xo, alana❦

Can’t stop thinking about how riding him would be so hot.

Like, yes, we know he’s fucking attractive but i think sex with him is hotter because he wants you to use him to make yourself feel good and he doesn’t mind one bit.

He keeps himself trimmed instead of waxing or shaving completely because he pays attention when you’re riding him and knows how good you feel when you’re grinding your clit on his pubes and he’s just grinning from ear to ear when he hears your moans.

“Does that feel good, baby?” his hands moving to your ass to help you grind harder and faster.

Your hands are on his chest, legs spread wide on each side on his hips, hips rolling back and forth on him, you can feel his cock stretching you a bit more with every movement, your lips are parted letting out whines and moans and your head is thrown back from how much pleasure he is giving you.

“Mhmmm, you feel so thick and are so big, Jude,” you catch your bottom lip in between your teeth, he’s looking up at you with a smile and his hands start wandering over your body, touching every inch of skin he can reach.

“All for you, baby, just wanna make me girl feel so good, hm? How’s that needy clit? Is it feeling good, darling?” he coos, voice dropping as he makes eye contact with you.

Your brows scrunching in pleasure from his words and his touch.

“Mhmmm, yeah, so, so good. God, you’re so hot,” you sigh, hips now moving in circles, pressing down on him firmer.

Jude’s hands place on your hips, his thumbs stroking your skin slowly.

“There you go, baby, use me, make yourself come on me, okay? You deserve it, honey, come for me,”

Oh and he never stops talking. He knows you get off on his voice too so he doesn’t stop, not even when you’re crying out right on the edge of approaching an orgasm. He just loves praising you and mix it with dirty talking.

“Harder, baby, rub that wet pussy on me,”

“Deeper, you can do it, can you? Take that cock deeper, baby, it’ll make you feel even better,”

“You have no idea how beautiful you look up there bouncing on thy dick, does it feel good, angel? I bet it does, you can’t stop moaning,”

“Look how hot these tits are bouncing for me, sweetheart,”

He’d wet his fingers while looking deadly into your soul and then slowly lead them to your clit and draw a slow, gentle motion to help you come faster.

“So, so pretty, there you go, making that pretty clit feel good, yeah?” he says softly.

And after you’re a mess on his chest trying to catch your breath his hands are rubbing your back helping you calm down and he’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

“You did so good, baby, such a good girl, I’m so proud of you,”

“I love you, honey, you alright?”

“Do you need water? Are you comfortable like this?”

Always checking up on you, trying to make you feel safe and comfortable around him before, during and after sex.

Then the fans started up with “Hey Jude” and you had to look away quickly, blinking hard. The pride you feel swells up so huge it doesn’t fit in your chest, it spills over into these stupid tears every single time you hear the song, no matter how many times you see him do something like this.

“He looks exhausted,” Denise says quietly, her arm still hooked through yours, squeezing a little.

“I know. Bless him. I don’t know how he’s still standing out there. He gave that absolutely everything.”

You take some deep breaths with his parents, gushing over his performance as usual and wait for him to finish with everything else he has to do after the final whistle.

Soon enough, you watch him walk over showered and changed into the usual post-match tracksuits, his hood half up already like he’s already trying to shut the world out. Even from a distance you can see the heaviness in his shoulders, the way he’s moving a bit stiffer than usual, his tall frame carrying the weight of a country for ninety-plus minutes. He looks happy though. So, so happy. His dark eyes scan the stands until they find you three, and you can see the sparkle in them as soon as he spots you. 

He hugs his mum first, extra tight, murmuring something that makes her laugh and pat his back. All week she’d been saying watch your language, watch your tackles, watch your face so he wouldn’t get booked. You could see how proud she was of him, her eyes closing when they hugged. It almost made your heart burst. 

Then his dad, the two of them clapping each other on the shoulder like they always do, that quiet father-son thing that always makes your chest warm. Mark kisses his cheek, and your smile mirrors Jude’s bashful one. Only after that does he turn to you.

“There she is,” he says, voice a little rough from the game, his accent coming through even stronger when he’s tired. He smiles down at you, exhausted but sweet, and you stand up to meet him.

You cup his cheek, thumb brushing his sharp cheekbone, your other arm sliding round his broad back. He’s warm, solid, still carrying the smell of the grass mixed with fresh shower gel. “I’m so proud of you, Jude. That looked so tough out there.”

He leans down and kisses you, soft and quick. He’s never one for big PDA with the cameras hovering, but he never lets you feel unloved. Then his hand comes up, gentle as anything, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear. His eyes go all soft as he looks at you, the intense match-day fire dialled right down just for you. “Thank you, baby. Yeah… it was hard. Proper hard. But we got there. It was rough though, I’m shattered.”

You sit back down and he drops straight onto the seat next to you, no hesitation. His head finds your shoulder immediately, heavy and trusting, like he’s been waiting for this exact spot the whole night. You slide your hand up to scratch lightly at the back of his neck, the way he likes, and feel him let out a long breath, sinking further into you. The relief in his body is so obvious it makes your heart twist.

His mum and dad chat lightly for a minute — something about the referee, how proud they are, the usual post-match debrief — and Jude mumbles along, half in it, half gone. His hand finds yours in your lap, fingers threading together lazily.

After a bit he turns his head, lips brushing your ear as he lowers his voice. “Are you gonna come visit me tonight?”

You snort, playfully nudging his head away. “You look like you’ve been hit by a bus, babe.”

He laughs then, loud and bright, teeth flashing, his eyes lighting up with the loving mischief that always gets you. “What? I can’t get cuddles from my girl? After that?”

You raise an eyebrow, fighting your own smile. “Cuddles?”

His lip twitches, smirk spreading slow and dangerous. “Cuddles,” he repeats, all innocent like. “And a couple of kisses. Just three or four…”

You tilt your head, giving him a look. He’s dead on his feet, shoulders slumped, yet still managing to look at you like that. You ignore the heat pooling in your stomach from the way he's looking at you and try to think logically. The semi-finals are midweek. “You’re gonna cramp up at some point and whatever idea you’ve got of cuddles and kisses is gonna be straight out the window.”

“Can I not enjoy my recovery with my girlfriend? Is that against the law now?” He huffs dramatically, but his hands are already stroking up your sides, warm and familiar.

You huff at him, already giving in. “You’re so spoilt.”

He grins wider, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “You can never say no to me.”

And it’s true. You can’t say no to him. Not when he looks at you like that. Cuddles. Right. 

It wasn’t long before you found yourself being led by Jude back to his room in the team hotel in Miami. They’d just had a squad dinner, winding down after the match. As soon as players started to retreat he’d texted you and met you in the lobby. Other England camps weren’t like this in the past, you were so grateful the rules had been changed to let you see him, even if he should be resting.

He’d showered again, you could already tell by the cologne and body wash mix you could smell as you followed him down the quiet corridor. His hand was warm around yours, thumb brushing your knuckles every few steps. He still moved a little stiff from the game, the beautiful body of his carrying the bruises and the exhaustion, but there was this restless energy in him too, the win still buzzing under his skin.

Once the door clicked shut behind you, he didn’t stop talking. He kicked his slides off, flopping back onto the bed as he kept going, voice low and rough but nonstop the way it always gets when he’s over-excited.

“...and then after the equaliser, I swear the pitch felt like it was moving, the humidity was mad out there. But the lads were buzzing, it was so loud on the pitch. Harry pulled me over after and was saying something about the run we’re on now, and I was just thinking the whole time about that last chance, how I nearly messed up the touch but it just fell right. Then extra time, my legs were gone but you just dig deep, don’t you? Mum’s texts were killing me the whole week about watching my face and my language, I nearly got booked just for breathing heavy at the ref at one point—”

He laughed at himself, running a hand over his damp hair, eyes bright even though his shoulders were sinking deeper into the pillows. You perched on the edge of the bed, watching him, the usual warmth spreading in your chest.

He reached out and tugged you closer by the wrist, still mid-story. “—and then I was like, nah, we’re not losing this one. You get me babe? And then I was like—”

“Jude, take a breath, love. I was there and watching the whole thing,” you chuckle, adjusting to lie next to him on the bed. His arm slipped under your head straight away, pulling you in like it was the most natural thing in the world. His thumb moved slowly across your cheek, warm and a little rough.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he murmured, half-laughing at himself again, voice dropping lower. “I’m just… excited. I don’t know. We left everything out there and…”

He trailed off for a second, eyes half-closed, but his fingers kept moving, tracing your jaw, then down the side of your neck, like he couldn’t quite settle even though his body was heavy with tiredness. Up close like this you could see every little detail: the faint sheen of sweat still at his hairline from how warm it was in Miami, the way his chest rose and fell a bit quicker than normal, a fresh bruise along his jaw starting to darken. You breathed in his warm skin scent that always made your stomach flip.

He shifted closer, leg hooking over yours casually, voice going soft and a little rough with emotion. “It’s mad innit? One minute you’re out there thinking your legs are done, next minute the ball drops and it just… happens. And now we’re in the semis. Semis, babe.”

His grin came back, tired but bright, the one that always made your heart do stupid things. He pressed his forehead to yours for a second, breathing you in like he needed it more than air. “Couldn’t have done it without knowing you were up there. Makes it all feel different.”

“I love you,” you whisper softly, thumb brushing his cheek, “and I’m so proud of you.”

“How proud?” he beamed, raising an eyebrow, a playful spark lighting up his exhausted face.

“Very proud. Like… prouder than you can even imagine. I think I’ve cried at nearly every game—”

Jude giggles, almost giddy, the sound low and warm in his chest. He loved praise, especially from you, it always turned him soft and a little cocky at the same time. “I know, my little crybaby,” he cooed, voice teasing and fond as he leaned in, pressing little kisses all over your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. Each one gentle and sweet, like he was savouring being close after the chaos of the match.

“Shut up,” you laugh quietly, trying to sound stern but failing completely. “You need to calm down, baby. You have to sleep.”

“My body’s tired,” he mumbles against your skin, kissing your cheek again, then lingering lower near your jaw, “but the adrenaline is just making me wired, man.”

You stroke his side, up and down in a slow, steady rhythm, feeling the solid warmth of him under your palm, the faint tremor of leftover energy in his muscles. His tall frame was heavy against you, one leg tangled with yours, but his hands kept wandering. Sliding under the hem of your top to rest against your lower back, thumb tracing lazy circles there. 

After a moment he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow so he’s looking down at you properly. The lamp on the bedside table casts a soft glow over his face, his beautiful brown eyes and pink lips slightly parted. He looks unfairly good for someone who just played extra time in a stadium that felt more like a sauna.

“So…” he starts, a smirk creeping back in. “About those kisses I was promised.”

You raise an eyebrow, fighting a smile again. “I don’t remember promising anything.”

“Oi, don’t lie to me..” He leans in closer, nose brushing yours, breath warm against your mouth. “I distinctly remember talking about three or four. Minimum.” His hand slides higher under your top, palm flat and warm against your ribs, thumb stroking just under the curve of your breast. “Come on, baby. I earned them, didn’t I? Scored two, dragged us to the semis… least you can do is give your man some proper kisses.”

He’s grinning again now, all cheeky and tired and completely devastating to your self-control . Before you can answer he dips his head and presses one slow kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another just below your ear, lingering there like he knows exactly what it does to you. 

“You’ve just wasted two kisses…and you look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

He groans in joking frustration, eyebrows furrowing to give you a little puppy dog look that always gets him out of trouble. “I just want cuddles and kisses before i sleep-”

He stops as you tilt your head at him, giving him another look.

“I swear, I swear! Baby, please…”

The pleading look on his face already has your stomach flipping, mouth a little dry. He’s so unfairly gorgeous like this. Tired eyes, messy damp curls,his toned body stretched out next to you, still radiating heat from the match. The way his tracksuit top has ridden up to show a sliver of toned stomach… it’s ridiculous how much you want him even when he’s half-dead on his feet.

“Fine,” you say, trying to sound stern but your voice comes out softer than you mean it to, “but you need to try and sleep too…”

He shifts slightly so you’re fully facing each other, one hand moving to your lower back, his leg still draped heavy over yours. “I can fall asleep kissing you.”

The kisses start off sweet and slow. Gentle presses of his lips against yours, his hand stroking your lower back under your top. His other hand in your hair, fingers loose and tired. Then they deepen.

Jude lets out a quiet, relieved sigh into your mouth as his lips part wider, tongue sliding in slow and warm. The kisses turn sloppy fast. Wet, lazy, unhurried in an exhausted way that somehow makes it hotter. His tongue moves heavy and deep, tangling with yours in long, messy strokes, licking into your mouth like he’s too tired to do anything but feel you. Every so often he sucks softly on your tongue or your bottom lip, pulling it between his before going back in deeper, slower, wetter. You can taste the faint mint from his post-dinner toothpaste mixed with the warm, familiar taste that’s just him. His breaths are heavier now, little groans vibrating against your lips as the kisses grow filthier. Your tongues sliding slow and slick, mouths open and messy, spit-slick lips catching every time you pull apart for air only to dive right back in.

He’s genuinely exhausted, you feel it in the heavy weight of his body against yours, the way his movements stay soft and sleepy even as they get more desperate. His hand in your hair tightens slightly, holding you there as he kisses you like he’s trying to melt into you. Deep, lazy swirls of his tongue, slow sucks, the occasional sleepy grind of his hips against your thigh. He’s half-asleep and completely turned on at the same time, and it’s doing dangerous things to you.

Your hand slides under his top to rest on his ribs, and the soft, needy sound he makes against your tongue makes you shiver hard in his arms.

“M’so hard for you,” he whispers against your lips, breathing heavily. He presses his hips forward, grinding slowly so you can feel exactly how turned on he is, the thick, heavy outline of his cock straining against his joggers.

“You need me to help you, baby?” you murmur, letting your hand trail down his stomach until your palm cups the hard bulge. He’s so warm, so fucking hard already, twitching eagerly under your touch.

Jude’s breath hitches, hips jerking up into your hand as he lets out a soft, desperate whimper. “Please…”

“But you’re so tired, Jude.” You stroke him slowly through the fabric, teasing, because you love when he gets like this…all soft, sleepy, and whiny for you.

“Baby—” he whines, the sound high and needy, forehead pressed to yours. His hand moves down to squeeze your ass, fingers digging in just a little. “M’never too tired for you… fuck, please touch me properly. I need it. Need you so bad..”

You push his joggers down just enough to free him and wrap your fingers around him. Jude’s whole body shudders, a broken moan spilling from his lips as you start stroking him. You start slow, firm pulls from base to tip, thumb swirling over the slick head every time. He’s so thick and hot in your hand, veins pulsing, leaking steadily now. You’re transfixed by the sight of him.

“Fuck… yes, just like that,” he whimpers, voice all sleepy. His head tips back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut, mouth open as soft, desperate little sounds keep falling out of him. “Your hand feels so good, baby… don’t stop, please. I’ve been thinking about this for hours.”

You twist your wrist on the upstroke and he jolts, hips bucking lazily into your fist, chasing the pleasure even though his body is heavy with exhaustion. Every whimper is quieter, needier. He’s almost submissive in the way he lets you take control, thighs trembling, fingers clutching at your waist like you’re the only thing anchoring him.

You lift his shirt higher so you can see his toned stomach, selfishly maybe, but he looked so pretty. You keep going, stroking him faster, tighter, watching the way his abs clench and his chest rises and falls quicker. “So pretty Jude,” you whisper, and Jude lets out a broken whine, biting his bottom lip.

“Baby… I— fuck, I’m so close already,” he pants, voice cracking. “Your hand is gonna make me come if you keep— ah—”

You slide down his body before he can finish, taking him into your mouth in one slow, wet glide. Jude’s back arches off the bed with a loud, guttural moan, one hand flying to your hair, holding on tight as his fingers tremble.

“Oh my god— your mouth, fuck—” He’s losing it completely now, sleepy whimpers turning into desperate, broken sounds as you bob your head, tongue swirling around him, sucking him deep. “So warm… so fucking good. Baby, please— I can’t— you’re gonna make me come down your throat if you keep sucking like that.”

His hips twitch up gently, like he’s trying so hard to be good and not fuck your mouth, but his control is slipping. Whiny, breathy moans fill the room as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, tongue pressing along the underside. Jude’s thighs shake, hand tightening in your hair, voice hoarse.

“Baby… slow, please, I’m so sensitive— fuck, I love your mouth so much…”

You slow down and look up, making eye contact with him. His eyes are glassy, half-lidded with exhaustion and pure bliss, lips parted, chest heaving. The sight of you between his legs like this seems to ruin him even more.

“You’re so beautiful,” he moans, voice cracking, thumb stroking your cheek gently. “My beautiful girl.”

He keeps watching you with that dazed, adoring look, hips rocking up in tiny, helpless movements as you suck him slow and deep. You swirl your tongue around the head, then take him all the way again, relaxing your throat until your nose brushes his stomach. Jude’s whole body trembles.

“Fuck— baby, look at you,” he whispers, voice hoarse and reverent. “Taking me so well… even when I’m this tired. You’re perfect. So fucking perfect for me.”

His praise comes out soft and broken, each word punctuated by a shaky breath or a little whimper. You can feel how close he is, the way his cock throbs heavier on your tongue, the constant little twitches of his thighs, the way his fingers keep flexing in your hair like he’s fighting not to lose it. But he stays so good for you, letting you control everything, just moaning and whining softly every time you swallow around him or suck a little harder.

“Gonna make me come if you keep doing that…” he pants, eyes fluttering. “Your mouth is too good, love. Too warm and wet and— shit—”

You pull off with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock as you stroke him slowly with your hand instead. Jude lets out a wrecked, needy sound at the loss, hips chasing your mouth for a second before he catches himself. Before you can say anything, he’s tugging at you weakly, desperate.

“Too far away… come back up here, please.”

You crawl back up his body and he immediately pulls you in, kissing you deep and messy, tasting himself on your tongue with a low groan. His hands are everywhere, sliding under your top, squeezing your waist, your hips, like he needs to feel all of you at the same time. The kiss goes on and on, lazy and filthy, tongues sliding slow while he whimpers softly into your mouth every time you stroke him.

You keep working your hand over his cock, slow and slick, and Jude’s hips rock up to meet every stroke, his breathing getting shakier. He breaks the kiss just enough to rest his forehead against yours, panting.

“You don’t want to come yet?” you whisper against his lips, still stroking him lazily.

He shakes his head, eyes fluttering. “Wanna be closer to you baby, wanna make you feel good.. wanna.. wanna— fuck.”

His sentence cuts off into a broken moan. For a long moment he just kisses you again, deeper this time, one hand cupping the back of your neck while the other slides down your body. His palm smooths over your stomach, then lower, teasing along the waistband of your shorts like he’s giving you time to feel the anticipation. His fingers finally slip under the fabric, pushing your shorts and panties down your thighs in one clumsy but eager movement. He helps kick them the rest of the way off, big hands gentle on your skin the whole time.

Once they’re gone he settles between your spread legs, still kissing you slow and deep. His fingers drag through your folds and he curses softly against your mouth.

“You’re so wet for me, fuck…” He circles your clit slowly, almost lazily, but the way his breath catches tells you how much it affects him. “All this for me? After I played like shit for half the game?”

You laugh breathlessly, rolling your hips against his hand, and he smiles a tired, crooked grin before leaning in to kiss you again. His fingers keep moving, slow circles on your clit, then dipping inside you just enough to make you gasp into his mouth. He’s still so hard against your thigh, twitching every time you moan.

Jude buries his face in your neck, kissing and sucking softly while his fingers work you open. “Need to be inside you,” he mumbles against your skin. “Please, baby. Wanna feel you around me. Wanna make you come first… then you can ride me slow while I hold you. I just— I need you close. So fucking close.”

He curls his fingers just right and you arch into him, moaning his name. Jude whimpers in response, pressing his cock against your hip like he can’t help it. 

“Please, baby,” he breathes against your neck, voice hoarse and shaky. “I need to be inside you. Can’t wait anymore.”

You nod, pulling him up for another deep kiss as he lines himself up. “If you get tired just say, Jude,” you whisper against his lips. He looked so exhausted — eyes heavy, shoulders slumped — and part of you still felt a pang of guilt that he was going to be the one putting in all the effort tonight.

“You’re such an angel,” he whispers softly, pecking your forehead with heartbreaking tenderness, then leaning down for another deep kiss. “As if I could ever be too tired to fuck you.”

The head of his cock nudges against your entrance, hot and slick, and you both moan into each other’s mouths as he starts pushing in. He’s so slow and careful, even though you can feel how badly he wants to bury himself.

“Fuck… so tight,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Inch by inch he sinks into you, stretching you open until he’s fully seated, hips flush against yours. The sound he makes is relief mixed with pleasure, a long, broken moan that vibrates through his chest.

For a moment he just stays there, buried deep, breathing hard against your lips. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, desperate for the full body contact. You can feel how tired he is, the way his muscles are trembling from the long match and the effort it’s taking just to hold himself up. “You feel so good,” he groans. “Just for me, yeah? Tell me this pussy belongs to me. ”

“It belongs to you, baby. Only you,” you moan softly, clenching around him. “I belong to you.”

A shaky breath leaves him. He buries his face in your neck, sucking softly on your skin while he gives one slow, grinding roll of his hips. “Good girl… all mine,” he mumbles, the words slurred with tiredness. “I don’t share you with anyone.”

Then he starts moving with slow, lazy rolls of his hips, grinding deep instead of thrusting hard. Every stroke is deliberate, like he’s savouring every second even though exhaustion is weighing on him. His breaths are heavier, his arms shaking slightly as he holds you, sweat beading on his forehead and sliding down his temple. Still, he doesn’t stop. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper, and Jude lets out a soft, whiny sound again that makes you clench harder around him.

“Baby… yeah, just like that,” he pants. “Feels too good. You’re squeezing me so tight— fuck.”

His mouth finds yours again, the kiss sloppy and tired, tongues sliding lazily while he keeps that slow grind going. One hand stays gripping your hip, the other slides up to cup your breast through your t-shirt, thumb brushing your nipple almost absentmindedly, like even his hands are running out of energy but he refuses to stop touching you. He’s so vocal, whimpering your name, telling you how perfect you feel, how much he needs you.

You can feel him getting closer, his thrusts losing their steadiness, becoming a little more desperate. “I’m so close,” he whines against your mouth. “Come with me, baby. Please. Wanna feel you come around me.”

One of his hands slips between you, fingers finding your clit and rubbing slow circles. The combination of his cock dragging deep inside you, his fingers, his soft sleepy moans, pushes you over the edge first. You clench around him hard, crying out his name as pleasure crashes through you.

Jude follows right after with a broken groan, burying his face in your neck as he comes deep inside you, hips stuttering. “Fuck— love you, love you so much,” he mumbles against your skin, trembling through it.

Afterwards he collapses on top of you, heavy and warm, still buried inside. His arms wrap around you tightly, face tucked into your neck as he catches his breath. Soft kisses press against your shoulder, lazy and sweet.

“Best recovery ever,” he murmurs with a tired little laugh, voice muffled. “But I’m never moving ever again.”

You run your fingers down the muscles of his back, smiling as both of your breathing starts to even out, his body finally giving in to the exhaustion. You kiss his temple, open your mouth to respond, but he's snoring softly before you can even reply.

chapter four: dangerous orbits

by friday morning, the library has become your sanctuary, or maybe your hiding place. you sit at a secluded corner desk on the third floor, hidden behind a fortress of heavy textbooks. Quantum Mechanics: The Theoretical Minimum is open in front of you, but for the last twenty minutes, you’ve been staring at the same paragraph about state vectors, your mind completely unmoored.

every time you close your eyes, you hear his voice. “good girl". “you could never disappoint me, y/n.”

you squeeze your eyes shut, your cheeks burning hot against your palms. "stop it," you whisper to yourself, pressing your knuckles against your forehead. you're a rational person. you chose physics because the universe runs on strict, unyielding laws. cause and effect. action and reaction. but nothing about the way your pulse skyrockets when heeseung fixes his glasses with his index finger feels rational.

your phone buzzes against the wood of the desk, the sudden vibration making you gasp. your heart leaps into your throat as you scramble to grab it, half-terrified and half-hoping it’s his name on the screen.

it isn't. it's just a reminder for your lab quiz on monday.

you let out a shaky breath, a mixture of intense relief and a hollow, disappointing ache settling in your chest. you drop the phone back onto the desk and stare down at your lap. today you wore a simple oversized gray hoodie and regular jeans, consciously choosing the most ordinary, shapeless clothes you owned. after the matching sweater incident on tuesday, you felt exposed, like he could read the deliberate intent behind your outfits. you wanted to look pretty for him—you couldn't even lie to yourself about that anymore—but the realization of what you were doing, of the line you were eagerly dancing on, made your stomach twist with a complicated guilt.

he's married. you saw the ring. you saw the way he gripped it, twisting the silver band like an anchor keeping him tethered to a shore you aren't allowed to touch.

"he's just being a good mentor," you mutter, tracing the edge of the textbook page. "he sees a passionate student, and he's helping. the rest is just in your head."

but a good mentor doesn't tell a student she's captivating. a good mentor's voice doesn't drop into a raspy, low register that makes your thighs press together under the desk.

unable to focus on the formulas any longer, you pack your journal and the heavy textbook into your bag and leave the library. the campus is bustling with students enjoying the afternoon sun, but you walk through the crowd like a ghost, completely absorbed in your own head.

without entirely meaning to, your feet guide you toward the science building. your next lecture isn't for another two hours, and it's not even in this hall, but your eyes automatically track upward to the second-floor windows. that's where his office is. is he in there right now? is he grading papers, or is he looking at the diagram of quantum entanglement, thinking about how two particles can be connected across a room?

you bite your lip—a habit you are now hyper-aware of—and force yourself to turn away, heading toward the campus cafe instead.

by the time tuesday evening rolls around, you are a nervous wreck. you spent a full hour in front of your closet, completely paralyzed by indecision. you wanted to look neat, professional, but your heart ached to see that dark, intense look in his eyes again. in the end, you settled on a polkadot blouse paired with a black skirt that hits just above your knees. it's modest, but the soft fabric hugs your waist just enough to make your skin prickle with anticipation.

the walk to his office feels longer tonight. the hallways of the science building are empty, the quiet echoing with the rhythmic click of your shoes. when you reach his door, you stop, closing your eyes and taking three deep, grounding breaths.

"academic guidance," you whisper to yourself. "just ask about chapter three."

you raise your hand and knock softly.

the door opens almost instantly, as if he had been standing right behind it. heeseung stands in the doorway, and the sight of him makes your breath hitch. he’s back in his formal attire—a crisp, black button-up shirt with the sleeves neatly cuffed at his wrists, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead.

his dark eyes sweep down your skirt, his gaze lingering for a fraction of a second on your bare knees before traveling back up to your face. a subtle, almost imperceptible shift occurs in his expression, his jaw tightening slightly.

"good evening, y/n," he says, his voice soft, carrying that familiar, heavy resonance that makes your knees feel weak. "come in."

"good evening, heeseung," you murmur, stepping past him into the warm, golden light of his office. the scent of coffee and old paper wraps around you like a familiar blanket, but tonight, there's also the faint, sharp smell of his cologne.

as he closes the door behind you, the heavy click of the lock signals the start of another hour where the rest of the world ceases to exist, and you are entirely at the mercy of his orbit.

you step further into the room, setting your bag down on the edge of the chair. your hands are slightly clammy, so you press them against the fabric of your skirt to dry them before pulling out the heavy textbook.

heeseung walks back around his desk, his eyes tracking your movements with an intensity that makes your breath shallow. he doesn't sit down immediately; instead, he leans against the edge of the wood, crossing his arms over his chest. the fabric of his black button-up stretches across his broad shoulders, and your eyes find their way down to his rolled-up sleeves, catching the slight flex of his forearms.

"did you manage to get through the first three chapters?" he asks, tilting his head slightly. his tone is perfectly professional, but his dark eyes hold a quiet curiosity that makes you feel like you're being tested on something far deeper than physics.

"i did," you say, looking up to meet his gaze. you open the book to your marked pages, your journal sliding out alongside it, filled with pages of your neat handwriting and complex equations. "the math in chapter three got a bit overwhelming, especially when it came to the scalar field representations. i tried to map out the operators, but..."

"but you got stuck?" he guesses softly, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips.

"a little," you admit, feeling a sudden flush of heat creep up your neck. "i wanted to understand it perfectly before tonight. i didn't want to disappoint you."

heeseung lets out a quiet, huffed breath, his gaze dropping to your face. the small smile fades, replaced by that intense, serious look that always makes your heart hammer against your ribs. "y/n, i told you before. you could never disappoint me. the fact that you even attempted the derivation on your own is more than what most graduate students can do."

he moves away from the edge of the desk, pulling his chair closer to yours. when he sits, the distance between you shrinks significantly. you can feel the warmth radiating from him, the subtle scent of his clean cologne completely enveloping your senses.

"show me where you got confused," he whispers, leaning over the desk so his shoulder is almost brushing against yours.

you point a trembling index finger toward a complex string of symbols in your journal. "here. the transition from the classical field to the quantum operator. i lost the track of the commutation relations."

"ah." heeseung leans in closer, his dark head hovering just inches from yours as he looks down at your notes. "you missed the spatial dependency. see this term here?" he reaches out, taking the pen from your hand. his fingers brush against yours, a brief, electric spark of contact that makes your stomach flip. he doesn't seem to notice—or maybe he's just better at hiding it than you are—as he circles a variable in your journal. "if you don't account for the delta function, the whole equilibrium collapses."

"oh..." you murmur, staring at the page. but you aren't looking at the math. you're looking at the long, elegant shape of his hand, the way his knuckles look as he writes, and the silver wedding band catching the golden light of the lamp.

the ring feels like a quiet, heavy chaperone sitting on the desk between you, shouting boundaries that your heart keeps trying to ignore.

as if sensing your distraction, heeseung stops writing. the room goes incredibly quiet, save for the hum of the building's air conditioning. he slowly turns his head to look at you, his face so close you can see the dark flecks in his eyes and the small mole on his forehead. his gaze drops down to your mouth, watching the way your lower lip is caught between your teeth.

"y/n," he says, his voice dropping into that low, raspy register that sends a violent shiver down your spine. "what did i tell you about that?"

you freeze, your heart slamming so hard against your chest you're entirely certain he can hear it. you slowly release your lower lip, your breathing shallow. "sorry... i told you, it's a habit."

"a dangerous one," he murmurs, his dark eyes fixed entirely on your lips. his hand is still holding your pen, resting on the desk just inches from your skirt. for a split second, the space between you feels completely charged, a magnetic pull so strong that the air feels thick, suffocating. heeseung swallows hard, his jaw clenching as he fights whatever internal battle is raging behind his calm exterior.

he forces his gaze away, staring down at your journal with a sudden, tight focus. "if you apply the operator here," he continues, his voice slightly rougher than before, "the field resolves. do you see it now?"

"yes," you whisper, your voice a little breathy as you try to regain your composure. "i see it."

"good." he sets the pen down with a quiet click, leaning back into his chair. he rubs his temples, letting out a long, slow breath. "you're incredibly smart, y/n. your intuition for the subject is... remarkable. it makes it very easy to teach you."

"thank you," you say softly, a genuine smile breaking through your nervousness. "i really love learning from you, heeseung. i mean it. no one else makes it make sense like this."

heeseung looks at you, his expression softening into something so fond, so heavy with unspoken thoughts, that it catches in your throat. he opens his mouth to say something, but before the words can leave his lips, a sudden, heavy vibration echoes through the quiet room.

your eyes instinctively look down at his desk. his phone is face-up, the screen illuminated in the dim light.

the caller ID reads: Minji—his wife.

the warmth in the room evaporates in an instant, replaced by a cold, sharp reality. heeseung freezes, his eyes locked on the flashing screen. his expression hardens, the soft, intimate look he was just giving you vanishing behind a wall of polite, professional distance.

he clears his throat quickly, his hand reaching out to flip the phone face-down, silencing the vibration. the silver wedding band on his finger catches the light one last time before he slides his hand back into his pocket.

"i think... that's a good stopping point for today," he says, his voice completely steady now, returning to his standard professor tone. "you have a solid grasp on the fundamentals. just finish the exercises at the end of chapter three for next week."

the sudden shift makes your chest ache with a dull, heavy disappointment. you nod quickly, your cheeks burning with a fresh wave of embarrassment as you gather your things. "of course. thank you for your time, mr. lee... heeseung."

"anytime, y/n," he says quietly, watching you pack your bag. he stands up to walk you to the door, his posture rigid and formal once again.

as you step out into the empty hallway, you give him a small, polite smile, but the cool night air hitting your face offers no comfort this time. you turn and walk down the corridor, the rhythmic click of your shoes sounding lonely against the linoleum floors. you can feel his eyes on your back until you turn the corner, but the heavy image of his flashing phone screen stays burned into your mind, a stark reminder of exactly where his gravity truly belongs.

chapter five: broken symmetry

for the next week, you became a ghost in his lectures. you sat in your usual spot—second row to the left—but you kept your eyes fixed firmly on your notebook, your fingers gripping your pen until your knuckles turned white. you didn't look at the way he fixed his glasses. you didn't look at his broad shoulders. and most of all, you didn't look at his hands.

the image of his flashing phone screen—minji—had re-centered your universe with a violent, necessary force. it was the cold, hard boundary you had been foolishly trying to ignore. he was a married man, and you were a student letting a silly crush completely distort reality.

when tuesday evening arrived, you didn't wear a skirt or a coordinated sweater. you wore an oversized black hoodie and baggy sweatpants, your hair pulled back into a messy, unpretentious bun. you walked into his office with your textbook clutched against your chest like a shield.

heeseung was sitting at his desk, his laptop open, looking exhausted. the dark circles under his eyes were prominent under the harsh fluorescent lights he had chosen over his usual soft lamp. when he looked up and saw you, his eyes scanned your casual attire, and a flash of something unreadable—perhaps regret, or maybe relief—passed through his features.

"y/n," he said softly, his voice carrying a raspy edge. "sit, please."

"good evening, heeseung," you said, your tone deliberately polite, devoid of the soft reverence from before. you took your seat, immediately opening chapter four and laying out your completed exercises. "i finished the derivations for the gauge fields. i think i got the matrix transformations right, but i wanted to verify the invariance."

heeseung stared at the notebook you pushed toward him, but he didn't lean in. he remained back in his chair, keeping a strict, painful distance between the two of you. the warm, magnetic bubble from the previous weeks was completely gone, replaced by a tense, sterile atmosphere.

"let's see," he murmured, pulling the notebook closer. he picked up his pen, his fingers moving methodically across your equations. "this is correct... and this is also correct. your math is flawless here, y/n."

"thank you," you said, keeping your eyes on the paper.

silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. the hum of the building's ventilation seemed louder than usual. heeseung set the pen down, his hand resting near the edge of the desk. the silver wedding band on his finger seemed to catch every drop of light in the room.

"you've been quiet in class," he said suddenly, his voice dropping into a lower register that made your chest tighten despite your best efforts. "very focused on your notes."

"i have a lot of exams coming up," you lied smoothly, keeping your gaze fixed on a random variable in your notebook. "i just need to make sure my grades stay perfect."

heeseung let out a long, slow breath. he ran a hand through his dark hair, his jaw clenching. "y/n... about last week—"

"it's fine," you interrupted quickly, finally looking up to meet his eyes. your throat felt dry, but you forced the words out with a steady, resolute strength. "you don't have to explain anything, heeseung. you're my professor, and you're helping me with my degree. that's all this is. i know the boundaries."

heeseung froze, his dark eyes searching your face with an intensity that felt almost predatory, as if he were trying to find a single crack in your armor. but you held his gaze, refusing to let your lower lip tremble, refusing to give in to the dangerous pull.

"right," he whispered, his voice sounding hollow, almost bitter. he looked away, staring down at the complex equations of broken symmetry on the page. "that's... exactly what this is. let's move on to chapter five."

the rest of the session passed in a cold, analytical blur. he explained the concepts with his usual brilliance, but the passion was gone, replaced by a rigid professionalism that made your heart ache with a profound, heavy sorrow. when the clock finally hit five, you packed your things without a word.

"thank you for the session," you said, offering a small, polite nod as you swung your bag over your shoulder.

"have a good night, y/n," he responded, his voice completely flat, his eyes already fixed back on his laptop screen.

as you walked out of the office and into the empty hallway, the cool air felt bitter. you had successfully repaired the symmetry of your academic relationship, but as you walked away, you felt entirely shattered.

chapter six: the perturbation theory

for the rest of the month, the distance between you and heeseung became an unwritten law. in the lecture hall, you remained a model student—attentive, quiet, and completely detached. you no longer lingered after the bell rang, and you stopped looking at his hands. you convinced yourself that the ache in your chest was just the stress of midterms, nothing more.

but laws in physics are meant to be tested, and systems in perfect equilibrium are often the most fragile.

it happened on a rainy thursday afternoon. the campus was drenched in a torrential downpour, turning the sky a heavy, bruised purple. you had spent the last four hours in the basement computer lab typing up a rigorous programming model for your advanced mechanics class. by the time you packed up your laptop and walked up the stairs, the building was nearly deserted, the dim hallways cast in the gray shadow of the storm outside.

as you stepped onto the main floor, a sharp, melodic sound echoed down the corridor, stopping you dead in your tracks.

it was a piano.

the notes were heavy, rich, and deeply melancholic, drifting through the empty hallway from the old auditorium at the end of the hall. the melody was complex—a classical piece that felt restless, full of tension and unexpressed grief. your feet moved before your brain could protest. you walked down the dim corridor, drawn to the music like a moth to a flickering flame.

the auditorium doors were heavy oak, but one of them was propped open just a fraction of an inch. you stepped closer, holding your breath, and peered through the gap.

the stage was mostly dark, save for a single spotlight cutting through the shadows, illuminating the grand piano. and sitting at the keys, his jacket thrown carelessly over a nearby chair, was heeseung.

his black button-up shirt was untucked, the top two buttons undone, and his sleeves were rolled haphazardly up his forearms. his dark hair fell over his eyes as his long, elegant fingers flew across the ivory keys with a raw, breathtaking intensity. he wasn't just playing; he was pouring something volatile into the instrument. you watched, completely mesmerized, as his broad shoulders shifted with every heavy chord, his jaw clenched tight in complete concentration.

this was the man who had told you he was rusty. this was the private concert he had promised you in the quiet safety of his office.

as the piece reached its thundering crescendo, heeseung struck a final, lingering chord that echoed through the vast, empty room. the notes slowly faded into the quiet air, leaving nothing but the sound of the rain heavy against the high windows. he stayed still, his hands resting on the keys, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

unconsciously, you leaned a bit closer to the door, the strap of your heavy bag slipping against your shoulder and hitting the wood with a dull, quiet thud.

heeseung’s head snapped toward the entrance immediately. "who’s there?" he called out, his voice sharp, echoing in the empty space.

your heart stopped. you stepped back, intending to run down the hallway before he could see you, but the heavy oak door creaked loudly as you moved.

"y/n?"

hearing your name, you froze. heeseung stood up from the piano bench, walking down the steps of the stage into the dim seating area. your legs felt like lead, keeping you rooted to the spot as he approached the doors and pulled one wide open.

when his dark eyes met yours, the air between you instantly turned thick, the rigid professionalism of the past two weeks dissolving into nothing. he looked exhausted, his eyes searching your face with a raw, exposed vulnerability that stripped away all his usual academic armor.

"i... i'm sorry," you stammered, your voice barely a whisper against the sound of the rain. "i was just leaving the computer lab. i heard the music, and i didn't mean to intrude."

heeseung didn't answer right away. he just stared at you, his gaze tracking the damp strands of hair framing your face, down to the simple oversized jacket you wore. he let out a slow, shaky breath, running a hand through his dark hair.

"you weren't intruding," he said softly, his voice dropping into that low, raspy register that always made your chest ache. he stepped aside, holding the heavy door open wider. "come in out of the hallway, y/n. please."

every rational thought in your head screamed at you to turn around and walk away. but looking at him standing there—unraveled, beautiful, and completely devoid of his usual composure—you found yourself stepping past him into the dim auditorium.

he closed the door behind you, and just like that, the sterile, safe boundaries you had fought so hard to rebuild collapsed under the weight of a single, unpredictable perturbation.

the heavy oak door clicked shut, the sound dampening the distant rumble of the storm outside. you stood just inside the threshold, your fingers tightly gripping the straps of your bag, your knuckles white. the auditorium felt massive, yet the space between the two of you felt incredibly small, charged with a sudden, suffocating gravity.

heeseung turned around, his eyes locking onto yours. without the desk between you, without the textbooks and the structured syllabus, he looked entirely human—and dangerous. the top two buttons of his black shirt were undone, exposing the elegant line of his throat, and his rolled sleeves revealed the tense muscles of his forearms.

"you play beautifully," you whispered, the quiet words costing you a strange amount of bravery. "you lied to me. you aren't rusty at all."

a faint, self-deprecating smile touched his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. he walked slowly back toward the stage, his steps unhurried. "i haven't touched a piano in three years, y/n. not until today." he stopped by the edge of the stage, leaning against the wooden apron, looking down at you. "the keys... they don't let you hide what you're thinking. physics is safe because it has rules. music doesn't."

you walked down the sloped aisle, drawn closer despite the warning bells in your head. "what were you thinking about?"

heeseung’s gaze darkened, tracking your progress until you stood just a few feet away from him at the base of the stage. the single spotlight from above caught the silver wedding band on his left hand as he gripped the edge of the wood. tonight, the ring didn't look like a shield; it looked like a handcuff.

"you know what i was thinking about," he said, his voice dropping to that rough, low register that sent a violent tremor straight to your core. "i was thinking about symmetry. and how easily a system collapses when a single variable changes."

you swallowed hard, your throat completely dry. "heeseung, we shouldn't—"

"i tried, y/n," he interrupted, his tone carrying a sudden, raw edge that made your heart hammer against your ribs. he stood up straight, stepping off the low stage platform until he was standing directly in front of you. he was so tall, completely enveloping your field of vision, the scent of his clean cologne mixed with the faint, sharp smell of rain. "the past two weeks... i sat behind that desk and let you treat me like a stranger. i saw you looking away in the lecture hall. i saw the sweatpants, the oversized hoodies. i knew what you were doing. you were trying to build a wall."

your breath hitched. you hated how easily he read you, how easily he dismantled the armor you had spent weeks desperately piecing together. "i had to," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "it was the right thing to do. you have... a life. you have minji."

hearing his wife's name leave your lips made heeseung flinch slightly. his jaw clenched, a muscle working in his cheek. he closed his eyes for a brief second, letting out a ragged breath that sounded like a confession.

"my marriage was over long before you ever walked into my classroom, y/n," he whispered, opening his eyes to look down at you with a vulnerability that completely broke your heart. "it's an arrangement of convenience, a cold routine of two people living separate lives under the same roof. she doesn't care where i am. she doesn't care what i think. and she certainly doesn't look at me the way you do."

he stepped closer, closing the remaining distance until you were mere inches apart. you could feel the heat radiating from his chest, his presence completely overwhelming your senses.

"when you look at me," heeseung murmured, his dark eyes dropping to your mouth, completely transfixed, "i feel like a man who actually exists. not just a professor. not just a name on a legal document. you are a distraction i never anticipated, and no matter how much math i use, i can't calculate my way out of wanting you."

your heart was beating so hard you were certain he could see it pulsing against the fabric of your jacket. you looked into his eyes, seeing the desperate, magnetic pull that had been unravelling him just as much as it had been unravelling you. the symmetry was completely broken now, the boundary shattered beyond repair.

"heeseung..." your voice was barely a breath, your lower lip trembling.

"don't," he rough-whispered, his hands rising instinctively as if to catch you, his fingers hovering just inches from your waist, trembling slightly with the sheer force of his self-control. "don't look at me like that if you're going to tell me to stop."

you look up into his dark eyes, the logic and rules of the universe fading into nothing but the heavy sound of the rain outside. you don't tell him to stop. instead, you take a small, deliberate step forward, closing the final inch between you.

"i'm not telling you to stop," you whisper.

heeseung lets out a low, ragged sound—halfway between a sigh and a groan—and all of his carefully guarded self-control completely fractures. his hands close around your waist, his grip firm and desperate as he pulls you flush against him. the heat of his body hits you like a physical wave, and before you can even catch your breath, his mouth is on yours.

the kiss is nothing like the soft, polite persona he presents to the world. it is intense, unyielding, and heavy with the weeks of suffocating restraint he has been forced to maintain. his lips are warm and demanding, parting yours with a possessive hunger that leaves you completely dizzy. your bag slips from your shoulder, thudding softly against the floor as your hands instinctively fly up to chest, gripping the fabric of his black button-up before tangling into the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

heeseung pulls you even closer, his fingers digging into the fabric of your jacket, lifting you slightly until you are completely anchored to him. he kisses you like you are the answer to a problem he has been trying to solve his entire life, his breath hot against your skin as his mouth slides down to trace the sharp line of your jaw, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"y/n," he rough-whispers against your skin, his chest rising and falling in heavy, erratic thuds. "you have completely ruined me."

you arch your neck, a quiet gasp escaping your lips as his mouth moves back up to find yours again, softer this time but twice as deep. the silver wedding band on his hand presses cold against your hip, a sharp contrast to the burning heat radiating between your bodies, but for the first time in weeks, the sight of it doesn't make you step back. the boundary hasn't just been crossed—it has been entirely rewritten.

when he finally pulls away, just enough to breathe, his forehead rests against yours. his dark eyes are blown out, staring down at your flushed face and parted, swollen lips. he runs a trembling thumb over your lower lip, tracing the habit he had called dangerous, his expression full of a terrifying, beautiful devotion.

the rain continues to pour over the old auditorium, but inside the dim shadows of the stage, the chaos has finally found its alignment.

heeseung’s thumb lingers on your lower lip, his breathing gradually slowing down, though the grip on your waist remains unyieldingly tight, as if he’s terrified that letting go will cause you to vanish back into the safe reality of the lecture hall.

you rest your forehead against his chest, listening to the rapid, frantic rhythm of his heart underneath the black fabric. it matches yours perfectly—an identical frequency born from the same chaotic collision.

"we can't change the past, heeseung," you whisper softly into the quiet space between you, your fingers gently smoothing the collar of his shirt. "and we can't ignore the outside world forever."

"i know," he murmurs, his voice vibrating deep in his chest. he tilts your chin up with his index finger, forcing you to look into his dark eyes, which are now filled with a quiet, resolute calm. "but i'm not asking for forever right now. i'm just asking for this. for us. let me figure out the rest, y/n. just don't hide from me again."

you look at him—at the brilliant, unraveled professor who had completely rewritten your understanding of gravity—and nod slowly. "i won't."

a small, genuine smile finally breaks through his serious expression, softening his features in a way you've never seen before. he leans down to press one last, lingering kiss to your forehead before reluctantly loosening his grip around your waist.

bending down, he picks up your fallen bag and hands it to you, his fingers intentionally brushing against yours, leaving behind a faint, tingling warmth. he walks you to the heavy oak doors of the auditorium, checking the hallway first to ensure it's completely deserted before letting you step out into the dim corridor.

"go home safe, y/n," he says quietly, his eyes tracking your flushed face one last time. "i'll see you in class tomorrow morning."

"good night, heeseung," you murmur with a soft smile, finally turning to walk down the hallway.

as you step out of the science building and into the cool, damp night air, the torrential downpour has reduced to a gentle, rhythmic drizzle. your face is still burning, and your chest feels lighter than it has in weeks. you finally look down at your hand, your fingers tracing the memory of his touch. the symmetry of your world is completely gone, broken into a million unpredictable pieces, but as you walk toward your dorm under the dark campus sky, you realize you've never felt more alive.

chapter seven: the thermal equilibrium

the next morning, the lecture hall feels different. the air is thick with a tension only two people in the room can detect. you sit in your usual spot—second row to the left—staring down at your notebook, but your fingers are loose around your pen this time, no longer gripping it like a lifeline.

when heeseung walks through the door, a quiet hush falls over the classroom. he looks impeccable, as always. his gray button-up shirt is crisply pressed, his dark hair neatly styled away from his eyes, and his glasses sit perfectly on the bridge of his nose. to anyone else, he is the picture of rigid, academic authority.

but you notice the slight hesitation in his step as he reaches the podium. you notice the way his dark eyes sweep over the lecture hall, bypassing thirty other students before anchoring completely on you for one long, burning second.

"good morning, class," he says, his voice carrying that familiar, commanding warmth. "today we are moving on to thermodynamics and thermal equilibrium."

as he turns to write on the whiteboard, you see his broad shoulders move beneath the fabric of his shirt. the memory of those same shoulders shifting under the spotlight in the auditorium hits you with a sudden, violent wave of heat. your cheeks flush, and you quickly look down at your book, your heart beginning its familiar, erratic dance.

throughout the two-hour lecture, heeseung explains the zeroth law—how two systems in thermal equilibrium with a third system are in equilibrium with each other. it is a lesson about balance, about heat transferring until everything reaches a stable, uniform temperature.

but every time he speaks, his voice seems lower, rougher, directed straight at the second row. when he raises his eyebrows to emphasize a point, his gaze lingers on your face, watching the way you absorb his words. you try your best to look like a diligent student, but your lower lip caught between your teeth betrays your composure.

heeseung’s eyes immediately drop to your mouth. his hand freezes for a fraction of a second against the board, the marker stalling mid-equation, before he forces himself to finish the sentence. the sudden, quiet crack in his professional armor makes a small, secret smile touch the corners of your lips.

when the bell finally rings, signaling the end of the period, the classroom fills with the usual rustle of papers and shuffling feet. you take your time packing your bag, your movements deliberate as the room gradually empties.

"y/n," heeseung’s voice calls out casually from the front of the room, sounding perfectly normal to the few lingering students walking out the door. "a moment, please. i wanted to review your matrix transformations from tuesday."

you look up, your heart skipping a beat. "of course, heeseung."

once the last student steps out and the heavy door clicks shut, the atmosphere in the room shifts instantly. the large lecture hall suddenly feels incredibly small. heeseung sets his marker down and walks around the podium, stopping just a few feet away from your desk.

"you're distracting me," he rough-whispers, his dark eyes searching your face with a quiet, intense fondness. "sitting there, wearing that sweater, biting your lip... i barely made it through the lecture."

you chuckle softly, leaning back against the desk as you look up at him. "i was just taking notes, professor. i was being a model student."

"a model student doesn't look at her professor the way you look at me," he murmurs, stepping closer until he is standing directly over you, completely blocking out the rest of the empty room. he reaches out, his hand hovering for a second before his index finger gently traces the line of your jaw, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

the silver wedding band on his hand catches the harsh fluorescent light, but the sight no longer feels like a barrier. it feels like a problem he is actively working to solve.

"are we still on for next tuesday evening?" he asks, his voice dropping into that low, raspy register that always makes your knees weak. "there's a lot of advanced material we need to cover. outside of the syllabus."

"yes," you whisper, your breathing turning shallow at his closeness. "i'll be there."

"good." heeseung smiles, a genuine, beautiful expression that changes his entire face, before reluctantly pulling his hand away as footsteps echo in the hallway outside. "go to your next class, y/n. before i forget where we are entirely."

you nod quickly, a small, breathless smile pulling at your lips as you swing your bag over your shoulder. the briefest glance back at him confirms he is still watching you, his expression intense and entirely focused. you slip through the classroom door and merge into the bustling flow of students in the hallway.

the contrast is dizzying. outside, everyone is rushing to their next lecture, completely oblivious to the fact that the universe has completely shifted inside that classroom. your skin still pricksles where his finger traced your jaw.

the days leading up to tuesday pass in a blur of anticipation. you find yourself studying harder than ever, diving deep into the thermodynamic equations, almost as if mastering the physics is your way of proving you belong in his orbit. you want him to see that you aren't just a distraction—that you understand the complexity of what's happening between you, both on the pages and in reality.

when tuesday evening finally arrives, the science building is quiet. you walk up the stairs, your boots making a faint, rhythmic sound against the linoleum. tonight, you chose a simple dark gray knit top and jeans—neat, deliberate, but comfortably yourself.

you stand outside his office door, your heart doing its familiar, erratic dance against your ribs. taking a deep breath, you raise your hand and knock softly.

the door opens almost immediately. heeseung stands there, the soft, golden light of his desk lamp framing him from behind. he has abandoned his usual formal blazer, wearing just a sharp black button-up shirt with the sleeves already rolled up to his elbows, exposing the strong lines of his forearms.

his dark eyes instantly lock onto yours, sweeping down your frame before returning to meet your gaze. the exhausting weight he usually carries seems to lift the moment he looks at you.

"good evening, y/n," he says softly, his voice carrying that heavy, raspy resonance that immediately makes the outside world fade away. "come in."

"good evening, heeseung," you murmur, stepping into the warm, familiar sanctuary of his office. the scent of old paper, rich coffee, and his clean cologne instantly wraps around you.

as he closes the door behind you, the solid click of the lock signals the start of your private hour. heeseung doesn't move back to his desk right away. instead, he stays close, leaning his back against the closed door, tracking your movements as you set your bag down.

"i missed you this weekend," he confesses quietly, the raw honesty in his voice catching you completely off guard.

your throat goes dry, and you turn around to face him, your notebook clutched against your chest. "i missed you too. i spent the whole weekend reading the thermodynamics chapters."

heeseung lets out a quiet, breathless chuckle, his eyes softening with an overwhelming fondness that makes your chest tight. he steps away from the door, closing the distance between you until he is standing right in front of you, completely enveloping your field of vision.

"only you would try to fight loneliness with thermodynamics, y/n," he whispers, reaching out to gently take the notebook from your hands and setting it on the edge of the desk behind you without ever breaking eye contact.

his hands move smoothly to your waist, his long fingers pressing firmly through the fabric of your knit top, pulling you just an inch closer. the silver band on his left hand catches the golden light of the lamp, but as you look up into his dark, devoted eyes, you know he is already calculating the path toward a completely different future.

before you can even process it, his mouth is already on yours. his lips, soft and plump against yours, feel like kissing a cloud. throughout your short life you have experienced pleasures, but nothing compares to his lips.

his hand reaches to cup your jaw, a silent ask for permission for more access. you open your mouth against his and his tongue slides into your mouth; it's warm and it tastes like coffee. the combination of his deliberately slow movements against your mouth and his hand on your waist steals a soft gasp from you, making him bite your bottom lip softly before pulling back.

“don't make those sounds, y/n. i'm trying to be a gentleman,” he whispers against your lips, his fingers caressing your jaw while looking into your eyes. and you swear you can see everything he is holding back. the combination of his strong gaze, his hold, and his voice sends a shiver down your spine that pools into heat between your legs.

you immediately clear your throat. “the session, heeseung.”

“right, the session,” he mutters before kissing your cheek softly and walking towards his desk. “sit, please.”

you seat yourself in front of him, your cheeks flushing.

he sits back down in his leather chair, the formal professor persona patching itself back together, though his breathing is still a little too shallow to be completely professional. he pulls your notebook toward him, his long fingers tracing the margin of the page where your equations are written. for a few seconds, he just stares at the paper, his jaw clenching as he forces his mind back to the physics.

"thermodynamics," he starts, his voice rougher and lower than usual. he clears his throat, fixing his glasses with his index finger. "it's the study of heat and energy. specifically, how systems interact when they are brought together."

you try to focus on his words, but your eyes keep darting to his mouth, remembering the exact texture of his lips. you pull a strand of hair behind your ear, your hands still trembling slightly. "mhm. the exchange of energy."

"exactly," heeseung says, his dark eyes flicking up from the book to catch your gaze. the intensity in his eyes makes the air in the small office feel thick again. "when two bodies of different temperatures come into contact, they don't stay separate. they change each other. heat flows from the hotter system to the colder one until they reach... a uniform state."

he leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk, bringing his face closer to yours. the scent of his woodsy cologne drifts across the short distance, mixing with the lingering warmth of the kiss.

"it's an inevitable law of nature, y/n," he whispers, his gaze dropping down to your lower lip before rising back to your eyes. "no matter how much insulation you put between the two systems, if the attraction is there... the energy will always find a way to transfer."

you swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the edge of your seat. "and what happens when they reach that state?"

heeseung's mouth twitches into a faint, devastatingly handsome smile, his thumb unconsciously rubbing the silver wedding band on his finger—a habit that feels less like a shield now and more like a loose thread he's waiting to pull.

"they reach equilibrium," he murmurs, his voice dropping into that hypnotic register. "the chaos settles. but the system is permanently altered. it can never go back to how it was before they touched."

the silence hangs between you, heavy and filled with everything left unsaid. he opens the textbook to a page dense with graphs and formulas, turning it toward you, but his fingers linger on the edge of the paper, just inches away from yours.

"let's look at the mathematics behind the transfer," he says, though his eyes tell a completely different story. "show me how you solve for the entropy, y/n.”

you pick up your pen, trying to anchor yourself to the solid reality of the paper. your fingers are still trembling slightly, and when you lean forward to write out the first derivative, your sleeve brushes against his forearm. a tiny, accidental spark of friction that makes your hand stall for a second.

"first, you... you have to isolate the thermal variables," you say, your voice a little breathy as you force yourself to look at the equations instead of the sharp angle of his jaw. "if the system is closed, the total change in entropy has to be greater than or equal to zero."

"correct," heeseung murmurs, his eyes tracking the movement of your pen, but his head is leaning closer, his shoulder almost touching yours as he watches you write. "and what happens to the internal energy during that expansion?"

"it... it changes based on the heat added and the work done," you reply, your heart doing that familiar, erratic dance against your ribs. you write down the formula, but you accidentally mess up a sign, the ink smudging under your finger as you try to fix it. "sorry. my hands are..."

"i see that," he interrupts softly.

before you can draw your hand back, his large, warm hand slides across the desk and covers yours, stopping your pen. his palm is slightly rough, the heat of his skin instantly transferring to yours, exactly like the thermodynamic law he was just explaining. his fingers curl over your knuckles, grounding your shaking hand against the smooth wood of the desk.

the silver band on his finger presses gently against the side of your hand, cold against your burning skin.

"you're skipping steps, y/n," he rough-whispers, his dark head hovering just inches from yours. you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest right beside you. "you're rushing the derivation because you're nervous."

"i'm not nervous," you lie in a whisper, turning your head slightly to look at him.

because of how close he's leaning, your faces are suddenly mere inches apart. your eyes lock onto his dark, blown-out pupils. heeseung doesn't pull his hand away; instead, his thumb begins to trace slow, deliberate circles over the back of your hand, completely erasing any thoughts of physics left in your brain.

"no?" he asks, his eyebrows raising just a fraction, a small, knowing look in his eyes. his gaze drops down to your lips, watching your shallow breaths. "your pulse is racing under my fingers, y/n. a system in perfect equilibrium doesn't fluctuate like this."

"that's because... you're a major perturbation," you murmur, using the physics terminology like a secret language between the two of you.

heeseung lets out a low, ragged huff of laughter that hits your cheek like a warm breeze. his jaw clenches, his eyes darkening as his self-control slips a little more. he slides the pen out of your fingers, letting it roll across the desk, and turns his hand over so his long fingers can interlock with yours, squeezing firmly.

"i told myself i was going to keep my hands to myself for the rest of this hour," he whispers, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly register that completely melts your resolve. "i told myself one kiss was enough to get me through the week. but you're devastatingly bad for my discipline."

"you can let go if you want to," you tease softly, even though your fingers are clinging to his just as tightly.

"i don't think i can," he admits, his tone suddenly turning incredibly serious, full of that heavy, raw honesty that makes your chest ache. he looks down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "that's the problem. i don't think i have the variable for walking away from you anymore.”

he looks up from your joined hands, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. the soft, golden light of the lamp reflects in his dark pupils, making the rest of his office look like it's completely fading into the background.

"heeseung," you whisper, the sound of his name breaking the quiet tension hanging in the air. "someone might... the hallway..."

"the door is locked, y/n," he murmurs, his voice incredibly low as he slides his hand up from your fingers, his palm tracking the inside of your wrist, feeling the frantic skip of your pulse. his touch travels up the sleeve of your knit top, his long fingers wrapping around your forearm to gently pull you a fraction of an inch closer across the desk. "there's no one out there. it's just us."

you swallow hard, your eyes dropping to his mouth again. the memory of how he tasted—like warm coffee and something entirely intoxicating—makes your lower lip tremble out of habit.

heeseung’s jaw tightens instantly at the movement. "i told you to stop doing that," he rough-whispers, his eyes burning as they lock onto your lips.

"i can't help it," you breathe out, your cheeks flushing a deeper pink.

he lets out a low groan, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. before you can even react, he stands up from his leather chair, rounding the edge of the desk in three swift, deliberate steps. he stops right beside your seat, his tall frame completely towering over you, blocking out the light.

his hands come down to rest on the armrests of your chair, effectively trapping you between his arms. he leans down until his face is level with yours, the clean, woodsy scent of his cologne enveloping your senses so completely it makes your head spin.

"if you keep looking at me like that, we aren't going to get any work done today," he murmurs, his thumb reaching out to gently trace the apple of your flushed cheek, his touch surprisingly soft for how large his hand is.

"we're supposed to be analyzing the entropy graphs," you say, though your voice lacks any real conviction. your hands rise instinctively, your fingers gently resting against his forearm, feeling the solid, rapid thud of his heart underneath.

"the graphs can wait," heeseung whispers against your lips, his fingers sliding into your hair, tilting your head back slightly. "right now, you're the only system i'm interested in calculating."

and then his mouth is on yours again, deeper this time, his lips parting yours with a possessive, heavy hunger that leaves you completely unmoored from reality.

his mouth moves against yours with a heavy, deliberate slowness that completely detaches you from the passage of time. you grip the soft wool of his dark blue sweater, pulling him closer until the desk behind you is the only thing keeping you upright. every touch from his hands feels like it's carving a permanent mark into your skin, a silent language of missing you that he hadn't been able to say out loud all week.

when he finally breaks the kiss, his breathing is ragged, his forehead resting heavily against yours. his thumbs gently trace your cheekbones, his long fingers tangled in the loose strands of hair that escaped your bun.

"i'm failing my own test," he rough-whispers, his chest heaving against your hands. his dark eyes are wide, blown out, looking down at you with a terrifying amount of devotion. "i promised myself i would give you a normal lesson today. i practiced the lecture. i organized the slides. and within ten minutes, i have you trapped against my desk."

you let out a soft, breathless laugh, your hands sliding up from his chest to rest against the nape of his neck, your fingers gently playing with the soft hairs there. "maybe some systems aren't meant to be controlled, heeseung."

he lets out a low, vibrating huff against your lips, his jaw clenching as he reluctantly pulls back just an inch, his hands dropping to rest loosely on your waist. he doesn't let go completely—you're beginning to realize he rarely does when you're alone in this room. it's as if he needs the physical touch to convince himself that you're actually here, that this isn't just another daydream born from the quiet isolation of his life.

"you have a dangerous effect on my logic, y/n," he murmurs, his index finger rising to habitually fix his glasses, though his hand shakes slightly.

looking at him like this—completely unraveled, his professional composure lying in pieces on the floor—makes a profound warmth ache deep in your chest. it isn't just the thrill of the secret or the heavy physical pull that makes your knees weak; it's something much deeper, something that has been quietly growing since the first day you sat in his classroom.

you had always felt like an outsider in your own life, moving through the world with a brain that felt too loud, constantly looking at everything through the cold, clinical lens of mathematics and formulas. people always thought you were too detached, too intensely focused on academic metrics. but heeseung was the first person who ever looked at your passion and didn't find it strange. he didn't just tolerate your enthusiasm; he matched it. when he spoke about the universe, he made it sound like poetry, and in doing so, he made you feel seen in a way no one else ever had. your feelings for him weren't just a silly student-teacher crush anymore. they were a total shift in your gravity. you loved the way his brilliant mind worked, the quiet kindness hidden beneath his strict authority, and the heavy, melancholic soul he kept hidden from the rest of the world.

"if i'm such a distraction in your office," you say softly, your voice carrying a sudden, brave confidence that makes his dark eyes flare with curiosity, "maybe we should change the environment."

heeseung tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "change the environment?"

you nod, your cheeks flushing a light pink, but you force yourself to maintain eye contact. "you liked the cookies. and you said you liked my dedication. i was thinking... you should come over to my apartment this Friday. i can make us dinner. I'm just as good at making italian food as i am with baking. we can actually look at the advanced coursework without... the fear of someone knocking on your office door."

the invitation hangs in the warm, golden light of the office, innocent on the surface but deeply intimate underneath. a private space. your space. away from the sterile campus walls and the prying eyes of his colleagues.

heeseung freezes, his long fingers tightening slightly against your waist as he processes your words. for a long moment, he doesn't say anything, his dark eyes searching your face as if trying to calculate the sheer weight of what you're offering. a slow, tired sigh escapes his lips, and he leans his hip back against the edge of the desk, looking down at his hands.

the silver wedding band glints under the lamp, looking entirely out of place against his dark clothes.

"italian food," he repeats softly, a faint, melancholic smile touching his lips, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "i can't remember the last time someone offered to cook a meal for me, y/n."

he looks up, his expression clouding over with a heavy, quiet sadness that makes your heart ache for him. he runs a hand through his dark hair, his voice dropping into a flat, exhausted register as he finally lets down the wall regarding his personal life.

"my marriage... it isn't just cold, y/n. it's completely hollow," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "it was an arrangement orchestrated by our families years ago. a transaction of social status and academic connections. minji’s father was the dean of the science department at my previous university, and my family... they saw it as the perfect alignment for my career. we never had a foundation. we never had a single conversation that wasn't calculated for an evening gala or a faculty dinner."

he lets out a dry, humorless chuckle, his thumb absentmindedly twisting the ring on his finger. "she lives in the east wing of our house. we haven't shared a meal in two years. she fills her time with high-society charity events and her own social circles, and i fill mine with equations because the numbers don't lie to me. my parents always told me that love was a secondary variable in a successful life—that duty and reputation were the only things that mattered. i believed them. i thought this quiet, freezing routine was all i deserved."

he steps closer to you again, his dark eyes swimming with a raw, exposed vulnerability that strips away every ounce of his thirty-two years.

"and then you walked into my quantum lecture," he whispers, his voice cracking slightly as his hand rises to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your soft skin. "you sat in the second row, looking at me like i hung the stars in the sky just because i was explaining molecular bonds. you brought homemade cookies into my sterile office. you looked at me like i was a human being, not just a tenured name on a legal document or a trophy husband for a political family."

your chest swells with a profound, overwhelming empathy. you can feel the decades of loneliness radiating from his skin, the heavy burden of a man who had been starved for genuine affection for so long that a simple box of baked goods felt like a miracle. your hand rises to cover his, pressing his warm palm firmer against your cheek.

"you do deserve it, heeseung," you murmur, your eyes shining with a deep, unyielding sincerity. "you deserve to have someone care about your day. you deserve to have someone listen to you play the piano because they love the music, not because it's a status symbol. i don't care about your reputation or your title. i just care about you."

heeseung’s breath hitches at your words. the sheer depth of your feelings hits him like a physical force, dismantling the very last of his internal resistance. he looks at you as if you are the only source of light in a room that has been dark for years.

"friday evening," he says, his voice rough and low, a firm, undeniable resolve finally taking root in his features. he leans down, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to your forehead, his eyes closing as he inhales your vanilla scent. "give me your address, y/n. i'll be there at seven.”

chapter eight: the transition state

the text with your address had been sitting on his phone since wednesday morning, a tiny coordinate of light in the quiet darkness of his routine. you had spent the entire day cleaning your small apartment, organizing the textbooks on your desk three times over, and listening to the steady, rhythmic hum of the rain against your kitchen window.

by six-thirty, the scent of crushed garlic, fresh basil, and simmering tomatoes had completely filled the small space, cutting through the usual scent of laundry detergent and old paper. you wore a soft, cream-colored knitted dress that hit just below your knees, your hair left down in natural waves. you looked neat, but comfortable—a stark contrast to the sterile, buttoned-up world heeseung was forced to live in every day.

at exactly seven o'clock, the soft knock on your door made your heart skip an entire beat.

you smoothed down the front of your dress, taking a deep, stabilizing breath before turning the lock. when you opened the door, heeseung was standing under the dim hallway light. he looked entirely different. he had left his formal overcoat in his car, wearing only a relaxed charcoal gray sweater with the sleeves loosely pushed up his forearms, and dark jeans. his hair was slightly damp from the drizzle outside, a few dark strands falling over his forehead.

for a long moment, he didn't say a word. his dark eyes just swept over your face, taking in the soft flush on your cheeks and the warm, inviting light of your apartment behind you. the exhaustion that usually sat heavy in his shoulders seemed to evaporate the moment his gaze anchored onto yours.

"good evening, y/n," he said, his voice carrying that familiar, low resonance that immediately turned your knees to jelly.

"good evening, heeseung," you murmured, stepping aside to let him in. "come in out of the rain."

as he stepped past you, the clean, woodsy scent of his cologne mixed instantly with the rich, warm aroma of the italian food cooking on the stove. heeseung stopped in the middle of your small living room, looking around the space with a quiet, almost reverent curiosity. your apartment wasn't grand like the cold, historical estate he shared with minji; it was small, cluttered with physics journals, a few house plants on the windowsill, and a soft velvet couch. but it felt alive. it felt warm.

"it smells incredible in here," he said softly, turning around to face you. a genuine, relaxed smile touched his lips—one that didn't carry a single trace of the polite, professional mask he wore at the university. "you weren't exaggerating about your skills."

"i told you, i'm a master of thermal reactions, whether it's molecules or marinara," you teased, the lighthearted joke slipping out easily now that the heavy oak doors of the science building weren't trapping you.

heeseung let out a low, breathless huff of laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners. he walked over to the small kitchen counter, setting down a bottle of red wine he had brought with him. as he set it down, your eyes instinctively flicked to his left hand.

the silver wedding band was gone.

there was only a faint, pale mark on his skin where the metal had rested for years—a lingering ghost of a past constraint, but the hand itself was entirely bare. your chest swelled with a sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion. he hadn't just promised to clear the path; he was actively doing it. the sheer depth of what he was risking for you—his career, his family's expectations, the rigid stability of his life—hit you with a profound gravity. you didn't just love him for his brilliant mind anymore; you loved him for the quiet courage he was showing just to stand in your kitchen.

"the wine is an older vintage," heeseung murmured, noticing your gaze but keeping his tone gentle as he closed the distance between you. he stopped just inches away, his tall frame blocking out the rest of the room. "a complex structure, but well-balanced. i thought it would pair well with whatever you were calculating on the stove."

"it's perfect," you whispered, looking up into his dark, devoted eyes.

heeseung didn't hesitate this time. his large, bare hands rose to gently cup your face, his long fingers sliding into your hair to support the back of your head. his palms were warm, his touch so incredibly tender it made your eyes flutter shut for a fraction of a second.

"i spent the entire drive here trying to remember the laws of professional distance," he rough-whispered, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, leaving a trail of pure fire against your skin. "but the moment i smelled the basil and saw you standing at the door... every single formula went entirely blank."

"then stop calculating, heeseung," you breathed out, your hands rising instinctively to rest against his chest, feeling the heavy, rapid thud of his heart underneath the soft charcoal wool. "just be here."

"i am here," he murmured against your lips, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly register that completely melted your final defenses. "i'm entirely yours."

and then his mouth descended onto yours, slow and deeply possessive, sealing the promise in the quiet sanctuary of your home.

the kiss is different from the ones in his office or the dim auditorium. there is no lingering panic of someone rattling the door handle, no cold shadow of a flashing phone screen on a desk. it is slow, heavy, and full of a quiet relief that makes your head spin. his lips press against yours with a deliberate plowness, parting them naturally, tasting faintly of the damp rain from outside and the deep, silent longing he’s been carrying all week.

his hands slide down from your face, his long fingers tracing the slope of your neck before anchoring firmly on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. the soft wool of his sweater presses against the knit of your dress, a perfect, frictionless contact. you let out a quiet sigh into his mouth, your fingers tightening into the fabric at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to his height, his warmth, his absolute gravity.

when he finally pulls back, his breathing is thick and erratic. he doesn't let go of your waist; instead, he rests his forehead against yours, his dark eyes blown out as he looks down at you in the dim light of your kitchen.

"if we keep doing that," he rough-whispers, a small, breathless smile pulling at the corner of his lips, "the thermal reaction on the stove is going to turn into a total system failure."

you chuckle softly, your cheeks burning with a deep, happy flush. "right. the pasta. we need to turn down the heat."

you reluctantly step out of his embrace, though his fingers linger on your hip until the very last second, a silent protest against the distance. you walk over to the stove, stirring the rich, simmering sauce while heeseung moves around the small counter, opening the bottle of wine he brought. you watch him from the corner of your eye—the way his broad shoulders move as he pours the dark liquid into two simple glasses, how relaxed he looks without the sharp, stiff lines of his university blazers.

"sit at the table, heeseung. it's almost ready," you say, draining the pasta and tossing it into the pan with the fresh marinara.

he obeys without a word, taking a seat at your small wooden table. the space is tight, meaning when you bring over the plates and sit across from him, your knees are only inches apart under the wood. you serve the food, suddenly feeling a little shy under the weight of his steady, admiring gaze.

"buon appetito," you murmur, lifting your glass of wine.

heeseung smiles, clinking his glass against yours. "buon appetito, y/n."

he takes a bite, chewing slowly, and for a second, his eyes close. a low, genuine sound of appreciation escapes his throat, making your heart leap with pride. when he opens his eyes, they are shining with a quiet warmth. "this is incredible. the balance of the acidity, the fresh herbs... it’s perfect."

"i told you. i don't mess up my proportions," you say softly, taking a sip of the wine. it's rich, deep, and warm, spreading through your chest and loosening the last of your nervousness.

"clearly," he mutters, his gaze lingering on your mouth before he continues eating.

as the dinner progresses, the conversation flows with an ease that surprises both of you. away from the lecture hall, you don't talk about gauge fields or state vectors. instead, you talk about the music he used to listen to when he lived in germany for his doctorate, the small bakery you want to open after you finish your degree, and the quiet, ordinary things that make up your days. he listens to you with a rapt, undivided attention, his elbows resting on the table as he leans in, hanging on every word that leaves your lips.

"minji and i never sat like this," heeseung says suddenly, his voice dropping into a quiet, reflective tone as he finishes his glass of wine. he stares down at the empty plate, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. the pale, un-tanned line on his ring finger is clearly visible. "even at the very beginning. our dinners were always catered events. we had staff in the house, or we were out at a restaurant with colleagues. everything was a performance. i had to wear a tie just to have breakfast."

he looks up, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

"coming here tonight... sitting at this table, eating food you made yourself, seeing the flour smudge on your apron earlier... it feels like the first real thing i’ve experienced in a very long time," he whispers, his jaw clenching slightly with the weight of his emotion. "my family always told me that a quiet life was a wasted life. that i needed status. but they were wrong. this... this is the only thing that actually matters."

your throat tightens, a profound, aching tenderness swelling in your chest. you reach across the small table, your fingers sliding over the polished wood until they cover his bare hand. his fingers instantly turn over, interlocking with yours, squeezing with a tight, desperate strength.

"you don't have to perform for me, heeseung," you say softly, your voice carrying the full weight of the love you’ve been keeping hidden. "you never have to wear a mask in this room."

heeseung stares at your joined hands, letting out a long, shaky breath. the quiet in your apartment is absolute, save for the soft patter of the rain against the glass, creating a private, impenetrable bubble around the two of you. the transition state is over; the old system has completely collapsed, and as he looks back up at you with those deep, devoted eyes, you know there is absolutely no going back.

heeseung doesn't say anything for a long moment, but the way his fingers tighten around yours says more than any complex formula ever could. he slowly stands up from his chair, his tall frame stepping around the small wooden table until he is standing right beside you. he reaches down, his large hands gently taking your empty wine glass and setting it aside before pulling you up by your waist to face him.

the warmth of his body hits you instantly, a comforting barrier against the cool rain pressing against the windowpane. his eyes trace every detail of your face—the soft curve of your cheekbones, the slight parting of your lips, the deep, unyielding affection shining in your eyes.

"i want to show you something," he whispers, his voice dropping into that low, raspy register that always makes your pulse spike.

he keeps one hand anchored securely around your waist, guiding you over to the small, cozy corner of your living room where your velvet couch sits. instead of sitting, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. for a second, a small flare of old anxiety rises in your throat, but it vanishes completely when heeseung opens a music app and selects a piece.

the soft, rich notes of a classical piano piece—the exact melancholic melody he had been playing in the empty auditorium—fill the quiet space of your apartment, drifting through the warm, garlic-and-basil-scented air.

"i can't bring a grand piano into your apartment tonight," he murmurs, a beautiful, genuine smile softening the sharp lines of his face as he slips his phone back into his pocket. "but i promised you a private concert, y/n. let me give you this much for now."

your heart swells so intensely it feels almost painful in your chest. you look up at him, completely captivated by the sheer thoughtfulness of the gesture. "heeseung..."

"dance with me," he rough-whispers, not giving you a chance to overthink.

his hands slide smoothly down to your hips, pulling you flush against his chest. your hands rise naturally, your fingers tangling into the soft charcoal wool at his shoulders, your chin resting against his chest as the two of you begin to sway slowly to the rhythm of the recorded piano notes. the movement is unhurried, natural, and deeply intimate.

with every slow step, the rest of the world—the university, the prying eyes of his colleagues, the cold ghost of his past marriage—fades into complete non-existence. there are no laws of professional distance here. there are no parameters to maintain. there is only the steady, synchronized rhythm of your heartbeats meeting through the fabric of your clothes.

heeseung leans down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning across your skin as he inhales the sweet, lingering scent of your vanilla perfume. a low, contented sigh escapes his lips, his grip on your waist tightening as if he is finally anchoring himself to the only shore that matters.

"this is the equilibrium, y/n," he murmurs against your skin, his voice carrying a profound, heavy peace that strips away the very last of his analytical armor. "no more chaos. no more hiding."

you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, seeing the terrifying, beautiful devotion written in every sharp feature of his face. you reach up, your thumb gently tracing the small mole on his forehead before sliding down to rest against his cheek.

"i love you, heeseung," the confession slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, quiet and steady, carrying the absolute weight of every silent glance and nervous blush from the past months.

heeseung’s breath hitches. his dark pupils blow out completely, his jaw clenching as the words wash over him. he doesn't respond with equations or logic. instead, he closes the final inch between you, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that is slow, deep, and overflowing with a raw, unspoken promise. it is the final seal on a newly rewritten system.

when the music finally fades into a quiet hum, leaving only the gentle, rhythmic drizzle of the rain outside, heeseung keeps you held tightly against his chest in the dim, golden light of your living room. the old symmetry is completely broken, shattered beyond any hope of repair, but as you close your eyes and let his warmth envelope you, you know that the new balance you've found together is entirely flawless.

chapter nine: the boundary layer

the rain didn't stop. by monday night, the gentle drizzle from the weekend had mutated into a cold, relentless downpour that lashed against the high windows of the science building. in physics, a boundary layer is the thin fluid layer immediately adjacent to a solid surface where friction forces are dominant. it is a place of constant shear stress. a place where the smooth, predictable flow of a system violently breaks apart.

you stood inside the empty computer lab, the cold blue glow of your laptop screen illuminating the dark room. your fingers hovered over the keyboard, but you hadn't typed a single line of code in thirty minutes.

the ghost of his touch was still burning into your skin. the memory of his bare hand interlocking with yours at your kitchen table, the low, gravelly vibration of his voice when he whispered *i'm entirely yours*—it had felt like a permanent shift in reality. but reality has a cruel way of asserting its original parameters.

your phone buzzed against the plastic table. a sharp, violent vibration that made your chest tighten with an immediate, defensive anxiety.

you picked it up, expecting his name, his neat, lowercase texts. instead, your stomach dropped into a freezing void. it was a link to a campus forum post, sent by a classmate with a single sentence: *is this about your mentoring sessions?*

your hands shook so violently you almost dropped the device as you clicked the link. the headline was a blur of hostile, clinical words: **unprofessional conduct in the physics department: anonymous report details inappropriate relationship between tenured faculty and undergraduate student.**

there were no names, but the details were surgical. *tuesday evening office hours.* *one-on-one mentoring outside the standard syllabus.* *frequent private interactions.* the comments underneath were already multiplying like a malignant cell culture, filled with speculation, judgment, and the cold, unyielding disgust of a university community that valued reputation above all else.

the air left your lungs in a ragged gasp. the walls of the computer lab felt like they were actively closing in, suffocating you. *our secret.* *don't mention this arrangement to anyone.* his warning from that very first morning echoed in your ears, no longer a thrilling, forbidden whisper, but a heavy, iron cage slamming shut.

you didn't think. you shoved your laptop into your bag, your breath coming in shallow, frantic hitches as you sprinted out of the lab and up the stairs toward the second floor. your wet boots skidded against the linoleum, the quiet corridors echoing with the panicked rhythm of your escape.

when you reached his office door, you didn't knock softly. you pushed it open, the heavy wood hitting the inner wall with a dull, loud thud.

heeseung was there. but the warm, golden sanctuary of his office was gone. the soft desk lamp was turned off, replaced by the harsh, blinding overhead fluorescents that made his skin look stark, pale, and entirely exhausted. his blazer was back on, tightly buttoned, his tie perfectly straight. the rigid, untouchable professor stood behind the desk, staring down at a formal, cream-colored letter bearing the official seal of the university board.

he looked up when the door slammed, his dark eyes hollow, stripped completely of the beautiful, relaxed warmth from friday night.

"y/n," he said, his voice flat, carrying a terrifyingly professional distance that made your heart fracture on impact. "you shouldn't be here."

"is it true?" your voice cracked, a raw, breathy sound against the hum of the overhead lights. you pulled out your phone, your trembling fingers holding up the screen toward him. "the forum... the board. heeseung, someone knows."

heeseung didn't look at the phone. he kept his eyes locked on your face, his jaw clenching so hard the muscle in his cheek flickered violently. he slowly slid the formal letter into his desk drawer, closing it with a quiet, final click.

"the dean called me into his office an hour ago," heeseung whispered, his voice sounding entirely empty, like a machine running out of fuel. "an anonymous report was filed with the ethics committee. they have dates, y/n. they have the log of my office door locks opening after hours on tuesdays."

"who told them?" you stepped closer, your chest heaving, tears finally hot and blurring your vision. "we didn't tell anyone. i kept the secret. i swear i did—"

"it doesn't matter who told them," he interrupted, his tone suddenly turning sharp, cutting through your panic with a cold, clinical precision that made you flinch. he stood up straight, crossing his arms over his chest—the exact posture he used when a student failed an exam. "the reality is the same. an investigation has been opened. until it resolves, all private mentoring is suspended. effective immediately."

you froze, the coldness of his demeanor hitting you like a physical wave. you looked down at his left hand.

the silver wedding band was back on his finger.

it glinted stubbornly under the harsh fluorescent light, a cold, metallic shield separating him from you, separating the professor from the man who had danced with you in your living room.

"you put it back on," you whispered, the words tasting like ash in your mouth. you pointed a trembling finger at his hand. "friday night... you said you were starting the paperwork. you said you were fixing the variables. but the second a breeze hits the system, you slide the ring back on?"

heeseung’s composure cracked for a fraction of a second. he closed his eyes, let out a long, ragged breath that sounded like a groan of pure agony, and rubbed his temples. "y/n, you don't understand the logistics of this. a scandal like this doesn't just damage my reputation—it terminates my tenure. it destroys your academic career before it even begins. if they find proof of misconduct, your degree is compromised. your future in this field is over."

"i don't care about the degree!" you yelled, the sob tearing through your throat, loud and unraveled in the quiet office. "i care about you! i told you i loved you, heeseung! and you're standing behind that desk looking at me like i'm a data error you need to delete from your ledger!"

"don't say that," he rough-whispered, his eyes snapping open, suddenly dark and burning with a desperate, suffocating pain. he took a step around the desk, his hands rising instinctively as if to reach for you, but he stopped himself, his fingers curling into tight fists at his sides as he stared at the closed door behind you. the invisible boundary between professor and student had instantly turned into a solid brick wall. "god, y/n, don't you think this is killing me? i haven't slept in three days. but i have to protect you. and the only way to protect you right now is to return to the original state."

"the original state," you repeated, a bitter, hollow laugh escaping your lips as the tears ran down your cheeks. "you mean the state where you're a married professor and i'm just a face in the second row? the state where we pretend we never touched?"

heeseung looked away, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, his posture rigid, frozen under the weight of his family's legacy and the university's unyielding laws. "yes," he whispered, the single word sounding like a death sentence. "for now... we have to be strangers."

you stared at him, looking at the long, elegant line of his shoulders, the dark hair falling over his eyes, the absolute brilliance of the man you had given your heart to. and you realized, with a terrifying, absolute certainty, that physics had lied to you.

some systems don't reach equilibrium when they touch. some systems just collide until they completely destroy each other.

"okay," you breathed out, your voice dropping into a dead, flat quiet. you pulled your bag tighter against your shoulder, turning your back on him before he could see your face completely shatter. "goodnight, mr. lee."

you gripped the handle, pulled open the door, and walked out into the freezing, empty corridor, the heavy click of the lock behind you sounding like the final, definitive snap of a broken bond.

the walk back to your apartment was a blur of freezing rain and neon headlights reflecting off the wet asphalt. your clothes were soaked through, the heavy fabric of your coat pressing against your skin like a physical manifestation of the gravity that was currently crushing you. when you finally shut the door behind you, the silence of your living room was deafening. the faint, lingering scent of basil and rosemary from friday night still hung in the air—a cruel, haunting reminder of a system that had been completely dismantled in a matter of minutes.

you dropped your bag onto the floor, not caring as your expensive physics textbooks spilled out onto the hardwood. you sank down against the front door, pulling your knees tightly against your chest, and let the first real sob tear through your throat.

you were entirely alone.

that was the brutal reality of your situation. you had left your hometown—a small, suffocatingly quiet coastal suburb three hundred miles away—specifically to escape the predictable, pre-determined life your family had mapped out for you. they wanted you to stay local, to marry a sensible boy from the neighborhood, and to take an ordinary office job that didn't require you to stay up until three in the morning analyzing the thermodynamic properties of stars. they didn't understand your brain. they looked at your passion for mathematics as an eccentric phase rather than a calling.

moving to this university was supposed to be your great escape, your chance to finally find a community that spoke your language. instead, you had found heeseung—a man who understood your soul so perfectly it terrified you—only for the world to rip him away the second you dared to reach for him. now, the very field of study that had given you a sense of purpose felt like a minefield.

your phone buzzed in your pocket. your heart gave a pathetic, hopeful leap, but when you pulled it out, you saw it wasn't him. it was a video call invitation from an international area code.

jia.

you stared at her name through a screen blurred by tears. jia had been your absolute anchor since the seventh grade. while you were the quiet, analytical girl hiding in the back of the geometry class, jia was the loud, fiercely protective force who refused to let the world ignore you. you had done everything together until university lines drew you apart; she had received a prestigious scholarship to study architecture in milan, italy, leaving you three hundred miles away in your university town. the physical distance was immense, but the emotional matrix between the two of you had never faltered.

with a trembling thumb, you swiped to accept the call.

jia’s face immediately filled the screen. she was sitting in her brightly lit apartment in milan, surrounded by rolled-up drafting paper, a half-empty cup of espresso, and the warm morning light of an italian dawn breaking through her window. but the second her eyes landed on your face—your red eyes, your soaked hair, your unraveled expression—her smile vanished instantly.

"y/n?" jia’s voice came through the speaker, sharp with immediate concern, completely ignoring the thousands of miles between you. "what happened? why are you sitting on the floor? are you hurt?"

hearing her voice—the familiar, steady cadence of home—broke the last of your restraint. another wave of hot tears spilled over your cheeks, a choked sound escaping your lips. "jia... everything is ruined. the whole system... it completely collapsed."

"hey, hey, look at me. take a breath," jia commanded softly, her structural, logical brain instantly kicking into high gear. she set her drafting pen down, leaning close to her camera, her eyes fierce with a protective anger. "is this about the professor? did something happen with heeseung?"

you nodded miserably, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your damp knit dress. you hadn't hidden the relationship from jia. in fact, she was the only person in the entire universe who knew the truth. she was the one you had texted at midnight after the auditorium, the one who had practically screamed over the phone when you told her heeseung took off his ring in his office.

"someone filed a report," you choked out, your voice sounding small and fragile in the empty apartment. "an anonymous report to the ethics committee. it's all over the campus forums. they have dates, jia. they know about the after-hours sessions. heeseung... he called me into his office tonight. or, no, i ran to his office. and he was so cold. he put the ring back on."

jia’s jaw clenched, a low curse word in italian escaping her lips. "he what?"

"he told me we have to be strangers," you whispered, the words physically hurting your chest as you repeated them. "he said it's the only way to protect my degree and his tenure. he looked at me like... like i was just an equation he needed to balance out. jia, i told him i loved him on friday. we danced right here in my kitchen. and tonight, he wouldn't even let me step past his desk. he wouldn't even look at me."

jia let out a long, slow breath, her expression shifting from anger to a deep, profound sadness for you. she knew how hard it was for you to let people in. she knew that your feelings for heeseung weren't a shallow infatuation; they were the first time you had ever felt completely aligned with another human being.

"listen to me, y/n," jia said, her voice dropping into a firm, unyielding tone that brooked no argument. "heeseung isn't acting out of malice. he's a thirty-two-year-old man who has been trapped in a cold, transactional life for a decade. when a man like that gets a taste of actual warmth—of what he has with you—he panics the second the cage doors start rattling. he's terrified. not just for his job, but because he knows what the world does to things that are genuine."

"but it feels like he's abandoning me," you sobbed, hiding your face in your hands. "he's leaving me alone in this city."

"he's trying to build a shield around you the only way his stupid, over-analytical brain knows how," jia said softly, her eyes swimming with empathy across the digital screen. "is it fair? no. it's incredibly messy, and it hurts like hell. but you are not alone. do you hear me? you left that tiny hometown because you were strong enough to seek out your own orbit. you are brilliant, y/n. don't let this university, or his fear, make you feel like you don't belong in that room."

you pulled your hands away from your face, looking at your best friend. the distance between milan and your small apartment felt agonizingly wide, yet her words felt like the only solid thing you could hold onto in the middle of the storm.

"i don't know how to walk into that lecture hall tomorrow, jia," you admitted, your breathing finally starting to slow down. "i don't know how to look at the whiteboard and pretend my heart isn't completely broken."

"you don't look at him," jia said firmly, a small, encouraging smile finally touching her lips. "you look at the physics. you prove to every single person in that room that you belong there because of your mind. let him sit in his cold office and watch you excel from the second row without him. let him see exactly what he's choosing to lock away."

you let out a shaky, breathy sigh, a tiny fraction of the weight in your chest lifting just from her presence. "thank you, jia."

"always, watchmaker," jia used your old childhood nickname, her eyes warm. "now, go take a hot shower, change into dry clothes, and leave the phone on. i'm going to finish my sketches, and i'm staying right here on the screen until you fall asleep. the Atlantic ocean doesn't mean a damn thing when it comes to us."

you offered her a small, fragile smile, nodding as you stood up from the floor. as you walked toward the bathroom, leaving the phone propped up on the kitchen counter where jia’s steady breathing and the scratching of her pencil filled the silence, you realized the boundary layer hadn't destroyed you completely. the flow was turbulent, the friction was agonizing, but you were still moving forward.

chapter ten: the critical point

the next morning, the campus was a study in gray. the rain had finally slowed to a dismal, heavy fog that hung between the brick buildings, swallowing the tops of the faculty towers. you walked up the stone steps of the science building, your knuckles white around the strap of your bag. jia’s words from the night before were an explicit boundary layer in your mind, keeping the panic from completely taking over your nervous system. *look at the physics. let him see exactly what he's choosing to lock away.*

when you pushed open the heavy double doors of the main lecture hall, the atmosphere was thick. the room was already half-full, the low hum of student gossip dropping by a noticeable fraction the second you stepped into the aisle.

you felt the weight of a hundred glances. the anonymous forum post had done its work; the parameters of your presence had been altered. people weren't looking at your high test scores or your neat notebook anymore. they were looking for a symptom. they were looking for a crack in the armor.

your lower lip trembled out of habit, but you caught it between your teeth, forcing your expression into a neutral, clinical mask. you didn't look left or right. you walked straight down the steps, past the third row, and took your exact seat in the middle of the second row. you pulled out your notebook, aligned your pen with the edge of the desk, and stared directly at the blank whiteboard.

at exactly eight o'clock, the side door opened.

heeseung stepped into the room. the sight of him sent a sharp, violent spike of heat straight through your chest, followed immediately by an icy chill. he was impeccably put together—the dark gray blazer was buttoned, his tie a sharp, flawless knot, his hair combed back neatly from his face. he looked exactly like the tenured, unyielding professor the university paid him to be.

but as he set his leather briefcase on the podium, his hand froze for a fraction of a second. the silver wedding band on his left ring finger caught the fluorescent light, practically blinding you from where you sat.

heeseung didn't look at the class. he turned directly to the board, picking up a fresh piece of chalk, and began to write with a rigid, mechanical speed.

"today, we are discussing phase transitions," his voice boomed through the lecture hall, carrying that deep, resonant authority. but to your ears, it sounded completely hollow—a recorded tape running on a loop. "specifically, the critical point. the precise temperature and pressure at which the boundaries between liquid and gas cease to exist. the system becomes a single, indistinguishable phase."

the lecture was a brutal exercise in endurance. every time heeseung spoke, the low, gravelly undertone that used to feel like a private wire connected directly to your soul was gone, replaced by a cold, academic distance. he kept his gaze strictly focused on the back rows, his eyes sweeping across the theater but completely leaping over the second row, as if you were nothing more than an empty desk. a statistical outlier. a variable that had been successfully eliminated from the calculation.

the deliberate erasure hurt worse than his anger would have. it made the warmth of your apartment, the taste of the coffee on his tongue, and the soft melody of the piano feel like a collective hallucination.

"at the critical point, the density of both phases becomes identical," heeseung explained, his broad shoulders moving beneath his blazer as he drew a phase diagram on the board. "there is no longer a distinct interface. the system loses its structure. it becomes turbulent."

you didn't let your hand shake. you forced your pen to trace the curves of the graph exactly as he drew them, your jaw clenched so tight the muscle ached. you were going to be the model student jia told you to be. you wouldn't give the lingering whispers in the room the satisfaction of seeing you break.

when the two-hour bell finally rang, the relief in your chest was immense. the classroom immediately filled with the chaotic rush of students packing up, eager to escape the heavy, tense air of the lecture hall.

you didn't linger this time. you didn't slow your movements. you packed your notebook and your pen into your bag within thirty seconds, determined to be the first one out the door, to prove to him that you could return to being a stranger just as easily as he could.

"mr. lee," a voice called out from the front of the room just as you stood up.

it wasn't your name. it was professor harris, the head of the physics department, standing by the stage doors with two members of the university's administrative board. they were holding formal folders, their expressions grim and entirely devoid of academic pleasantry.

you froze in the aisle, your bag slung over your shoulder.

heeseung stopped what he was doing. he set the chalk down, his broad shoulders turning rigid as he looked at the senior faculty members waiting for him. the untouchable, professional mask he had worn for the last two hours didn't fail him, but his jaw clenched so hard a small vein pulsed at his temple.

"we need to discuss the formal audit of your laboratory allocations and private instruction hours, heeseung," professor harris said, his voice carrying clearly across the emptying room. "the committee is waiting in the dean's office."

heeseung didn't argue. he didn't offer an excuse. "of course. let me grab my briefcase."

as he reached down to pick up his bag, his dark eyes finally did what they had resisted doing all morning. they flicked up, cutting through the remaining students in the aisle, and locked directly onto yours.

the distance between the stage and the second row felt like a vast, uncrossable canyon, but for three seconds, the professional armor vanished entirely. his dark pupils were wide, swimming with a raw, suffocating panic and a desperate, unspoken warning. *don't look. don't stop. stay away from the blast radius.*

he was drowning under the weight of the system he had tried so hard to maintain, yet his eyes were still trying to build a shield around you.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag until your knuckles turned white. you didn't offer him a smile, and you didn't let a single tear fall. you simply turned your back on the stage, walking up the concrete steps toward the double doors, leaving him to face the committee alone under the harsh, unyielding glare of the lights.

you stepped out into the hallway, the heavy doors closing behind you with a loud thud. the air in the corridor felt cold, but your face was burning. you could hear the quiet whispers of a few students lingering near the water fountain, their eyes darting to you before quickly looking away. you kept your head down, walking past them as fast as you could until you reached the exit of the science building.

the cold fog hit you the moment you stepped outside. you pulled your coat tighter around yourself and walked toward the small campus library, looking for a place where nobody would recognize you.

you found an empty desk in the very back of the basement level, hidden behind rows of old, dusty textbooks that nobody had touched in years. you pulled out your phone and immediately opened the chat with jia.

*they just took him,* you typed, your fingers trembling over the screen. *the head of the department and two board members were waiting for him right after class. they took him to the dean's office for a formal audit. jia, he looked so scared.*

a few seconds later, jia's response popped up. *are you somewhere safe? did they say anything to you?*

*no,* you texted back. *they only spoke to him. but he looked at me before he left. it was like he was begging me to run away so i wouldn't get caught in the middle of it. i hate this. i hate pretending i don't care.*

*you're doing exactly what you need to do,* jia replied quickly. *he is the professor, y/n. it is his job to handle the board, not yours. keep your head down and stay out of that office. let him protect you.*

you stared at the screen, letting out a long, shaky breath. you knew jia was right, but the logic didn't stop the ache in your chest. you kept picturing the look in heeseung's eyes—that tiny crack in his untouchable mask right before they led him away. he spent his whole life trying to be the perfect son, the perfect husband, and the perfect professor, all to satisfy a family that never actually cared about him. and now, the first time he tried to choose something for himself, his whole world was crashing down.

you tried to study, but the hours passed in a miserable blur. every time you closed your eyes, you saw the silver ring back on his finger.

by four o'clock in the afternoon, the basement library was completely dark outside the small window wells. you couldn't sit still anymore. your legs felt restless, and your brain was fried from trying to read the same page of physics over and over again.

you packed your bag and walked back toward the main campus square. without even realizing it, your feet led you back toward the science building. the lights in the windows were starting to turn on as the evening settled in. you stood across the street, hiding under the shadow of a large oak tree, looking up at the second floor.

the light in heeseung's office was on.

your breath caught in your throat. you looked around the campus square; it was mostly empty because of the thick fog and the cold air. nobody was watching.

ignoring the voice in your head telling you to walk away, you crossed the street and entered the building. the hallways were completely silent now, the evening classes not starting for another hour. you walked up the stairs, your heart hammering a wild, chaotic rhythm against your ribs.

when you reached his door, you saw a small sliver of yellow light leaking out from the bottom. you stood there for a long moment, your hand hovering over the wood. you knew it was dangerous. you knew it could ruin everything. but the need to know if he was okay was stronger than any rule the university had ever written.

you knocked softly, three times.

the door opened almost instantly. heeseung stood in the doorway, and the sight of him made your stomach twist. his tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and his hair was messy, as if he had been running his hands through it for hours. he looked completely drained, the dark circles under his eyes deeper than they had been that morning.

when his eyes found yours, he didn't look angry. he just looked incredibly tired.

"y/n," he breathed out, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sounded completely broken. "i told you to stay away."

"i couldn't," you whispered back, your eyes immediately filling with tears. "i saw them take you. heeseung, please tell me what happened."

heeseung looked down the empty hallway, checking both directions before he grabbed your forearm and pulled you quickly into the room, locking the door behind you with a sharp click. the moment the lock snapped into place, he didn't step back. instead, he leaned his forehead against the heavy wood of the door, letting out a ragged, trembling sigh that seemed to shake his entire body.

"they know about the separation," he said, his voice muffled against the door. "minji's father called the dean this morning. it wasn't a student who filed the report, y/n. it was her family. they found out about the divorce papers, and they're using the university to ruin me.”

the room went completely cold. you stood frozen in the middle of the small office, the words echoing in your ears until your brain could finally process them.

it wasn't a classmate. it wasn't someone passing by the office door at night or a lingering student in the hallway. it was his family. it was the massive, clinical machine of his marriage, reaching out from three hundred miles away to wrap its fingers around his throat.

"minji's father," you whispered, the name tasting like lead on your tongue. "they're doing this on purpose?"

heeseung slowly lifted his head from the door, turning around to face you. he looked completely stripped of his academic authority. he leaned his lower back against the heavy wood, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, his fingers twitching.

"it's a warning," he rough-whispered, a bitter, humorless smile twisting his lips. "in my family, you don't just walk away from an alliance. you don't break a contract without consequences. her father told the dean that i’ve been showing 'unstable behavior' and neglecting my departmental duties. they used the anonymous report about our private hours as the weapon to prove it."

he took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. without the frames, his face looked younger, more vulnerable, and completely exhausted.

"the board is launching a full investigation into my scheduling logs," he continued, his voice dropping into a flat, dead tone. "they're reviewing my grading metrics for the second-row students. they want to see if there's any statistical bias. if they find anything they can label as misconduct, they won't just suspend me, y/n. they will revoke my tenure, blackball me from every research institution in the country, and cancel your scholarship for 'collusion' with faculty."

your breath caught in your throat. a sudden, sharp panic flared in your chest. "my scholarship? but i didn't do anything wrong! i just—i studied. i earned every single mark."

"i know that," heeseung said quickly, stepping forward. for a split second, he looked like he wanted to reach out and grab your hands, but he stopped himself, his bare right hand clenching into a fist. "i told them that. i spent three hours in that room taking total responsibility for the scheduling. i told them the extra hours were entirely my decision to push you toward the advanced doctoral track. i lied to them, y/n. i looked the dean in the eye and told him there was absolutely nothing personal between us."

he looked down, his gaze landing on his left hand. the silver wedding band was still there, a bright, mocking circle under the white lights.

"i put it back on before the meeting," he whispered, his jaw clenching so hard the muscle leaped. "because if i'm a happily married man facing a bitter family dispute, the board views it as a private matter. but if i'm a man mid-divorce who is spending his Tuesday nights locked in an office with an undergraduate... they destroy us both. i had to become the professor again. i had to pretend friday night never happened."

the weight of his words pressed down on your chest until it physically hurt to breathe. you looked at him—at the messy hair, the unbuttoned collar, the sheer desperation rolling off his skin—and the anger you had felt that morning completely melted into a profound, aching sorrow.

he wasn't acting like a coward. he was acting like a shield. he was standing in front of the blast radius, letting the shrapnel hit his own career just to keep your future completely clean.

"heeseung," you murmured, stepping closer until you were standing right in front of him, ignoring the imaginary line between the desk and the door. "you can't keep lying for me. if they find out you lied to the board, it's worse."

"i don't care about the board," he rough-whispered, his dark eyes snapping up to meet yours, burning with a sudden, fierce intensity that made your heart hammer against your ribs. "i care about you. do you understand me? i have lived thirty-two years in a frozen system, y/n. i have lived a life where nothing belonged to me, where every choice was made by someone else. friday night... when i was sitting in your kitchen, eating the food you made, listening to you talk about your dreams... that was the first time i ever felt alive."

he took one final, heavy step, closing the remaining distance between you until his broad chest was almost touching your shoulder. the clean, woodsy scent of his cologne was faint now, replaced by the sharp scent of stress and coffee, but he still felt like home.

"they can take my tenure," he whispered, his voice cracking with an emotion so raw it made your tears finally spill over your lashes. "they can take the lab allocations. they can take my family's name. i don't care. but i will not let them touch your future. i will not let them ruin the one beautiful thing i have ever found."

your hand rose instinctively, your fingers pressing against the soft fabric of his gray blazer, feeling the erratic, terrified rhythm of his heart. "we can't just pretend we're strangers, heeseung. it's killing me. i sat in that lecture today and you didn't even look at my row."

"it killed me too," he murmured, his large hand finally rising, his long fingers hovering just a millimeter away from your wet cheek, desperately wanting to wipe the tear away but forcing himself not to make physical contact. the discipline was tearing him apart from the inside out. "but we have to play their game for a little while longer. until the audit clears. until the divorce papers are legally processed and her father loses his leverage."

"how long?" you breathed, your voice small and trembling.

"a few weeks," heeseung said, his dark pupils searching your face with a quiet, devastating devotion. "just a few weeks of absolute distance. no office hours. no private texts. nothing they can track."

he slowly lowered his hand, his chin tilting up as he looked at the closed door, his expression hardening into something unyielding.

"let them investigate," he whispered, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly register that made your skin prickle. "let them check the equations. they won't find a single error. and once the system settles... i am coming back for you, y/n. and nothing will be able to stop the transfer.”

you stared up at him, your fingers still clutching the fabric of his blazer. the reality of the situation settled into your chest like a heavy stone. a few weeks. it sounded like an eternity to keep your heart under lock and key, to sit in the second row every single morning and look at him like he was just a stranger with a piece of chalk.

but seeing the raw determination in his eyes, you knew you didn't have a choice. you had to be strong, not just for your own scholarship, but for him.

"okay," you whispered, your voice small but steady against the quiet hum of the room. "a few weeks. no texts. no office hours."

heeseung let out a long, ragged breath, his shoulders dropping as if a massive pressure had been relieved. a small, incredibly tender smile touched his lips, though his dark eyes remained filled with a deep, aching sadness.

"thank you, y/n," he rough-whispered.

he slowly reached down, his large, warm hand covering yours where it still rested against his chest. his long fingers squeezed your knuckles with a tight, desperate strength, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. the silver wedding band pressed cold against your skin, but you didn't look at it this time. you only looked at him.

"when this is over," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before rising back to meet your eyes. "i’m going to take you out to a real dinner. no secret locations, no locked doors. i want to walk down the street holding your hand without looking over my shoulder."

"i'd like that," you breathed, a tiny, fragile smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

heeseung’s jaw tightened, his self-control clearly reaching its absolute limit. he reluctantly let go of your hand, stepping back a full pace until the professional distance was restored between you. the space felt cold immediately, but the invisible heat of his promise still flickered in the air.

"you should go now, before the evening classes start filtering into the building," he said softly, his voice returning to that low, careful register. he walked over to his desk, picking up his glasses and sliding them back onto his face, the professional armor clicking perfectly back into place. "the hallway should be clear."

you nodded quickly, wiping the last of the dampness from your cheeks with your sleeve. you adjusted the strap of your bag over your shoulder and walked toward the door. your hand gripped the brass handle, but before you turned it, you paused, looking back over your shoulder one last time.

heeseung was standing behind his podium, his hands resting flat against the polished wood as he stared at you. under the bright overhead lights, he looked every bit the serious, untouchable professor. but the fierce, devoted look in his dark pupils belonged entirely to the man who had danced with you in the rain.

"goodnight, professor lee," you murmured, the words heavy with a secret meaning meant only for him.

"goodnight, y/n," he replied quietly.

you turned the handle, unlocked the door, and stepped out into the quiet, dim corridor. the heavy wood clicked shut behind you, the solid sound echoing down the empty hall. as you walked down the stairs and out into the cool evening fog, the air felt crisp against your skin. the turbulence was here, and the system was completely unstable, but as you pulled your coat tight and walked into the dark, you knew the critical point wouldn't break you. you were just waiting for the equilibrium.

chapter eleven: the separation variable

in the weeks that followed, the university campus became a massive exercise in thermal isolation. in physics, an adiabatic wall is a boundary that allows no heat or matter to pass through it. it is a perfect insulator. for twenty-one days, you and heeseung lived on opposite sides of that invisible, crushing wall, pretending the energy between you hadn't already changed the entire layout of your lives.

from your perspective, the second row of the lecture hall had turned into a testing ground for your emotional endurance.

every morning at eight o'clock, you sat at your exact desk, your notebook open, your pen held tightly between your fingers. you watched him walk into the room. you watched the fluid movement of his broad shoulders under his dark coats, the sharp line of his jaw when he turned to the board, and the way his long fingers held the chalk. but his eyes never dropped down to yours. he kept his gaze locked on the upper tiers, his voice carrying that steady, clinical professor tone that felt like a slap to your face every time he spoke.

the lack of contact was a physical ache. you found yourself staring at his left hand, counting the days, wondering if the silver band was still suffocating him as much as it was suffocating you. every evening, you would sit on your velvet couch, the silence of your apartment so loud it made your head spin. you would stare at your phone, your thumb hovering over his name in your contacts list, desperately wanting to type a single line: *are you okay?*

but you didn't. you kept your promise. instead, you would call jia in milan, letting the sound of her voice and the scratching of her drafting pens ground you while you forced yourself to solve pages of advanced statistical mechanics. you poured all your frustration, all your missing him, into the numbers. you became the top student in the class, your exam scores so flawlessly high that no ethics committee could ever claim you were receiving unfair favoritism. you were surviving, but your heart felt like it was operating in a vacuum.

from heeseung’s perspective, the distance was a completely different kind of torture.

every morning, before he even opened the door to the lecture hall, he had to stand in the hallway and take three deep breaths, forcing his facial muscles into a rigid, untouchable mask. he had to consciously brace himself for the sight of you.

because the second he stepped onto that stage, his body automatically looked for you. even without looking directly at the second row, he knew exactly where you were. he could feel your presence like a localized pocket of heat in a freezing room. out of the corner of his eye, he noticed every tiny detail—the soft knit sweaters you wore to shield yourself from the autumn chill, the way you bit your lower lip when you were concentrating on a difficult graph, and the fierce, brilliant determination in your eyes as you took your notes.

and it was killing him not to step down from the stage and walk to your desk.

when he returned to his office after lectures, the room felt like a tomb. the scent of your vanilla perfume had long faded, replaced by the dry, sterile smell of the official audit folders piled on his desk. minji’s father was still pushing the committee, demanding a full review of his research funding, trying to find any loose thread to pull. heeseung spent his nights sitting under the harsh overhead lights, signing legal documents, reviewing schedule logs, and speaking with his divorce lawyer.

his family called him twice a week, their voices cold and full of warnings about his reputation, but heeseung barely listened to them anymore. their threats had lost all their density. every time he felt like giving up, every time the exhaustion threatened to crush him, he would look at his bare left ring finger—the silver band currently locked away in his desk drawer, only taken out when he had to step into a formal faculty meeting.

he wasn't fighting for his tenure anymore. he was fighting for the right to exist in the same space as you without a lie between you.

on the third Tuesday evening of the isolation, heeseung sat alone at his desk. it was four o'clock—the exact hour your mentoring sessions used to begin. the office was completely silent, save for the rhythmic clicking of the radiator against the wall.

he leaned back in his leather chair, running a hand through his dark hair, disrupting the neat style. his eyes drifted to the edge of the smooth wood desk where you had sat three weeks ago, where your fingers had interlocked with his, where he had promised you that he would come back.

"just a little longer, y/n," he rough-whispered into the empty room, his jaw clenching as he stared at the closed oak door. "just stay in orbit a little longer.”

that friday morning, the first snow of the season began to fall, turning the campus into a quiet, white landscape. inside the lecture hall, the radiator hummed loudly, trying to fight the frost pressing against the glass.

you sat in the second row, pulling the sleeves of your dark green sweater over your knuckles. it was the final lecture before the mid-term break, and the air in the room was restless. students were already talking about packing their bags and catching trains home. but for you, the break didn't feel like a relief—it felt like a wider gulf, a longer stretch of time where you wouldn't even be able to see his face.

when heeseung walked in, a collective quiet settled over the room. he wasn't wearing his usual gray or blue blazer today. he wore a simple, sharp black turtleneck underneath a dark coat, looking striking against the pale light coming from the windows.

he set his briefcase down, and for the first time in three weeks, he didn't immediately turn to the whiteboard.

he stood behind the podium and looked straight out at the rows of students. his eyes moved slowly across the theater, passing the back rows, sliding down the center aisle, until they finally stopped.

directly on you.

your breath caught in your throat. your fingers froze over your notebook.

he didn't look away. for five long, uninterrupted seconds, heeseung maintained absolute eye contact with you in front of the entire class. there was no professional distance in his dark pupils anymore. the cold, mechanical mask he had worn for twenty-one days was completely gone, replaced by a deep, burning intensity that made your heart do a violent, erratic dance against your ribs. his jaw was set, his expression carrying a quiet, triumphant clarity.

he slowly lifted his left hand to fix his glasses.

your eyes immediately dropped to his ring finger.

the silver wedding band was gone. and this time, there was no faculty meeting, no audit folder, and no hesitation. his hand was completely bare, the pale mark on his skin finally fading away, leaving him entirely exposed. entirely free.

"good morning," heeseung said, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that vibrated straight through the floorboards to the soles of your boots. it was rougher than usual, carrying the heavy weight of a man who had finally finished a long, exhausting battle. "today, we are concluding our unit on statistical mechanics. we will be looking at how a system finally stabilizes after a period of intense external pressure."

the two hours passed like a dream. heeseung didn't avoid the second row anymore. every time he made a point, his eyes anchored onto your face, watching the way your lower lip parted in surprise, watching the soft color return to your cheeks. it felt like the air in the room was warming up, the adiabatic wall between you violently cracking open with every word he spoke.

when the final bell rang, signaling the start of the holiday break, the classroom erupted into chaos. students stood up, laughing and talking about their holiday plans, rushing for the exit to catch their rides.

you packed your bag with trembling hands, your heart hammering so loudly you were sure the people next to you could hear it. you took your time, waiting as the sea of students slowly filtered out of the heavy double doors.

heeseung stood behind his podium, packing his papers into his leather briefcase. his movements were calm, deliberate, and entirely unhurried.

finally, the heavy doors clicked shut. the lecture hall fell into an absolute, beautiful silence.

you stood up from the second row, holding the strap of your bag, your legs feeling weak as you looked down at the stage. heeseung snapped his briefcase shut, set it on the desk, and slowly looked up.

"the audit is clear, y/n," he rough-whispered, the formal 'professor' tone vanishing into the empty theater. he stepped out from behind the podium, walking to the very edge of the stage until he was looking down at you, his dark eyes wide and swimming with an overwhelming fondness. "the separation is legally finalized. her family has no more leverage over this department. it's over."

a breathless, choked laugh escaped your lips, the relief hitting you so hard a tear finally slipped over your lashes. "heeseung..."

"i told you i was coming back for you," he murmured, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. he didn't care about the windows, the stage, or the empty desks anymore. he took the steps down from the stage in two swift strides, closing the distance between you until he was standing directly in front of your row.

his large, bare hands rose instantly, his long fingers cupping your face, his thumbs gently wiping away the tear on your cheek. his palms were burning hot against your skin, a perfect, beautiful thermal reaction.

"twenty-one days," he whisper-groaned, leaning his forehead down until it rested firmly against yours, his eyes closing as he took a deep, shaky breath of your vanilla scent. "twenty-one days of sitting in this room and pretending you were just a face in the crowd. it was the hardest calculation i’ve ever had to make."

"you did it," you whispered back, your hands rising to grip his forearms, feeling the solid, unyielding strength of the man who had protected you through the storm. "we did it."

"now," heeseung murmured, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, a genuine, breathtaking smile fully transforming his sharp face. his hands slid down to wrap firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "my car is parked outside. the snow is falling, the keys to my office are locked away for the holidays, and i believe i owe a model student a very long, very public dinner.”

chapter twelve: the permanent state

the restaurant heeseung took you to was a small, warm bistro hidden down a cobblestone side street, away from the bustling campus center. it was the kind of place that felt completely detached from the academic world—no bright fluorescent lights, no heavy oak desks, and no whispering students. instead, there were flickering candles in glass jars, the soft murmur of couples laughing over jazz music, and the gentle patter of the snow melting against the windowpanes.

for the first time since you had met him, heeseung didn't look for a hidden corner booth.

when the host led you to a table right in the center of the room, next to a large window overlooking the snow-covered street, heeseung simply smiled, thanking the man politely. he pulled out your chair for you, his large hand lingering gently on your shoulder for a second, his thumb rubbing through the fabric of your green sweater before he took his own seat across from you.

"you're staring," heeseung murmured, a beautiful, relaxed hum in his voice as he opened his menu. a small, teasing smile played at the corner of his lips.

"i can't help it," you whispered, your cheeks flushing a happy, deep pink under the warm candlelight. "you look different."

he looked up from the menu, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners behind his glasses. "different how?"

"relaxed," you said, your eyes dropping to his left hand resting flat on the white tablecloth. his long fingers were bare, the pale mark on his skin completely gone now, replaced only by the warm, healthy glow of his skin. "you don't look like you're trying to solve a crisis anymore."

heeseung’s expression softened completely, a profound, heavy tenderness filling his eyes. he reached across the small table, his large palm turning upward in an open invitation. you didn't hesitate; you slid your hand into his, your fingers instantly interlocking, squeezing tightly.

"that's because the crisis is over, y/n," he rough-whispered, his thumb tracing the back of your knuckles over and over again. "for the last three years, every time i sat in a restaurant, i felt like i was on display. i had to watch what i said, how i sat, who was looking at me. but sitting here with you... looking at the snow outside... i don't feel any pressure at all. i just feel incredibly lucky."

the dinner was filled with a light, easy joy that you hadn't experienced in months. there was no talk of audits, faculty boards, or bitter family disputes. instead, you laughed over the shared dessert—a rich chocolate torta that heeseung insisted on feeding you a bite of himself, his eyes dark and full of a playful, devoted heat as he watched your lips part for the fork. you talked about the upcoming holidays, the books you wanted to read for fun instead of class, and how jia had practically screamed over the phone when you texted her the news that morning.

"she told me to tell you that if you ever make me sit through another twenty-one days of silence, she’s flying back from Milan to build a brick wall between us himself," you teased, taking a sip of your red wine.

heeseung let out a loud, rich laugh that vibrated deep in his chest—a sound so full of genuine happiness it made your heart swell until it almost ached. "please tell jia i have absolutely no intention of testing her structural skills. one separation variable was more than enough for a lifetime."

by the time you left the restaurant, the snow had stopped, leaving the city quiet, clean, and completely still under the winter night sky. the air was freezing, but as heeseung wrapped his arm securely around your waist, pulling you flush against his side as you walked back toward his car, you didn't feel the cold at all.

when he pulled up to the curb outside your apartment building, he didn't just unlock the doors and wait for you to step out. he turned off the engine, pulled the keys from the ignition, and looked over at you in the dim, shadowy light of the car's interior.

"can i come up?" he whispered, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that always made your pulse spike. "i don't want to say goodnight to you yet."

"you never have to ask," you murmured, your hand reaching over to rest against his cheek.

the moment the door to your apartment clicked shut behind you, the coat you were wearing was gently pulled from your shoulders. heeseung dropped his own jacket onto the floor, his hands immediately finding your waist in the dark, pulling you back against his broad, solid chest. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his warm lips pressing a sequence of slow, heavy kisses along your jawline that made a quiet, breathless gasp escape your throat.

"heeseung," you breathed out, turning around in his embrace until you were facing him, your hands rising to tangle into the soft dark hair at the nape of his neck.

"i missed you so much," he rough-whispered against your lips, his voice thick with weeks of buried emotion. "every single morning. every single lecture. i just wanted to hold you like this."

and then his mouth found yours, deeper and more passionate than ever before, but entirely devoid of the old panic. it was a kiss full of pure, unadulterated joy—a celebration of a battle won, a system stabilized, and a future that belonged completely to the two of you. his long fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back slightly as he drank you in, his heart thudding a wild, triumphant rhythm against your chest.

when he finally pulled back, just an inch, his dark eyes were shining with a terrifyingly beautiful devotion in the dim light of your living room. he gently reached out, his bare ring finger tracing the soft line of your lower lip.

"no more hiding, y/n," he murmured, his voice full of a profound, permanent peace. "from now on, this is our equilibrium.”

you rest your hands flat against his chest, feeling the steady, rhythmic thud of his heart through his black turtleneck. the relief in the room is so thick it feels like a physical blanket, keeping the winter chill completely outside the glass.

"no more hiding," you repeat softly, a brilliant smile finally breaking across your face.

heeseung lets out a soft, contented sigh, his large hands sliding down from your waist to take your hands. he leads you over to the velvet couch, pulling you down right next to him. the moment you sit, he shifts, lifting his arm to invite you in. you slide instantly into his side, tucking your knees up onto the cushions and resting your head against his broad shoulder.

his arm wraps securely around you, his long fingers gently stroking your upper arm in a slow, soothing pattern. for a long time, neither of you says anything. you just sit in the quiet, golden light of your small living room, watching the faint reflection of the streetlamps on the snow-covered windowsill.

"i kept the box," heeseung says suddenly, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

you tilt your head up to look at his sharp profile. "the box?"

"the tin box you brought the cookies in," he clarifies, turning his head to look down at you, his dark eyes soft and incredibly tender behind his glasses. "the first day you came to my office hours. when the board was auditing my office logs and going through my desk drawers last week, they asked what was inside it. professor harris thought it might contain off-syllabus research materials."

you let out a soft, breathless laugh. "what did you tell them?"

"i told them it contained vital fuel for my thermodynamic research," heeseung teases, a quiet, playful spark in his eyes. "they looked very confused, but they left it alone. it's still sitting on the top shelf of my bookcase. i look at it every time i start to lose my patience with a departmental memo."

you lean up, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to his jawline, making him close his eyes for a brief second as his grip on your waist tightly cinches. "you're a terrible liar, mr. lee."

"only when it comes to you," he murmurs, turning his head to catch your lips in another slow, warm kiss. it's completely different from the desperate, frantic kisses of the past—this one tastes like quiet mornings, shared coffee, and a future that is entirely open.

when he pulls back, he gently slides his glasses off his face, setting them onto the small coffee table beside the couch. without the frames, his dark eyes look incredibly deep, holding a vulnerability that he only ever shows within these four walls. he leans down, burying his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar, sweet scent of your vanilla perfume.

"tomorrow," heeseung whispers against your skin, his voice thick with a sleepy, profound happiness, "we don't have to go to campus. we don't have to check the logs. i can make us breakfast. i'm not as good at baking as you are, but i can manage an omelet if the variables are right."

"i'd love that," you whisper back, your fingers lightly tracing the soft fabric of his shirt, feeling completely safe, completely cherished, and entirely at peace.

as the minutes tick by, the heavy exhaustion of the last three weeks finally catches up to both of you. the constant baseline of stress, the sleepless nights, and the sheer emotional weight of the day begin to take their toll. heeseung’s long fingers slow their movement against your arm, his breathing deepening into a slow, heavy rhythm. he shifts slightly, sliding lower onto the cushions and pulling you right along with him until his back is propped up against the padded armrest of the couch.

"stay right here," he rough-whispers, his eyes already half-closed as he tucks your head securely under his chin. his large arm stays firmly looped around your waist, locking you against his side.

"i'm not going anywhere," you murmur, adjusting the soft knit of your sweater against his chest.

you reach over to grab a thick plush blanket resting on the back of the sofa, pulling it up over both of your shoulders. heeseung lets out a low, deeply contented rumble at the added warmth, his long legs stretching out along the length of the cushions, tangling naturally with yours. the velvet couch is small, forcing the two of you into a completely seamless, breathless fit.

with his heart beating a steady, soothing lullaby against your cheek and his warm breath fanning across your hair, your own eyelids begin to feel impossibly heavy. the system had been turbulent, the forces had been violent, but as you finally close your eyes and let his massive warmth envelope you in the quiet dark, you fall into the deepest, safest sleep you've had in months, completely anchored to each other on the small sofa.

the morning sun breaks through the frost on the windowpane, casting long, pale lines of light across the hardwood floor of your apartment. for the first time in months, there is no jarring sound of an alarm clock at six o'clock, no sudden bolt of panic about getting to the lecture hall before the front rows fill up.

you slowly blink your eyes open, your cheek still pressed against his solid chest.

heeseung is still sound asleep beside you, his long frame perfectly filling the space of the couch. his profile looks completely soft in the daylight, the usual serious line of his forehead totally relaxed. his large, bare hand is still draped securely over your hip, his long fingers subconsciously twitching to pull you even closer the moment you stir. the pale morning light catches the dark strands of his hair falling messily over his eyes, making him look younger, gentler, and entirely yours.

you lie perfectly still for a few minutes, just listening to the steady, deep rhythm of his breathing, watching the faint dust motes dance in the golden sunlight. it feels like a miracle. after weeks of staring at him from thirty feet away, being able to count the dark lashes on his eyelids feels like a luxury you never want to give up.

as you shift slightly to look up at him, heeseung stirs. a low, gravelly hum vibrates in his chest as his eyelids flutter open. his dark eyes are blurry with sleep, but the exact second they focus on your face, a beautiful, lazy smile spreads across his lips.

"good morning," he rough-whispers, his voice thick and deep from sleep. he slides his hand up from your hip to cup the back of your neck, his thumb gently brushing over your skin.

"good morning," you murmur, leaning into his touch. "how did you sleep?"

"perfectly," he sighs, pulling you up until your chin is resting on his chest. he presses a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head, his chest expanding with a long, contented breath. "i can't remember the last time i didn't wake up with a headache about a faculty meeting. the variables of this couch are highly underrated."

you chuckle softly, resting your forearm against his collarbone. "i believe someone promised me an omelet last night. or was that just a theory?"

heeseung’s eyes spark with a playful, amused light. "a theory? y/n, i am a man of science. i do not make hypotheses i cannot prove."

he reluctantly shifts, letting you go as he sits up and stretches his broad shoulders. he slides his glasses back onto his face, the sharp, intelligent look returning to his eyes, though the warmth remains entirely intact. he stands up, wearing only his dark jeans and the black turtleneck from the night before, his feet bare as he walks into your small kitchen corner.

you pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping the soft blanket around your shoulders as you watch him move. he opens your refrigerator, inspecting the eggs and vegetables with the same intense, calculated focus he usually reserves for a quantum mechanics graph.

"the thermal distribution of your stove is slightly uneven," heeseung comments, a teasing lilt in his voice as he cracks an egg into a bowl. "but i will adjust the pan coordinates to ensure a flawless structural integrity."

"just don't burn the butter, professor," you laugh, the old title slipping out like an inside joke now.

heeseung stops, turning his head to look at you over his shoulder. the bright morning sun catches the absolute devotion written in his eyes. he sets the fork down, walking back over to the couch in three long strides. he leans down, his large hands resting on the back of the sofa on either side of your head, trapping you in his warm, familiar scent.

"that title doesn't work in this room anymore, y/n," he rough-whispers, his mouth hovering just an inch from yours, his dark eyes burning with a deep, happy heat. "in this apartment, i'm just a man who is incredibly in love with you."

and before you can answer, he closes the distance, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, unhurried kiss that tastes like coffee, fresh snow, and the beautiful, permanent beginning of the rest of your lives.

the kiss slows down, deepening into something thick, warm, and sweet, until heeseung finally pulls back with a soft, breathless chuckle. his forehead rests against yours for a second, his thumbs lightly stroking your jawline before he lets out a quiet sigh of pure contentment.

"if i stay right here," he murmurs, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners as he glances toward the counter, "the eggs are going to experience a tragic phase change. stay put."

he gives your lips one last, gentle peck before turning back to the stove. you pull the plush blanket tighter around your shoulders, your heart feeling completely full as you watch him. heeseung moves around your small kitchen with an easy confidence, his tall frame blocking the morning light as he skillfully folds the omelet in the pan. it’s a beautifully ordinary sight—the brilliant, tenured physics professor, bare-footed on your linoleum floor, completely dedicated to making you breakfast.

within a few minutes, he walks back over to the small wooden table, setting down two plates of perfectly golden omelets alongside two mugs of hot coffee.

"proportions are flawless, y/n," he says proudly, pulling out his chair and looking over at you with a bright, inviting smile. "come eat."

you drop the blanket onto the couch and walk over, sliding into the seat across from him. the space under the table is just as tight as it was during your rainy dinner weeks ago, and the moment your knees bump against his under the wood, heeseung doesn't move away. instead, he hooks his foot gently around your ankle, anchoring you to him.

the conversation flows without effort, filled with quiet laughter, small pieces of egg shared from across the table, and the comforting warmth of the coffee. you talk about what to pack for the mid-term break, the record store he wants to visit down the street, and how strange—yet incredibly freeing—it will be to walk back onto campus in a week without a single secret to keep.

when the breakfast is finished, heeseung reaches across the table, his long fingers gently catching your chin. his thumb brushes a stray crumb from the corner of your mouth, his gaze dropping to your lips with that familiar, heavy devotion.

"no more turbulence, y/n," he rough-whispers, his voice full of an absolute, unbreakable certainty. "we survived the critical point."

you smile, leaning into his touch, your hand rising to cover his bare knuckles. "we did."

he stands up, pulling you with him until you are pressed firmly against his chest in the bright, sunlit kitchen. the snow outside continues to fall silently against the glass, but inside, the temperature is absolutely perfect. the old, rigid system has completely dissolved, and as heeseung holds you tight, his chin resting on your head as you look out at the white landscape together, you know that the new equilibrium you’ve found is entirely permanent.

chapter thirteen: the final equation

six months later, the spring breeze was warm as it blew through the open windows of the lecture hall. the harsh, freezing rain of the winter was completely gone, replaced by the bright afternoon sun that lit up the entire room.

the university was still the same. the wooden desks were still scratched, the whiteboards were still covered in complex formulas, and students were still rushing down the aisles to find their seats. but for you, everything had changed.

you sat in the middle of the second row, your notebook open to a fresh page. you weren't hiding your face behind your hair anymore. you weren't gripping your pen until your knuckles turned white with anxiety. you just sat comfortably, a soft smile on your face as you chatted with a classmate sitting next to you.

at exactly two o'clock, the side door opened.

heeseung stepped into the room. he looked as sharp and handsome as ever, wearing a light gray blazer over a white button-down shirt, his dark hair falling softly over his forehead. he set his leather briefcase on the podium, and as he adjusted his glasses, the sunlight caught his left hand.

it was completely bare.

he didn't look at the back rows today. the very first thing he did was look down at the second row, his dark pupils immediately locking onto yours. a genuine, beautiful warmth flooded his eyes, and he gave you a tiny, private nod before turning to the board.

"today is our final lecture of the semester," heeseung’s deep, gravelly voice echoed through the hall, but it didn't sound cold anymore. it sounded alive. "we are going to conclude with the law of conservation of energy. it states that energy cannot be created or destroyed. it can only be transformed from one form to another."

as he spoke, you looked down at your notebook, your fingers smoothly tracing his words. you felt a familiar vibration in your pocket. you pulled out your phone under the desk, keeping it hidden from the rest of the class.

it was a text from jia.

*i just landed at the airport!* the text read, filled with little airplane emojis. *i’m taking a cab straight to your apartment. the architecture internship in milan is officially over, and i expect a full dinner with the famous professor tonight. he better be ready to cook.*

you let out a quiet, happy laugh, your thumb quickly typing back: *he already bought the ingredients. we're waiting for you.*

you slid the phone back into your bag and looked up at the front of the room. heeseung was drawing a final, simple graph on the board. as he explained the transfer of force, his eyes drifted back to you, watching the way the sunlight hit your face. there were no board members waiting in the hallway. there were no anonymous reports or bitter threats hanging over your heads. the system was completely clear.

when the final bell of the semester rang, the room erupted into loud cheers and the chaotic sound of packing bags. students stood up, waving goodbye to each other and rushing out the doors to start their summer vacation.

you took your time, packing your notebook and pen into your bag. you stood up from the second row and walked down the concrete steps, waiting until the very last student left the room.

the heavy double doors clicked shut, leaving the lecture hall in a peaceful, quiet stillness.

heeseung snapped his briefcase shut and stepped out from behind the podium. he didn't wait. he walked straight up to you, his large hands reaching out to grab your waist and pull you flush against his chest. the familiar, clean scent of his woodsy cologne and warm skin enveloped you instantly.

"congratulations on finishing the semester, y/n," he rough-whispered, his eyes full of a deep, endless fondness as he looked down at your face.

"thank you, professor," you teased, reaching up to gently slide his glasses off his face and setting them on the podium behind him.

heeseung let out a soft, rich laugh, his broad shoulders shaking against your chest. he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his thumbs tracing the soft line of your hips.

"jia texted," you murmured, a bright smile on your lips. "she's on her way to the apartment right now."

"good," heeseung whispered, his voice dropping into that low, heavy register that always made your heart skip a beat. "the variables for dinner are already set. but before we go..."

he didn't finish the sentence. he closed the final inch between you, his lips finding yours in a slow, deep, and incredibly sweet kiss. it was a kiss that held no more fear, no more parameters, and no more hidden spaces. it was just the two of you, completely open to the world, standing in the bright afternoon light.

the old symmetry was gone, the chaos had settled, and as heeseung held you tight against his heart, you knew that the final equation was complete. you had found your permanent equilibrium, and nothing would ever change the system again.

you pull back from the kiss just an inch, your fingers sliding down his arms to link with his large, warm hands. the silence of the empty lecture hall feels gentle now, a far cry from the suffocating quiet it held months ago.

"are you nervous?" you ask softly, tilting your head up to look at him. "about meeting jia? she can be pretty intense when she's protecting the people she cares about."

heeseung lets out a soft chuckle, his long fingers squeezing yours tightly as he guides you toward the side exit, picking up his briefcase with his free hand.

"i have defended my research in front of the strictest academic boards in the country, y/n," he murmurs, a playful, relaxed smirk touching his lips as you both step out into the sunlit hallway. "but yes, i am slightly terrified of your best friend. i've made sure to buy the exact brand of coffee she likes just in case I need to negotiate."

you laugh, the sound echoing lightly against the lockers. it feels incredible to walk by his side down the main corridor, your hands joined openly, without a single person staring or whispering. the campus is empty and peaceful, the summer breeze carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers through the open glass doors of the building.

by the time you drive back to your apartment, the afternoon sun is starting to sink, casting a warm, orange glow over the brick streets. the moment heeseung unlocks your front door, a loud, familiar voice rings out from the kitchen.

"it's about time!" jia yells, popping her head around the corner. she's wearing a comfortable oversized sweater, her hair tied up in a messy bun, holding a wooden spoon in one hand.

she stops dead in her tracks when her eyes land on heeseung. she looks him up and down, her sharp eyes taking in his tall frame, his casual gray blazer, and the completely bare fingers of his left hand. heeseung stands perfectly still, offering her a polite, slightly nervous smile.

"you must be jia," heeseung says, his voice deep and respectful. "it’s a pleasure to finally meet you."

jia stares for two more seconds before a huge, triumphant grin breaks across her face. she drops the spoon onto the counter and walks over, completely bypassing you to pat heeseung firmly on the shoulder.

"alright, lee," jia says, her voice full of approval. "you passed the first test. you didn't run away when i pointed a spoon at you. now come inside, the pasta water is boiling and you're in charge of the sauce."

heeseung lets out a relieved breath, his shoulders dropping as he looks over at you with a bright, happy smile. he cuts a glance back to jia and nods. "understood. i'll make sure the temperature is precise."

"oh god, he really is a physicist," jia laughs, turning back toward the kitchen.

the rest of the evening passes in a beautiful blur of warmth, loud laughter, and incredible food. you sit at the small wooden table, watching heeseung and jia debate architectural design versus structural physics, their voices filling the apartment with a lively energy that you haven't felt in a long time. heeseung sits close to you, his thigh pressed warmly against yours under the table, his hand occasionally reaching over to rest on your knee.

later, after dinner is finished and jia leaves to check into her hotel down the street, the apartment falls back into a quiet, peaceful stillness. the moon is bright outside, shining down on the calm streets below.

you stand by the large window, looking out at the city light. heeseung walks up behind you, his broad chest pressing against your back as his long arms wrap securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him. he buries his face in your neck, inhaling the sweet vanilla scent of your hair.

"she likes you," you whisper, leaning back into his solid warmth.

"i'm glad," heeseung rough-whispers, his lips brushing against your skin. "because i don't ever plan on letting you go, y/n. this is where i belong."

you turn around in his arms, looping your hands around his neck as you look up into his dark, devoted eyes. the journey had been full of heavy friction and painful boundaries, but as his mouth gently finds yours in the quiet dark of your living room, you know the calculation is finally done. you are safe, you are loved, and the equilibrium is completely yours to keep.

heeseung pulls back from the kiss, his eyes searching your face with a quiet, happy look that makes your chest feel warm. he lifts one of his large hands, his thumb softly tracing the curve of your cheek, before he slides his fingers into your hair, holding you close.

"let's sit down," he rough-whispers, his voice deep and relaxed in the quiet room.

he takes your hand and leads you over to the velvet couch. it is the same couch where you both slept weeks ago when everything felt like it was breaking apart. but tonight, there is no stress, no cold rain, and no fear. you sit down together, and you instantly lean into his side, tucking your legs up and resting your head right on his shoulder.

heeseung loops his long arm around you, pulling you securely against his broad chest. he reaches for the soft plush blanket on the back of the sofa and drapes it over your laps, tucking the edges around your feet. the apartment is quiet, save for the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of a car passing by on the street below.

"i was thinking about the summer," heeseung says after a long moment, his voice a low rumble against your ear. his fingers gently stroke your arm in a slow, steady pattern.

"what about it?" you ask, looking up at his sharp profile in the moonlight.

"i want to take you to the coast," he murmurs, turning his head to look down at you. his dark eyes are incredibly soft. "i want to see the town where you grew up. i want to walk on the beach with you, away from the university, away from everything. just you and me."

a small, breathless smile breaks across your face. the thought of walking through your hometown with heeseung—not as a secret, but as the man who loves you—makes a knot of old tension completely dissolve in your heart.

"i would love that," you whisper, leaning up to press a sweet, lingering kiss to his jawline.

heeseung lets out a low, contented sound, his arm tightening around your waist to pull you even closer, until there is absolutely no space between you. he rests his chin on the top of your head, his breathing slowing down as the peaceful energy of the night takes over.

you close your eyes, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart under his shirt. the journey had been full of heavy friction, cold distance, and rules that tried to tear you apart. but you had survived the turbulence. you had stood by each other through the storm, and now, the air was completely still.

epilogue: the coast

heeseung’s fingers stay laced with yours the entire drive down the coast, his thumb brushing slow circles over your knuckles like he’s memorizing the shape of your hand. the windows are rolled down, letting the warm summer air and the sharp scent of salt water fill the car. there is no talk of physics, no academic schedules, and no heavy expectations. it is just the hum of the engine and the quiet rhythm of his breathing next to you.

when the car finally stops at the quiet stretch of beach just outside your old town, the world feels completely still. heeseung turns off the ignition, looks over at you, and leans over to kiss you once, soft and unhurried, before he walks around to open your door.

the sun is low in the sky, painting everything in a deep, beautiful gold. you take off your shoes and walk barefoot along the shoreline, the cool water lapping at your ankles while he keeps you tucked securely against his broad side. his arm is wrapped tight around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. every few steps he stops to press his lips to your temple, to your hair, to the corner of your mouth, whispering how beautiful you look with the wind in your hair and the salt on your skin.

there are no secret glances or worries about who might see you here. the vast ocean stretches out in front of you, a perfect, open space where you finally belong entirely to each other.

eventually the path curves behind a tall line of dunes and you’re completely hidden from the road. the only sound is the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the sand. heeseung guides you down onto the large blanket he spread out earlier, pulling you right into his lap so your back rests against his solid chest.

his large hands slide under the hem of your sundress, his palms burning hot against your skin as they travel up your thighs. a quiet, breathless gasp escapes your lips as you lean your head back against his shoulder, looking up at his dark, devoted eyes.

"twenty-one days of distance," heeseung rough-whispers against your ear, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates straight through you. "and months of hiding in the dark. i spent every single day dreaming of holding you in the light like this."

"we're finally here," you murmur, turning your head to press a sweet, lingering kiss to his jawline.

"yes," heeseung whispers, his long fingers tightening against your skin, anchoring you to him completely. "we're exactly where we're supposed to be."

he leans down and catches your lips in a slow, deep kiss that tastes like salt, summer warmth, and permanent peace. he keeps you in his lap a little longer, the blanket soft beneath you both and the sound of the waves filling the quiet space behind the dunes. his hands move slowly, tracing the hem of your sundress before he lifts it inch by inch, letting the fabric bunch at your waist. he touches the newly exposed skin of your stomach, then lower, his fingers stroking the inside of your thighs in long, patient lines.

"been thinking about touching you like this all day," he murmurs against your ear. "my good girl, letting me have you out here where anyone could walk by."

he shifts you gently onto your back, settling between your legs but not rushing. instead he starts at your knees, kissing upward one leg at a time. his breath is warm, his mouth unhurried, and every touch makes your pulse skip.

heeseung looks up at you once, his eyes dark and soft. he presses the pads of his fingers to your clothed clit, rubbing in slow, steady circles, building the heat gradually until your hips start to rock toward his hand. when he reaches the edge of your panties he doesn’t pull them off right away. he mouths over the thin fabric, letting you feel the heat of his tongue through the cotton. his fingers hook into the waistband, dragging them down so slowly you feel every brush of fabric against your skin.

once they’re gone he spreads your thighs wider, settling in close so his shoulders keep you open. the first slow drag of his tongue makes your hips twitch. he hums in approval and keeps going, licking broad and steady, savoring every taste. one hand stays on your thigh, holding you open, while the other slips two fingers inside you, curling gently as his tongue focuses on your clit.

you bite your lip to stay quiet, but little sounds still escape. heeseung glances up again, his lips shiny in the fading light. "that’s it. let me hear how good it feels."

he sucks softly, then presses his tongue flat and drags it again, his fingers moving in the same perfect rhythm. your thighs start to shake around his head. he doesn’t rush. he takes his time, worshiping every inch of you with his mouth until your breathing turns ragged and your fingers twist in his dark hair.

when you come the first time it’s with a broken moan, your pussy clenching tightly around his fingers while he keeps licking you through the waves of it. he only pulls back when your hips stop twitching, pressing one last, wet kiss to your inner thigh before he crawls up your body.

heeseung kisses you deeply so you can taste yourself on his tongue, then sits back on his heels to strip off his shirt and push his shorts down. his cock is already hard, flushed at the tip. he lines himself up and sinks into you slowly, watching your face the whole time.

"fuck, you feel perfect," he breathes, his voice rougher than usual. "so warm and wet for me."

he rolls his hips in deep, unhurried strokes, one hand sliding under your dress to cup your breast. his thumb circles your nipple, teasing it into a stiff peak before he leans down to suck it through the fabric. you arch into his mouth with a whimper. heeseung groans around your nipple, sucking harder, then switches to the other one while his cock keeps thrusting steadily.

he pulls the neckline of your dress down so he can see both breasts, using his fingers to pinch and roll your nipples while he fucks you. every time you clench around him he praises you in that low, reverent voice. "good girl. taking me so well. my pretty girl, letting me have all of you."

the angle changes when he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, and suddenly every thrust hits deeper, striking the very core of you. your moans grow louder against the sound of the ocean. heeseung watches your face, his eyes soft even as his pace picks up. "come for me again. want to feel you squeeze my cock while i fill you up."

your second orgasm hits harder, a sudden violent rush of heat. your pussy flutters and gushes around him, wetness soaking the blanket beneath you. heeseung groans at the sight and the feel of it, his hips stuttering as the tight friction completely breaks his control. he buries himself to the hilt and comes with a low, broken sound, pulsing deep inside you until you’re both trembling in the sand.

he stays there for a long moment, his forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in. when he finally pulls out, he watches his cum slowly drip from your swollen pussy with something close to awe. then he gathers you tightly into his arms, pulling the edges of the blanket around both of you.

heeseung kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, murmuring how proud he is of you, how beautiful you looked coming for him, how much he loves taking care of you. his hands stroke your back in long, soothing lines while he tells you how perfect you are, how safe you are with him. the ocean keeps rolling in behind you, and he holds you close until your breathing evens out and the afterglow settles warm and heavy between you both.

you rest your head under his chin, listening to the deep, slow beat of his heart. the warm breeze from the sea blows over the blanket, but tucked against his chest, you only feel his heat.

heeseung wraps his long arms even tighter around you, pulling the edge of the blanket over your shoulders as the sky shifts from gold to a deep, quiet purple. he presses one last, lingering kiss to the top of your head, letting out a long, happy breath that catches in the quiet air.

previous I masterlist

okay that concludes it all. thank you everyone for reading and commenting (that always made my day). ❤️ lmk if you'd like another, maybe shorter heeseung smau and feel free to message me about being on my permanent taglist for future work! as i plan on uploading jungwon fic and mayb one with riki soon

you lean back against the soft, pastel-blue cushion of the armchair by the window, the late-afternoon light spilling across the tiny dorm room like honey. the air smells faintly of instant noodles and the lingering scent of minju’s favorite lavender body spray—sweet, a little powdery, and somehow comforting. the laptop perched on the desk is open to weverse, the live–stream window glowing a pulsing teal, ready to broadcast your voices to the world.

you glance at the camera. “alright, everyone, we’re live!” you say, your voice a little higher than usual, the nervous excitement tickling your throat. the little notification chime confirms that the stream has started. a flood of emojis erupts across the screen—hearts, stars, a cascade of “ㅊㅇㄱ” (cheering) signs.

“hey, gllits!” minju’s voice follows, bright and bubbly, but the moment her eyes meet yours across the small room, the world seems to tilt. the two of you have been friends since the first training session, but there’s always been that unspoken line, a thin thread that pulls tighter every time you’re alone together.

the fans’ comments start pouring in, a steady stream of love and curiosity. in the lower left corner of the screen you can see their names flash by, each one a tiny beacon of attention.

[minjucakes]: “minju–ssi, you’re glowing!”

[yunju4ever]: “omg, the two of you are so cute! can we get a duo pose?”

[ynmylove]: “i missed the ynju lives 😭”

you smile, cheeks flushing a shade deeper than the pink pillow cover. “we’re just hanging out because everyone’s home,” you explain, glancing toward the small stack of textbooks on the desk—your evidence that you’re still a student first, idol second. “yunah, moka, wonhee, and iroha are all at their families’ houses or doing their own thing. so we thought we’d keep the dorm lively!”

minju chuckles, a sound that makes the tiny room feel warmer. “yeah, we’re basically the last two night–owls left. it’s like a little mini vacation for us, even if we’re stuck in our own tiny dorm.”

minju stretches her arms above her head, sleeves slipping past her wrists as she lets out a dramatic sigh. “this week was actually insane,” she says, turning to you with wide eyes. “why were we together like… every single day?”

you blink, then burst out laughing. “wait, you’re right. that’s kind of embarrassing.”

“kind of?” she nudges your knee with hers under the tiny dorm table. “monday we had dance practice.”

“okay but that doesn’t count, that’s work.”

“fine,” she grins. “tuesday we finished practice early and you said you were ‘too tired’ to go to the convenience store alone.”

you point at her defensively. “it was dark!”

“it was 7 p.m.,” she deadpans. “and then we bought ramen and ate it on the floor while watching that drama.”

the live chat explodes again:

[gl1tteryun]: “they’re exposing themselves LMAO”

[minyulvr99]: “so… y’all went on a ramen date???”

[starlitmin]: “why does this sound like a married couple recap 😭”

you try to ignore the comments, but your ears are definitely burning. “wednesday we studied together,” you add quickly, trying to sound responsible.

minju snorts. “studied? you mean we highlighted one page and then talked for three hours about whether we’d survive in a zombie apocalypse?”

“that was important discussion!” you protest. “you said you’d save me.”

“of course i would,” she replies automatically—so fast that both of you freeze for half a second.

the silence feels louder than the fan humming in the corner.

[minjuangel]: “SHE SAID OF COURSE????”

[ynjucrumbs]: “HELLOOOO THAT WAS SO FAST”

[ynnotcuteanymore]: “they didn’t even hesitate…”

you clear your throat. “thursday was your idea,” you say, trying to regain control. “you came into my room at like midnight.”

“because you weren’t answering your phone!” she argues, eyes wide in fake offense. “and then we ended up reorganizing your closet.”

“you folded my hoodies,” you murmur, softer now.

“they were messy,” she shrugs, but her smile is small and shy. “and then we made that playlist together.”

“oh my god,” you laugh, covering your face. “the playlist.”

“don’t expose it!” she gasps.

too late.

[minjusgf]: “DROP THE PLAYLIST NAME”

[mochaminju]: “bet it’s called ‘totally not in love’”

[ynjuarchive]: “IS IT A LOVE SONG PLAYLIST”

minju leans closer to the camera, squinting. “you guys are so dramatic. it’s just songs we like.”

you mumble, “it’s literally three hours long and mostly duets.”

she elbows you again, but she’s smiling so hard her cheeks look round and soft.

“and today,” she continues, turning back to you instead of the camera, like she almost forgot it’s there, “we woke up at the same time.”

“because you stole my blanket,” you accuse.

“i did not!”

“you did. i went to grab it and it was on your side.”

she laughs, bright and loud. “okay but why did you end up in my bed in the first place?”

the room goes very quiet again. you stare at her. she stares at you.

you clear your throat again, voice suspiciously soft. “it was cold.”

“mhm,” she hums, eyes teasing. “and you just happened to stay there until morning.”

“you didn’t tell me to leave.”

she pauses, tilting her head. “did you want me to?”

your breath catches for a second, and for once you don’t look at the comments, or the camera, or anything except her. “no,” you admit quietly.

minju’s expression softens in a way that makes your heart feel too big for your chest. “good,” she says, almost whispering.

the chat is still scrolling at lightning speed, but the two of you barely glance at it now.

“so basically,” she says after a moment, bumping her shoulder against yours, “we’ve practiced together, eaten together, studied together, made playlists together, reorganized closets together, and slept in the same bed.”

you groan, hiding your face in your hands. “when you list it like that, it sounds bad.”

she grins mischievously. “sounds like we’re fake girlfriends.”

you peek at her through your fingers. “fake?”

she just smiles at you—soft, knowing, and a little too fond for it to feel like a joke.

and the dorm, tiny as it is, suddenly feels like it’s holding something much bigger than both of you.

for a moment, neither of you says anything.

the tiny dorm room feels strangely quiet despite the constant ding ding ding of new comments flooding the live chat. the laptop fan hums softly on the desk, and the warm lamp light by the bed casts a golden glow over the two of you.

minju is still sitting close—closer than either of you noticed before.

your shoulders are almost touching.

she’s looking at you. not at the camera. not at the comments. just you.

her smile from earlier fades into something softer, slower, like she’s thinking about something she hasn’t decided whether to say out loud yet.

“what?” you ask quietly.

“nothing,” she murmurs, but she doesn’t look away.

the silence stretches. fans immediately notice.

[gl1tmoon]: “why did it get quiet all of a sudden…”

[minjupeach]: “HELLO THEY’RE JUST STARING”

[ynjucrumbs]: “i feel like we’re interrupting something 😭”

minju’s eyes flicker down for half a second—to your lips—before she quickly looks back up.

your heart does something very unhelpful in your chest. “you’re staring,” you mumble.

“so are you.”

“i’m not.”

“you literally are,” she whispers, a tiny laugh slipping out, but it sounds nervous this time.

another pause. neither of you moves away. the tension in the air is so obvious it almost feels visible.

minju shifts a little closer on the chair without even realizing it. “sorry,” she says automatically.

“you didn’t do anything.”

“i know but—” she stops talking mid–sentence because now you’re the one glancing down at her lips. when you look back up, her eyes widen just slightly.

the room feels too warm. too quiet.

minju’s voice comes out softer than before. “why are you looking at me like that?”

you blink, caught. “like what?”

she doesn’t answer right away, instead, she leans in just a little—barely a few centimeters—but enough that you can feel the warmth of her breath.

minju whispers, almost teasing but not quite steady, “you look like you wanna kiss me.”

your face turns bright red instantly. “i—” but you stop, because the truth is written all over your expression anyway.

her cheeks slowly turn pink too. for a second it looks like she might laugh it off. instead she quietly says, “… do you?”

the question hangs in the air between you. dangerous. soft. honest.

your eyes meet again. neither of you pulls away, if anything, the distance between you shrinks just a little more.

minju lets out a tiny breath that brushes your lips. her voice drops to a whisper. “… because you’re looking at me like i’m about to.”

and for a moment—it really, really looks like one of you might. for a second it really looks like the distance between you is going to disappear.

minju is so close now that you can see the tiny details of her face—the faint shimmer of lip balm on her lips, the soft blush creeping across her cheeks, the way her lashes cast little shadows under the dorm light.

you barely breathe. she tilts her head slightly, the movement is slow, deliberate.

your heart is beating so loudly you’re convinced the microphone might pick it up.

minju leans in, closer, closer. her nose almost brushes yours.

you instinctively lean forward too, like gravity is pulling you in. your eyes start to close, and then—minju suddenly stops, one centimeter away.

your brain freezes. you open your eyes again just in time to see the mischievous little smile spreading across her lips.

“… wow,” she murmurs softly.

you blink. “what?”

she stays close—very close—still within that dangerous almost-distance. “you actually leaned in.”

the realization hits you like a truck, your face turns bright red instantly. “i did not!”

minju giggles quietly, clearly trying not to laugh too loud. “you did,” she whispers. “i was just testing.”

you stare at her in complete disbelief. “testing what?!”

she finally leans back, stretching comfortably against the chair like nothing just happened. “if you would.”

you cover your face with both hands, groaning in embarrassment. “i can’t believe you just did that to me on live.”

minju is still giggling, shoulders shaking. “i didn’t think you’d actually fall for it!”

“you were literally two centimeters from my face!”

“one centimeter,” she corrects proudly.

you peek at her through your fingers, still mortified. she notices, her teasing expression softens a little. “… you really would’ve kissed me?” she asks quietly.

you freeze again. you look anywhere except her face. “… you were the one who leaned in first.”

minju hums thoughtfully. “true.” another tiny pause, then she nudges your shoulder with hers. “but you didn’t pull away.”

you groan again, sinking deeper into the armchair. “this is the worst day of my life.”

minju laughs, bright and warm, but she’s looking at you with that same soft expression again, the one that makes your chest feel weird.

“relax,” she says gently. then she leans close again for a second—not as close as before, but enough to whisper teasingly near your ear, “next time i might not stop.”

minju just smiles sweetly at the camera like nothing happened. “anyway!” she chirps brightly. “what were we talking about before?”

although, well, who could imagine that behind the scenes the roles are usually invented a little?

without wasting any time, minju pushed you gently but firmly onto her bed, crawling on top of you with a hungry gleam in her dark eyes. she hovered over you, a smirk playing on her glossy lips.

her hands slid under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your stomach before gliding up to cup your breasts. she squeezed and massaged them expertly through the thin fabric of your bra. oeaning down, she placed hot, open–mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone, her tongue darting out to taste your skin.

minju’s touch was electric, igniting sparks of pleasure that raced through your body. her fingers deftly unhooked the front clasp of your bra, freeing your breasts to her greedy hands and lustful gaze. she licked her lips as she admired your exposed flesh.

“fuck, (y/n)… you’re gorgeous.” minju breathed, before dipping her head down to capture one of your nipples between her soft lips. she suckled and laved the sensitive bud with her tongue, sending jolts of pure bliss straight to your core. “i’m going to make you feel so fucking good, baby…”

minju’s hand slid down your stomach, popping the button of your jeans and tugging the zipper down. she slipped her fingers inside, cupping your sex through the damp fabric of your panties. she could feel the heat emanating from your core, the evidence of your arousal.

“mmmh, you’re already so wet for me, aren’t you, (y/n/–ssi?” minju purred, rubbing slow circles over your clothed slit. her touch was maddeningly teasing, stoking the flames of your desire higher. “i’ve barely touched you and you’re dripping…”

she leaned down, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered. “i can”t wait to taste you, baby. i bet you’ll be delicious..."

with that, she yanked your jeans and panties down your legs, tossing them carelessly to the floor. minju settled between your thighs, pushing them further apart to expose your glistening folds to her hungry gaze.

“fuck, (y/n)... you have such a pretty little pussy.” she breathed, before diving in to run her tongue along your slit, savoring your essence. “and you taste even better than i imagined…”

minju gripped your hips, pulling you tighter against her greedy mouth as she devoured your pussy with enthusiasm. her tongue plunged deep, stroking your inner walls and curling against that sensitive spot that made your toes curl. she lapped and suckled your clit, flicking the hard nub rapidly as two fingers pumped in and out of your dripping cunt.

“mmmh, fuck yes... you taste so fucking good, (y/n).” minju moaned against your sex, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. she could feel your thighs trembling, your hips bucking against her face as she brought you closer to the edge. “i want to make you come all over my tongue, baby. i want to swallow every drop of your sweet cum…”

she redoubled her efforts, sucking hard on your clit as a third finger joined the others, stretching you deliciously. minju fingered you hard and fast, her hand making obscene wet sounds as she fucked you with her fingers. all the while, she never let up her assault on your clit, sucking and licking the tender bud like a woman starved.

minju could feel your body tensing, your muscles drawing taut as a coil wound tight inside you. she knew you were on the brink of a massive orgasm, and she wanted to taste it, to feel your pussy clench and spasm around her invading fingers as you came undone.

“come on, (y/n).” she urged, her voice rough with lust and desire. “come all over my fucking face, baby. i want to taste your orgasm, to feel you gush into my mouth as i make you fucking scream…”

with a particularly hard suck on your clit and a curl of her fingers against that perfect spot, minju pushed you ruthlessly over the edge. she moaned long and low as your pussy spasmed and clamped down around her fingers, your release gushing out to flood her mouth and chin.

minju moaned as your essence filled her mouth, lapping up every drop of your release like a woman dying of thirst. she continued to stimulate your sensitive flesh, drawing out your orgasm for as long as possible until you collapsed back against the bed, boneless and sated.

crawling up your body, minju captured your lips in a searing kiss, plunging her tongue into your mouth so you could taste yourself on her lips. her fingers, still glistening with your juices, slid up to circle your clit teasingly as she ground her hips against yours.

breaking the kiss, minju flashed you a wicked, lust–drunk grin. her eyes were dark with desire as she gazed down at you, taking in your debauched appearance — hair mussed, lips kiss–swollen, chest heaving. she loved reducing pretty little things like you to wanton, needy messes.

“mmmh, i want to feel your hot little cunt on mine, (y/n).” minju purred, her voice a low, seductive rumble. she shifted her hips, moving to straddle your thigh and pressing her dripping sex against yours. the feel of your slick, swollen folds sliding together sent sparks of raw, electric pleasure shooting through them both.

minju began to grind against you, rolling her hips in slow, sensual circles. her juices mingled with yours, making the slide of your cunts obscenely wet and easy. she threw her head back with a low moan, savoring the delicious friction and pressure.

“fuck, (y/n)… your pussy feels so good rubbing against mine.” she gasped, picking up the pace. her movements became more urgent, more insistent, as she rutted against you with wild abandon. “it’s like we were made to fuck each other like this…”

minju’s hands gripped your hips tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass as she rutted into you harder, chasing her pleasure. her breath came in short, sharp pants, and her skin glistened with a sheen of sweat.

the room filled with the crude, carnal sounds of their coupling — the slick, wet slap of flesh on flesh, their escalating moans and cries of ecstasy, the creaking of the mattress as it absorbed the force of their passion. minju’s eyes locked with yours, blazing with lust and hunger as she ground down particularly hard, her clit throbbing against yours.

“come on, (y/n).” she urged breathlessly, her voice strained with impending release. “come on my fucking cunt, baby. i want to feel you come apart beneath me, want to hear you scream my name as i make you fucking scream…”

with a particularly hard, deep grind, minju pushed you both over the edge. your cunts spasmed and clenched against each other, your releases gushing out to coat your thighs. minju collapsed forward, her sweaty skin pressing against yours, as you both trembled and shuddered through the aftershocks of your intense orgasms.

finally, after long moments of panting and basking in the afterglow, minju lifted her head to flash you a satisfied, smug grin. her eyes sparkled with mischief and satisfaction, taking in your utterly fucked-out expression.

“mmmh, now that was fucking hot, (y/n).” she purred, her voice a low, intimate murmur. “we should definitely do this again sometime…”

The porch swing creaked gently under you, rocking soothingly against the humid summer evening. You’d been waiting for Wonhee, your best friend, for maybe twenty minutes, feeling a little foolish in your t-shirt, skirt and flip-flops. Her mom would be home soon, and Wonhee had rushed out to run some last-minute errands, leaving you stranded on the family’s porch with nothing but the fading daylight and your own buzzing thoughts.

The screen door opened with a soft click.

You didn’t look up, assuming it was Wonhee returning, burdened with bags.

“Aw, look who’s still here.”

That voice wasn’t Wonhee’s. It was lower, smoother, laced with a dry amusement that sent a jolt straight down your spine. You turned.

Yunah, Wonhee’s older sister, stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She was back from her second year of college, and she looked different. Her hair was shorter, stylishly tousled, and she wore simple jeans and a tight black tank top that highlighted the lean muscles of her arms. Her gaze, always so discerning, settled on you with an intensity that made you feel completely see-through.

“Hey, Yunah,” you managed, your voice a little tight.

She stepped out, letting the door swing shut behind her. “Waiting for Wonhee? She texted me. Said she got held up at the store. You’re stuck with me, I guess.” She moved to the swing and sat down beside you, not too close, but close enough that the swing shifted, and your bare thigh brushed against the denim of her jeans. You pulled your leg away hastily.

“Oh,” you said intelligently, focusing on the distant sound of cicadas.

She didn’t speak for a moment, just studied you. You could feel her eyes tracing the line of your neck, the bare skin of your shoulders. “Last summer before college, right?” she finally asked.

“Yeah.”

“Big plans?”

You shrugged. “Not really. Just… um. You know. Figuring things out.”

“That’s what college is for,” she said, her tone casual. “Figuring out who you are, what you want.” She leaned back, stretching her legs out. “Wonhee’s already figured out the ‘what she wants’ part, apparently. Boys lining up at the door, Mom tells me.”

You chuckled, a nervous, breathy sound. “She has a way with them.”

“And you?” Yunah’s question came out a soft probe. She turned her head to look directly at you. Her eyes were dark and unwavering. “Any boys lining up for you?”

You swallowed. “There was one. From my homeroom. He asked me out a couple weeks ago.”

“And?” She prompted, her lips curling into a faint, knowing smile.

“And… I said I’d think about it.”

“Why?” she asked, looking genuinely curious. “He ugly? Annoying? Bad breath?”

“No,” you laughed. “He’s nice. Really nice.”

“But…?” She let the word hang, an invitation.

You looked down at your hands, folded in your lap. The confession felt like pulling a tooth. “I’m just… unsure.”

“Unsure about him?”

“About… everything. About what I—I want.” You risked a glance at her. She was listening intently.

“What you want,” she repeated slowly. “That’s pretty vague.” She shifted on the swing, turning her body slightly toward you. The space between you diminished. Her knee pressed against yours. “You mean… like, your sexuality, or something?”

You flushed, then nodded, barely a movement.

“Ah,” she said, a soft exhalation. She looked out at the yard, then back at you. “That’s normal. Lotta people were unsure at some point. Some just never admit it.” Her gaze softened. “You ever been with a girl?”

Your breath caught at her directness. Your heart hammered against your ribs. You shook your head. “No.”

“Thought about it?”

A lump formed in your throat. You nodded again, this time with more conviction, driven by a strange courage her presence invoked inside you.

Yunah’s smile returned, more focused, more thrilling this time. She looked at you like you were a butterfly under a microscope. “What makes you unsure?” she asked, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “Is it the idea itself? Or how it works?”

“I—I don’t know,” you whispered.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” she asked, her tone suddenly switching into such nonchalance it was almost jarring.

You squirmed, the swing creaking in protest. The heat in your face was unbearable. “I… tried.”

“But?”

“It never, um. It never worked. I couldn’t—I didn’t know what to do.” The admission was humiliating, but saying it to her felt like shedding a weight.

Yunah nodded thoughtfully. “And when you tried… what did you think about? What got you close?”

The air seemed to vanish from the porch. The world narrowed to the swing, to her proximity, to the dark, knowing eyes fixed on you. Your mouth was dry. You couldn’t speak.

Your mouth was dry. You couldn’t speak. The confession was lodged in your throat, a secret so heavy it felt like a stone. Yunah’s gaze never wavered.

“Come on,” she coaxed, her voice a low, hypnotic drawl. “It’s just me. I’m not going to laugh. I want to know.” Her hand, which had been resting on the swing’s chain, moved. She reached out and touched your knee, her fingers warm and firm on your bare skin. The contact felt electric. “What do you think about when you try?”

You stared at her fingers, tracing the lines of your kneecap. The cicadas’ drone seemed to swell, filling the silence you were clinging to. You looked up, meeting her eyes. The truth was there, pulsating in the space between you, so obvious you felt she must already know. You opened your mouth, closed it, then finally let the words tumble out in a ragged whisper.

“You,” you whispered.

A beat of silence. Yunah’s fingers stilled on your knee. Her eyebrows lifted slightly, her expression shifting from predatory interest to something else—surprise, yes, but also a deep, dawning satisfaction. “Hm?” she murmured, her thumb beginning to stroke your skin again, a slow, deliberate caress. “Why’s that?”

You shook your head helplessly. The heat in your cheeks pulsed. “I don’t know,” you mumbled, avoiding her eyes.

“You don’t know?” Yunah echoed, her tone dripping with mock innocence. She leaned closer, her breath a warm whisper against your ear. “You think about me, while you’re trying to touch yourself, and you don’t know why?” She laughed softly, a low, thrilling sound. “I think you know exactly why. You’ve liked me since you were a kid, haven’t you? Following me around with those big eyes. I saw it.”

Humiliation twisted in your stomach. She knew. She’d always known, and she’d teased you for it, kept you at a distance.

“I was just—you were cool,” you defended weakly.

“Cool,” she repeated, amused. Her hand slid higher up your thigh, her fingers tracing the seam of your skirt. “And now? What am I now?”

You couldn’t answer. You just stared at her mouth, at the curve of her lips.

Yunah leaned back, her eyes sweeping over you, taking in your flushed face, your heaving chest, your hands clenched in your lap. She looked thoughtful, then shrugged. “I could help you, you know.”

Your heart stopped. “W-what?”

“I could help you find out,” she repeated, as if offering to show you a new app on your phone. “Give you a practical lesson. Since you’re so curious.” Her lips quirked. “And since I’m the subject of your little fantasies, it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“Yunah, I—you can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” she challenged, one eyebrow arched. “You need a guide. Someone who knows what they’re doing.” She let her gaze drift down your body, slow and appreciative. “It would just be helping, no one has to know.”

The head spun a little. This was insane and wrong, and everything you’d ever wanted.

“I…” You couldn’t form a sentence.

“Do you want me to help you, baby?” she asked, and the endearment, oozing with patronizing sweetness, unraveled the last of your resistance. “Do you want to know what it feels like?”

You nodded slowly.

“Good,” she whispered. Her hands went to your waist, strong and sure. “Come here,” she instructed, her voice firm but kind. She guided you, turning you on the swing until you were facing her. “Straddle my lap.”

The command, so simply given, short-circuited your brain. For a second, you just stared at her. The porch, the summer night, the distant world—it all dissolved into a hum in the background. There was only Yunah, and the terrifying, thrilling thing she was asking.

You can still stop this, a panicked voice in your head insisted. You can laugh it off, say it was a joke. But your body was already moving, a traitor to your fear. You rose on shaky legs, the skirt fluttering around your thighs. You placed one knee on the swing cushion on either side of her hips, the old chains groaning softly with the shifting weight. Then you lowered yourself, the heat of her body meeting yours even through your clothes, and you were straddling her.

Your skirt rode up, baring your legs almost to the tops of your thighs. You were taller than her like this, looking down, but you felt utterly small. She was in control. She let her hands rest on the swell of your hips, her thumbs making slow circles on the fabric.

“See?” she said, her voice a low murmur. “Not so hard. Now, put your arms around my neck.”

You obeyed, looping your arms over her shoulders, your fingers tangling nervously behind her head. This brought your faces close. You could see the faint summer-sun freckles dusting her nose, the slight smirk playing on her lips. Her perfume was everywhere.

“Good girl,” she cooed. “Now, I’m going to help you. But you have to talk to me. You have to tell me what you feel. Understand?”

You nodded, unable to speak.

“Words, baby,” she chided gently, one hand leaving your hip to cup your cheek. Her thumb brushed your lower lip.

“I understand,” you breathed.

“Good.” Her hand returned to your hip, gripping a little tighter. “We’ll start slow. Just a kiss. You’ve thought about that, haven’t you?”

God, yes. You gave another tiny nod.

“Tell me,” she insisted, her eyes holding yours captive.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’ve thought about it.”

She closed the little distance between the two of you, and her lips met yours.

It was a soft, closed-mouth kiss, gentle and exploratory. Her lips were warm, slightly chapped, and they moved against yours with an ease that made your stomach flutter. It was sweet, achingly so, and it lasted for three heartbeats, maybe four, before she pulled back just an inch. Her breath fanned your lips.

“Okay?” she asked, her voice a husky whisper.

“Yes,” you gasped, the word sounding punched out of you.

“Good.” She kissed you again, a little less chaste this time. Her lips parted slightly, and you felt the wet tip of her tongue trace the seam of your mouth. A jolt of undiluted desire shot through you, and your own lips fell open on a sigh. She took the invitation, her tongue sliding into your mouth. It was slick and warm, and it moved against yours with a lazy confidence that made your hips twitch forward involuntarily, pressing your clothed center against the hard plane of her stomach. A soft sound escaped you, a moan swallowed by her mouth.

She hummed in approval, one hand sliding from your hip up your spine, pressing you closer. The kiss deepened, turned hungrier. Her other hand came up to cradle the back of your head, her fingers tangling in your hair. You were drowning in her, in the slide of her tongue, the scrape of her teeth on your lower lip, the little sucking kisses she placed in the corners of your mouth.

You lost track of time. All you could think about was the creak of the swing as you shifted, the rough denim of her jeans under your thighs, the feel of her lithe body beneath you, and the maddening friction where you ground yourself against her, seeking pressure you didn’t fully understand.

Finally, she broke the kiss, both of you breathing heavily. Your lips felt swollen. She looked up at you, her eyes dark and glazed. “You’re a quick learner,” she murmured, her thumb stroking your heated cheek. “You like that?”

“Yes,” you panted.

“Tell me what you liked.”

You hesitated, embarrassment warring with arousal. “Your… your mouth. The way you… kissed me.”

“Mmm. And what are you feeling right now?” Her hand, the one that had been on your back, slid around your side and splayed low on your belly, just above the waistband of your panties.

“It feels hot.”

“Hot where, baby? Be specific.” Her voice was a deceptively light tease, but her eyes were serious, demanding.

You swallowed. “Between my legs.”

“That’s my girl,” she praised, and the hand on your belly dipped lower, her fingers slipping under the elastic of your panties. You jolted as her fingertips brushed the thatch of hair. Her fingers delved deeper, and you let out a muffled mewl as they made contact with your soaked cunt. The slick, hot evidence of your arousal coated her fingers immediately, and she made an appreciative sound in the back of her throat.

“Fuck,” she breathed. “You’re drenched. That all for me?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your hips rocking instinctively against her hand, seeking more contact.

“Look at you,” she cooed, her fingers sliding through your folds, gathering wetness. “Riding my hand already. So eager.” She found your clit and circled it once, slowly, with the pad of her middle finger.

Your back arched, a sharp moan tearing from your throat. The sensation was blinding, a direct line of white-hot pleasure that seemed to short-circuit every other nerve in your body. You would have fallen backwards if her arm wasn’t around you.

“There it is,” she said, her voice thick with satisfaction. “The little button that makes you lose your mind.” She continued that slow, torturous circle, her eyes watching your face intently. “Tell me.”

“It’s— it’s too much,” you whimpered, your fingers clutching at her shoulders.

“You can take it,” she coaxed, her circling finger never stopping. “You’re just not used to it. Breathe, baby. Rock your hips for me. Show me how you like it.”

Tears of overwhelmed pleasure pricked your eyes. You tried to obey, moving your hips in a shallow, jerky rhythm against her finger.

“That’s it,” she encouraged, her voice quiet. “Just like that. You’re doing so good. So good for me.” Her other hand, which had been gripping your hip, moved up. It slid under the thin strap of your tank top, pushing it off your shoulder. The neckline gaped, and the warm evening air kissed your exposed skin. Her hand didn’t stop. It cupped your tits through your flimsy bra, her thumb finding your one of your nipples and rubbing it to a hard peak through the fabric.

You moaned, a broken, continuous sound, your forehead falling to her shoulder.

“No, no, look at me,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. She used the hand on your breast to give a slight, commanding squeeze. “I want to see your face when you feel this.”

You forced your head up, your vision blurry. Her eyes were dark pools of hunger.

“Good,” she whispered. Then her finger on your clit stilled, pressing down firmly. “Now, I’m going to put my fingers inside you. Okay?”

You nodded frantically.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, please, Yunah, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” She shifted her hand. You felt the blunt pressure of two fingers at your entrance, pressing against the soaked, clutching warmth. She pushed in slowly, stretching you out until she filled you completely, her knuckles pressing against your outer lips. She held them there, buried to the hilt, letting you feel the full, intrusive stretch. “How does that feel?”

“Full,” you choked out. “So full.”

“You’re so tight,” she groaned, her own composure slipping for a second. She began to move, a slow, dragging withdrawal followed by a smooth, deep thrust. “There we go,” she purred, feeling you clench around her. “Found another sweet spot, didn’t I?”

You could only moan in response, your hips meeting her thrusts in a ragged, uncoordinated rhythm. The swing creaked in a steady tempo. Her thumb resumed its work on your clit, now slick with your own arousal, circling in time with her thrusts.

You were hurtling toward the edge, embarrassingly close already. The sounds of the night—the cicadas, a distant car—faded into a roaring in your ears. All you could feel was the slick, hard push-pull of her fingers inside you, the maddening circles on your clit, the rough pinch of her fingers on your nipples.

“I can feel you getting closer,” she murmured, her pace increasing slightly. Her thrusts became harder, more purposeful. “Your pretty little cunt is squeezing me so tight. You want it, don’t you? You want to come for me.”

“Yes,” you sobbed, the tension winding inside you to a breaking point. “Please, Yunah, I’m gonna—”

She shifted her hand, angling her fingers to hit that deep spot with every thrust, and her thumb pressed down on your clit, not circling, just holding a firm, steady pressure. The change was immediate and catastrophic. The coil snapped.

Your body convulsed, the chains of the swing rattling as the orgasm ripped through you for the very first time. It was an overwhelming wave crashing into you that soaked your thighs and Yunah's hand, your pussy clenching and spasming around her fingers in desperate, greedy pulses. You felt every ridge of her knuckles dragging against your slick inner walls, milking out wave after wave of hot, sticky cum that gushed out in embarrassing squirts, drenching the seat beneath you and splattering against her wrist. The sensation was intoxicating, like your whole core was exploding in starbursts, your clit throbbing under the unyielding press of her thumb. She held you through it. Then slowly, agonizingly slowly, the waves subsided into gentle aftershocks. You were boneless, your entire weight slumped against her, your face buried in the crook of her neck. You were breathing in ragged, wet sobs. She gently withdrew her fingers, the movement making you twitch. You heard her bring her hand to her mouth, and then the soft, wet sound of her sucking her fingers clean.

“Mmm,” she hummed, the vibration against your cheek. “Even sweeter than I imagined.”

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t think.

She held you, one hand stroking your sweat-damp hair, the other resting on your bare thigh. The swing swayed gently.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

You managed a weak nod against her skin.

“Look at me, baby.”

With immense effort, you lifted your head. Your eyes met hers.

“See?” she said, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Nothing to be unsure about now, was there?”

There's something about the soft lilt of your voice that makes him feel ashamed to even speak in your presence. There's something about your enticing eyes that makes him stutter and stumble with his own words, his grammar-police persona flying out the window. There's something about the sure sway of your hips that makes him want to avert his gaze and look more all the same time; like something sinful he shouldn't want but crave for anyway.

You're the kind of woman that makes Sim Jaeyun nervous.

Park Jongseong's cousin from the States that always comes to visit for summer, with that bold show of your body that'll usually often get frowned upon in his neighbourhood, that honey tint of your skin that's far from the local society's beauty standard. You're upfront and so unapologetically you, something he admires and makes him overly conscious if his hair looks nice or not.

It's another summer and you're here again. You're always a welcome addition to their annual trip to Jay's beach house, a road trip that's usually joined by the other five plus you and him. But this year, Nishimura Riki had a last minute decision to cancel his flight to Japan and opted to spend the summer with them instead of with his family.

Which leaves all of you with no space for one person inside Jay's SUV.

"I call dibs on the rear seats," Heeseung says before anyone gets the chance to and disappears into the car. Riki opens his mouth, about to follow the eldest of the group, when Jungwon shoots him a sharp look and blocks his way with his hand.

"No, Riki. You're not getting a seat."

Riki's face morphs into horror. "What?! Am I excluded from this trip?"

"You cancelled your flight this morning. You were never included in the trip."

Seeing the look of hurt on his face, Sunoo actually takes pity on Riki. Peering inside, the blonde mumbles with a pout when he sees a small ice box sitting beside Heeseung. "Surely we can squeeze him into the rear seat, right…?"

"All of his six-feet-one ass? I'd like to see you try, Sunoo hyung." Jungwon shakes his head. He leans on the passenger door, already the assigned co-pilot of the car, in charge of Spotify playlist and Waze and moral support to his Jay hyung. "Either one of you sits in another's lap, or we can Uber Riki to the beach house."

Hearing that, Riki immediately throws his hands. "It's a two-hour drive, hyung, I might just be paying for the Uber's car loan! It's gonna be so expensive!"

"If you can afford cancelling your flight with no refunds, then I think you can afford an Uber to Sokcho."

Riki whips his head to his Sunoo and Jake hyung, jutting out his lips in a pout that's borderline pitiful. Jake mirrors his expression, not really having the power to go against Jungwon's verdict—as if anybody could. Jake pities him, really, but it's Yang Jungwon. There's a whole menace behind those cute dimples and boba eyes.

Beside him, Sunghoon lets out a long sigh. "Then one of us will have to sit in another's lap."

It's an option that has everybody darting their eyes around, afraid that any eye contact with Jungwon will make them become the sacrificial thighs for the two-hour road trip. They're all men packed with mass and muscles, a result of a gym routine that unexpectedly becomes a problem today. Each of them at least weighs one hundred-forty pounds. Jake's sure that if he was chosen, he'd lose his legs by the time they exit Seoul.

Just in time, a loud thud is heard from the car boot. You and Jay walk into the scene, just having finished loading all of their stuff into the car. Jake adjusts his glasses instinctively, unknowingly fixing his appearence when his eyes land on you.

You've abandoned your cardigan, now only wearing a yellow camisole top that only reaches your belly button and a pair of jeans shorts that ends at the bottom swell of your ass. Your outfit choice hides nothing about your figure—your perfect body that admittedly has always been on his mind.

Jake gulps and lets his eyes trail down to your legs. You're seriously one of the most beautiful and hottest girls he's ever seen, and unfortunately, he has a severe problem of having a crush on baddies who are completely out of his nerdy league. You're definitely one of them.

When he looks up, Jake almost faints when your gaze catches his eyes with an unreadable expression. He quickly averts his eyes, adjusting the thick black rims of his glasses that didn't need adjusting.

Did you notice him staring?

"Car seat problem?" Jay asks when he senses the tension among the boys, already foreseeing this issue the moment Riki told him that he was joining their road trip over the phone this morning. They hesitantly nod.

"So what's the solution?"

"Riki takes an Uber to Sokcho—"

"Which will cost him his tuition fees," Jay comments, ever the hyperbole-user.

"—Or someone has to sit in another's lap."

Judging from the expression on Jay's face, he, too, doesn't think it's a comfortable position to be sitting in on a two-hour road trip.

But apparently, someone thinks otherwise.

"Oh, then let's do that!" You pipe in, flashing them with your charming smile. "I don't mind doing it!"

There's an elephant silence that follows your statement. Upon seeing their gaped expression, your smile slowly dies down, unsure if you had said the right thing.

"…Or not."

"Or yes!" Riki interrupts, relief flooding his senses. His eyes lit up as he looks around at each one of his friends. "Guys, she's offered to sit in anyone's lap. We can do that, right?"

Jungwon narrows his eyes. "It's a two-hour drive."

Riki blinks nervously. "But noona wants it."

"Then let Y/N noona sit in your lap."

Now, there's a rosy blush blooming across Riki's cheeks. Jake frowns. Lucky bastard. "I-I mean—"

"Not him," you cut in, a small smile playing on your lips. Jake can feel the exact moment everyone holds their breath, as if the air pauses on its own accord and waits for the rest of your sentence. Either they're anticipating or dreading to be your exclusive seat in the car—he's not sure. He's certain that he's the former, but he's also certain you'd pick someone more your type—Sunghoon or Riki, who are loyal gym buddies that possess strong thighs for you to sit on—or even Heeseung who's abandoned his nap and is eavesdropping the conversation now.

He doesn't know why, but surely someone hot like you would pick someone just as hot, right? And hot in Sim Jaeyun's definition is someone who matches your confidence (not him), someone who has a good body and is not shy to show them (Jake thinks his body is nice, but he's also always wearing long-sleeves), or just anyone but him.

Jay pinches the bridge of his nose. "Then who?"

When your eyes meet Jake's, the brown-haired boy almost loses his breath.

A smile curves up your lips. Jake thinks he's hallucinating because there's no way you are smirking at him.

"With Jaeyun."

There's a ripple of gasps, disbelief and shock mixing with a hint of betrayal (no doubt from Riki). Jay's brow disappears behind his hair.

"Seriously, Y/N? You don't have to—Riki's rich enough to pay for the Uber."

Riki's protest is muffled when Jungwon pulls him into a chokehold and slaps a hand over his mouth. Jake wants to pity him, really, but this time he thinks he's the one who needs help because what do you mean? There's no way—

"I'm serious. Jaeyun-ah."

—Oh my fucking God. Jaeyun. Jaeyun. Who's Jaeyun? Who the fuck is Jaeyun?

Jake has a trouble hearing you over the loud roar of his blood, heart threatening to jump out of his throat. But he manages a small, airy, 'Hm?' when all eyes are on him.

You tilt your head slightly, eyes never letting go of his, holding him hostage in your gaze alone. This, paired with the way you call his government name—a name you prefer over Jake because 'it's cuter' (according to you, not him) when he first introduced himself to you four years ago, and Jake had let you because he could never say no to you—are the most perfect, never-before-seen formula to unravel the physics genius Sim Jaeyun.

Yeah. Jake is a goner. And will soon have a boner if no one stops you from picking him as today's sacrificial thighs.

"Can I sit with you, Jaeyunnie?"

Someone please say no. Someone please stop you. Someone please tell this Jaeyun to say no because—because why him? Is this some kind of a cliché ploy that popular girls do to play with men's feelings, especially a physics nerd like him? Because if it is, Jake hates to admit that he'd be a willing participant (even if it'd break his heart a little).

"Yes, sure," he squeaks, finally recognising that Jaeyun is his name. He's still trying to process that you chose him—not Sunghoon with his ridiculous broad shoulders, or Riki with his ridiculous long legs, or Heeseung with his ridiculous charm—but him, who's sweating buckets and dampening his armpits underneath his long-sleeved T-shirt. His glasses almost glide down his nose from how sticky it is.

"It's settled, then!" Sunoo claps once, already red and irritated from having to stand under the unforgiving sun for longer than necessary. "Jake hyung and Y/N will sit together. So I will be sitting with—"

"Me!"

"Me!"

Sunoo ignores Sunghoon and Riki, and walks straight to the rear seats. "With Heeseung hyung!"

Soon, there's shuffling and then everyone's already inside the car. Riki sits in the middle with a pout, a penalty for causing the minor disruption and losing rock-paper-scissors to Sunghoon and Jake. Sunghoon is happily humming to a song from the 80s, occassionally turning around to tease Sunoo who's been trying to join Heeseung in his mandatory road-trip nap. Jay and Jungwon have settled into their designated seats as the drivers of the day, already talking about the route they're taking and traffic condition. While Jake—well, he's preparing himself for the inevitable.

You're still standing by the door, overseeing the situation at hand, and Jake tries to ignore the way his cheeks burn under your weighted gaze.

"Can I sit now?" You softly ask. Jake hesitates a moment before nodding his head frantically.

"Y-Yes."

You, on the other hand, do not hesitate at all. Jake instinctively spreads his legs when you climb into the car, already aiming his lap as your throne for the next 120-minute of the ride. His senses heighten, overly aware of his friends' eyes watching his every move, and the soft scent of peach from your body wash that invades his nose when your weight finally settles on him.

In a split second, Jake goes from never daring to touch you to having you resting your ass comfortably on his clothed dick, thanks to a certain Japanese who's now queueing songs like he didn't just commit a fatal crime against his Aussie hyung.

His slightly longer thighs bracket your exposed ones in a hesitant cage, every point of your skin meeting his seems to burn through the fabric of his jeans. Your hair and neck are one breath away from his nose now, where he's inhaling lungfuls of peaches and creams and your vanilla-ish perfume, and Jake chooses to blink at the ceiling to avoid looking over your shoulders and possibly flashing himself with the swell of your chest under that thin camisole top. The already-cramped space feels even smaller, and Jake doesn't think he can breathe properly.

While at it, Jake hopes his prayers could break through the car roof and reach the heavens.

God, please have mercy on me and let my other head not have a brain of its own.

God answers him shortly in the form of you shifting around.

"You comfortable?" You ask innocently, adjusting yourself on his lap. Jake nearly inhales his tongue, feeling blood rush to his ears and south. A strangled noise escapes his throat instead.

"Mhm."

From the front, he can hear a snort coming from none other than Jay. "You sound constipated, dude."

'Try having a pretty girl sit on your dick then!', is what Jake wishes he could say to his friend, but he knows that this is more of a him-problem. Someone like Jay won't get flustered in this kind of situation—at least not as bad as he is, who doesn't even fucking know where to put his hands, hovering in the air like he's about to conduct a choral speaking.

So, Jake resorts to conveying his rage through the rearview mirror instead, hoping that his glare and frown are enough to make Jay feel bad. (They don't, Jay finds him cute instead).

Jungwon comes to save the day as he turns to the backseat. "Do you have everything with you?" All of them except Jake hum. He thinks he doesn't have his sanity anymore, but of course the younger boy pretends to ignore him.

Jungwon eyes each one of his friends, his gaze stopping longer at the sight of Jake gripping the leather seat, the white of his knuckles almost matching his face, and you smiling innocently at him. Jungwon badly wants to laugh.

Jake widens his eyes at Jungwon. Help me!

The younger boy gives him an indecipherable look before turning to face the front. "Alright. We're not turning back for you even if you forgot your PlayStation."

Jake wants to say that they might want to leave a certain Sim Jaeyun to save him from this misery, but all words are gone from his mind when the car starts forward with a sharp jolt. Your back meets his chest in a soft thud, punching air out of his lungs. Your ass pushes deeper into his lap and Jake nearly pierces the leather with his nails from how desperately hard he's gripping it.

"Oops, sorry!" Jay chimes from the driver seat, sounding far from sorry.

You straighten up and turn around, looking more sorry than your cousin. "You okay? Sorry about that, Jaeyunnie."

Oh, fuck. Please don't use that voice on him when he's one bump away from kissing your lips. You're so close it feels like you're breathing in the same air he exhales, so close he can see the faint, tiny freckles dusting your cheeks and the bridge of your nose.

"Yeah," he manages, voice hoarse like he's just swallowed a bucket of sand. "I'm okay."

There's a halt in your movement, like you're actually seeing him through the calm façade he's exuding. His breath catches when your eyes drop to his lips briefly, the bitten-red skin tingles under your heated gaze.

Then, after a moment, you smile at him so easily; as if the tension never existed, as if the pull was only one-sided.

"If you say so."

When he's met with your shiny hair again, Jake lets out a breath he unknowlingly held. Your voice fills up the space softly as you begin talking to Jungwon and Jay, all cheery and unrestrained while he's exerting mental training equivalent to physical labour of a building constructor to stop his dick from hardening every time you move.

He hears a snicker from his left and immediately meets with Riki's mischievous eyes. The younger boy mouths something that has Jake closing his eyes and leaning on the headrest in defeat.

'Don't get horny now, Jake hyung.'

Jake is worried that if it's not now, it'll be the next time Jay hits a bump.

Instead of a road bump, Jake's personal enemy turns out to be you.

Ten minutes in, everything is still going fine. Jake is still breathing, alive, and hasn't popped a boner that could traumatise you and get him banned from the car permanently. You also seem okay, still engrossed in a conversation with the cat-duo driving the car, talking about college and your winter trip to Japan.

For a moment, Jake selfishly thinks if his lap was that…sitable, seeing as you haven't shown any signs of discomfort yet. Or, to be fair, it has been barely ten minutes since they're en route, and though those minutes are enough to pull the others into a car nap, ten minutes feel like one round of orbit around the Sun when he has you sitting on his lap.

Jake can feel himself melt into the seat. Maybe this isn't so bad at all. Maybe he can make it to Sokcho without having to cut his dick off before anyone could see his hard-on. He just has to sit really quietly and will his mind to avoid teetering dangerous territory.

Yeap. Everything is fine.

Not until you decide to put your hands on his thighs.

Jake almost jolts at the contact, flexing his thighs instinctively when you place your perfectly manicured fingers on the surface of his jeans. It's a brief touch, one that can pass as accidental, but the lingering heat it leaves behind feels almost physical.

His eyes dart to the back of your head, trembling with nerves nearly frayed at the edges, gauging your reaction, and bites the bottom of his lips when you resume your conversation as if nothing happened. Or nothing really happened to you.

It's just a touch, for God's sake. Calm your dick down.

If a simple touch from you could unravel him this fast, what about other things? What if you hug him, or-or if you hold his hand, or—wait, is he wishing for other things to happen between you and him? (He does, but he knows that it won't happen.)

Jake gulps harshly and decides to enjoy the scenery instead. He stares hard out the window, so intense like he's memorising every species of the trees they pass by, mind lost in a whirlwind of horny thoughts clashing with rationality, when you do something again.

This time, it isn't an innocent touch on his thigh. It's an innocent move to hear Jungwon better. You lean forward, pushing your ass deeper into his lap simultaneously, offering your ear to Jungwon who seems to be sharing a secret about Jay. Jake's breath hitches and his hands almost come up to hold your waist, the friction sending heat through his body.

Fuck. He peels his eyes away from the window forcefully and follows down the dip of your spine to where your ass meets his crotch. Your position highlights the narrow of your waist and the width of your hips, all sinful curves that have him swallowing harder, something inside his pants threatening to stir alive. Jake closes his eyes.

Think of Jesus, Jake. Think of Layla. He absentmindedly fixes his glasses. Think of quantum physics. Think of—

"—Oh!" You squirm excitedly, round butt wiggling slightly against his cock. "Yes, I met her before!"

Jake hisses before he can stop himself, the sound serving like a knife cutting the conversation. You and Jungwon instantly turn to look at him, the latter wearing a mischievous expression when he sees the heat painting Jake's face red.

"Are you okay?" You prompt in concern, noticing how stiffly Jake is nodding at you.

"Y-Yeah. Good. I'm horgoony."

Freudian slip is gonna be the death of him.

Jay and Jungwon burst out laughing, catching the slip as fast as any dirty-minded man would. Jake's face turns a darker shade of red, avoiding your eyes whose brows now pinching in confusion.

"Horgoony?" You echo, pretty confident you have never heard of that strange word spoken before. Jake immediately shakes his head, panic creeping into his chest when Jungwon shows a sign of opening his mouth.

No! Do not let that orange cat speak! Jungwon only cares about his downfall!

"I feel horribly good! Yeah," Jake stammers, to hell with any logical reasoning. "Like, I feel good because we're on a road trip. But also kind of horrible because I get motion sickness sometimes."

Now that the string of the sentences has flowed out of his mouth, Jake thinks he is kind of making sense. Satisfaction blooms in his chest when you nod in understanding, because two conflicting emotions—feeling good and horrible—can exist simultaneously, right? Like the way he wants to push you from his lap and hide in the deepest part of the Sokcho forest forever but also craves to just grab your hips and pull you close and have his way with you—wait stop.

What a horrible, horny, nothing-good man you are, Sim Jaeyun.

"That does sound horrible." Jake snaps out of his thoughts when he registers your voice, nodding fervently to amplify the faux pity that he's just orchestrated.

You give him a sorry look, the one where it pulls the corners of your mouth down into a frown. Jake sighs in relief. You bought it. Thank God for his smart brain.

"Yeah. I think I'm just gonna take a nap," he adds, voice turning softer when you still look at him in concern. He feels a strange need to overexplain.

"Motion sickness happens because your eyes see one thing while your inner ears and muscles feel another. If I take a nap, it'll eliminate the visual stimuli that causes the conflict…" Jake trails off, catching himself before he could go on and on and on on why humans experience motion sickness, and possibly bore you to death. He shakes his head imperceptibly. "So—yeah. I should take a nap."

To his surprise, you only give him a warm smile. "I never knew that, Jaeyun. Then what's the correlation between motion sickness and playing your phone in a moving vehicle?"

Jake blinks behind his glasses, genuinely taken aback that you're actually listening instead of zoning out halfway through his rambling.

"Oh. Um." He clears his throat. "It's kind of the same concept. Your eyes are focused on something stationary—your phone—but your body still feels the movement of the car."

You hum softly, leaning back against him slightly, prompting him to continue. Jake immediately forgets how lungs work.

"S-So your brain gets confused because the signals don't match," he continues weakly. "Your eyes tell your brain you're sitting still, but your inner ears are like, 'No, we're moving.' It's like mixed signals, and our body doesn't like mixed signals."

His ears are warming up from how true the words are to the situation he's having with you.

"And right now you're seeing my stationary body while the car's moving," you continue with a subtle tilt of your mouth, "so you're nauseous and all dizzy now, right?"

Jake almost chokes to death. Did you know about his little problem? He blinks at you rapidly, hand itching to touch his glasses in a fit of nerves.

Oh my God. He's going to die. He's going to die and Jungwon will write 'Sim Jaeyun was a smart friend, died a horny man with a dick that never went down, a standing ovation to his contribution to Seoul National University' as his headstone epitaph. You know about it so Jake is going to die!

He stumbles with his own words. "I-I mean—It's actually—"

You give him a cheeky smile. "I'm just joking with you, Jaeyun. You're probably sick because you're having me on your lap like this."

You start digging into your front pocket, frowning when it's empty. Jake holds his breath when your hands move to your back pocket, looking for whatever it is that gets you so determined and his dick so excited whenever your finger brushes against his crotch. Jake is almost blue from not breathing.

He thinks this time he's really going to die.

"Found it!"

You offer your palm to him, where two mint candies sit idly on the soft surface. Jake's chest slowly feels lighter as air rushes in, no longer collapsing under the pressure of your searching hand accidentally brushing against him moments ago. He clears his throat.

You beam at him. "These will soothe your sickness, Jaeyunnie. Please take them."

Jake studies your face.

Do you know what you're doing to him? Was everything done on purpose, or are you really oblivious to everything?

He swallows and forces a nod, taking the candies from your palm, feeling a spark of electricity in his system when his fingers brush your skin.

"Thank you, Y/N."

You turn your back on him, resuming your conversation with Jungwon and Jay. All sweet and cotton candy, unaware of the turmoil he's going through. Jake stares at the candies in his hand, a mocking sign to his misery, and heaves out a quiet sigh. He glances at his wristwatch.

It feels like two world wars had happened but it's only been twenty minutes into the drive. An hour and forty minutes of horny torture remains for Sim Jaeyun to endure, and he's not sure if he's going to survive.

He slowly closes his eyes. Maybe sleep can help with horniness, too.

It does, but only for a moment, because Jake could swear he just blinked when you tap his shoulder a few times.

Jake blinks, half-groggy and half-alert. Did he have a wet dream of you and get hard in his unconsciousness? Is that why you woke him up?

But he's met with your apologetic face instead. "I'm sorry for waking you up," you whisper, trying not to wake other boys who are fast asleep. "But my back's sore. Can I lean on you for a moment?"

In a flash, all incoherent thoughts fly out the window. Guilt starts lodging in his chest as he realises—glancing at his watch—that you've been sitting straight for one hour. Before he knows it, Jake is already nodding at you, adjusting his seat to accommodate the new position.

"Y-Yes, you can."

God, he's such a loser. The word 'no' seems to disappear from his dictionary whenever you're around.

You reward him with an appreciative smile and waste no time to turn around and lean back softly on him. The moment your back touches his chest, Jake can feel his system kick start, a chemical reaction that he can never understand no matter how hard he studies Biology.

You physically relax into his chest. "This is so much better," you sigh, a dreamy smile on your face, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Then you tilt your head upwards to glance at him. "Is this okay for you?"

Jake hopes you can't feel how fast his heart is beating through the fabric of his shirt. The brown-haired boy nods wordlessly. "More than okay."

For a moment, you just stare at him, brilliant eyes holding his in a soft gaze. It's a silent minute full of everything unspoken, rendering him speechless and even more restless because no matter how smart he is, he could never decipher the meaning behind this look you're giving him. There's something you hide that he feels like he should know, like an open secret waiting for the right time for him to catch.

This time, Jake is even sure that you can hear his heartbeat.

Then, as if that moment never happened, you close your eyes and get comfortable.

"We should sleep, Jaeyun. Don't want you to get carsick again."

You nuzzle closer and Jake holds his breath, feeling the silky strands of your hair brushing against his jaw. His hands hover, not knowing where to land, though the pinch of your waist is where he wants to hold the most. Eventually, Jake settles on his thighs, watching the difference between his veiny hands and the smooth span of your thighs.

Is he still sleeping? Is he dreaming or are you really sleeping on his chest?

It seems that sitting in his lap really tired you out, because you're fast asleep in less than five minutes. The guilt in his chest amplifies at the sight of your closed eyes, breathing evening out as sleep overtakes your being. Jake bites his lips.

He's so shameless, napping to avoid getting turned on instead of caring for your being. He’s so horrible, worrying more about his hard-on than the fact that you’ve been uncomfortable for an hour. Jake wants to cry so bad.

Jake spends the rest of the ride watching you sleep. He fixes your hair when it falls over your face, tucking it behind your ear carefully, and then smiles to himself when he sees your pout. He blocks the sunlight with his hand when it's glaring on your skin through the window, not minding letting his hand redden from the harsh light. He instinctively holds your waist at a sharp turn, firm and secure, though he lets go just as fast as if it burns, afraid that it's not a touch you'd receive had you been conscious.

Other than the carnal desire he has suppressed for you, this road trip also makes him realise the depth of the feelings he actually harbours for you. He's so doomed. He's so doomed because in what universe would a hot, sweet, popular California girl like yourself, return back the feelings of a bland, studious, quiet Korean-Aussie boy like him?

In fictions. In another lifetime. But not in Sim Jaeyun's current universe right now.

However, the Sim Jaeyun in this universe also will never know peace.

Because just as he's getting comfortable with the you-watching routine that he just recently discovered, the road has another plan for him when Jay finally, and actually, hits a bump this time.

The first bump is a mild surprise. Jake gathers it's a small bump, one that Jay overlooks while getting excited over Bon Jovi playing on the rodeo. But the aftermath brings you settling deeper into him, pressing on him in a way that has his breath hitching. Jake holds your waist on instinct.

"Oh my God, I didn't see that," Jay mutters from the front.

Jake tries to steady his breath. That's…a shock. One that shatters the soft atmosphere he created while watching you, now replaced with the same tension he's been fighting the last hour.

Jake lets go of your waist when he assumes that it's just a one-time thing. But then the bump happens again, and instead of a solid, big one—it's shaky, like they're sliding through endless, tiny jagged rocks.

"Damn bro, this road needs fixing," Jay makes another commentary. He glances at the rearview mirror. "You good, Jake?"

Jake doesn't know what to answer. "I think I am," he mumbles, voice clipped.

Is it good that you're practically bouncing in his lap, adding more pressure with almost no interval for him to recover mentally? He thinks not. But Jay doesn't have to know that.

"We're almost there," Jungwon chimes in, navigating the map. There's a shakiness in his voice that comes from the vibration caused by the bumps. "Fifteen minutes at most. We found a shorter route just now and traffic was smooth."

Fifteen minutes.

Jake thinks he might actually die in fifteen minutes.

Another bump sends your body rocking against him softly, your sleeping face scrunching for a brief second before relaxing. His grip tightens.

Fuck.

If Jay doesn't stop the car and fix this damn road himself then he's definitely going to pop a boner soon.

Jake squeezes his eyes shut when another bump rattles through the car, and then again, and again, and again until Jake can barely separate one sensation from another anymore. Until he doesn't know where he starts and where you end anymore. You shift unconsciously, settling heavier against his chest before Jay hits another bump.

This time, Jake makes a mistake of looking down at you.

He didn't notice it before, too lost in his sappy, romantic feelings for you. But right now, it's actually so damn obvious that the angle from where he sits taller than you and you lean against him, he can easily see your cleavage past the neckline of your camisole.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The road doesn't stop shaking beneath the tires, and so does his pulse as he watches your breasts bounce with every bump that comes their way. Jake averts his eyes, so stiff and so strained, but can't help letting his gaze drift back to watch the soft mounds shake.

This is bad. This is very, very bad, and Jake is nothing but a bad fucking pervert.

A particularly rough patch of road sends the entire car jolting. Your body bounces against him harder this time, more pressure and more friction that Jake almost whimpers. He tips his head back, gulping harshly as the line of his long neck glistens with a sheen of sweat.

Inside his jeans, he can feel his cock kick.

Oh, fuck—he's definitely hard now.

Oh my fucking God.

"This is the last one, promise!"

Jake doesn't even register Jay's words, or the way your head hits his jaw from impact, because his internal system is flooded with horny-filled panic. He can feel it: his dick twitching and getting semi-hard from the continuous stimulation from your bouncing. He doesn't even realise that he's now clawing at his own thighs, seeking strength that could neutralise his blooming lust, or that you are finally awake.

"Are we almost there?" You ask groggily, blissfully unaware of the raging boner forming under your ass. You sit up when the coastal view greets your blurry vision, mouth gaping in awe.

"Oh, wow!" You gasp, always excited to visit Sokcho no matter how many times you've been there. "It's beautiful as always!"

The road is smooth now, but Jake's final torture arrives in the form of you bouncing, excitedly and consciously, in his lap. You wiggle in enthusiasm, urging Jungwon to pass your phone that's been charging at the front to take some pictures and send it to the family groupchat.

"Jungwon, Jaeyun, look at those seagulls!"

Jake is seeing no seagulls. He's only seeing white hot, painful pleasure as you move in his lap, his brain dissolving into useless static. His fingers twitch, itching to grab your waist and force you to stay still, but you're so excited that he almost didn't have the heart to do it.

"Did you see that?" You lean to the window, and then shift happily when you spot kites in the sky. "We should do that too! Hey, Jay, do you think you can—"

Jake finally has had enough.

The restraint that he's been holding onto finally breaks like a taut wire getting cut. His hands snap to your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, hips almost bucking up from the delicious friction alone. His lips drop to the shell of your ears, hot, ragged breath brushing the sensitive skin as his voice lowers an octave.

"Y/N," Jake licks his dry lips, the tip of his tongue peeking through. He watches with dark eyes as the hair on your neck stands straight under his unforgiving proximity.

"Stop fucking moving."

And that's the moment you feel it.

A bulge, hard and rigid and big, poking your ass from where you rest in his lap.

Oh my fucking God.

Sim Jaeyun is hard.

You freeze, breath hitching.

Neither of you dare to move. Not even your excitement of being back to your uncle's beach house, or Jay's questioning look from where you cut your sentence, can bring you to move. No.

You couldn't, not when Jake's hard dick is nudging at you right now, so tangible and unmistakably his.

The brown-haired boy is still panting in your ear, shooting tingles through your system. His grip on your waist is almost bruising, like he's trying very, very hard to hold back from overstepping lines that shouldn't be overstepped.

You hadn't meant for this to happen. Sure, Jake is fun to tease. That boy is all broken words and nervous glances whenever you're in his proximity, and it can't be helped when he blushes prettily too.

You just can't stop yourself from seeking his attention in your own way, because aside from being a pretty boy, Jake is also such a sweetheart and so, so smart. And in an age where intellligence is a scarcity, you absolutely adore smart guys.

Especially the one who isn't condescending and is actually eager to help people like him.

So, really—you hadn't meant for this to happen. Offering to become the one without a seat is a decision you made when you consider yourself to be lighter than most of the guys, but offering to sit in Jake's lap is definitely a decision born from personal bias. You kind of knew what it would cause—seeing how stiff and awkward Jake had been—but you let it go halfway through when the soreness in your back outweighs your desire to tease.

Which has now brought you to this situation.

The car's still moving like nothing happened, and the boys are slowly stirring to life one by one. Everything is normal, except for the nails digging into your waist and the deep timbre in your ear.

You swallow harshly, not daring to move. Jake is so close, so close that you can feel every movement of his chest. You sit still in his hold, trying not to wince from how hard he's gripping your hips, and how hot you find the situation is.

His dick, despite no movement is being made, only hardens further. Jake gasps almost imperceptibly, almost matching the way your breath leaves your mouth when you notice, again, just how big he is.

Fuck. Fuck, that's so hot. Sim Jaeyun is so hot and you can feel yourself slowly getting turned on.

Without any warning, as if driven by an invisible force that urges to look at him, you finally turn around.

And Jake looks absolutely wrecked.

Beads of sweat dot on his forehead, the furrow of his eyebrows showing restraint and constraint. His lips are red from how hard he's biting them, and his previously clean, smooth glasses are now fogged up and hazy. His eyes, glazed over with tamed lust, lock into yours, half-lidded and dark.

A breath catches in your throat.

This is not the Jaeyun you know.

Or, more accurately, this is not the Jaeyun he usually shows.

This is another side of him, like seeing Jake wearing short-sleeves and showing his arms for the first time. Gone are his round, puppy eyes, now replaced with this narrowed, slit gaze that makes you shiver under his heated stare. He used to be so nervous around you, and you can feel that he's nervous now, too, but his pent-up sexual frustration seems to outweigh any rational daily-Jake thoughts.

This is still Sim Jaeyun. Just a different, never-before-seen side of Sim Jaeyun.

"Are we finally there?" Riki, the last one to awaken, stretches beside the two of you. You don't even notice that the car has pulled up into the driveway of Jay's ridiculously huge beach house from how piercing Jake's gaze is holding your eyes captive now.

Jake bites his lips, the fog in his head slowly clearing up now that the car has stopped. As if snapping out of a daze, he quickly maneuvers you into Riki's lap instead, showcasing his strength that he often hides. The latter yelps at the sudden weight and grabs your waist on instinct, before Jake darts out of the car without looking back.

"Sim Jaeyun! Bring your own fucking luggage!" Jay shouts from the car boot, but the brown-haired boy has already disappeared behind the door.

You sit, stunned in silence, still frozen and unable to speak. Not until Riki nudges at you, Heeseung and Sunoo impatiently asking the both of you to move so that they can get out.

"Are you okay, noona? Is hyung okay?"

You nod. You give the youngest a strained smile as you slowly move out of his lap and out of the car, careful not to start another war of hormones.

"We're okay."

The lie tastes bitter on your tongue.

Jake is avoiding you.

It's a foreseeable aftermath. It's inevitable. But it pains you regardless.

It gets to the point where he straight up refuses sitting next to you at dinner, which raises some eyebrows and teasing from the boys. But you know better.

He is deliberately avoiding you.

It frustrates you, really. Because every summer, it is your thing with Jake to sit in silence in the morning and read at the porch, enjoying the sunrise over wordless, comfortable silence. But now he purposely sleeps in, waking up later than usual, leaving you alone in the cold of dawn, your paperback copy of The Inheritance Games left untouched on your thighs.

At movie nights, he'll be the last one to join, just to see where you sit first to avoid being near you. He'll become extra quiet when you speak, acting like the floor is more interesting than your face, not even sparing you a glance.

And your patience is wearing thin. Almost thinner than the bikini you're wearing right now.

Fine. He can ignore you all he wants, act like he didn't just pop a boner after letting you sit in his lap. He can pretend like you never affected him, pretend like nothing happened, but one thing you know is that Jake could never betray his attraction for you.

So, be fucking it. You don't care if it's petty to pick the skimpiest bikini you own today, the one in hot pink that always contours the line of your cleavage, perfectly bunching up your tits and making them look rounder. The one that you know will drive Jake crazy from how bouncy your ass looks, basically confirmed when his eyes can't seem to stop trailing after you even after you dive into the pool.

You come to the surface with a gaping mouth, letting the water slide down the lines on your body, and make no show of hiding yourself from looking straight at Jake.

That coward has the nerves to look away after staring at you like a touch-deprived teenager.

"Is Sim Jaeyun single?"

The reason why you always agree to join the all-boys road trip is because it's not exactly all-boys. There are girls who live nearby. Girls you're acquainted with from how often you follow your cousin to his beach house every summer. Spoiled rich girls whose parents come from the same tax bracket as your and Jay's family.

And one of those girls is shamelessly checking Jake out now, hungry eyes drinking in the way his wet, long-sleeved shirt sticks to his torso, outlining the faint lines of his abdomen that he never shows. She's sitting on the edge of the pool, feet-dipping while you take a break from your swim.

You narrow your eyes, an ugly spark of jealousy blooming in your chest. You don't like the implication of the question, and you absolutely hate the way she's looking at him now.

"Don't even think about it."

Your neighbour only shrugs and continues her eye-fucking. "He's so my type. So nerdy, so smart. I wonder how he'll look like without the glasses?"

You will poke her eyes before she gets the chance to. "Use your own imagination," you hiss, almost bitter when you realise that you also have barely seen him without his glasses.

Jake has sensitive eyes that react badly to contact lenses, which explains his preference for thick glasses than going out without them. Even now, when everyone is fooling around Jay's enormous pool, his thick, black-rimmed glasses perch on the bridge of his tall nose—the nose you hope you can put into good use one day.

The girl only hums, half-listening to you. She sighs dreamily. "I can't believe that I have his number."

At this point, the jealousy has turned so ugly you're actually seeing green. Or red. Or whatever that Cortis song sounds like. "You have his number?"

She finally pays attention to you. "Yeap! I asked him yesterday. I don't know what I should say to start the conversation though," she pouts, glancing back at Jake who's now sitting on the side with Sunghoon, sipping on coconut water. "Should I ask him if I can join dinner at your house tonight?"

Jake gave his number to her?

You grit your teeth. The hurt has materialised into a knife, twisting in your chest in a sharp pain disguised in jealousy. So, while Jake's been avoiding you like a fucking plague, he's been spending his time giving away his number to any curious girl? He's been talking with other girls while leaving you with radio silence, one that you didn't deserve because it was him who popped that boner?!

You are the one who's supposed to ignore him—not the other way around!

What a fucking loser.

You can't stop the bitterness from leaking through your voice when you finally speak.

"It's me and Jay that you should ask—not Sim Jaeyun. And no, you cannot join dinner at my house tonight."

You leave her dumbfounded by the pool, seething in anger that the water on your skin could steam from the heat alone. You march to the slide doors, giving Jake and Sunghoon the nastiest side-eye you could ever give when the latter calls out to you, and slam the door behind.

Whatever. Or not whatever. Sim Jaeyun is a fucking pervert and a jerk and a coward, and stupidly hot while being so oblivious to how hot he actually is. Whatever! You don't care.

You don't care that he barely speaks a word to you. You don't care that he leaves any room you walk into. You don't care that he's flirting with other girls and giving away his number willingly when you had his on default for being Jay's younger cousin, and from Jay himself at that.

The corner of your eyes burn.

You wish you didn't care.

You're ignoring Jake.

Jake knows this the moment you no longer come to the porch to read. Instead, every morning is now spent in the garden with Jungwon, tending to Jay's mom's flowers. After, you'll brew some hibiscus tea that you pluck from the garden and share it with Sunoo and Riki.

And when he walks into the kitchen to get some food, you no longer meet his eyes, or save that apple that he knows you know he likes to eat for breakfast. You let Heeseung eat all of them! It's so—so unfair, because he likes apples and you know it!

It sends Jake to the end of a cliff. Why are you suddenly being like this?

His sanity is stretching thin as he tries to work his brain. Why the sudden change? Is it because of his silence? But he's just embarrassed to face you! Or—did you find out about it?

Genuine horror floods his mind when he thinks, oh no, you must've realised how disgusting he truly is. How dirty-minded and perverted he is, that every day he has to take cold showers three times a day whenever he catches a glimpse of you.

You in your sleepwear. You in your casual shirt. You in shorts.

You in bikini.

Jake has fallen out of any point of salvation, because God, could any man get this horny just from a mere look? In the back of his mind, he knows it's the image of you sitting in his lap that ignited the beginning of his undoing, but the continuous hard-on he gets whenever he's around you is definitely, entirely on him.

And Jake, oh so sweet Jake, doesn't dare touch himself to the thought of you. No. He'd rather leave his balls blue, take cold showers every morning, every evening, and every night, and let his dick go from standing tall like a national anthem was being played to becoming flaccid under the cold water without any action. He doesn't even have the guts to touch his own fucking dick, the guilt blocking him from doing anything to relieve himself.

So—did you find out about it? Because if you did, then Jake could understand the cold shoulders you're giving him.

But Jake is a mere man—maybe a bit perverted, and a bit too horny despite his image, so he couldn't stop himself from getting hard the moment he sees you walking into the living room in nothing but an oversized white tee that falls off your shoulder. He grabs the nearest cushion and places it on top of his crotch, blood already rushing south when he sees the strap of your black bra.

This is why he has to go to church sometimes; to balance everything out. Because Einstein never talked about the solution or formula to cure men's (Jake's) sexual desires that seem endless. And sexual desires that come from seeing a strap of a bra alone.

Whatever it is, Jake's soul has almost left his body, already tuning out of his surroundings. He doesn't even realise that Jay and Riki are wrestling for the TV remote, and accidentally sending said remote flying onto the floor just a few feet away from him.

He only comes to when you stand in front of him, back facing him, and bend over to pick up the remote.

You. Bend. Over. In. Front. Of. Him.

In a second, Jake has a full view of your ass. The shirt rides up slightly, revealing white shorts that stretches across the round flesh as you bend over to reach the remote and Jake feels like he's brought back to the car when he was fighting demons as you unintentionally ground his crotch with every movement.

His grip on the cushion tightens, head dizzy from the way you practically shove your butt in his face.

Jake releases a shaky exhale.

He can see the outline of your panties and wonders if it matches your black bra.

And he can see the outline of his doomed future if he stays in the living room any longer.

"Whose turn is it to pick the movie?" You casually ask, now straightening up as if you just didn't flash Jake with your perky ass.

"Jake hyung," Jungwon replies from the center of the long couch, carding his hand through Sunoo's silky hair, the blonde who's now laying down his head on his lap. "It's his turn."

Your face remains expressionless as you turn to the glasses boy. But instead of taking the remote from your hand, Jake stands up, avoiding eye contact and clutching the cushion tight over his crotch.

"I-I suddenly feel sick! Gonna skip tonight's movie, bye!"

Then he flees the living room, leaving behind six confused men and one very angry, very upset girl.

Jake thinks he deserves a medal for surviving the living room.

Or perhaps an exorcism.

The moment his bedroom door clicks shut behind him, Jake drops the cushion onto the floor and drags both hands down his face with a groan. His glasses nearly fall off his nose in the process.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

He paces once across the room, then twice.

Outside, he can still hear the muffled sounds of the movie downstairs—Riki yelling dramatically at a character, Sunoo complaining about spoilers, Jay laughing too loudly. Normal sounds. Normal people.

Meanwhile Jake feels like he's one accidental glimpse of your shoulder away from committing a crime.

His eyes squeeze shut.

That white shirt.

The black bra strap.

The way you bent over in front of him so casually, completely unaware that Jake nearly ascended right there on Jay's living room couch.

"Fuck," he whispers weakly to himself.

Jake drops onto the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees.

Maybe he should take another cold shower. That would make four today.

"I should sleep," he mutters to himself, breath shaky. "S-Sleep can help with motion sickness and horniness."

With a newfound resolution, he turns off the lamp and settles under the blanket. His movement is stiff and awkward, overly aware of the tent straining his shorts. Once he pulls the blanket over his chest, Jake closes his eyes, forcing sleep into his system.

Only, the image of you swimming in your hot pink bikini flashes behind his eyelids.

"No, stop. Not that," he whispers, brows scrunching in protest. He shakes his head, as if physically removing the image away, and tries again.

This time, the image of you in his lap comes back, stripped down to heated skin and soft breaths, your body moving against his in ways that make his stomach twist.

His eyes fly open. The image is so clear and vivid, thanks to his photographic memory and insane imagination—the very thing that's been saving him in the academic department now serving as the tool that brings him to his downfall.

His cock twitches involuntarily.

"N-No," he pants, chest moving rapidly. He grips the edge of the blanket, knuckles turning white. "I—Stop—"

Then he remembers just now: you bent over, giving him a delicious access to his ass-shaped sufferings, and Jake almost whimpers from the flashback alone.

The room rises in temperature, the air conditioner doing nothing to tone down the feverish lust spreading through his body. Jake finally relents and discards the blanket, glasses all fogged up as he stares at the bulge under his shorts.

"I'm sorry," he whimpers, slipping off his shorts and boxers until they bunch up around his knees. "I'm so fucking sorry."

His cock springs free, standing tall in the dimness of his room. The tip glistens, already drooling with precum that shows no sign of stopping. With shaky hands, hesitance still edging around his lust, Jake finaly touches himself.

He has to bite down hard on his lips to muffle the sound threatening to escape. His hand stutters, the feeling of finally rubbing some relief after days of holding back comes crashing down on him. His head spins from how heavy his cock is in his hold, veins protuding like they're going to combust.

He slowly starts moving his hand, lathering up precum to ease the glide. His head tips back, a strangled sound catches behind his throat.

"Oh, God," his head spins, sparks of lust bursting at the tip of his fingers. "Oh, fuck—"

Through his hazy gaze of the blurry lenses, Jake tightens his grip slightly. A moan escapes his lips at the force, his cock only getting heavier in his hand. He plays with the mushroom tip of his dick, thumbing the slit and hissing when it sends pleasure up his spine.

"Ngh—" his eyes squeeze shut, brain putting up pieces of his memory of you. His body jerks when the rough pad of his thumb touches the underside of his cock, and as if on cue, the image of your jiggly breasts inside the car flashes behind his closed eyes.

"Fuck—Y/N," Jake sobs, picking up his pace. His wrist turns and flicks, biceps flexing hard at the speed he's going. Guilt starts accumulating inside his chest the more he thinks of you, of your voice, of your gaze, of your scent—but guilt isn't enough to stop Jake from chasing his own release.

"'So sorry," he chokes, letting go of his bottom lip, bitten-red and swollen. He imagines it was your hand instead of his, smaller and softer, with those manicured nails that he loves so much. How tiny your hand would look around his hard dick, trying to grip his length in its fully erect state.

Jake isn't inexpereinced. He's had his own fair share of sexcapades with a few people, and he's always been told that he's bigger than average. The big dick that he hides under his pants, further concealed by his nervous persona that only certain girls find cute.

But seeing his state right now, Jake thinks he's the furthest thing from cute.

He's pathetic.

Pathetic and gross and disgusting, feeling bad for jerking off to the thoughts of you but still unable to retract his hand and stop. The sound of his cries that he fails to hide fills up the space, and for the first time in days he's very glad that he won paper-rock-scissors during room assignment.

"Oh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," he chants, mouth gaping open when he can feel himself close. His wrist is already tired and numb from the relentless pace he's set, the slick sound of his sinful act matching the roar of his blood rushing in his ears.

"Please, please, 'm gonna cum," he sobs, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. His hips lift off the mattress. "Please—"

"Do not fucking cum, Sim Jaeyun."

Jake's entire body locks up.

His wrist stills immediately, pleasure crashing into horror so fast it makes his stomach twist. For a second, he genuinely thinks his heart stops beating.

The room goes dead silent except for his ragged breathing.

Through fogged-up lenses and teary eyes, Jake stares at you standing by the door, unable to process the fact that you're actually here.

That you heard him.

That you saw him.

Oh my fucking God.

His hand jerks away from himself like he’s been burned, chest heaving violently as he scrambles to sit up straighter. The blanket tangles around his legs from how abruptly he moves.

"I—"

Nothing comes out.

Jake has never felt this level of humiliation before.

Not when he failed his chemistry olympiad in tenth grade. Not when he tripped in front of his entire lecture hall. Not even when Jungwon found his hidden Pokémon card collection at nineteen.

This is worse. So much worse.

Because it's you.

You, standing there in that oversized white shirt slipping off your shoulder again, eyes dark and unreadable as you look at him sprawled across the bed like something shameful.

Jake feels sick. His face burns so hot he thinks he might actually pass out.

"S-Sorry," he chokes out instinctively, because apologising is the only thing his brain knows how to do right now. "I didn't—I wasn't—I—"

His voice cracks miserably.

Jake is going to cry.

What should he even say in this situation? Sorry that you caught him jerking off to you? Sorry that he's such a nerd, such a loser that the only time he could talk smoothly with you was when he was defining what motion sickness was, but never had the courage to tell you how much he likes you and how much you affect me? Sorry that he's such a pervert that he thinks of you in positions way too inappropriate to be just friends?

The weight of his arousal sits heavy against his thigh, a testament to a newfound, lifelong embarrassment that he'll carry to his grave.

Jake squirms under your heated gaze, and quickly covers his crotch with his blanket when you slip into his bedroom wordlessly. The door clicks shut, the sound amplified by the heavy silence hanging in the air. His body tenses up.

Oh my God—he messed up, didn't he? Jake hangs his head low in shame, tears gathering along his lashlines.

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to…"

His vision turns blurry. Fuck, you must hate him now.

"I-It's wrong—I know that—I'm sorry—ah!"

Jake looks up in surprise when your bold hand cups his erection. There's angry lines in your forehead, a sneer on your mouth, but the nasty look you're giving him does nothing to soothe down his arousal.

If anything, twisted as it is—it turns him on even more.

"Couldn't even look me in the eye downstairs," you begin, "but you here you are, jerking off to me like I wouldn't find out?"

The venom in your voice hurts him. You're being mean with your words, and it hurts his feelings but Jake couldn't care less. His mind is a messy jumbles of guilt and pleasure and shame, so all he does is cry and shake his head.

"I-I'm sorry, Y/N—"

"Are you really sorry?" you tighten your grip on his cock, one knee dipping into the mattress. "Your dick doesn't seem sorry though."

Jake wants to cry—oh, he's already crying. His hand curls into the sheets beneath him, unable to form coherent words when you start rocking the heel of your palm on his hard-on. The friction from the blanket and the pressure from your hand only spark electric pleasure through his system.

Within seconds, Jake is all hard again—even harder than before.

"Tell me, Jaeyunnie. Did all of this happen because I sat in your lap?"

Jake whimpers pathetically. You knew. Of course you knew. You're not only hot and pretty and kind, you're also smart like him, so in tune with your surroundings. You're a little mean right now, but it's okay because Jake believes that he deserves this after avoiding you without any explanation.

"Answer me, Sim Jaeyun."

"Yes," he croaks, shame burning his face red. His eyes screw shut. The admission sets his being on fire, skin flushed from embarrassment. "O-Oh, God, y-yes."

He cracks one eye open when you don't reply. Instead, he's met with your fiery gaze. The edges have softened with lust, like you're also affected by this, but you're good at keeping your control.

Unlike him, who's unraveling like a loose thread under your touch alone.

Jake almost whines when you retract your hand, but the sound is muffled with a gasp when you yank the blanket open. He instinctively closes his crotch area with his hands, but you're fast to slap his wrists away.

"I'm so pissed off, Jaeyun," you mutter, swinging your leg over his thighs so now you're straddling him. You fix him with your sharp eyes, hand finding his dick again.

"You've been acting like we're strangers and it hurts me so bad."

Jake's mouth hangs open as you gather his precum and start working your wrist around his cock. His brain barely registers your words, too lost in a cloud of lust, but when he finally processes it, he desperately shakes his head.

He wants to apologise again and again and again, because he is truly sorry—he didn't know how affected you were. How could he not, when you're always described as everything out of his league, but he's always described as everything that doesn't fit your type?

"I'm sorry, I was just—fuck—just ashamed—" he gasps, hips bucking into your touch. "Didn't mean to—t-to hurt y—ngh, Y/N, faster please."

You coo at him, feigning sympathy as you set a ruthless pace on his cock. Jake is big—something that isn't a surprise anymore since that day you sat in his lap—but the sheer size of him is enough to make your mouth water and your panties damp.

Damn these nerdy boys. Acting all shy and innocent when they have this monstrousity hiding behind those ugly glasses.

"Faster? You wanna cum, Jaeyunnie?" you tilt your head. Jake nods frantically. "I don't think you deserve it, though. Why not ask from those girls you gave your number to?"

Something sharp twists in his stomach. Jake's eyes fly open, almost cowering when you give him a distasteful look. He grabs your arms desperately and shakes his head.

"N-No! She asked me first—" you put more pressure and Jake damn near loses his mind. "—said she needs—help—w-with Physi—cs—"

You roll your eyes. It's that easy to fool him? Can't he see the way those girls fuck him with their eyes? Without waiting for his sentence to finish, you sink down and take him in your mouth.

"Oh, fuck!" Jake screams, accidentally thrusting up his hips. He bites his lips, glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose as you take him deeper, tracing the line of his veins with your sinful tongue. "Oh, Y/N—please."

You hum around his length, tongue swirling as you hollow your cheeks to deepen the suction. Jake nearly busts from that alone, mind melting into a puddle of your name, the wet heat of your mouth serving as a better pleasure than his own hand.

You start bobbing your head up and down, marveling in the way the weight of his dick sits on your tongue. He's so big that you're so close to choking, but you don't care. You need to remind Jake how stupid he's been acting and how stupid he is if he thinks that you were not just as attracted toward him.

Jake sobs into his hands, hips jerking with every touch of his tip hitting the back of your throat. His head is getting dizzier, he can feel the coil in his stomach getting tighter and he knows that anytime soon, he will come undone on your skillful tongue.

But just as he's about to reach that high, you let go of him with a pop.

"No!" Jake whines, tears sliding down his cheeks. You're so mean. "P-Please let me cum."

"Not yet, nerdy boy." You mutter, red lips slick with saliva and precum. Jake can only sob, dick throbbing in need and desperation.

This is the punishment he deserves for being a jerk. He knows that, but he can't seem to stop crying. God, he's so pathetic.

Then he feels movement on his thighs. He blinks through the foggy lenses and lets out a breathless moan when you lift up your shirt and shorts and discard them away, leaving you in nothing but a pair of bra and panties. His mouth starts salivating at the display of your beautiful body, and Jake swears he almost cums when he sees that you're indeed wearing black panties.

Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Just as he imagined—God, you're so perfect he wants to kiss you.

But instead of a kiss, you push his at his chest instead. "Lie down."

And like the obedient puppy that he is, Jake follows your word, carefully descending his back onto the mattress. He's still sniffling from the previous denial, but now it's mixed with anticipation of what's to come when you hover above him.

You trace a gentle finger along the tall bridge of his nose, a barely-there touch that makes him shiver. With a slow tap on the tip of his nose, you finally speak.

"Did anyone ever ride your nose, Jaeyunnie?"

H-His nose?

Girls always compliment his nose, but he's never given it many thoughts as to why they did that. "N-No. Never."

There's a wicked smile on your face as you stand on your knees. Jake watches with a mouth gaping open as you make a show of shimmying down your panties, painfully and traitorously slowly that he almost rips it with his hand.

"Ah, what a shame," you sigh dreamily. "Guess I have to be the first one then."

Once your panties are out of the picture, Jake is instanly hit with a wave of your arousal. Your pussy glistens under the moonlight, soaked with slick and dripping with need. Jake inhales shakily, stopping himself from darting out his tongue to get a taste.

Fuck. He's sure he has actually died in the car and this is heaven because not even in his wildest dream did he get to have you like this.

Too lost in his reverie, Jake belatedly notices that you have removed his glasses. Despite your mean words and your mean actions, the caresses of your thumb on his cheeks are so gentle that he thinks he's hallucinating.

"You're so handsome, Jaeyun," you murmur. "But I bet you'll look better buried between my thighs."

You give him no time to recover from your crude words when you slowly move to straddle his head. Then, with a hand in his hair, you descend, letting the tip of his nose nudge at your clit.

And oh my fucking God—you smell so divine.

"Ah, Jaeyunnie," you moan, rocking your hips slowly to test the waters. "Your nose feels so good."

You sound even more divine. Jake's eyes roll to the back, savouring the way your sinful moans fall on his ears as you use his nose to get off. The bridge of his nose slides through your folds—wet and sticky and so sweet that he can't get enough of it.

Jake wraps his arms around your thighs to give you support, and another moan escapes your lips upon seeing his veiny arms around your supple skin. He stares at you through half-lidded eyes, groaning despite your cunt suffocating him, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure to your system.

"Ngh—Jaeyun—"

He can't breathe, and he can't hear properly from how hard you're clamping his head with your legs, but he can't deny that this is the best way to die. Being suffocated by your leaking pussy sounds like a dream death compared to dying in Jay's old SUV.

You keep your rhythm, rocking your hips back and forth, grinding your clit on his nose and dragging your folds on the tall bridge until the sharp tip of his nose catches at your hole. The grip you have in his hair hurts his scalp, but everything is worth the pain when Jake can watch you fall apart on his face, his own cock pulsing with a trembling need to cum.

"Ah—ah—Jaeyun oppa—"

Fuck. Fuck that sacred nickname.

The dynamics between you two often makes Jake forget the fact that he is indeed older than you. Coming from the States, it's uncommon for you to address people with such honorifics.

But right now, using that very honorific against him ignites something inside him; a carnal desire that's been thrumming low in his guts, waiting to be unleashed.

This time, Jake barely stops himself from stealing a taste. He darts out his tongue, prodding your hole with the tip, and hums in satisfaction when your stance falters slightly.

"Don't," you hiss, but there's no heat in it. Jake takes it as a sign to continue, licking more into your weeping cunt until your pace turns sloppy.

He doesn't care. You're probably gonna be so mad at him and punish him more, but whatever it is you have prepared can wait. Right now, Jake is having the best pussy of his life—barely breathing but still eating so, so fucking well.

"Jaeyun—stop—"

"No," Jake protests when you try to get up, pulling you down until the full weight of your body rests on his face.

Oh God, choking on pussy has never felt so good.

"Sim Jaeyun!" You squirm, feeling the stirring inside your belly getting wilder. Despite your weak attempts, your hips keeps grinding on his nose, showing no signs of stopping. You throw your head back.

You knew his nose would be the best thing to ride on, but hearing the slurps of your slick and his saliva—the sinful noises of him feasting on your cunt—makes you almost regret not letting him eat you out first.

"Ngh—Jaeyun—I'm close—"

Jake pulls your hips harder, letting you grind your clit on the tip of his nose as his tongue pushes into your hole mercilessly. You let out a high-pitched scream, muscles pulling tight at his ministrations. The double stimulations are fast pushing you over the edge.

Soon, white hot pleasure crashes into you, your vision turning black momentarily. It's so blurry and messy that you haven't realised that you've been screaming his name raw, hips unrelenting to chase the high. Jake swallows every drop of your sweet nectar, moaning into your spasming hole as he licks it clean.

Fuck. He's already desperate to have another round.

When you come down from your orgasm, hair matted to your forehead, you look down at him furiously.

"Let me go! I told you not to do it!" You attempt to sit up, but Jake doesn't let go, shaking his head with a pout. His nose and chin are drenched with your release, it's so sinful and filthy and you can't lie that you like seeing him so wrecked and fucked over like this.

"Can I have more? Please," he begs, kissing your inner thigh unhurriedly. He's already so addicted to the taste of you, Jake thinks he's gonna die if he doesn't have another fill. "I'll be so good to you, Y/N. Wanna eat you out so bad."

You grit your teeth, pushing away the temptation to save your pride. "No. Get up, Jaeyun."

But Jake is stubborn. He's so desperate to have more of you that he doesn't mind if he's leaving his own cock neglected and balls blue. "Please, I need it bad," he nudges at your pussy with his finger, pupils blown wide at the strings of sticky cum decorating your folds. "Fuck, please, Y/N, I want to eat you out."

"I said get up, Jaeyun."

"Y/N—"

"Jake."

The sharpness in your voice cuts through the haze instantly.

Jake stills immediately.

The desperation in his eyes flickers into something softer, more uncertain, like a scolded puppy finally realising he’s crossed a line. His grip on your thighs loosens at once, chest rising and falling hard beneath you.

The sound of his English name on your tongue feels foreign and almost painful, because it lacks the usual warmth and intimacy that your 'Jaeyun' usually holds. Yet, something inside him pulses harder, liking the change more than he'd like to admit.

“S-Sorry,” he whispers automatically, voice rough. “I just…”

He doesn’t even know how to explain it. How could he? That hearing you moan his name made him lose every coherent thought in his brain? That he’s spent days trying to stay away from you only to end up here, beneath you, completely ruined anyway?

You study him for a long moment before finally shifting off his face.

“Sit up.”

Jake obeys instantly.

The movement is clumsy and needy. His hair is a mess, lips swollen, face still flushed from lack of oxygen and desire. Without his glasses, his eyes look unbearably open like this—too honest, too vulnerable.

You cup his jaw gently, the touch losing its cruelty. Jake melts into it.

"There he is," you murmur softly, fixing his bangs that are obscuring his eyesight.

Jake can feel his heart stutter traitorously. This version of you—tender and sweet—a glimpse of the usual-you, is always more dangerous than any teasing.

Wordlessly, you tug at his shirt, and Jake obediently holds up his arms to let you peel away the fabric. Your eyes flick downward, amusement tugging at your lips.

"You know," you start, fingers trailing slowly down his sculpted chest, "for someone who acted terrified of touching me in the car…"

He groans softly, already embarrassed.

"…You were pretty damn desperate down there, Jaeyun."

His face burns hotter. Fine, he's just a touch-starved man, desperate for you in every way possible. But how could he not? Have you even looked at yourself?

"I-I can't help it…" His eyes drop to your lips. "You tasted so good."

A breathy chuckle escapes you, quiet and fond. But to Jake's ears, he's already hearing the wedding bells chime.

And suddenly the humiliation twisting in his chest eases into something warmer when you climb into his lap again, turning slowly until your back presses against his chest.

The exact same position. That fucking position in the car that has his mind on an endless frenzy that he thinks he was genuinely getting crazy.

Jake goes completely still beneath you.

“Oh,” you whisper, settling against him deliberately. “Now you’re quiet again?”

His hands hover uncertainly near your hips, like he still can’t believe he’s allowed to touch you.

“You’re mean,” he mumbles weakly against your shoulder. You laugh, one hand patting his hair as the other one aligning his neglected cock on your entrance.

"But I know you like it, Jaeyunnie."

At the same time you presses on the nickname, you sink onto his cock slowly, letting the bulbous head of his length spear you open.

The both of you moan simultaneously. Jake's hands find puchase on your waist, trying his best to stop from manhandling you to just fucking bounce on his dick and letting you adjust. You, on the other hand, let the stretch burn, your walls spasming to accommodate his length.

"S-So big," you stutter, taking him inch by inch. Jake drops his head on your shoulder, his own breathing ragged. "So—full—"

When he finally fits inside you to the brim, you let out a long, drawn-out moan. He fills you up so good that you can feel every vein against your walls, every pulse kissing your insides. It's a dizzying experience that prompts you to start moving your hips.

Jake’s fingers dig into your waist, trembling.

Not because he wants to stop you.

Because he’s trying so hard not to lose himself completely.

The position alone is enough to send him spiraling—your back against his chest, your body in his lap exactly like the car ride, except now there’s no seatbelt digging into his side, no boys teasing from the front seat, no restraint left between the two of you.

Just you and him.

And the devastating realisation that you wanted him too.

Jake lets out a broken sound against your shoulder when you move again, his forehead falling against your skin. His entire body feels feverish, overwhelmed by too much sensation and too many emotions crashing into him at once.

"Wasn't this what got you so hard, Jaeyunnie?" You pant between breathless moans. "Me in your lap, bouncing on your cock like this?"

"Ngh—" A strangled noise escapes his throat. Jake watches with bated breath as your hands find the clasp of your bra and finally let the two soft mounds free. Now, he badly wants you to turn around, eager to relive the scene of your bouncy breasts in Jay's car.

"Did you not—ah—crave this?"

You arch your back, pleasure tingling every nerves as his cock drags against your walls. Jake feels his dick throb inside your hole, the same position that ruined him now had him completely at your mercy.

"S-So tight," he whimpers, mouth falling open at the way you clench around his cock and roll your hips. "S-So fucking tight, Y/N, fuck."

Jake clings onto you desperately, bucking his hips to chase your movement. But you hold down a firm hand on his thigh, completely in charge.

"Don't," you warn, grinding down on him in a way that makes your ass ripple. "Or I'll get up and leave."

Jake freezes instantly.

The warning slices straight through him, sharp and effective. His hands tighten on your waist, but he forces his hips back against the mattress despite every instinct screaming at him to chase you harder.

“O-Okay,” he breathes quickly. “Okay. Sorry.”

God, he sounds wrecked.

You can feel the way his thighs tremble beneath yours, the strain in his breathing every time you move your hips slowly against him. Jake drops his forehead between your shoulder blades with a weak groan, like simply holding himself back is physically painful.

"I'm still mad at you," you murmur. You roll your hips again, faster this time, and Jake nearly whimpers into your shoulder. His jaw clenches so hard he might pop a vessel.

"Are you sure you're not the one—" you moan, your thighs burning from how fast you're exerting yourself. The wet sound of skin hitting skin starts getting louder the harder you slam down your hips. "The one who's being—mean?"

Jake sobs into your skin, half-regretting, half-dizzy. The tight heat of your cunt pulses and flutters around his dick and he genuinely feels horrible for only thinking using his other head now.

Even so, he still manages to apologise again. "I'm s-sorry—"

You clench around him on purpose. Jake digs his nails deeper. "Fuck—"

"Stop fucking apologising," you seethe, voice trembling as you feel your release getting near. "Delete her number or I'll sit in Sunghoon's lap when we get back to Seoul."

There's no bite in your threat. It's just a spur-of-the-moment kind of things, one that you say just to rile him up.

But Jake takes your words like a verdict. He snakes an arm around your waist, lips worshipping your skin in desperate, wet kisses.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, darling," he begs, tears clinging to his lashes. He bites his lips in an attempt to stop himself from moaning because he's so, so close. "I will block her. Fuck—I will delete her number. P-Please don't sit with S-Sunghoon—"

His speech is interrupted by a high-pitched whine. Jake hasn't come all night, he's nothing more than a thread waiting to snap. The moment you bounce harder and faster, the supple skin of your butt jiggling wilder, Jake can feel that he's about to come.

"Y/N—ah—p-puh—lease—" he whimpers, voice scratching at his throat. "'M close, 'm g-gonna cum—"

But he should've known that you're so, so mean.

The moment you lift off his cock, Jake genuinely sobs out loud, thrashing under you.

"No! No, please—" he chokes, hiding his crying face behind his hands, too shattered when his orgasm being denied again. "Please, no—I wanna cum, please."

You turn around and the sight of him—red-faced, wet cheeks, lips trembling—it softens your heart. You quickly pull his wrists and rest his hands on your hips, your own cupping his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, baby," you shush him, blowing kisses to the tip of his nose as you take him again. Jake whimpers quietly. "I'm so sorry—I'll let you cum this time, hm?"

Jake weakly nods, then lets out a soft moan at the familiar feeling of your walls enveloping him. You move again, already sore, but you no longer have it in you to torture your poor, poor Jaeyun. This time, you immediately begin with a fast pace, giving him a show of your tits bouncing with every thrust.

"Ah—fuck—Jaeyunnie—" you bite your lips, expression so erotic that it has the brown-haired boy drooling. "Glasses—like you better with glasses."

Jake is too dazed to register your words, so you pick the glasses on your own and put them on him. And there he is—your sweet, sweet boy, your Jaeyunnie that you adore so much, your Jaeyun that thinks it's bad for wanting you this much.

"S-So—handsome, Jaeyunnie," you roll your hips, chest arching into his face. "My nerdy boy, you're mine, hm?"

Jake physically cannot take it anymore. The sight of you on top of him, bouncing on his cock like your life depends on it, putting on his glasses and calling him yours—it's too much for Sim Jaeyun who's never been given this kind of attention and affection.

Especially from you.

His lips move, but you can barely hear him.

"Hm? What did you say?"

"I said I'm sorry, Y/N," his nails dig into your waist. "I'm so fucking sorry, please don't be mad at me."

Your brows furrow in confusion, but before you know it, Jake is already flipping you around, changing your position in one swift movement. You have half a second to gain your breath before the boy hovering over you pulls you closer by your ankles and throws your legs over his shoulders.

"I'm s-sorry," Jake stutters, slipping his dick back into your cunt and starts thrusting fast. "I-I can't hold it anymore."

Despite the showcase of his strength, Jake looks absolutely ruined. There's a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but from the pace he's railing you, you know that his lust ovverrides whatever little guilt he has.

Soon enough, the air smells so thickly of sex. The sound of his balls slapping your ass, accompanied by your high-pitched moans and his groans are the only one filling up the space, to the point that you're sure one of the boys must've heard you.

It's so hot and filthy that Jake's glasses are all fogged up again. His grip on your waist is now leaving bruises, but you don't care because all you can think of is Jake, Jake's big cock, Jake's stupid glasses and just Jake, Jake, Jake.

"F-f-f-fuck," he exhales shakily, splitting you open with his cock. "I-I'm so—close—"

You thrash around, fisting the sheets until it tears from the force of your nails. "Jaeyun—" you gasp when he keeps abusing that spot that has you seeing stars. "Oh, fuck—Jaeyun—harder—"

Jake leans forward, straining his arms on either side of your head. His glasses slide down his slick nose slightly when he bends down to capture your lips in his thick ones. You both moan into the kiss, finally getting the taste of each other, tongues already clashing for more.

Jake licks into your mouth, hips never faltering, and sucks on your bottom lip. You whimper, the sensation becoming too much until you're just breathing against his lips, all heat and teeth and saliva. Jake groans.

"I-I'm gonna—cum—" he gasps against your mouth, face scrunching in pleasure when you clench around him. "O-Oh my fucking God, Y/N, fuck—please let me cum inside."

His hands find your waist again, thrusting harder than before. His head drops to your shoulder as he begs, again and again.

"P-Please let me cum inside, please," he whimpers, voice needy and whiny. "Please—I'm gonna—I wanna—"

"Just cum," you moan when his teeth scrape against your skin. "Jae—Jaeyunnie—"

Jake groans. With last few, deliberate thrusts, he finally cums—a full-body orgasm that has him shuddering, his cock spurting out rope after thick rope of his release, painting your walls white.

You follow him just a second after, vision blurring for a moment as your second orgasm rips through your body. Your mouth falls open on a silent scream, eyes rolling back from how delicious your climax is.

Jake takes a long moment breathing into your ear, grinding his hips slowly before he's finally pulling out. He hisses as he drags out his cock, careful not to overstimulate you, and watches in awe as white fluid flowing out of your pulsing cunt.

"Oh my fucking God."

You breathe out a laugh, sounding breathless and disbelieving. Seeing Jake sitting still by your legs, you open your arms toward him.

"C'mere, Jaeyunnie. Let's cuddle for a moment before washing up—I'm too sore to walk."

Jake perks up at that. Gone is the hungry, lust-driven boy a few moments ago, now replaced with the shy, kicked puppy holding his tail between his legs.

"Cuddle?" he echoes, unsure. "Are you not mad at me?"

"I could never be mad at you for too long," you reply, giving him a reassuring smile.

It gives Jake a flicker of hope. He scoots closer, still cautious and observing, like approaching a scared animal.

"But I avoided you…"

You drop your arms and pretend to think, making a show of tapping your chin with a finger.

"You're right. You were mean for that. Why don't you carry me to the bathroom and clean me up so we can cuddle afterwards?"

Hearing that, Jake finally relaxes, his tight muscles loosening. With an eager smile, he scoops an arm under your knees and your back, and then lifts you up easily as if you weigh nothing.

"Your wish is my command, my princess."

The next morning, you receive knowing looks from the boys. There are lingering stares on your neck from where Jake was mauling your skin last night, but you have no problem showing them off.

Jake, on the other hand, is on the edge of another breakdown.

"So, Jake," Jay starts, already planning a mischievous teasing inside his head. "How did it feel like to get railed—"

"I did not get railed!" he squeaks, ears blushing red. "I-I was the one who railed her! Right, Y/N?"

There's a laugh bubbling inside your chest as you watch Jake squirm under the relentless teasing of his friends. It felt good to be the one in charge, but after that display of strength and the way he manhandled you last night?

You don't mind having him on top of you.

But the both of you know who's truly in charge.

And if you choose to sit in his lap again, this time grinding and shifting on purpose that he gets hard until the car reaches Seoul, nobody has to know that.

Well, maybe Riki knows. But who cares.

wow okay

permanent taglist: @kristynaaah @seungiesdoll @in-somnias-world @rikismists @loviseamms @ikeupop @k3nza @heezeunx @ot7archives @petulapetula

you loved school.

not because you were some overly studious nerd who couldn't get enough of textbooks and homework, but because school felt freeing. it was the only place where your lungs didn’t burn with the suffocating scent of alcohol.

home was different.

you dreaded walking back every afternoon, fingers tightening around your bag as you stood outside the front door, already knowing what waited on the other side.

the smell hit first.

sharp. bitter. stale.

it clung to the walls, the furniture and your clothes like it had permanently seeped into every corner of your life.

you hated it. you hated what caused it even more.

your dad.

ever since your mom died from a brutal car accident, your life had never been the same.

what was once a warm, happy family slowly fell apart piece by piece. your dad changed after her death. at first it was only a drink or two after work, small enough for you to pretend it wasn’t becoming a problem.

but as the days turned into months, and the months into years, his grief only grew heavier.

and so did the drinking.

he drowned himself in alcohol so often that eventually, it felt like he stopped being your father altogether. the man who used to laugh with your mom in the kitchen and drive you to school every morning became nothing more than a stranger passing through the house.

now, you couldn’t even remember the last proper conversation the two of you had without it turning into some sort of argument.

it had probably been almost two years.

you kept your bag slung over one shoulder as you sat in class, staring at your notebook without really seeing it.

you blinked slowly, forcing yourself to write a few words down just so it looked like you were listening.

around you, everyone else seemed more awake than you felt.

moka was somewhere nearby, probably already done copying notes and now quietly kicking your chair just to get your attention.

“psst,” she whispered. “you’re literally spacing out again.”

you turned your head slightly, forcing a small hum of acknowledgment.

“i’m not,” you mumbled.

instead of turning back to her work, she leaned forward a little.

“hey,” she whispered again. “random question.”

“do you think minju likes anyone?” that got your attention.

you glanced at her. “what?”

moka tried (and failed) to look casual.

“nothing. i was just wondering.”

you stared at her for a second, “you like her.”

“shh!” moka immediately hissed, looking around even though nobody was paying attention. “keep your voice down.”

you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips, “wow.”

you let out a quiet laugh.

for the first time all lesson, moka looked more distracted than you did.

the bell eventually came like a relief you didn’t realize you were waiting for.

chairs pushed back, the room filled with noise again, and people started packing up faster than the teacher could even finish speaking.

you moved a little slower, slipping your notebook into your bag while everyone else rushed out.

moka waited for you by the door, rocking back on her heels.

the hallway was crowded, loud with students spilling out of classrooms, lockers slamming shut, voices overlapping everywhere.

you kept your gaze forward, letting moka talk beside you about something random—someone’s drama, a test she barely studied for, a teacher she didn’t like.

you responded here and there, but your answers were short, half there.

at one point, minju passed by with a few friends and moka's sentence immediately cut off.

you watched her eyes follow minju for a second before she quickly looked away.

“you are so obvious,” you said.

“i literally didn't do anything.”

“right.”

“i didn't!”

by the time you reached the school gates, the air outside felt slightly better.

you slowed down without realizing it as you began to focus on what moka had to say.

“come on, y/n!” moka whined, dramatically tugging on your arm as the two of you walked out of school. “it’s been forever, and we’re always hanging out at my place. i wanna go to yours for once too.”

you let out a quiet sigh, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“maybe another time.”

“that’s what you said last time,” she pouted, narrowing her eyes at you suspiciously. “and the time before that. are you secretly hiding something in your house or something?”

if only she knew.

your grip tightened slightly around your bag. “it’s just messy.”

“messy?” moka scoffed. “y/n, my room literally looks like a tornado hit it every other day. i don’t care.”

you forced out a small laugh, but it sounded weak even to your own ears.

moka slowed her steps, her expression softening almost immediately. “hey,” she said quietly, nudging your shoulder. “you know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?”

the words made something uncomfortable twist in your chest.

because something was wrong.

something had been wrong for years now.

but no matter how many times moka asked, you could never bring yourself to say it out loud. admitting it would make everything feel too real.

so instead, you smiled. "nothing’s wrong,” you lied.

moka stared at you for a moment longer before sighing dramatically again. “fineee. but one day i’m showing up at your house uninvited.”

your heart nearly stops. "don't do that," you give her a playful smile to cover up the anxiousness that filled your heart.

"there’s a convenience store near your house, right? we can just go there.” she suggests.

you paused for a second. “…okay,” you said quietly.

moka immediately lit up and the two of you started walking. her chatter filling the space as she talked about random things you barely registered. your steps slowed slightly the closer you got to your neighborhood, that familiar weight settling in your chest again.

same streets. same air. same feeling you always tried to escape after school.

moka, however, didn’t notice. she was too busy skipping ahead a few steps, pointing at random things like she always did.

inside the convenience store, everything felt almost normal again.

the soft buzz of the fridge, the quiet beeping at the register, the crinkle of snack bags as you and moka wandered the aisles like you had all the time in the world.

moka had already claimed half the store in her arms again. “this is for later,” she said, dropping a pack of chips into her basket. “and this is for now. and this is just… because i feel like it.”

you shook your head slightly, picking out a drink and tossing it into your own hand-held basket. for a moment, it almost felt easy.

then the door slammed open, the bell above it rang too loudly.

you both paused.

a man stumbled inside, slightly off balance, holding onto the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping him upright. his breath was heavy, his eyes unfocused, and he walked straight to the alcohol section without even looking around.

he grabbed a few cans of beer then stopped at the counter.

the cashier greeted him politely, but the man didn’t respond properly. he just stared for a second too long, like he was trying to understand something that wasn’t making sense.

and then his voice suddenly snapped through the store.

“why are you charging me this much? are you trying to rob me or something?”

you stiffened a bit.

the cashier blinked, clearly startled. “sir, that’s the price—”

“don’t lie to me,” the man barked, slamming the cans down harder than necessary. “you think i don’t know what you people do?”

the entire store felt like it had gone quiet.

a few customers glanced over. someone near the entrance stepped back. moka slowly lowered her basket.

you weren’t looking at the cashier anymore.

you were looking at the man.

and something in your chest tightened, cold and familiar, before you could stop it. the moment you realized who it was, everything in your body went still.

the voice. the posture.

no.

no, no, no.

your basket slipped slightly in your hand.

“y/n?” moka whispered, noticing your sudden change. “hey… what’s wrong?”

you couldn’t answer, your throat felt tight like something had wrapped around it and pulled.

your dad’s voice cut through the store again, louder now, more unsteady.

“what are you staring at?”

he turned and his eyes landed on you.

for a split second, there was nothing there. no recognition, just confusion. then it hit him.

“oh,” he said, voice sharpening instantly. “so you’re here.”

moka frowned, looking between you and him. “wait… you know him?”

you still couldn’t speak.

your dad stepped away from the counter, unsteady but suddenly focused on you in a way that made your skin crawl.

“don’t look at me like that,” he snapped, pointing vaguely. “why are you even out? what, you think you can just—”

his voice rose, drawing attention again.

you took a small step back without realizing it.

your breathing was wrong now. too fast. too shallow. like your body didn’t know how to stay inside itself properly.

moka grabbed your arm, panicked. “y/n, hey—hey, look at me.”

his face twisted as he noticed your reaction.

“oh, don’t start with that,” he barked suddenly, louder. “don’t do that, you guilt tripping bitch.”

his words blurred together after that.

all you could feel was the noise. the store. the breathing. the weight of being seen like this. and moka, beside you, suddenly very, very unsure of what she was watching.

your dad’s eyes stayed on you, unfocused and unsteady, like he was seeing you through something warped.

“stop standing there like that,” he snapped suddenly. “you always do this. you always show up at the worst times and make everything—”

he cut himself off, jaw tightening as he dragged a hand down his face.

“you don’t get it,” he muttered, voice rough, fraying at the edges. “the way you look at me.. it's just like her.”

your chest tightened.

he pointed vaguely in your direction, not even fully steady on his feet.

“i wish i never had you.” he said sharply.

it wasn’t a big sentence but it landed like one.

something in you cracked open, too loud in your head. your vision blurred before you could stop it.

moka said your name again, more urgent this time, but it barely reached you. you took a step back before you ran out of the store. vision blurred which completely blind sighted you.

it didn’t matter, you kept moving anyway.

the park had gone quiet by the time midnight rolled in, leaving only the distant hum of cars and the soft rustle of trees moving in the cold air.

you had stayed there for hours without really meaning to, just sitting through the weight of your thoughts until everything blurred.

eventually, your legs carried you home on their own. the closer you got, the heavier everything felt, the familiar streets and dim streetlights doing nothing to ease the tight feeling in your chest.

when you finally reached your building, you paused in front of the door longer than you should have. for a moment, you just stood there, staring at it, as if waiting for something to change if you delayed it long enough.

but nothing did, so you went inside.

the smell hit you the second you stepped in.

stale alcohol, thick and sour, already filling the air like it had nowhere else to go. it clung to everything instantlu, slipping into your lungs before you even had time to brace yourself for it.

then, slowly, you stepped in and let the door close behind you.

you paused in the doorway for a moment, eyes instinctively moving to the living room, expecting to see your dad like usual—slumped on the couch, tv on, bottle in hand.

but the couch was empty, no tv, no movement, no sign of him at all.

your chest tightened slightly as you stepped inside, realizing pretty quickly what that meant. he wasn’t home. he had gone out again.

you did enjoy these moments when he was out, when the apartment didn’t feel as suffocating and you could move around freely without the fear of running into him.

you made your way to your room, closing the door behind you a little too softly, like even sound felt dangerous tonight.

once you were inside, you sat on the edge of your bed and finally reached for your phone. the screen lit up immediately, a few notifications already waiting for you.

there were multiple messages, all sent not long after you ran out of the store.

where are you?? please answer me im so sorry about him, i didnt know your dad was like that are you okay??

you stared at moka’s messages for a moment longer, your thumb hovering before you finally typed back.

im okay

you didn’t wait for a reply.

instead, you locked your phone and set it aside, like that alone could shut the world out for a while. then you got up and headed to the bathroom, moving on autopilot.

the shower helped a little, but not enough to really fix anything. just enough to blur your thoughts at the edges, to make the day feel slightly farther away than it was before.

when you were done, you changed into something comfortable—an oversized shirt that swallowed your frame, soft shorts, and a pair of socks that made your steps quieter against the floor.

you didn’t feel better.

but at least you felt a little less like you were holding everything together.

you eventually made your way downstairs, more out of habit than hunger, opening the fridge and staring at it for a moment before grabbing whatever was easiest to make.

a classic nutella sandwich.

the quiet of the apartment helped a little while you moved around the kitchen, focused on the small task in front of you.

suddenly, you hear from the front door a soft click, followed by it opening.

your hands froze mid-motion.

for a second you didn’t even breathe, just standing there as the sound of footsteps reached the entryway.

your mind immediately filled in the worst possibility.

him.

without thinking, you crouched down quickly and slid under the kitchen counter, pulling your legs in close and pressing yourself into the small space as quietly as you could.

your heart was already racing.

a heavier sound, like someone struggling slightly with weight, something being shifted carefully rather than dropped or thrown. the kind of sound that made your stomach tighten all over again because it didn’t fit the scenario your brain had already prepared for.

you hesitantly shifted just enough to peek out from your hiding spot.

what you saw made you freeze completely.

a man you didn’t recognize was inside your apartment, steadying your dad’s unconscious body with a firm grip as he guided him toward the couch. your dad looked completely out of it, barely supported, his weight slumped against the stranger’s shoulder.

the man set him down carefully, adjusting his position so he wouldn’t fall off, before straightening up and finally glancing around the room.

that was when you really saw him properly.

he was really good-looking. like genuinely breath taking. sharp jawline, straight nose that gave his face a clean, structured look.

holy shit.

you slowly rose from under the counter, the man hadn’t noticed you yet, his attention still on your dad as he adjusted him slightly on the couch, making sure he was stable.

carefully, you stepped out into the open, each movement slow and hesitant. only when your footsteps lightly brushed against the floor did he pause.

he turned.

his eyes landed on you, and for a brief second his expression shifted—subtle surprise flickering across his face, like he genuinely hadn’t expected anyone else to be there.

his gaze stayed on you for a moment longer before he spoke, voice calm but curious.

“oh? i didn't know he had a daughter.”

of course that fucker wouldn’t have told anyone about you.

you stepped a little closer, your eyes drifting past the stranger to where your father now lay on the couch, completely out of it. the sight made something in your stomach twist. slumped, unresponsive, the reality of it settling in all over again in a way you didn’t want to look at for too long.

you forced your gaze away.

the man noticed the shift in your expression almost immediately. without saying anything else, he turned and started walking toward the kitchen. a silent cue to go with him.

after a brief hesitation, you followed him.

the apartment felt quieter the farther you moved from the living room, like the tension there stayed behind with your father. the kitchen light was softer, warmer somehow, and he leaned slightly against the counter as he waited, glancing at you once you stepped in behind him.

“sorry, should’ve introduced myself,” he said, glancing at you properly. “i’m sunghoon.”

you noticed the way his eyes lingered on your face for a moment, like he was quietly trying to place you in the picture he already had in his head.

“i’m y/n,” you said softly, your voice coming out smaller than you intended.

there was a brief pause after that.

you found yourself looking back at him properly too, the thick brows that gave him a naturally composed look. the moles on his face, one sitting close to the bridge of his nose, another a little lower on his cheek.

he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, rolling it between his fingers for a second before lighting it. the small spark briefly lit his face, then faded as he took a slow drag, his eyes still resting on you like he hadn’t missed a single thing you’d said or done.

the silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy in a way you couldn’t quite name.

“sorry about your dad,” he said after a moment, exhaling faintly to the side so the smoke didn’t drift toward you. his tone stayed calm, almost matter-of-fact, but there was something softer underneath it. “i know he’s… not easy to deal with.”

you weren’t sure what to say to that.

“it’s okay… i’m used to it,” you said quietly, lowering your gaze to the floor instead of looking at him.

sunghoon watched you for a moment, his cigarette still between his fingers as he took another slow drag. there was a slight smirk at the corner of his mouth, not mocking, just faintly amused in a way that made him look even more unreadable.

“we were out having drinks and he passed out like usual,” he said casually, exhaling smoke to the side. his eyes never really left you. “normally i wouldn’t see anyone home. this is the first time i’ve seen you.”

his tone made it sound simple, like he was just stating a fact, but the way he looked at you suggested he was taking in more than just the situation. the way his eyes roamed from your face, down to your chest and legs.

was he checking you out?

he tilted his head slightly, cigarette still between his fingers as he held it out a little in your direction, like it was an offer that didn’t require much thought.

“want one?”

your eyes dropped to it for a second before flicking back up to him, “actually, are you even old enough to?” he asked, tone flat but with a hint of amusement under it.

you scoffed under your breath, the smallest bit of defiance slipping through. “i’m 18. of course i can.”

then your gaze dropped again, voice quieter this time.

“i’ve done it before...”

sunghoon didn’t say anything right away.

he studied you for a moment longer, like he was weighing your words instead of just hearing them. then, without much ceremony, he pulled another cigarette from the pack and offered it anyway.

“then take one, little girl,” he said simply.

your heart skips a beat at the nickname. cheeks flushing before you hesitantly grabbed it.

a lighter flicked between his fingers a second later, and soon enough the quiet of your kitchen was filled with that faint, drifting smoke curling into the air between you.

the kitchen stayed quiet, only the faint hum of the fridge and the slow burn of the cigarette filling the space between you.

sunghoon leaned against the counter like he had nowhere else to be, eyes drifting over you for a moment before settling again. not intense, but observant in a way that made it hard to ignore.

you shifted slightly under his gaze, unsure what to say or do with the silence.

a small exhale left him, almost like a quiet laugh.

“not much of a talker, are we?” he said, voice low and calm, like he was commenting on the weather rather than you.

your eyes flicked up to him briefly before dropping again. “i just don’t know what to say.”

that seemed to amuse him a little more. he took another slow drag, watching you through the smoke as if he was figuring you out.

sunghoon’s gaze drifted away from you, slowly scanning the room like he was taking it in properly for the first time instead of just standing in it.

that’s when he stopped and his eyes settled on the wall behind you.

there was an old framed photo hanging slightly off-center, like it had been put there a long time ago and never adjusted since.

you followed his gaze.

it was a picture from years ago, before everything changed. you were thirteen, caught in a moment you barely felt like belonged to you anymore. smiling too brightly, arms wrapped around your mom and dad in a way that looked so easy, so normal, it almost didn’t feel real now.

sunghoon didn’t say anything right away. his expression shifted slightly, something unreadable passing through his eyes as he looked at it longer than expected.

then he glanced back at you, like he was comparing the photo to the person standing in front of him now.

“you look so happy in that,” he said after a pause.

your throat tightened immediately.

“i was,” you said, then quickly added, softer, “i guess.”

the words hung in the air longer than you meant them to. sunghoon’s expression shifted slightly, something quieter settling in his eyes as he looked at you instead of the photo now.

“he's been like this since your mom died?” he asked. “that man always complains and goes on and on about his dead wife, especially moments before he passes out.”

you chuckled lightly, the words hitting a little too close. “yeah,” you managed.

sunghoon glanced back at the photo “he must've loved her a lot.”

the smile on your face faltered.

“i guess.”

a quiet silence settled between you. your fingers tightened slightly at your sides.

“sometimes i think he forgets he still has someone here.”

the words left his mouth so casually that he probably didn't realize what he'd just said. but you felt them.

all at once.

because he was right.

your father talked about your mother constantly. missed your mother constantly. drank because of your mother constantly.

and somewhere along the way, you'd stopped being his daughter and started becoming just another thing in the house.

you let out a shaky breath, looking down because you couldn’t really look at either him or the photo anymore.

you couldn't even give a response back and that alone was enough to make your chest feel worse.

then sunghoon moved closer. he put down the cigarette before his hand lifted slightly, hesitating for a second like he was deciding whether or not to cross that line, before gently resting on your shoulder and pulling you in.

safe in a way you weren’t used to.

you didn’t even realize you were crying until your face pressed into his shoulder, the tears coming out quieter at first before you couldn’t hold them back anymore.

sunghoon didn’t say anything at first. he just stayed there, one hand lightly at your back, the other at the back of your waist, rubbing a small circle with his thumb.

“i'm sorry baby,” he said eventually, low and close enough that only you could hear it.

his words suddenly crash all over you. reminding you of the times of when your father would comfort you like this in his arms.

he exhales once, small, like he’s pulling himself back.

“it must be hard,” he says. you nod faintly, but don’t move away.

you cried pathetically into his shoulder as he embraced you even tighter, before pulling his head back.

“how about we go to your room?” he said quietly. “we wouldn’t want your father waking up and seeing you like this.”

you blinked, still trying to steady your breathing, and gave a slow nod.

sunghoon knows he shouldn't.

especially not with one of his friends daughter.

he knows he shouldn't be doing this, yet he can't help but continue placing small hickeys across your neck, spreading them down till your collarbone.

youre resting on top of his lap, hands cramped up against his chest as you nervously grasp onto his shirt, feeling confused how you even ended up here.

"i- i don't know if we should be d-doing this..." your voice shakes as he licks over one of the many spots he marked on you.

he chuckles at your words, "shh.. baby, let daddy take care of you alright?"

his hands grip firmly at your waist before he goes back in for another kiss. it's gentle and slow, almost like as if he's savouring the taste of your lips.

you try matching back the rhythm and movement of his lips, but fail miserably as you accidentally bite too hard on your own tongue. you wince lightly from the pain as sunghoon pulls back and smirks at you.

"poor bunny doesn't know how to kiss?" he smirks, almost mocking you for not knowing how to.

you bite your lip, attempting to hide the embarrassment spreading across your face. sunghoon notices and brings his thumb to your lip.

"don't worry my little girl, daddy'll teach you everything."

fuck, his words. the way he comforted you. the way he held you. why was it enough build up the wetness between your legs now?

before you can react, his mouth is on yours again. it's soft, slow and warm, "don't overthink it, just follow my lips," he mumbles against your mouth.

you start to follow the movement of his lips, your hands roaming towards the nape of his neck as he deepens the kiss. his mouth opens slightly as he slowly brings his tongue inside your mouth, meeting yours.

you quiver slightly, unsure of what to do but when sunghoon slides his tongue against yours, your tongue is able to naturally follow his. the kiss had gotten so heated, so wet and sloppy.

as the kiss continued, you felt his growing erection form harder beneath you. in the desperate state you were in, your body instinctively grinded forward on its own, earning a groan from sunghoon.

sunghoon pulls back from the kiss and looks at you. your eyes were hazy, almost like as if you were hallucinated from the kiss.

"keep doing that f'me, you wanna feel good yeah?" you nod your head at his words.

at his orders you continue to grind your clothed core against the large bulge in his pants. your whimper at the friction as you hold onto his arms to balance yourself.

"fuck.. you're doing so well for me," he groans at the pleasure.

his hand suddenly comes to grip your jaw, forcing your mouth open. "stick out your tongue," you're confused but you do as he says, slowly sticking it out. he spits in your mouth, letting it slowly drip until it reaches your tongue.

sunghoon smirks at the sigh infront of him, you with your tongue out thats all covered in his spit, "swallow it all f'me, get a good taste."

without hesitation, you swallow. sunghoon nods his head in approval before his hips continue to move against yours again. his pace is faster now as youre both desperately grinding against each other for release.

"f-fuck.. feels so good.." you moan out as you grip his arms even tighter now.

suddenly, sunghoon grips your shoulders and pushes you back down onto the bed, hovering on top of you. "you look so pretty baby," he leaves a peck to your lips before slowly trailing down from your jaw to your neck, "have you ever done anything like this before?"

when you shake your head, sunghoon gives you a sly smile. "my bunny is still a virgin huh? how cute."

sunghoon doesn't waste time to lift your shirt up, exposing the cute pink bra you wore underneath. he brings his face closer to your clothed chest, placing a kiss right in the middle of your breasts.

he then lifts your bra up aswell, your breasts finally exposed as the cold air hits your skin. your nipples slightly harden at the sudden temperature drop.

sunghoon licks his lips before attaching his mouth to one your nipples, flicking his tongue over it. you gasp at the warmth of his mouth on your chest as you hold onto the bedsheets.

his hands trail from your shoulders down to your thighs, massaging them slowly before his hand makes its way over to your clothed core.

you're absolutely soaked through your shorts, sunghoon smirks at the feeling of your wetness before slowly rubbing your clit through the soaked fabric.

"fuck baby.. you're so wet, all this for me?" he coos at you as you nod your head while gasping at the pleasure his fingers are offering you.

sunghoon grabs onto the hem of your shorts, tugging them once before pulling them down along with your underwear, leaving you completely bare underneath him.

he curses under his breath at the sight of you. you're so undeniably innocent yet so sexy, he can't believe his friend was able to create someone like you.

your legs close together as you feel the embarrassment of being nude hit you. sunghoon notices and forces them apart again, "keep 'em open for me,"

sunghoon doesn't wait any longer before removing his clothing too. he first removes his shirt, revealing his slightly toned abs and biceps which he catches you staring at before smirking to himself.

his hands grip onto the sides of his pants before he pulls them down just below his boxers, his bulge being even more prominent now. his thumbs tug inside his boxers before he slides them down too just half way, revealing his thick cock which was already leaking precum.

your mouth dropped slightly. you were shocked or more should you say... scared? nervous? he was huge. even his tip seemed like it'd be painful enough for you.

sunghoon noticed the nervousness on your face and chuckled, "aw, is my little girl scared? 's okay, daddy's cock will make you feel reaaal good." he says before he leans down and places a kiss on your forehead.

your heart beats like crazy as the wetness continues to pool up underneath you. sunghoon's hands make way to your clit, rubbing it gently in circles.

you grind against his hand, desperate for more. sunghoon only continues to keep slowly rubbing your clit, not giving you the full attention your body craves.

“p-please…” you whispered, the word barely making it past the lump in your throat.

“please what?” he asked quietly.

"your f-fingers.. nghh.. please!" you cry out. sunghoon smirks at the way you beg for it.

"since my bunny's been so good, she deserves it." he whispers loud enough that you can hear it.

his fingers go down to your hole, which was already oozing out the slick and wetness that has been building up for the past 30 minutes since he's been in your room.

he slowly circles over your hole before pushing a finger in slowly. you let out a pleasured moan at the feeling, your body immediately feeling the heat of his fingers.

he starts thrusting his finger in and out slowly, the wetness coating his finger as you moan at the sensation. you continue to grind forward, still desperate for more.

"you know if you want more, you're gonna have to earn for it." he murmured before tapping his cock against your thigh, signaling for what you should do.

you look up at him nervously before looking down at his huge cock, the precum already leaking out. before your hand can fully reach out, sunghoon grabs your wrist with his free hand before spitting onto your palm.

with his spit all over your palm, you sit up slightly as your hand spreads the wetness of his saliva all over his cock before slowly rubbing his tip against the palm of your hand.

sunghoon hisses at the feeling, "fuck, keep doing that baby," he groans before adding a second finger into your cunt, earning a loud moan from you.

and before you both know it, you're both now like two animals in heat desperate to get each other off. you stroke sunghoon's cock at a medium pace, taking in whatever you can as sunghoon keeps fingering you at a faster speed.

"ngh.. shit if you keep doing that.. 'm gonna cum," sunghoon groans loudly.

you bite your lip as you continue to stroke his cock faster, a desperate attempt to match the speed in which he was fingering you at. he was relentless, abusing your little cunt like it didn't matter.

"feel's weird.. i think 'm gonna pee! s-sunghoon stop!" you whimper loudly, the heat in your stomach continuing to boil up. "then do it baby. do it all over me." he demands.

and with that, you cum. more like you squirt, all over him. your legs tremble as your orgasm hits you, your grip on sunghoons cock getting slightly loose but just enough for him to reach his climax and start shooting his cum all over your stomach.

"fuck.. was that your first time squirting bunny?" he questions, looking at the sight beneath him in awe before looking back up at you, seeing you nod your head in fluster.

gosh, you're really going to kill him.

he can't wait to ruin you.

without hesitation, sunghoon pushes you back down again, making you flat against your bed as he spreads open your legs again.

you look down and see that he's still hard. fuck, his sex drive is insane.

he grabs the base of his cock, positioning himself perfectly as he starts to slide his cock up and down your wet cunt, holding onto your thighs for support.

you let out a moan, your cunt still sensitive from your previous orgasm but the pleasure overtakes the sensitivity. he continues to grind against your cunt until he pulls back, slapping his cock against your clit.

"'s not gonna fit.. way too big.." you bite your lip in nervousness as sunghoon lets out a smug smile.

"shhh, daddy'll make it fit. just hold on f'me my little girl," he mumbles into your ear.

he slowly starts pushing the tip in, the pain immediately hitting you, "'s so painful.. daddy it hurts.." you whimper out in pain as your eyes begin to tear up, the nickname coming from your lips too naturally.

sunghoon could cum from your words just now, but it only encourages him to keep going as he continues to push himself in further, filling you up nice and slowly.

sunghoon leans down to kiss you as you whine against his lips, as he finally pushes himself all the way in, having you fully filled up with him now, "fuck, you're so tight. daddy's gonna fuck your little cunnie so good."

you squirm as he starts thrusting into your cunt, his cock ramming in and out you as the sound of your wet cunt and his sloppy thrusts echo throughout your room.

you're so sure that you're moaning loud enough that it could even wake up your dad, but you didn't even care anymore as the pain quickly turned into pleasure as sunghoon was balls deep in you.

"fuuuuck... so good, your pussy is clenching around me. you really love daddy's cock hm?" he almost mocks you but sees as you desperately nod your head.

"yes.. yes! fuck yes 'm loving daddy's cock so much! want m-more!" you whine loudly, drool spilling out of your lips as pleasure overtakes you.

sunghoon continues to quicken his pace, ramming his cock in and out you so deeply as he brings his hand to your stomach and presses down. you could've sworn you almost saw stars at that.

"d-daddy fuck..! nghh... 'm gonna cum.." you whimper.

sunghoon bites your earlobe, "mm, cum for daddy. let it all out," he whispers into your ear.

and with that, you come undone. you grip onto the bedsheets tightly and your legs shake violently as you cum all over his cock, your vision turning white for a few seconds as the orgasm hits you hard.

sunghoon chuckles at how hard you came, slowing down his thrusts to let you ride out your orgasm. your grip slowly loosens on your bedsheets as your breathing starts to slow down and become more calm.

suddenly, sunghoon starts to continue his relentless thrusting,"i still haven't came yet, gonna abuse and use up your lil cunnie." he groans as he quickens up his pace.

the dirty wet sounds of your intimate areas meeting each other fill up the room. one of his hands hold onto your hip as the other goes up to your breast, grabbing and squeezing it as he watches the way they bounce with each thrust.

sunghoon can finally feel the heat in his stomach brew up, "shit, 'm gonna cum inside this pussy," he groans before he quickly grabs his phone and starts to record.

his angles it just right to show how his cock thrusts into you just right while also showing how perfectly your breasts bounce with your mouth open from the pleasure.

sunghoon groans loudly as his orgasm hits him, his cum immediately filling you up. gosh you feel so thick and filled. sunghoon brings down the camera, showing a close up of his cock inside you before pulling out.

as he pulls out, he records how his cum mixed with your wetness oozes out of your hole. he smirks at the sight, bringing the camera up to show the cum over your stomach and then your dazed face as you breathe heavily.

he grabs your face making you look at the camera, "who does this little cunt belong to?" he demands an answer, placing a gentle slap to your clit as you let out a yelp before answering, "y-yours!"

he smirks before rubbing your thigh to soothe out the pain, "yeah? you belong to daddy now. i'll treat you so good, my little girl."

he ends the video before putting his phone back into his pocket. he falls onto the side next to you, wrapping his arms around you as he rubs your back gently.

your face stayed buried against his chest, his presence warm and grounding in a way you didn’t realize you needed until now.

“you did so well my bunny,” he murmured softly after a moment. “i’m so proud of you.”

his voice was quiet, almost like he didn’t want to break the moment. you held onto him a little tighter at his words, your breath uneven.

“don’t leave me… please,” you said, barely above a whisper.

he went still for a second, then shifted just enough to look down at you.

his hand came up to gently hold your cheek, thumb brushing lightly as he steadied you.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he said softly.

and after a pause, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, a silent reassurance.

you stayed there for a moment longer, holding onto him like you were afraid the feeling might disappear if you let go too soon.

jake: dude shes fucking gorgeous jay: holy shit, there's no way thats his daughter. im so jealous. heeseung: I wanna use her up too. Not fair Sunghoon.

sunghoon smirks at his friends messages. of course he had to send it to the groupchat (which obviously did not include your dad).

the video of which his cum dripped out of your pussy and where you said that you belonged to sunghoon was enough to drive him and all of his friends crazy (and get all of them hard).

sunghoon: she's totally innocent too, her pussy was so tight. jay: sounds like heaven. jake: this isnt fair howd you find this angel wtf?? heeseung: Lets pass her around, she'd probably enjoy that. jay: we can tell. jake: shes definitely secretly a slut who likes older men. jake: cmon hoon.

sunghoon chuckles at his phone.

sunghoon: maybe.

@evanificais do not steal or recreate.

authors note: hii :3 first ever fic, hope y'all enjoy. not proofread cus i physically cannot read my own work but i hope theres not too many mistakes. if i missed any warnings pls lmk!

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