â
A beat passes, like heâs trying to decide where he wants to take the conversation. You think he wants to ask you why youâre so miserable back here, what youâd meant when you said both earlier. But he doesnât. Instead he just stands and offers a hand to you without a word.
You look up at him, tie hanging at an angle against his neck despite his attempt at fixing it earlier, lips curved into a smooth smirk like he knows what youâll do next, brown eyes sparkling with something you canât quite place.
You shouldn't take his hand. You should leave and pretend none of this ever happened and go back to living your life.
But instead, for reasons youâll claim as a strange lapse in judgment later on, your hand finds his. You let him pull you onto your feet, donât protest when he maneuvers so heâs holding your waist. Donât make a noise when he saunters onto the dance floor with you, making sure youâre right in Luke and Mandyâs view.
âWhatâre you doing?â You ask, albeit a little breathless. The stranger just hums, his hands finding your waist again, more firm this timeâconfident. You can see Luke watching you from the corner of your eye, his nose scrunched in that way it always does when something confuses him. Mandyâs too busy talking to one of your old mutual friends, one of the many who had chosen her in the breakup and not you.
The sight of it makes you frown slightly. You focus back on the blonde man in front of you again, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach that never seems to leave. His lips are twisted upwards, staring at you like he can see right through you. Like maybe this was the entire reason heâd come tonight.
âDo you trust me?â He asks, loud enough that only you can hear it. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your nose, to your lips, and then up again. Like heâs studying your reactions.
You frown, letting your arms wrap around his neck. âAbsolutley not.â
He hums, low and deep, leaning into you in a way that has your head spinning. âGood.â
And then his lips are on yours, kissing you slow and deep. Itâs the kind of kiss that screams desperation, one that should mean nothingâbut means everything. And itâs strange, because you should pull away. Should slap him for doing this before he even tells you his name. But you donât do any of that. Instead, you melt into it and kiss him back just as hungrily.
His lips are slightly chapped from the cold weather, but your own lipgloss does good to mask it. One of his hands trails from your waist to your cheek, tilting your face and forcing you impossibly closer. His tongue slips out for a brief moment, smoothing against your lip, and you swear you die right there.
Itâs messy and too much but somehow not enough. He kisses you like a man-starved, and it nearly makes your head spin.
You arenât sure who pulls away first, all you know is that when you do your chest is heaving and Luke and Mandy are speedwalking away towards something you canât see.
You blink after a moment, the post-kiss fog clearing in your brain and reminding you that you do not know this man.
And yet he just kissed you like heâd been wanting to do it for years.
You want to be angry, you want to scream and ask him what the fuck is wrong with him. But instead, you laugh. A real, chest laugh that comes from somewhere deep in your stomach. Heâs smiling too, the tips of his ears a fiery red. The first sign that heâs at least somewhat capable of embarrassment and not completely immune to every human emotion aside from spontaneity.
âYouâre insane.â It comes out teasing, like something youâd say in passing to a friend, but you mean it.
He just shrugs, the hand still attached to your waist tightening just slightly. You can feel his fingers digging into your skin, but it isnât painful. Just a reminder that he was there. That heâd just kissed you breathless after meeting you barely ten minutes ago.
âItâs charming, though, right?â He asks, eyes flickering behind you when some kid, youâre assuming Lukeâs sticky cousin, starts crying.
You snort, rolling your eyes. âCharmings one word for it.â
âCome on,â He insists, âIf I hadnât shown up you wouldâve still been sinking to the floor in the corner like some kind of sad clay statue.â
You raise a brow, âOkay, weird comparison.â You mumble, doing your best to ignore the smile threatening to break through again. âButâŠyou still havenât told me your name.â
He nods, looking at you like itâs the most obvious thing in the world. Like the fact he was keeping his identity a secret from you was something he always did. It was weird, but, also kind of exciting?
God, youâve got serious issues.
âWould it make you feel better if I just came up with one?â
You raise a brow, âIs it your real one?â
âThatâs for me to know and you to find out.â
Your eyes narrow suspiciously, tongue pushing against your cheek in frustration. You donât understand why heâs being so stingy about it. What kind of person sees kissing as less intimate then telling you his name? âIf I tell you my name will you tell me yours?â You ask.
He lets out a breathy laugh, that cheeky smile heâs been sporting since you kissed never wavering. âNo promises.â
You weigh your options in your mind. On one hand, you tell him your name and he keeps up this weird game of his and he gets the upper hand. On the other, you donât tell him your name and you gain nothing and spend the rest of the night wondering what wouldâve happened if you just told him. Plus, what if heâs feeling extra nice and decides to just tell you?
Either way, you were getting pretty sick of referring to him as the sexy stranger.
âY/N,â You murmur, tone loud enough so he can hear over the sickeningly romantic music blasting through the venue speakers. Some sixties song youâd never heard before. âMy name.â
He pauses, like the fact that youâd actually told him shocks him, and for the first time that smile of his falters. For some reason, it feels like a mini victory. But, he picks himself back up just as quickly, and suddenly it feels like you imagined all of it.
âY/N,â he mumbles like heâs testing the name on his tongue. âSuits you.â
You shift on your feet, handle clasping together behind his neck. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â You ask, searching his face like youâll find something in it. An answer, maybe. An explanation as to who he was when he wasnât doing whatever the hell this was.
âIt means itâs pretty,â He says easily, eyes never leaving yours, âAnd it suits you.â
You swallow, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. He says it so easily, like itâs an undeniable fact that he doesnât even need to think twice about. Like saying the sky is blue. You hate that it makes your cheeks flush and butterflies light up in your stomach.
You let out a breath, trying to calm your buzzing nerves. âWhatever,â You mumble, âI told you mine. Your turn.â
He stares at you silently, like heâs studying you. Trying to piece together what the best course of action would be. To you, itâs obvious. Tell you his name, and thenâŠyeah. Youâd figure it out from there. But the only way things could progress was if you knew the most basic piece of information about him.
He just smiles, hands sliding up your arms looped around his neck and grabbing your wrists gently. He pulls them down, letting one fall down to your side and intertwining his own with the other.
âHow would you feel about eating processed food thatâll probably kill us before we turn forty?â He asks, completely avoiding the topic. You part your lips to argue with him on it, ask him why you should go with him when he wonât even tell you his name, but nothing comes out. When he tugs you gently behind him, you donât pull away. You let him lead you out of the building and into the empty parking lot.
The suns just barely began to set, casting the sky in different shades of pink and yellow. The moon fades slightly into the sky, not fully showing, but making its presence known. The airâs got a sharp chill to it, one that makes goosebumps rise across your skin, but isnât completely unbearable.
âWhere are we going?â You ask, heels clicking frantically against the pavement as he drags you away from your past. Away from worlds of hurt and towards something new. Something that feels too real for what it is.
You should be scared. You donât really knowâhim, and yet youâre letting him lead you away from civilization. Even if that civilization is the families of the worst people you know.
He glances back at you, shrugging his shoulders casually. âYouâre hungry, right?â
âI guessââ
He hums, finally stopping in front of a sleek black car. âThen letâs go eat.â
You blink, watching as he opens the passenger door for you and waits for you to step in.
Your lips twist uncomfortably, gaze switching between the suspiciously nice car and him. âThis is yours?â You ask. You donât mean for it to come out so accusatory, but what else were you supposed to think? The man crashes weddings for fun. Not exactly rich-and-has-his-life-together behavior.
He tilts his head slightly, leaning against the door. âWhat? I donât look I could own a car like this?â He asks playfully. You know heâs teasing you, but it still makes your skin bristle.
âI didnât mean it like that,â You say sharply, glaring at him through your lashes.
He just chuckles, gesturing towards the open door once again. âCome on,â He mumbles, eyes glinting playfully. âOr donât. I canât make you do anything.â
Part of you knows the sensible thing to do would be to go back into that building and pretend the last half an hour never happened. Go back to watching Luke and fucking Mandy be happy and in love as if they hadnât stomped all over you to get there.
You get into the car without any more hesitance.
He smirks, shutting the door behind you and walking around the front to get to the driver's seat.
You let yourself look around as he does. A yellow tree air freshener hangs off of the rearview mirrorâtypical of a man reallyâand thereâs a small collection of CDâs next to your feet.
You pick them up mindlessly when he finally slides in next to you, flipping through them like they might have his name engraved into them. (They donât.)
Thereâs some stuff you kind of expected, like Queen and Metallica. Some Indie 2000âs band that people only listened to so they could feel different. But only one catches your eye.
âAriana Grande? Really?â You snort, holding up the disc. Ariana Grandeâs âMy Everythingâ sits between your fingers, her iconic stool photo shining back at you. You remember youâd tried to recreate it in middle school and sprained your ankle. Safe to say, lessons were learned that day.
He doesnât even flinch, just plucks it out of your hands and pushes it into the carâs built in cd player. You think itâs kind of cute that he still uses it despite the fact his car is new enough to have an apple carplay screen.
âLove Me Harder is one of the best songs ever made,â He says, tongue swiping over his lips as he shoots you a look from the corner of his eye. You donât argue, because, yeah, it is. Youâre just a little shocked that he would think so.
He puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the parking space with ease, glancing behind him with a practiced confidence. You watch him do it, studying him without shame.
Heâs different from anyone youâve ever met. Mysterious, really, even if it makes you want to roll your eyes until thy get stuck in the back of your head. But thereâs something else to him, something that feels nearly familiar. You wrack your brain to try to remember, but nothing comes up.
His eyes catch yours, that same, cunning grin curling into his lips. The one that made your stomach turn and nerves fry when heâd first sat down with you at the beginning of the night. The same one heâd given you when heâd kissed you breathless like you were two lovers and not two strangers.
And itâs then that you realize that you are irrevocably and extremely royally screwed.
When youâd gotten up this morning you expected the night to end the way they usually do nowadays. You, lying in your bed, doomscrolling until questionable hours of the night, hating yourself for it but still continuing to do so. Although this time you imagined thereâd probably be some tears involved, because you are nothing if not overly sensitive. And they wouldn't be pretty tears either, no, they'd be ugly, fat boulders rolling down your cheeks like they were claiming a permanent space over your heart.
But that doesn't happen. Instead, youâre sitting on a suspiciously damp curb outside of some run-down Taco Bell infested with teenagers, eating a soft taco while what youâre really hoping is just mud seeps into your dress.
Blondie, what youâve chosen to call him until you can come up with something better, sits beside you. His legs are stretched out into the street, face illuminated by the glowing neon Open sign as he takes a sip of his Baja Blast.Â
He's pretty in a way that should be illegal. Features fitting together like a finished puzzle, the kind of boy with a smile women pray their children have.Â
The drive here hadn't been uncomfortable, mostly because he seemed to be good at making small talk into some kind of casual conversation. Where you would've been awkward, he seems smooth. It's kind of impressive, but you also envy the talent.
He glances at you, placing his cup beside him and leaning back on his hands. âSo, what happened?â
You blink. You know heâs asking about Luke and Mandyâabout why you were there if you clearly had some kind of bitter history with them. But the truth isâŠyou arenât even sure yourself. Maybe deep down you were just some kind of masochist who enjoyed the ache seeing them brought to your heart. Or maybe you just wanted to feel like you finally had the upper hand when you all know you donât. Either way, every outcome ended with you losing.
You lean your elbows onto your knees, hair falling over your shoulder as you turn your face towards him. âWhat do you mean?â
He doesnât respond. Just stares at you knowingly, head tilting until his ear nearly brushes his shoulder. He raises his eyebrows at you, as if to say, Really? Playing dumb?Â
You hate that you break so easily.
You sigh, curling further into yourself, like thatâll make the story any less painful. Your lips tighten together, eyes falling to the floor. You donât even know where to start. Do you tell him about meeting Mandy in middle school? How the two of you became an extension of eachother, two souls intertwined into one?
Or do you tell him about how you met Luke your freshman year of college? How he was the first boy to really sweep you off your feet and show you what it felt like to really love someone?
Or do you start at that day last year when you walked in on them going at it like rabbits in your bed?
All options were equally as painful.
You grip the fabric of your dress uncomfortably, like maybe it'll ground you. âMandy was my best friend,â You start, eyes glazing over just like they always do when you say this story aloud. âLuke was my boyfriend. One day I came home andâŠyeah. And now theyâre getting married and I'mâŠstill alone.â You mean to say it like a joke, like your loneliness doesn't actually bother you, but your voice cracks and sounds way too small to be convincing.
Blondie just listens. Doesnât push, doesnât ask any questions. Just a stable presence listening to you without suffocating you.
Your hands shake slightly, eyes beginning to blur with unshed tears that you force back. Your throat gets that awful aching feeling it always does when youâre about to cry. You suck in a sharp breath in an attempt to get your feelings in check, and if Blondie notices, he doesnât say anything about it.
Instead, his gaze flicks up to the sky. There arenât many stars out, mostly because you're still relatively close to the city and normally Taco Bellâs don't have the northern lights above them, but he still studies it like itâs the most interesting thing in the world.
The silence stretches languidly, a tension in the air that you canât help but feel like you caused. You probably made him uncomfortable, and he was deciding the best way to tell you heâs leaving you here and to find your own way home. Which is fine, but you should probably go ahead and call Sunoo and ask him to pick you up.
Youâre reaching for your phone when he responds. His tone is the softest youâd heard it all night, hair blowing slightly across his forehead when the breeze picks up. âYouâre here with me, right?â He murmurs, eyes anywhere but you.
You watch the side of his face, trying to decide what kind of point heâs hoping to make. Yeah, youâre here with him, but you didnât mean alone in such a direct way. More in a I-lost-my-bestfriend-and-boyfriend-and-canât-get-over-it kind of way. Still, you go along with him. âI guess,â You hum, sniffling softly. The tears forming in your eyes have finally begun to subside.
He smiles softly, letting his gaze meet yours. His eyes are warm, staring into your own like melted pools of honey. âThen youâre not alone.â He murmurs, knocking your shoulder with his. He's got this proud look in his eyes--like he just gave some big speech on accepting your life and whatnot.
You laugh, shaking your head. You sit up straighter, letting your hands replace your elbows on your knees. âIs that your way of comforting me?â You ask.
He just shrugs, gesturing to you softly. âYouâre not crying anymore, are you?â
Your lips part, because, no, you arenât crying anymore. In fact, the tight feeling in your chest has been replaced by something lighter. Something more warm and less all-consuming.
You lean back on your hands, letting your gaze fall up to the sky. âNo,â You mumble, âI guess Iâm not.â
The air shifts after that, tension slipping into something softer. Something comfortable. Something that nearly makes you forget you just met him and havenât known him for years.Â
You crumble your wrapper (it'd been sitting discarded next to you and nearly flew away multiple times), into a ball and stuff it into the paper bag. With it out of the way, you allow yourself to scoot closer to him. Not close enough that youâre touching, but close enough that you can feel the heat emitting from his body. Can feel his gaze on you as you shift, eyes filled with curiosity and something else you canât quite name.
âHowâs it fair that I keep telling you about myself while you get to keep all your secrets?â You ask, eyebrows knit together. You arenât angry about it, not anymore at least. Now itâs just confusing. Like heâs hiding things from you for a reason and not just because he managed to sneak into a wedding.Â
Heâs silent, like heâs thinking about what his next play should be. Youâve noticed he does that a lot. Plans what he's going to say before he does, like heâs trying to decide whatâs acceptable and whatâs not.Â
âI like Toy Story,â He mumbles, turning lazily towards you. âDoes that help?"
You pretend to think it over for a moment, leaning your chin into your palm. âDepends,â You shrug, dragging the word out. âWhich movies your favorite?â
He doesnât even blink when he responds. âThe third one, of course," He scoffs, like he's offended you even asked. "That plot twist with Latsoâs insane. And the monkey scene? Terrifying.â
You shrug, lips twisting thoughtfully. âTrue, but the scene of Jessie being thrown out in the second movie is the most iconic moment in all of the films. That song never fails to make me cry.â
He has a physical reaction at the mention of the scene, squeezing his eyes shut and grasping at his heart like heâs in pain. âDonât mention that song around me again or I swear Iâll throw up.â
You laugh, throwing your head back and pushing his shoulder. He grins at the contact, teeth flashing and upper lip curling slightly.
âOkay, but can we both agree the ending of the fourth one was awful?â You scoff, hands gesturing wildly, âIn what world would Woody leave behind his friends and his kid?â
He nods wildly in agreement, snapping his fingers like you've just said something Nobel Peace Prize worthy. âOh, absolutely. I just pretend that movie doesnât exist. I canât watch them ruin Woodyâs character like that.â
You kiss your teeth, definitely too worked up over a kids movie, but you canât find it in yourself to care. Not when the man next to you starts to go into a deep dive into Latsoâs character and how he was just a really misunderstood bear with abandonment issues.
You listen intently, genuinely interested. Youâve never met someone with such strong opinions on an animated bear, but he manages to make it sound so intellectual you almost forget youâre talking about Toy Story.
âYouâre really passionate about this, huh?â You tease. He flushes like youâve just reached out and kissed him, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.
âIs that a bad thing?â He questions softly.
You shake your head, âNo,â You draw out, tone low in that playful kind of way. âJust not what I expected.â
He hums, letting his gaze wander over your face and across the space behind you. He tucks his knees closer to his chest, tie hanging helplessly against his neck. âIâm full of surprises.â He says, clearly trying to be cheeky, but his tone is too soft to properly convey it.
You donât respond, instead copying him and tucking in your knees. Your ankles rest against the curve, arms hugging your legs closer to your body.Â
The silence fills the space comfortably. You donât feel any reason to fill it with mindless conversation, not like you normally would. Instead, for the first time in a long time, you feel like you can just be. No expectations, no nothing. Just two people existing in the same space.
âShit,â He huffs under his breath suddenly. You turn to look at him staring down at his phone, eyebrows furrowed in frustration and thumbs moving frantically over his phone.
You raise a brow, âSomething wrong?â
He swallows, taking in a breath and letting his phone fall to his lap. He shoots you a sheepish smile, âSomething came up at work,â He tells you bashfully, slapping his hands on his knees as he stands. You follow, the hem of your dress blowing in the wind.
He nods towards his car, âLet me take you home?â He asks, holding out a hand for you.
You glance down at it and resist the urge to tell him that you donât exactly have many other options right nowânot unless you feel like dealing with Sunooâs attitude for waking him up or paying a ridiculous amount of money for an uber. (Both of which you really donât feel like doing). But the gesture in itself is sweet as long as you donât think too hard about giving your address to a man who wonât even tell you his name.
So, after zero to no contemplation, you take his hand and allow him to lead you back to his car. He does the whole gentleman act again, opening your door and all that. Sweet, really.
By the time you tell him your address and he pulls out of the parking lot your eyes are heavy with sleep. Ariana Grande plays gently through the speakers, her voice unfortunately lulling you to sleep. He doesnât say anything when your head slowly tilts towards the window, nor when your eyes start to drift closed. He just glances at you knowingly, fingers gripping the wheel tightly, overly aware of the road in front of him. Heâd always been a bit of a reckless driver, speeding on empty country roads, forgetting to turn on his signal when he changed lanes. But tonight he drives careful. Smooth. Like he's moving something precious.
You donât even register the car stopping. Itâs not until he shakes your shoulder lightly do you stir, your head shooting up and a hand coming to wipe down your face. âIâm up, Iâm up,â You mumble, voice slightly coarse.
He grins, one hand resting on the wheel and the other tapping against the center console. âNice place,â He says, jutting his chin towards the window.
You shrug, too tired to care if heâs teasing or if he means it genuinely. Not like youâd ever be seeing him again anyway. You hum, stretching out your arms.
You look over to him, giving him one last look over, memorizing the small bump on his nose and the prominent curve of his cupid's bow.Â
This guy, whoever he is, is by far one of the most interesting people youâve ever met in your life. Maybe thatâs why you let him kiss you--why you let him take you for shitty fast food despite the risks. Your chest feels hollow at the thought of leaving himâespecially because you know the chances of ever seeing him again are slim to none. You canât even look him up online either, which really sucks and is going to piss Sunoo off when you tell him about all this.
He raises a brow, leaning back in his seat as he watches you. âWhat is it?â He asks, a small, embarrassed laugh escaping him.
You part your lips to answer, but nothing comes out. How do you say, Oh, you kind of changed my life so now I'm trying to memorize your face so that when I'm old I can tell my kids about the man that shouldâve been their fatherâwithout sounding like a total creep?
The answer is simple: You can't.
So, instead you just shake your head, letting your gaze fall to the door. âNothing.â
He doesnât say anything, just watches as you pull the handle and slip out of the car. The air is chillier now, sending goosebumps up your arms, but you donât rush inside. Instead, you let your gaze fall back onto him, lingering there like you're hoping for him to do something.
He blinks, shooting you a small smile. One that says more than heâs willing to say out loud. âIâll see you around?â
You hum, disspointment curling in your chest even though you know it shouldn't. âYeah,â You murmur, âIâll see you around, Woody.â
And then you're closing the door and walking away, not even glancing back at him once. Itâs not until you're inside and heâs been sitting outside long enough for it to be considered creepy does he realize what you called him.
Woody. Like fucking Toy Story.
And for some reason, he really hopes heâll be able to hear you say it again.
âOkay, wait, let me get this straight,â Sunoo snorts, head hanging off of the edge of your bed. You can see him watching you through your vanity mirror. âYou met some rando guy at the wedding from hell, let him kiss you, take you to eat, and drive you homeâall without knowing his name?â
You roll your eyes, smacking your lips together as you apply your last bit of lipgloss. You had an interview for a promotion at work today, one that youâve been both dreading and unreasonably excited for.Â
âYes, that is what I said.â You grumble. Itâs only been two days since your encounter with Woody, a fitting nickname in your opinion given his expert analysis on Toy Story, but you havenât been able to stop thinking about him.
Which shouldn't be all that surprising, considering everything that happened, but it was a serious inconvenience for you at the moment. You had more important things to worry about that didn't include a beautiful blonde man with a sweet smile.
Sunoo rolls onto his tummy, shooting you a glare. âWell, excuse me for trying to wrap my head around all ofâŠthat.âÂ
You don't even blink. âYouâre excused.â
He rolls his eyes, pushing himself up onto his knees and then maneuvering his position so heâs sitting criss-crossed on your bed. You fluff up your hair again, turning your head from side to side and assessing your makeup. Itâs casual, something that says I-tried-but-not-too-hard. Something you've deemed safe for an interview.
âIâm just saying,â Sunoo continues, beginning to scroll mindlessly on his phone, âItâs just not like you. I mean, it took you months before you even let Luke hold your hand.â
You sigh, whipping around and grabbing your computer from your desk. You shove it into your bag roughly, wincing when it catches on a stray paper and rips it slightly. âI know that,â You huff, annoyed and slightly overstimulated, âItâs-I don't know- it just happened!âÂ
Sunooâs nose scrunches slightly. You can tell he wants to argue, but heâs been your friend since your freshman year of college, so he knows when to push back and when not to. You're grateful for his kind of sixth sense, because if he wouldâve said anything else you're not sure your friendship would survive the aftermath.
The office is busy, just like it always is, but today it makes you anxious. Someone walks too closely behind you, making you self-conscious about your pace. Should you speed up? If you did, would it be obvious that you did because of them?
Sunoo walks calmly beside you, Iced Coffee in one hand and phone in the other. He smiles at some reel on his screen, nudging your shoulder to show you. You barely glance at it, letting out a short hum of acknowledgment and going back to gnawing anxiously on your lower lip.
Itâs not like youâre super worried. Youâve been working here for five years, head journalist in the sports department for two. The promotion should go to youâbut just because it should doesnât mean it will.
Your stomach knots up again.
By the time you reach the elevators youâre so pale you could be Draculaâs daughter. Sweat collects on your hands, and, wow is it getting hot in here?
âSunoo,â You manage to grit out, eyes wide with panic. âI think Iâm dying.â
He looks up from his phone then, and when his eyes land on you his expression immediately turns serious.
âY/N,â He says, not harshâjust to the point. âYou are not going to die because of an interview. You are going to go answer some bullshit questions about things you know you excel at, and then weâre going to celebrate at that coffee shop off of 5th Street, okay?â
You nod shakily, breathing still a little uneven. âOkay, okay, okay,â You mumble. âI got this.â
He nods, placing a hand on your arm, âYou got this.â
God, you really hope you do.
The interview is over as quickly as it started. You were shaking the whole time admittedly, giving practiced answers and praying your voice doesnât crack. (It didâbut only once. So kind of a win but also not?)
Sunoo, as promised, takes you to coffee after. The cafeâs barely a block away from your work, and you hate to admit that youâve definitely spent more money here the necessary.
The scent of coffee beans and steamed milk hits your nose when you push the door open. Most people are still at work or school, so itâs relatively empty aside from a few stragglers.Â
âWeâll sit over there,â Sunoo says, lazily pointing towards a table by the back. Itâs the same one you always sit atâone youâd joked had been specifically made for late night work sessions and early morning complaints.
You take your seats across from each other, your legs crossed and his outstretched until they nearly touch your feet.
âSo,â He says, drawing out the world playfully. âHow do you feel?â
You shrug, bottom lip finding it's place in between your teeth once more. You answered everything how you think they wanted you to, but was that enough? What if they wanted you to go beyond and give answers that were more intellectual than what you did? What if they gave it to that guy who spent 30 minutes perfecting the amount of sugar in his coffee instead of you?
You sigh, shoulders drooping slightly. âI donât know. Good, I guess? But⊠also not.â
He raises a brow, arms crossing over his chest as he leans back in his chair. âWhat's that mean?â
âIâm just anxious, I think. Like, I know I probably did good, but thereâs that little part of me that feels like I didnât.â
Sunoo hums, a puff of air escaping him as he does. âYou need to stop being so hard on yourself,â He mutters, eyes locking onto yours. âYou and I both know no one in that office deserves it more than you do.â
âI know.â
He fixes you with a look, chin tilting slightly. âDo you?â
You donât respond to that. Not because you donât want to, but because you canât. Youâve always had a knack for overthinking things, even when there was no reason to. Thatâs why your actions with Woody had been so surprising. Any other time you wouldâve burst into flames at the mere thought of letting him kiss you like that, but for some reason you hadâand you hadnât even thought twice about it.
Your leg shakes uncomfortably, toes bouncing against the marble floor. Sunoo seems to sense your discomfort, and despite not wanting to, easily switches the topic.
âAnyway. Letâs talk about something other than your inability to give yourself creditââ He says cheekily, ignoring the glare you shoot at him, âWhatâre you wearing to Jay's wedding next month?â
You groan, throwing your head back before whipping it right back. âI completely forgot about that!â You cry. With the stress of your interview and whatever had happened last week with Woody your mutual friendâs wedding had completely slipped your mind.
Jay was one of the only friends who had chosen your side after everything blew up with Luke. He, along with Sunoo and one of your other friends Lizzie (Who Jay was now engaged to), had spent months making sure anyone who asked knew exactly what had really happened. They took any chance they could to drag Luke and Mandy through the mud, which you were secretly thankful for. Of course you told them to stop simply because it was the right thing to do, but inside you were cheering them on. Not that youâd ever tell them that.
âWow,â Sunoo laughs, reaching a hand up to cover his mouth. âYou really have been distracted then.â
You resist the urge to bury your head in your hands. âWhat am I even supposed to wear? I know Lizzie said she has a specific aesthetic in mind but I doubt I own anything with the exact same shade of pink as her fucking baby blanket.â
Sunoo shrugs, head tilting slightly. âDonât think so hard about it.â He says, âIâm sure theyâll have something at the mall.â
Your nose scrunches, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge. âWhatever,â You huff, âIâll probably just borrow something from someone.â
The conversation continues like normal after that, just like two friends having a casual meet together. But admittedly, your mind keeps drifting elsewhereâto a certain nameless blonde with honey brown eyes.
Maybeâjust maybeâheâll be at Jay and Lizzieâs wedding. And even though you know you shouldnât, you secretly hope he is.
Jay and Lizzieâs wedding is much more comfortable for you than the last one had been. The reception was beautiful--filled with baby pink accents and subtle peonies. Notably, it didnât make you want to claw your eyes out--and youâre actually able to converse with people instead of sitting in the back like some antisocial outcast.Â
You laugh at something Sunoo says, head tilting back and wine splashing out of your glass. Lizzie and Jay are somewhere on the dance floor, looking at each other like how people do when theyâve met their person. Itâs sweet, really. There isnât anybody who deserves their happy ending more than them.
You lean into Sunoo, raising your voice as you stumble slightly on your feet. You weren't exactly tipsy, just bordering between the laand of clear minded and not. âIâm gonna go get another drink,â You tell him.
He nods, waving you off and continuing his conversation with an old friend from CollegeâSoobin. You liked Soobin. He was funny and pretty in that boy-next-door kind of way, but he's always felt too elusive for you. The kind of man who seeped through your fingers like sand.
You weave through the countless bodies, mumbling apologies when you bump someone's shoulder. The open bar is located near the back corner, lined with multiple men trying to flirt with uninterested women. The sights more amusing than anything, really.Â
You squeeze through a couple, ignoring the man's glare and shooting the girl a subtle wink. She whispers a quiet thank you, grabbing her fruity cocktail and making her escape back to her friends.
It takes a moment for the bartender to notice you, but he shoots you a practiced grin when he does, notepad already in hand. âAnd what can I get for you, pretty lady?â
You laugh louder than intended, face flushing with heat. âA Strawberry Daquiri, maybe? Something light.â
He laughs, and you can tell itâs meant to be smooth, but it comes off wrong. Doesnât make warmth bloom in your chest, doesnât make you want to hear it again and again. Just lands far, far away from you.
âUsually something like that takes me awhile" He says slowly, leaning over the counter slightly. "But for you? I'll be faster then lightning." He winks once, then swirls around on his foot and attends to the man across the bar. You watch him go, chin resting in your hand, debating if you felt flattered or not.
âA Strawberry Daquiri? Really?â
It takes a moment for you to even register someoneâs talking to you, and even longer for you to register who it is. You blink, whipping your head to the side. Woodyâs standing there staring at the menu, strands of blonde hair falling over his forehead. He looks the same as he did the night you met himâloose tie, cheeky smile. The very same man youâd been thinking about before bed every night.
You stand up straighter, resting an arm against the counter and facing your body towards him. âWhat are you doing here?â You mean for it to come off serious and demanding, but your underlying relief slips through like waves in an open current.
He looks towards you lazily, like you were the weird one for asking. âCould ask you the same thing.â
You squint your eyes at him, âThe bride and groom are my friends.â
He just grins, eyes shining at you in that way that you know means trouble. âMaybe I know them too.â
âYou donât.â
He shoots back quickly. âHow are you so sure?â
Your lips part, but nothing comes out. Something about him is so infuriating it literally puts your brain on pause. You huff, rolling your eyes slightly. âYouâre annoying.â
He lets out a low hum, resting his hip on the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. âAnd yet youâre still talking to me.â
You want to deny him-- say it was because you were waiting for your drink and he was there, but you know thatâs a weak lie. You know itâs because youâd been secretly hoping heâd show up, and now that he had, leaving his side was the last thing on your mind.
You donât respond, instead just shrugging and turning away from him. You focus your eyes to the front, watching as the bartender moves swiftly between taking orders and making drinks. You feel Woody take a step closer to you, the scent of his cologne making your senses go blind. He smells like cedar and linen, subtle enough to go unnoticed by anyone not paying close attention. But thatâs exactly the problemâyou canât stop paying attention to him.
The bartender returns with your drink, shooting you a wink when he hands it over, one you barely notice. Instead, you're trying to ignore the way Woodyâs mere presence makes your nerves light on fire and goosebumps rise against your skin.
âHe was flirting with you.â He smirks, nudging your shoulder with his own.
You roll your eyes, stirring your drink with your straw before taking a slow sip. âHe definitely wasnât.â
You push off the counter and begin to walk away, trying to seem nonchalant despite the fire growing beneath your skin. Woody follows you seamlessly, lips curled in a toothy grin, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. âHe winked at you.â
You turn to him over your shoulder, raising a brow. âSo?â
He doesnât reply to that, just keeps following you closely like heâs afraid of losing you in the crowd.
âWhere are you sitting?â You ask, gesturing lamely towards the array of tables. He nods towards one in the back, clearly meant for decoration and not guests. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying to hide the way your lips quirk up in a near smile. âSeriously?â
He shakes his head in mock confusion, shoving his hands in his pockets. âWhat?â He asks, completely serious. âItâs nice and secluded. Away from any prying eyes, if you know what I mean.â
You canât help but laugh at his ridiculousness, shoulders shaking slightly as you do. âYouâre seriously ridiculous.â You mumble, taking his hand and dragging him back towards your own table near the front. He doesnât argue, but his eyes go wide and the tips of his ears flush a dangerous shade of pink.
Sunoo notices you approaching first, his lips parted over his glass and his eyebrows raised. Soobin is too consumed with something on his phone to even register what's happening around him.
âGuys,â You announce, dropping Woodyâs hand and instead using it to present him like your modeling your cat for a cat show. âThis isâŠumâŠâ
You remember then that you don't know his name. The same man that you'd been thinking about every day was the same man who'd rather kiss you then properly introduce himself to you.
âWoody.â He finishes for you, locking his gaze onto yours. âThatâs what all my friends call me, at least.â
You blink, nodding softly. âYeah,â You force yourself not to get lost in his eyes. Try to remind yourself that even though he's looking at you like that--it doesn't mean anything. âWoody.â
âLike Toy Story?â Soobin asks, finally looking away from his phone.
You just ignore him, instead pulling out the chair next to you for him to sit at. He does so easily, slipping into it like he belongs there.
Sunoo gives you a look, one that subtly says, who the fuck is this and why have I never seen him before?
You return it with a look of your own. Iâll tell you later.
The tables tense at first, Soobin and Sunoo clearly trying to adjust to the new setting, but any tension is easily dispelled by Soobin. âBut, seriously, did your parents name you after Toy Story?â
Woody laughs, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he does. âUh, I guess so.â He shrugs, glancing towards you. âThey have a pretty weird sense of humor.â
Soobin just hums his agreement, mumbling something about wishing his own parents named him after a disney character.
âSo, how do you two know each other?" Sunoo asks, taking a casual sip of his wine. You have to admit, heâs good at getting what he wants without making it seem like thatâs what heâs doing. Heâs got the whole innocent, curious bystander act down to a T. But you know heâs just nosy and doesnât know how to mind his own business.
âUh,â Woody clears his throat, âWork?â
âRighttt,â Sunoo drawls, clearly not believing the lie. âAnd what exactly is it that you do Woody?â
You swallow uncomfortably, âHeâs theâŠjanitor.â
Woody coughs, kicking your shin lightly under the table. âThe head janitor,â You continue, âJust got a promotion recently.â
Sunoo nods, still eyeing you both suspiciously, but either heâs too drunk to question you further or he just stopped caring. Either way, youâre thankful.
Conversation flows smoothly after that. The four of you (Well, everybody except Woody, who kept any personal questions as vague as possible), share stories from college and highschool, laughing until your cheeks hurt and the hours blend together like smudges of paint on an old pallet. Speeches are given, drinks are shared, and the music shifts from classy to downright dirty.
Thereâs a few stragglers on the dance floor, mostly drunk old ladies and their husbandsâslow dancing to songs that didnât call for it. Youâre sitting in comfortable silence, pretending to keep up with whatever it is Sunoo and Soobin are deep in conversation about. Something about which disney princess had it the hardest. You think the obvious answer is Belle, but youâd rather not get chewed alive for even thinking about sharing your irrelevant opinion.
Woody sits beside you quietly, eyes glancing at you every so often like he wants to say something. You want to ask him what it is, but your eyes keep drooping slightly and the thought of talking makes your head hurt. Drinking always makes you tired, so you arenât sure why you keep doing itâespecially at public events.
Ariana Grandeâs Love Me Harder begins to trickle through the speakers, the beginning notes familiar in your ears. Woody practically shoots up at the sound of it, lips parted slightly, staring you down like youâll move if he looks at you hard enough.
You peak over at him, lips pursued slightly. âWhat?â You mumble.
He points to the ceiling, knee bouncing in excitement. âThe song.â He states.
You stretch out your arms in front of you, confusion written all over your face. âWhat about it?â
He doesnât say anything else, instead just grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the dance floor before you can even think about protesting.
Your eyes are wide when you get there, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. âWhat are you doing?â You ask in disbelief. Your body is stiff, glancing around at the people next to you. There's a young girl in her twenties singing along to the song with her friend, the both clearly drunk. And on the other side is a man way too old to still be seeking dates at weddings, but he does so anyway, eyes glued to every woman that walks past him.
Woody shrugs, beginning to nod his head to the beat. âDancing.â
You snort, a hand coming up to cover your mouth when he starts moving the rest of his body. Heâs a good dancer, but you feel awkward standing here watching him like this. He lips the song dramatically, holding an invisible microphone in front of him.
âOh my God,â You mumble, âYouâre so weird.â
He just shrugs, clearly unbothered. âItâs fun,â He says matter-of-factly. âTry it.â
You immediately shake your head, looking towards Sunoo for rescue, but heâs too busy arguing with Soobin to notice your dire calls for help.
When it becomes clear that you'll have to get out of this yourself, you take a deep breath and try to explain without sounding like a total weirdo. âI...canât,â You state uncomfortably, taking a step back to build much needed space between you. âIâm not much of a dancer.âÂ
Woody doesnât even flinch when you say that. Instead, he grabs your hand and pulls you closer again. You stumble forward, chest touching his, but he stabilizes you with a hand at your waist. âSo?â He says softly, eyes shining. âItâs just me and you.â
Heâs right. No oneâs paying attention to the two of you, too focused on themselves and what they're doing. But it still doesnât do much to curve the nerves growing deep in your chest.
You shake your head, âI donât knowââ
He doesnât let you finish, instead using his free hand to poke your forehead gently. âStop thinking so much,â He says, beginning to sway around gently, âAnd just feel the music.â
Your breath catches in your throat, heat crawling up your neck. His words shouldnât make you feel like this, but for reasons youâd rather push down and ignore forever, they do. And so, you listen.
Your movements are stiff at first, arms mechanical like youâre thinking about everything before you do it. Woody watches with a grin, his tie swaying back and forth with every swing of his hips. Youâre surprised it hasnât given up completely and crumbled onto the floor.
His hands find your waist again, guiding your movements until they're smoother, less like a robot and more like youâre gliding through butter. âThere you go,â He chuckles, voice coming out a little breathless.Â
Your lips quirk up faintly as you get the hang of it, your nerves dissolving until you feel like youâre floating. Woody watches you shamelessly, continuing to mouth the words. He gets on his knees dramatically when the ending chorus comes on, singing into his invisible microphone during The Weeknds lines. When Arianaâs turn comes on again he tilts it towards you with a grin.
You laugh, singing her part and then pulling him back onto his feet. He pretends to stumble dramatically, grabbing onto his shoulder like youâve hurt him. You just roll your eyes and keep dancing.
You continue like that well into the night. People walk by, shooting you sideways glances, all of which you hardly notice. For the second time, this nameless man has managed to coax you out of your shell, and all without even trying.Â
Soon enough, the couple does their sendoff, leaving you and all the others outside. Sunooâs busy getting the uber while you sit on the curb, a hint of a smile on your face that you canât quite wipe away.Â
You donât turn when someone sits besides you, already too aware of who it is.
âSo,â He breathes out, whistling low. âTonight was fun.â
âYeah,â You agree softly, hugging your knees to your chest. âIt was.â
Theres a pause, and then, âYouâre a horrible dancer, by the way.â
You elbow him so hard he nearly topples over.
âI'm kidding, Iâm kidding! Truce!â He laughs, throwing his hands up in surrender.Â
You glare at him, though there isnât any resentment behind it. âYouâre an asshole.â
He blinks, expression going soft. âAn asshole youâd like to give your phone number to?â
That stuns you. Your head shoots up, gaze locking onto his. He looks almost sheepish, eyebrows knit together and hands tapping against his lap.
You chew on the inside of your cheek, giving him a once-over. âI still donât even know your name.âÂ
He nods, like heâd been expecting rejection. âI know,â He murmurs, âI justâŠI want it to keep being like this for a while, yeah? Just me and you.â
Just me and you. He says it like it's a fact of nature. Like the two of you would be together well into the future. It's a thought that makes your throat constrict, though you don't know why.
You turn your gaze towards the road. âI donât see how your name is going to change that.â
He shrugs, copying your actions and staring off into the dark. âMaybe it wonât,â He swallows, adams apple bobbing. âOr maybe it will.â
You cross your arms onto your knees and lean down on them, successfully hiding your face. You should say no. Should stand up, remember what it means to have self-respect, and walk away from him for good. What use is there in getting involved with a man you donât even really know?
But then your eyes find the side of his face, eyes trailing down until you can see the rise and fall of his chest. In truth, he looks straight out of some cheesy romance novel youâll read once and then compare every real-life romantic encounter to.
But it isnât just his looks. Itâs him. The way he gets you to open up so easily, pulling you out of your comfort zone without even blinking.Â
Meeting once was a coincidence. But twice? MaybeâŠthere was something pulling you towards each other that you couldnât quite see. Something that wants you to memorize all his outlines even if itâll inevitably end with your undoing.
You sigh, opening your phone and nonchalantly handing your phone to him.
He glances at it, eyes dragging towards you. Thereâs a sly grin on his face when he takes your phone from you, fingers brushing yours as he does.
âKnew youâd give in.â He teases, typing his contact information.
You scoff, nudging his shoulder with yours. âDonât get a big head about it.â
âToo late.â
Sunoo approaches then, shoulders curled in on himself, clearly exhausted. âAre you done flirting yet? The Uberâs about to be here and if I donât get in my bed ASAP someone is going to die.â
You flush, eyes going wide as you shoot him a warning look. âSunoo.â You hiss.
Woody chuckles, waving you off. âGo ahead,â He nods, âJust text me when you get home, okay?â
âUh,â You blink, standing and letting Sunoo drag you away. âYeah, okay. Sure. I can do that.â
Sunoo complains in your ear, something about Soobin ticking him off, but youâre not listening. Instead your head is turned, watching Woody get smaller and smaller the further you get.
You donât hear from Woody for two weeks. A fact you are painfully aware of, even though youâre trying very hard to seem like youâre not. Sunoo has commented on your apparent inability to sit still, constantly checking your phone like it holds the secret to life. You lie through your teeth every time he points it out, claiming that youâre just anxious to get the results for the promotion.
And while that is true, itâs not why your shoulders sag every time you're met with a notification from your mom instead of the person you actually want to hear from.
Itâs not like you care. (You do). He clearly has better things to do than text you, and thatâs okay! (Youâre seriously starting to lose your mind).
Maybe it would be better if you had some kind of idea of what his day-to-day life looked like, but you donât. And every time you remember that itâs a painful reminder that the man running circles in your mind is someone you don't actually know, no matter how much you try to act like you do.
Youâve tried to piece him together in your mind more times than you can count. Imagining him behind a desk, making deals over the phone. Or maybe he did something humbler, like volunteering for nonprofits or working at animal shelters. Anything was possible really.
It feels like youâve begun to make up an entire life for him, one you know isnât real yet brings a smile to your face every time you imagine him doing whatever task it is youâve conjured up. Would he be more into movies or books? Did he like his coffee hot or cold? Why was he so obsessed with Ariana Grande?
You sigh, sinking deeper into your pillows. Your phone lays abandoned at your side, screen dimming until it eventually goes dark. Scrolling doesnât even bring you comfort anymore, which is pretty inconvenient for you considering your mind seems to go a mile a minute without it.
Youâd texted him like promised when you got home after Jay and Lizzieâs wedding, telling him that youâd made it home and had had a good time. (You wanted to say had a good time with himâbut decided that was probably too forward and quickly deleted it.)
Heâd responded immediately something about being glad you made it home and that he hoped to see you again soon.
And then that was that.
No more texts. No more encounters. Just the lingering memory of a man with no name who managed to seep into the cracks of your heart like sticky syrup.
It happens a couple days later. Your phone dings, but youâre so engrossed in writing another article on olympic figure skater Park Sunghoon to really register it.Â
Itâs not until it dings again do you spare it a glance, and there sitting casually against the screen like he hasnât consumed your life is Woody. Or, more specifically, his text bubble.
You scramble to grab it, ignoring how your computer slides off your lap and instead ripping your phone from the charger. Is it pathetic? Maybe.Â
Woody: Hey
Woody: Are you busy Saturday?
Your breath catches slightly, bottom lip finding purchase in between your teeth. Heâs asking you a very normal, simple question. The kind of thing people ask their friends all the time. So why does it feel so different coming from him?
It takes you longer then youâd like to admit for you to respond. Everything you come up either feels too rehearsed or too casual. Should you use punctuation? He had in his second text but not the first, so that doesnât exactly give you much to work with.Â
You eventually settle on something safe.Â
Y/N: Hi
Y/N: Iâm not really sure yet. Why?
Itâs a lie. In truth, your only plans on Saturday are sitting on your couch rewatching New Girl. But you donât want him to know how much of a loser you actually are. Plus, if he can have secrets, you think itâs only fair you do too.
Woody: Thereâs a wedding this weekend. Friend told me about itâŠthought you might want to come.
Woody: Only if youâre available, of course. Iâm sure youâre veryyy busy.
You scoff, lips curving into a smile. Of course he sees right through youâsomehow able to read you even without seeing you.
Thatâs how you end up in a dress youâd gotten from Goodwill the night before, pacing in your living room while you wait for Woody to pick you up. Youâd told him youâd meet him there, but heâd insisted he come get you instead. When you asked why heâd simply said: Pretty ladies shouldnât be expected to lift a finger when invited somewhere.
And, yeah. You had squealed into your pillow like a middle school girl when he said that. Butâwhatever. Thatâs besides the point.
The point is that youâre about to go wedding crashing with a man who you feel like you know everything about when you really know nothing! Put that on a dating podcast.
You freeze when the doorbell rings, eyes going wide and pulse jumping in your ears. You force yourself to take several deep breaths, smoothing down the ends of your hair and doing your best to look casual and not like you were mid panicking.
You creak the door open slowly, and the sight that greets you is one that makes you pause. Woodyâs there, same loose tie, same coy smileâbut heâs holding flowers. A giant bouquet filled with a rainbow of different colored plants.
He looks almost shy, holding it out to you like heâs scared youâll reject them. âI didnât know which ones were your favorites,â He huffs out a laugh through his nose, âSo I just got as many as possible.â
âThatâsâŠâ You clear your throat, trying to seem unaffected, when in reality your heart is spasming. âTheyâre beautiful. Thank you.â
He shrugs, trying to seem casual, but you can see the pink in his cheeks. âWasnât any problem.â
âStill,â You insist, taking the bouquet from him and setting it on your kitchen island. You open your cabinet and pull out a pink vase. âYou didnât have to do that.â
He swallows, watching as you carefully fill the vase with water and then peel the flowers out of their packaging. You do it gently, careful not to bump any of the petals and accidently damage them.
He lets out a shaky breath, like the site of you being so domestic is too much to handle. By the time you look up his gaze is focused behind you, eyes squinted like heâs hyperfocused on anything that doesnât have to do with you.
Your eyes catch on his tie, noticing the way it dangles low on his chest, clearly strung together in a hurry. Youâre used to it by now, but your body moves before your mind can catch up, and then your hands are on him, nifty fingers redoing the knot.
He watches you the whole time, chin tilted slightly and eyes filled with softness and something else. Youâre careful not to focus on the fact that you can feel his breath against your nose, or the way his scent overtakes your senses until you canât think about anything except for him, or the way heâs watching you so intently.
Your fingers loop the tie until it forms into a proper knot, tugging it up his chest until it rests just below his neck. His throat bobs when he swallows, and you faintly feel it against your knuckles.
The air in the room suddenly feels heavy, like a weighted blanket against your chest. You glance up at him, finally allowing yourself to meet his eyes. And, God, how you wish you hadnât.
Itâs one thing to feel his gaze. To know youâre being watched. But seeing it? That's an entirely different thing.
Your breath catches, lips parting just slightly. All you would have to do is push forward the tiniest bit and your lips would meet his. You watch his gaze fall to your lips and linger there for a moment before he forces them back up.Â
Thereâs a moment where youâre sure gravity ceases to exist. All thatâs left is the undeniable pull between you, the space feeling like water in your lungs and the only relief would be to close it.
â[Y/N],â He mumbles, voice shaking and breathless. He soundsâŠalmost needy. Like this is something heâs thought about a thousand times before and he canât believe heâs finally living it.
Your own voice isnât much better when you respond with a quiet, âMhm?â
âI should tell youââ
You jump when his phone begins to ring in his pocket, cracking through the moment like a bolt of lightning. You pull away from him swiftly, eyes wide and chest nearly heaving. Your entire body burns, from the tips of your ears to the soles of your feet.
He curses as he reaches for it, eyes glancing over the screen wearily before he silences it and shoves it back in his pocket.
You do your best to steady your breathing, clearing your throat and smoothing down your dress. âWho was that?â You ask.
His lips curl downwards, eyes flashing with annoyance. "Doesn't matter,â He sighs, extending a hand to you. âYou ready to go?â
And because you have limited self-control around him and an inability to say no, you accept it and follow him to his car.
The wedding is big. Like, the kind of wedding that you come to and realize, wow, these people really are in a different tax-bracket than I am. Thereâs at least a hundred tables, all arranged around a large swan ice sculpture. The walls are covered in glass, showing off the expansive lake outside and the white wooden gazebo. It almost feels like something out of a movie.
You swallow uncomfortably, mouth going dry. You knew what you were signing up for when youâd agreed to come with him, but now that itâs actually happening youâre having some regrets. What if somebody realizes you donât fit in? Your dress is from Goodwill for God's sake! Meanwhile every other woman here is dressed head to toe in name brands that youâve never even heard of.
âUh,â You manage, glancing wearily around the room. You swear you can feel people looking at you. âMaybe this isnât a good idea.â
He has the audacity to chuckle, head tilting back slightly. You shoot him a pointed glare, arms crossing over your chest. âIâm serious!â You hiss.
âI know you are,â He responds, voice smooth and light. âAnd thatâs exactly why weâre staying.â
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to make sense of his logic. âThat doesnât even make any sense!â
He shrugs, turning on his heel and making his way to the open bar, leaving you behind. You stand frozen for a moment, still trying to process why the hell youâre here and coming to the conclusion that you should probably call an uber and go home.
You follow him anyway.
This bar isnât nearly as chaotic as the one at Lizzie and Jay's wedding. Itâs classier in a way, full of people drinking 80-year-old wine instead of cheap drug store beer. Itâs kind of intimidating, and you can feel the way you shrink in on yourself when someone glances at you for too long.
Woody orders your drinks, but youâre not paying attention. Instead youâre picking at your fingers, wincing every time you pull the skin a little too far.
Youâd picked up the habit as a kid, a way to curve your evergrowing anxiousness. But after your mom noticed your hands turning into a mini crime scene sheâd quickly put a stop to the habit. But, sometimes, when you felt so overwhelmed you were sure you were going to pass out and die, youâd let yourself indulge. Anything to help ground you.
You can feel your head spinning, breaths coming in shallow and eyes welling up with tears. You really shouldnât be here. This is weird and people definitely know what youâre doing and oh my god youâre going to be sickâ
A hand shoots out to grab yours, fingers pulling you back to reality. You look up to see Woody gazing at you with so much concern itâs nearly enough to bring you out of your head completely.
âHey, hey,â He mumbles, voice hushed. âYouâre okay, just breathe.â
You do as he says, sucking in deep breaths in that way your therapist taught you when you were 12. Box breathing heâd called it. Youâd thought it was ridiculous until freshman year of high school when you came face to face with your first F and realized why people had to use it.
It takes a couple of moments for you to get full control of your senses again, but when you do youâre suddenly panicking for an entirely different reason. What kind of person gets so deep into their head over where their dress is from they nearly send themselves into a full fledged panic attack? You, apparently.
You slap your hands over your face, lips twisting in discomfort. âIâm sorry,â You start, voice still a bit warbly and slightly muffled, âI just get really into my head sometimes andââ
Woody grabs your wrists with a featherlight touch, thumbs hovering over your pulse points. He pulls them away gently, forcing you to come back into the world and away from the safety your hands brought.
âWhy are you apologizing?â He asks.
Your lips part. Then close. Then part again. Then close again. You donât really know how to answer him because youâve never been asked that before. Usually you apologize and then things are awkward for the rest of the night. But he doesn't expect that from you. Instead, he was genuinely worriedânot just because it was seen as the polite thing to do. He genuinely cares.
And that in itself is enough to pull you back to reality completely.
âBecauseâŠâ You laugh nervously, âI probably ruined tonight, didnât I?â
He wets his lips, eyes catching on something past your head. He doesnât say anything, just gives you a crooked grin and wraps one hand more firmly around your wrist, the other falling to his side. âWho said anything about ruining?â He teases, tilting his head towards the entrance. âCâmon.â
He leads you outside, palm warm and heavy in your own. The sun has dipped low below the lake, casting the sky in deep shades of orange and pink. The air has the musky scent it always does when you're near fresh water, but thereâs something else too. The faint smell of an approaching rain, one that you hadnât prepared for.
Woody slows his pace when he reaches the steps to the small gazebo, wooden steps creaking under his weight. He bows dramatically, gesturing towards the open space. âAfter you.â
You roll your eyes, but there isnât any mirth in it. More likeâŠendearence? âWhat are you doing?" You ask, feet glued to the grass.
He looks up at you and straightens his back, âWeâre enjoying the wedding? Is this some kind of trick questionâŠ?â
You frown, glancing towards the building. You can see people still talking inside, moving around each other like fish in a swirling sea of gold accents. âThe weddings in there.â You point out.
He just rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand once more and pulling you up the stairs. âStop thinking so much just this once, yeah?â He laughs, soft and airy and way too pure. âJustâŠdance with me.â
You can feel your skin flushing. Can feel the heat crawling up your neck in unwanted waves. You donât even know how to respond, mouth going dry and lips tightening together.
âThere isnât any music.â You mutter lamely, avoiding his gaze. Itâs a bad excuse, you know. But you're not exactly well versed in the art ofâŠwhatever this even is.
âThatâs okay,â He says, snaking a hand around your waist smoothly. You hardly even register it until you're stumbling forward slightly, catching yourself with two hands against his chest. âWe donât need it.â
You arenât exactly sure how things play out after that. Itâs mostly him leading and you following blindly, but eventually youâre swaying softly together. His hands settle against your waist, holding you gently. Yours end up wrapped around his neck, fingers clasped at his upper back. The fairy lights flicker on once the sky turns from a painted canvas into something darker, highlighting the dips of his face in warm lighting. Somewhere, crickets chirp endlessly, speaking to each other in their native tongue.
In truth, you canât quite meet his eyes. Itâs absolutely embarrassing being a twenty-something-year-old and unable to look a guy in the eyes, but you really just canât do it. And itâs not because of the fact that youâre slow dancing in a gazebo under an array of hanging lights, but itâs something else you arenât sure you want to accept. Something that sits deep in your chest, practically begging to claw its way up and out and into the open air.
You push it down as hard as you can.
He cuts through the silence then, voice a hushed whisper, like heâs scared the moment will break if he speaks too loud. âThis is better, right?â
You swallow, nodding once. âYeah,â You breathe out. âThank you.â
He hums, thumbs beginning to rub featherlight circles into your sides.
The entire thing is entirely too intimate. You should pull away. Should tell him that this is way too much considering he refuses to share the most basic piece of knowledge with you. But you donât. Instead, against your will, your hands tighten around his neck, cheek resting against the hard plains of his chest.
His heartbeat picks up the slightest bit before smoothing out again. You can feel it beating against your ear, consistent and comforting in a way that nearly makes your eyes droopy.
âWhat are we doing?â You finally manage to ask him, voice so small you arenât sure heâs even able to hear it. Rain begins to drop from the sky, pelting softly against the roof of the gazebo.
âDancing.â He answers easily.
You lift your head then, eyes finding his own under the soft glow. Theyâre soft and beautiful and gazing at you in a way that should be considered illegal.
Your lips quirk up, but quickly fall back down. âThatâs not what I meant.â You mumble.
He blinks, squeezing your waist once. âI know.â
Thereâs a moment of silence then, but the space between you is enough to cloud your mind with millions of thoughts.Â
âIâm going to tell you,â He sighs, eyes falling to the floor. He watches the way your weight shifts back and forth on your feet. âSoon. I promise.â
Your eyebrows furrow, fingers running over the baby hairs at the back of his neck. âWhy?â You ask, âWhy is it so hard to tell me?â You donât mean for it to come out as harsh as it does, but he doesnât even flinch at your tone. Just takes it without firing back.
âItâs complicated,â He insists, voice low. The rain begins to fall down harder, plopping against the roof and muffling the world around you.
Truthfully, youâre getting kind of sick of his constant refusal. The only explanation you can come up with for it is that heâs either some kind of war criminal or secret service agent. Neither are options you particularly enjoy.
You release him and take a step back. His hands linger at your waist, clearly hesitant to let go, but you shoot him a look and they drop to his sides.
âHow is your name complicated?â You question, arms crossing over your chest.Â
He runs a hand over his face, head shaking softly. âYou donât understandââ
You throw your arms up, eyes widening visibly. âYouâre right, I donât understand!â Your breathings uneven now, a humorless laugh bubbling out of your chest. âYou-You kiss me, dance with me, comfort me." Your voice becomes hushed, "Look at me likeâlike that.â
He takes a step forward, you take another step back. Then again. And again. Until your back is against the fence of the gazebo and you can feel the rain misting over your shoulders and hair. He doesnât crowd you, but heâs close enough that your breath catches. âLike what?â
You swallow, resisting the urge to look away from him. Everything in you is begging you to run away. To turn around and pretend this never happened.Â
âDonât.â You breathe out shakily, hands clenched at your sides. âDonât act like you donât know.â
He doesnât reply right away. Instead, he lets your words hang in the air like a dre, the tension palpable. âI did all of those things,â He finally replies, voice tense. âBecause I wanted to. Because you deserved it after what they did to you.â
Your eyebrows furrow, confusion written all over your face. âWhatâ?â
âI lied to you.â He interrupts, taking the smallest step back. His hand runs through his hair, forcing the blonde strands back for a second before they fall back into place. âThat first night we met. I told you I didnât know Luke or Mandy. ButâŠit wasn't true.â
You remember exactly what heâs talking about. ButâŠwhy would he lie? What was the point? Because he wanted to? What does that even mean?
âYouâre not making any sense right now.â You mumble, hands coming up to rub at your temples.
He smiles, the same one heâd had that night he met you. But it's bleaker now, filled with more emotion than you know how to handle.
âI know,â He says shakily, âJust hear me out, okay?â
Your lips tighten together, but you nod anyway.
âWhen I saw you at the wedding,â He sucks in a breath, âIt reminded me of the first time I saw you. Back in college.â
Your breath stutters, heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You try to study his face now, going through everybody you knew back then, but nothing comes up.
He continues, âI didnât know anyone except for Luke. Weâd been the only two people from our high school to end up going to the same university. We were friends because it was convenient.â He sniffs, tugging the edge of his tie. âYou and Mandy were there. At orientation. Your hair was in this crazy updo and I thought it was so cool. I wanted to go to talk to you. But Luke couldnât stop talking about her. Mandy.â
Your chest constricts. Itâd always been her then? Heâd only gotten with you so he could get to fucking Mandy? Youâd thought you were done getting hurt by them, but apparently not.
âYou smiled at me that day.â He murmurs, voice thick. âAnd I thought you were the most beautiful girl Iâd ever seen.âÂ
You swallow, heart hammering against your chest.
His lips curve downwards, eyes narrowing slightly. âMe and Luke stopped talking as much after that. Heâd found his friends and I found mine. But the one thing I was certain of was that I was going to finally talk to you. So I went to a party, planned out how I was going to introduce myself to you and everything. I saw you and I was walking over to you butââ He pauses, eyes squeezing shut. âYou were with him. And you looked so happy and in love and I knew Iâd missed my chance.â
You donât know what to say. You donât know how to process any of this without a bucket of ice cream and reruns of Glee.
âI stayed in the background after that. Just watching. And it sucked but I figured that was just how it had to be.â He chuckles, âAnd then I got the wedding invitation and I saw that he wasnât getting married to you, but to her. And I thought to myself whatâre the chances you show up? Clearly very high, because you did.â
He sucks in a breath, finally meeting your gaze. He looks wrecked. âAnd I lied because I got too in my head. I wanted to be someone else. Someone more like him.â He grimaces when he says it.Â
âIâm glad youâre not,â You finally cut in, taking the smallest step towards him. âIâm glad youâre not him.â
His lips quirk up and a breathless laugh leaves him. His face turns serious again, tone grim. "When you told me what they did...What he did," His eyes stay locked onto yours. "I wanted to fucking kill him."
You swallow, hands twisting into the fabric of your dress. He sounds so angry just talking about, like the thought of it is enough to rile him up again.
"That's why I kissed you. Why I dance with you. Why I comfort you. Why I look at you like that." He takes a cautious step towards you, "Because I'm so in love with you it hurts."
Tears well up in your eyes, a mix of disbelief and... relief. Like hearing him say those words is everything you'd been wanting to hear and yet too much at the same time.
You want to run into his arms. Want to kiss him until your breaths become his. But, for once, you're able to find your self control.
He tries to smile, but it's weak. Unsure. "Please say something." He nearly begs.
You let out a shaky breath, eyes flickering over his face. âI don't know what to say," You admit softly. You try to control your breathing, but your head is spinning and your emotions keep crashing over you in desperate waves. "I need...time. I think. I don't know. I just--" You hiccup without meaning too, "I need space."
His face drops, but he doesn't argue. Doesn't push for you to talk to him. Just puts his hands on his hips and nods. âYeah. Okay. I can take you homeââ
You shake your head, already pulling out your phone. âNo,â It hurts coming out. âIâll call someone.â
He freezes, something painful flashing in his eyes. âItâs raining.â
You swallow, unshed tears swimming behind your eyes. âI know.â
He looks like he wants to say more, but he refrains. His hands shove into his pockets, chin falling towards the floor. âOkay,â He says shakily. âIâll go.â
You donât respond, just watch him twist on his heel and walk into the pouring rain. He doesnât turn around, and you don't call out to him.
Itâs not until heâs no longer visible do you let the tears fall.
Sunoo doesnât ask any questions when you climb into his car soaking wet and sobbing. Just turns up the heat and goes five over the speed limit the entire way to his apartment.
In truth, you donât know why youâre crying. You think youâre justâŠoverwhelmed. Does what he did count as lying? You donât really know. You don't really know if you should be mad or hurt or what either.
You do know that you need to take some time to sort yourself out.
Sunoo leads you onto his couch silently, taking a seat next to you and crossing his arms. He hands you a tissue from the coffee table. âAlright, spill.â
It flows out of you like an open damn. The kiss (though he already knows about that), the dancing, the gazebo--all of it. It feels good to get it off your chest, but saying it out loud also makes it seem all the more real.
The way heâd looked at you when he left. The way his voice broke when he told you he loved you. That he was in love with you.
âAnd I still donât know his fucking name!â You groan, hands wiping at the tears on your cheeks.
Sunoo hums, seamlessly handing you another tissue. âThatâsâŠa lot.â
You scoff out a laugh, leaning against the cushions. Part of you hopes theyâll swallow you whole. âTell me about it.â
Sunoo doesnât say anything, and for a moment the only noise between you is his soft breaths and your quiet sniffles.
âDid you ever notice him?â He asks, âBack then, I mean.â
Your chest constricts, because, no, you hadnât. Youâd tried to remember his face, but all that ever comes up is Luke. Youâd been so enamored with him that the thought of even looking at any other guys never even occurred to you.
Meanwhile, Luke was using you to get to the person closest to you.
Would things have been different if you would've just opened your eyes? If you wouldâve looked away from him for a second and saw who was waiting for you? Would you have left?Â
You hate that you arenât sure.
âNo,â You answer truthfully, breath catching in your throat. âI was so focused on Luke I never evenâŠâ You trail off, swallowing uncomfortably.
Sunoo nods, bringing a hand out to rub comfortingly on your bicep. âI can see you thinking.â He condemns, âStop it. You didnât know.â
âThatâs the problem!â You insist, tears brimming behind your eyes again. âHow could I not notice what was right under my nose. Woody and-and the cheating. I was so blind and for what? Because he was the first guy to give me attention?â
Sunoo gives you a sympathetic look, eyebrows knitting together. âHe was your first love, [Y/N]. She was your best friend. No one suspects something like that without seeing it with their own two eyes.â He says gently.
You frown. Heâs right, you know he isâbut still. It doesnât make you feel any less dumb.
âAnd I keep thinking about what mightâve happened if Iâd just opened my eyes for two seconds. If what Woody said is true thenâŠhow much did I miss out on with him?â You murmur, eyes downcast.
Sunoo sighs, standing from the couch and grabbing water from the kitchen. You thank him as he hands it to you, taking a swift sip. Itâs smooth going down, but it does nothing to soothe the ache in your chest.
âI wonât lie to you and say itâs not a valid question,â He tucks his feet under himself, propping his elbow against the cushion and leaning his head on it. âBut you canât spend the rest of your life wondering. Especially not when heâs here now. Still waiting for you, might I add.â
You snort, but thereâs no humor behind it. âI know,â You mumble, âI just think I need time to try and process everything.â
He smiles, âThereâs nothing wrong with that.â
You spend the rest of the night talking about work and whatnot. Anything that doesnât have to do with college or boys. And it does help for the most part, but Woody's words still linger in your mind like honey in the cracks of your brain.
It happens a couple days later. Your boss calls you to congratulate you on receiving the promotion, voice loud and bubbling in your ear, but you canât even find it in yourself to share in the enthusiasm. You want to, you really do, but your heart it too heavy.
You keep checking your phone to see if heâs sent anything to you, but he never does. You had asked him for space though, so you canât exactly be mad at him for giving you exactly what youâd asked for.
But stillâŠpart of you had hoped heâd at least say something. Maybe even just a: Hey, How are you? I know I sort of lied to you but isn't it also romantic when you really think about it?
But, now that youâve had some time to process everythingâŠyou want to see him. You want to speak to him and tell him exactly how youâve been feeling.
So, when Sunoo off handedly mentions a wedding his jobs hosting you canât help the idea that sparks in your mind.
You remember Woodyâs words from that night; âWhat're the chances you show up?â Heâd said, referring to you going to Luke and Mandy's wedding. So is it so crazy for you to ask the same?
If he does show up you arenât exactly sure what youâre going to say. You donât know how youâre going to look him in the eye, really. But youâd rather try and make a fool of yourself then not and never know what couldâve happened.
The first thing you notice when you arrive is how different this wedding is compared to all the others. Itâs more soft, in a way. With twinkling lights and green hanging vines, the whole thing looks straight out of a fairytale.
Youâd ditched the Goodwill dress and actually went to the mall and found a floor-length baby pink gown. The heart-shaped neckline is covered in white lace, accenting the pink silk in a way that looks almost doll-like. Youâd pulled your hair up as well, letting a few strands loose to frame your face. Even you had to admit you felt good.
Your eyes scan the area, watching as the bride and groom dance to some classical version of a Taylor Swift song. People watch them, sipping on their wines and swaying back and forth with their own spouses. You look through the crowd, trying to find that familiar head of blonde hair, but you come up empty.
Your chest squeezes, thoughts of uncertainty beginning to float around your head. What if this all really had been a mistake? Maybe he truthfully didnât want to see you again after everything. What if heâd finally decided to move on?
Thatâs when you hear it. The soft sounds of a piano from another room. Your head snaps towards it, legs carrying you towards the tune like youâre under the pied pipers spell. And maybe you are.
You push the massive doors open slightly, slipping through and letting it click shut softly behind you. The room is big, with highrise ceilings and massive windows. And there in the center, is a piano. Black and sleek and occupied by a boy with blonde hair and a loose tie.
He doesnât notice you enter which youâre partially grateful for. Heâs too focused gliding his fingers over the keys, playing that damn song.
âLove me harder?â You laugh, soft and warm. âReally?â
His fingers pause their movements, eyes flickering up towards you. He looks shocked for a moment, but it quickly dissipates into something that looks eerily similar to relief.
He chuckles, a small smile working its way onto his lips. âOnly the best song ever made.âÂ
You wet your lips, taking small cautious steps towards him. He watches you the entire time, eyes trailing from your face all the way to your feet. He scoots down the bench swiftly, leaving space for you to take a seat next to him.
You do so hesitantly, your hands falling into your lap and your shoulder brushing his.
âHi,â You breathe out, holding out a hand. âIâm [Y/N].â
He stares at you for a moment, at the hand stretched out in front of him, a silent offering. Something flashes behind his eyes--recognition, maybe. Relief at the thought of starting over.
âHi,â He croaks, eyes glued onto yours. He takes your hand firmly, fingers fitting over your own like they were made just for you. âIâm Heeseung.â
Heeseung. You let the name bounce around in your mind, going over each syllable and committing them to your memory.
âHeeseung,â You murmur, letting it roll on your tongue. âItâs pretty.â
He grins, letting out a breath thatâs bordering on a laugh. âYou think so?â
You nod, squeezing his fingers once. âYeah,â You murmur. âI really do.â
Heeseungs silent for a moment, his eyes glued to where your hands are connected. He clears his throat before bringing your hands down to the keyboard. âDo you know how to play?â He asks.
You shake your head, letting the pads of your fingers run over each key. âNever had the chance to learn.âÂ
He hums, placing his hands over yours. âI could show you,â He offers softly, âIf you wanted.â
Your eyes flicker over to him for a moment before they fall back to your joined hands. His thumbs rub into your knuckles, silent encouragement.
âYeah,â You manage, even though your heart feels like itâs about to tear out of your chest from how hard itâs beating. âIâd like that.â
He smiles, but itâs not the cheeky one youâre used to. Itâs sincere and filled with so much love it nearly makes you melt.
He guides your hands over the piano, pressing down keys and chuckling every time your fingers slip. His cologne floods your senses, clouding every thought in your mind until all you can think about is him.
The way his fingers feel against yours, the way his shoulder stays pressed against you, the way he keeps glancing at you like he canât believe youâre real.Â
He guides you through the song, murmuring praises every time you play a chord correctlyâReally it's just him playing and pretending youâre doing it on your own.
For a moment, the entire world disappears. Itâs just you and the boy youâve absolutely and impossibly fallen in love with, playing piano at the wedding of people you donât even know.
Your breath shudders as the song comes to a stop. He doesn't lift his hands from yours, doesnât back away. It's not until you turn to look at him does he even attempt to shift, and even then all he does lean away from you so he can see your face better.
âIâm sorry,â You start, âFor everything. For making you leave like that. I shouldâveââ
He cuts you off gently, foot nudging yours. âDonât,â He breathes, âDonât do that. You donât need to apologize for needing space.â
God, can he get any more perfect?
You sniffle, nodding once. âRight. I justâŠâ You sigh, eyes diverting from him. âI didnât know what to do when you told me everything. It was a lot to process.â
He nods, encouraging you to continue.
âBut I donât think itâs everything you told me that scared me. I was scared because I-I was starting to fall for you and I didnât know how to let you in after everything happened with you-know-who. And not to mention the fact that I didnât even know your name.â You laugh, shoulders shaking slightly. You finally look at him then, eyes brimming with tears. âBut after you left I knew. I knew that I loved you. That I do love you. And if youâll still have me, I donât want to run from it anymore.â
Heeseungâs silent, eyes searching yours like heâs looking for any bit of hesitance. When he doesnât find it, he lets out a soft groan, head tilting back slightly. He squeezes his eyes shut like he's in actual pain. âDo you know how long Iâve dreamed of hearing you say that?â He mumbles, leaning into your space. You can feel his breath against your lips, his heartbeat against your own. âBeing yours is the only thing Iâve ever wanted.â
You suck in a shaky breath, your eyes darting down to his lips. âHeeseung,â You breathe.
He doesnât hesitate then, surging forward and capturing your lips in a kiss.Â
This one is different from the first one all those months ago. Itâs sweeter, slower. He takes his time memorizing the taste of you, a hand trailing up your arm and cupping your cheek.
You pull away for a second, attempting to get a word out, but he doesnât let you. Instead his lips capture yours again, deeper this time. Your lungs beg for air, but you canât find it in yourself to care. For thisâto keep having him kiss you like youâre the only girl heâs ever seenâyouâd learn how to live without air.
âHeeââ You gasp against his lips, a smile breaking through. âHold onââ
You push against his chest lightly, and he whinesâactually fucking whinesâand his lips chase yours like it hurts him to be away from you.
âHeeseung,â You giggle, âWeâre in public.â
âSo?â He questions, breathless and absolutely flushed. âCan you blame me for wanting to kiss the girl I love?â
Heat rises up your neck, lip tugging between your teeth as you try to hold back your smile.Â
He takes your hand again, pulling you to your feet. âLetâs get out of here then, yeah?â
You barely register the door to his apartment slamming behind you until heâs pushing you against it. His hands find your hips, thumbs digging into the bone but never moving. Never straying beyond respectful.
âYouâre so beautiful,â He mumbles, lips crashing against yours, âNearly fell to my knees when I saw you in this dress.â
You smirk, hands clasping around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. âYeah?â
He chuckles, parting from your lips to rest his forehead against yours. âYeah,â he murmurs. âYou look like a fucking dream.â
Your lips part, a wave of want splashing over you so fast you barely register it. âHeeseung,â You manage, dragging your hands down his chest. âTouch me.â
He immediately shifts, lips pressing against yours and hands dragging up and down your body. He traces your collarbones, lips trailing open mouthed kisses down your jaw and neck. Your eyes flutter closed, hands tangling in his soft hair.
His breath gives when you tug slightly, a groan spilling through his lips. âFuck,â He sighs, lips leaving deep red marks everywhere they touch. Like he's claiming you.
You can feel yourself getting needier, hands grasping onto whatever you can find, hips rolling against nothing.
âHee,â You whine, the nickname slipping out easily. âPlease.â
He hums, digging his hands into the flesh of your hips. âYeah, Baby?â He pecks the side of your jaw, breath fanning against your ear and shooting a shiver down your spine. âIâll give you whatever you want. Just need you to say it.â
You tug on your bottom lip, cheeks flushing. It's not that you were embarrassed, but the way he says it makes you want to scream.
Your chest heaves against his when you bury your hands into the fabric of his shirt, tugging against his already loosening tie. âPlease,â You beg, embarrassment lingering in the tremble in your voice, âI want you to touch me.â
He groans, already leading you into his bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind him swiftly, gently pushing you towards the bed until your knees hit the edge. He guides you down, and your back lands against the sheets with a soft huff, your hair fanning out around you like a halo.
âGonna give you everything you want,â He murmurs above you, kissing your lips sweetly. His hands linger everywhere, from the dip of your shoulder to the curve of your breast, fingertips featherlight. âYou gonna let me, Sweetheart?â He asks.
You nod swiftly, already feeling your underwear grow damp with want. âYes,â You gasp, âFuck, Please.â
He chuckles, sliding the straps of your dress down your shoulders and revealing your bra and tummy. He sucks in a breath at the sight, and then swiftly lowers his lips down to the swell of your chest, leaving open mouthed kisses atop the skin.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he murmurs, âSo perfect.â
You arch your back and allow him to unclip your bra, tossing it onto the floor somewhere. His lips are on you then, kissing and sucking your nipples into his mouth like a man starved. Drool dribbles down his chin and down the curve of your breast, shining against your skin.Â
He makes his way down your sternum, kissing over your ribs, down the soft skin of your stomach, all the way down until his knees hit the floor and he's in between your legs.
He swallows, running his fingers over the silk of your dress covering your legs.
He looks up at you, silently asking for your permission. You give a weak nod of confirmation.Â
His fingers hook into the top half of your dress pooled around your waist and tugs it down softly. It drags down your legs and plops onto the floor, leaving you in just your underwear.
The air is thick with tension when he comes face to face with the lace covering your folds, eyes zeroed in on the growing damp patch between your legs.
âFuck,â He groans, breathless. His cheeks are flushed, pupils blown so wide his eyes are nearly black. âYouâre perfect.â
His lips find your inner thigh, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses over the skin, all the way down your calf, and over the hard bone of your ankle. He does the same on the other side, taking his time worshipping you like youâre his personal deity.
âHee,â You whine, hips rolling against nothing, âDonât tease me.â
He chuckles, his hands running up your thighs before finding purchase against your hips. He doesnât hold you roughly, but thereâs enough intention behind it to keep you in place.
âJust wanna worship you, baby.â He hums, nudging his nose against the crease of your pelvis, âYouâre so fucking perfect.â
You roll your eyes, but heat crawls up your neck anyway. âSo youâve said.â
He taps a finger against your hip bone teasingly, lips widening into a cunning grin, like he knows exactly what he does to you. And, honestly, he probably does. âDreamed about how youâd taste, the sounds youâd make. â He murmurs, tongue jutting out slightly to wet his kiss-swollen lips. âYou gonna let me make you feel good, baby?â He asks.
âYes,â You gasp out, âGod, yes.â
It doesnât take much after that.
He starts slowly, giving small kitten licks over your panties. You let out a sigh, hands tangling in the sheets and teeth tugging on your bottom lip.Â
Itâs not messy. Itâs not rough. Itâs sweet and slow, like heâs taking the time to figure out what makes you keen and buck your hips into his mouth.
He finds a soft rhythm, licking into you until the thin border covering your folds gleams with a mix of his saliva and your slick. His nose bumps against your clit, earning a whine from you every time it happens.Â
He curls his fingers into the waistline of your panties, dragging them down your hips and tossing them onto the floor. The cool air brushes against your slick folds, making you shiver.
Heeseung pauses for a moment, gazing at your sex like heâs committing it to memory. Embarrassment clouds your mind at being stared at like this, like youâre a piece of art heâd pay millions to have.Â
He sucks in a shaky breath, lips glistening with your slick. âI know Iâve already said it,â He mumbles, dragging a hand down your tummy and letting his thumb brush over your clit. âBut youâre beautiful. Prettiest pussy Iâve ever seen.â
He emphasizes your words with a long lick up your folds, tongue flat against your hole. Your back arches off the bed, a whimper sliding out of you without your permission.
Your hands fly to his hair as he eats you out like a man starved, his tongue swirling around your clit.Â
âFuck!â You whine, âFuckâyes! Donât stop!â You sob out, tugging at his roots. He groans at the feeling, the vibration buzzing against your clit in a way that actually makes your thighs shake.
His lips wrap around your clit then, sucking it into his mouth and lapping his tongue against it. You let out a broken moan, back bowing off the bed. But he presses a hand firmly on your stomach to keep you in place.
He continues, soft then fast, pace fluctuating like he canât decide whether he wants to take his time. Your thighs shake as you get closer, chest heaving and moans slipping from your mouth like prayers.
You jolt when he prods a finger at your entrance, teasing you slowly before pushing inside. The stretch is goodâand when he curls it just right you swear you see stars. Your eyes fill with tears the closer you get, the coil in your stomach tightening to unbearable levels.
âF-fuckâCloseââ You manage to gasp.
He hums against you, then adds another finger. You let out a high-pitched whine as he does, hips rolling against his mouth and hand, body completely lost to the pleasure.
He fucks his fingers in and out of you gently, constantly curling right against your g-spot in a way that should be illegal.Â
âCanât believe you ever let him taste you,â He says, voice slightly muffled against your pussy. âBet he couldnât even make you cum, huh?â
Youâre too far gone to form a reply. All you can think about is Heeseung and how close you are to release.
But he doesnât seem to want a reply from you. Instead, he licks a broad stripe up your clit, and itâs enough to finally break you.
You cum with a sob, fingers tightening in his hair and thighs tightening around his head. Your vision goes white for a moment as he laps up your release like a dog receiving a treat from its owner.
He fucks you through it, mumbling soft praises the entire time. Itâs not until youâre crying from overstimulation and pushing his head away does he come up for air. And when he does, you swear you nearly cum all over again.
His hair is a disaster, sticking up in places and curling against his forehead. His eyes are lidded and his pupils are blown out, while slick mixed with saliva glistens across his nose, lips, and jaw. He looks like pure sex and every secret fantasy youâve ever dared to have.
You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, pulling him up gently until heâs situated atop you again. You kiss him hard and messy, tasting yourself on his tongue. He nips at your bottom lip, requesting access, and you grant it easily.
He swirls his tongue in your mouth, hands gripping your hips and rolling them against the growing bulge in your pants. You gasp when you feel himâthick and hard and already drooling with pre-cum.
He groans when you roll your hips experimentally, his lips parting in a pant and forehead resting against yours. âFuck, if you keep doing thatâŠâ He trails off, eyebrows knitting together.
You grin, wrapping your hands around the tie hanging off of his neck and tugging it off. He seems to get the idea and quickly rids himself of his shirt and pants, leaving him in just his boxers.
You swallow at the obvious bulge, a wet patch of pre-cum practically dripping against the fabric. He gasps when you hand experimentally brushes over it, his eyes falling shut.Â
You carefully palm him, watching how his face contorts in pleasure. âFuckâwaitâyouâre gonna make me cum like this.â He mutters, reaching down and pulling your wrist away and over your head.
He uses his freehand to push his boxers off, revealing his flushed cock to you. Your mouth practically waters at the sight of itâthick and flushed and oh, so pretty.
He sucks in a shaky breath before lining himself up with your entrance, his lips brushing yours as he does. He kisses you as he enters, swallowing every broken whine and whimper that escapes from your mouth.
Heâs bigâbigger than anything youâve ever taken, at least. The head of his cock stretches you deliciously, nudging against your walls and carving a place for himself.Â
âYou feel so fucking good,â He whimpers against your lips, the hand holding your wrist shifting so he can intertwine his fingers with yours. He squeezes your hand three times as he bottoms out, and your eyebrows furrow at how deep he is.
Heâs resting right against your g-spot, putting continuous pressure onto it until youâre certain you see stars. He doesn't move inside you, letting you adjust to the feeling, but you can tell heâs holding back.
âHee-Heeseung,â You attempt, using your free hand to paw at his chest. âPlease move.â
His breath hitches, burying his face into the crook of your neck. And then heâs rutting into you slowly, broken gasps leaving his kiss-stricken lips.
You squeeze his hand, lips forming into an âOâ as he rocks into you with a perfect rhythm. Itâs not too rough, not too fastâjust enough to drive you fucking crazy. Enough to ensure you feel every vein and every ridge of his cock inside you.
âI love you,â He whines into your skin, leaving dark marks around the curve of your neck, the line of your jaw, the swell of your breasts. Anywhere he can reach. âLove that youâre letting me touch you like this. Love you so much itâs fucking painful.â
A groan rumbles deep in his chest when you roll your hips to meet his. âYou like that?â He asks, âLike knowing how crazy you drive me?â
You try to reply, but all that comes out is a broken sob. He picks up the pace now, slamming into you with a rhythm that rivals anything youâve had before.
âYeah, you do,â He teases softly, âDonât worry. Gonna remind you every fucking day.â
You tighten around him instinctively, walls attempting to milk him for everything heâs worth. His hips falter at the feeling, sweat beginning to stick to his forehead.
He fucks you like a man starved, like heâs angry at you for keeping this from him. Tears of pleasure streak your cheeks, each one he kisses away without a word.Â
The entire thing is too much, too good, and before you know it youâre tightening around him and cumming harder than you ever have in your life.
âThere you go, baby,â He gasps, reaching his freehand down to rub light circles against your clit. âSuch a good girl for me.â
He fucks you through the orgasm, enjoying every keen and whine you give him, until heâs releasing inside you himself. His cum fills you in hot spurts, painting your hole a creamy white.
He collapses atop you, chest heaving against yours. It takes a moment for the both of you to collect yourselves, but once you do heâs pulling out gently, whispering apologies when you twitch from overstimulation.
He leans over to grab a cloth from the bedside table, kneeling between your thighs and cleaning you softly. He leaves lingering kisses on the inside of your thighs as he does, like heâs thanking you for letting him touch you.
When heâs finished he crawls into bed beside you, staring at your face with a dopey smile.Â
You raise a brow and let out a confused giggle. âWhat?âÂ
He shrugs, shaking his head softly. âJust canât believe Iâm so lucky.â He mumbles, leaning in and kissing you softly. You kiss him back easily, hand coming up to cup his cheek.
And itâs then that you think that maybe, just maybe, things were always meant to play out this way.
Maybe, just maybe, that wedding invitation was the best thing that ever happened to you.
And maybe, just maybe, one day you'd be able to send out your own.
wowwowo sheâs done!!
this was my first time writing smut so if itâs bad pls forgive me đ
reblogs are really appreciated and i love to hear from you guys!
HE'S USED TO GIRLS CRUMBLING.
Tears, trembling legs, desperate little begs while he spits filth and breaks them apart with every brutal thrust. But you?
You moan softly, laugh breathily, and throw his own dirty talk right back in his pretty face like itâs a game.
And maybe? It is.
Game on, pretty boy. You just met your match.
pairing: fuckboy!jungwon x reader !
warnings: strong language alcohol power imbalance toxic relationship one night stand porn with little plot
warnings (smut): jungwon's a dick he's exactly what men shouldn't be. Power imbalance degradation dirty talk humiliation manipulation mindfuck toxicness toxic masculinity unprotected sex (no!) semi-public sex risk of getting caught creampie choking doggy style no romance no feelings one night stand meandom!jungwon harddom!jungwon rough sex
playlist: Often by The Weeknd [] Into It by Chase Atlantic [] Starboy (feat. daft punk) by The Weeknd [] Nine Inch Nails by Closer []
likes and reblogs for a cookie!
â WORD COUNT: 2K !
(Masterlist)
Yang Jungwon is the kind of fuckboy who makes a girl regret wanting him the second heâs done with her.
Heâs got that angelic face, soft doe eyes, pretty lips, dimples that appear when he smirks like he already knows heâs about to ruin you. But the moment the door closes and clothes hit the floor, the mask drops. Jungwon fucks like he hates you. Brutal, mean, and terrifyingly good at it.
He doesnât do slow or sweet. He pins you down with one hand around your throat, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, and pounds into you like heâs trying to break something inside. Deep, punishing strokes that make your eyes water and your voice crack. Heâll pull your hair, slap your ass, spit in your mouth, and call you the filthiest names while heâs buried balls-deep, laughing low and cruel when you sob his name like a prayer.
He always makes you cum, multiple times, actually, because he gets off on watching you fall apart for him. But the second he finishes (usually down your throat or painted across your face), the switch flips.
He pulls out, wipes himself off like youâre nothing, and tosses you your clothes.
âGet dressed.â
If you try to linger, if you even breathe the word âagainâ or âstay,â his expression goes ice-cold. Those pretty eyes turn dead.
âI told you before we started, this is it. One time. I donât do seconds. I donât date. I donât cuddle. I donât give a fuck about your feelings.â
And if you cry? If you beg or ask why heâs so cruel?
He just laughs, low and mocking, while he lights a cigarette or checks his phone.
âCrying already? Pathetic. You knew what this was. You spread your legs for me anyway. Now stop embarrassing yourself and get the fuck out. Donât ever text me again thinking Iâll wet my dick with the same pussy twice. Whatâs done is done.â
Heâs merciless. No soft aftercare. No fake promises. Just the brutal truth: you were a hole for the night, and now youâre disposable.
The girls always leave in tears, mascara running, thighs still shaking, heart shattered, because Jungwon doesnât just fuck your body. He fucks with your head too, making you feel like the most desired girl in the world for thirty minutes and then like absolute garbage the moment heâs finished.
And the worst part? He never feels bad about it. Not even a little. Because Yang Jungwon doesnât catch feelings.
He only catches new pussy.
And the moment Jungwon lays his eyes on you during Heeseungâs party? You know youâre in for something good tonight.Â
The bathroom door is barely locked, the bass from the party still thumping through the walls like a second heartbeat. Jungwon has you folded in half on the marble counter, your back pressed against the cold mirror, knees pushed all the way to your chest, ankles hooked over his shoulders. Your dress is bunched uselessly around your waist, panties ripped and dangling from one ankle.
Heâs pounding into you with brutal, deep strokes, hips snapping hard enough that the sound of skin slapping skin echoes louder than the music outside. His cock is thick, veiny, stretching you open with every punishing thrust, the head dragging against that spot that makes your toes curl.
Jungwonâs hand is wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur at the edges. His pretty face is twisted into that signature smirk, sweat dripping from his dark hair onto your tits.
âFuck, youâre tight,â he growls, slamming in particularly hard, watching your pussy swallow every inch. âSuch a dirty little slut, letting me bend you like this in someone elseâs bathroom. Bet you let anyone who looks at you twice wreck this cunt, huh?â
He expects the usual, whimpering, begging, tears already forming because heâs being so mean, so rough.
But you only let out a soft, breathy âAhâfuckâŠâ when he angles his hips just right and grinds against your clit with every thrust. Your eyes stay half-lidded, lips parted, but thereâs no sobbing. No pleading.
Instead, when he calls you a slut again, you bite back with a sharp little laugh that turns into a moan.
âSlut? Says the guy who dragged a stranger into the bathroom because he couldnât keep his dick in his pants for thirty minutes,â you shoot back, voice surprisingly steady despite how deep heâs buried. Your walls flutter around him on purpose, clenching tight just to watch his smirk falter for half a second. âIf Iâm such a slut, whyâs your cock twitching like itâs never felt a pussy this good before?â
Jungwonâs eyes narrow. That wasnât the reaction he wanted. He pulls almost all the way out and slams back in with vicious force, the counter creaking under you. His grip on your throat tightens as he leans in closer, lips brushing your ear.
âKeep talking shit and Iâll fuck that attitude right out of you,â he hisses, picking up the pace, brutally drilling into you so your body jolts with every thrust. âYouâre supposed to be crying by now, begging me not to stop like every other pathetic girl. What the fuck is wrong with you?â
Another sharp thrust. Another soft, sweet âAhhâŠâ from you when he hits that perfect angle again, nothing more.
You tilt your head back against the mirror, eyes locking with his, a teasing smirk of your own playing on your lips even as your pussy drips around his cock.
âWrong with me?â you gasp between thrusts, still sounding far too composed. âNothing. I just donât cry for boys who think being an asshole makes them special. Now shut up and fuck me properly if you can, Jungwon. Or are you all bite no bark?â
His jaw clenches. The pretty fuckboy who always makes girls break is suddenly the one thrown off. He doesnât like it.
And he definitely doesnât like how much his cock throbs harder at your sharp tongue.
Jungwon pulls out suddenly, flips you around like you weigh nothing, and bends you over the sink instead, face pressed to the mirror, ass up, back arched deep. He kicks your legs wider and drives back into you in one brutal thrust, one hand fisting your hair, the other slapping your ass hard enough to leave a mark.
âFine,â he snarls, voice low and dangerous as he starts railing you even harder from behind. âLetâs see how long that pretty mouth stays smart when Iâm done with you.â
Your only response is another soft, pleased âAhâŠâ as he hits even deeper, followed by a breathy, defiant little chuckle.
Game on, Yang Jungwon.Â
The slap of skin on skin is filthy and loud in the small bathroom, almost drowning out the muffled party music outside.
Jungwon has you bent over the sink now, one hand fisted tight in your hair, the other gripping your hip so hard his fingers are going to leave bruises. Heâs fucking you with vicious, deep strokes, fast, mean, relentless. Every time he bottoms out, the head of his cock bullies against that spot that makes your pussy flutter and drip.
Youâve been taking it like itâs nothing. Soft little âahâs and sharp comments. No tears. No begging. Until suddenly your walls clamp down hard around him.
A low, shaky moan slips from your lips as you cream all over his cock, warm, slick, pulsing, your pussy gushing and squeezing him in tight, rhythmic waves. The feeling is so fucking good it rips a guttural groan out of Jungwonâs throat before he can stop it.
âFuckâshitââ
He canât hold back. His hips stutter once, twice, then he buries himself to the hilt and cums hard inside you. Thick, hot ropes of cum flood your pussy in smooth, pulsing spurts, painting your walls white while your own orgasm milks every last drop out of him.
For a few seconds the only sounds are heavy breathing and the wet, obscene sound of his cock still twitching inside your cunt.
Then, just like always, the switch flips.
Jungwon pulls out in one quick motion, his cum already starting to leak down your thighs. He doesnât say a word. Doesnât look at you. Just turns, grabs his pants from the floor, and starts pulling them on like youâre already forgotten.
Heâs waiting for it. The usual pathetic whimpering.
The âmy legs donât workâŠâ Â
The teary âcan you help me get dressed?â Â
The last girl literally begged him to carry her out of the bathroom like some princess.
Heâs ready to laugh in your face and tell you to crawl if you have to. But you donât.
You straighten up slowly, legs steady, thighs glistening with his cum and your own mess. Without a single wobble you reach for your dress, pull it back down, and smooth it over your hips like nothing happened. You even bend over casually to fix your heels, ass still out, his cum dripping down your leg, and you donât even flinch.
Then you turn to the mirror, fix your hair with quick fingers, and wipe a smudge of lipstick from the corner of your mouth.
Jungwon freezes mid-zip, staring at you. Youâre walking perfectly fine. No shaking legs. No clinging to the counter for support. No teary eyes or whiny voice asking for help.
You just look⊠unbothered. Satisfied, even. Like he was just a decent workout and nothing more. His blood boils instantly.
The man who always leaves girls ruined and crying is suddenly the one whose jaw is tight, eyes dark with irritation.
He steps closer, voice low and sharp. ââŠThe fuck is this?â Â
He gestures at you, standing there steady on your own two feet, already looking put-together while his cum is still leaking out of you. âYouâre not even limping? Not gonna cry and beg me to carry your useless ass out of here like the last pathetic bitch?â
You glance at him through the mirror, one eyebrow raised, a small, amused smirk tugging at your lips.
âWhy would I?â you say lightly, voice still a little breathy but perfectly calm. âIt was a good fuck, Jungwon. Not life-changing. My legs work just fine.â
You turn to face him fully, adjusting the strap of your dress like youâre getting ready to walk back into the party.
âBesides⊠youâre the one who said âwhatâs done is done,â right? So Iâm done. Thanks for the dick.â You reach for the door handle.
Jungwonâs hand slams against the door before you can open it, trapping you there. His chest is almost pressed to your back, breath hot against your ear. He looks pissed. Actually pissed.
âYouâre really just gonna walk out like that?â His voice is dangerously quiet. âActing like I didnât just fuck you stupid and fill you up?â
You tilt your head slightly, still calm, still unfazed. âYeah. I am.â A soft chuckle leaves you. âWhat, did I bruise your precious ego because Iâm not on the floor crying for you? Poor baby.â
His grip on the door tightens, knuckles white. He hates how much he suddenly wants to bend you over again and fuck you until you canât walk straight for a week.
He really, really hates it. Your hand gently pushes his arm away from the door.
âMove. I have a party to get back to.â Jungwon doesnât move right away. His eyes are burning into you, something dark and new flickering behind that usual cold smirk.
For the first time in a long timeâŠÂ Yang Jungwon doesnât know what the fuck to do with a girl who just walked away from him like he was average. And itâs making him furious. You wink at him one last time as you push the door open, pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek, mocking. Had it been anyone else, heâd have pushed them off of himself and wiped his face in disgust, but he didnât to you, he couldnât.
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i do not support all engenes. some of you getting excited at these tour dates just tells me exactly what yâall are thinking.
1) âthis is their last concert before they disband!â
and tell me why that is.. tell me why do you think theyâre not going to renew their contracts? donât you think itâs because of the mistreatment and constant shit beliftâs putting them throughâitâs no oneâs fault but the companies and now when itâs on us to say something, we fall right into their trap.
you guys make no fucking sense omfg
2) âboycotting wonât do anything meaningfulâ
so we should just empty our wallets at beliftâs beck and call? just because youâre negative and believe that ot7 engeneâs efforts are useless, you see no problem in handing money over to belift???? please.
3) âi want to support the remaining membersâ
funding their overworked schedule and lack of proper rest is not called supporting them. all your money goes directly to the company that wants to milk them for all they have.
itâs like you guys donât remember fate plus at all. how won said they felt like they were going to DIE, jake literally GRIMACING on stage with tears down his face. not to mention riki not being able to see his family, and many other incidents that i donât mention. imagine what the fuck is going on behind the cameras, thanks to YOUR money and YOUR financial support.
what more will it take for you all to see that this company is evil? will someone have to die? collapse? get severely injured? because even if that happened tomorrow, i bet yâall will be talking about âwhen will belift release more tour stopsâ. you guys have no spine and it sickens me.
unfollow me if youâre going to that fucking tour. i genuinely cannot believe some of my mutuals think that is okay or acceptable. i understand that belift will continue mistreating their idols regardless if you give them money or not, but do you really think that it matters?
this isnât even just about kpop. if youâre so excited to give money to an inhumane company like BELIFT, you donât deserve to say youâre an engene. you only see enhypen as tools for your entertainment, and as long as you get your moneyâs worth, itâs fine right? as long as they sing and dance for you, itâs okay!
please wake the fuck up
edit: https://www.tumblr.com/kissued/812723544708579328/oh-and-another-thing-just-because-the-boys-say two things can be true at once by the way! please read before you comment some bs on my phone
đđšđ§âđ đ„đđđŻđ đđ đđąđ§. â heeseung lee oneshot.
summary. You spend your 20s exactly how you planned it to beâfun, fearless, and unattached. Until your mom introduces you to her old high school friendâs son, who looks exactly like the man you spent one reckless night in another city convincing yourself youâd never see again.
pairing. heeseung x fem!reader
content / warnings. one night stand (flashback, brief), producer!hee, unemployed!reader, the moms are in this, one mention of jungwon, maeumi, nicknames!, protected p in v, oral (fem rec.), fingering, riding, nipple play, lmk if i miss anything xx
w.c. 14k
JUNE 2025
âMy headâs throbbing.â
You mutter as you drive to your parents house. Your mom mentioned about inviting her old friend over, who lived across the country, in another city saying something about her staying over for a few days.
You sigh at the thought, blaming the pounding in your skull on last nightâs cocktails with your girl friends and the tiny hairs still sticking to your damp shirt from a morning shower. Youâre not ready for polite family small talk, questions about your job or relationshipâor the endless commentary about how âyou should really be settling down.â
You pull over your parentsâ street, already noticing a whole luggage outside the house.
âSeems like sheâs here.â You mutter to yourself, as you got out the car, quickly looking at the mirror to make yourself presentable, and totally not hangover.
Grabbing your bag, you try to summon your most convincing âIâm totally togetherâ expression. If your momâs friend was anything like she described, this was going to be a lot of chatter, a lot of smiles, and probably a few pointed questions about your love life that you werenât ready to answer.
You knock on the door. âIâm home!â you annouce, and almost immediately, you hear your momâs footsteps scampering over to open it. You chuckle at her cutenessâalways so excited to see you, even when you barely had your life together.
âFinally!â she exclaimes, practically dragging you inside. âYouâre just in timeâsheâs already here!â
You groan inwardly, bracing yourself for endless small talk and awkward introductions, but couldnât help smiling at your momâs enthusiasm.
When you came inside the house, in the living room, a middle-aged ladyâseemingly the same age as your momâsits on the couch, her posture polite but relaxed. She looks around with a warm smile that could make anyone feel immediately welcome, though your hungover brain mostly registered her as an interruption to your carefully curated morning recovery.
âShe must be Mrs. Lee,â you say, glancing at your mom, who was practically glowing with excitement. You couldnât help but grin despite yourselfâyour mom always had a way of lighting up a room, and apparently, it was contagious.
âOh, my, she had grown up to be such a fine young lady!â Mrs. Lee greets with a smile, hugging you warmly.
You return the hug with a polite squeeze, your head still pounding from last night and your brain screaming too early for this kind of energy. âThank you,â you mutter, secretly hoping your slightly messy hair and damp shirt werenât too obvious.
âIâve been telling her so much about you!â your mom chimes in, practically beaming. âAll good things, of course.â
You smile faintly, wondering exactly how much she had told her friend about your chaotic, fun-filled nights out with friendsâand mentally prepare yourself for a gentle roasting session disguised as small talk.
But Mrs. Lee just look at you softly, a motherly smile plastered on her face, as if she could see right through all the bravado you were trying to put on. It was the kind of smile that made you feel both warm and a little⊠exposed.
âWhat about your boy, Lee?â Your mom asks and Mrs. Lee claps her hands as if remembering a completely important detail.
âRight, right!â She laughs. âI told him to buy us some fruits at the supermarket! We canât stay here and come empty-handed.â She smiles, in which your mom joking hits her arm. âWhat a hassle! But, thank you anyway,â
Mrs. Lee looks over to you. âI feel like you and my son could be such good friends too!â She grins, in which you awkwardly smile.
Great.
Another one of your momâs friends trying to set you up with their good-for-nothing sons.
âHoney, help her get her luggage inside!â Your mom says, walking to the kitchen, already arms in arms with Mrs. Lee. You nod before walking towards the entrance.
Thatâs when you heard a car pull up outside.
The sound of tires against the pavement cut through the room, followed by the soft thud of a door closing. Your mom glanced toward the window almost instinctively, her face lighting up even more than before.
âOh, perfect timing,â you can hear Mrs. Leeâs voice from inside. âThat must be Heeseung!â
You decide to pay no mind to it, as you walked over to carry her luggage.
âShit, what does she pack in here?â
âClothes enough for two weeks.â A voice answers your little mutter to yourself.
A familiar oneâdeep, oh so soft, and far too recognizableâmaking your breath hitch as you stand straight.
âDo you feel good? Am I making you feel good?â
âLet go for me, baby.â
Your mind suddenly betrayed you, replaying the words spoken in that same voice two months agoâback when youâd been careless, impulsive, and not so smart.
Heat rushed to your face as the memory collided with this current moment. You turn to look and there he was, still wearing the soft eyes you had been so enchanted by that night.
Evan. Evan Lee. At least thatâs what he introduced himself as.
The same eyes that had studied you under dim hotel lights now widened, just barely, before masking it with something polite and unreadable.
Mrs. Lee came out before you could even say anything, her voice bright and proud as she introduced you. You barely registered the words, too focused on the way he straightened beside her.
He nodded, polite and distant, the kind of courtesy reserved for strangers. âNice to meet you,â he said smoothly, without a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
Then he smiledâeasy, effortlessâbefore turning to follow his mom into the house. He picked up her luggage, handling it with practiced care as he walked past you, close enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne.
He didnât even glance back.
So he didnât remember.
You had both been drunk that night, after all.
âŠ
Dinner is already laid out by the time everyone gathers around the dining table a few hours later. The familiar smell of your momâs cooking fills the roomâwarm, comforting, painfully normal for a moment that feels anything but.
You take a seat near the edge of the table, choosing distance over comfort. Across from you, Heeseung pulls out his chair and sits down smoothly, posture relaxed, expression polite. To anyone else, heâs just a guestâyour momâs friendâs son, well-mannered and quiet.
To you, heâs the man whose voice still lingers in the back of your mindâwhose hands had memorized you in the dark, whose lips had left impressions you were foolish enough to think time would erase.
Conversation flows easily between your mom and Mrs. Lee, laughter spilling over shared memories from high school, old teachers, stories youâve heard a hundred times before. You nod at the right moments, pushing food around your plate, forcing yourself to eat despite the tight knot in your stomach.
âSo, Heeseung,â your mom says brightly, turning to him, âAre you okay with the spare room? Her brother hasnât been home since his marriage, and she doesnât want to give her childhood room for guests,â Your mom turns to you and snickers.
âThatâs because I visit you and dad all the time, I still need a room here.â You groan softly, while Mrs. Lee laughs.
âYes, maâam. The room is just nice. Very well-kept.â Heeseung smiles at her.
âWell, thatâs good,â she continues. âBy the way, you two are around the same age. You should show him around a bit, donât you think? This isnât a city he always comes by.â
Your grip tightens around your utensils.
Before you can answer, Heeseung looks upâbriefly, carefullyâmeeting your eyes for the first time since earlier. Thereâs no recognition on his face. No spark. Just polite interest.
âIf sheâs free,â he says simply.
If youâre free.
You force a smile. âYeah. Maybe.â
The lie settles between you, heavy and unspoken.
Under the table, his foot shifts slightlyâclose enough to make your breath hitch, close enough to make you wonder if itâs accidental. He still doesnât look at you. Still doesnât acknowledge the past.
But your body remembers a different name.
And for the first time since he walked past you without a second glance, you realize something unsettling.
Heeseung might not remember you.
But Evan would have.
After dinner, the house settles into silence faster than you expect.
Laughter fades. Doors close softly. The hallway light dims until only a thin strip glows beneath bedroom doors. You lie awake longer than you should, staring at the ceiling youâve known your whole life, listening to the unfamiliar rhythm of another presence in the house.
You tell yourself itâs nothing.
Just an old insignificant memory overstaying its welcome.
Eventually, thirst wins.
You slip out of bed, careful not to let the floorboards creak, padding your way toward the kitchen. The house smells faintly of detergent and leftover dinner, comforting in a way that almost makes you forget why your chest feels tight.
Almost.
The kitchen light is already on.
You freeze in the doorway.
Heeseung stands by the counter, sleeves rolled up, a glass of water in his hand. His hair is slightly tousled now, stripped of the careful neatness he wore earlier. He looks⊠different. More real. More like the man you left sleeping behind hotel curtains two months ago.
He looks up when he hears you.
âOh,â he says quietly. âSorry. Didnât mean to wake anyone.â
âYou didnât,â you reply, voice steadier than you feel. âI justâcouldnât sleep.â
He nods, accepting that without question. No tension. No recognition. Or maybe too much control to show either.
You grab a glass from the cupboard, deliberately choosing the one farthest from him. The tap runs. Too loud in the silence. You focus on the sound, on anything but the awareness of him standing only a few feet away.
âYour momâs cooking was really good,â he says after a moment. âShe didnât exaggerate.â
You let out a small breath of a laugh. âShe always does that.â
A pause.
Then, softer, almost absent-minded: âYou mentioned earlier you donât live here?â
âNot anymore,â you answer. âI moved to my own apartment a year ago.â
âOh,â he says.
The word hangs between you.
You take a sip of water, finally glancing at him. He isnât looking at youâhis attention fixed on the counter, jaw relaxed, expression unreadable. If he remembers, he gives nothing away. If he doesnât, then this ease is genuine.
You hate that you canât tell which one hurts more.
âWell,â you murmur, setting the glass down. âGood night.â
He looks up then, meeting your eyes fully for the first time since dinner.
âGood night,â he says.
Still nothing. No crack in his voice. No hesitation. Just calm, polite distance.
You walk past him toward the hallway, careful not to brush his arm, careful not to slow your steps. Behind you, you hear him turn off the light.
In the darkness of your room, you lie awake againâheart louder now, thoughts sharper.
You were the one who left that morning.
You were the one who chose silence.
And yet somehow, standing in your parentâs kitchen, it feels like heâs the one holding all the control.
âŠ
Morning comes too soon.
Sunlight filters through the curtains, thin and pale, landing across your face like an accusation. For a moment, you forget where you areâuntil the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen reminds you that youâre back in your parentsâ house. And that you arenât alone.
You sit up slowly, rubbing at your temples. The night had offered no answers. Just silence, politeness, and the unbearable calm of not knowing.
By the time you make it to the kitchen, your mom is already bustling around, apron tied, hair pulled back. Mrs. Lee sits at the table, sipping tea, looking far too refreshed for someone who traveled across the country.
âMorning,â your mom chirps when she sees you. âPerfect timing.â
You hum in response, reaching for a glass of water.
âCould you help Mrs. Yang walk her dog later?â she continues casually. âYou rememberânext door. You used to do it all the time when you lived here. Besides, litte Jungwon is in Uni now, so no one is there to help her.â
You pause.
âMaeum? Yeah,â you say. âI can do that.â
Mrs. Leeâs face lights up. âWalking outside right now would be so refreshing,â she says warmly. Then, almost as an afterthought, she turns toward the hallway. âHeeseung!â
Your stomach tightens at the sound of his name.
He appears a moment later, sleeves rolled up again, hair still slightly damp like heâs just washed his face. He looks⊠awake. Calm. Completely unaffected. âHm?â
âYou should go with her,â Mrs. Lee says easily. âItâll be good for you to get some fresh air after traveling.â
Heeseung blinks once, then nods. âSure.â
Sure.
Your mom smiles, clearly pleased. âPerfect! Two birds with one stone.â You force a smile of your own, even as your pulse starts to pick up. âYeah. No problem.â
Heeseung glances at youânot searching, not curious. Just attentive.
âWhenever youâre ready,â he says.
As you step outside together a few minutes later, the morning air feels too crisp, too quiet. The street looks the same as it always has. Familiar. Safe.
And yet, walking side by side with him, youâre painfully aware of the space between youâand how little it would take to close it.
Youâre the one who left. Itâs a one-night stand.
You remind yourself of that as you head toward the neighborâs gate.
So why does it feel like this walk might be the first step toward something you canât walk away from again.
Heeseung kneels slightly as Maeum charges toward him, tail wagging like it could knock him over.
âHeâs⊠lively,â he says, keeping his voice casual as Maeum circles him, sniffing, then jumping up in excitement. A low chuckle escapes him, and you feel your chest tighten unexpectedly.
âYeah, Maeumâs a handful,â you reply, gripping the leash before he decides to chase a squirrel or something worse. âBut heâs harmless⊠mostly.â
Heeseung brushes a hand along Maeumâs back. âMostly is good.â
Maeum barks happily, spinning between the two of you. Thereâs a brief moment where the dog seems to notice the tension radiating off both of you, but of course, he canât name it.
âShall we get going?â you ask, starting toward the sidewalk.
Heeseung falls into step beside you, careful not to crowd, careful not to overstep. Close enough to notice the little things: the way you tense when Maeum yanks, the faint crease in your brow, the subtle sway of your hair in the morning sun.
The street is quiet. Early birds call from the trees. Leaves rustle under your shoes. Maeum dashes ahead, then back, sniffing everything in sight.
âSoâŠâ you begin, trying to sound casual, âlong drive yesterday?â
He shrugs. âEnough to make me remember why I prefer flights.â
You laugh softly. âFair enough. It is kind of chaos on the road here sometimes.â
Silence falls for a few steps, filled only with Maeumâs padding and your own heartbeat.
Then Maeum stops abruptly, sniffing at a patch of grass right between you and Heeseung. The leash jerks. You stumble forward slightly, and his hand reaches out before you can think, steadying you.
Fingertips brush.
A fleeting touchâbut itâs enough. Enough to spark memory, enough to make your stomach twist.
Heeseung doesnât flinch. He doesnât say a word. He takes Maeumâs leash and keeps walking.
And thatâs the worst part.
Because whether he remembersâor is pretendingâyou have no idea.
And it leaves the quiet hanging between you like a question that refuses to be answered.
Maeum slows near the corner, distracted by something only he seems to find interesting. You stop with him, shifting your weight as you wait.
Your fingers curl in on themselves without you noticing.
A slow fist.
Tight enough that your nails press into your palm.
Heeseungâs gaze drops.
Not immediately. Not obviously.
But it lingers just long enough.
âYou do that often,â he says.
You look up. âDo what?â
He nods toward your hand. âThat.â
You follow his eyes, startled, and force your fingers open. Faint crescent marks bloom red against your skin.
âOh,â you say lightly. âI guess I clench my hand when Iâm waiting.â
âOr when youâre holding back,â he replies, tone even. Too even.
The street feels quieter suddenly.
You laugh, trying to brush it off. âYouâre very observant.â He doesnât smile. Not quite.
âHard not to notice,â he says.
And just like thatâ
Your mind betrays you.
Dim light. Your back against unfamiliar sheets.
His voice low, close, asking something you canât quite remember the words toâonly the way your hand had curled then too, nails biting into your palm as you nodded instead of answering.
You remember looking down afterward.
The half-moon marks.
The way heâd gently pried your fingers open, thumb brushing over the indents like he was committing them to memory.
The leash tugs.
You blink, pulled back into the morning air, the quiet street, Maeum wagging his tail impatiently.
Heeseung is already looking ahead again, expression unreadable.
âYou good?â he asks, as if nothing had happened.
You nod, heart racing, and start walking again.
But your palm still tingles.
Both of you continue walking with Maeum tugging on his leash once in a while, before stopping infront of a convenient store near the park.
âIâll buy us drinks, anything you like?â He asks. You look at him as you shake your head. âAnythingâs fine.â
He nods, entering the store while you wait outside while Maeum settles at your feet. Through the glass, you watch him move with easy familiarityâ scanning the shelves without hesitation.
He came out a few minutes later with two drinks in his hand. Americano for him, and another for you.
Green Grape Ade.
âGreen Grape Ade?â His voice rings in the loud bar music, looking at you with precise judgement, while you mockingly glare at him.
âWhatâs wrong with it?â You ask, voice slightly loud trying to drown out the music at the bar. He smiles.
âYouâre original.â He clinks his glass againts yours, the ice chiming softly over the music.
âI just prefer sour drinks. Especially from the convenient store.â You drink as your gaze turn to him. Heâs already staring at you.
He hums. âThatâs why your face so sour?â He teases in which you gasp, mock-offense.
He laughs, before shaking his head. âThat was a lie. You might just be the sweetest girl Iâve ever met.â
The memory fades as quickly as it came.
Youâre back outside the convenience store, the morning air cool against your skin. The bottle in your hand is cold, condensation slick against your fingers.
Heeseung is already walking ahead with Maeum, Americano in hand, posture relaxed like he hasnât just reached into something you never gave him permission to keep.
You take a sip. It tastes exactly how you like it. How you were imagining it when you were admant on telling Heeseung or Evan it was your favourite at the bar.
And for the first time since you woke up that morning, you wonder if leaving first had really meant leaving anything behind at all.
You catch up to them, glancing at Heeseung. He has a questionable smug look on his face.
âWhat?â You ask. He shrugs before looking at you.
âI have a lot of things I remember about you.â
âŠ
A few hours pass.
The afternoon drifts by slowly, measured in the ticking of the clock and the occasional sound of movement elsewhere in the house. You spend most of it in your room, half-lying on your bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone without really reading anything.
Every so often, you hear his voice. Muted through the walls. Calm. Easy. Laughing lightly at something your mom says.
It shouldnât bother you, but it does.
When hunger finally wins over avoidance, the sun is already dipping lower in the sky. The house smells faintly of reheated food, warm and familiar. You take a breath before leaving your room, practicing a neutral expression in the mirror.
The kitchen is quieter now. Youâre just about to turn the corner toward the kitchen when you hear your mom speak.
ââŠSheâs been a little off today,â she says, voice gentle. âProbably tired. Or avoiding something.â
You pause without meaning to. Heeseung answers after a beat. âShe does that.â
Your chest tightens instantly.
Your mom chuckles softly. âDoes what?â
âPulls back,â he says, careful. âWhen she doesnât know how to react yet.â
Silence. Then the faint clink of a spoon against a bowl. âYou sound like you know her pretty well,â your mom says lightly.
Another pause. Short. Measured.
âI had an impression,â Heeseung replies. âA while ago.â
An impression.
Your fingers curl at your side.
âHuh,â your mom hums. âThatâs funny. She actually does leaves impressions on people,â
Thereâs a smile in Heeseungâs voice when he answers. âYeah. She does.â
Your mom moves on easily, talking about dinner, about how long Mrs. Lee plans to stay. The conversation drifts, harmless again.
But you donât move because impressions arenât made in passing. Theyâre made when someone sees you up close. When you let them.
You step back quietly, retreating before either of them can notice you there. Back in your room, you sit down slowly, heart still racing.
He didnât say youâd met.
He didnât say when.
But he didnât say you were strangers either. And somehow, that middle ground feels far more dangerous.
A soft knock echoes through your room a few minutes later.
âHey⊠you awake?â Heeseungâs voiceâcalm, controlled, but just close enough to make your heart stutter.
You freeze. Your chest tightens, your pulse spiking. Act normal. Just act like you werenât eavesdropping.
You smooth your hair with a trembling hand, blink rapidly, and open the door. âYeah⊠just woke up,â you say, voice a little too bright, trying to sound casual.
Heeseung steps into the doorway, just enough to glance around your room. His eyes flick over youânot accusatory, not teasingâjust aware. The way he looks at you makes the air between you feel suddenly heavy, like itâs charged with electricity you both canât ignore.
âYour momâs calling,â he says softly. âEverythingâs ready.â
You nod quickly, gripping the doorframe as if it can anchor you. âIâm⊠not that hungry,â you murmur.
Heeseung tilts his head, that faint, knowing curve of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. âUh-huh,â he replies, voice smooth, steady, and sharp enough to cut through your attempts at calm.
You step aside, but your foot catches on the edge of the rug. You curse under your breath, forcing a laugh. Too loud. Too sharp.
He doesnât comment. He doesnât need to. The silence itself feels deliberate, heavy. The space between you is so tight that you feel him even when he doesnât touch you.
âIâll be eating downstairs,â he finally says, straightening, eyes lingering just long enough to make your stomach clench.
âOkay⊠see you there,â you say, breath uneven, heart hammering.
He nods once, easily, and leaves, closing the door softly behind him.
The click echoes like a verdict.
You press your back against the door, sliding down slowly, hands trembling.
He knows I was listening.
He remembers⊠more than he should.
And he didnât say a word.
The thought alone makes your stomach twist.
You straighten abruptly, forcing yourself to move. Down the stairs. To the dining room. To the table.
Every step is a battle between calm and the chaos churning under your skin.
Because you know tonight, nothing is going to feel casual. Not with him. Not after this.
The whole time during dinner, you caught him staring at you. Shamelessly at that, gave you a sheepish smile when you eye him suspiciously. Heâd move his leg closer to yours, itâll bump a few times, but he doesnât pull away.
After dinner, you volunteer on doing the dishes. Your mom and Mrs. Leeâs voices fade into the living room, laughter and chatter blending together.
You take a steadying breath and move to the sink, rolling up your sleeves. Warm water runs over your hands, steam curling around your wrists. For a second, it almost feels normal. Almost.
Then you sense him before you hear him.
Heeseung steps beside you, quiet as a shadow. You tense instantly, shoulders stiff, fingers tightening around a plate.
âNeed some help?â he asks softly, tilting his head. Not teasing, not accusing. Just calm, measured.
âIâve got it,â you reply quickly, eyes trained on the suds, forcing the tone casual.
He doesnât insist. He simply picks up a stray plate, moving closer than necessary, letting his hands brush yours ever so slightly as he rinses it. You flinch, heart hammering, but he doesnât comment, doesnât linger. Just present.
The silence stretches, heavy, almost oppressive. Every splash of water, every clink of a dish, echoes too loudly.
You scrub a pan a little harder than needed, trying to focus on anything elseâthe warmth of the water, the smell of garlic, the mundane rhythm of washingâbut his quiet presence keeps threading through every thought.
He moves another plate, sets it down. Your hands brush again.
You feel your pulse spike, your chest tightening. Every subtle movement, every glance he doesnât makeâitâs all charged, all deliberate.
The kitchen is small. Empty. Safe. Except it isnât. Not with him here.
You swallow hard, scrubbing away your nerves as the quiet stretches on, aware that he notices everything, even the things you think he canât.
And somehow, that makes it impossible to breathe normally.
The sponge squeaks softly as you scrub, the rhythm steady but your thoughts anything but. Youâre just about to reach for another plate when he speaks again.
âYou know,â Heeseung says, evenly, like heâs commenting on the weather, âyouâre not very good at pretending.â
Your hand stills.
ââŠPretending what?â you ask, eyes fixed on the sink.
âThat you werenât listening earlier.â He sets a plate onto the rack, movements unhurried. âIn the hallway.â
Your chest tightens. You swallow. âI wasnâtââ
He cuts you off gently. âYou were.â Not accusing. Just factual. âYou always stop breathing when you do that, though your eyes give it away, that youâre pretending everythingâs fine.â
That makes your fingers curl instinctively around the sponge.
You let out a short laugh, more defensive than amused. âYou donât know what I âalwaysâ do.â
He glances at your hand, then back to the dish heâs drying. âI know because Iâve seen it before.â
You twist the dish towel in your hands, knuckles whitening. The quiet stretches too long, presses too hard against your ribs.
âAre we really doing this?â You snap, turning to look at him directly.
He raises his eyebrows, âDo what?â
You gesture vaguely between the two of you, before sighing. âImplying things happened, without really saying it?â
He watches you for a second, expression unreadableânot defensive, not amused. Just⊠attentive.
âIâm not implying,â he says evenly. âYou are.â
That only makes your chest tighten.
You scoff, turning back to the sink and reaching for another plate you definitely donât need to wash. âRight. Of course. Because Iâm the one who keeps bringing up impressions and ârememberingâ andâwhatever this is.â
He lets out a quiet breath, more tired than annoyed. âI brought it up once.â
âAnd youâve been hovering ever since,â you shoot back, voice sharp but not loud. âSo tell meâare we pretending we donât know each other, or are we circling around it until I crack?â The words hang between you.
He sets the towel down, slow, deliberate. âIâm not trying to crack you.â
âThen what do you want?â you ask, finally facing him again.
He meets your gaze, steady. No smile. No games. âI wanted to know if you leaving meant what I thought it did,â he says simply.
Your throat tightens. âAnd what did you think it meant, Evan?â
His breath hitches at the usage of his other name, âThat you didnât want to stay,â he replies. âNot just that morning. In general.â
You laugh softly, but itâs brittle. âItâs a one-night stand.â
He nods once. âIt is, but I clearly told you before we fell asleep, that Iâd prefer you staying.â
Silence settles again, thicker now. The kitchen light hums overhead. Somewhere in the living room, your mom and Mrs. Lee laugh at something on TV.
âI didnât leave because of you,â you say finally, quieter. âI left because staying wouldâve made it⊠complicated.â
His jaw tightens just a fraction. âAnd now?â
You hesitate. âNow it already is.â
He holds your gaze for a long moment, then exhales slowly. âYeah,â he says. âIt is.â
Neither of you move back to the dishes, he wipes the last plate before walking out of the kitchen.
APRIL 2025
The room is dim, lit only by the city glow slipping through the curtains. Everything feels slower, warmerâlike the night hasnât quite caught up with you yet.
Youâre tangled in the sheets, limbs heavy, head resting against the pillow. Your skin is still buzzing, your thoughts pleasantly loose around the edges. Somewhere nearby, Heeseung shifts, the mattress dipping slightly as he turns onto his side.
âYou okay?â he asks, voice low, a little rough around the edges.
You hum, half-laughing into the pillow. âI think so. Might need a minute to remember my name.â
He chuckles softly. âFair.â
The pause lingers, easy and unforced. The city light paints soft lines across the ceiling, and for a moment, neither of you moves.
Youâre the one who breaks it first.
âEvan,â you say, voice lazy, still warm with alcohol and comfort. âWhat do you actually do when youâre not⊠here?â
He exhales a quiet laugh, turning his head slightly toward you. âThatâs a loaded question.â
You smile into the pillow. âIâm serious. You feel like someone with a very normal answer and a very complicated explanation.â
He considers that. âI work in the music industry. Producing. It sounds fancier than it is.â
âEverything sounds fancier at night,â you mumble. âEspecially after drinks.â
âTrue,â he agrees. Then, after a beat, âWhat about you?â
You shrug, the sheets rustling. âStill figuring it out. I bounce around a lot, job-hunting.â
He smiles and run his hand on your hair, as if wanting to see your face clearly. âYouâre tense, like thereâs a lot going on here.â He softly taps on your temple.
You huff a quiet laugh, eyes fluttering shut at the gentle touch. âIs that your professional opinion?â you murmur. âBecause I didnât realize producers did mind-reading too.â
He chuckles, thumb brushing lightly through your hair, unhurried. âNot mind-reading. Just⊠paying attention.â
You turn your face toward him then, cheek sinking deeper into the pillow. âThereâs always a lot going on,â you admit. âI just donât like sitting still long enough to sort it out.â
âWhy not?â he asks, not pushingâjust curious.
You think about it for a moment, gaze drifting to the ceiling. âBecause if I do, I might realize Iâm not as put-together as I pretend to be.â
He hums softly, fingers still tracing slow, absent patterns. âThat doesnât sound like a bad thing.â
âEasy for you to say,â you mumble. âYou seem like youâve got things⊠handled.â
He smiles faintly. âIâm good at looking like I do.â
You glance back at him. âReally?â
âReally,â he says. âI just learned how to keep the chaos quiet.â
That earns a small smile from you. âGuess weâre not that different then.â
âGuess not,â he replies.
The room settles again, the air warm and slow. His hand stays in your hair, grounding, gentleâlike heâs in no rush to let the moment slip away.
Neither of you says it, but the thought hangs there between you, soft and dangerous all at once:
This feels easy.
Too easy.
He pulls you closer, lips pressing on your temple as he sighs.
âIâd love it if you stay.â
And you felt your heart breaks a little when you doze off.
âŠ
Three days.
Three days until he leaves.
And for the past two, he hasnât said a word to you.
You can feel it in every glance across the kitchen, every step in the hall, every time the front door opens and closes. Heâs there, moving around the house, calm and composed as ever, but the silence between you? Itâs deafening.
You try to keep yourself busyâlaundry, dishes, scrolling mindlessly through your phoneâbut the tension follows you everywhere. Even sitting in your room, pretending to read, you can hear him talking to your mom in the living room, laugh light and easy, and it makes your chest tighten.
Your mom insists on taking Mrs. Lee and Heeseung to the cityâs famous park for a âlittle sightseeing and fresh air,â and somehow, youâre drafted along.
âCome on,â your mom says, practically bouncing. âYouâll enjoy it! The weatherâs perfect, and itâs not a usual thing that we all went out together!â
So here you are, in Heeseungâs car with your moms at the back chatting mindlessly, pointing out shops, telling stories, laughing easily, while you sit in the passengerâs seat and him driving beside you.
He doesnât say much, just drives with that calm, effortless composure that makes your stomach twist in ways youâre not ready to name. Your mom and Mrs. Lee chatter nonstop behind you, oblivious to the tight coil of nerves in the seat beside him.
You glance at him occasionally, catching his profile in the sunlight, the way his hands rest lightly on the wheel, the faint line of concentration in his jaw. He doesnât meet your eyes, but you can feel the awareness there, quiet, unspoken, like a weight pressing just enough to make you swallow hard.
âI hope you like walking,â your mom says suddenly from the back, as if reading your tension, âthe parkâs beautiful this time of year. Lots of trees, fountainsâperfect for photos!â
âYeah,â you murmur, keeping your voice neutral, though your chest is still tight.
Heeseung hums softly, not answering but shifting slightly in his seat, just enough that you notice.
The car slows, pulling into the park lot. Sunlight streams through the windshield, glinting off the pavement and the scattered autumn leaves. Your mom practically leaps out first, Mrs. Lee following close behind, both chattering excitedly.
You take a deep breath, adjusting your bag, and slide out of the car. Heeseung steps out after you, calm and measured, slipping into the rhythm of the park like he belongs thereâyet you feel every step he takes, each one a quiet reminder that the past two days of silence havenât lessened the tension between you.
As the group moves along the tree-lined path, your mom and Mrs. Lee wander ahead, comparing flowers and pointing out fountains. Heeseung falls in step beside you, hands tucked into his pockets, walking slightly behind but close enough that you can feel the space between you shrinking.
âNice day,â he says finally, casual.
âYeah,â you reply, voice careful. âNot too crowded either.â
He hums softly, and you feel that subtle glance he throws your wayâquick, unobtrusive, but enough to make your stomach twist again.
The silence between words is heavy, but not hostile. Itâs loaded. Sharp. And as you continue along the winding paths of the park, you realize these three daysâand these stolen moments in the quietâmight be harder than anything you expected.
You barely get a chance to say more to him before your mom is already digging through her bag.
âPhoneâwhereâs my phone?â she mutters, then brightens. âOh! There it is.â
Mrs. Lee laughs beside her. âYouâre just as excited as ever.â
âOf course I am,â your mom says. âWhen do we ever get everyone together like this?â
Everyone.
You glance at Heeseung without meaning to. Heâs still looking around, taking the place in quietly, like heâs memorizing it. First time here. First time seeing your city like this.
âAlright,â your mom says, raising her phone. âGroup photo first.â
You shuffle closer, standing beside Mrs. Lee. Heeseung ends up at the edge, half a step apart from you, hands in his pockets.
âWait, no,â your mom frowns. âHeeseung, come closer. Youâre getting cut out.â
He obeys, stepping in just enough that his shoulder brushes yoursâbrief, accidental, but it sends a jolt through you anyway.
Click.
âAgain,â Mrs. Lee says. âThat one was blurry.â
You barely have time to reset before your mom adds, âOkay, now just you two.â
âWhat?â you and Heeseung say at the same time.
âItâs nice to have one of the younger generation,â your mom insists. âFor memories.â
You exchange a quick glance with himâtoo quick to mean anything, too loaded to be nothing.
âJust stand there and act normal!â your mom says.
Easier said than done.
You stand side by side this time, not touching, but close enough that youâre aware of his presenceâhis warmth, the way heâs careful not to move too suddenly.
âSmile,â your mom sings.
You do. Heeseung offers something polite, restrained.
Click.
âThatâs nice,â Mrs. Lee says warmly. âYou both look good.â
You almost laugh at that.
As your mom reviews the photos, muttering happily to herself, you step back without thinking. Heeseung does the same.
You donât make it five steps more into the park before your mom stops again.
âWaitâstand there,â she says, already lifting her phone. âThe trees look really nice from this angle.â
Mrs. Lee nods enthusiastically. âOh yes, the lighting is beautiful.â
You exchange a look with Heeseung. Not a lookâjust a flicker. A silent here we go.
Click.
You start walking again. Ten steps this time.
âOh!â your mom gasps. âThe fountainâHeeseung, youâll love this. You two, go stand near it.â
âWe just took one,â you say weakly. âThat was over there,â she replies, like it explains everything.
So you move again, standing side by side while people pass behind you. Heeseung keeps his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, expression neutral. You keep your arms crossed, suddenly very aware of where youâre standing.
Click. Click.
Mrs. Lee laughs. âYou look very natural together.â
You almost choke on air.
The walk continues. The photos do too.
By the flower beds.
Near the bridge.
In front of the pond.
Each time, your mom adjusts angles, steps back, waves you closer, tells you to smile more, tilt your head, stand straighter.
âYou donât have to look so tense,â she tells you at one point.
You laugh, tight. âIâm fine.â
Heeseung glances at you then, quick and unreadable.
At some point, he murmurs quietly, just for you, âIf we keep this up, weâll have enough photos for a family album.â
You blink, surprised.
ââŠIâm sorry,â you mutter. âShe gets like this.â
He hums. âI noticed.â
Thereâs no edge in his voice. No teasing. Just observation.
Another photo.
Your shoulder brushes his this time, accidental. Neither of you move away immediately.
Click.
âPerfect!â your mom says.
You step away first.
The walk goes on, but your nerves donât settle. If anything, they tighten with every forced smile, every staged moment, every second youâre made to look like something youâre very much not.
And the worst part?
Heeseung never once complains.
He just keeps walking beside youâcalm, composedâletting the photos pile up like quiet evidence of something neither of you is ready to name.
You make it halfway up the stone path before it happens.
âWaitâwait, *here*,â your mom says suddenly, already lifting her phone again. âThis spot is perfect. The water, the rocksâvery scenic.â
You glance down at where sheâs pointing and feel a flicker of hesitation. The stones near the edge of the stream are uneven, damp from the spray of the fountain nearby. The drop isnât dramatic, but itâs enough to make you cautious.
âI donât think thatâsââ you start.
âOh, itâs fine,â Mrs. Lee says cheerfully. âJust be careful.â
Famous last words.
You step forward anyway, because of course you do. Because this is not the hill youâre dying on today.
Heeseung follows a step behind you, quiet as always.
âStand just there,â your mom says, framing the shot. âYes, yesâperfect.â
You shift your weight slightly to adjust your footing.
And then your shoe slips.
It happens fastâtoo fast for you to catch yourself. One second youâre steady, the next the ground tilts and your stomach drops, breath punching out of you as you instinctively reach for anything.
Strong hands grab your arm.
Another slides to your waist, firm and immediate, pulling you back before you can even gasp.
You stumbleânot forward, not downâbut straight into him.
Your back hits his chest, solid and warm, his grip tightening just enough to keep you upright. For half a second, youâre frozen there, heart racing, fingers clutching at his sleeve.
Heâs close. Too close.
You can feel his breath near your ear, feel the tension in his hold, the way his body adjusts automatically to steady yours.
âYou okay?â he asks quietly, voice lowâmeant only for you.
You nod, a little too fast. âYeah. Yeah, Iâthanks.â
He doesnât let go immediately.
Just long enough to make sure youâre steady.
Just long enough for the moment to stretch thin and dangerous.
âCareful,â he murmurs, almost instinctively.
Thenâclick.
âOh my goodness!â your mom exclaims. âThat was scary! Butâoh, wait. Hold on.â
You stiffen.
âThat one looked nice,â Mrs. Lee says, peering at the phone. âVery⊠natural.â
You finally step away, cheeks burning, suddenly very aware of how his hands had been on you, how easily heâd caught you, how familiar it felt in a way that made your chest ache.
Heeseung straightens too, composure snapping back into place like nothing happened. Hands back in his pockets. Expression calm.
But when you dare glance at him, his eyes linger on you just a second longer than necessary.
Your mom laughs. âSee? Good thing he was there. Youâd have fallen otherwise.â
âYeah,â you say, forcing a laugh. âGood thing.â
The walk continues, the photos continue, but something has shifted.
Your heart doesnât slow down.
And every time Heeseung walks just a little closer after that, you canât tell if itâs accidentalâ
âor if heâs making sure you wonât fall again.
âŠ
After dinner, you decide to hog the living room all by yourself, continue binge watching another C-drama you have postponed watching for the longest time.
Itâs almost midnight, the moms had already wished you goodnight. You smile to yourself at the very well-earned time to yourself.
Or not?
Heeseung appears at the bottom, slightly disheveled, hair tousled like heâs just run a hand through it one too many times. Heâs in simple grey sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt, the kind that clings just enough to show he didnât bother thinking about how he looked.
His eyes are still half-lidded with sleep as they settle on the TV screen, expression calm.
He looks at you, before taking a seat.
âI watched this one.â He says softly. Voice hoarse with sleep.
âNo spoilers, please.â You says, turning away to look at the TV. He laughs.
âNothing to extreme, itâs a rom-com. Nothing can be a spoiler.â You clutch your heart, dramatically looking at him.
He shrugs. âWhat? Itâs true. You know in the end they end up together.â
You sigh, leaning back. âWell, true that.â He lean back too, making your shoulders touch.
âWhy did you wake up?â I look at him. âItâs barely midnight.â
âCanât sleep. I mean, I kept waking up.â He replies, fingers tapping on his thigh. You nod, continue watching the romantic scenes on the TV.
âYou enjoy stuffs like these?â He asks, not looking at you.
âAnything feel-good is enjoyable.â
âSo the concept of romance, you like it?â He asks, carefully.
âWhere are you going with this?â You look at him, eyes narrowing. He meets your gaze, his expression looking more earnest.
âJust wondering, if youâd like it in real life too.â
You scoff. âYou and your nonstop bullââ
âIs it bullshit, really?â He asks, seriously this time. You felt your heart beating fast, you look away, just anywhere. Not sure where to look when heâs all up in your space like this.
âEvan.â You started,
âNo, let me tell you this.â He straighten up, body now fully facing you, as he look directlt into your eyes.
âIâm sorry if I ever come up as pushy, talking about you with your mom, hinting at our past to her, making you feel things you donât like, that wasnât my intention.â He winces.
âI justâŠI just wanted to get to know you, really look at you. No dim lights of the bar, no dark night sky as we walk back to some hotel, and certainly no dark hotel room where I spent the whole night feeling good with the woman I knew nothing about.â He sighs.
âItâs just a one night stand, I get it.â He scoffs, âbut what if I told you that I wanted more? That I regret waking up without your presence the next morning, how every sound you let out that night made me fantasize the sounds youâd make if it wasnât casual?â
At this point, you were looking at him speechless. Youâre not trusting your voice right now.
âEvanââ
âHeeseung.â He corrects. âEvan saw you first, but Heeseung fell for you.â
You fall silent again. Just staring at him like he didnât just pour his heart out while youâre watching some corny C-drama.
âSay something. Anything.â
The TV continues playing, characters confessing under scripted rain.
But this?
This isnât scripted.
And youâre not sure which feels scarier.
Your throat feels tight.
The dramaâs background music swells dramatically, the male lead on screen confessing under artificial rain, but it feels distantâlike white noise compared to the very real, very raw man sitting inches away from you.
You swallow.
âHeeseungâŠâ you finally manage.
He doesnât look away. Doesnât interrupt. Just waits.
âYouâre leaving in three days.â
Itâs not the response he expectedâbut itâs the only one that makes sense in your head.
His jaw tightens slightly. âI know.â
âSo what is this?â you ask, your voice quieter now. âYou confess, we⊠what? Start something? And then youâre on the road back home in another city?â
He exhales slowly, running a hand through his already messy hair. âYou think I havenât thought about that?â
âI think youâre being impulsive,â you snap, but thereâs no heat behind itâjust fear. âYouâre here. It feels intense. Nostalgic. But when you go backââ
âItâs not nostalgia,â he says firmly.
The way he says it makes you pause.
âIt wasnât just that night,â he continues. âIâve tried to brush it off. Iâve tried to tell myself it was just chemistry. But then I see you here. The way you argue. The way you laugh with your mom. The way you pretend youâre tougher than you are.â
You glare at him slightly. âI am tough.â
His lips twitch faintly. âI know.â
That softness again. Itâs worse than teasing.
âI donât expect you to promise me anything,â he says. âI just needed you to know that Iâm not playing around.â
Your fingers tighten around the blanket.
âYou donât get to say all that and then expect me to just⊠be calm,â you whisper.
âI donât want you calm,â he admits. âI want you honest.â
The word lands heavily.
Honest.
You look at him thenâreally look at him. Thereâs no arrogance. No flirtation. Just a quiet steadiness that makes your chest ache.
âYou think this is easy for me?â you ask softly. âSeeing you in my house. At dinner. At the park. Acting like we didnâtââ
Your voice falters.
âLike we didnât matter,â he finishes.
You nod.
Silence settles again, but itâs no longer suffocating. Itâs fragile. Balanced on something sharp.
âI didnât plan to fall for you,â he says quietly. âIt just happened.â
Your heart pounds harder at that word.
Fall.
âYou donât even know me that well,â you argue weakly.
âThen let me,â he replies immediately.
That catches you off guard.
âLet me know you properly,â he says. âNot just the version from one night. Not just the version that pushes me away when things feel too real.â
Your breath hitches.
âYouâre scared,â he says gently.
âOf course I am,â you admit, almost frustrated. âYouâre leaving. I donât do long distance. I donât do uncertainty, IâŠcertainly donât just date from one good sex.â
âAnd I donât do pretending I donât care,â he counters.
The drama on the TV ends its confession scene with applause-worthy music. You grab the remote and mute it.
The silence now is entirely yours.
âWhat are you asking from me?â you whisper.
He leans a little closerânot touching, just closing the space enough that you feel his presence fully.
âA chance,â he says. âNot a guarantee. Just⊠donât shut the door before we even try.â
Your pulse is loud in your ears.
Three days before he leaves.
Three days to either build somethingâor protect yourself from it.
You look at him, eyes searching, trying to find a reason to dismiss this as temporary emotion.
You donât find one.
And thatâs what terrifies you.
âSay something,â he murmurs again, softer now.
This time, you donât look away. You stare at him for one long, overwhelming second.
Your heart is racing too fast. Your thoughts are colliding into each other. Three days. Confessions. âA chance.â Itâs too much. Too sudden. Too real.
You stand up abruptly.
âIâI need time to think,â you say, words tumbling out before you can filter them.
Heeseung rises halfway from the couch instinctively. âHeyââ
But youâre already stepping back.
âI just⊠I canât answer you right now,â you add quickly. âItâs a lot.â
His expression tightens, but he nods once. âOkay.â
You donât wait for anything else.
You bolt down the hallway, heart pounding, shutting your bedroom door a little harder than necessary. You lean against it, breath uneven.
Why now?
Why three days before he leaves?
Why does it feel like if you answer wrong, youâll lose something you didnât even realize you were holding?
You slide down against the door and press your palms to your eyes. You needed time. You just didnât expect it to feel like this.
The next morning smells like butter and coffee.
You frown, your mom does not wake up early on weekends.
You shuffle out of your room, still half-asleep, hair messy, expecting silence. Instead, you hear the sound of a pan sizzling. You blink.
Heeseung is in the kitchen.
Sleeves slightly rolled, apron tied awkwardly around his waist (clearly borrowed), hair still soft and unruly from sleepâbut this time he looks very awake.
Focused.
Your mom and Mrs. Lee are seated at the table, watching him like heâs some kind of five-star chef.
âHe insisted,â your mom says the moment she sees you. âSaid we should let him cook.â
He glances up at you.
Not smug, not teasing. Just steady.
âMorning,â he says.
You clear your throat. âMorning.â
He turns back to the stove. âScrambled eggs or sunny side up?â
You blink. âWhat?â
âFor you,â he clarifies. âHow do you like your eggs?â
Your mom gasps softly. âHe even asked me what you usually eat.â
You shoot her a look.
He continues like this is completely normal. âI made toast too. And thereâs fruit.â
You step closer to the counter, still confused. âSince when do you cook?â
âSince always,â he replies casually. âYou just didnât stay long enough to see.â
Your ears burn, looking over to your moms if they notice it, they donât.
He plates the food carefullyâneatly, intentionallyâand sets it in front of you first before sitting down.
That alone makes your stomach flip.
He doesnât bring up last night.
Doesnât push.
Doesnât corner you.
Instead, he talks to your mom about the park photos. Asks his about souvenirs to bring home. Clears plates without being asked.
Too proactive.
Suspiciously proactive.
When your mom mentions needing to run errands later, he immediately says, âI can drive.â
When Mrs. Lee talks about wanting to visit a bakery nearby, he says, âLetâs go after breakfast.â
You watch him the entire time.
Heâs not performing.
Heâs consistent.
Intentional.
When your mom leaves the table to grab something from her room, and Mrs. Lee follows, youâre briefly alone in the kitchen.
He stands by the sink, rinsing dishes.
âYou donât have to⊠do all this,â you say quietly. He doesnât turn around immediately.
âI know,â he replies then glances at you over his shoulder.
âBut I want to.â Thereâs no pressure in his voice, just effort.
You swallow.
âYou said you needed time,â he continues calmly. âIâm giving it to you.â The water runs softly between you.
âBut Iâm not going to act like I didnât say what I said.â Your pulse stutters.
âI meant it,â he adds. âSo Iâll act like I meant it.â
You stare at him and he turns the tap off and dries his hands slowly.
âIâm leaving in three days,â he says. âI donât want to waste them pretending.â
And somehow, that hits harder than the confession itself.
âŠ
From the moment breakfast ends, he doesnât leave your side. Not in a suffocating way. Not hovering. Just⊠present.
When your mom asks you to help bring laundry out to dry, heâs already reaching for the basket before you can. When you struggle with the stubborn sliding door, he steps in quietly, fixing it without making a show of it.
âYou donât have to follow me everywhere,â you mutter at one point, adjusting the clothespins.
âIâm not following you,â he replies lightly. âIâm staying here temporarily too, remember?â
You glance at him. He looks almost amusedâbut thereâs intention behind it.
Later, when you head to the small grocery store nearby because your mom forgot coriander, he walks beside you without even asking if he should come.
The afternoon sun is warm. The air smells like pavement and fried snacks from a stall down the street.
âSo,â he says casually, hands in his pockets. âWhat did you want to be when you were younger?â
You blink. âWhat?â
âWhen you were eight. Ten. What was the dream?â You huff softly. âThatâs random.â
âItâs not,â he says. âIt tells me things.â
You narrow your eyes at him. âYou analyzing me now?â
âMaybe.â
You roll your eyesâbut you answer anyway.
âI wanted to be a novelist,â you admit. âI used to write stories. Cringey ones.â
His eyebrows lift slightly. âYou still write?â
You hesitate. ââŠRarely now, in my notebooks in my apartment, or my notes app.â
âWhyâd you stop wanting to be it?â
The question is gentle. Not invasive. Just curious. You shrug. âReality. Expectations. It didnât feel practical.â
He nods slowly, absorbing that like it matters.
âIt still matters,â he says after a moment.
You glance at him. âWhat does?â
âThe fact that you wanted to create something.â
Your chest tightens slightly.
He doesnât tease. Doesnât brush it off. Just lets it sit there like itâs important.
Back home, when your mom asks you to help reorganize some old boxes in the storage room, he follows again.
Itâs dusty. Warm. Dim.
You crouch down to open a box of old photo albums. He kneels beside you, shoulder nearly brushing yours.
âThatâs you?â he asks, picking up a picture of you at maybe twelve years old, hair shorter, smile wider.
You snatch it lightly. âDonât judge.â
âIâm not,â he says. And he isnât. He studies the photo like heâs memorizing it.
âYou looked happy.â
âI was a kid.â
âAnd now?â
You look at him sharply. âWhatâs with the interrogation?â
âI told you,â he reminds you quietly. âI want to know you.â
Thereâs no rush in his tone. No desperation.
Just steadiness.
The day continues like that.
When you wash dishes, he dries them.
He asks about your university. Your friends. What stresses you out. What makes you laugh. What kind of music you secretly listen to when youâre alone.
At one point, he says, âYou hum when youâre focused.â
You freeze. âI do not.â
âYou do,â he insists softly. âYou were doing it while cutting fruit earlier.â
You didnât even realize.
âThe thing you do with your hand? That too.â He points out, while taking your hand, opening it and see the crescent marks on your palm.
âYou notice too much,â you murmur.
He doesnât deny it.
âSomeone has to,â he replies.
The living room is dim, only the lamp by the window casting a warm glow across the space. The TV is on but forgotten, some late-night rerun playing to fill the silence.
Youâre curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked under you. Heeseung sits beside youânot too close, not too farâclose enough that youâre aware of him without feeling crowded.
Heâs been quieter tonight. Observing.
âCan I ask you something?â he says eventually.
You glance at him warily. âYouâve been doing that all day.â
A faint smile. âHumor me.â
You sigh. âFine.â Only because you canât resist his charming smile.
âThat night,â he says carefully, âwhy were you really there?â
You stiffen slightly. âAt the bar?â
âIn another city. On a random weekend.â
âIt wasnât random,â you reply automatically.
He waits.
You stare at the muted TV screen for a long moment before answering.
âI party a lot with my friends,â you say finally.
He doesnât react. Just listens. âMore than people expect,â you add.
âWhy?â he asks softly.
You let out a small breath through your nose. âBecause itâs loud.â
He tilts his head slightly.
âBecause when the musicâs blasting and the lights are flashing and everyoneâs moving,â you continue, âI canât hear my own thoughts.â
The honesty surprises even you.
He doesnât interrupt.
âYou know how exhausting job hunting is?â you ask quietly. âApplications. Tailoring your resume for every company. Writing cover letters that feel fake. Preparing for interviews. Smiling. Selling yourself.â
His expression shiftsâmore focused now.
âAnd then the emails,â you continue, voice flattening. ââWe regret to inform you.â âAfter careful consideration.â âWeâve decided to move forward with other candidates.ââ
You laugh softly, but thereâs no humor in it.
âSometimes they donât even reply.â
Silence stretches.
âIt gets to you,â you admit. âYou start wondering whatâs wrong with you. If youâre not good enough. If everyone else is moving ahead while youâre just⊠stuck.â
He doesnât look away.
âSo yeah,â you shrug lightly, though your chest feels tight. âI party.â
âTo forget?â he asks.
âTo breathe,â you correct.
You shift slightly, hugging your knees closer.
âWhen Iâm out with my friends, Iâm not the girl refreshing her email at 2 a.m. Iâm not the candidate who didnât make it to the final round. Iâm just⊠me.â
He studies you carefully.
âAnd thatâs why you were in another city.â
You nod.
âWeâd just gotten two rejections that week,â you admit. âBack-to-back. I felt so stupid for getting my hopes up.â
Your voice lowers.
âSo we booked a cheap place, took a train, and told ourselves we deserved one reckless weekend.â
âYou call it reckless,â he says quietly. âBut you sound calculated.â
You frown slightly. âWhat?â
âYou didnât go there to ruin yourself,â he says. âYou went there to survive.â
That makes you blink.
âI like dancing,â you add quickly, deflecting. âI like dressing up. I like feeling wanted without having to prove Iâm competent or impressive.â
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly at that word.
âWanted.â
âItâs simple,â you say. âNo resumes. No interviews. No expectations beyond having fun.â
âAnd me?â he asks gently.
You swallow.
âYou werenât part of the plan,â you admit.
His eyes donât leave yours.
âI wasnât looking for something serious,â you continue. âIt was easier that way. Temporary city. Temporary connection. No future to mess up.â
âYou think you mess things up?â he asks.
You give him a look. âDonât psychoanalyze me.â
âIâm not,â he says evenly. âIâm trying to understand.â
You hesitate.
âWhen you donât get chosen enough,â you say slowly, âyou stop expecting to be.â
The words hang in the air.
He goes very still.
âThat night,â you continue, quieter now, âI wasnât thinking about tomorrow. I just wanted to feel good. To not think about rejection emails. To not feel like I was behind in life.â
âAnd I was⊠what?â he asks softly.
âA distraction,â you answer honestly.
The word lands heavy.
But before he can retreat into it, you addâ
âA good one.â
His gaze sharpens slightly.
âYou were easy,â you explain. âNot in a bad way. You didnât interrogate me. You didnât act like you were doing me a favor. You just⊠were there.â
He exhales slowly.
âAnd when I woke up alone,â he says quietly, âit didnât feel temporary.â
You look at him.
âI didnât want to be just a distraction,â he continues. âI wanted to be something that stayed.â
Your heart stutters.
You look away first. âI donât know how to let things stay,â you admit.
âBecause youâre used to them leaving?â he asks.
The vulnerability in the room shifts everything.
He doesnât reach for you, doesnât crowd you. He just sits there, steady.
âYou party to break free,â he says after a moment. You nod.
âIâm not here to take that away from you.â
You glance at him cautiously.
âBut I donât want to be another escape,â he continues. âI want to be something you choose even when the music stops.â
Your chest tightens again.
Outside, the night is quiet. No music. No flashing lights. No crowd to drown out your thoughts.
Just him.
And the terrifying possibility that this time, you wonât be the one walking away before you can be rejected.
The room feels smaller after that.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
The lamp beside the couch casts a soft golden glow across his face, catching in his eyes. The TV is still muted, forgotten entirely now. Outside, the world is quietâno music, no city noise, no chaos to hide behind.
Just you.
And him.
âI donât know how to let things stay,â you admit again, softer this time. âNor how to stay.â
He doesnât rush to fill the silence. He doesnât try to fix you. He just watches you like your words matter.
âThen donât decide forever,â he says gently. âJust decide now.â
Your heart pounds.
âThatâs how it starts,â you whisper. âNow turns into later. Later turns into expectations.â
âAnd expectations scare you,â he says.
âThey fail,â you correct.
He studies you for a long moment. Then he shifts closerânot abruptly, not corneringâjust enough that the space between your knees and his disappears.
âIâm not an interview,â he says quietly. âYou donât have to impress me.â
Your throat tightens.
âI already like you,â he continues. âOn your stressed days. On your stubborn days. On the days you party too hard to feel free.â
You huff softly. âI donât party too hard, I still control myself.â
He almost smiles. âYou know what I mean.â
The tenderness in his voice makes your chest ache.
âYou donât have to earn staying,â he says.
The words hit somewhere deep.
You look at him, really look at him. His hair is still slightly messy from earlier. Heâs not styled, not composed like the first night you met. Heâs just⊠him.
And heâs looking at you like youâre not temporary.
Your voice comes out barely above a whisper. âYouâre leaving.â
âIn two days,â he says.
âAnd then?â
âThen we figure it out,â he replies. âOr we try. Or we fail. But at least we wonât be wondering.â
Your breathing feels uneven.
He lifts his hand slowly, like heâs giving you time to pull away.
When you donât, his fingers brush lightly against your cheek.
The touch is soft. Careful.
Nothing like that first night.
That night was heat and impulse and dim lights and stolen glances.
This is quiet.
Intentional.
His thumb traces gently along your jawline, barely there. You feel your pulse everywhere at once.
âYouâre shaking,â he murmurs.
âIâm not.â
âYou are.â
You swallow.
He doesnât laugh at you.
Doesnât tease.
His hand shifts slightly, cupping your cheek fully now. Warm. Steady.
âTell me to stop,â he says quietly.
You donât.
Instead, you lean in first.
Itâs small. Barely an inch, but it closes the distance.
His breath brushes your lips before they meet. Slow. Careful. Testing.
When he kisses you, it isnât rushed.
It isnât hungry.
Itâs soft.
Like heâs asking a question.
Your fingers clutch lightly at the fabric of his T-shirt without thinking. The kiss deepens just slightlyânot intense, not overwhelmingâjust enough to make your heart feel like it might burst.
He pulls back a fraction, forehead resting against yours.
His voice is low. Almost unsteady.
âThis isnât an escape,â he says.
You nod faintly, breath mingling with his.
âI know.â
He kisses you again.
This time with more certainty.
Not claiming. Not demanding.
Choosing.
Your hand slides up to the back of his neck, fingers threading lightly into his hair. He exhales softly against your lips, one hand moving to your waistâsecure, but not pulling you in without permission.
The world outside the living room feels nonexistent.
No rejection emails.
No interviews.
No expectations.
Just this moment.
When you finally pull back, your lips feel warm, your thoughts scattered.
âNow,â he murmurs softly, echoing his earlier words.
You let out a shaky breath.
âNow,â you repeat.
And for the first time, it doesnât feel like something youâre running from.
It feels like something youâre choosing.
The living room feels impossibly small after that kiss. Your pulse is racing, every nerve on fire, yet your mind is dizzy in a way that makes thinking impossible.
Heeseung pulls back just slightly, his forehead still resting against yours, and you can feel the warmth of him everywhere. For a heartbeat, neither of you moves, the air thick with unsaid words.
âIââ you start, but your voice falters.
âIâve got you,â he says suddenly, firm but gentle. His hands slide under your arms, and before you can protest, he lifts you effortlessly.
Your stomach flips. âHeeseung! Put me down!â you squeak, half-laughing, half-panicking, but you donât resist.
âI donât want to,â he murmurs, his lips brushing the side of your temple as he carries you toward your room. His voice is low, intimate, and the closeness makes your chest tighten even more.
Your room feels impossibly far and yet too close. The walls, the soft glow of your lamp, the familiar smell of your spaceâall of it is suddenly charged.
He sets you down gently on your bed, but the tension doesnât leave. His hands linger near your waist, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of your shirt. You feel the deliberate weight of his gaze on you, assessing, quiet, patient.
âAre you⊠okay with this?â he asks, voice husky but careful, and you canât tell if heâs asking about the kiss, being alone together, or everything.
You swallow hard, your pulse loud in your ears. âIâI think so,â you admit, your words trembling just enough to betray your certainty.
He shifts closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand resting lightly on the mattress near yours. Youâre inches apart, every movement amplified. The air feels electric, charged with anticipation and heat.
His eyes trace your face slowly, almost like heâs memorizing every line, every shadow. âYouâre warm,â he murmurs, voice softer now, almost a whisper.
Your breath catches. The room is quiet except for the distant hum of the city outside. Your fingers twitch at the edge of the blanket, trying to ground yourself, but he leans in, closing the space further.
His hand moves to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, brushing against your jaw as he does. You feel your own hands rise, unconsciously resting on his forearm. The intimacy is subtle, teasingâevery touch deliberate, careful, yet charged with something unspoken.
âYouâve been on my mind,â he admits quietly, gaze locking with yours. âAll day. Since breakfast. Even when we were doing the dishes⊠I couldnât stop thinking.â
Your chest tightens. The honesty in his tone, combined with the nearness, makes your head spin. âMaybe you also have been lingering in my head all along for the past two months.â
âIââ you start, but he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. Itâs slower, deliberate, exploratoryâbut thereâs a hunger there too, restrained yet unmistakable.
Your hands find his chest, fingers brushing against the fabric of his T-shirt, feeling the solid warmth underneath. The kiss deepens slightly, teasing, suggestive, daringâbut still measured.
He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, reading your reaction, searching for consent in your gaze. Your pulse is racing, your thoughts scattered, but the answer is clear in the flutter of your heartbeat.
His lips hover over yours again, close enough that you can feel the warmth and breath, and for a moment, nothing else exists: no hesitation, no past regrets, just the two of you, the quiet room, and the thrilling, dangerous pull of something more.
And then he whispers, low and husky, âDo you trust me?â
Your answer is a shiver, a nod, a soft, âYes,â barely audibleâbut itâs enough.
The air between you thickens, charged with a suggestion, a promise, a question that doesnât need wordsâbecause the way heâs looking at you, the way heâs close enough to touch, it says it all.
âŠ
Heeseungâs lips trail down your neck with a slow, teasing warmthâeach kiss featherlight at first, then lingering just enough to leave faint tingles in their wake. His breathing is uneven but controlled, clearly trying to balance the haze with focus.
âAlways smell so good.â He murmur between kisses. One hand rests tentatively against your shoulder while the other tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear before continuing his path lower.
Then he pauses abruptly near your collarbone as if remembering something, âI donât have condoms with me,â He looks at you.
You huff, turning to your handbag. Pulling out the small foil packet, he smiles at you. âFor your other one night stands?â You laugh.
âThat was the plan, but I stopped doing thise after you.â He doesnât question it, because he knows. You tug at his shirt, signalling you want it off.
Heeseung makes quick work of his shirt, tossing it aside before popping the button on his pants. His movements are fluidâconfident but not rushedâas he steps out of them and kicks them toward the floor.
âBetter?â He asks, voice low as he reaches for you again, now only in his boxers.
His fingers are gentle but eager as he helps you out of your own clothesâeach piece discarded with care until thereâs nothing left between you. His touch lingers on bare skin, like heâs relearning every curve after months of yearning.
"God⊠I love this,"he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. âSo beautiful.â
Heeseung trails kisses downwardâslow, deliberateâeach one hotter than the last. His hands follow, mapping your body like heâs memorizing it anew. When his lips finally reach the place you have been dying for him to touch, he glances up at you through his lashes, smirking.
âWant me to touch you here?â
You nod, he tsks. âNeed to hear you, baby.â As his breath brushes your open folds.
âYes.â You gasped, âYes, please.â
He smiles, Heeseung doesnât waste another secondâhis mouth sealing over you with practiced devotion. Every flick of his tongue, every hum against your skin is calculated to unravel you.
And it works.
His free hand grips your thigh, holding you steady as he focuses entirely on pleasuring and loving youâlike this is the only mission that matters tonight.
Heeseung zeroes in on your clit instantlyâhis tongue circling it with just the right amount of pressure before sucking lightly. His eyes stay locked on yours, gauging every twitch and gasp to adjust his technique.
"This okay?" he murmurs against you, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear you say it anyway.
You nod, he hums in approvalâtaking your nod as permission to double down. His tongue flicks faster now, alternating between broad strokes and precise little darts while his fingers slip inside you, curling just right.
You yelp at the sudden intrusion, Heeseung pauses immediatelyâpulling back just enough to check your expression. His brows furrow in concern, but he keeps his fingers still inside you.
"Too much?" he asks softly, ready to adjust at your slightest hint. You shake your head, âItâs good, sâgood..â
He exhales in reliefâhis tension melting into renewed focus. He resumes with even more care now, his movements deliberate and gentle as he coaxes you toward pleasure rather than overwhelming you.
"Thatâs it," he murmurs, lips brushing your inner thigh between words. "Just relax⊠Iâve got you."
âIâll make you feel better than that night.â
He adds a second fingerâstretching you gradually as his thumb replaces his tongue, rubbing slow circles over your clit instead. His eyes stay locked on your face, tracking every flutter of pleasure.
âTell me if anythingâs too much," he reminds, voice thick with concern beneath the desire.
Heeseung's touch remains gentle and attentive, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm that builds pleasure without rushing you. Every now and then, he glances up to make sure you're still comfortableâhis expression soft with care even as desire burns in his gaze.
âSo good for me, youâre so good for me.â He murmurs againts your skin, words warm and reverent.
He senses you're closeâyour breaths hitching, your body tensing around his fingers. He presses a final open-mouthed kiss to your clit before murmuring,
"Come for me, baby.â
His words are the last push you needâyour climax crashing over you in waves as Heeseung rides it out with his fingers, his touch never faltering. When your tremors subside, he presses a kiss to your inner thigh and slowly withdraws his hand.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, crawling up to claim your lips in a deep kissâletting you taste yourself on him.
âNeed you, now.â You breath againts his lips
Heeseung groans at your words, his body responding instantly. In one fluid motion, he flips onto his backâpulling you atop him, before rolling the condom on with practiced ease.
âRide me,â he rasps, before teasing his tip on your folds and guiding himself to your entrance. He hisses as you sink onto himâhis hands flying to your hips, gripping hard as he adjusts to the sudden tightness. His head falls back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut for a second before he forces them open again, needing to see you.
"Fuck," he grits out, "You feelâŠ"
Words fail himâtoo overwhelmed by how perfectly you take him in.
His breath comes in ragged bursts as you start movingâhis hips instinctively bucking up to meet each of your descents. One hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you down into a searing kiss while the other presses possessively against your back.
He loses himself in the rhythm you setâevery roll of your hips sending sparks through his veins. His hands roam your body, worshiping every curve as he murmurs praise against your skin.
âGonna kill me like this, baby.â He cups your breasts as he pinches one of your nipples, you moan.
His control starts to frayâhis thrusts becoming less measured, more desperate. He can feel his climax building rapidly, but he refuses to let go until you do first.
Heeseung flips you onto your back with surprising gentleness despite the urgency in his movements. The second heâs nestled between your thighs again, he surges into youâeach thrust deep and deliberate.
"Look at me," he demands softly, cradling your face as his pace turns relentless. "Want to see you when we finish."
His thrusts grow erraticâhis breath coming in sharp gasps as he chases his release. But even now, at the peak of pleasure, his focus stays on you, making sure youâre right there with him.
âSearched for you like crazy, kept..kept..asking around.â He went down to latch on your nipple, sucking softly and twirling his tongue making you whimper underneath him.
âNeed the girl that made me fall hopelessly from just one night.â
Heeseungâs eyes lock onto yours, the intensity in his gaze nearly overwhelming as he pushes you both toward release. His thrusts grow sharperâeach one hitting that perfect spot inside you while his thumb circles your clit with just enough pressure, making your moans slightly louder than before.
"Close?" he rasps, voice strained with restraint.
You nod frantically, your body coiling tight with impending pleasure. Heeseungâs answering grin is fierceâhe can feel it too.
"Then let go," he urges, his own rhythm faltering as he chases his own peak alongside you.
The moment your climax hitsâwaves of pleasure crashing over you in relentless successionâHeeseung follows with a broken groan. His thrusts stutter before he buries himself deep, shuddering through his release as he holds you close.
For several breathless seconds, all either of you can do is cling to each other, sweaty and spent but utterly satisfied.
âDonât go. Donât leave this time.â He says, pressing a lazy kiss on your shoulder.
âCanât run even if I tried,â you laugh, finally aware that you guys fucked in your childhood bedroom, in your parentsâ house. With his and your moms just a few doors away.
âŠ
Morning comes softly.
Not with alarms. Not with loud footsteps downstairs.
Just sunlight.
It slips through the thin gap in your curtains, warm and golden, stretching slowly across your walls, across your desk, across the edge of your bed.
You blink awake gradually, consciousness returning in pieces.
The warmth against your back registers first.
Then the weight around your waist.
Then the steady rise and fall of someone elseâs breathing.
Your heart stutters.
Heeseung.
His arm is draped securely around you, palm resting flat against your stomach like it belongs there. Your back is pressed lightly to his chest, his face buried somewhere near the back of your neck, breath warm against your skin.
For a second, you donât move, you just lie there and lets the reality settle.
Last night wasnât loud or reckless or fleeting. It wasnât dim bar lights and alcohol-blurred edges.
It was slow.
Intentional.
You remember how careful he was. How he kept checking in. How he looked at you like this wasnât just physical.
Your cheeks warm at the memory.
Behind you, he shifts slightly. His arm tightens instinctively when you move.
âMmm,â he hums, voice thick with sleep. âDonât go.â You freeze.
âIâm not,â you whisper, even though you hadnât actually planned to.
He exhales softly against your shoulder, clearly not fully awake yet. His fingers flex slightly against your waist, like heâs grounding himself.
The sunlight climbs higher.
You slowly turn your head just enough to glance at him.
His hair is a mess, falling into his eyes. His lips are slightly parted, expression relaxed in a way youâve never seen before. No guarded composure. No teasing edge.
Just him.
Peaceful.
He blinks awake a moment later, eyes adjusting slowly.
Thereâs a brief second of confusion.
Then recognition.
Then something softer.
âMorning,â he murmurs. Your heart flips.
âMorning.â
Neither of you moves away.
Neither of you makes it awkward.
He studies your face like heâs making sure youâre real. Like he half-expected to wake up alone again. âYouâre still here,â he says quietly.
You swallow. âSo are you.â A small smile touches his lips.
He lifts a hand, brushing his thumb gently along your cheekbone. Not suggestive. Not urgent. Just⊠tender.
âRegrets?â he asks carefully.
You consider it. The sunlight. The warmth. The quiet. His arm still wrapped around you.
âNo,â you answer honestly.
Relief flickers across his face so subtly you almost miss it.
âGood,â he murmurs.
Silence settles again, but itâs comfortable.
Youâre suddenly aware of the house. Of your mom downstairs. Of Mrs. Lee probably already awake.
Reality creeping back in.
âWe should probably get up,â you say softly. He groans lightly. âFive more minutes.â
You roll your eyes, but you donât move. His fingers trace lazy patterns against your waist absentmindedly.
âLast night,â he begins quietly, âwasnât just⊠heat.â
You turn slightly to face him more fully now, the blanket shifting around you.
âI know,â you reply. His eyes search yours.
âI meant what I said,â he continues. âAbout wanting more.â
The weight of it is still there. But this time, it doesnât feel suffocating. It feels steady.
You reach out, brushing a piece of hair away from his forehead. âIâm still scared,â you admit.
âThatâs okay,â he says immediately.
âBut I donât want to run,â you add.
Something shifts in his expressionâsomething hopeful. âWeâll figure it out,â he says quietly. âOne step at a time.â
He leaves tomorrow.
But right now, heâs here.
Warm. Real. Looking at you like youâre not temporary.
His hand slides into yours under the blanket, fingers intertwining slowly.
SEPTEMBER 2025
Three months later, your apartment feels both fuller and emptier at the same time.
Fuller â because his hoodie is draped over the back of your chair. Because thereâs a mug he likes that you bought âaccidentally.â Because your call logs are filled with his name. Because thereâs a toothbrush tucked into the corner of your sink like it belongs there.
Emptier â because right now, he isnât here.
Long distance wasnât glamorous.
It was: falling asleep on video call, propping your phone against your pillow just to see his face, texting âreach home safeâ every long rides he takes back home, syncing up dramas and pressing play at the same time,
It was him visiting every three weeks without fail. No excuses.
He comes by Friday night, spends the weekend before saying goodbye Sunday night. Sometimes with a small bouquet.
Sometimes with your favorite snacks.
Once with nothing but a tired smile and open arms.
And every time he left, the goodbye got quieter. Less dramatic. More heavy.
But you were trying. Both of you were.
Tonight, youâre expecting him again.
Youâd cleaned the apartment earlier, even though heâs seen it messy before. Thereâs a faint scent of citrus from the candle you lit. Your heart always beats a little faster on visit days.
When the knock finally comes, you donât pretend to be calm. You open the door.
Heeseung stands there with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
And that smile, the one that makes three weeks feel like three seconds.
You donât even greet him properlyâyou just step forward and hug him. He laughs softly, arms wrapping around you tightly, lifting you slightly off the ground for a brief second.
âI missed you too,â he murmurs into your hair. When you pull back, you notice something. He looks⊠different.
Not physically.
But thereâs a weight behind his eyes.
âWhat?â you ask immediately. He exhales lightly. âCan I come in first?â You narrow your eyes but step aside.
He drops his bag near the couch, looks around your apartment like he always doesâtaking it in, grounding himself.
You close the door.
âOkay,â you say, crossing your arms. âWhatâs going on?â
He runs a hand through his hairâa nervous habit youâve come to recognize.
âI have news,â he says. Your stomach drops slightly.
âGood news?â you ask cautiously.
He hesitates just enough to make your heart pound.
âIâm moving.â The word hangs in the air.
Your mind scrambles. âMoving?â you repeat. âWhere?â
He steps closer. âHere.â
You blink. ââŠWhat?â
âI got a transfer,â he continues, the words coming faster now. âThere was an opening in the branch here. I applied a month ago.â
âA month ago?â you echo.
âI didnât tell you because I didnât want to promise something that might not happen.â
Your heart is racing now. âI got it,â he says quietly. âItâs finalized.â Silence fills your apartment.
âYouâre⊠moving here?â you whisper.
He nods. âI donât want to do long distance anymore,â he says. âNot when I donât have to.â
Your brain is still catching up.
âBut your mom? Your place? Producing?â
âShe supports it,â he replies. âAnd my job is still my job. Just different location.â
You stare at him.
âYou did this⊠because of me?âHe steps closer until thereâs barely space between you.
âI did this because I want a life where I donât count down weeks just to see you,â he says. âBecause I donât want to miss small things. Your bad interview days. Your random 2 a.m. thoughts. Your victories.â
Your throat tightens. âI donât want to visit you,â he continues softly. âI want to be here.â Tears prick at the corner of your eyes before you can stop them.
âYouâre serious,â you whisper.
He cups your face gently, thumbs brushing just beneath your eyes.
âIâve never been more serious.â
Your laugh comes out shaky. âYouâre insane.â
âProbably,â he admits. âBut Iâm yours.â
note: freaking finally! i know i promised you guys this a month ago, and yes iâm alive. just wanted to wrap things up with my semester and have a small break after stressing out for finals, but alas! here we are! first work kinda nervous >< hope u guys love it!
ROOM FOR RENT â ONE FEMALE ROOMMATE WANTED
Cheap rent, expensive consequences, first come, first served, unless you're too busy getting railed to answer the text!
No refunds!
RULES ON THE FRIDGE:
-Panties banned after 8 p.m.
-Movie nights on someoneâs lap.
-Counter sex while dinner cooks.
-Daily spankings, gropes, throat-fucks, and creampies like itâs rent payment.
INSPIRED BY 'YOUR TURN' STARRING @mssishipi!
pairing: roommates!hyungline x reader !
warnings: poly relationship strong language possessiveness jealousy alcohol mild power imbalance crashing dates fights slight drama between the guys porn with plot
warnings (smut): read if you're okay with filthy shit (mama them men are real big idiots) free use spit roasting gangbang creampie breeding kink cumplay degradation size kink squirting overstimulation edging spit play choking unprotected sex double penetration anal sex aftercare cumplay titjob titplay blowjob handjob cunnilingus oral (both f and m rec) mean doms choking manhandling rough sex recording overstimulation aftercare heavy
playlist: High for This by The Weeknd [] Friends by Chase Atlantic [] Oxytocin by Billie Eilish [] Swim by Chase Atlantic []
likes and reblogs for a cookie!
â WORD COUNT: 24.9K!
(Masterlist)
THE FLYER WAS TAPED CROOKED TO THE COMMUNITY BOARD in the lobby of your old building, curling at one corner like it had tried to escape and given up halfway through. The corkboard itself was a graveyard of desperation, lost cats with blurry photos, guitar lessons from a man named Reginald who swore he toured âalmost professionally,â a babysitting offer written in glitter pen. But this one, this violently neon pink rectangle, felt different.
Black Sharpie, pressed hard enough to dent the cardstock.
ROOM FOR RENT â ONE FEMALE ROOMMATE WANTED
- 5-bedroom apartment downtown. Utilities split 5 ways. No pets, no drama, no bullshit.
- Must be clean, chill, and okay with guys. Serious inquiries only.
- Four guys already here, all employed, clean(ish), no drama. Serious inquiries only.
- Text 82-10-XXXX-XXXX. First come, first served.Â
Don't waste our time.
No photos. No bullet points about ârespectful boundariesâ or âshared Netflix password.â Just that blunt, cocky little block of text, like they knew exactly what kind of person would bite anyway. The rent figure was unreal, half what you'd been paying for your shoebox studio that smelled faintly of regret and yesterday's takeout. You stared at it for a full minute, thumb hovering over your phone screen, heart doing that stupid flutter thing it does when you're about to make a decision that's either genius or catastrophic. Â
And then there was the line written in red pen, scrawled untidily, looking like a disastrous attempt at cursive.
âShe better be hot lolâ
Crossed out once, aggressively. Then underlined twice, like whoever wrote it had second thoughts about the shame and decided to recommit. You stared at that part the longest.
Your current apartment smelled like damp carpet and stale air no matter how many candles you burned. The windows rattled every time the train passed. Your landlord had the audacity to send out a mass email about a âmaintenance fee adjustmentâ that was definitely just code for I bought a new car and youâre helping pay for it.
Rent had started to feel like a chokehold. And this, four guys, one girl, big downtown apartment, utilities split five ways, was a stupidly good number. Too good. Which should have been your first red flag.Â
Your reflection in the lobby mirror looked tired. A little reckless. The kind of girl who was one bad decision away from either ruining her life or improving it dramatically. You took a picture of the flyer. You hesitated.
You zoomed in on the red scribble. You told yourself you were an adult. That you could handle four random men in a shared space. That this was just housing, not a horror movie opening scene. Then you texted the number before your common sense could wrestle your thumbs away.
You: Hi, saw the flyer for the roommate spot. Still available? Interested if the details match up. What's the move-in date?
The three dots appeared almost instantly. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. Your stomach did that awful, fluttery dip it does before you step into something you canât undo.
Unknown: yeah it's open. u got a name sweetheart?
Sweetheart. You actually rolled your eyes. You told yourself you rolled your eyes. But something warm slid low in your stomach anyway. Casual ownership. Teasing. A test.
You: Y/N. And yeah, I do. When can I come see it?
The typing bubbles came back. Stayed. Disappeared. Came back again. Then your phone vibrated with a voice note instead of text. You stared at it for a full second.
Who the fuck sends voice notes to strangers?
You slipped in one earbud like you were about to overhear something you werenât meant to. You hit play. Chaos. Not the polite kind. Not the muffled, distant kind. The kind that sounds like bodies moving and furniture scraping and too many voices in one space.
ââtold you the flyer was too obvious, dumbassââ
âShut the fuck up, she texted, didnât she?â
âBet sheâs mid. Fifty says sheâs mid.â
âFifty says sheâs a freak whoâll cry after one night.â
Explosive laughter. Low and rough and layered. Someone swore. There was a thud like someone got shoved into a couch. Another voice yelling, âGive me the phoneââ
Your pulse was in your throat. It felt intrusive. Intimate. Like you were already inside their space, hearing something raw and unfiltered. Then the chaos snapped. Cut clean. A different presence took over. Closer to the mic. Lower.
â...Y/N, right?â Your name sounded slower in his mouth. Like heâd rolled it around once before saying it.
âThis is Heeseung.â
The way he said it wasnât introduction. It was declaration. The background noise dimmed, not because the room got quieter, but because he stepped away from it. You could picture it without trying: him turning his back to the others, leaning against something, one hand braced on a counter, phone lifted close enough that his breath ghosted the mic.
The kind of voice that didnât rush. The kind that didnât need to. âPlace is still open. Come by tomorrow. 7 p.m. sharp. Weâll be here.â
Weâll be here. Not Iâll be here. A collective. A warning. There was a beat of silence. Not awkward. Deliberate. âBring your shit if you like what you see. We donât do second viewings.â
And then it ended. No goodbye. No emoji. No softening. Just the click of the recording stopping, leaving his voice hanging in your ear like smoke in a closed room. You sat on your sagging futon with the cheap springs poking through the cushion and replayed it. Twice.
The arguing in the background. The laughter. The careless comments. The way he had cut through all of it like a knife sliding into silk. You told yourself they sounded like idiots. You told yourself this was exactly the kind of environment youâd sworn youâd never put yourself in. But your thighs pressed together anyway, tension curling low and restless, not quite fear and not quite excitement.
You imagined the apartment. Exposed brick. Too much space. Music playing too loud. A kitchen that actually had room to breathe in. Four men who moved through it like they owned it. And one empty room.
Waiting. You should have blocked the number. Should have deleted the thread. Should have found a nice, quiet girls-only share in the suburbs where the biggest drama would be someone stealing your almond milk. Instead, you typed back.
You: 7 p.m. tomorrow. Address?
The reply came faster this time.
Heeseung: [pinned location]Donât be late, sweetheart. We hate waiting.
You read that last line more than once. We hate waiting. It sounded less like a preference and more like a rule. You packed that night with a strange kind of calm. One duffel bag. Just enough clothes to rotate for a few days. Toiletries. Charger. The essentials. You folded each item slowly, like you were preparing for something bigger than just a new address.
Your studio looked even smaller with your things missing. The walls felt closer. The air heavier. You stood in the middle of it and imagined tomorrow. The elevator ride up. The door opening. Four sets of eyes. The apartment smelling like expensive cologne and something darker. Smoke, maybe. Leather. Ego.
You imagined him. Them. All four of them. Either unfairly good-looking men who were complete assholes, or unimpressive men who were still complete assholes. The asshole part was a constant. The hotness was the only variable.
Not that it mattered. Of course it didnât.
You didnât know his face, but you knew the voice. Low. Steady. Amused. The kind of voice that didnât rush for anyone.
You imagined the smirk youâd heard through the speaker, lazy, confident, practiced. Probably rich, too. Not new-money loud, but old-money careless. Daddyâs money had a look. It looked like never checking price tags.
You zipped the duffel closed. This was reckless. Stupid, even. The kind of decision that looked sensible only from far away, like a bruise that passed for lavender in low light. Rent had been pressing in for months, a dull gray weight at the base of your skull, constant as weather. You told yourself that was all this was. Survival. Logistics. Math.
But that wasnât the whole truth. There was something about his voice. Not the depth of it, not even the amusement. It was the contrast, the velvet laid carefully over something serrated. Chaos humming behind glass. Control presented like a gift.
It had sounded dark blue through the speaker. Not navy. Not midnight. Something electric and expensive. The kind of blue that didnât apologize for swallowing light. You should have been afraid of it.
Maybe you were. But the risk didnât feel like falling. Falling was abrupt. Colorless. Final. This felt different. It felt like stepping across the gold line in a painting, the one the artist never meant anyone to cross. Like touching wet paint just to see if it would stain. Like walking into a story that had already decided what to do with you.
7 p.m. Sharp. You arrive at 6:58 p.m.
Not because youâre punctual by nature, but because something about Donât be late. We hate waiting. lodged under your skin and stayed there all day.
The building is taller than you expected. Glass-fronted. Industrial. The kind of place that tries to look effortless and ends up looking expensive instead. The lobby smells faintly of artificially scented cleaner, probably lemon, and polished concrete. Exposed brick climbs one wall in a deliberate, curated way that says urban charm instead of structural compromise.
You stand in front of the elevator with your duffel bag hooked over one shoulder and a medium-sized suitcase at your side. You told yourself youâd bring only what you needed for a week.
You lied.
The elevator doors slide open with a soft metallic sigh. You step inside. Your reflection in the mirrored walls looks smaller than you feel. Lip gloss reapplied in the car. Hair brushed back into place. A quiet, deliberate choice in your outfit, effortless enough to pretend you didnât try, fitted enough to know you did.
The numbers climb. Your pulse climbs with them. You tell yourself this is housing. Just housing. Four men sharing rent in a five-bedroom apartment isnât unheard of. This isnât a cult. This isnât a frat house. This isnâtâ
The elevator dings. The doors part. And the first thing you hear is laughter. It spills into the hallway like it lives there. Low, overlapping, careless. The door to their unit is already open. You donât knock. You step inside.
The apartment is bigger than the pictures couldâve shown. High ceilings with steel beams running across them. Floor-to-ceiling windows pouring in late afternoon light that turns everything gold. A massive sectional couch in charcoal gray dominates the living space. Thereâs a long dining table made of reclaimed wood, scuffed in places that look intentional.
Music hums low from somewhere, bass-heavy, lazy. And then, you see them. All four of them. Shirtless. You stop walking. Theyâre scattered across the living area in a way that suggests they were doing something physical, lifting, maybe, but not something that required shirts. One is crouched by a stack of flattened cardboard boxes. Another leans against the kitchen island with a bottle of water tipped to his lips. Someone else stands near the couch, forearms flexed as he adjusts the hem of his joggers.
They notice you at the same time. Conversation dies. Itâs not dramatic. Not loud. It just⊠stops. Four pairs of eyes land on you. And stay there. You feel it before you process it. The weight of being looked at. Not glanced. Not politely assessed. Looked at. Slowly. Thoroughly. Like youâre an answer to a question theyâve already been debating.
The one by the kitchen island lowers his bottle first. Heâs tall. Lean muscle, not bulky. Collarbone sharp under the light. Damp hair pushed back from his forehead like heâs just showered or run a hand through it too many times. His gaze drags over you without apology. From your shoes. Up your legs.
To your waist. Your chest. Your mouth. Your eyes. He doesnât look away when you meet his stare. That has to be Heeseung. The voice fits.
âY/N.â
It isnât a question. Your name sounds different in the open air of the apartment. Deeper. Warmer. More tangible. âYeah.â Your voice comes out steady, which surprises you.
He pushes off the island and walks toward you. The other three follow slower, not crowding but not retreating either. You become aware of everything at once. The quiet click of your suitcase wheels settling. The way your fingers tighten around the strap of your duffel. The faint sheen of sweat along their collarbones.
They mustâve been moving furniture. Or maybe they just wanted an excuse to be shirtless when you arrived. The thought hits you uninvited. And then, you realize youâre staring, too. One of them, broader shoulders, dark hair falling into his eyes, lets out a low whistle.
âNot mid,â he mutters.
The guy beside him elbows his ribs. A cocky grin already spreading over his lips nonetheless before he disrupts it by caging his lower lip between his teeth. âShut up.â Heat crawls up your neck.
Heeseung stops about three feet in front of you. Close enough that you can see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. Close enough to smell something clean and subtle, soap, maybe, or skin warmed by movement. He tilts his head slightly.
âYouâre on time.â
âI said I would be.â
A corner of his mouth lifts. Behind him, one of the others steps forward and grabs your suitcase handle before you can protest. âWeâll take that.â
Itâs said casually, but thereâs something about the way he says we again that makes your stomach dip. The fourth one finally speaks. âYou bring everything?â
âJust enough to survive a week,â you reply.
He laughs. âSmart.â They move around you with unsettling ease. Not touching you. Not yet. But close enough that the air shifts when they pass. You step fully into the apartment as your suitcase is rolled toward the hallway. The door shuts behind you with a quiet click that feels louder than it should. You turn slowly, taking in the space.
The kitchen is massive, marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, open shelving that somehow looks organized despite the presence of four men. There are plants near the windows. A guitar propped casually against the wall.
This isnât a mess. It isnât chaotic. Itâs lived-in. Comfortable. Dangerously comfortable. âRoomâs down the hall,â Heeseung says. âLast one on the right.â
You nod, but you donât move yet. Because theyâre still looking at you. Not in a way that feels crude. But undeniably⊠interested. Assessing. One of them, taller than the rest, sharper features, leans back against the wall and crosses his arms. His eyes crinkle, âSo,â he says slowly. âYou cool living with guys?â The question isnât innocent. You lift your chin slightly.
âI wouldnât be here if I wasnât.â
His gaze flickers, approval, maybe. The broad-shouldered one smirks.
âYou get easily offended?â
âNo.â
âYou snore?â
âNot that I know of.â
âGot a boyfriend?â
The question lands differently. You glance at Heeseung. He hasnât spoken. Heâs watching you. Waiting. You meet his eyes and answer evenly, âNo.â
The silence that follows is subtle, but it shifts something. Like a door quietly unlocking. Heeseung gestures down the hall. âCome see your room.â
You follow. The hallway is lined with closed doors. Music grows fainter as you move away from the main space. Your suitcase wheels roll softly against polished concrete. He opens the last door and steps aside to let you in first. The room is bigger than you expected.
Large window. Soft gray walls. A queen-sized bed frame already assembled. A desk near the corner. Closet doors sliding open to reveal empty hangers. It doesnât feel like someone just left it. It feels like it was waiting.
You step inside. He follows. The others hover at the doorway, leaning casually against the frame like theyâre watching a show. âWell?â one of them asks. You set your duffel down on the bed.
âItâs⊠really nice.â Heeseung walks to the window and pulls the curtain slightly, letting more light in.
âTold you. No bullshit.â He turns to face you fully. Thereâs something different now that youâre in a smaller space. More contained. More charged. You can feel the other three just outside the room. Listening. You cross your arms loosely.
âWhatâs the actual catch?â
One of the guys snorts from the hallway. Heeseungâs lips twitch. âNo catch.â
âFour guys, one girl, cheap rent, no second viewings. Thereâs always a catch.â
He steps closer. Not enough to trap you. Just enough to make you aware of proximity. âWe donât like flakes,â he says quietly. âWe donât like drama. We donât like people who pretend theyâre chill and then arenât.â
âAnd if Iâm not?â
âThen you wonât last.â
The words arenât cruel. Theyâre factual. You swallow. âIs that a threat?â
His gaze drops briefly to your mouth. Then back up. âItâs information.â
The other three laugh softly behind him. âYou scared?â someone calls.
You step closer instead of back. âNo.â And thatâs the truth. Youâre not scared. Youâre wired. Thereâs a difference. He studies you for a long second. Then nods once.
âGood.â He steps back, creating space again. âYou can move in tonight if you want.â Your heartbeat stutters.
âThat was the deal.â One of them pushes off the doorframe. âGuess weâve got a new roommate.â The broad-shouldered one grins. âWelcome to the madhouse.â
They disperse slightly after that. Not fully. But enough to let you breathe. You kneel on the bed to unzip your duffel, aware of eyes tracking the movement. A shirt comes out. Toiletry bag. A pair of heels you probably wonât need but packed anyway.
From the hallway, a voice says quietly, âSheâs staying.â
âObviously,â another replies.
You pretend not to hear. But your skin hums. Because beneath the jokes. Beneath the cocky questions. Thereâs something else. A tension that hasnât snapped yet. An understanding that this isnât just about splitting rent. You donât know the rules. You donât know the lines. But you feel them. Drawn. Invisible. Waiting. You stand and smooth your hands down your sides.
âIâll bring the rest tomorrow.â Heeseung leans against the wall now, arms crossed. âTake your time.â
Your gaze locks again. The eye contact lingers too long to be accidental. Too steady to be polite. Itâs not crude. Itâs not rushed. Itâs slow. Deliberate. Like heâs memorizing you.
And maybe, youâre memorizing him, too.
Friday night settles in outside the window, the sky deepening from gold to blue. You came here for cheap rent. For square footage. For practical reasons. But as the music in the living room turns louder and someone calls your name like youâve always belonged here, you realize something quietly, dangerously simple. This wasnât just a listing.
It was an invitation. And you accepted it. The kitchen island becomes your first battlefield.
Someone, Jay, you learn later, has already spread out a chaotic spread of takeout: greasy fried chicken in red-and-white buckets, japchae tangled in sesame oil, bulging containers of tteokbokki still steaming, a few lonely mandu that look like they've been fought over. Plastic forks and chopsticks clatter. No plates. No pretense of civility.
You slide onto one of the high stools, thighs sticking slightly to the leather from the heat still clinging to your skin after the move. Your thin white tank clings in all the wrong-right places, damp from nerves and the apartment's lazy, cold thermostat. No bra underneath because you'd changed into "comfy" clothes after unpacking the bare minimum. Big mistake.
Or the best one you've made all week. They circle like sharks who've already scented blood. Heeseung claims the stool right beside you without asking. His bare knee knocks yours under the island the second you settle. He doesn't move it. Neither do you. Jay drops onto the one across from you, broad shoulders taking up too much real estate. He leans forward on his elbows, forearms corded, watching you like you're the next thing on the menu.
Jake sprawls next to him, legs spread wide under the counter, one foot hooking casually around your ankle like it's always belonged there. He grins, pretty, boyish, filthy.
Sunghoon perches at the end like a king on his throne, long legs stretched out, one hand already tearing into a chicken wing. He licks sauce off his thumb slowly, eyes never leaving the front of your tank.
"Alright," Heeseung says, voice low and amused as he pops open a beer and slides one toward you without asking if you drink. "Introductions, since you're staying."
He drags a knuckle down your bare arm, slow, deliberate, like he's testing how soft you are. Goosebumps erupt instantly. "I'm Heeseung." His fingers linger at your wrist, thumb pressing your pulse point. "You already knew that." You nod, throat dry. Take a sip of the beer. It's cold. Sharp. Does nothing to cool the heat pooling between your legs.
Jay jerks his chin up. "Park Jongseong. Jay." He reaches across the island, grabs a piece of tteokbokki with his fingers, holds it out to you. "Open." You hesitate half a second. He raises one brow. "Don't make me feed you like a baby, sweetheart."
Your lips part. He pushes the sticky rice cake inside, thumb brushing your bottom lip as he pulls back. Sauce smears. He doesn't wipe it off. Just watches it glisten there.
"Jake Sim," the one with the foot around your ankle says. He leans in, elbow on the counter, chin in hand. His gaze drops blatantly to your chest. Your nipples have pebbled hard against the thin cotton, traitorous little peaks begging for attention. He bites his lip, lets out a soft, appreciative hum. "Fuck, you're not wearing a bra. Bold move, roomie."
Heat floods your face. Also lower. Sunghoon doesn't bother with words at first. He just stares, cold, assessing, predatory. Then he speaks, voice velvet and mean.
"Park Sunghoon." He drags a fry through sauce, offers it to you the same way Jay did. When you lean forward to take it, he pulls it back at the last second, makes you chase. You feel ridiculous. Wet. "Good girl." The praise lands like a slap. Your thighs clench.
Heeseung chuckles low beside you. His hand finds your knee under the island, big, warm, possessive. Slides up your inner thigh slow enough that you could stop him. You don't. His fingers stop just shy of where your shorts end, thumb stroking the crease where thigh meets hip. Back and forth. Lazy. Teasing the edge of your underwear.
"So," Jay says around a mouthful of chicken, eyes locked on the outline of your nipples like they're speaking to him personally. "What's your deal, Y/N? You always this easy to read?"
Jake snorts. Leans closer. "Bet she's already soaked just from us looking."
"Shut up," you mutter, but it comes out breathy. Weak.
Heeseung's thumb presses harder. "She is," he says quietly, like it's a fact he's confirming for the group. His other hand reaches up, casual, like he's reaching for more food, and brushes the side of your breast through the tank. The pad of his thumb grazes your nipple. Circles once.Â
You gasp. Small. Involuntary. Sunghoon smirks. "Told you. Instant slut for attention." Jay exchanges a look with Jake, dirty, conspiratorial. They both laugh under their breath.
"Pass her the spicy one," Jake says. "See if she cries."
Heeseung finally pulls his hand from between your legs, only to slide it around your waist instead. Tugs you closer until your side is flush against his bare chest. Skin on skin. Heat on heat. "Eat," he murmurs against your ear. Breath hot. "You're gonna need the energy."
You pick up a piece of chicken with shaking fingers. They watch every bite like it's porn. Sunghoon leans forward. "Question." You meet his eyes. Dark. Unblinking.
"You gonna pretend you're not dripping for us all night, or can we skip the bullshit and get to the part where you spread on the counter?"
Your chopsticks freeze halfway to your mouth. Jake groans softly. "Hyungâ"
"What?" Sunghoon shrugs. "We're all thinking it. She's sitting here with her tits out, clit probably throbbing, acting like she didn't come here to get fucked stupid by four guys who don't even know her last name."
Heeseung's hand slides higher again, this time under your tank. Palm flat against your bare stomach. Fingers splay wide. Claiming territory. Jay licks sauce off his lips. Slow. "Rent-free, remember? That pussy's been ours since you texted back."
Jake's foot slides higher up your calf. "Bet she clenches just hearing that." You do. They know. Heeseung's thumb finds your nipple again, pinches lightly through the fabric. Rolls it.
"Finish eating," he says, voice deceptively gentle. "Then we're gonna show you how we collect rent around here."
The words are disgusting. The way your body responds is worse. You swallow hard. Sauce still sticky on your lip. They wait. Patient. Filthy. Certain. Because they already know, you're not leaving this island until every inch of you is marked.
And the food? It's barely started getting cold. The takeout disappears faster than it should, mostly because your mouth is never empty for long.
Jay keeps tearing off pieces of chicken, dipping them in sauce, holding them to your lips like it's his personal mission to keep you full. His fingers linger every time, brushing your tongue, smearing gloss and grease across your chin until you're sticky and flushed. "Good girl," he murmurs once, low enough that only you hear it, but loud enough that the others smirk.
Heeseung never stops touching. His hand starts at your knee again, then climbs, slow, shameless, until it's high on your inner thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles over the damp cotton of your shorts. When you shift, trying to close your legs, he just spreads them wider with his knee. Casual. Like adjusting furniture. His other hand stays under your tank, palm flat against your stomach, fingers occasionally drifting up to pluck at your nipples like he's testing how hard they can get before you whimper.
They do get hard. Painfully so. The thin fabric does nothing to hide it.
Sunghoon leans back, legs spread, one hand lazily palming himself through his sweats while he watches. "Bet she's clenching every time Jay feeds her," he says, voice dripping. "Like a little hungry bird. Open wide, princess, here comes the next load."
Jake laughs, soft and filthy, leaning so close his breath fans your ear. "You're so fucking cute when you're pretending not to like it, baby. Look at you, your body is begging, thighs shaking. You gonna come just from us looking at you like the slut you are?" He drags his tongue along the shell of your ear. "Say 'please' and maybe we'll let you grind on the stool till you soak it."
You don't say please.
You just swallow another bite Jay pushes past your lips, choke a little when Heeseung's fingers slip under the leg of your shorts and graze the edge of your folds, wet, swollen, traitorous. They all hear the tiny, broken sound you make.
Sunghoon groans. "Fuck. That's the sound I wanna hear when she's choking on my dick later."
Dinner ends like that, messy, humiliating, electric.
When the last container is shoved aside, you mumble something about needing to unpack. Your voice is wrecked. Legs unsteady as you slide off the stool.
Heeseung's hand finally leaves your body, but not before he gives your ass a firm, possessive squeeze. "Go on, sweetheart. Get settled."
Their laughter follows you down the hallway, low, overlapping, knowing. "She's dripping down her thighs, I can smell it from here."
"Bet she locks the door and fingers herself thinking about us."
"Door stays unlocked from now on. House rule."
You shut yourself in the bedroom anyway. Heart hammering. Cheeks burning. Cunt throbbing so hard it hurts. You tell yourself you're just going to unpack. You don't.
The apartment feels smaller now, the air thicker, like the walls themselves are breathing. Youâre still sprawled on the edge of the mattress, knees wide, thin cotton shorts shoved down just far enough that the waistband bites into the tops of your thighs. Your tank top has ridden up under your breasts, nipples stiff and visible through the damp fabric. Two fingers are buried inside you, knuckle-deep, curling, pumping, while your thumb mashes frantic, messy circles over your swollen clit. Every stroke pulls a slick, obscene sound from between your legs. You canât stop. You donât want to stop.
The apartment is quiet for maybe ten minutes. Then you hear it. From the living room, muffled at first, then unmistakable. Low grunts. Wet, rhythmic sounds. Skin on skin. "New roommate's pussy looked so fucking tight," Jake's voice, breathy. "Bet she'd cry if I went in raw."
Jay, rougher: "I'd make her ride me reverse so I could watch that ass bounce while Heeseung fucks her throat."
Sunghoon, colder, meaner: "I'm breaking that little cunt open first. Gonna make her squirt all over the couch before the night's over."
Heeseung's voice cuts through, low, controlled, dangerous. "We're breaking her in slow. Let her think she has control for a day or two. Then we take turns stretching her till she forgets her own name."
More groans. Faster strokes. Someone swears. Someone moans your name, your actual fucking name, like it's already theirs. Your cunt clenches hard around your fingers at the memory. A fresh gush of wetness coats your palm. Youâre dripping onto the sheet now, dark spot spreading beneath your ass. You try to muffle the next whimper by biting the inside of your cheek, but it still leaks out, high and broken.
You come hard. Silent at first, then a choked whimper slips out when your fingers push inside, chasing the aftershocks. Your thighs shake. The bed creaks. The apartment has been dead silent for thirty seconds.
Then, floorboards creak. Not fast. Not rushed. Slow. Measured. One deliberate step after another. Your heart slams against your ribs so violently youâre sure they can hear it through the thin walls. You freeze, fingers still stuffed inside you, walls fluttering helplessly around them. You donât dare pull them out. Donât dare move. Every nerve feels peeled open, raw, screaming.
The footsteps stop right outside your door. You hold your breath. The knob turns. No knock. No warning. The door swings inward on silent hinges. Heeseung fills the frame.
No shirt. Sweatpants slung obscenely low, the thick ridge of his cock still half-hard and outlined against the gray cotton like itâs trying to tear through. A faint sheen of sweat glistens along his collarbones, down the cut of his abs. His hair is wrecked, fingers-raked, damp at the temples. His eyes are black, pupils blown, and the corner of his mouth curls in something that isnât quite a smile. Itâs possession wearing amusement like a mask.
He doesnât step inside. Not yet. He just leans one bare shoulder against the doorframe, arms loosely crossed, and lets his gaze drag over you, slow, deliberate, filthy. From the way your thighs tremble, to the hand still buried in your shorts, to the wet spot darkening the sheet, to your bitten-raw lip and glassy eyes.
âCaught you,â he murmurs. Voice so low it vibrates in your chest. Your fingers twitch involuntarily inside yourself. A tiny, helpless pump. You canât help it. His voice alone is enough to make your cunt spasm. He notices. Of course he notices. His head tilts. âYou didnât even lock the door, baby.â
The endearment lands like a slap and a caress at once. Your mouth opens, maybe to deny, maybe to beg, maybe just to breathe, but nothing comes out except a shaky exhale.
He takes one step forward. The floor creaks under his weight. Another step. Your pulse is in your throat, your clit, your fingertips. Youâre so wet itâs obscene, every tiny shift of your hips makes a slick sound youâre sure he can hear.
He stops at the foot of the bed. Close enough that you can smell him, clean sweat, faint cologne, the dark musk of arousal still clinging to his skin from whatever they were doing out there.
âLook at you,â he says softly. Almost tender. âLegs spread like you were waiting for an audience. Fingers stuffed in that greedy little hole while you listened to us talk about ruining you.â His eyes flick to where your hand disappears into your shorts. âDid you come thinking about Sunghoon splitting you open? Or Jay making you bounce on his cock while I fucked your throat raw?â
You make a sound, half sob, half moan. Your hips jerk up without permission, chasing your own fingers. Heeseungâs gaze darkens. âDonât stop.â
Your breath hitches. âKeep fucking yourself,â he orders, voice dropping into something darker, quieter, more dangerous. âLet me watch how desperate you got listening to us plan all the ways weâre gonna break you.â
Your fingers move before your brain catches up, slow at first, then faster, wetter, louder. The heel of your palm grinds against your clit with every thrust. Your other hand claws at the sheet. Your thighs shake so hard the bed frame rattles. Heeseung doesnât touch you. He just watches.
Eyes heavy-lidded. Breathing slow and controlled while yours comes in ragged little pants. The outline of his cock has thickened again, straining harder against the sweats. A dark spot blooms at the tip. "You were moaning our names," he says, tilting his head. "Heard you clear as day."
You open your mouth. Nothing comes out. He walks closer. Stops at the edge of the bed. Looks down at you, spread, flushed, fingers still glistening.
"First rule of the house," he says, voice velvet and final. He reaches down, grips your chin, tilts your face up so you have to meet his eyes. "If we hear you moaning our names, if you touch that pretty pussy thinking about us, you don't get to come alone anymore."
His thumb drags across your bottom lip, collecting the spit and gloss there. "You finish with one of us inside you. Or on you. Or watching. Your choice."
He leans in until his mouth is a breath from yours. "But tonight?" He smirks, slow, filthy, victorious. "Tonight you go to sleep wet and aching. No more touching. That's rule two."
He straightens. Steps back. "Get some rest, sweetheart."
He turns for the door. Pauses. Looks over his shoulder. "And tomorrow?" His smile is all teeth. "Rent's due."
The door clicks shut behind him. You lie back on the bed, heart slamming, thighs slick, body screaming. You don't touch yourself again. Not because you don't want to. But because you know, he's right outside. And they're all waiting for the next time you break.
Your gasp rips through the dim bedroom like a blade, but itâs not fear that claws up your throat, itâs the raw, electric shock of Jakeâs iron grip clamping around your upper arm, yanking you upright so violently the mattress squeaks in protest. Your eyes fly open to the sight of his wicked grin, teeth flashing white in the pale morning light filtering through half-drawn blinds. The sheets are torn away in one savage sweep, cool air slamming against your overheated skin like a slap. Your thin tank top is already bunched uselessly under your tits, the fabric twisted tight around your ribs, while your tiny sleep shorts have ridden so high they barely cover the swell of your ass cheeks, the crotch seam digging intently into your folds.
âMorning, roomie,â Jake purrs, voice dripping with mock sweetness and pure venom. He drags you out of bed like a ragdoll, your bare feet scrambling for purchase on the icy concrete floor, toes curling against the chill. His free hand instantly mauls your left tit, thick fingers sinking deep into the soft, heavy flesh, squeezing so hard your nipple hardens between his knuckles like a ripe berry. His thumb flicks it once, twice, three times, fast and brutal, like heâs punishing a disobedient little button. Pain blooms hot and sharp, shooting straight to your clit, and you hiss through clenched teeth, back arching involuntarily, pushing your chest further into his greedy palm.
He laughs, low, filthy, delighted, and crashes his mouth against your cheek in a wet, sloppy kiss thatâs all tongue and teeth. The flat of his tongue drags slow and deliberate across your flushed skin, leaving a thick trail of spit that cools instantly. He pulls back with a loud smack, lips shiny, eyes glittering with mischief.
âBreakfastâs waiting, princess. And youâre the main fucking course.â
He hauls you down the hallway, your legs stumbling, tits bouncing freely under the ruined tank, shorts still tangled around one thigh. The living room hits you like a fever dream: thick with the scent of fresh-brewed coffee, printer ink, and the unmistakable musk of four horny men whoâve already been stroking themselves thinking about this exact moment. Jayâs lounging like a king on the massive sectional sofa, legs spread wide in nothing but gray sweats that do nothing to hide the monstrous bulge tenting the fabric, one arm slung lazily over the backrest, the other lazily palming his cock through the material. He doesnât even stand. Just crooks two fingers at you, slow and commanding, a lazy smirk playing on his full lips.
Jake shoves you forward hard. You stumble straight into Jayâs waiting hands, rough, calloused palms gripping your hips like vices, and he yanks you down onto his lap in one fluid, possessive motion. Your bare ass cheeks land flush against the scorching heat of his massive morning wood, the thick ridge of it nestling perfectly between your cheeks through the thin sweats. He groans deep in his chest and rocks up once, grinding his fat cock against you so you feel every throbbing inch, every vein, the blunt head nudging right against your folds like a promise.
âSit pretty for me, slut,â Jay growls hot against the shell of your ear, breath smelling like mint and sin. One thick arm snakes around your waist, locking you down like a seatbelt made of steel. His other hand shoves up under your tank top, claiming your right tit fully, squeezing, kneading, rolling the nipple between rough fingers until itâs swollen and aching. You squirm helplessly, already leaking slick down your thighs, but he just chuckles darkly and pinches harder. âThatâs it. Feel how hard you make me first thing in the goddamn morning?â
Heeseung leans against the kitchen island like a statue carved from ice and hunger, arms crossed over his broad chest, black tank stretched tight across his muscles, sweatpants slung low enough to show the deep V of his hips. His dark eyes drink you in with that calm, terrifying amusement, lips curled in the barest smirk. Sunghoonâs perched on the arm of the couch like a predator in repose, long legs dangling, one hand already shoved inside his boxers, slowly fisting his long, pretty cock, tip flushed angry red, leaking precum in shiny beads that he smears down the shaft with lazy twists.
A single crisp sheet of paper is taped to the stainless-steel fridge, bold black Arial bullet points screaming authority.
Roommate Rules.
Jake claps once, sharp and theatrical, the sound cracking through the room like a whip. âNew roommate orientation, baby! Time to learn the house rules. Stand up, oh wait.â He grins viciously as Jayâs arm tightens, keeping you impaled on his lap, grinding slow circles so the ridge of his cock drags deliciously against your dripping cunt. âNever mind. Stay right there.â
Jay doesnât let you move an inch. Jake rips the paper free and slaps it into your trembling hands. âRead it. Out. Loud. Every word.â
Heeseungâs voice cuts through like velvet over steel. âAnd donât you dare stop.â
Your fingers shake so badly the paper rattles. Jayâs free hand dives straight down, past the waistband of your shorts, two thick fingers spearing into your soaked cunt without mercy, no teasing, no warmup. They curl viciously against your G-spot instantly, pumping in and out with wet, filthy squelching sounds that echo obscenely. Your walls clamp down greedily, sucking him deeper, and you choke on the first syllable.
âR-Rule⊠oneâŠâ Your voice cracks into a broken moan as Jay adds a third finger on the next thrust, stretching you wide, scissoring brutally. âN-No panties⊠in the apartment⊠after 8 p.m. Fuckâahh!â
Sunghoon hums low, shoving his boxers down to his thighs, his long cock springing free, veiny, curved slightly, glistening as he strokes faster, thumb swiping over the leaking slit. âLouder, whore. Let us hear how wet that rule makes you.â
Jake drops to his knees between your spread thighs like heâs worshipping at an altar. He rips your shorts down your legs in one violent yank, tossing them across the room, leaving you completely bare from the waist down on Jayâs lap, pussy lips puffy and shining, clit throbbing visibly. He spreads your thighs wider with both hands, thumbs digging into soft flesh, and leans in. His tongue, hot, flat, and obscene, drags from your dripping hole all the way up to your swollen clit in one long, sloppy stripe. He sucks your clit into his mouth like itâs candy, tongue flicking rapid-fire while Jayâs fingers keep moving.
âRule two,â you sob, hips jerking wildly, trying to ride both sensations at once. âYou⊠sit on someoneâs lap⊠during movie nights, oh god, Jake, pleaseâahh!â
Jake pulls back just enough to spit a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit, watching it drip down to mix with your juices coating Jayâs knuckles. âGood fucking girl. Keep reading while I eat this sloppy cunt like breakfast.â
Your voice is pure wreckage now, high, breathy, broken. âRule three⊠Whoever cooks⊠the others get to fuck you⊠on the counter⊠while dinnerâs in the oven, fuck, Iâm gonnaââ
Jay slams his fingers deeper, adding a fourth, stretching you to the burning limit. Your pussy gushes around him, slick squirting out in messy pulses that soak his sweats and the couch beneath you. The wet sounds are pornographic, schlick-schlick-schlick, loud enough to drown out your whimpers.
Heeseung is stroking himself now, thick, heavy, perfectly shaped, veins pulsing as he strokes slow and controlled, eyes locked on your face like heâs memorizing every twitch of humiliation and pleasure. âAlmost there, sweetheart. Finish it. Then we give you the welcome gift youâve been dripping for since you moved in.â
Jake stands, shoving his shorts down. His cock slaps heavy against his abs, thick, girthy, the head red and angry, already drooling precum in long strings. He strokes himself right in front of your face, the wet sound of his fist mixing with Jayâs fingers destroying your cunt. The tip keeps brushing your cheek, smearing precum across your skin like war paint.
You force the last words out between guttural moans, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaking your face. âFirst⊠official use⊠read the rules out loud⊠while being usedânnngh! And⊠and it ends with all four⊠cumming on your face⊠and tits⊠as welcome gift, please, I canâtâ!â
Silence crashes down for half a second, only the obscene sounds of fingers plunging into soaked pussy and four men stroking their cocks. Then Jay rips his fingers out with a wet pop. You whine pathetically at the sudden emptiness, pussy clenching around nothing, a gush of your own slick dripping down your thighs onto the carpet.
Heeseung steps forward first, voice calm as death. âOn your knees, cumdump.â Jay lifts you like you weigh nothing, strong arms tossing you onto the floor between them. The rough carpet bites into your knees as you kneel, back straight, tits heaving, cunt visibly throbbing and empty. They circle you like wolves, four towering, muscular bodies, cocks hard and leaking, surrounding you in a filthy halo of dominance.
Heeseung speaks, low and final. âWelcome to the house, sweetheart. Open that pretty mouth and take what you earned.â They donât ask permission. They just ruin you.
Jake goes first, groaning loud and theatrical, fist flying as thick, ropey jets of cum erupt across your face. One stripe lands right across your open mouth, coating your tongue in salty heat. Another paints your left cheek, dripping down to your jaw. A third splatters across your forehead, sliding into your hair. He milks every drop, slapping his spent cock against your lips. âSwallow what you can, baby. The rest stays.â
Sunghoonâs next, quiet, intense, eyes dark as midnight. He aims low, long powerful spurts painting your tits in pearly white. Thick globs land on your left nipple, sliding down the curve of your breast like icing. Another heavy rope coats the valley between them, dripping down your stomach. He keeps stroking through it, smearing the head of his cock through the mess on your skin, marking you deeper.
Jay growls your name like a curse, âFuck, look at youââand unloads across the right side of your face. Hot cum hits your cheekbone, your eyelid, your lips, mixing with Jakeâs in sticky rivers that drip off your chin onto your cum-glazed tits. One stray shot lands directly on your tongue and you moan, swallowing reflexively.
Heeseung saves the best for last. He steps closest, tipping your chin up with two fingers so your teary eyes lock onto his. âEyes on me while I paint my new toy.â His strokes stay slow, deliberate, until the first powerful pulse shoots straight across your lips, forcing you to taste him, thick, bitter-sweet, coating your tongue. The next stripes your chest, adding fresh layers over Sunghoonâs mess, dripping off your nipples in heavy rivulets. He keeps coming, pulse after pulse, until your entire face and tits are a glistening, ruined masterpiece of four loads, cum sliding down your body in obscene trails, pooling in the hollow of your throat and between your thighs.
When they finally step back, youâre a trembling, kneeling wreck, face and chest absolutely drenched, lips parted, tongue still out like a good little cumslut, thighs shaking, pussy clenching and dripping onto the carpet in desperate need.
Heeseung crouches, thumb scooping a thick glob of mixed cum from your bottom lip. He pushes it deep into your mouth. âSuck. Clean every drop like the rules say.â You do, hollowing your cheeks, sucking his thumb clean with a wet pop, eyes fluttering as the salty, musky taste of all four of them floods your senses. He smiles, slow, dark, satisfied. âRules are rules, baby.â
Jake laughs, tucking his cock away with a satisfied sigh. âShowerâs down the hall, princess. But we wonât mind if you donât shower today. Or ever again.â
Jay leans down, pressing an almost tender kiss to the top of your cum-matted hair. âWelcome home, roomie.â
Sunghoon just stares, licking his lips as you instinctively drag your tongue across them, chasing every stray drop. âRentâs cheap as fuck now, huh? But you are gonna pay every single day.â
You canât speak, voice wrecked, body owned. But your cunt is already fluttering, aching, dripping for the next rule theyâll break you with. And they know it. They always will.
The rest of the day unravels like a slow, deliberate fever dream, every ordinary second laced with the kind of casual, relentless violation that makes your pulse thunder and your cunt throb like a second heartbeat. You try so fucking hard to pretend itâs just another lazy Saturday. That the thick, salty ghosts of their cum arenât still drying in flaky trails across your tits and cheeks no matter how hard you scrubbed in the shower. That the taste of all four of them, bitter, musky, addictively filthy, doesnât coat the back of your throat every single time you swallow. Â
The shower is a war zone. Scalding water pounds against skin still blooming with faint red handprints and fingertip bruises, steam thick enough to choke on. You soap yourself raw, trying to erase the evidence, but every glide of your own hands over your sore nipples, your swollen clit, your tender skin just reminds you how easily they marked you. When you finally step out, the oversized black tee you pull on clings to your still-damp skin like a surrender flag, hem barely skimming the bottom curve of your ass, nipples already stiff and obvious against the thin cotton, pussy lips puffy and exposed every time you move. No bra. No panties. Itâs not even close to 8 p.m., but the rule is already branded into your brain like a collar. You tell yourself itâs just comfort. Practicality. Not the first step in learning to live with your holes on permanent display.
They let you cling to that lie for exactly twenty-three minutes.
Youâre in the kitchen, stretching up on tiptoes to grab a glass from the top shelf, the tee riding all the way up to expose the full, bare globes of your ass and the slick shine already coating your inner thighs, when the first crack lands.
Jakeâs palm connects with your right cheek like a gunshot, sharp, loud, viciously playful. The sound ricochets off the marble counters. Your whole body jolts forward, glass clattering against the shelf, and a hot bloom of pain explodes across your skin. Before you can even gasp, heâs right there, chest pressed to your back, hips grinding his half-hard cock against the cleft of your ass through his sweats.
âCareful, princess,â he drawls, voice syrupy and mean. Both hands shove up under the tee from behind, claiming your tits like they were built for his palms, squeezing the soft, heavy flesh until it bulges between his fingers, thumbs and forefingers rolling your nipples in tight, cruel pinches that send lightning straight to your clit. âWouldnât want you breaking shit on your first full day. Or maybe we should make you clean it up on your knees.â
You white-knuckle the counter, breath sawing out of you, thighs pressing together uselessly as fresh slick drips down your legs.
Heeseung strolls past like heâs fetching orange juice, not even sparing you a glance, until his arm snaps out mid-stride and his open palm cracks across your left cheek so hard the sting blooms white-hot and immediate. Your knees buckle. He keeps walking, cool as ever, but you catch the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Jayâs waiting when you bend over to grab a yogurt from the bottom drawer of the fridge. The oversized tee flips up completely, baring your dripping cunt and the pink handprints already decorating your ass. His bare foot hooks your ankle, yanking your legs apart with zero warning. Then his hand comes down, once, twice, three brutal, stinging slaps in rapid succession, each one harder than the last, the wet smack of skin on wet skin echoing obscenely. Your pussy clenches visibly with every impact, a humiliating string of slick stretching from your hole to the floor.
âGood reach, roomie,â he mutters, already back to scrolling his phone like he didnât just turn your ass into a throbbing, cherry-red masterpiece. âKeep bending over like that and I might have to test how deep that pretty throat is before dinner.â
Sunghoon doesnât bother with words. He simply appears behind you while youâre loading the dishwasher, hips slamming forward to pin you bent over the open rack, his massive erection grinding slow and filthy between your spread cheeks. One arm bands around your waist, the other shoves under the tee to grope your tits with lazy, proprietary thoroughness, palms rolling the soft mounds like ripe fruit, fingers tugging and twisting your nipples until theyâre swollen, aching peaks. He pinches so hard you cry out, then releases you with a low whistle, walking away like he just checked the mail.
It never stops.
Every single movement is an invitation they cash immediately. Reaching for the remote? Jakeâs fingers plunge between your thighs from behind, two thick digits sliding through your soaked folds just long enough to coat themselves before he pulls away, sucking them clean with a wink. Bending to pick up a dropped spoon? Jayâs palm cracks down again, then stays, middle finger dipping into your cunt, pumping once, twice, curling against your G-spot until your knees shake, then withdrawing with a wet pop and a casual âoops.â Stretching up to dust the top shelf? Heeseungâs mouth finds the back of your neck, teeth grazing, one hand sliding between your legs to flick your clit in rapid, teasing circles until youâre whimpering, then heâs gone, leaving you edged and gasping.
By late afternoon youâre a walking wreck, skin flushed scarlet, ass a lattice of overlapping handprints burning with every step, nipples raw and hypersensitive against the cotton, cunt so swollen and empty it aches like a bruise. Your thighs are shiny with constant slick. Your brain is fogged with need. Youâre trying, failing, to fold laundry on the living room couch when Jake decides heâs done playing.
He doesnât ask. Doesnât warn. He simply drops to his knees in front of you like a man starved for weeks, hooks your trembling legs over his broad shoulders, and buries his face in your dripping pussy with a guttural groan that vibrates straight through your clit.
No warmup. No mercy.
His tongue is everywhere at once, broad, flat, filthy laps from your clenching hole all the way up to your throbbing clit, then sucking the swollen bud between his lips like heâs trying to pull your soul out through it. He alternates, hard, punishing suction that makes your back bow off the cushions, then soft, fluttering licks that leave you sobbing. Two thick fingers spear into you without resistance, curling viciously against that spongy spot inside while his tongue flicks your clit in rapid, relentless strokes. The wet sounds are deafening, your slick gushing around his knuckles, dripping down his chin, soaking the couch beneath you.
You grab fistfuls of his hair, half trying to rip him off, half grinding your cunt against his face desperate for release. âJ-Jake, fuckâtoo muchâahh!â
He growls into your pussy, the vibration making your vision spark white. Three fingers now, stretching you wide, pumping brutally, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit while his tongue spears inside you, fucking you in shallow, messy thrusts. Your thighs clamp around his head like a vice. Your back arches so hard you nearly levitate. The orgasm rips through you like lightning, violent, shattering, squirting messily all over his face as you scream, walls convulsing, vision whiting out completely.
He doesnât stop. He rides you through it, through the aftershocks, through the oversensitive whimpers and the frantic pushing at his head, tongue and fingers relentless until youâre a sobbing, twitching wreck, another smaller orgasm crashing over you before the first even fades.
Only then does he pull back, face glistening, lips swollen, chin dripping with your cum like he just won a war. He climbs up your body slow, caging you against the cushions with his powerful frame, cock heavy and leaking against your thigh through his sweats. Then he kisses you. Not the brutal, claiming way you expect after he just devoured your cunt like a starving animal.
Sweet. Devastatingly soft. His mouth moves against yours like a promise, gentle, coaxing, tongue sliding in lazy, velvet strokes that taste like your own slick and his spit. One hand cups your cheek with shocking tenderness, thumb stroking your jawbone like youâre fragile, precious. The other rests low on your belly, warm, possessive, fingers splayed like heâs claiming the space where his cock will eventually live.
It breaks something in you. Filthy-sweet. Disorienting. Dangerous. When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, breath mingling, eyes half-lidded and shining. âGood girl,â he whispers, so soft it feels like a secret. âTasted so fucking sweet. Could eat this pussy for every meal.â
Then heâs gone, standing, wiping his shiny face with the back of his hand, flashing that boyish, wicked grin like he didnât just ruin you twice in five minutes. You lie there panting, legs still hooked open and shaking, lips tingling, cunt still fluttering and leaking onto the ruined couch. The others donât even pretend to look away anymore.
Heeseung glances over from the armchair, dark eyes gleaming, one brow raised in quiet approval. Jay keeps scrolling, but his free hand is palming the massive bulge in his sweats. Sunghoon licks his lips slowly, deliberately, like heâs already tasting his turn. You yank the tee down over your trembling thighs with shaking hands, trying to catch your breath, trying to remember how to be a person.
The clock on the wall glows 7:42 p.m. Eighteen minutes until the first rule locks in for the night. And every single one of them is watching the seconds tick down with hungry, patient eyes.
The day was ânormal.â
But normal in this house means your body is their favorite toy, teased, slapped, groped, eaten, and edged until youâre dripping and desperate. The night hasnât even started.
The apartment is shrouded in that heavy, post-midnight hush, only the low, constant hum of the AC and the faint, faraway pulse of city traffic bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The clock on the wall glows 12:34 a.m. Your panties have been gone for hours, the rule now a permanent, throbbing law between your legs. Every step you take reminds you: bare, slick, exposed, owned.
Youâre trying to ghost down the hallway like a shadow, bare feet silent on the cool hardwood, oversized tee clutched in one fist to keep the hem from riding up, when Heeseung materializes out of nowhere. His long fingers wrap around your wrist like a steel cuff, firm but not cruel, and he yanks you sideways without a single word. The door to his room swings open, swallows you both, and clicks shut with the finality of a prison gate. The lock engages with a soft, damning thunk.
The second the bolt slides home, the mask drops. Heeseung spins you around and slams you back against the door so hard the wood rattles in its frame. His mouth crashes into yours, teeth clashing, tongues battling, no sweetness, just raw, starving hunger. One big hand fists your hair, yanking your head back so he can devour your throat, sucking bruises into the skin while the other shoves up under your tee and finds your already dripping cunt.
âFuck, youâre soaked,â he growls against your pulse point, two thick fingers spearing straight into you without warning. âBeen walking around all night with this greedy little hole empty? Bad girl.â
You moan brokenly, hips jerking into his hand. He adds a third finger instantly, stretching you wide, scissoring brutally while his thumb grinds hard circles on your swollen clit. Your knees buckle; he doesnât let you fall. Just pins you to the door with his body and finger-fucks you so viciously the sound echoes louder than your gasps.
He rips the tee over your head in one motion, leaving you completely naked. Then heâs spinning you again, bending you over the edge of his massive bed, face pressed into the black silk sheets that smell like him, dark, expensive, masculine. He kicks your legs wider, slaps your ass once, twice, hard enough to make the flesh jiggle and bloom pink.
âLook at this pretty cunt clenching for me,â he snarls, lining up the fat, leaking head of his cock and slamming in to the hilt in one brutal thrust. The stretch burns so good you scream into the mattress. He doesnât give you time to adjust, just grips your hips hard enough to bruise and starts pounding.
Skin slaps skin like thunder. His heavy balls smack your clit with every savage thrust. The bed creaks violently under the assault. He fucks you like heâs trying to split you in halfâdeep, punishing strokes that drag against every sensitive ridge inside you, the thick head battering your cervix on every inward slam.
âTake it,â he grunts, one hand fisting your hair to arch your back, the other reaching around to slap your clit in time with his thrusts. âThis is what you signed up for, roomie. This cunt belongs to the house now, belongs to me tonight.â
Youâre sobbing, drooling onto the sheets, pussy gushing around his cock so loudly itâs embarrassing. He reaches down and spreads your ass cheeks wider, watching his thick shaft disappear into your stretched hole, the creamy ring of your arousal coating every inch.
âFuck, look at that. Greedy little slut sucking me in.â
He pulls out suddenly, flips you onto your back, and hooks your legs over his shoulders. The new angle lets him drive even deeper. His hips snap forward like a machine, relentless, punishing, perfect. Your tits bounce wildly with every thrust. He leans down and sucks one swollen nipple into his mouth, biting hard enough to make you wail, then soothes it with his tongue before moving to the other.
You come first, hard, screaming, walls clamping down on him like a vice, squirting messily around his cock as your whole body seizes. He doesnât slow. Just fucks you straight through it, growling praises and filth into your ear.
âThatâs it, milk my cock, baby. Give me another. Come on this dick again like the house whore you are.â
You do, second orgasm ripping through you even harder, vision whiting out, nails raking bloody lines down his back. Heeseung follows with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt and flooding you with thick, hot ropes of cum, pulse after pulse until itâs leaking out around his cock, dripping down your ass and soaking the sheets.
He stays buried inside you for a long moment, both of you heaving, sweat-slick bodies glued together. Then he pulls out slowly, watching with dark satisfaction as his cum pours from your ruined hole in a creamy waterfall.
But the brutality ends there.
Heeseung rolls off you with surprising grace, chest still rising and falling hard. He sits up, runs a hand through his wrecked hair, then stands, completely naked, still half-hard and shining with your combined mess. You lie there boneless, thighs trembling, cum leaking steadily onto the bed, mind completely blank.
He disappears into the attached bathroom. You hear the faucet run, the soft clink of glass. When he returns, heâs carrying a warm, damp cloth and a small bottle of something. You flinch when he kneels between your spread thighs again, instinct, not fear, but he just shushes you softly.
âEasy, baby.â
The cloth is blissfully warm. He starts at your inner thighs, wiping away the sticky trails of cum with slow, careful strokes. Then higher, between your folds, dabbing gently at your swollen, puffy entrance. You hiss when the fabric brushes your oversensitive clit; he pauses instantly, waiting until you relax before continuing. He cleans every inch of you with the patience of a man whoâs done this before, thorough, reverent, almost worshipful. When heâs satisfied, he sets the cloth aside and pours a small amount of cool, soothing lotion onto his fingers, massaging it gently into the red handprints on your hips, your ass, the bite marks on your breasts.
You can only stare at him, wide-eyed, lips parted, heart hammering in a way that has nothing to do with the orgasms.
Heeseung meets your gaze, those dark eyes steady, unreadable for a heartbeat, then the corner of his mouth lifts in something softer than a smirk. âI may be an asshole, baby,â he says, voice low and gravel-rough from how loud heâd moaned your name, âbut I know how to treat whatâs mine right after I break it.â
He finishes with the lotion, then grabs a clean, fluffy towel from the dresser and drapes it gently over your hips like a blanket. Pulls the black silk sheet up to your waist, tucking it around you with careful hands. Finally, he leans down, brushes sweat-damp strands of hair off your forehead with his knuckles, light, almost sweet, and presses the softest kiss to your temple.
âGet some sleep,â he murmurs against your skin. âYouâre gonna need every ounce of strength for what the rest of them have planned tomorrow.â
He doesnât stay. Just stands, flicks off the bedside lamp with a soft click, and pads out of the room, leaving the door cracked just enough that a thin, golden line of hallway light spills across the floor like an invitation⊠or a warning.
You lie there in the dark, body aching in the most delicious, ruined way, pussy still fluttering with aftershocks, skin tingling from his gentle hands, mind spinning in dizzy circles.
Because he is an asshole. A cruel, rule-making, cum-painting, pussy-destroying asshole. But tonight, for the first time since you moved in, youâre terrifyingly certain thatâs not all he is. And that single, dangerous crack in the armor?
It scares you more than every filthy rule theyâve written on that fridge. Because if Heeseung can fuck you like a toy and then care for you like something preciousâŠ
What the hell are the other three capable of? You get your answer somewhere around an hour after Heeseung leaves.
The apartment has gone quiet, city lights bleeding through the blinds in faint orange stripes, the distant hum of traffic like white noise. Youâre half-asleep in your own bed again, body still humming from earlier, skin too sensitive, mind too full of everything thatâs happened since you walked through the front door. The sheets feel cool against the faint bruises blooming on your hips.
You donât hear the door open. Just feel the mattress dip behind you, slow, careful, like whoever it is doesnât want to startle you awake. Then warmth. Jayâs chest presses to your back, not crowding, not possessive in the usual way. Just⊠there. Solid. His arm slides around your waist from behind, palm flattening low on your stomach. Fingers splay wide, covering as much skin as they can without gripping.
He doesnât speak at first. Just breathes, slow, even, against the nape of your neck. His nose brushes the baby hairs there once, twice. Then his thumb starts moving.
Slow circles. Lazy, deliberate swirls over the soft skin just below your navel. The kind of touch that feels like heâs tracing something fragile. Like youâre made of blown glass, or spun sugar, or something that might crack if he presses too hard.
Itâs nothing like the way theyâve touched you all day. No slaps. No gropes. No mocking whispers or filthy promises. Just this. Quiet. Steady. Almost reverent. You tense for half a second, waiting for the punchline, the shift into something meaner.
It doesnât come. Instead, his lips find the curve where your shoulder meets your neck. Not a kiss. Just a resting place. Warm breath fanning over your skin in time with the slow rub of his thumb. âYou okay?â he murmurs eventually. Voice low, rough from sleep and whatever else heâs been doing in the dark. Not demanding an answer. Just⊠checking.
You donât know what to say. Your throat feels tight. You nod once, small, barely there. His hand keeps moving. Same rhythm. Same gentleness. Circles widening a little, then tightening again, like heâs memorizing the shape of you under his palm.
âTell me if itâs too much,â he says against your skin. âAny of it. Tonight. Tomorrow. Whenever.â
The words hang there, simple, quiet, sincere in a way that doesnât match the asshole roommates who printed rules on the fridge and came on your face like it was a housewarming tradition. You swallow. âIâm⊠okay,â you whisper. Itâs the truth, mostly. The rest is too tangled to name.
He hums once, soft, approving. His arm tightens just enough to pull you closer, back flush to his chest. No grind. No wandering hands. Just holding. The circles donât stop. Slow. Soothing. Like heâs trying to rub the tension out of you molecule by molecule. You feel your breathing start to match his, deeper, slower. The ache between your legs dulls to a low throb instead of a sharp pulse. Your eyelids grow heavy again. Jay doesnât move to leave.
Doesnât push for more. Just stays. Palm warm on your waist. Thumb still drawing those endless, careful circles. Like youâre something worth being gentle with. Even here. Even now. You fall asleep to the rhythm of it, his heartbeat steady against your spine, his breath even against your neck, the soft scrape of calluses on your skin.
And for the first time since you moved in, the apartment doesnât feel quite so dangerous.
Sunlight slices through the half-open blinds in thin, golden bars across your bare back. You wake slowly, first to the sensation of heat, then weight, then the unmistakable press of something thick and heavy sliding past your lips before your eyes are even open.
Heeseung. Heâs already there, kneeling at the edge of the mattress, one hand braced on the headboard, the other cradling the back of your skull with surprising care. His cock is hard, morning wood, thick and flushed, veins prominent under the skin, and heâs feeding it to you slowly, not thrusting, just⊠settling. Like heâs been waiting for you to wake up around him.
Your lashes flutter. A soft, sleepy sound escapes your throat, half protest, half surrender, as your mouth stretches to accommodate him. He doesnât push deeper than you can take. Just holds still once the head bumps the back of your tongue, letting you adjust.
âShh,â he murmurs above you, thumb stroking the hinge of your jaw. âMorning, baby.â
His voice is gravel-rough from sleep, softer than it has any right to be. You blink up at him through damp lashes. Heâs shirtless, hair a wreck, eyes dark but not cruel. Thereâs something almost apologetic in the way he looks down at you, like he knows exactly how many times heâs already used this mouth, this body, in the last forty-eight hours and still canât stop.
You donât pull away. Instead, you flatten your tongue along the underside, hollow your cheeks just enough to make him hiss quietly. His hips twitch once, small, involuntary, then still again.
âGood girl,â he breathes. Not mocking. Quiet. Almost reverent.
Thatâs when you feel the mattress dip on either side. Jake slides in behind you first, warm chest pressing to your back, knees nudging yours apart. His cock, already leaking, slides between your thighs, not inside yet, just rocking slow and lazy along your folds. He kisses the nape of your neck, open-mouthed and gentle, like heâs tasting sleep-warmed skin instead of claiming territory.
âMorning, princess,â he whispers against your ear. One hand slips under you, cupping your breast, not squeezing, just holding. Palm warm. Fingers splayed. Thumb brushing the nipple in slow, soothing circles.
Sunghoon appears on your other side, long limbs unfolding gracefully. He doesnât speak at first. Just watches your face while Heeseung rocks shallowly into your mouth. Then he leans in, presses a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. The gesture is so unexpectedly tender your breath hitches around Heeseungâs length.
Sunghoonâs hand finds your hip. Strokes down the curve of your waist, then back up. Like heâs memorizing every dip and swell. Like heâs sorry for every bruise heâs left there. Jayâs the last to join.
Heâs fully dressed, gray sweats, black tee, hair still damp from a shower, sitting in the armchair across from the bed with a steaming mug of black coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. Vertical hold. Red recording dot blinking steadily.
He doesnât say anything filthy. Doesnât bark orders. Just watches. Sips. The corner of his mouth lifts when your eyes meet his over Heeseungâs shoulder. Not a smirk. Something quieter. Almost fond. âPretty,â he mouths. No sound. Just the shape of the word.
Heeseung starts moving then, slow, shallow rolls of his hips. Never deep enough to choke you. Just enough to fill your mouth, to let you taste the salt and musk of him. Your hands come up instinctively, fingers curling around the base he canât fit, stroking what your lips canât reach.
Jake shifts behind you. Lines himself up. Presses in, slow. So slow. The stretch is lazy, unhurried, like he has all morning to sink into you. When he bottoms out, he stays there. Doesnât thrust. Just grinds in tiny, rolling circles, letting you feel every inch pressed against that spot inside that makes your toes curl.
Sunghoonâs hand slides between you and the mattress. Finds your clit. Circles it with the same gentle pressure Jakeâs using on your nipple. No frantic rubbing. No pinching. Just soft, steady friction that builds slow and syrupy.
You moan around Heeseung, muffled, needy. The vibration makes him groan low in his throat.
âFuck,â he breathes. âThatâs it.â
They move like theyâve rehearsed it. Like theyâve agreed, silently, somewhere in the dark hours after Jay held you last night, that today they wonât break you. Not more than they already have.
Jake rocks into you in time with Heeseungâs shallow thrusts. Sunghoonâs fingers never falter, patient, coaxing. Your body starts to tremble, not from overstimulation, but from the slow, relentless climb theyâre building together.
Jayâs phone stays steady. He tilts it slightly, capturing the way your back arches, the way Jakeâs hand splays protectively over your stomach, the way Sunghoonâs lips brush your shoulder every few seconds like he canât help himself.
Heeseungâs breathing grows ragged first. âGonna come,â he warns, voice strained, almost pleading. âWhere do you want it, baby?â You canât answer with words. Just tighten your lips around him, suck harder, look up at him with wide, glassy eyes.
He swears under his breath. Pulls out at the last second, strokes himself twice, and spills across your tongue in thick, warm pulses. You swallow what you can; the rest drips from the corner of your mouth. Heeseung catches it with his thumb, pushes it back between your lips.
âGood girl,â he whispers again. This time his voice cracks. Jakeâs rhythm falters behind you. His forehead drops to your shoulder. âFuckâcan Iâinside?â
You nod frantically, around Heeseungâs softening cock still resting on your tongue.
He groans, long, low, broken, and buries himself deep. Comes with a shudder that rocks through both of you. Hot. Thick. Filling you until it leaks out around him, down your thighs. He doesnât pull out right away. Just stays seated, grinding lazily through the aftershocks, letting you clench around him like heâs trying to keep every drop where it belongs.
Sunghoonâs fingers speed up just enough, still gentle, still careful, and you come like a wave breaking slow. No scream. No violent shaking. Just a long, trembling release that leaves you boneless, whimpering softly into Heeseungâs thigh.
They donât rush to move.
Jake stays inside you, softening but not leaving. Sunghoon keeps petting your clit through the aftershocks, light, soothing touches now. Heeseung strokes your hair back from your face, tucking strands behind your ear.
Jay finally lowers the phone. Stops recording. Sets the mug on the side table. Walks over. He kneels on the edge of the bed, still fully clothed, and cups your cheek. Thumb swipes away the last trace of Heeseung from your lip.
âYou okay?â he asks quietly. You nod. Eyes heavy. Body humming. He leans down. Kisses your forehead, soft. Lingering. Then he looks at the others. âGroup chat,â he says simply. âSheâs gonna want to see it later.â
Jake chuckles, soft, breathless, against your neck. âSheâs gonna come again just watching.â Sunghoon finally pulls his hand away. Presses one last kiss to your shoulder blade. Heeseung helps ease you onto your side, careful, like you might shatter. Jake slips out slowly, both of you hissing at the loss. Cum leaks immediately, thick, white, obscene. Jay grabs a clean towel from the nightstand, wipes between your thighs with the same gentle care Heeseung used last night.
No one speaks for a minute. Just breathing. Skin cooling. Hearts slowing. Then Heeseung breaks the quiet. âWe were⊠a lot,â he says. Voice rough. Eyes on yours. âYesterday. The day before. If itâs too muchââ
You shake your head before he can finish. Reach up. Curl your fingers around his wrist. âIâm here,â you whisper. âIâm staying.â Something flickers across his face, relief, maybe. Guilt, definitely.
Jayâs hand finds yours. Squeezes once. Jake presses his lips to the back of your neck, soft, apologetic. Sunghoon just watches you. Then leans in. Kisses the corner of your mouth. Slow. Sweet. âBreakfast,â Jay says eventually. âIn bed. No rules for the next hour.â
You laugh, small, wrecked, real. They move like theyâve been given permission to be soft. And for the first time since you moved in, you let yourself believe they might actually mean it. The rest of the day unfolds like something borrowed from another life.
No one touches you. Not in the hungry, claiming way youâve come to expect. No wandering hands under your shirt while youâre making toast. No casual spanks when you bend to pick up a stray sock. No one pins you against the counter or drags you onto a lap. The rules, those printed, obscene bullet points on the fridge, might as well be written in invisible ink for how irrelevant they feel in the soft, lazy hours that follow breakfast.
They just⊠stay.
All four of them orbit you without crowding. The living room becomes this strange, sunlit island: blankets dragged from bedrooms, pillows piled into a makeshift nest on the sectional, takeout containers from last night still scattered like evidence of a truce. Someone puts on music, low-fi beats, nothing aggressive, just enough rhythm to fill the quiet without demanding attention. Jake sprawls across the floor with his head in your lap, scrolling memes on his phone and reading the funniest ones out loud in increasingly ridiculous voices until you snort-laugh and accidentally knee him in the ribs.
âOw, princess, you trying to murder me?â he whines, but heâs grinning, grabbing your hand to press a dramatic kiss to your knuckles before going right back to his phone.
Jay sits cross-legged at the other end of the couch, one of your feet in his lap. He massages your ankle absentmindedly while he argues with Heeseung about whether the new season of some crime drama is trash or genius. Every time you shift, he squeezes your calf once, gentle, grounding, like a silent check-in.
Heeseungâs on the armchair opposite, legs kicked up on the coffee table, nursing the same lukewarm coffee from this morning. He catches your eye every so often and just⊠holds it. No smirk. No heat. Just a small, almost shy tilt of his mouth, like heâs still surprised youâre still here.
Sunghoon is the quietest. Heâs tucked into the corner of the sectional, long legs stretched out, one arm slung over the backrest behind you. He doesnât say much, just watches. Watches you laugh at Jakeâs dumb jokes. Watches the way your shoulders slowly unclench. Watches the way the afternoon light turns your skin gold.
You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every time someone shifts closer, every time a hand brushes your arm or knee, your body tenses on instinct, bracing for the grab, the grope, the inevitable slide into filth. But it never comes.
Instead: Jake starts a pillow fight that lasts exactly thirty five seconds before Jay declares himself referee and tackles Jake into the cushions. Heeseung orders fried chicken and insists on feeding you the first piece, holding it to your lips like Jay used to, but this time thereâs no sauce-smeared thumb, no dirty promise in his eyes. Just a soft âOpen up, baby,â and when you do, he smiles like youâve given him something precious.
Sunghoon eventually migrates closer. Not crowding. Just enough that his thigh presses warm against yours. You glance at him, skeptical, guarded, still half-expecting the mask to slip. He notices. Of course he does. His hand lifts, slow, telegraphing every movement so you can pull away if you want. You donât.
Fingers gentle, he reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingers there, knuckles grazing the shell lightly, before he lets his palm cup the side of your face for half a heartbeat. You freeze. He smiles. Not the cold, cutting one he usually wears. Something smaller. Softer. Almost sad.
âYou are our friend, sweetheart,â he says quietly. His voice is low enough that the others have to strain to hear, but they do. The room quiets around the words like theyâre something fragile. You blink. Throat tight. Sunghoonâs thumb brushes your cheekbone once, barely there.
âWe fucked this up from the start,â he continues, softer still. âWe saw you walk through that door looking like you were ready to bolt at the first wrong move⊠and we made sure every move was wrong. On purpose.â His gaze drops to where his hand still rests against your skin. âThought itâd be easier if you hated us. If you left on your own. If we never had to admit we wanted you to stay for more than justââ
He stops. Swallows. ââfor more than just the easy parts.â The confession hangs there, heavy and unpolished. Jakeâs head is still in your lap; heâs gone unnaturally still, staring up at the ceiling like heâs afraid to interrupt. Jayâs thumb has paused on your ankle.
Heeseung sets his coffee down. Slowly. You look around at them, all four, and for the first time you see it: the guilt. Not performative. Not a tactic. Real. Raw. Sitting under their skin like a bruise theyâve been ignoring. Sunghoonâs hand finally drops from your face, but he doesnât move away.
âWeâre not asking for forgiveness,â he says. âWe donât deserve it. Not yet. But weâre not gonna keep treating you likeââ He exhales through his nose. ââlike youâre disposable. Not anymore.â Silence stretches. Then Jake, sweet, chaotic Jake, breaks it by pressing the softest kiss to the inside of your wrist.
âFriends can still cuddle, right?â he mumbles against your skin. âBecause Iâm not moving. My headâs too comfy.â A tiny, surprised laugh bubbles out of you. Jay squeezes your calf once. âWeâve got time,â he says simply. âNo rush. No rules today.â
Heeseung leans forward, elbows on his knees. âTell us what you want,â he says. âRight now. Anything. Weâll listen.â You look at them, really look. The assholes who printed rules on the fridge. The ones who marked you, used you, laughed while they did it. The ones who just spent an entire day proving they know how to be gentle when they choose to be. You swallow.
âI wantâŠâ Your voice is small at first. Then steadier. âI want to believe you.â Sunghoonâs eyes soften. âThen weâll keep showing you,â he says. âUntil you do.â
Jake nuzzles closer into your lap like a cat claiming territory. Jay resumes the slow massage on your ankle. Heeseung picks up the remote, queues up some mindless comedy youâve all seen a hundred times.
And Sunghoon, quiet, beautiful, regretful Sunghoon, leans in just enough to rest his forehead against your temple. âFriends,â he whispers again. Like a promise.
Like a beginning. The afternoon bleeds into evening. No one fucks you. No one even tries. They just stay. Laughing. Joking. Touching you like you matter. And for the first time since you moved in, you let yourself lean into it.
Just a little. Just enough to see what happens when the rules stop mattering and the people start to.
The apartment feels different when the others are gone, quieter, yes, but not the hollow kind of quiet that echoes off the walls. Itâs softer, warmer, like the whole space exhales once Heeseung, Jay, and Sunghoon finally slip out the door with their jackets half-zipped and promises of âreal foodâ still lingering in the air. Twenty minutes ago they each pressed a kiss to your forehead, Heeseungâs lingering the longest, his thumb sweeping slow circles over your cheekbone as if he still couldnât quite believe you were letting all four of them stay, Jayâs quick and teasing with a wink, Sunghoonâs almost shy, lips brushing your skin like a secret. They told Jake to behave, and the second the door clicked shut behind them, Jakeâs grin turned wicked, golden-retriever energy dialed up to eleven, like the instruction itself was foreplay.
Heâs been orbiting you ever since, turning half-hearted chores into an excuse to stay glued to your side. Youâre folding laundry on the couch, and he keeps âhelpingâ by snatching shirts out of your hands just to hold them up like trophies before tossing them back in a messy pile. In the kitchen he hip-checks you every time you reach for a dish towel, laughing low and bright when you swat at his chest. The late-afternoon sun pours through the big windows in thick golden slabs, catching on the fine hairs of his arms, turning his skin warm and honeyed. Youâre both a little sweaty from moving around, the faint scent of his cologne, something clean, mixing with the laundry detergent and the leftover smell of last nightâs fried chicken still clinging to the air.Â
âYouâre terrible at this,â you say, watching him wrestle a fitted sheet into something that vaguely resembles a rectangle. The elastic corners keep snapping back at him like they have a personal grudge.
Jake flashes that devastating, all-teeth smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. âIâm excellent at distractions. Watch this, baby.â
Before you can protest, he shakes the sheet out with dramatic flair, like a matador taunting a bull, then whips it over both your heads in one smooth motion. The world narrows instantly to white cotton filtered sunlight, the fabric draping around you like a private tent. Youâre both laughing before you can stop it, deep, helpless belly laughs that make your ribs ache and your eyes water. The sheet muffles everything, turning the sound intimate and close. Jakeâs body is right there, heat radiating off him, chest brushing yours with every breathless chuckle. He tugs you deeper under the fabric, arms wrapping loosely around your waist, and suddenly the playful game shifts. His nose nudges yours. You feel the brush of his lashes against your cheek. The laughter fades into something heavier, warmer, the air between you thickening like honey.
âSee?â he murmurs, voice low and rougher now. âMasterclass in procrastination.â
You roll your eyes, but your hands are already sliding up his chest, fingers curling into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You donât push him away. You pull him closer.
The sheet eventually slips to the floor in a crumpled heap, forgotten. You move down the hallway together, the basket of clean clothes balanced on your hip, Jake trailing so close his fingers keep ghosting the small of your back. You bend over to grab a stray sock thatâs escaped onto the floor, nothing exaggerated, just a natural lean, your thin cotton shorts riding up just enough to expose the curve where thigh meets hip. Behind you, Jake sucks in a sharp, punched-out breath, like the sight physically winds him.
You freeze.
His hand settles on your hip, palm broad and hot, fingers spreading wide over the soft flesh through the fabric. Not a slap, not a grope. Just⊠claiming. Resting there with deliberate weight, thumb stroking a slow, lazy circle that makes your skin prickle. You feel every callus on his fingertips, the faint tremble in his touch like heâs fighting the urge to squeeze harder. Heat blooms low in your belly, liquid and slow.
You straighten up slowly, deliberately, and his hand stays glued to you, sliding with the motion so it ends up cupping the full cheek. He turns you around with the gentlest pressure on your hip, like youâre made of glass heâs terrified of cracking. Your back meets the cool wall of the hallway with a soft thud. Jake crowds in immediately, but not aggressively, his body cages you without trapping, one forearm braced beside your head, the other hand still kneading your ass with slow, possessive squeezes that make your breath hitch.
His eyes have gone dark, almost black, pupils blown wide. Not the usual playful hunger. Something deeper. Hungrier. Worshipful.
âHey,â he breathes, voice gravel-rough. âYou good? Still with me?â You nod, small and shaky, because the air has turned thick, syrupy, every inhale dragging like molasses. Your nipples are already tight against your shirt, and you know he can see it. He leans in like heâs giving you every chance to stop him. The first kiss is feather-light, barely a brush of lips, testing, asking. You answer by tilting your head, parting your mouth just enough, tongue flicking out to taste him. Thatâs all the permission he needs.
Jake kisses you like heâs been starving for it since the day you moved in, like every shared glance and late-night movie marathon has been foreplay leading to this exact second. Slow. So fucking slow. His lips are plush and warm, sliding against yours with wet, deliberate pressure. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, tongue tracing the seam until you open wider, then he licks inside, deep, lazy strokes that map every inch of you like heâs memorizing the taste. You moan softly into his mouth and he answers with a low, guttural groan that vibrates straight down to your clit. His hand on your ass tightens, pulling you flush against him so you can feel exactly how hard he already is, thick, heavy ridge straining against his sweatpants, pressing right against your lower belly.
One of his hands cradles your jaw, thumb stroking your cheekbone while the other slides up under your shirt, palm flat and scorching against the bare skin of your stomach. He doesnât rush. His fingers splay wide, stroking up your ribs, tracing the underside of your breasts with reverent touches. When his thumb finally brushes over your nipple, already pebbled and aching, he circles it slowly, pinching just hard enough to make you gasp and arch into him. He swallows the sound, kissing you deeper, tongue fucking into your mouth in filthy, rhythmic strokes that mimic exactly what you wish his cock was doing somewhere else.
Youâre grinding on his thigh now, small, helpless rolls of your hips that drag your soaked pussy along the hard muscle. The thin fabric of your shorts is useless; you can feel how wet youâve gotten, the slickness coating your inner thighs, probably leaving a damp spot on his sweats. Jake breaks the kiss only to drag his open mouth down your jaw, sucking wet, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. He bites down gently, then soothes it with his tongue, leaving faint red marks that bloom under his lips. You tilt your head back against the wall, exposing more of your throat, and he takes full advantage, licking a hot stripe down to your collarbone, sucking hard enough that you know thereâll be bruises tomorrow, little purple galaxies only the four of them will see.
âFuck, you taste so fucking good,â he groans against your skin, voice wrecked. âSweet. Like youâve been waiting for me to do this all day.â
His hand leaves your breast only to slide down, cupping your pussy through your shorts. He doesnât push inside, just rubs the heel of his palm in slow, firm circles right over your clit, feeling how soaked the fabric is. You whimper, hips jerking, and he chuckles darkly into your neck.
âYeah? That feel good, baby? Youâre dripping for me already.â
You canât answer with words, just a broken moan as two of his fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, tracing your slick folds without pushing in, spreading your wetness up to your clit and rubbing tight, teasing circles. Your hands are frantic now, one fisted in his hair, the other palming the thick length of his cock through his sweats, squeezing and stroking him until heâs panting against your mouth, hips twitching like heâs fighting not to rut into your hand.
You kiss for what feels like hours, messy, spit-slick, tongues tangled and sliding. Your lips are swollen and tingling, jaw aching in the best way. He keeps breaking away only to come right back, sucking on your tongue, biting your bottom lip, whispering filthy little praises between kisses.
âSo fucking pretty when youâre desperate like this⊠making those sweet little sounds for me⊠gonna ruin me, baby, you know that?â
Your legs are trembling. He notices, always notices, and presses his thigh harder between yours, letting you ride it properly now, the friction perfect and relentless. His fingers keep working your clit in lazy strokes, dipping just inside your entrance to gather more slick before sliding back up, never giving you enough to come, just keeping you right on the edge, trembling and whimpering into his mouth.
When he finally pulls back, forehead resting against yours, both of you are breathing like youâve run miles, chests heaving, lips shiny and red, his hair a complete mess from your fingers. His eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed, cock throbbing visibly against your palm.
âShit,â he laughs, breathless and shaky. âI didnât mean to⊠fuck, I justââ
You cut him off with another kiss, slow, deep, pouring everything youâre feeling into it. When you pull away, you whisper against his swollen lips, âI know. I wanted it too.â
He smiles, that crooked, boyish, heart-stopping smile, and kisses the tip of your nose, then your forehead, then pulls you tight into his chest. His arms wrap around you completely, one hand still cupping your ass possessively, the other stroking soothing circles up and down your spine. You can feel his heart hammering against yours, his cock still hard and insistent between you, but he doesnât push. Doesnât grind. Just holds you there in the hallway, the distant hum of the fridge and the faint city traffic the only sounds left.
You stay like that for a long, indulgent stretch of minutes, bodies pressed together, breaths syncing, the ache between your legs still pulsing but somehow perfectly satisfied by the simple fact of being wrapped up in him. His lips brush your temple.
âFriends can make out, right?â he murmurs, echoing the joke from earlier, voice warm with affection and something deeper.
You laugh softly against his chest, the sound muffled and content. âYeah, Jake. Friends can definitely make out.â
And for now, for this golden, sun-drenched afternoon, thatâs more than enough. The others will be back soon, but right now the apartment is yours and his, and he just keeps holding you like he never wants to let go.
The hallway still smells faintly of Jakeâs cologne, clean and warm skin, and the soft, powdery scent of laundry detergent clinging to the crumpled clothes you never quite finished putting away. His lips are swollen and glossy from the long, lazy make-out against the wall, cheeks flushed a deep pink, pupils blown so wide the pretty hazel is almost gone. Heâs breathing hard through his nose, forehead pressed to yours like he needs the contact to stay grounded, hands still shoved up under your shirt, palms hot and broad against the small of your back, thumbs tracing slow, idle arcs that make your spine tingle.
âFuck,â he whispers, voice wrecked and soft all at once, raw like heâs been shouting your name for hours even though he hasnât. âI need you on me, princess. Need to feel that pretty pussy sliding down my cock right fucking now.â
The words drop straight into your belly, heavy and molten. You swallow hard, thighs pressing together on instinct, and he feels the tiny clench, grins against the side of your neck, boyish and filthy at the same time.
He doesnât beg. Doesnât grab. Just brushes his mouth over the shell of your ear, hot breath ghosting, voice a low rasp that curls straight between your legs.
âRide me. Please. On the couch. Slow. Let me feel every inch of you taking me like you own it.â
Your cunt throbs at the plea. You nod before you even realize youâre doing it.
Jake laces his fingers through yours, gentle, almost sweet, and leads you back down the hall like youâre going for a Sunday stroll, not about to fuck him stupid in the middle of the living room. The late-afternoon light has shifted, pouring across the big sectional in thick, golden rivers; the cushions are still dented from earlier folding sessions, the air warm and lazy. He drops onto the couch first, sprawling wide, legs splayed, grey sweats already tented, the thick outline of his cock straining against the fabric like itâs trying to escape.
He then hooks his fingers against the edge of your shorts and drags them down, along with your panties. His eyes darken as he gulps and looks up at you.
He pats his thigh once, slow, inviting, eyes locked on yours with that crooked, heart-melting grin.
You donât hesitate. You climb on, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips, and the first slow grind of your bare, soaked cunt against the hard, hot length of him through the thin material rips a twin hiss from both your throats. Youâre dripping, have been since he pinned you to the hallway wall, and the fabric is already darkening under you, slick. Jakeâs hands settle on your hips, not guiding yet, just holding, thumbs stroking the skin right above the waistband of your shorts like heâs memorizing the feel of you.
You start slow. Torturously slow. Tiny, rolling rocks of your hips that drag your swollen clit along the rigid ridge of his cock again and again. The friction is perfect, wet, hot, teasing. Every pass makes the fabric cling tighter, the head of his dick bumping right where you need it. Jakeâs head falls back against the couch, throat working on a low, broken groan, Adamâs apple bobbing.
âGoddamn, baby⊠look at you. Already so fucking wet youâre soaking through my sweats. That little pussy weeping for me.â
You giggle, breathless, giddy, almost embarrassed at how turned on you are, and lean down to kiss him. Soft at first, just lips brushing, then deeper: tongues sliding lazy and messy, tasting the faint salt of his skin and the sweetness of the iced americano he had earlier. His hands slide back under your shirt, palms scalding against your ribs, thumbs circling the undersides of your breasts in slow, reverent strokes until your nipples are tight, aching peaks. He pinches them gently, rolls them between thumb and forefinger, and you arch into his touch with a whimper that makes him smile against your mouth.
âYouâre so fucking soft,â he mumbles between kisses, voice thick. âSo perfect. Been dreaming about this tight little cunt wrapped around me since the second you walked through that door and smiled at all of us like we hung the moon. Gonna let me feel it now, princess? Gonna sit on my cock and ride me nice and slow?â
You lift just enough to shove his sweats down his thighs. His cock springs free, thick, flushed dark, veins standing out, the tip already glistening with a fat bead of pre-cum that streaks down the shaft when you wrap your fingers around him. One slow, firm stroke from base to head has him groaning, hips twitching up into your fist. You line him up, notch the blunt head against your dripping entrance, and sink down.
The first inch is heaven.
You both moan, long, filthy sounds, as he stretches you open, thick and hot and perfect, splitting you so deliciously slow you feel every ridge, every vein. Your mouth falls open, eyes fluttering shut. He bottoms out with your ass flush to his thighs, balls pressed tight against you, and the fullness is so overwhelming your walls flutter around him like youâre already close.
âFuuuuck,â Jake breathes, hands flexing hard on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to bruise. âThatâs it. Take every fucking inch, princess. Look at you, swallowing me like you were made for it. So goddamn tight and wet and perfect.â
You start riding him properly, long, deliberate lifts and sinks, rolling your hips on every downstroke so your clit grinds against his pelvis. The sounds of your cunt taking him echo in the quiet apartment: slick, filthy squelches every time you drop down, his cock glistening with your arousal when you rise. Jakeâs eyes are glued to where youâre joined, watching himself disappear inside you over and over with something like awe.
âListen to that,â he groans, voice cracking. âThat sloppy little sound every time you take me. Youâre dripping down my balls, baby, making such a pretty mess all over me. Gonna stain the couch and I donât even care.â
You bury your face in his neck for a second, flushed and turned on beyond words, then bite down on the skin there, light, teasing. He jolts, cock twitching hard inside you, and groans louder.
âFuck, do that again. Mark me up, princess. Want the others to see who got to have you first.â
You do, sucking a faint pink bloom into his throat while you ride him harder, faster, breasts bouncing under your thin shirt. His mouth finds your nipple through the fabric, sucking hard, teeth grazing, soaking the cotton until itâs transparent and clinging. You cry out, high and needy, hips snapping down faster now, chasing the heat coiling tighter and tighter in your belly.
Jakeâs losing it beautifully, head thrown back, throat exposed, hands gripping your ass and spreading you wider so he can watch every inch of his cock sliding in and out of your greedy cunt.
âShit, ride it harder, baby. Fuck yourself on me. Use my cock like the greedy little slut you are. Come all over it, wanna feel this pussy milk me dry.â
The filthy words spoken in that sweet, reverent tone send you spiraling. You slam down harder, clit grinding relentlessly, thighs burning. He slides one hand between you, thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing fast, firm circles.
âCome on, princess. Give it to me. Soak my cock. Make it messy. Wanna feel you gush.â
You shatter with a broken cry, head thrown back, back arching, clamping down around him in hard, pulsing waves. Your vision whites out. Thighs shake violently. You gush around him, slick flooding out around his base, soaking his balls and the couch beneath you. Jake swears, low and guttural, hips stuttering up once, twice, burying himself to the hilt as he comes, thick, hot ropes of cum painting your walls, filling you so full it leaks out immediately around his throbbing length.
He holds you flush against him through every aftershock, arms banded tight around your waist, forehead pressed to your collarbone, breathing ragged and shaky. You stay like that, sweaty, trembling, his softening cock still buried deep inside you, cum slowly trickling out, while he kisses your shoulder, your neck, the corner of your mouth with soft, lazy presses.
âBest fucking ride of my life,â he mumbles, voice hoarse and sated, nuzzling into your hair.
You laugh, soft, spent, glowing, and nuzzle back. âFriends can do that too, right?â
He chuckles, kissing your temple. âFriends can do whatever the fuck they want.â Youâre still seated on him, his cock twitching occasionally inside your cum-filled pussy, when the front door clicks open.
Neither of you moves fast enough. Sunghoon steps in first, grocery bags dangling from one hand, keys in the other, the faint scent of fresh produce and restaurant takeout wafting in with him. He freezes mid-step. Eyes lock on the scene: you straddling Jake on the couch, shirt rucked up to your collarbones, thighs spread obscenely wide, Jakeâs cock still half-hard and buried inside you, thick white cum already leaking in slow, creamy rivulets down his balls and onto the cushion.
The bags hit the floor with a heavy, forgotten thud. A carton of eggs probably cracks, but no one cares. Sunghoonâs jaw tightens so hard you hear the sharp click of his teeth. His eyes, usually cool and calm, go black, dangerous, glittering with something possessive and furious.
âWhat. The. Fuck.â
His voice is ice wrapped in velvet. Low. Deadly calm. Jake startles, arms tightening around you protectively, but he doesnât dare pull out. Doesnât even try to cover you.
âHyungâwait, itâs notââ
Sunghoon crosses the room in three long strides, towering over both of you. He doesnât yell. Doesnât shove Jake. Just reaches down, grips your chin between thumb and forefinger, firm, not bruising, and tilts your face up to meet his gaze. His thumb drags slow and deliberate across your bottom lip, then presses inside. You suck instinctively, tongue swirling around the digit, tasting the faint salt of his skin.
His eyes flick to Jake, cold as winter.
âGet out from under her. Now.â
Jake hesitates half a second. Sunghoonâs voice drops even lower, lethal.
âI said now.â
Jake lifts you carefully with a wet, filthy sound that makes Sunghoonâs nostrils flare. The moment he slips free, a thick gush of his cum pours out of you, sliding down your inner thighs in white trails. Jake stays seated on the couch, chest heaving as he watches warily.
Sunghoon never looks away from you. He steps closer, one hand sliding to the nape of your neck, thumb pressing right over your racing pulse, while the other grips your hip hard enough to anchor you. âYou let him fuck you the second we walked out the door?â he murmurs, voice velvet and venom, lips brushing your ear. âSpread this pretty pussy for whoever was home first? Without waiting for me? Without even texting?â
You shake your head, small, instinctive, breath caught in your throat. âNo?â
He leans in closer, breath hot against your skin. âThen why the fuck are you stuffed so full of him, hmm?â
Two of his long fingers dip between your thighs without warning, sliding deep into your cum-slick cunt with a wet squelch. You gasp, knees buckling. He curls them slowly, deliberately, scissoring, feeling the warm, sticky mess Jake left behind, pushing it deeper before dragging it out again. When he pulls his fingers free theyâre coated thick and white. He holds them up between you, shiny, dripping, then brings them to your mouth.
âClean.â
You open obediently. Suck his fingers clean, tongue swirling, tasting yourself and Jake and the faint metallic tang of Sunghoonâs skin, moaning around them while he watches with dark, unblinking eyes.
âGood girl,â he praises, voice low and rough. Then, suddenly, he yanks you forward by the neck and kisses you, hard, possessive, teeth clashing, tongue fucking into your mouth like heâs erasing every trace of Jakeâs kisses. When he pulls back his lips are wet, eyes blazing with jealousy and hunger.
âBedroom. Now.â
He doesnât wait for you to walk. Just scoops you up like you weigh nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his neck, cum still dripping down your thighs and onto his shirt. Jake scrambles up and follows, sweats tugged up haphazardly.
Sunghoon kicks the bedroom door shut behind the three of you with a bang that rattles the frame. He drops you onto the bed, gentle enough not to hurt, rough enough that you bounce, thighs splaying open automatically. He looms over you, tall and broad and radiating controlled fury.
âStrip. Everything off. Let me see exactly what he got to play with while I was gone.â
You obey instantly, tugging your shirt over your head, shoving your shorts down, kicking them aside until youâre completely bare, pussy puffy and glistening.
His gaze rakes over every inch of you, slow, possessive, furious, hungry. He licks his lips. âYouâre mine tonight, princess. All fucking mine. And youâre going to feel exactly who this cunt belongs to until you canât remember anyone elseâs name.â
He glances at Jake, standing frozen by the door, eyes wide and cock twitching in his sweats.
âYou can watch,â Sunghoon says coldly, voice like a blade. âBut you donât touch. Not until I say so. You sit there and watch me take back whatâs mine.â
Jake swallows hard. Nods once. Sinks into the chair in the corner, hand already palming himself through his sweats like he canât help it.
Sunghoon turns back to you. Grabs your thighs in both hands and spreads them wide, wide enough that your folds spread, dripping. He lowers his head slowly, eyes locked on yours the entire time.
The first long, vicious swipe of his tongue through your folds is punishing, hot, wet, claiming, licking every drop of Jakeâs cum straight out of you like heâs erasing the evidence. You arch off the bed with a sharp cry, hands flying to his hair. Sunghoon doesnât stop. He eats you like a man starved, tongue fucking deep inside your cum-filled hole, sucking noisily, swallowing every filthy mix of you and Jake with low, possessive growls that vibrate straight to your clit. He sucks your swollen folds into his mouth, tongue flicking mercilessly over your clit, then dives back in to lap at the creamy mess still oozing out of you.
Youâre moaning, loud, broken, shameless, hips grinding against his face while he devours you, chin and lips shiny with cum and your fresh slick. He pulls back just long enough to growl against your thigh,
âGonna lick every last drop of him out of this pussy until it only tastes like me. And then Iâm going to fuck you so deep youâll still feel me tomorrow when the others take their turns.â
His mouth seals back over your clit, sucking hard, two fingers plunging deep, and the jealousy is only just beginning.
The bedroom is thick with the sounds of Sunghoonâs mouth devouring you, long, filthy drags of his tongue through your cum-slick folds, sucking Jakeâs release out of your fluttering hole like heâs personally insulted by every drop. Heâs relentless, humming low against your clit, two fingers curled deep inside you, scissoring and stroking that spongy spot that makes your thighs quake around his ears. Your back is arched off the bed, hands fisted in his dark hair, moans spilling out broken and shameless as another orgasm teeters right on the edge.
Then the door bangs open.
Heeseung fills the frame like a storm cloud, broad shoulders tight, jaw locked, one hand fisted in the back of Jakeâs t-shirt. Jake looks wrecked already: lips kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed crimson, cock still half-hard and shiny with your slick, the cocky little grin from earlier completely wiped away. Heeseung doesnât even glance at you at first. His voice is low, calm, the kind of calm that makes the air feel heavier.
âLiving room. Now.â
Jake opens his mouth, probably to whine, to joke, to try and charm his way out of it, but Heeseungâs grip tightens, fabric stretching across Jakeâs shoulders. Jake stumbles forward instead, casting one last wide-eyed look at you before they disappear down the hall. The living-room door shuts with a soft, deliberate click that somehow feels louder than a slam.
Youâre left panting, chest heaving, Sunghoonâs tongue still lazily circling your clit like the interruption was nothing more than background noise. He presses one last open-mouthed kiss to your dripping pussy, then pulls back slowly, lips glossy, chin glistening with a messy mix of you and Jake. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, slow and deliberate, eyes dark and glittering with dark amusement as he rises to his knees between your spread thighs.
âLooks like someone earned himself a timeout,â he murmurs, voice velvet-rough, thumb brushing a lazy stripe up your inner thigh to collect the fresh slick still leaking out of you. His gaze flicks toward the hallway, then back to your flushed, trembling body. âGuess that leaves the three of us to remind you exactly how this works, princess.â
Jay appears in the doorway a heartbeat later, arms crossed over his chest, shoulder propped against the frame, eyes raking over you with that cool, assessing hunger that always makes your stomach flip. He takes his time stepping inside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet snick, the lock clicking into place like a promise.
You try to push yourself up on your elbows, instinct, nerves, the sudden awareness of how exposed and messy you are, but Sunghoonâs large hand plants flat on your sternum and pushes you right back down into the mattress. Firm. Unyielding. Possessive.
âStay right there,â he says softly, almost sweet, but the edge underneath it makes your cunt clench around nothing. âWeâre not done with you yet.â
Jay stops at the foot of the bed, looking down at the obscene picture you make: completely naked, skin flushed pink, thighs shiny with slick and cum, nipples tight and begging, pussy puffy and still leaking. He reaches out, fingers threading through the hair at your scalp, tightening until your breath hitches. He yanks your head back just enough to expose the long line of your throat, thumb stroking once over your racing pulse.
âYou let him fuck you raw the second we left,â Jay says, voice low and dangerously even. âWithout asking. Without waiting. Without even a text to let us know our pretty little slut was getting her cunt filled.â
His free hand slides down your body, possessive, claiming, cupping your soaked pussy like it belongs to him. Two thick fingers push inside without warning, rough and deep, curling hard against that spot that makes white sparks burst behind your eyes. You cry out, hips jerking, walls fluttering greedily around the intrusion.
Sunghoon watches with a mean little smile, one hand lazily stroking his own thick cock. âThis pussy,â Jay continues, voice dropping to a growl as he pumps his fingers faster, âis ours. All of ours. You donât get to decide who fills it first when weâre not here. Understand?â
You nod frantically, tears of overwhelming pleasure already pricking your eyes. âY-yesâfuckâyes, itâs yoursââ
Sunghoonâs hand replaces Jayâs on your throat, long fingers wrapping around the column, squeezing just enough to make the edges of your vision sparkle and your cunt gush around Jayâs fingers. Not cutting off air. Just reminding you whoâs in control.
âGood girl,â Sunghoon breathes against your ear, leaning down to bite your earlobe. âNow prove it.â
They move like theyâve choreographed this a hundred times in their heads.
Jay flips you onto your stomach in one smooth motion, face pressed into the sheets that already smell like sex, ass up high, back arched deep. He keeps one hand fisted tight in your hair, yanking your head back until your spine bends in that perfect, aching curve. Sunghoon shoves your thighs wider apart, knees sinking into the mattress as he kneels behind you. His cock is flushed dark, angry, veins throbbing, pre-cum beading at the tip as he lines up and slams in, deep, brutal, one single punishing thrust that punches the air straight out of your lungs.
You scream into the sheets, the stretch burning so good it borders on too much. Sunghoon doesnât give you time to adjust. He sets a ruthless pace immediately, hips snapping forward, balls slapping wetly against your clit with every brutal drive, the wet squelch of your cum-filled pussy echoing obscenely. Jay releases your hair only to wrap his hand around your throat from the front instead, squeezing in perfect time with Sunghoonâs thrusts, thumb pressing under your jaw so you feel every heartbeat.
âTake it,â Jay growls, voice rough with arousal. âEvery fucking inch. You wanted cock so bad you couldnât even wait for all of us? Then youâre gonna take everything we give you, princess. Gonna let us ruin this greedy little hole until you remember who it belongs to.â
Sunghoon leans over your back, chest slick with sweat against your spine, one hand fisting your hair now while the other reaches around to slap your clit, sharp, stinging little taps that make you clench and sob. Jayâs free hand comes down hard on your ass, once, twice, three times, each smack leaving a bright red handprint that blooms hot across your skin.
âWhose pussy is this?â Jay demands, voice low and filthy.
âYoursââ you sob, voice cracking. âYoursâfuckâyoursâSunghoonâJayâpleaseââ
Sunghoon yanks your head back harder, lips brushing your ear as he pounds into you. âSay it louder. Let the whole fucking apartment hear who owns this cunt.â
The rhythmic slap of skin on skin, your choked moans, Sunghoonâs low possessive growlsââThis tight little pussy is fucking mineââcarry clearly down the hallway.
In the living room, Heeseung has Jake pinned against the wall by the collar, fist raised, knuckles white with restraint. The first muffled scream from the bedroom makes them both freeze. Then another, higher, broken, needy. The unmistakable wet slap of Sunghoonâs hips. Jayâs dark chuckle. Your desperate, gagged whimpers around whatever theyâre doing to your mouth now.
Heeseungâs fist slowly lowers. Jakeâs eyes go wide, cock twitching visibly in his sweats.
Heeseung turns toward the bedroom door, expression unreadable but eyes burning.
Then theyâre both moving, fast.Â
They burst through the door just as Sunghoon buries himself to the hilt with a guttural groan. Youâre a complete wreck: face down, ass up, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth, tears streaking your cheeks, ass glowing red from Jayâs handprints, cunt stretched obscenely around Sunghoonâs thick cock, creamy cum from Jake and your own slick coating your thighs.
Heeseung stops at the foot of the bed, takes one long, possessive look at the scene, then climbs on without a word.Â
âMove,â he tells Sunghoon, voice low and lethal.
Sunghoon slows just enough to pull out with a wet, filthy pop, thick strings of cum and slick connecting his cock to your gaping hole. Heeseung grabs your hips, flips you onto your back like you weigh nothing, and hooks your legs over his arms, folding you in half until your knees are by your ears. He lines up and slams in, harder, deeper, angrier than Sunghoon, bottoming out in one brutal thrust that makes you scream his name.
Jay pulls back from where heâd been feeding you his cock, letting you gasp for air, then moves behind you. Sunghoon shifts to your side, hand wrapping around your throat again, thumb stroking your pulse almost tenderly now.
Jay presses the blunt head of his cock against your ass, already slick from the mess dripping down, and pushes in slow, relentless, the burn intense and overwhelming as he stretches you open around him. Heeseung stays buried to the hilt in your pussy, holding perfectly still while Jay sinks deeper, until both of them are fully seated inside you, rubbing against each other through the thin wall, filling you so completely you can feel them in your throat.
Youâre sobbing, overwhelmed, stretched to your limit, pleasure so sharp it hurts, in the best possible way.
âBreathe, baby,â Sunghoon murmurs, voice softer now, fingers loosening just enough on your throat. âYouâre taking us so fucking well. Such a good girl for us.â
They start moving, slow at first, testing, letting you adjust to the impossible fullness. Then harder. Deeper. Alternating thrusts, Heeseung driving in while Jay pulls out, Jay slamming home while Heeseung retreats, until the rhythm syncs and theyâre both fucking into you at the same time, stretching you open on two thick cocks with every synchronized thrust.
Jake stands frozen by the door, cock rock-hard again, hand wrapped tight around it, stroking himself slow and desperate, eyes wide and glassy with guilt and raw arousal. Sunghoon notices. His voice cuts through the wet sounds of flesh. âWatch, Jake. You started this. Now you get to watch how we remind her exactly who she belongs to.â
Jayâs fingers find your swollen, oversensitive clit, rubbing fast, rough circles that make your vision spark white.
âCome,â he orders, voice rough. âCome on both our cocks. Milk us. Show us who this perfect body belongs to.â
You shatter harder than you ever have, screaming, back bowing, spasming violently around both cocks, gushing slick down Heeseungâs shaft as your orgasm rips through you in endless waves. Heeseung comes first with a deep, broken growl of your name, flooding your pussy with hot, thick pulses. Jay follows seconds later, burying himself deep in your ass and filling you with rope after rope until it leaks out around his base. Sunghoon strokes himself twice, fast and rough, then spills across your stomach and tits in long, creamy stripes, marking you visibly.
They donât pull out right away.
Just stay buried deep inside you, panting, sweating, chests heaving, holding you between them like something precious and thoroughly, beautifully ruined.
Heeseung leans down first, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your tear-streaked cheek. âMine,â he whispers against your skin.
Jay echoes it against your shoulder, lips brushing the fresh bite mark Sunghoon left earlier. âMine.â
Sunghoonâs fingers loosen completely on your throat, turning into gentle strokes along your jaw. âMine too, princess. Always.â
Youâre trembling, wrecked, full to overflowing, claimed in every possible way. And Jake, still standing by the door, cock leaking in his fist, eyes shiny with regret and desperate need, looks like heâs never wanted forgiveness more in his life.
The entire room smells like sex and sweat and something deeper, something dangerously close to devotion. None of them move to let you go. Not yet.
The room is thick with the aftermath, sweat, sex, the faint metallic tang of overstimulation hanging in the air like smoke. Your body feels liquid and heavy, every muscle spent, every inch of skin marked in some way: fingerprints blooming on your hips, faint red lines from Sunghoonâs grip on your throat, the slow leak of them all still inside you, warm and obscene between your thighs.
No one moves right away.
Heeseung is the first to shift. He eases out of you carefully, slow, deliberate, hissing softly at the drag. Jay follows, pulling out with the same measured gentleness, both of them watching your face for any flicker of pain. Sunghoonâs hand leaves your throat last, fingers trailing down your sternum in a soothing path before he sits back on his heels.
Youâre trembling, small, involuntary shivers that ripple through you like aftershocks. Jay notices first. He reaches over the side of the bed, grabs the soft throw blanket thatâs been kicked to the floor sometime in the last hour. Drapes it over your lower half, tucking it around your waist like heâs wrapping something fragile.
âEasy,â he murmurs. Voice low, rough from use. âWeâve got you.â
Heeseung slides off the bed, still naked, still glistening, and disappears into the en-suite bathroom. Water runs. A minute later he returns with two warm, damp cloths. One for your face, one for between your legs.
He kneels beside you. Presses the cloth to your cheek first, gentle swipes over tear tracks, then your swollen lips. You lean into it without thinking. Heeseungâs free hand cups the back of your head, thumb stroking the base of your skull in slow circles.
Sunghoon moves to your other side. Takes the second cloth from Heeseung when heâs done with your face. Parts your thighs carefully, murmurs a soft âshhâ when you flinch at the cool air, and cleans you with careful strokes. Between your folds, down your thighs, over the sticky mess on your stomach and chest. Heâs thorough. Patient. Every pass of the cloth feels like an apology he doesnât know how to say out loud.
Jake is still hovering near the door, shirtless now, sweats low on his hips, looking like heâs not sure heâs allowed to come closer. Heeseung glances at him once. Sharp. Then softer.
âWater,â Heeseung says. Not an order. Just a word. Jake nods, quick, grateful, and bolts. Heeseung turns back to you.
âCan you sit up a little?â You nod, weak, but willing. Jay helps, arm around your shoulders, easing you against the headboard. Pillows get rearranged behind your back until youâre propped comfortably. The blanket stays tucked around your waist; someone (Sunghoon) pulls the sheet up to cover your chest without smothering you.
Jake returns with a tall glass of water and, somehow, a small tray he must have grabbed from the kitchen. On it: a bowl of cut fruit (strawberries, mango, grapes, someoneâs idea of ârecovery foodâ), a few pieces of the chocolate they keep stashed in the fridge, a packet of electrolyte powder already stirred into a second glass.
He sets it on the nightstand. Doesnât try to climb on the bed yet. Just stands there, hands in his pockets, looking at you like you might vanish if he blinks.
Jay picks up a strawberry first. Holds it to your lips.
âOpen.â
You do. The fruit is cold, sweet, bursting on your tongue. Jay feeds you slowly, another strawberry, then a piece of mango. His fingers brush your bottom lip each time, wiping away juice with his thumb.
Sunghoon takes over with the chocolate. Breaks off a small square, places it on your tongue. Watches you melt it slowly, eyes dark but soft.
âYou did so good,â he says quietly. Almost to himself. âTook everything we gave you.â
Heeseung handles the water, holds the glass to your lips, tips it carefully so you can sip without spilling. When youâve had enough, he sets it aside and wipes your mouth with the edge of the sheet.
Jake finally moves closer, slow, like heâs approaching something skittish. He perches on the very edge of the mattress.
âIâm sorry,â he says. Voice small. âFor earlier. For not waiting. Forââ Heeseung cuts him off with a look. Not angry. Tired.
âLater,â Heeseung says. âShe needs rest now.â Jake nods. Swallows hard. Jay reaches over, squeezes Jakeâs shoulder once, firm, forgiving, then turns back to you.
âMore?â he asks, nodding at the tray.
You shake your head. Full. Heavy-lidded. The ache between your legs has dulled to a low, satisfied throb; your limbs feel like warm honey.
Sunghoon takes the tray away. Sets it on the dresser.
Heeseung pulls the covers up higher, tucking them around your shoulders, smoothing the fabric over your chest. Jay adjusts the pillows again so youâre lying flat but elevated just enough. They surround you, four bodies, four sources of warmth, without crowding.
Heeseung lies on your left. Arm draped loosely over your waist. Not possessive. Protective. Jay on your right. Hand resting on your hip under the blanket. Thumb stroking idle arcs. Sunghoon stretches out at the foot of the bed, long legs hanging off the edge, head pillowed on your thigh like itâs the most natural place in the world.
Jake curls up against your legs, face tucked into the crook of your knee, one arm thrown over your shins like heâs anchoring himself there. No one speaks for a long minute. Just breathing. Slow. In sync.
Heeseungâs fingers find yours under the blanket. Laces them together. Squeezes once. âSleep,â he murmurs against your temple. âWeâre not going anywhere.â
Jay presses a kiss to your shoulder, soft, lingering. Sunghoonâs hand strokes down your calf, slow, soothing.
Jake mumbles something sleepy against your skin, too quiet to catch, but it feels like âthank you.â Your eyes flutter closed. The room smells like them, all of them, mixed with clean sheets and the faint sweetness of fruit. Just warm bodies. Gentle hands. Quiet promises. And the steady rhythm of four heartbeats lulling you under.
The idea starts innocently enough.
Itâs been three days since the jealousy the three had that they claimed was just âheat of the momentâ but you knew better, and the apartment has settled into something dangerously close to domestic. Mornings are soft now, coffee passed hand-to-hand, lazy kisses traded over toast, rules quietly ignored unless someoneâs feeling particularly mean. The fridge note is still taped up, but no oneâs enforced them. Itâs almost⊠normal.
Almost. Jay is the one who brings it up first. Youâre sprawled across his lap on the sectional Sunday afternoon, legs tangled with Sunghoonâs, Jakeâs head pillowed on your stomach while Heeseung scrolls through takeout apps from the armchair. Jayâs fingers are tracing idle patterns on your bare thigh, higher than friendly,lower than any action, when he says it.
âI want to take you out.â
The room stills. You lift your head from Jakeâs hair. âLike⊠a date?â Jayâs mouth quirks. âYeah. A date. Just you and me. Dinner. Somewhere nice. No roommates crashing.â
Sunghoon snorts without looking up from his phone. âGood luck with that.â
Heeseung glances over the top of his screen. âYouâre asking permission?â
Jay shrugs. âIâm telling you. Friday night. Sheâs mine for the evening.â
Jake sits up slowly, blinking sleep from his eyes. âWaitâsolo? Like, no sharing?â
Jayâs hand tightens on your thigh. âNo sharing. One night. My rules.â
You feel the shift immediately, the air thickening with something possessive and unspoken. Heeseungâs jaw ticks once. Sunghoon finally looks up, eyes narrowing. Jake just pouts. But no one argues. Friday comes fast.
Jay picks the restaurant himself, small, upscale Italian place downtown. Dim lighting, velvet booths, candles that cost more than your old rent. He texts you the address at 6:45 p.m. sharp.
Jay: Wear something pretty baby ;) preferably no panties sweetheart
You roll your eyes at the winky face and the last obligation, but you obey anyway.
The dress is black, silk, short enough to make you nervous when you sit. Heels that click satisfyingly on the pavement. Hair down, lips red. When Jay arrives to pick you up, he stops dead in the doorway.
âFuck,â he breathes. Steps close. Cups your face with both hands and kisses you slow, deep, claiming, tasting like mint and want. âYouâre killing me.â
The drive is quiet. His hand rests high on your thigh the whole way, thumb stroking the inside seam, never quite reaching where youâre already wet. He doesnât speak. Just smiles every time you squirm.
The restaurant is perfect.
A corner booth. Wine list thicker than a novel. Jay orders for both of you, pasta, seared scallops, tiramisu for later. His knee presses against yours under the table. His fingers brush yours when he passes the bread. It feels⊠romantic. Normal. Like youâre a real couple on a real date.
Youâre laughing at some stupid story heâs telling about Sunghoon trying to cook once when the first text comes through.
You snort. Show Jay. He rolls his eyes. âIgnore them.â
Another buzz.
Sunghoon: timestamped selfie, him shirtless in the kitchen, knife in hand, looking bored Â
Sunghoon: hurry up. foodâs getting cold here
Jay exhales through his nose. âTheyâre children.â Heeseungâs text is last.
Heeseung: Enjoy your date. Weâll behave. Â
Heeseung: âŠmostly.
Your not sure what that means, youâre not sure if you want to find out. You laugh, soft, nervous, and slip your phone face-down. Jay reaches across the table. Takes your hand. Laces your fingers. âI meant it,â he says quietly. âTonightâs just us. No crashing. No rules. Just you and me.â
You believe him. For about seven more minutes. The scallops arrive. Perfectly seared. Youâre mid-bite when the restaurant door opens. And four familiar silhouettes step inside. Jake first, grinning like he invented mischief. Sunghoon behind him, hands in pockets, expression unreadable. Heeseung last, calm, collected, scanning the room until his eyes land on you.
Jayâs fork pauses halfway to his mouth.
âMotherfuckers,â he mutters.
They donât hesitate. Jake slides into the booth beside you first, arm slung casually over the backrest, fingers immediately finding the nape of your neck. âHey, princess. Fancy seeing you here.â
Sunghoon takes the seat next to Jay, long legs stretching out, forcing Jay to shift. âNice place. Bit pretentious, though.â
Heeseung pulls up a chair from a nearby table, unapologetic, sits at the end like he owns the booth. âWe were in the neighborhood.â
Jayâs jaw is so tight youâre worried itâll crack.
âYou said you would behave.â
Heeseung shrugs. âWe are. Weâre not fucking her on the table. Yet.â
Your face burns. Jake laughs, bright, delighted, leans in and kisses your cheek. Loud. Wet. âYou look so pretty. Red lipstickâs a nice touch.â
Sunghoon reaches across Jay to steal a scallop off your plate. âHeâs right. You do look fuckable.â Jay slams his fork down.
âThatâs enough.â The table goes quiet.
Jayâs voice is low. Dangerous. âI said one night. Just me and her. You had your turns. Back off.â
Heeseung leans forward. Elbows on the table. âWeâre not here to take her. Weâre here to watch you try to have her all to yourself.â His gaze flicks to you, dark, heated. âAnd see how long it takes before sheâs begging for the rest of us.â
Jakeâs fingers tighten on your neck. âCâmon, hyung. Donât be dramatic. We can share the appetizer.â
Sunghoon smirks. âOr the main course.â
Youâre throbbing under the table. The silk dress feels too tight. The wine too warm in your veins. Jay looks at you, really looks. âAre you okay with this?â
You swallow. Meet his eyes. Then glance at the others. Then back to him. âIâm okay,â you whisper. âBut⊠maybe we skip dessert here.â
Jay exhales, half-laugh, half-snarl. âBathroom,â he says. âNow.â He stands. Pulls you up with him. The others donât move. They just exchange knowing glances. Jake just grins. âWeâll keep watch.â
Jay drags you through the restaurant, hand firm on your lower back, past the bar, down the narrow hallway, into the single-stall bathroom at the end.
He locks the door. Spins you around. Pushes you forward until your palms slap the sink. The mirror is huge. You watch your own reflection, lips parted, chest heaving, dress already rucked up to your hips.
Jayâs behind you, fly open, cock hard and leaking. He doesnât speak. Just yanks your dress higher, notches himself at your entrance, and thrusts in, hard. Deep. One brutal stroke that makes you cry out.
âQuiet,â he growls against your ear. Hand clamps over your mouth. âThey can hear.â He fucks you like heâs proving a point. Fast. Rough. Hips snapping. The sink rattles. Your tits bounce with every thrust. His other hand fists your hair, yanks your head back so youâre watching yourself in the mirror.
âLook at you,â he pants. âTaking it so good. Even when they crash. Even when I try to keep you to myself.â
You moan into his palm, muffled, desperate.
He reaches around. Finds your clit. Pinches. Rolls. Hard.
âCome,â he orders. âCome on my cock before they barge in.â
You do, fast, violent, clenching around him so hard he swears. He follows seconds later, burying deep, spilling hot inside you with a choked groan.
He doesnât pull out right away. Just holds you there, chest to your back,breathing ragged. Then he kisses your shoulder. Soft. Apologetic. âSorry,â he murmurs. âCouldnât help it.â You laugh, shaky, wrecked.
He pulls out slowly. Fixes your dress. Wipes between your thighs with paper towels from the dispenser. When you open the door, Jakeâs leaning against the opposite wall. Arms crossed. Smirking. âTook you long enough.â
Jay glares. Jake pushes off the wall. Steps close. Kisses you, quick, filthy, tasting Jay on your tongue. âMy turn to watch the door,â he says. âGo wait in the car. Round twoâs on us.â
Jay takes your hand. Leads you out, past the hostess who definitely knows what just happened, into the cool night air.
The car is parked in the back lot, tinted windows, engine already running. Sunghoonâs in the driverâs seat. Heeseung in the passenger. Both turn when you climb in the back. Sunghoonâs eyes drop to the wet spot on your dress. Smiles, slow, predatory.
âMissed the show?â Heeseung reaches back. Pulls you onto his lap. âPlenty of time for round two,â he murmurs against your neck. Jay slides in beside you. Jake climbs in last, locks the doors. The engine starts. And the night? The night is far from over.
The black SUV idles in the shadowed back lot behind the restaurant, engine a low, steady rumble beneath the distant pulse of music leaking from the outdoor speakers. Tinted windows seal the interior into a private world, leather seats already radiating warmth, the air heavy with Jayâs cologne, the sharp bite of expensive whiskey on their breath, and the unmistakable, intimate musk of sex that still clings to your skin.
Youâre straddling Heeseung in the center of the back seat, silk dress shoved up around your waist, thighs spread wide over his hips. His dark jeans are damp where your leaking cunt has pressed against him. Heeseung doesnât flinch. His hands are beneath the fabric, broad palms cupping your bare ass, fingers spreading you open with deliberate care, holding you exposed and vulnerable in the dim glow filtering through the windows.
Jay sits to your left, shirt untucked, collarbones still flushed, lips swollen and red from the way heâd fucked you against the marble sink in the bathroom minutes earlier. Sunghoon occupies the right side, long legs stretched out, one hand already working the thick outline of his cock through tailored slacks, eyes fixed on the sight between your thighs. Jake has twisted around in the front passenger seat, forearm braced on the headrest, gaze dark and unblinking.
For several long seconds, no one speaks.
Only the rhythm of heavy breathing, the soft creak of leather as bodies shift, the faint metallic tick of the cooling engine. Then Heeseungâs voice, low, gravel-rough, breaks the silence against the shell of your ear.
âYouâre still dripping him,â he murmurs, one hand sliding from your ass to slip between your legs from behind. Two fingers push into the slick, swollen heat of your cunt, gathering Jayâs release and pressing it back inside with slow, unhurried strokes. The wet sound is obscene in the confined space. âCan feel it leaking out. Canât let that go to waste.â
Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, inner walls fluttering, a soft, helpless whimper slipping past your lips as your hips twitch forward. Jayâs hand joins Heeseungâs without hesitation. Four fingers now, stretching you wider, scooping the thick cum deeper, curling against the front wall until your breath hitches sharply.
âHeâs right,â Jay says, voice quiet but edged with something darker, more possessive. âWe should keep you full. All night. Every time one of us finishes, the next one pushes it right back in.â
Sunghoon leans in closer, breath ghosting hot along the side of your neck. His voice is velvet and steel. âFull until it takes. Until youâre so thoroughly bred thereâs no question who put it there.â
The words hit like a physical blow, low in your belly, sharp and electric. Your cunt clenches hard around their fingers, a fresh gush of slick coating their knuckles.
Jakeâs eyes widen in the front seat. âFuckâdid you justââ
âI said,â Sunghoon repeats, slower, darker, each syllable deliberate, âfull until it takes. Until this perfect little cunt is swollen and leaking and carrying exactly what we give it.â
Heeseungâs free hand slides up to cradle the front of your throat, not squeezing, simply holding, thumb resting over your racing pulse. âYou like that thought, donât you?â he asks softly, lips brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear. âAll four of us pumping you full, one right after the other. No pulling out. No wasting a single drop. Just letting it stay deep until your body has no choice but to keep it.â
You nod, frantic, tears already gathering at the corners of your eyes because the fantasy is suddenly too vivid, too real, too close to everything your body has been silently begging for.
Jayâs fingers crook harder, pressing ruthlessly against that spot that makes your vision blur. âUse your words.âÂ
âI want it,â you gasp, voice cracking. âWant you to, to breed me. Fill me until I canât take any more. Until itâs all inside me. Pleaseââ
A chorus of low, guttural groans fills the car. Heeseung lifts you just high enough to shove his jeans and briefs down his thighs. His cock springs free, thick, flushed dark, already leaking at the tip. He doesnât tease. He simply guides you down onto him in one long, controlled descent, stretching you open around his length until your ass meets his hips and heâs buried to the hilt.
You cry out, head falling back against his shoulder, nails digging into his forearms.
âThatâs it,â he hisses through clenched teeth. âTake every inch. Take every fucking drop Iâm about to give you.â He begins to move, deep, rolling thrusts that grind the head of his cock against your cervix with punishing precision. Jayâs hand stays between your legs, fingers circling your clit in tight, relentless loops while Heeseung fucks up into you with measured force.
Sunghoon has already freed himself completely, long, elegant fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking slowly, eyes never leaving the place where Heeseung disappears inside you over and over. âMy turn comes next,â he says, voice low and certain. âIâm going to add to it. Make sure nothing escapes.â
Jakeâs hand is inside his own pants now, stroking himself in perfect time with Heeseungâs rhythm, breath coming in short, ragged pants. âLook at her,â he mutters, almost reverent. âSo fucking desperate to be filled. Greedy little thing.â
Heeseungâs pace builds, hips snapping up harder, faster, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the car. âIâm going to come inside you,â he warns, voice strained. âGoing to flood this tight cunt until itâs overflowing. You ready for it?â
âYesâpleaseâHeeseungââ
He buries himself as deep as possible and comes with a long, broken groan, hot, thick pulses painting your walls, filling you so completely you feel the pressure build behind your navel. Even as you clench down hard, trying to keep it all in, the excess begins to leak out around his base, coating his balls and dripping onto the leather.
He doesnât pull out. He simply holds you there, still hard, still buried deep, while Jay shifts.
Jay moves to kneel on the seat beside you, one knee braced against the cushion. He nudges Heeseungâs softening length aside just enough to press his own cock against your already-stretched entrance. The stretch is immediate, two thick cocks forcing their way inside the same slick channel, rubbing against each other through the thin barrier of your walls. You scream, muffled against Heeseungâs shoulder, body shaking violently.
Jay fucks into you with short, brutal thrusts, the friction almost unbearable. âThis pussy is going to take all of us tonight,â he growls, voice rough with possession. âGoing to be so full of cum youâll feel it moving inside you every time you breathe.â
Sunghoon reaches over, fingers finding your clit again, pinching, rolling, tugging, pushing you higher and higher while Jay pounds relentlessly.
The orgasm crashes through you without warning, sharp, blinding, walls spasming so violently around both cocks that Jay swears under his breath. His hips stutter, then slam forward one last time as he comes, hot spurts mixing with Heeseungâs release until youâre overflowing, thick rivulets running down your thighs and soaking the seat beneath you.
Sunghoon doesnât give you time to recover.
He yanks you off both of them, strong hands manhandling you onto all fours across the wide back seat, ass presented high, face pressed into Heeseungâs lap. He lines up and drives in with one punishing thrust, burying himself to the hilt in a single motion that forces the air from your lungs.
âThis cunt is getting bred tonight,â he snarls, voice low and dangerous. âIâm going to pump you so full youâll be leaking for days. Every step you take tomorrow, youâll feel us still inside you.â
He fucks like itâs a claiming, like he needs to imprint himself deeper than the others. One hand fists your hair, yanking your head back until your spine arches sharply. The car rocks with the force of his thrusts.
Jake climbs over the center console into the back, kneeling in front of your face. He guides his cock to your lips. You open for him immediately, taking him deep, sucking with sloppy, desperate hunger while Sunghoon rails you from behind.
Sunghoon comes with a guttural sound, hips locked flush against your ass, flooding you with another hot load until it spills out around his base and runs in sticky trails down your inner thighs.
Jake pulls free from your mouth, strokes himself twice, and spills across your lower back in thick, warm ropes, marking your skin. They rotate again, Heeseung sliding back in, then Jay, then Sunghoon, each one adding more, fucking it deeper, pushing it against your cervix with every thrust until youâre trembling, sobbing, body overwhelmed and exquisitely full.
When the final round ends, Sunghoon pulling out with a wet, filthy sound, a fresh gush of cum following, your legs give out completely. You collapse forward onto Heeseungâs chest, shaking, panting, utterly spent.
Jay reaches into the center console and withdraws a small black velvet pouch. Inside are three plugs, smooth black silicone, flared bases, graduated sizes. Heeseung selects the largest, coats it generously in the creamy mess still leaking from you, then presses the blunt tip against your swollen entrance.
âGonna keep every drop where it belongs,â he murmurs, voice soft now, almost reverent. He works the plug in slowly, watching your face the entire time, until it pops past the rim and settles deep, the weight immediate and grounding.
Jay takes the smaller one, slicks it with the same care, and presses it gently but firmly into your ass. The dual fullness is overwhelming, possessive, complete.
Sunghoon cleans between your thighs with a packet of wipes from the glovebox, slow, careful strokes that feel almost tender after everything. Then he helps you sit up, smoothing your dress back down over your hips, fingers combing gently through your tangled hair. The car falls quiet again. They surround you, Heeseungâs arms wrapped securely around your waist, Jayâs hand resting warm and steady on your thigh, Sunghoonâs fingers tracing idle patterns along your arm, Jake leaning over the seat to press close from the front. After a long stretch of silence, Jake speaks, voice quieter than youâve ever heard it. âWe donât want anyone else,â he says simply. âNot ever. Not like this.â
Jay nods once. âYouâre not just something we fuck. Youâre ours. Completely. For everything.â
Sunghoonâs fingertips brush the line of your jaw, tilting your face toward him. âWe thought we could keep it light. Keep some distance. Pretend it didnât matter.â He exhales, the sound almost pained. âWe were wrong.â
Heeseungâs hold tightens, lips brushing your temple. âNo one else touches you. No one else fills you. No one else gets to love you the way we do.â The word, love,lands soft and heavy, undeniable. You turn your face into the warm curve of Heeseungâs neck, feel the first tear slip free, not from pain, not from overwhelm, but from the sudden, terrifying certainty that this is exactly where you want to be.
âI donât want anyone else either,â you whisper against his skin. They exhale as one, like theyâve been waiting weeks to hear it. Jake leans farther over the seat, presses a gentle kiss to your temple. âGood.â Jay draws you closer, tucking your head beneath his chin.
Sunghoon drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders, still warm from his body, carrying his scent. Heeseung climbs over the console, settling in the driverâs seat, he glances up at you through the rear view mirror, starts the engine, and pulls out of the lot with careful precision. The drive home is quiet. The plugs shift inside you with every turn, constant, heavy reminders. Their hands stay on you, gentle now, grounding.
When you reach the apartment they carry you inside, Heeseungâs arms strong and sure, straight to the largest bed. They undress you slowly, silk peeled away, heels slipped off, every movement careful and deliberate. They clean you again, warm washcloths, soft touches that linger.
Then they slide into bed around you, skin on skin, bodies fitting together like they were made for it. Heeseung at your front, chest pressed to yours, one leg thrown possessively over your hip. Jay at your back, arm wrapped securely around your waist, lips brushing your shoulder. Sunghoon curled lower, head resting on your thigh, long fingers tracing soothing circles. Jake pressed to your side, fingers laced tightly with yours.
No words. Just the slow, even rhythm of their breathing syncing with yours. Until the plugs feel less like possession and more like quiet promise. Until sleep finally claims you, safe, full, irrevocably claimed. Your dreams arenât about running. Theyâre about staying.
ok so i know i reblog fics here a lot already butttt i made a separate bookshelf blog for fics that really mean a lot to me at @zor2read (and i made the layout skullgirls themed as well for funzies)
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heeseung pulls you flush against his chest, his strong hands gripping your hips as he grinds slowly into you. his lips brush your ear, hot breath sending shivers down your spine. in a deep, husky voice filled with lust and quiet defiance, he whispers,
âsign the petition, drop my hashtags on x, and boycott hybe⊠like my good fucking girlâ
CUPID Ëââ§ê°á â à»ê± â§âË MDNI (for this post)
# âIS IT A CRIMEâ TO DO YOUR DIVORCE LAWYER ?? ââ .⊠( higuruma hiromi as your divorce lawyer x fem!reader oneshot )
Ëââ§ê°á â à»ê± â§âË this took me two days to write so hopefully you guys engage so it could boost my work !! so hopefully you guys enjoyy and Iâll make a part two if this ever reaches 900 notes
the first time you meet higuruma hiromi, itâs in a glass-walled conference room on the 27th floor of tokyo midtown tower. rain streaks the windows like the city refuses to rain fully
youâre clutching the divorce papers your soon-to-be-ex husband served you last week, knuckles white, eyes red-rimmed from another sleepless night of trying to find good lawyers that arenât persuaded by your soon-to-be-ex husbandâs money
he walks in at exactly 9:00 a.m., charcoal suit tailored like it was made to intimidate, tie knotted with military precision, no smile. just a curt nod and âmiss L/N, higuruma hiromi. letâs begin.â
his voice is low, measured, the kind that could read a grocery list and childrenâs story book and still sound like a closing argument. he listens to your story without interrupting the cheating, the gaslighting, the financial abuse he has over you, the prenup your ex is trying to weaponize. when you finish, voice cracking on the part about finding the other womanâs lipstick on his collar from his company, higuruma simply leans back like heâs heard this a million times, he continues nodding and blinks his eyebag ridden eyes and says,
âheâll regret the day he underestimated you. iâll make sure of it.â
just that, nothing else said.
thatâs all it takes. you sign the retainer on the spot.
the next three months are war and headaches combined.
you become a fixture in his office, your husband trying to take every assets of his back with the top lawyers of japan. itâs suddenly late nights poring over financial disclosures, strategy sessions where he paces in front of the whiteboard like a caged animal, sleeves rolled up, veins in his forearms standing out every time he writes another bullet point in that sharp black marker. you bring him coffee at 1 a.m. because the court doesnât care for sleep if you donât have your case ready.
You get him black, two sugars, the way he likes it and he mutters âthank you, missâ without looking up, but his fingers brush yours when he takes the cup and you feel it like static.
he never crosses the line. not once.
but the tension? itâs suffocating.
one night after a brutal mediation where your ex husbandâs lawyer tried to paint you as the unstable one, youâre both still in the office at 11:47 p.m.
higurumaâs jacket is off, tie loosened, top two buttons undone. heâs pouring himself a scotch from the decanter he keeps in the bottom drawer for nights like this. youâre slumped on the leather couch, heels kicked off, mascara smudged.
âyou did well today,â he says quietly, handing you a glass even though you didnât ask. âmost clients would have cried. you looked him dead in the eye and told him to go fuck himself. elegantly.â
you laugh, sleep deprived and tired. âi learned from the best.â
he sits beside you not across the desk like usual, but right next to you, thigh brushing yours.
the silence stretches. you can smell his cologne, something woody and expensive that makes your stomach flip every time he leans over your shoulder to point at a document or file.
âhiromi,â you say softly, using his first name for the first time. his head snaps toward you. âwhy do you do this? the divorce cases. youâre one of the best litigators in the city. you could be making partner at a big firm instead of⊠this. Not helping women like me you could actually be solving real cases.â
he swirls the scotch in his glass, staring into it like it holds answers. âbecause i know exactly what it feels like to be on the other side of that table, I suppose we donât get too much into my own life weâre talking about yours now.â
you swallow hard. âiâm sorry.â you kinda already knew he wouldnât tell you but atleast you could try right??
âdonât be.â his voice drops lower. âjust win.â
the air shifts. you both feel it. his knee presses against yours now, deliberate. you donât pull away.
âhiromiâŠâ
âdonât.â itâs almost a plea. âiâm your lawyer. this is unethical. i could lose my license.â
âthen fire me as a client.â
he laughs once, sharp and broken. âyou know i wonât.â
but his hand is already on your thigh, sliding up under the hem of your pencil skirt like it has a mind of its own. those long, firm fingers the same ones that sign million-yen settlements and form perfect arguments trace the lace edge of your stockings.
âtell me to stop,â he murmurs, eyes dark behind the glasses.
you donât.
instead you lean in and kiss him.
the scotch glass clatters to the floor, forgotten. he kisses like he argues precise, devastating, no wasted movement. tongue sliding against yours, one hand cupping the back of your neck to tilt you exactly how he wants.
the other yanks your blouse open, buttons scattering across the hardwood like evidence youâll never recover.
âfuck,â he groans against your mouth. âyou have no idea how long iâve wanted this.â
he stands, pulling you with him, and walks you backward until your ass hits the edge of his massive oak desk. papers fly everywhere depositions, bank statements, your entire messy life reduced to confetti.
he doesnât care. he lifts you onto the desk like you weigh nothing, spreads your legs, and drops to his knees right there in his $3000 suit. Itâs almost pathetic seeing a grown man on his knees like this but when higuruma does it, itâs law.
âlook at you,â he breathes, pushing your skirt up to your waist. âso wet already and iâve barely touched you.â two long fingers hook your panties aside and slide through your folds.
âthis is what youâve been hiding under those professional little skirts every night we worked late?â
you whimper, hips bucking. he tsks softly.
âpatience, miss. iâm going to take my time with you.â
he pushes two fingers inside you without warning slow, deep, curling instantly against that spot that makes your vision blur in a way youâre ex husband could never.
his thumb finds your clit and circles with lawyer precision, like heâs cross-examining your body and already knows every answer. the wet sounds are obscene in the quiet office.
âthatâs it,â he murmurs, voice rough. âlet me hear you. no one else is here. just you and me and all the rules weâre about to break.â
he adds a third finger, stretching you open, pumping faster while his mouth latches onto your clit.
The sight of him between your legs in full lawyer mode is almost too much. you come hard, thighs clamping around his head, crying out his name like a verdict.
he doesnât stop. just keeps working you through it, drawing it out until youâre shaking and oversensitive.
when he finally stands, his cock is already free thick, heavy, leaking at the tip. he strokes himself once, eyes locked on yours.
âturn around. hands on the desk.â
you obey instantly, chest pressed to the cool wood, ass up. he kicks your heels wider, lines up, and pushes in with one long thrust.
the stretch burns so good you sob. Youâve never felt sick this good before ever.
âfuck⊠so tight,â he growls, bottoming out. one hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise. the other fists in your hair, yanking your head back so he can bite your neck.
âthis pussy was made for me. been driving me insane for months.â
he fucks you like heâs trying to win the case of his life deep, punishing strokes that make the heavy desk scrape across the floor. every thrust knocks the breath out of you.
he leans over you, chest to your back, tie dangling against your spine.
âyouâre going to come again,â he says against your ear, voice low and commanding. âand youâre going to say my name when you do.â so commanding for a guy whoâs never even taken you on a first dateâŠ
you do twice more screaming âhiromi!â while he rails you through it, shadows from the city lights dancing across the walls like witnesses.
when he finally lets go, he buries himself to the hilt and fills you with a broken groan of your first name, hips stuttering, forehead pressed to your shoulder like heâs praying.
for a long minute the only sound is both of you panting.
then the lawyer returns gentle now. he pulls out slowly, cleans you with his own handkerchief like itâs the most natural thing in the world, fixes your skirt, buttons your blouse with careful fingers. he even finds your scattered hairpins and puts your hair back up himself.
âthis doesnât change anything about your case,â he says quietly, voice hoarse. âiâm still winning it for you. but⊠after the decree is final⊠iâd like to take you to dinner. properly.â
you laugh, leaning back against his chest. âhiromi, you just fucked me on your desk and youâre asking me on a date only now?â
he smiles small, tired, real. the first genuine one youâve ever seen from him.
âiâm a man of contradictions. sue me.â
you kiss him again, slower this time, and he melts into it like heâs been waiting years.
and for the first time in months, you both feel like winners.
