warnings: stepcest, alcohol, jealousy, manipulation, kinda stalking, dubcon, infidelity, light violence, yunho is crazy, mingi isn’t, smut; fat cock subby mingi, long dick dommy yunho, hand/blowjob, nip stim, fingering, pussy eating, overstimulation, some pain, un/protected sex, taking the condom off.

“YOU SERIOUSLY WON’T VISIT?” 

you huff in annoyance, kicking through the pile of clothes on his floor in search of your own. your phone vibrates where it’s tucked under your arm, your father making it a point to keep calling without a second to spare in between until you answer. soobin can see this happening from his bed, knows the rush you’re in from your father honking the horn outside, and has still decided to beat the dead horse a little more for good measure. or maybe just to push your buttons, as he so often enjoys to. 

“no. i’m done with this shithole for good.” you grumble, tugging your panties up your legs. “wanna ask me one more time before i go?” 

your phone settles, then begins to buzz right where it left off. at least all your stuff is already packed for the move — you wouldn’t be surprised if soobin scattered your clothes around his room while you weren’t looking, just to delay you from leaving as long as he could. 

he hasn’t quite accepted the fact that leaving this town behind includes him, too. then again, in all the years living here, you haven’t been able to peel him off from your side — not for any longer than a few months before he was begging you to take him back. 

soobin’s been a good consistency, as far as things go. you’ve never quite made your bed in this place though. sure, you graduated high school, made what friends you could, tolerated a dead-end job. but you could never quite shake the feeling that it was all just for.. biding time. waiting, for any divine intervention; that someday your life would find its way back to how it was. back to your home. 

it’s why you never even bothered with furthering your education here. there’s only one college you’ve ever had intentions of enrolling in, and they’ll be seeing you in the fall once you’re all settled back into the city. 

ever since your dad admitted to being back in contact with your stepmother, you knew it was only a matter of time. ‘just as friends’ he’d said, like every ex ever before taking another shot at being together. like soobin when you tell him you’re not emotionally available at the moment.

he’s a good guy, soobin. just not your forever guy. you only kept him around so long because his presence reminds you of home.. for whatever reason. you never quite figured that one out. 

fully dressed and texting your father a passive aggressive ‘On my way!’, you finally glance at the boy fidgeting on the bed. at your attention, soobin stands and engulfs you in a hug.

you think you catch a sniffle into your shoulder, and you pat his broad back. it’s the last time he’ll ever be comforted by you. 

“miss you already.” he murmurs into your neck, placing a timid kiss on the skin before you pull him away by the scruff of his hair. so much for breaking up with him a whole month in advance before the move…

you regard him with a bittersweet look. “i can’t promise that i’ll stay in touch.” 

he already knows this, as he knows that you never really fell for him the way he did you. you left your heart in your hometown. 

soobin squeezes you again, while he still can. “nothing i’m not used to.” 

that gets you to laugh. your phone vibrates restlessly once more, and you pull away, knowing you’ve overstayed far too long. you give soobin one last, fond glance before shutting the door on your way out — meeting your father parked out front with the window down, scolding you. 

you just roll your eyes. you don’t want to stay in this town for any longer than he does. 

you doze off in the passenger seat as you watch the scenery go by — town buildings blending into country hills. the trees change in colour, the breeze shifts in smell. there’s a smile carved onto your face, knowing that the worst is finally over. 

──

your stepmother pounces on your father as the front door opens. for a brief second there, you were worried that this was all a ruse so she could beat his ass (he’d deserve it). it’s just a very rough hug though, into an even rougher kiss that has you groaning as you turn away. 

“seriously..” you grumble, legs aching too much from the cramped car trip for you to deal with this right now. 

you stepmother coos, turning her affections to you as she brings you in for a firm hug. “it’s good to see you again too, baby.” 

you squirm over the nickname, feeling even more like a kid as she smacks her lips on your cheek and fusses over you — your hair, your clothes, how your body’s grown into a real lady. even after years apart, a good chunk of that without contact, you’re still her baby. 

she turns back to your father, asking something or rather about the drive, and there’s this strange twist in your chest. it’s startling, seeing them interact casually like this again. the last time you were here she was throwing a box of his belongings on the front porch, screaming that she never wanted to see him again.

forgiveness is a virtue — a generous one considering what he did, then dragging his daughter into small town purgatory with him. what matters now is that he’s been forgiven. you can only hope he doesn’t forget what for and fuck the whole family up for a second time. once is enough, you think, and twice is a girl group. 

what sounds like a stampede coming from inside the house has your head snapping up — and in an instant you lock eyes with your stepbrother as he flies down the stairs. you nearly fall backwards as yunho leaps to reach you, his long arms catching you as they swallow you into a hug. 

he cries out your name, holding you to his chest with a big, helpless smile. 

“yunho.” you sigh in relief, breathing him in and hugging him back even tighter. 

you squeal as your feet are lifted from the porch, yunho picking you up and spinning you around. “baby’s home!” 

you both keel over with laughter as he puts you back down, feeling like a weight is physically being lifted off your shoulders now that you’re reunited. life just hasn’t felt right since you had to leave him in this city. 

yunho squeezes you a few more times for good measure. lithe fingers cradle your face as he pulls away, height looming over you even as he bends to be closer to face level — and there’s a silent moment where he just smiles at you, pupils dilated with pure bliss. you can’t help but smile back. he’s grown so much, and yet hasn’t changed at all. still the handsome yet nerdy boy that was glued to your side throughout your youth. 

“i missed you.” he sighs, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek — dusted a faint pink from how breathless you are after being lifted and spun in circles. 

you giggle, feeling like a giddy kid just being in his presence again. his happiness has always been contagious. “you too.” 

your stepmother swoons over seeing you both still acting so close, like nothing ever pulled you apart. yunho takes the bag from your shoulder, then gives your father a side hug before asking for the car keys, insisting he’d carry your stuff to your room. as you race each other down the front steps, you just overhear your stepmother mutter something to your father — something about yunho changing. 

you don’t dwell on it as the boy in question runs around you like a dog with the zoomies, teasing you all the way into the house, laughter on your tails as you ascend the stairs. 

while your father’s belongings had been uprooted from the house until there was no trace of him left, your bedroom was mostly kept intact. it felt wrong, yunho said, when you had nothing to do with the whole debacle. you cringe, knowing your early teen years are preserved there. a small part of you feels a pang of guilt — there was always a place for you here, if you ever came back.

it’s such a massive comfort, how easily you and yunho fall back into rhythm. when your father first broke the news that you’d be moving back in with them at the city, you felt scared. you’d have to confront the fact that after all these years, you hadn’t reached out to your own brother. god if you hadn’t considered it, tiring yourself out thinking of every possible way it could go wrong. 

you did your best to make peace with the fact that you really had no right. it was your father who ruined everything, and you let him take you with him when he left. making that first contact was just beyond you. 

you can already feel yourself healing, years worth of rumination and doubt lifting from your shoulders as yunho helps you unpack your boxes. his phone in the corner playing soft music as a backdrop to your chatter and banter. you almost feel jittery with the excitement of actually being home, of having your family back — and you can tell yunho’s even worse off than you are.

he doesn’t despise you for the years of silence. in fact, yunho even admitted that he too was reluctant to reach out. unsure if you wanted nothing to do with him, if you’d rather not face those painful memories. you’re just two people with a lot of love for each other, afraid to risk hurting one another.

now, your face hurts from smiling, stomach hurts from laughing — right until it cuts through your voices with a grumble. you don’t even get to protest before yunho’s tugging you out of the room, swinging his car keys around a finger as he insists that lunch is on him. 

“so, do i get to know where you’re kidnapping me to?” you ask once you’re buckled into the passenger seat, yunho turning the keys in the ignition. 

he chuckles, reaching an arm around the back of your seat. you sort of freeze, and his lip quirks at you before he’s looking over his shoulder, reversing out of the driveway. 

“cafe fossoway,” he replies, hand lingering over the backrest before he retracts it, resting it on his thigh. you gulp, getting a hold of yourself. “they’ve got this apple pie that i think you’d like.” 

you roll your eyes at the corniest callback ever. as a kid, your blushy, full cheeks would often get compared to two lady pink apples. there’s also the fact that you’d absolutely demolish an apple pie when your stepmother would make it at home with her very own recipe. 

yunho’s smile deepens when he notices the clash of confusion and annoyance in your face. you can’t help but smile too, passing over the urge to make fun of him for holding onto such an old memory. for years, those memories were all he had to keep you close. 

“i’ve been meaning to ask,” you start, and he hums to show he’s listening. “are you still friends with mingi?” 

“yes.” he says. succinct. 

before you can even think further on the topic — about how curt his reply was about his own childhood best friend — yunho’s quick to change it. and without realising it, the conversation steers back into being solely all about you. 

“you keeping in touch with any of them?” yunho asks, after you admitted that you kept uneventful friendships back at the town. kept being too strong of a word, really. you never made an effort to put yourself out there. you didn’t care to when you felt more like a squatter instead of a permanent resident. 

“nope. before i left, i made it clear that i wanted to cut ties with the place for good.” you frown. “there’s nothing there for me. never was.” 

yunho hums. 

“what about soobin?” 

your neck cracks as you whip it to him, eyes blown wide from the shock. 

“what?” is all you can say, wondering how the hell he even knows that name. 

yunho’s face drops a fraction, as does his composure. it feels like you’ve just caught him slip up and you both know it. it’s not lost on you, how he grips the wheel tighter. 

“eomma would show me your father’s facebook posts.” he says, then gives you such a calm glance that you question if you overreacted. “he’s your boyfriend, right?” 

you sigh. where to start?.. then, you shrug. not worth it. 

“it doesn’t matter anymore.” you mumble. eager to talk about literally anything else, you narrow your eyes at him. “what about you?” 

he huffs, playing along. “what about me?”

“no girlfriends?” you smirk, “boyfriends?” 

yunho just laughs it off. “no, no. my studies have been the top priority.” 

you nod, taking note of how he skirted around actually denying it — and how your stomach drops a little over the thought of him dating but not telling you. you reason that he might still feel awkward, you’re only hanging out after years of no contact after all. a small (large) part of you just hopes that he’d be honest with you, regardless of how ‘close’ you currently feel. 

silence falls between you, for the first time since you got back into the city hours ago. your eyes catch on yunho’s fingers, drumming on the wheel to the beat of the song playing through his car — and it’s when you notice that the music he put on is all nostalgic, released back in the years that you were still living with him. 

you almost snort over the realisation. he’s being so sappy. 

the car comes to a halt at a red light. yunho pulls the hand break up, taking the chance to glance at you. the moment lingers — his eyes raking over your body, really taking you in. your curious gaze meets his heavy one, and his expression softens with a smile. 

“you look different.” 

you raise a brow. “bad different?” 

“no,” he says in a low, husky drawl that sends an odd shiver up your back. “you look good, baby.” 

you squirm in your seat, trying to rid yourself of the unwelcome feeling under your skin. “i’ve grown out of being called that.” 

yunho makes an amused hum, missing the light change to green as he looks at you instead. “says who?” 

says me, you think. you hate how the nickname makes you feel — but only when it’s coming from him. your stepmother didn’t get this reaction out of you earlier. it’s just… it’s weird. it wasn’t always, but after all this time, it is. 

you don’t want to burst his bubble though, not when he’s grinning so brightly, chuckling to himself at your small pout. maybe it’s on you. 

maybe it’s because you’ve forgotten how to receive genuine love, not duck and weave or just stomp it out before it can spread. maybe it’s because you’ve spent years hopping from one guy to the next, that you can no longer comprehend an existence of emotional intimacy removed from the presence of desire. 

you’ve missed yunho more than you thought. 

you’re so deep in your own head that you hadn’t even realised the car had come to a complete stop — not until yunho’s reaching over your body, clicking to free your seatbelt. his own still buckled. 

“come on,” he grins. “i heard your stomach rumbling during california girls.” 

“shut up.” you roll your eyes, opening the passenger door — only for yunho to practically jump out of his own seat and step outside first, sprint round the front of the car, then shut your door. 

just to make a show of opening it for you, other arm stretched as he beckons you out. it works when he gets you to laugh, shoving at his shoulder as you get out. 

you enter the cafe first, yunho behind since he held that door open too. the employee looks at you for only a split second before her eyes flit over your shoulder — face lighting up as she spots yunho. must recognise him, you assume. 

that same face crumples as you both reach the counter, yunho looming at your back, and she realises that you came together. 

the employee — karina, her name tag reads — acknowledges you with a half-smile before turning her full attention back to yunho. 

“the usual?” she coos at your brother, and you so wish that your stomach would rumble on command so you could rudely interrupt her. 

“yeah. dine-in.” he replies absentmindedly, not even sparing her a glance as he leans his head over your shoulder, pointing to the menu. “tell her what you want, baby.” 

karina’s mouth twitches into a scowl, and there’s a surge of pride in your chest. you try not to sneer as you tell her your order, intentionally asking for the apple pie yunho recommended, knowing he’d give an excited reaction and pull the employee’s scowl even deeper. 

“alright. are you paying for your girlfriend too?” she drones, with a little bite in the word. 

you can only laugh, taken aback — but yunho’s voice never comes to correct her. you shoot him a confused glance, and yunho’s just.. staring at you. face scarily still, eyes burning with something you can’t recognise. 

“…uh, he’s my—”

“yeah.” yunho cuts off, pulling his phone from his pocket. “i’m paying.” 

you stay glaring at him as he taps the card machine, completely unbothered like that wasn’t awkward as fuck. 

karina disappears into the kitchen afterwards, leaving you both to find a table yourselves — and that’s when you slap yunho’s arm. 

“what the hell was that??” 

that same, satisfied grin finds its way to yunho’s face. the face of a man who regrets nothing. he just shrugs, and you’ve got half a mind to chew him out in this public place. it wouldn’t be half as embarrassing at whatever just happened with karina. 

yunho’s quick to distract you, taking your hand as he leads you to a corner booth. instead of sitting in the seat across the table, yunho chooses to slide in right next to you, shoulders bumping. 

the moment manages to pass by, no thanks to yunho, and you both fall back into your endless stream of conversation. it’s easy — comfortable. 

the girlfriend thing does creep back in and you cringe each time, but you try not to let it sour the mood. you reason that it must’ve just been a shitty attempt at teasing you on his part. you’re bound to butt heads like this when you spent the latter half of your formative years separated. 

people change. you tell yourself to loosen the fuck up and just enjoy this precious time with your brother. 

──

are you really settled in if you’re not getting shitfaced at a housewarming party? 

granted, this party was not thrown with the purpose to housewarm, nor is it even yours — but yunho had dragged you along all the same. said his classmate was throwing it, that it could help you feel welcomed back home.

after some quick greetings and dapping up between dudes at the front door, yunho had led you through the house — arms wrapped around you from the back, his chest gently nudging you through the crowd of tipsy bodies. 

you’re interrupted a few times on your journey to the kitchen, girls and guys alike calling out to yunho to catch up with him. he’s quite popular, your brother — and yet, not a single one of his friends knew he had a sister.

you’ve been the one to properly introduce yourself; you didn’t want to risk another karina situation. the guys’ eyes had widened in shock, while the girls’ frowns had lifted in relief. you know it must look confusing, with how he’s been protectively hugging you from behind. especially if yunho hadn’t so much as mentioned your existence to any of them over all those years — which, you’ve come to realise is the case.

you’re sober and bored, just standing here and spacing out while these strangers chat up your brother like old chums. in all your thoughts about his friends, your mind finds it way back to mingi — where he must be, what he’s up to. he might be the only one who knew of yunho’s sister, considering the fact you three did grow up together. 

which makes it all the more odd that yunho hasn’t even so much as said mingi’s name since you’ve been back. 

you make a mental note to pry the information out of him when you’re both tipsy. 

however, once you both finally reach the kitchen and yunho hands you a drink — you’ve gotten so impatient that you just chuck it back, wincing as the liquor burns your throat. yunho’s quick to fill it to the brim again, eyes sparkling at you. satisfied.

yunho finds you both a nice, cozy spot in a chiller corner of the house; away from the weed smoking in the garage and the drunk dancing in the living room. you’re sat on a couch as you watch some others play beer pong — giggling with each word yunho murmurs into your ear, your cup consistently full. 

you’re drunk enough that you’re leaning into him, seeking out the warmth of his body. you feel at home with his arms wrapped around you, fingers drawing shapes on the bare skin of your back. 

“do you know what a lick, sip, suck is?” yunho asks, lips pressed to your hair. you don’t even realise. 

you purr, playful. “in what context?”

“yeah, don’t tell me that.” he warns, pissed off you’d even suggest that to him, but your mind’s too hazy to catch it. yunho gives you a slice of lime (when did he get that?), holding a tequila bottle up in his other hand. “we’re doing shots.” 

you squeal, clapping excitedly as you sit up, pulling yourself off his body. you miss the way yunho readjusts the front of his pants, before he reaches for the stack of plastic shot cups on the coffee table. 

you chew on the lime absentmindedly as yunho pours two shots — one halfway, one to the top. he hands you the full one but you don’t mention it, just eager to feel the burn of tequila and more of the floaty bliss that follows. 

“hold your hand out,” he tells you, and you follow. you giggle in surprise when his tongue darts out, licking a stripe on your palm. he then goes over it with a salt shaker, the grains sticking to your skin. 

“yuyu’s turn.” you tease, grabbing his hand yourself and running your tongue over it. you laugh at the shock on his face — far too drunk to recognise the way his eyes burn into you, the way his pupils swallow all the light.

his adam’s apple bobs in a harsh gulp. “ready?”

you nod, interlinking arms with him. yunho shifts closer — or maybe he pulled you — his heavy breath tickling your lips. you don’t even think twice about the proximity, happy to just tilt your head back and pour the shot down your throat. you take it like a champ, smiling through the liquor’s sting while yunho winces. he turns away, reaching for his drink on the coffee table to chase this shitty tequila. 

while he’s wondering how drunk you must be to not even flinch, you can’t help but frown at how he left. you liked how close he was sitting, how you could count every freckle on his face. it made you feel comfortable and giddy and that’s all you want right now. you miss the warmth of his arms hugging you, pulling you in tighter whenever a guy would look at you too long. 

you want yunho back, so you grab him. he makes a surprised noise as you kind of fall forward into his chest, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. you like how good he smells, the way the cologne hits your brain with the alcohol and leaves it swimming. 

“you’re so cute.” he coos, pinching your cheek. you make a small whine and he rubs at your back, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “aw, baby. i’m here.”

your body really likes it when he calls you that. 

“yuyu,” you giggle, cheek pressed to his chest as you tilt your head up at him. even in your bleary state, the intensity he’s sending you with just the look on his face hits you square in the stomach. it churns and you know it’s not from the alcohol. (or, well, it wouldn’t help.)

“i need to go find a bathroom.” he tells you softly, and you pout at him.

“just pee your pants.”

he strokes your hair with a chuckle, so entirely endeared with you right now and how you’re clinging to him. yunho doesn’t care if he has the alcohol to thank. it’s like a dream come true. 

“i’ll try not to be long. stay here for me, yeah?” you nod, but that’s not good enough. his smile drops a fraction, tone serious. “don’t go anywhere without me.”

“okay..” you mope, and yunho basically pries you off his body. your fingers stay holding his shirt as he stands, and he pulls it off with a snicker, leaving a sweet peck on your hair. “be quick!!”

you watch yunho as he leaves the room, how people’s heads turn to stare and how they shift like they want to approach him. you know — he’s tall, he’s hot. you felt that same shock when you saw him run down the stairs this morning. but, you can’t help how your chest twists with.. something like jealousy. this sudden desire to make a point that he’s yours. what do they know about him? he’s your brother, he only wants to hug you and hang out with you alone. 

you slap your cheek a little when you start getting too ahead of yourself. you’re so gone that you didn’t even register the contact, so you give yourself a few more slaps for good measure. 

you just barely catch someone saying your name. you blink, the room spinning around you, until your vision comes into focus on a pair of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen. 

“long time no see.” the blonde one chuckles, bringing your sloshed ass in for a tight hug. you kind of just ragdoll in her arms, recognition slowly dawning as your train of thought lags severely behind from the present. 

“yuuuqi?” you slur out, face splitting into a grin so wide it hurts, whipping your head at the other. “minnie!”

“you wasted bitch.” minnie pulls you in for a hug too, your heart swelling at seeing them both again. 

briefly, you wish you were sober so you could appreciate this reunion properly, but you probably need the liquid courage right now. even if you’re acting a mess, at least you’re not conscious enough to remind yourself of how you thought your friendship died out from the distance and convinced yourself that they were better off if you ghosted them, or whatever bullshit…

“wanna go dance?” yuqi wiggles her brows at you, and you nod frantically. yunho nothing but a distant memory as you let them whisk you away from the couch and lead you through the hallways, thumping music growing louder. giggling and gaggling, swearing you need to catch up some time, asking where the hell you’ve been. you’re really happy and you don’t feel as alone as you did on that couch. 

you reach a room that’s not quite the dance central (living room), but it’s packed enough that you’ve all had to stop and step to the side for all the crossfaded people stumbling out from the garage, the scent of weed fuzzy in your senses. 

you catch the eye of one guy in particular — tall, dark-haired, and you’re instantly drawn in. his red eyes meet your dazed ones as he jumps to the music and tries to hype you up. he grabs your arm, attempting to pull you to him. you giggle, swaying your hips along, before yuqi pulls you back and chews the high asshole out. 

you don’t understand all the ruckus as surrounding people start turning their heads and hollering, wondering what the hell is happening. you just want to dance, and you want to drink some more. why have yuqi and minnie stopped here? 

someone’s saying your name again — only this time it’s deep. you sober up just a tiny bit from being startled, and then you sober up a bit more as that someone steps in front of you. towers over you.

mingi.

you’re so shocked that you can’t even react. it’s been an entire lifetime since you last saw mingi. you missed him so, so, so bad. 

“we found her really drunk downstairs,” minnie says from your right. 

yuqi rubs at your arm, which you can’t even feel. “we can stick around, y’know. help.”

“it’s alright,” mingi replies, brows drawn in concern as he looks at you with the prettiest boba eyes, saying your name gently. “you feel okay?”

“mingi..” you mumble out, your eyes suddenly welling up from how fucking overwhelming this feels. 

he shifts in panic as you’re one blink away from sobbing. you know he won’t reach for you out of reluctance, so you do it yourself as you fall onto him, weakly bringing your arms up in an attempt to hug. 

“i got you,” he whispers, carefully placing his hands on your shoulders. he can’t bring himself to hold you fully, not while you’re so.. gone. he mumbles something to yuqi and minnie, and by the time you bring your head back up, you don’t even realise that the girls left. in fact you forgot they brought you here in the first place. all you can think right now is mingi, mingi, mingi. 

“do you wanna go somewhere quiet?” he asks you, so gently that you want to cry all over again. he’s so sweet. you missed him. 

you nod, sobering up each second that mingi’s hands hold you. suddenly your throat feels too dry, your head aching. 

he gives you a soft smile, noticing your discomfort. “let’s get you some water, too.”

“water would be fucking amazing.”

mingi huffs a laugh, keeping an arm slung over your shoulder in case you start to stumble, leading you through the bodies cramping the room. “it’s good to see you again,” he calls you by your name, but you find yourself expecting ‘baby’ instead. the yunho effect, you guess.. 

where is yunho anyway?

that train of thought hightails as mingi carefully sits you down against a wall, his big hands swallowing your waist. you sink into the carpet, dazedly observing your surroundings as mingi walks off to find water, making an effort not to stray too far. there’s a few boys playing pool on the table in front of you, a couple surprisingly not making out where they’re sitting on bean bags in the corner. you briefly wonder how fucking big this house must be for all these different rooms. 

“here.” mingi gives you a bottle of water — which you only realise is a big and heavy 2 litre bottle when you nearly drop it from your hands. it looked normal sized when he was holding it.. “eomma told me that if you don’t want a hangover, you need to drink the same amount of water as you did alcohol.”

“i might piss myself.” you grumble, twisting the cap. 

mingi chuckles, a low gravelly sound that you really fucking like. “if you do, i’ll give you this to cover up.” he says, tugging at his hoodie. 

you don’t say anything in return as you sip from the bottle, conscious that you’d only be able to let out a pathetic sob. you’ve forgotten how it feels to receive this much effortless kindness from a person — from someone as dear to you as mingi. 

he apologises for the seating situation, mentioning that he wasn’t expecting the bean bags to be taken as he sits down right next to you: ass on the carpet, back to the wall. a polite amount of distance between your shoulders. it’s not as comfortable as the couch, but you do find comfort in the fact that mingi gave you space. not just smothering you with touches because you’re drunk and he can. 

safe to say, the fog’s starting to clear from your head. 

mingi doesn’t push or pry. he’d be well within his rights to, considering you basically dropped off the face of the earth. for a few solid minutes, you both sat there in silence as you sipped from the bottle, his eyes flicking over every so often to check on your progress. it’s you who speaks up first, and his whole face lights up at the sound of your voice — at how he can tell you’re there again. only somewhat, since you’re still drunk, but you’ve reached a good level of awareness now that you’re not chugging a consistently full cup of liquor. 

“did you ask the girls to find me?” you ask tentatively, trying to make it sound playful. you’re sure it’d be stupid and probably rude to ask how he’s doing and what he’s been up to. if you were a better friend, you would’ve made that effort to keep up with him while you were gone. 

mingi shakes his head. “honestly, no. i uh, already saw you when you came in.” 

your chest twists a little in guilt. how could you not have seen him? he’s not exactly easy to miss..

mingi notices how your face drops, and he goes on: “i wasn’t gonna come tonight, but,” he glances away, coy. “i found out you moved back.. was hoping i’d run into you.”

mingi doesn’t mention that your brother hid that fact from him. that when he noticed mingi actually ended up coming to the party, he intentionally shielded your line of sight with his body; then whisked you away downstairs so mingi wouldn’t know where to find you. when he saw you with the girls and not your brother, he knew he had to take possibly the only chance he was gonna get. 

thank god your father has a habit of oversharing on facebook. he can’t believe that’s how he found out you’re back — not through his own fucking best friend. it’s hardly surprising though. mingi can’t even feel disappointed anymore. he’s too used to this shit. 

all the anger leaves through his nostrils in a sigh as he looks to you — noticing your soft, almost shy smile over the bottle. your cheeks faintly dusted a baby pink, which mingi assumes is from the alcohol. it’s not. 

“can i ask how the town was?” he asks, very gently, and you know it’s because he doesn’t want to accidentally upset you. 

even if you’re mentally present enough to be thinking clearly, the amount of alcohol still warm in your system loosens your tongue — and you start to speak without a second thought. 

“honest answer? not great.” you swish the water around in the bottle. try to focus on that instead of your immense sadness. “i’ve never felt so alone in my life. i.. lost myself for a bit. doing what i could to cope.” doing who you could, really. 

mingi’s heart tears in half hearing that. wishing he could’ve just gone with you, left behind this city to stay by your side. it pumps a beat harder with anger too, just thinking of what the fuck your father was up to if he wasn’t the one being there for you. he’s quick to reel himself back in though — not his family, not his business. what would he know about how a father should act?

the boy next to you is silent, but it’s not in a judgemental way. rather: understanding. it’s why it all just comes tumbling out. 

“i fucked around a bit, to be honest. there was this one guy actually, soobin,” you hiccup, throat tight with a near sob just mentioning him. “we were on and off for ages. well, it was all me. i’d always leave him and he’d always wait for me to come back. we didn’t even have that much in common or get along well, he just..” he reminded me of someone. he looks so much like— “..made me really happy.”

“i’m glad you had someone, at least.” mingi replies, ignoring the pain in his chest at how he wished it was him. “how’s it been with yunho?” he asks, but he really doesn’t need to know. mingi’s certain that his asshole of a best friend is over the moon that you’re back in his death grip. you love your brother though, so; and he just wants to distract you from the pain you’re remembering. 

you nod quickly, hoping the tears in your lashes will dry up. “good. it’s been really good. i enrolled in his college so we’ll be going together in fall. he’s been helping me unpack, took me out for lunch at cafe fossil gay or whatever.”

there’s that pain in mingi’s chest again — jealousy — but he distracts his own body with a smile at your silliness. 

“funny story actually,” you say humourlessly, “the girl working there thought i was his girlfriend, and he didn’t even say anything! just let embarrass myself and then laughed it off after.” 

“yeah.. well, i’m not surprised.”

“what do you mean?”

something shifts in mingi’s expression. he looks like he’s picking his words carefully. “yunho didn’t tell you?”

“huh? oh so clearly he’s told me nothing. what is it?”

mingi sighs — you don’t know the half of it. his eyes trail off, staring at a stain on the carpet. his lips press into a firm line like he’s willing them to stay shut. he almost looks.. afraid to say the wrong thing. like he’ll get in trouble. 

you laugh, confused. “why do you look genuinely scared? c’mon, spill. did my brother get up to some crazy shit?” 

after your admission that you were sleeping around as a means of coping, mingi can’t help but think that yunho was doing something similar. it was a really dark time for both of them..

he doesn’t want to drop such a bombshell on you though; doesn’t want to be selfish and damage a relationship that’s so dear to you. not his family. so mingi does what he does best and shoves it down. down, down, all the way down so it won’t resurface until he’s lying in bed, unable to sleep. 

“look, i’ll say this: he’s not that same nerd you knew. he still is, in a way, but.. he’s well known with the girls. straight after you moved away actually, some of your friends were having a go at him.”

“what?! not yuqi and minnie..?” mingi nods, and you gasp so loud that a few heads turn. “those bitches!! they never said anything about that. oh my god, i said i would have brunch with them on the weekend..” 

“and you’re not mad at yunho?” mingi asks, though he’s not one to talk. he’s been mad at yunho for years but still hasn’t found the strength to just.. cut him off. 

“i don’t want to hear that shit from my brother.” you laugh it off — confused at the twist in your chest over the thought of yunho sleeping around while you were gone. you’re surprised he basically hid it but, then again, he only really seemed interested in talking about all things you. 

“don’t get me wrong: yunho never stopped talking about you. he really missed you.” mingi clarifies, leaving out the parts where yunho blamed him for the fact that you were gone. took his anger out on him with words he couldn’t forget if he tried.

you can sense this, how he’s picking and choosing from what he really wishes to say. “but..?” 

mingi exhales. he must be drunker than he thought, or maybe it just feels good to let it all out, because he answers honestly. 

“but i’m worried. that he’ll change. he took losing you really badly.. i don’t know if it’s for better or for worse that he has you again.” he turns his body to face you fully, and you shift closer. listening, encouraging. “i think he’s so crazy protective because—” mingi stops himself with a gulp. he almost told you something that you really should never have to know. “—he only ever had his mother growing up. then he gets a sister.. he’d do whatever it takes to protect that, y’know?” 

“that makes sense.” you say, feeling an odd pang in your heart for yunho. you know he loves you, but it’s confronting hearing it from an outside perspective. however, staring at mingi — noting how withdrawn his energy became since you started talking about this — that feeling slides into concern. “aren’t you still best friends? why do you sound so.. scared of him?” 

“things are different now.” mingi says with a faraway look in his eyes. “he’s different, when you’re around.” 

you both leave it at that. you don’t know if your heart can take any more revelations, and mingi doesn’t know if he can keep withholding the ones that matter from you. 

“you should crawl through my window one of these nights.” you suggest, and the smile mingi gives you has your face burning up all over again. 

it’s kind of ironic: mingi used to do that when you were kids, since yunho would insert himself into every hangout and sulk that he was being ‘left out’. now, you’re saying it as a comfort — that your friendship with mingi can exist again, just as it did before. 

“i could take you someplace far away?” mingi adds with a chuckle. yet another callback, to how you’d often sneak out as teens and explore the city together — much to the disapproval of your father (and much to the utter rage of your brother). 

“i’d like that.” you smile, before digressing: “anyways, that’s enough about me. did you get busy at all?” 

you wiggle your eyebrows at him suggestively, and mingi gives a shy laugh, glancing down. “ah, no.. nothing worth telling. i know a few girls’ favourite colours and that’s about it.” 

there’s a reason mingi could never quite fully commit himself to relationships — they all paled in comparison to what he really longed for. and, well, that reason is sitting right next to him, laughing her ass off and calling him bitchless.

“did they all break it off after you told them yours is ‘cement’?” you snort, patting his arm. 

“something like that.” 

he can’t even find it in himself to feel embarrassed, so caught up in how your whole demeanour brightened and he barely even had to try. you’re like helium to him — his heart soaring in your presence. too much and he won’t be able to come back down. 

“oh, i haven’t laughed that hard in a bit.” you rest your head on his shoulder, sentimental. “i’m so happy i have you back.”

mingi gulps, the simple gesture lighting a flame in his chest. 

“me too.” he replies. though you don’t even understand how deep it runs. 

your head perks up, recognising a familiar and very beloved beat thumping through the walls. it’s one of your favourite songs — and suddenly, your urge to dance is very much back. 

you look to mingi, and he’s already looking at you, grinning helplessly. he doesn’t hold himself back now that you’ve had almost the entire bottle of water, and so he offers you his hand. you take it, leaping up and practically skipping as mingi leads you out of the room. 

you finally end up in dance central, the living room: the crowd of bodies stumbling and shoving now that it’s almost the early hours of the morning, everyone well having drunk their weight in alcohol. 

mingi sort of just stands in front of you as you dance to your heart’s content. he sways with you, but makes no move to get any closer than this. not if it’s what you want. and you do. 

so, you grab his wrists, lead his hands to sit on either side of your waist. mingi’s lips part a little in surprise, and you just pull him in, resting your own hands on his shoulders. he looks a bit like a lost puppy. you can tell he’s fighting the instinct to let go, which makes you smile that much harder when he doesn’t.

you feel good. you’ve reached a chill, fuzzy stage of drunk. you and your best friend are reunited, you’re dancing together, and his body’s warm where it presses against yours. you hadn’t realised before, but mingi’s definitely started taking up the gym — evident with how solid and big his frame is in comparison to yours. in fact, you hadn’t even realised how close your bodies had gotten, but the last thing you want is to move away. you feel so at home. 

mingi keeps himself almost hunched so his face is at level with yours. you notice how flushed his cheeks are, how uneven his breathing is and how sweat beads at his hairline. how he keeps gripping your waist tighter to angle you away — until you shift your hips too much while dancing and find out why. he’s hard. you felt it prod your thigh, and how he sighed out when you brushed against it. 

you try not to get carried away in your own head. mingi’s your best friend — you know he’s probably just really excited to see you again, plus the adrenaline from dancing and all that. at the end of the day he’s just a man. the fact he doesn’t make a move should speak for itself, right? you’re only dancing. it doesn’t have to mean anything.

but, all the energy mingi’s sending you with just his eyes, all the heat radiating off of his body and sinking under your skin. you.. kind of wish it does mean something. 

the sound of glass breaking rings through the air. you flinch, head whipping to the source — and your eyes lock onto yunho immediately. he’s looking directly at the space where your body presses against mingi’s, a half-broken bottle in his hand, rage aflame in his face. 

panicking, you turn back to mingi, and before you realise it he’s shoving you. you stumble back with a gasp as another shatter cuts through the music, louder. glass erupts at mingi’s feet, and you realise he was moving you away from it. 

“get the fuck off my girl!” 

yunho’s shout is the only warning before he’s shoving through the crowd and getting in mingi’s face, roughly grabbing him by the shirt collar, his bloodied hand staining the fabric red. your stomach sinks at the sight of your brother yelling in your best friend’s face, looking like he’s two seconds from colliding his fist with mingi’s jaw. 

it all happens so quick, and it’s broken apart just as quickly — the two men being pulled in opposite directions. it takes a few more to get yunho to let the shirt go, continuing to cuss mingi out as he’s forcefully held back. 

once he’s let go, mingi doesn’t even think before he’s walking to you, making sure none of the glass hit you. 

you risk a glance at your brother as he’s being walked out of the room, and the look on his face makes you sick to your guts. he looks betrayed. 

you’re on the verge of tears as mingi ushers you out, wanting to cry from the embarrassment and the guilt. he manages to find you both a quiet space in the cramped laundry room, and you all but crumple onto the ground once he shuts the door. 

at this level, you inspect his legs — if he’s hurt. it looks like the glass only scraped the leg of his jeans, thank god. 

“what even happened?” you ask him in such a timid voice, teary eyes staring at yunho’s blood on his collar. 

“he, uh.. he threw a bottle at me.” after he saw us together. mingi doesn’t say it, and you don’t either, but you both know it. “i’m sorry i shoved you. are you hurt?” 

mingi takes a weary step closer, and you frantically nod your head in hopes that he’ll back off. mingi’s proximity burns like acid right now — knowing your brother’s out there hurting because you didn’t go with him instead. 

you swallow down a painfully large knot in your throat. your entire face stings from holding back tears. yunho’s always hated being left out, but you thought he would’ve grown out of it by now. you try not to think about how he called you his girl and not, you know, his sister. in fact, you shove it so far down in your brain that you know for certain you won’t remember it once you’re sober. 

mingi stays standing, lingering like a kicked puppy. he keeps gulping as if there’s more he wants to tell you. but he doesn’t. 

you flinch at the sudden knock on the door. mingi gives you a sad glance, wishing he could just hug you or make any of this feel better, before sighing and opening the door. 

a much shorter man with bright orange hair steps in, tipping his head at you in greeting. 

“i didn’t have anything to drink so, i’ll be driving yunho home.” he says to mingi, then turns to you. “uh, hey. i’m hongjoong, by the way.” 

you greet him back and give him your name, and his eyes widen a fraction. “oh, you’re—” he cuts himself off, mingi’s eyes burning into the side of his head. “yunho’s sister. right?”

“yeah...sorry about all that.” 

“eh, it’s not my house.” hongjoong shrugs. “hey, since i’m taking yunho anyways, did you want to come with?” 

“—i don’t know if that’s a good idea right now,” mingi interrupts. he checks for your reaction, in case he overstepped, but you agree with him. 

“damn… you’re really leaving me to deal with an angry yunho all by myself.” hongjoong heaves a sigh. he daps mingi up, then looks between you both. “i’ll see you later. get home safe, alright?”

once hongjoong steps out, you speak up: “i should probably head home.” 

there’s no use now that you’ve sobered up and the mood is sour. mingi nods, having expected it. 

“i’ll buy you an uber.” 

all eyes are on you as mingi leads you out of the house. you curl into him from the shame, and he does what he can to shield you with his arm. 

mingi waits with you outside on the curb. neither of you fill the heavy silence between you. when the uber pulls up, he’s already saying his goodbyes when you impulsively pull him into a hug. 

“let’s see each other again soon?” you mutter into his chest.

you want mingi to know that this night with him still meant the world to you. that you’ll hold tight on to the memories you’ve made, hoping you can remember in the morning. 

mingi doesn’t let go until you do. for a fleeting second, you consider leaving with him, asking the driver to redirect to his place. 

but after your eyes catch on his bloodied collar — you don’t. instead, you spend the entire uber drive home holding back tears, thinking only of yunho. 

──

you slip into the house quietly, toeing your shoes off by the door. the lower floor’s cloaked entirely in darkness, save for the light pouring in from the kitchen. 

you follow the pull that leads you there, and in turn you find yunho: shoulders hunched as he stands by the kitchen island, accompanied by a bottle of whiskey in his hand — bandaged. 

“is that a good idea?” you ask, deliberately keeping yourself separated on the other side of the island. 

yunho hums lowly, finger circling the rim of the bottle. “don’t have a lot of those lately.” 

“is there something bothering you?” 

he’s dead silent, unashamed in how he looks at you with such force in his eyes. you almost feel compelled to step forward, or maybe for your knees to buckle from the pressure. 

“yes.” 

ignoring the flutter in your chest, you press on. “do you want to talk about it?” 

there’s an intentional pause, charged with static. you feel the way the tension curls under your skin, spreading goosebumps across the surface. the sound of yunho taking another swig of the bottle is loud in the heavy silence before he puts it back down and rounds the island. you resist the urge to nervously fidget as he approaches, stopping to stand right in front of you. 

yunho’s mouth twitches, almost as if he’s holding back a grimace, before he speaks. 

“i know you don’t want to hear this, and i know you don’t want to believe it — but you should listen to me. the last thing i want is for you to get hurt.” he sighs, running a hand down his face like you’re stressing him out. “you need to stay away from mingi.” 

“what?” is all you can say. this entire night has flipped everything you knew about these two on its head — they’re best friends. they were before you ever came along. what the hell happened while you were gone? “yunho, where is this coming from?” 

“please, trust me.” yunho grabs your hands, the gauze coarse on your skin. “he’s not who you think he is, baby. i’m trying to look out for you. i won’t stand to see you hurt by him.” 

you’re wedged between a rock and a hard place right now. your system’s just started coming down from the alcohol, leaving your head swimming with periodical throbs, and yunho’s just… sprung this on you, like this doesn’t confuse you even more after the whole broken bottle incident. 

you still have vivid memories of yunho being a possessive little teenaged shit. he always used the family first excuse, rubbed it in mingi’s face whenever he could. a reminder that you’re his sister before you’re anything to anyone else. 

you’ve always thought he was just a sensitive young man, feeling weird about sharing his baby sister with his best friend — another equally hormonally confused boy. 

clearly, he never grew out of it. 

you can’t take a word of it seriously. mingi’s never once pushed your boundaries or made you uncomfortable, and after all these years you’d think yunho would have accepted this fact. mingi’s just not like that. yunho though… he’s got it in him. 

really, you don’t know where his limit is anymore — seeing as he so readily threw a glass bottle at his own best friend, and over a harmless dance! 

“why didn’t you tell me you’d fucked my friends?” you fire back, leaving no time for him to recover. “you could’ve, in the car when i asked. but you didn’t. why?”

yunho’s fingers twitch around yours, knuckles tightening until you wince. the way his eyes darken nearly scares you.

“who told you?”

“...they did.” you lie. “they’re my friends.”

“no, they didn’t.” he says, the certainty in his tone making you shrink in on yourself. 

yunho knows for a fact that they’d never tell on themselves — not out of fear of you, but of him. because they promised him they wouldn’t tell you. and they know better than to break that. 

“it was mingi, wasn’t it?” he tilts his head, and you miss the way he inches closer. he smirks at your answer in silence. “this is what i’m saying. he’s trying to get between us.” 

“but why hide it? why’d you do it in the first place, yunho??” 

you can’t even pretend to not feel upset about it. he’s your brother, it’s none of your business who he slept with; especially if it’s your friends you barely kept in touch with. but it hurts you and you can’t think too hard about why, because you’re not ready to face that just yet. 

yunho lets out a heavy sigh, and it’s then that you notice he’s gotten right in your face, his breath fanning your lips. his face is serious, as it has been all night — but now, his eyes are full of.. sadness.

“because i missed you.” 

the admission has a shiver rolling down your spine. the lack of shame in his voice, the intensity burning in his eyes. the idea that your brother fucked your friends, because that was all he had left of you. 

you don’t know what you’re supposed to do with that. 

“they were mistakes, okay?” yunho cradles your face. so softly, and your anger dissipates. “you’re back now and i don’t want to lose you again. not to anyone, not him. you got that?” he waits for you to nod. “i love you, baby.” 

you don’t have the strength to say it back. not with your stomach in knots. 

yunho leans in, close enough that he can taste the way your breath hitches. he lingers, the tip of his nose just grazing yours, and your heart skips a beat. or perhaps it stopped for one. 

you’re worried. you’re worried that he’ll kiss you, and you’re worried that you don’t know what you’d do if he did. 

perhaps the taste of your panic was too sour, since yunho does not kiss you. on the lips, anyways. but he gets very close. on your cheek, dangerously close to your mouth; he leaves a kiss with his lips pressed to the skin for far too long. it’s tender, too intimate, and confusing — the way your body reacts to it. 

yunho takes his leave for bed, ascending up the stairs; gaze never leaving you, you’d imagine. you weren’t game enough to look back. 

you don’t breathe until you hear his door shut. and when you do, you’re immediately hyperventilating. breath coming out in panicked spurts that take over your whole body. 

you consider going to yunho. now that he’s back in your life you have someone to comfort you, and you have a choice to not cry alone. but the mostly sober brain of yours knows that's a dangerous mistake waiting to be made. you know you shouldn’t, and you don’t linger on the why. 

you even think about crawling into your stepmother’s bed, let her hug you like she did when you were a kid. her baby. but your father’s in there and you don’t want to disturb them. 

in the end, you just take a swig of the bottle yunho left out. it tastes horrible. almost as bad as the bile when you inevitably vomit all this back up in the morning. 

then, you crawl into bed, and you cry with no one but yourself to hold you. just like you did every night for the first year of moving away, wishing for your family to be back together. 

just like now, despite getting exactly what you wished for. 

──

true to your word, you and mingi have started to see each other more often, and yunho doesn’t even pretend to be okay with it. 

you didn’t take a word he said to heart. it’s as if nothing ever even happened that night, save for all your fond memories with mingi instead. 

you hadn’t realised how much you’d missed him until you got him back — slipping in to fill the void that was perfectly shaped for him. 

mingi’s been driving you all over town, revisiting each spot you frequented as teens. your favourite restaurant that went bankrupt, the local arcade that’s long since been renovated, the flea market that’s somehow still kicking. midnight runs for greasy fast food, stargazing in playgrounds, hotboxing his car in parking lots. doing everything together, even when you’re doing nothing at all. 

“would you still love me if i was a chicken?” you asked him once, a joint burning between your fingers into the cool night air. you passed it to mingi, who took a puff while deep in thought. 

“of course. i’d build you a luxury coop, and make gourmet omelettes with your eggs.”

“...what the fuck?”

“damn guess i’ll just go die.”

you can’t remember the last time you felt this free, where each day came this easily. just thinking of being in mingi’s presence is enough to bring a helpless smile to your face — knowing that there’s so much love in your heart, and that he’ll return every little bit of it. no pressure, no uncertainty. no lies. 

who would’ve thought that having a genuine friend is enough to restore your sparkle. 

yunho, spiteful, talked your stepmother into getting a family plan on life360. “baby goes out so often now,” he’d said, barely hiding his sneer. “i’m not always there to keep her out of trouble.” 

and so, now your parents have your location on demand, putting your daily hangouts with mingi on halt. you’d be in a world of trouble if they saw how often you’re out and about, how late you come back, all while your loving brother is left alone at home. or worse, yunho would show up to the function and break down the door then break mingi’s legs.

they still think you’re attached at the hip, see. they’ve got no idea that you’ve been avoiding yunho like the plague after he smashed a bottle that cut his own hand in jealousy. jealousy, what a funny fucking concept when you’re siblings. what’s funnier is that your parents wouldn’t even blink, if anything they might defend him. because that’s just always how he’s been when it comes to you — or rather, you with mingi.

of course, you just bypass this by bringing the girls along, yuqi and minnie. they post you on their socials often but leave out mingi (because they’re single and don’t want other men getting the wrong idea) and you know yunho’s falling for it, considering mingi is still unscathed and you continue to see him. every single day. 

that doesn’t mean yunho won’t punish you for ever breathing in mingi’s vicinity. he’ll kick your ankle under the dinner table when you’re on your phone, knowing you’re texting him. he’ll barge into your room without apologising, hoping to catch you with mingi and have an excuse to finish what he started at the party. he’ll follow you around the house like a clingy dog and basically corner you into spending time with him, in hopes that you’ll feel too bad to leave him for mingi. but, you still do. you have been. and it’s driving yunho up the fucking wall. 

he’s continued his agenda to get in your head, but to no avail. you’re not buying a second of his shit. you’ve even started arguing often like true siblings, cat and dog fights. of course, it’s never about mingi, but it really always is. you’re not actually all that upset at him for leaving the toilet seat up, or him at you for not doing the dishes when it’s your turn. you’re both mad, and the sole reason is the fact that he’s not your person anymore. that you can get your happiness just fine from people who aren’t him.

your stubbornness has reached a point where he’s started lowly sneering reminders at you around the house. “do you have no self respect?”, “don’t come crying to me when you see i was right.”, “i can smell him on you, baby. it’s disgusting.”

you just smirk in the face of each one of his insults, unbothered with a full heart and content soul. yunho’s losing it each day you come home after midnight, quietly creeping to the bathroom like you can wash off the evidence of your betrayal. walking around the house during the day as if you’re not just biding the time for when you can go throw yourself at his best friend again. 

you, on the other hand, are not too worried. blood runs thicker than water or whatever, you’ll be in this family shit for life. you know you’re not going to lose yunho — he wouldn’t let that happen. so you’re sure as fuck going to fight tooth and nail to not lose mingi either. 

what an extremely stressful first few days back it’s been. 

[you] let’s be chickens together

[minki] gobble gobble

[you] that’s a turkey?

[minki] omw in 5

that’s how you found yourself sat passenger in his car, parked in front of some playground that you both had a 2am mcdonalds dinner on, just word-vomiting as you rant about your brother’s behaviour these last few days. mingi nods along, quietly listening. 

“i just wish he’d suck it up! we’re grown ass adults now! my only friend can’t be my brother. can you imagine how he’d be if i got a boyfriend?” you scoff, head falling back into the seat. 

mingi chews on his bottom lip. nervous. “family will always come first though.”

you look at him wildly. “uh?— nuh uh. i’m stuck with him for life. the friends that i chose are more important to me.” 

he’d smile at that, if only his guts weren’t twisting inside out at this conversation. 

“i don’t want to get in between you and your family.” mingi murmurs, solemn. eyes cast to his shoes since he’d crack open if he dared look at you instead. 

it’s confusing you, the fact that he’s slightly siding with yunho; especially because you can tell that he doesn’t really believe that. it’s not even that he thinks it’s what you want to hear either — because you so obviously don’t — so, what gives? 

it just makes you think. wonder, if yunho’s got dirt on mingi that he holds over his head. if there’s any truth to what yunho’s saying. 

you wonder at times, yes. but you don’t believe any of it. 

──

it was good. it was really, really good and it was great. it kept getting greater. then it just got… fucked. so fucked. you can’t help but wonder where it all went wrong.

your eyes are red raw as you stare at your phone, willing his name to pop up in a notification with each blink you suppress. you’re curled up in your bedsheets and your own tears that won’t quite come. you don’t know if you’ve been here for hours, or perhaps it’s been days. time has blended together in a dull slog ever since you realised that mingi’s been ghosting you. 

it began with slower replies, cancelling plans and sad excuses that you never believed but accepted anyways. then, you went a day or two without hearing from him — mingi answering your string of worried messages with a single, dry response before finally going awol on you.  

you don’t understand. you were so unbelievably blindsided. you’ve been having so much harmless fun together. did he feel pressured by you? did you scare him away by getting too attached, too fast? did he worry that this was steering into something he didn’t want with you?

oh god. oh god. you got so comfortable with having mingi back, you’ve completely forgotten how it feels to lose him again. loneliness hurts twice as hard as it ever did, since you were convinced you’d never have to live a day of that feeling being familiar again. you don’t know how you ever got through this — constantly wrapped up in loneliness like a blanket, only peeling it back during brief encounters with meaningless men. mingi’s presence had the same effect, yet you never had to give and he never wanted to take. he just.. loved you. 

or so you thought. stupid. so fucking stupid. 

you’re so deep in your own rumination that you don’t hear your door creak open, yunho quietly slipping in and trying not to skip in joy as he crosses the room to your bed. 

“oh, baby,” he coos at you, sitting on the edge of the mattress where you’re curled up by your phone. he grabs the device — slyly tapping it to check that mingi hasn’t texted — before putting it on your bedside table, away from reach. “what’s the matter?”

you sniffle, pulling the blankets up over your pyjama top that leaves little to the imagination. “period.”

yunho tuts, stroking your hair from your face, fingers caressing your cheek. “did you want me to get you anything?”

get the fuck out, you want to say. but the gentle touches he’s giving you, the comfort of his presence.. it’s enough to stop your wallowing if just for a moment. despite yourself, you feel at ease. you’d almost ask him to hold you, but you don’t want to stroke his ego anymore than this. 

yunho, however, already knew well what was going on. the truth of it. 

you’ve been on your period for days at this point; he saw the wrappers in the bathroom bin, and even caught you putting your heat pack in the microwave, rolling your eyes at him as he passed by. it explains why you’ve done a complete 180 on him this past week — but also why you haven’t fucked mingi just yet. 

see, yunho went through your room. he thoroughly rummaged through it after you moved out, making sure no corner or crevice was unfamiliar to him. he still does so, and often since you’re never home; checking for any sign that you’re fucking men who aren’t him. he found condoms in your bedside drawer and nearly threw up on the spot before realising that it’s an unopened box. 

your friends owed him big time after they didn’t hide their.. relations well enough, resulting in mingi finding out and you in turn. to earn his forgiveness, they pried out the details of your spicy sex life over cocktails at a girls night — and upon learning everything (or everyone) you did back at the old town, it occurred to him that you’ve been using sex like a salve. like a drug even. 

it’s good news, knowing that any intimacy between you is like giving a cigarette to a smoker in withdrawal. it’s also bad news, because if he’s not quick enough, you’ll jump into the arms of the next man you can think of. 

the box of condoms in your drawer, combined with your ongoing period, is like a ticking bomb. if it’s just a matter of waiting, then yunho knew he was close to running out of time before losing you forever. 

so, the only way to go about it was to confront mingi. 

to put it simply, yunho told his best friend to fuck off. he’s failed in all his efforts to get you to cut him off, but when in doubt, he can always bet on threatening mingi. 

“i finally have my family back,” yunho had guilt-tripped. “when will you stop trying to tear us apart?” he even brought out the big guns: “she’s recovering from a sex addiction, you know. stop taking advantage of that.” 

yunho saw the way mingi was looking at you on the dance floor that night. he knows what he wants. he saw it in the men who checked you out at that party. he sees it everyday when he looks in the mirror. 

he made it clear that this would be the last straw. mingi’s got to back off, or yunho is telling you everything. and just the threat of that, looming over his head, was enough to send mingi running with his tail between his legs. now, you’re all yunho’s, to have and to hold. 

he’s not a fool — yunho’s only gone to this extent because he knows he’s got an actual shot. you can pretend the opposite all you like, but he’s seen the boys that you give yourself to. 

he’s been silently following your socials for years, studying every guy you’d soft-launch and post proudly before scrubbing their faces from history. rinse, repeat. that is, until you found soobin. 

yunho laughed out loud the first time he saw soobin’s face on your profile. he damn nearly thought it was himself there. tall frame, dark hair, soft features. if you squint, it really looks like you’re kissing your own brother. and what’s more: you kept this one around for quite a while. on and off, if your sporadic cleansing and dumping of couple photos was anything to go by — but what matters is the fact that you clearly favoured this one much more than any of the others. you may have even loved him. 

and he just so happens to look like yunho, of course. what more confirmation does a guy need? 

it’s all the reason he needs to splay his fingers across your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. all the tension taut inside him channelled into the way he’s gazing down at you, thumb softly swiping over your bottom lip. 

“anything i can do to make you feel better?” he whispers, so soft you could miss it. 

previously forgotten memories from that night at the party flash like a siren through your head: yunho staring at you like he is now, his arms wrapped around you, face inches from yours. the shot of tequila, the tongue on—

“no.” you almost gasp, pulling back from his grasp like it burned you. 

yunho’s still for a moment — internally in shock that you just rejected him — before he smiles. composes himself. “okay.” 

yunho dusts off nonexistent lint from his shirt, needing to occupy his hands while they’re buzzing with the thought of just reaching out and grabbing you. 

“another friend of mine is hosting a party tomorrow night.” he digresses, hoping to wipe your memory of whatever the fuck just happened. “san, it’s his birthday.”

you nod, following along, and yunho lets out the breath that he’d been holding — beyond relieved that you’re not chewing him out for being a disgusting pervert.

his smile shifts from forced to hopeful. “if you’re feeling any better, did you want to come? we had so much fun at the last one.” 

he neglects to mention the dramatic ending with mingi, the dubious tension after getting you drunk, the way his hands wouldn’t come off your body for more than two seconds at a time. 

but whatever, right? all’s good and well again, considering mingi fucking ghosted you like none of it ever mattered. 

that night, how you were acting with yunho was weird, but you’re not recoiling. rather…confused? you know that you didn’t hate it. in fact, across your scattered memories, you can tell that you were having so much fun. 

who knows, maybe you might run into mingi there. give him a piece of your mind. 

“we could go.” 

yunho wishes he could hug you. he would’ve, if this past week’s events hadn’t happened. but the way he just beams at you holds the same sentiment. 

maybe you didn’t choose him today. but, that just means he has to put in the work, so that the next time he offers — he knows you won’t turn him down. 

──

well, how funny is that. not only did mingi show, but it seems like yunho was fully aware he would. the moment you entered to greet the birthday boy, your eyes had found mingi before you could even register it. 

if he wasn’t already at the forefront of your mind, you might have missed him entirely — with the way yunho had subtly stepped into your line of sight, then pointed at something else to distract you. you realise then, it’s what he must’ve done at the first party. you were just too wrapped up in him to notice. 

mingi had cast you one sad, lingering look when you first walked in, and that was it. he’s ignoring you. even cutting his conversations short and walking off each time you happen to stumble into the same room. yunho’s indifferent to his best friend’s suffering; if anything, you might think he’s enjoying it. you haven’t seen him smile and laugh so hard like this in quite some time. you’d think it was his own birthday. 

subsequently, yunho hasn’t left your side once. he won’t repeat that mistake. he deliberately waited for you to get dressed first, just so he could coordinate his outfit to match yours. he’s been showing you off to all his friends, unashamedly calling you baby in front of them, keeping a hand on your back or arm around your shoulder at all times. it’d be suffocating, if only you weren’t so hollow. 

you’re fresh out of fucks to give. they can think what they want to — in fact, you hope they assume you’re dating, just so it can reach mingi. what would he care anyways right? family first and all that stupid shit he cares so much about. 

….you might be drunk. 

yunho hasn’t been outright shoving drinks in your hands like last time, but he has been pouring you one each time you ask. which, you don’t know how many it’s been at this point. you can only hope he’s been keeping track. 

on that thought — you shift where you’re sitting in his lap, tilting your body to face him. 

“yuyu,” you drawl, patting his arm so he releases the hold he has around your waist. “i think i need to pee.”

“you think?” he laughs, poking his cheek with his tongue. he knows you need to, because he’s been counting your drinks. 

yunho leans back on the couch, eyes raking over your body for a split second — how it’s angled on top of him like this — before his arms fall away. he pats your back and helps you stand up, hand falling dangerously low. 

“lucky i know where the bathroom is this time.” he whispers lowly, leading you there.

if he didn’t still think you were on your period, you’re convinced yunho might have tried to sit in there with you — say some excuse like you need help to not fall over, you can’t hold your own hair back if you vomit. he’s really.. pushy with boundaries like that. you don’t know if it’s just because he’s close with his mother, or he wants to be that close with you. he’s always been a physically affectionate person, but you’re too old for it to not raise eyebrows now. 

you all but push yunho down the hallway so he doesn’t stand right outside the fucking door — where he conveniently gets swept up by san and his boyfriend wooyoung, drunkenly professing their love to your brother before attempting to hump him 0.2 seconds after. you narrowly escape from the chaos and duck into the bathroom, then nearly fucking scream from the jumpscare of someone already standing in there. 

and with your luck, it’s mingi. 

without a second thought, you’re kicking the door shut and flipping the lock, taking up space until he’s walking back into the counter. practically cornered. 

“what the fuck is your deal?!” you whisper-shout, aware that yunho’s still down the hall and will tear the door off its hinges if he gets a whiff of mingi in your vicinity. 

mingi raises a hand, trying to stop you from walking too close, but you just press yourself right against it. he visibly melts at touching you before pulling it back, brows furrowed. “you can’t be here..”

“oh, so you can talk?” you snap, while he just looks at you like a kicked puppy. “you better have a damn good reason..”

“there is no reason.” his voice cracks, as if his body can’t even pretend to lie. “i just think it’s better off for both of us if we stop—”

“you don’t believe that.” you cut in. he doesn’t even protest. “say what you mean, mingi. what happened?”

he shakes his head once. then again, firmer, like he’s trying to tell himself no. “i won’t get in between your family anymore.”

there’s that stupid excuse again. you roll your eyes, heaving a tired sigh. “why do you suddenly care about that so much?”

as if on queue, there’s a knock at the door — yours and mingi’s stomachs dropping in unison at the sound of your brother’s voice. 

“you okay in there, baby?” 

you take immediate note of mingi’s face: horror. he’s fucking horrified. big, glossy eyes silently pleading with you. that’s when the understanding dawns. 

“yeah,” you call out. “be done in a sec.” 

there’s a moment of silence before he responds. you’re listening closely, waiting for the sound of receding footsteps, and you realise he must be listening in on you too. 

“alright.” 

at last, yunho backs off — and with a newfound certainty, you hone in on mingi. his pale-stricken face floods with blush as he leans further back onto the counter, you standing nearly between his legs. 

“it was him, wasn’t it?” you whisper. “did he… say something to you?” 

mingi almost goes to shake his head again, before something inside him visibly crumbles. he shuts his eyes with a shaky breath, and nods. 

that makes you frown. your heart hurts for mingi, despite how upset he’s made you these past few days. you really should have seen this coming. yunho’s never taken kindly to sharing. 

tentatively, your hands find mingi’s, and he lets you — your fingers curling around his broad palms. he sighs in relief, allowing himself to softly hold your hand back. 

“it won’t work, mingi. i’m not going anywhere. not again.” 

his lip twitches, face burning from guilt and something a little more. he tried to stick to his resolve, really tried. mingi was barely strong enough to ghost you in the first place — but now you’re here in front of him, telling him everything he’s wanted to hear… god help him, it’s all going to come tumbling out. 

“it killed me to push you away.” he croaks out, throat almost choked up with a sob. 

your affection for mingi wells up inside, sharp and hot, compelling you to reach out and cup his face. 

“then stop doing it, dummy.” you urge him. “i want my best friend back.” 

mingi nuzzles into your hand, his dazed eyes falling to your lips before he shuts them, face screwed up as if he’s in pain. 

“this is dangerous.” 

he shudders when your thumb strokes his cheek, just brushing the edge of his lip. your body weight leaning against his thigh, faces not even a breath apart. 

“what do you want?” you ask him, his cheeks burning under your palms. 

mingi’s eyes flutter open, looking at you like a deer in headlights. the prettiest brown eyes confessing what his mouth is too shy to. he reaches for your top, pinching the fabric while he works up the courage. his mind is blanking, too overwhelmed with the disbelief that this is really happening. 

after years worth of bottling up all his feelings for you, gritting his teeth while yunho dangled you in front of his face, knowing he’d never be able to get between that. at least, not until he danced with you at that party. the fact you left with him and not your own brother showed mingi, for the very first time, that he could compete with yunho. it’s why he had the courage to ignore the looming shadow of his best friend’s fury each time he’d hang out with you. it’s why he even bothered showing up tonight, knowing that yunho would bring you along to show off in front of mingi. it’s why he lingered inside this bathroom after hearing your voice outside, hoping you’d find and confront him. 

and here you are. 

he can’t find the right words to express any of this — so he just pushes himself to lean forward until his lips find yours. 

it’s a ghost of a kiss, a barely-there press of his lips before he’s pulling back, his inner conflict evident in his longing eyes. 

“you,” he whines out, “all i’ve wanted is this, you.”

your heart cracks wide open, and everything you’ve told yourself not to feel for your best friend comes spilling out. mingi really loves you, you can tell by the way it pours through his gaze. the way your reflection in his eyes is twice as beautiful as how you see yourself. 

you don’t hesitate before kissing him back, leaning your whole body into him. you swear you felt his heart jump in his ribcage, just so it could match the beat of yours. 

mingi whimpers into the kiss, his hands softly holding your waist while yours sit atop his fluttering pulse. it’s not even that heated, but you’ve never felt so fucked up from a kiss before — a deep, intimate kiss. your mouths moving together slowly, flushed bodies pressed close together. you’re like tequila: mingi can only bear little sips, too much and he’ll be a goner. 

your tongue swipes at his bottom lip, testing the waters, and mingi encourages you with a soft hum. you lick into his mouth, and a whine resounds from his throat. 

he’s working you up so quickly with nothing but slow kisses. you reel yourself back in with each urge to rush this, wanting to savour the moment. revelling in all the adoration mingi’s pouring into each soft swipe of his tongue against yours. 

despite your best efforts, you can’t help yourself to rolling your hips, desperate to be as close as possible — mingi letting out a deep groan as you rub against his boner. after a moment to collect himself, he’s gently pulling you back by the waist, since the last thing he wants is for you to feel pressured. 

what you do want though, is him. 

“mingi,” you say, running a hand down his chest. he lets out a sort of stifled whimper as a reply. “let’s leave.”

he nearly gasps as your fingers creep down to his stomach, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, before stopping at the waistband of his pants. his length throbs under the fabric, silently begging for your touch. 

“but, you can’t..” he pouts, staring directly at your hand, how it sits just above where he wants it most. your response is a kiss, and he’s nothing but putty in your palm. 

“i don’t care about anything else.” you tell him, channelling all your certainty into your eyes so he can see it. “i want you, mingi.”

that does it. he already knew he was done for when you cornered him in here — hell, the day that you moved back — but there’s no more fighting it now. what yunho doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right?

mingi nods, giving himself over to you, and your sweet smile at him makes it all worth it. you kiss him again, just for good measure. 

“did you drive?”

“yeah.”

“then let’s get out of here.” 

you barely open the bathroom door as you squeeze your way out, yunho running up to you the second you stepped a toe outside. you’re not even putting on an act when he notices how flushed and out of breath you are. 

“did you fall in?” yunho chuckles, his smile dropping a fraction as he glances at the crack in the door. 

thankfully, he’s easy to distract as you hug him, whining about ‘how sick you suddenly feel’. his attention is yours again as he fusses over you, and you take the chance to close the door — shielding mingi on the other side. 

yunho whisks you away, saying that it was about time for the cake. you dare a glance over your shoulder, locking eyes with mingi as he quietly nudges the door open. he smiles softly at you, a cute contrast to how he’s readjusting the front of his pants. you smile back just before rounding the corner. 

you stand with yunho’s arms wrapped around you amongst the circle of friends surrounding san, drunken tears in his eyes as he scream-sings along to happy birthday. the party cheers for him as he blows out his candles, pulling wooyoung into a sloppy make-out right in front of the cake. 

yunho bends down to kiss your cheek, gently rubbing your tummy as he asks, “will you have cake, baby?” 

in your peripheral, you just catch mingi’s broad frame shouldering his way out of the room, pretending like he’s pissed after overhearing that. yunho’s lip curls into a smirk, and you know it was on purpose.

“actually, um,” you worm your way out of his grasp, acting like you’re nervously fidgeting. “i’m sorry, i was too embarrassed to say anything before.. i had, um, an accident.” you wait for yunho to prompt you to go on, his hand rubbing at your arm to comfort. it burns like acid. “i need period stuff. i couldn’t find anything in the bathroom.”

your stomach twists with how genuine his concern is, sighing and rubbing at his forehead like it genuinely stresses him to see you suffering. 

“did you want me to drive to the corner shop? get you something?”

you shake your head, portraying yourself as not wanting to be an inconvenience. “it’s okay. yuqi’s around, i just wanted to ask her if she has anything.”

yunho’s eyes go slightly dim at how you turned down his offer, favouring the help of someone else — a disloyal friend, at that. but he reels himself back in, softening the bubbling anger as he strokes your hair. 

“okay. don’t go too far.”

“i’ll try not to,” you reassure him, not forgetting the cherry on top: “thanks, yuyu.”

the lie tastes like bile as you leave him there, walking through the crowd and pretending to scan the house for yuqi until you slip out of yunho’s line of sight — and then out of the room. 

you take the back door, stepping out into the night as you round the side of the house and veer off to the cars parked in a row across the street; meeting mingi where he leans against the hood of his. 

you practically run to him, letting him scoop you up in his arms and press his lips to yours like he misses you already. one kiss turns to two, and two into standing there for a minute, panting as your mouths move together. mingi has to pry you off of him before he just lets you take him on the asphalt, blushing as you giggle over the pitch in his pants, back like it never left. 

as you slide into the passenger side, you decide to turn off your location on your phone, then set it to do no disturb. you’re not going to let anyone get in the way of this. 

──

“so, your mother isn’t home?” you ask, quietly slipping into the bedroom. 

mingi enters behind you and flicks the light on, shaking his head shyly. you take the chance to scan around his room, recognising what he’s kept the same and noticing what he’s added: new posters on the wall of anime he’s watched over time, trinkets collected from various museum visits, stray dumbbells in the corner from whenever he began working out. 

relatively tidy for a man’s space (and one with his attention span), which you can only assume is because he avoids run-ins with bugs at any cost. it makes you giggle: remembering all the times you’ve found a cockroach right in this room, while mingi screamed and begged you to catch it for him. 

oh, you love him. you love this scaredy cat, who has snuck you away from your crazy guard dog of a brother for a second time now, just because you asked. 

your brother…

you try to push it out of your brain. you can’t be thinking of that right now, not while mingi’s standing here, wanting you just as badly as you want him. he’s anxiously fiddling with his shirt, looking so unsure of himself now when his tongue was in your mouth not even half an hour ago. cute. he’s so damn cute. 

you step to him, smiling at how his breath audibly hitches when you cup his face. you’ve got no intentions of holding back now: pressing your front flush against him, feeling how his body tenses under the contact. static coursing under the barriers of clothing. as if you’re waiting for permission, he nods in tiny, and it makes you giggle. 

“sorry,” he murmurs. “i’m nervous.”

“don’t be.” you reassure him, and he sighs as your thumb traces his lower lip. 

“how can i not? you’re so pretty.” 

you shush him with a gentle peck. “then show me.” 

at that, he leans down to kiss you for real, inhaling through his nose like you’re the air he breathes. you understand why he’s been so shy as his length pokes your thigh, already half-hard. he must be so excited, and it has your heart fluttering — then soaring as he whimpers softly into your mouth, his tongue tentatively sliding against yours. 

your phone thuds when you let it drop to the carpet, giving mingi your full attention as both of your hands roam the expanse of his back. you want to feel the hard work he’s spent at the gym yourself, so you hike your hands under his shirt, palms sliding along the ridges of muscles. mingi’s breath quickens, goosebumps racing across his skin. his body’s always been sensitive, and with how desperately he’s wanted you, it’s dialled up to the absolute worst. he wouldn’t want it any other way. 

you keep kissing, almost innocently, for a while. deep, slow, deeper. it’s reverent as his tongue explores your mouth, while he ignores his length quickly growing in his pants. now that you’ve let him kiss you once, mingi just doesn’t want to stop giving them to you, entirely addicted to your tequila lips. you ignore every urge to just shove him to the wall, to rip his clothes off and go to town on him. this isn’t like any other sex you’ve had — mingi isn’t like any other guy you’ve known. he’s your best friend in the whole wide world. you love him, and the kisses taste even sweeter knowing that he loves you back just as much. 

mingi’s being very polite, letting you grope at his back and hips while his own hands refuse to flinch from your waist. you can tell how much each of your touches affect him — the evidence quite literally throbbing into your thigh — but you know he won’t make a move without you outright telling him you want it. so, you do it for him. 

you guide mingi to the bed with a gentle push, following as he sits on the edge and then planting yourself down in his lap. when you connect your lips again, the kiss is undoubtedly more heated — your ass pressed to his boner, your hands threading through his hair. worked up, you tug at the strands, earning a deep sexy grunt from mingi. 

he’s very vocal as he just takes the hurried kisses you’re giving him, his head craning back from the force of your lips and the grip of your fingers. it’s turning you on like crazy, especially with how you can tell his length’s grown noticeably yet he makes no move to pay it any mind. a guy of his size, letting you lead this and for him to follow. 

“god, i want to ruin you,” you mutter, and mingi just whimpers, his eyes going wide as saucers when you give an experimental roll of your hips. 

he’s big, you can tell. a dick that size, this hard? it’s all the more impressive that he restrains from bucking up into you or holding you in place to grind against — rather melting as you rut yourself against his lap. pushing his head up into your hand, prompting you to tug it again, and mingi just moans over the light sting combined with the heavy pressure against his cock. he’s so perfect, you can’t believe it. 

the friction burns with the fabric but it burns good, your pussy practically buzzing with the impatience to feel him inside you. you think you even catch him twitch in his pants, his mouth struggling to keep up with your kisses as he lets all his pretty moans spill without shame. 

mingi suddenly pauses your ministrations as his hands still you by the hips — only, he’s not strong enough to stop you, as you just continue slowly. it feels even better too, the slow drags allowing you to really feel the shape of him under the fabric. mingi stammers, focus torn between his own words and how pretty you look on top of him like this. 

“what do you want to do?” he feels the need to ask, gauging how far you want to go. you can’t help but adore how cute he looks with his lips puffy from all the kissing. 

you smile, twirling a strand of his hair. “you.” 

mingi eyes flutter shut, still in disbelief that any of this is actually happening. you really want him the same as he’s wanted you for as long as he can even remember. 

wanting to speed things up a bit, you slide yourself back on his lap, sitting on his knees and exposing the beautiful impression against his pants. for a second, you almost just beg him to stick it in now and fuck you into the mattress, but you know mingi wouldn’t let that happen. he probably wants to take his time, make sure you feel even better than him. 

you pull your dress over your head, and mingi’s starstruck as he admires your body in the simple lace underwear set, blush flooding his face. then, it’s his turn, and he almost rushes to help you tug his shirt off. 

yep, he definitely works out. in awe, you trace his toned chest and stomach, nails scraping just by his nipples — and his abs flex from the sensitivity. 

he huffs, coy. “i’m ticklish..”

so he says… curious, you kiss at his neck, keeping your eyes on the way his tummy tenses, his pelvis doing tiny rolls into the air like it’s missing your heat. wanting to grant him the relief he deserves, your fingers curl around his waistband, and he takes the hint to lift his hips. in one motion you drag down both layers of his pants and boxers, exposing him down to his thighs where you’re sitting. 

mingi groans in relief as his cock bobs free: flushed red, weeping, and painfully hard. you blink, examining the size in comparison to your body, wondering how it’s all going to fit. he’s big, and thick too. maybe the girthiest you’ve been with. definitely the prettiest. you don’t know how to tell him that he has a pretty dick without sounding like a bad porno, so you’ll have to just show him. 

you reach a hand out to him, your fingers not even meeting your thumb as it wraps around the base. mingi studies your hand around him, looking astonished at the sight. you’ve got no idea how many times he’s imagined this exact picture before him. his body trembles as you spit directly on his cock, your hand chasing it as you tug up to the tip, precum dribbling over your knuckles. 

you give a few strokes to coat his whole length in the slick, mingi heaving above you as he watches. your fingers tighten, and he throws his head back with a deep grunt as your wrist twists, stimulating the entirety of his length as you pull at him. 

your mouth waters just looking at him, how fucked up he is over nothing but your fingers. a size like this is a waste if you’re not sticking it anywhere. 

so, you stand from his lap and drop your knees to the carpet, prying his legs open to accommodate you. mingi looks like there’s not a thought left in his brain: mouth falling open at the sight of you kneeling, cock barely fitting in your hand, breasts spilling from your bra. 

he braces himself as you pull his pants and boxers the rest of the way down, planting his hands behind him on the mattress. he already knows he’ll need something to hold on to. 

“you’re big, mingi,” you beam at him, licking your lips.

he blushes at your words. “if it’s too much, you don’t have to take all of it..”

“i want to.”

mingi lets out something like a pained groan, his length twitching in your palm. “you’re gonna kill me.”

“i did say i want to ruin you.” you remind him, rubbing his frenulum with your thumb. it’s just too easy to want. he’s so vocal, and sensitive, and pretty all over. briefly, you wonder how much experience he has, considering he admitted to having no luck with dating. you don’t want to ask though — your heart just breaks at the thought of anyone else having your best friend like this. 

you want to claim him so thoroughly, he won’t be able to remember there being anyone else. 

you leave a kiss on his tip, pre smearing your lips like a gloss. mingi covers his face, whining.

“i’ve thought about this a lot...”

“really?” you ask him, intrigued. “how often?”

“it’s so embarrassing.”

“it’s not.” you intertwine a hand with one of his, coaxing him into revealing his face, now beet red.

“i had to stop myself from kissing you each time we’d hang out.” mingi admits. “i wanted to make a move so, so bad. i was just scared.” 

“don’t hold back now,” you blink up at him, lining your mouth up. “okay?”

mingi’s not sure if he got out a nod, since he’s immediately throwing his head back as your lips wrap around the head of his cock without warning. you take him down inch by inch, his cock pulsing in the heat of your mouth, causing him to shudder each time your teeth scrape the soft skin. 

you’re determined to fit him all in, holding your breath as you focus on opening up your throat. mingi’s leaking so much pre that you almost mistake it for cum. your cheeks already ache from the effort of stretching around his thick size, but it’s not enough to deter you — not with mingi whining so prettily above you, his knuckles white as they fist his bedsheets. 

your lips finally reach the base, nose buried in his groin as your mouth envelops his entire length. you pause to let him breathe for only a moment, before you’re hollowing your cheeks and sucking. you draw out a long, pained moan from him as your throat constricts around him. 

you start to bob your head, forgetting to inhale any air as you focus on sucking him into your mouth as tight as possible. the noises are filthy, wet squelching filling the room with all the drool and precum running down his length. you must’ve sounded worrying down there, since mingi’s pulling you off of him, his cock popping from your mouth. 

“breathe.” he tells you, looking no better himself. he’s completely flushed down to his chest, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “i can’t feel good if you’re not breathing.” 

you pout at him. out of spite, you stretch your lips around him again, but stopping at the tip. mingi’s adam’s apple bobs as he watches you, and you want to suck a hickey onto it after. 

you gently suck, like a lollipop. opening your lips to run your tongue over the tip, switching to quick kitten licks as you stare directly into his eyes. you make it a point to audibly inhale and exhale for him to prove that you’re breathing. 

“can i deepthroat you again yet?” 

he gulps. “...yeah.”

without hesitation, you’re plunging back down, eagerly filling your mouth with his cock until you nearly gag on it. you pick your pace back up from where you left off, his tip fucking the back of your throat with each bob. you alternate between running your tongue over the underside and swirling it at the tip, and mingi is gone. he died and went to heaven sometime during your question. you really know how to make a guy fall in love. he almost doesn’t want you to stop, but otherwise— 

“oh, fuck!” mingi moans, trying to push your face away while his hips pull back at the same time. you stare at him, confused; understanding what happened (or what almost happened) as his flushed cock jerks violently right in front of your face. 

“i’m sorry,” he breathes out. “i’m sorry, i was gonna cum,”

you just smile at him, unphased. you run your fingers gently over his length, tracing a vein on the underside, and he lets out the most gorgeously wrecked whimper. 

“w-wait, i’ll seriously cum if you do that,”

you stop only because of how panicked he sounds. a shame — you really wanted him to cum in your mouth. 

mingi notices your slight frown and pulls you up, sitting you back on his lap like a doll. “come here.”

he kisses you, licking into your mouth that still tastes like him. you give him a messy kiss before pulling back, aiming straight for the jugular as your lips latch to the skin. still sensitive, mingi shudders as you suck a patch of bruises onto his neck. you run your tongue over his adam’s apple, and the way it bobs in a moan has your head fucking spinning. 

you can feel how wet you are. he could probably slip right in. it’d sting, no doubt, but it’d be worth it. mingi must be able to read your mind, since he places a gentle hand on your inner thigh, giving you puppy eyes. 

“can i?”

as much as you want to jump straight into sex, you nod. because each way he touches you is full of so much love, you're willing to wait. and you know he might even get more out of this than you will. 

mingi’s fingers trail down to your panties, his eyes going wide as he feels the wet patch that’s formed. like he can’t believe he’s affecting you just as much as you’re affecting him. 

he lifts you and lays you down on the bed, crawling over your body. he looks to your face for permission as his fingers tap your bra, and you give him another nod, helping him unclip it from behind. you discard it somewhere on the floor. 

mingi’s entranced with your bare chest. he gently cups a breast with his hand, giving a tentative squeeze, looking to you. again, you nod, cracking a smile at how nervous he still is, even after you put his whole dick in your mouth. 

“i want you to touch me, mingi.” you say outright for him, and he drops his head to your chest, chuckling. 

when it rises again, the look of love so potent in his eyes nearly knocks the wind out of you. 

“you are so fucking pretty.”

taken aback by the cuss, you gasp as he kisses your nipple, cupping your other breast with his free hand. 

he licks and sucks at the bud, keeping the other occupied as he rolls it between his fingers. he then switches between the two, showing equal love to each breast, and it has your pussy twitching. you could probably cum like this. you’d let him do it, too. 

you almost protest as he moves off, trailing kisses down your stomach, all the way until his chin nudges your groin. mingi rises from the bed, and he gets down on his knees, exactly like you did for him. 

he pulls your panties down your legs, eyes honed in on your glistening pussy between them. chucking the garment wherever your bra landed, you spread your legs for mingi to sit between, propping your thighs on his shoulders.

he looks amazed at how wet you are, and you can understand how he nearly came so quick with you down in the same position. he’s so goddamn pretty.

mingi raises his hand to you, and prods only a single finger at your entrance. his thumb finds your clit, and he presses it so perfectly as his finger slides in, you could cry thinking about where he learned this from. he cusses under his breath as your wet warmth envelops his finger, and he pulls out to immediately add a second. you’re tight, he’s going to have to work to make himself fit. 

you, on the other hand, have been so turned on that you feel like you could cum at any second. your hips squirm, wanting so badly to entice mingi into just fingerfucking you silly. he lets out a hoarse laugh, satisfying the demand as his thumb circles your clit, his two fingers crooking up into your sweet spot. 

he watches your pussy sucking him in, and mingi just crumbles. “shit—” 

he moves his thumb only to replace it with his mouth, and you damn near scream as his lips close around your clit. a third finger joins the others as he starts to fuck them into you, mingi flattening his tongue and lapping at your buzzing clit like a dog. 

it’s so much all at once, and it’s more than enough to have you toppling off the edge, your legs locking around his head as your orgasm washes over you. mingi sucks your clit through it, curling his fingers up so hard and fast that you see stars. 

he pulls back for a quick breath, sounding ragged as if he was on the verge of passing out, before groaning a “fuck” and diving right back in. not even listening to his own advice about breathing. your body thrashes above him as the waves of pleasure just keep on coming. 

you don’t know how long it is before you go limp, completely spent. but not done. not yet. 

mingi leaves one last kiss on your sensitive clit before he’s pulling his fingers out and climbing back up. “beautiful, so fucking beautiful.” he grunts, running his tongue over your breasts. 

you’re so sensitive, your hands pulling at his hair, causing a groan to rumble on your nipple. his bare cock slides against your inner thigh, precum smearing the skin. you reach down to guide him to your pussy, and you both moan in tandem as his cock slides through your folds. 

you roll your hips, and he follows, desperately grinding your wet heat together; his cock bumping your clit so perfectly with each thrust. 

“i want you,” you pant. 

“i want you too.” mingi sobs, wanting to feel this heat wrapped around him more than anything, but knowing he can’t fucking have it. 

“fuck me, mingi,” you plead him. 

“i c-can’t,” he whines. “i don’t have a, ah— a condom.”

“i don’t care, i want you.”

mingi lets out a broken groan into your shoulder. “fuck, you’ll really let me?”

“yes, mingi, please.”

“okay,” he huffs, catching his breath, comprehending that this is happening for real. “okay.”

mingi kisses your face as he works up the courage, lining his cock up. his tip nudges your hole, and he whimpers at the raw sensation. 

“okay. if you want me to stop—”

“—i won’t.” you smile at him, and he just shakes his head, laughing to himself. 

“what’d i do to deserve you?” he says, intertwining his hand with yours. 

you keep eye contact as mingi pushes in, your face crumpling as his thick head splits you open. he pauses, worried he’s hurting you, but you nod frantically for him to keep going. just like you thought, it’s a good fucking sting. he did well with his fingers, since you’re able to focus on breathing as he sinks his entire length inside. 

you feel almost unbearably full as mingi bottoms out, softly whimpering above you. his hand holding yours tight. your pussy flutters around him as it adjusts to the size, and he almost doesn’t even want to move. 

you encourage him further with a soft kiss. mingi drags his hips until only the tip’s left, before pushing all the way back in. you both break off into a moan as he splits you open again, the glide smoother this time with your arousal gushing around him. 

another reassuring kiss from you is all mingi needs to snap his hips again, and again and again. every thrust being so deep, shuffling you up the bed just from the force. 

his other hand props himself up by a fist on the mattress, determined to fuck you as best he can. each movement has his length rubbing at your g-spot so beautifully. you don’t even realise that you’re holding your voice back, forgetting to do anything other than just take him. 

“breathe, please.” he tells you again, thumb stroking your hand as a comfort. “i want to know how you’re feeling.”

“it feels so, so fucking good.” you cry out for him. 

mingi dives down to kiss you, and you can feel his smile as it slots against your lips. he’s proud of himself for being able to please you. he breaks off with a high-pitched whine as your pussy grips him like a vice, and it might be the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard. 

“cum in me,” you whisper to him, holding his face. “i want it.” 

his only response is another of those sexy whines, his face scrunching up in pain from how hard he’s trying not to instantly bust over your words. 

“god, you’re so good to me.” he pants out, fisting the sheets as he puts all his energy into ramming his hips as fast as they’ll go. his thighs ache from the gruelling pace, but it’s all worth it with your cries of bliss filling his ears. 

your pussy clamps down on him, and you shout as another orgasm sneaks up on you.

“fu—ah, mingi!”

he cusses as he realises what’s happening, and he’s helpless to how his own release follows immediately after, his hips stuttering as he spills out inside you — your name on his tongue. 

mingi’s chest falls on yours, rapidly rising for air, and he still pulls you in for another kiss. breathless as his hips kick weakly inside you, his tongue fervently licking against yours. he’s kissing you so desperately, you almost can’t keep up. 

“i wanna be yours,” he pants out in between kisses, cradling your face so sweetly in his hands. 

you smile, whispering back, “i wanna be yours too.” 

“so be mine.” he pulls back just to beg. “please?” 

you can’t say no to an adorable face like that. you tip your head in a nod, and mingi dives back in, your sweaty bodies falling into a pile of love.

you don’t say it outright — but the implication is there. you’re not just best friends anymore. as if you could be, after that. and as mingi sucks at your neck, his cock growing hard again where it’s still buried inside you, you couldn’t be happier. 

──

you jolt awake, a deep pit sinking in your stomach as your blurry eyes spin at the ceiling. warm arms draped around your bare body being all to keep you grounded. you nearly recoil at the weight pressing down, last night’s memories flooding back in a tidal wave, headed by a thick slew of guilt. pure fucking guilt. 

mingi stirs beside you, sleepily squeezing your side as if he’s checking you’re still there. a dopey grin spreads across his cheeks as he squints at you, still half-asleep. “thought i was dreaming.”

he goes to kiss your temple, and you pull back without thinking. hurt flashes across his face, but it slides into understanding as the fog clears from his head. the spell couldn’t last forever. 

“is this okay?” mingi asks in such a small, unsure voice that breaks your heart, his hands hovering off of you. 

you nod, curling back into his touch. you should make the most of it while it lasts. you sure as hell got a greedy fill last night. your thighs ache as your body shifts, a reminder of how long you were spread out last night. mingi massages your back, comforting you in silence. 

“i have to go home.” you say finally. he already knows. 

“i can take you.” he offers, nose nudging your hair as he breathes in your scent. he’s going to miss it. 

you accept, since that’s the least you could do for him right now — but make a mental note to ask him to drop you off around the corner. all hell would break loose if mingi’s car pulled up in the driveway after you’ve been missing for an entire night. 

mingi retreats to the bathroom to grant you some space — evidently resisting the urge to invite you in by the pout on his face. if you really meant what you said last night, you’re his now. all he has left is to call you his girlfriend. the last thing he wants is to put distance between you. but, he knows you need it right now, and that’s enough reason for him to. 

you let out a genuine whine when you find your phone on the floor: the battery in the single digits, the lockscreen flooded with frantic texts and missed calls. you scroll through it, ignoring each and any text with yunho’s name attached. you don’t have the strength to confront those just yet. you feel a pang of shame seeing your stepmother’s contact strewed in there too — no doubt yunho had ran and cried wolf. 

further down, your eye catches on a batch of missed calls from an unknown number, a single voicemail attached. curious, you press to listen. 

“hey, it’s hongjoong.…sorry we keep speaking like this. i’m with yunho right now. i got your number from his phone, which i confiscated, since he was going to smash it. he’s very drunk and freaking out over you. i don’t know what happened between you two but… uh, look, i saw you leaving with mingi. i haven’t said anything because they’re both my friends, so.. just, please call yunho back, when you can? let him know you’re okay. don’t know if i’ll be able to get this massive guy to bed any other way. cheers.”

shame clogs up your throat, leaving you coughing until your lashes dot with tears. why did it have to come to this? why did a choice made out of tender, sweet love become something so fucking gutwrenching? 

feeling broken enough, you scroll back through the texts to skim over yunho’s, each word hurting more than the last. you stop at a certain notification — one that you initially missed among the others, one that has your heart dropping immediately. 

a single missed call from your father. 

you don’t hesitate to call him back. he never calls you. he never feels the need to. you’re not close like that. 

each ring that you wait through is like another stab to your ribs until finally, he picks up, voice groggy as he says your name. you must’ve woken him up. 

“i’m sorry, dad.” you bumble out. “you called?”

he hums, mildly annoyed. the simple noise twists the knife. “where were you last night? your mother was worried sick.”

“i’m really sorry, i..” you gulp, making a split second choice on a lie. “my friend yuqi took me to her house. i lost track of time and fell asleep. i didn’t want anyone to worry over me, i’m sorry.”

“i’m fine.” he replies, unphased. another twist. “you should be apologising to your brother. he came home in tears, sobbing over you. you were with mingi, weren’t you?” you can’t even bring yourself to reply, your ribcage cracking open. your father sighs. “yunho’s concerned about you, baby. he says mingi’s bad news, that he’s trying to isolate you, but you won’t listen.”

that pisses you off enough to interject. “that’s bullshit. he—”

“—your brother matters more!” he silences you, frustration evident in his tone. “family comes first, baby. you should be taking care of yunho. he really cares about you. you shouldn’t be ruining that. not for some boy.” 

you bite your lip until you taste blood. you fucking hate the way he says it. even when you were only innocent kids, not understanding why boys and girls couldn’t be friends, your father hammered it down that he’d never approve of you with mingi. he grew to tolerate the friendship over time, but that disapproval never faded, and you have no idea why. 

“he’s not just some boy.”

you father heaves a sigh, and it’s so heavily disappointed that you nearly cry on the spot. 

“i don’t want you to make the same mistakes i did, baby. those.. habits you had back at the town, i only ever let it happen because you were struggling. you have got to grow out of it now. we’re a family again.” he gives a bitter chuckle. “i know that you must get it from me.”

it’s so quiet on your end, you’re sure he must’ve heard the way your heart shattered before you abruptly hung up. 

hearing all of that from him, his genuine disappointment in you, as if he’s not the one who cheated and split up the family in the first place. acting like what you’ve done is comparable. 

you’ve never spoken much about emotions with your father. you’ve never spoken much about anything with him. it’s part of the reason why you depended on yunho so much while growing up, why you let him leech onto you. 

the door creaks, and you profusely wipe at your face. mingi slowly pokes his head through, water still dripping from his hair. he looks upset, and you realise he must’ve been standing outside, not wanting to interrupt but hearing everything. 

he fiddles nervously with the door handle. “do you want me to..”

you choke on a sudden sob, covering your face with your hands before tears can fall. mingi’s crossing the room within a second, sliding onto the bed next to you and enveloping you in his arms. you fall forward into his chest, swallowing down each sob threatening to claw its way up. you refuse to cry over your father. 

“i have to go home,” you say, mostly to tell it to yourself. there’s another part to the sentence, one that you don’t say out loud, but you can both hear it. you have to see yunho.

you expect mingi’s hold to loosen, for him to be mad that you’re leaving, but he only nods — kissing your hair. 

“i understand.”

there isn’t any more words as he cradles you like that for however long, letting you stain his clean shirt with sniffled tears. the warmth radiating from his body seeps under your skin, and you feel a little more okay with every second his arms hold you. you feel loved, knowing he wouldn’t let anything outside of these walls harm you. 

eventually, you force yourself to go into the bathroom to freshen up, tidying yourself up so you don’t look like you’ve just cried after a night of sex. you return to the bedroom to see mingi taking the sheets off the bed, and it breaks your heart with how he’s basically cleaning up the evidence. 

you should do your part, too. 

“could we stop by a pharmacy first, please?” 

he nods. “anything you need.”

on the way out, you shoot yuqi a text asking if she can cover for you — forward planning, since it seems like you’re going through with hiding this. 

you can’t stop that sinking pit in your chest, that sharp twisting in your ribs. just last night, you felt like you were being dipped in gold each time mingi touched you, and now the memory sears your skin like acid. choosing to love mingi feels like a betrayal, like you’ve just cheated. and you can’t understand why. 

──

you wince as the front door creaks open a bit too loudly for your liking, hoping your family aren’t prepared to greet you together as if ‘walk of shame’ is written across your forehead. 

to your luck, only your stepmother appears — letting out a noise of relief as she rounds the corner from the kitchen. out of anyone, you’d rather run into her anyways. 

“oh baby,” she tuts, bringing you in for a hug. she scrunches her nose as she pulls back, likely getting a big whiff of the sample pharmacy perfume you doused yourself in. “do you not like my life360 family plan that much?”

“er, no, it’s not that. i’m sorry, last night i didn’t know what—”

“oh, it’s alright.” she cuts the excuse off, placing a hand on your shoulder as her expression falls to a stern one. “just don’t do that to your brother again.”

you gulp through a dry throat, nodding. 

as if on queue, yunho’s flying down the stairs, barely giving you time to react before he’s scooping you into his arms. wrapping his whole body around you with a grip so tight it hurts. your stepmother takes her leave, giving you both the space to have it out. 

“i was so worried.” he mutters, face pressed to your shoulder. he breathes in, and you only hope he can’t smell the traces of mingi on you underneath the perfume. “why did you leave me?” 

he pulls back in anticipation of your response — your excuse, your lie if he can catch it. you know he’s not dumb. mingi disappeared and so did you not long after. you know how it looks. but he’s never going to be able to prove it if he didn’t see it. in fact, he can even ask your alibi yuqi, who promised she’d back up whatever story you tell despite not knowing what for. 

yunho’s eyes are almost entirely devoid of his usual warmth. which, if the dark circles under his eyes are any indicator, he may not have even slept. his hair’s mussed too, like he’s only just rolled out of bed upon hearing the door. or maybe it’s because he’s been tugging at it. 

“i’m sorry,” you say wobbily, your body trembling under his hands — with guilt, but also with the adrenaline of lying. “i’m really sorry, i didn’t think it would get like this.”

yunho’s scarily still as he waits for you to elaborate. you take deliberate pauses to breathe, like you need to find the words. like you didn’t already plan what you’re going to say during the car ride over. 

“i just felt so sick and i wanted to leave, so yuqi took me back to her place, and..” you cover your face with your hands, acting cringed. “we got stoned.” 

lying 101: include an embarrassing detail. after all, why would you intentionally make yourself look bad? 

yunho pulls your hands back, his eyes searching your face wildly. “why didn’t you come to me instead?? you turned your location off, you wouldn’t answer your phone for anyone — do you understand how that looks?” 

“i know, i’m really sorry,” you whine, like the ‘truth’ makes you uncomfortable. “i just didn’t want to have to tell anyone… i was worried you’d be mad.”

“of course i don’t want you to smoke, but i would’ve liked to know that.” he cradles your face in his hands, tone softening. “i was so fucking worried about you, baby. why would you leave without saying anything?”

“i didn’t want to be a burden.. it was your friend’s birthday, and i had yuqi there for me—”

“i could have been there for you.” yunho hugs you to his chest again, leaving a kiss on your hair. “please come to me from now on.” 

you nod profusely — internally stunned with yourself that you actually managed to convince him. “are you going to tell our parents?”

“what, that you ditched me to get high?” he chuckles at how you cringe, fondly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “no, i won’t.” then his smile drops. “as long as you never do that again.”

you nod, but that’s not good enough. his grip tightens like a warning, until you reply: “i won’t.”

successfully fooled but now freshly possessive, yunho follows you all the way up the stairs and into your room. even after you tell him you want to change, he lingers as if he’s waiting for you to just start stripping in front of him. he doesn’t even lock the door on his way out, and gives you only a minute of privacy before he’s barging back in — catching you in the middle of pulling a top over your bare tummy. 

you know you fucked up. not because what happened with mingi was a mistake — but because breaking yunho’s trust was. he’ll never let you out of his sight now, not until he’s convinced you won’t get snatched up and sullied by his best friend if he so much as blinks. from yunho’s perspective, you and mingi haven’t been in contact since he ‘cut you off’. as long as mingi plays his part well enough, then your brother will never know what really happened last night. 

yunho doesn’t speak, doesn’t even scroll on his phone as he lays on your bed, just watching you move about your room. like he’s trying to peel the truth off of you with his eyes, making you cave from the pressure and admit the worst of his suspicions. 

you try to just ignore him, tidying up your room as a distraction. it’s also so he won’t question it when you empty out your bin. however, your plan is cut short when sudden sharp cramps attack your stomach. dizzy, you collapse into bed, and yunho jumps at the chance to cuddle you. 

“hungover?” he coos, rubbing your sore belly from behind. you nod. “i’ll get you some ibuprofen.”

you curl into yourself, stomach rolling with pain; not paying any mind to yunho as he walks over to your desk, already knowing you keep medicine in the drawer. he tips out the last ibuprofen in the bottle, and walks over to the bin — where he freezes. 

you’re too distracted by the slew of cramps to notice what yunho’s seen. his hand trembles as he crushes the plastic in his hands, staring directly at the box of plan b sitting at the top of your bin, an empty pill packet right next to it. 

that wasn’t there before. he knows, because he anxiously paced your room all night, waiting for you to come home. 

he knew it. he fucking knew it. 

yunho tosses the empty bottle in the bin, running his hands through his hair. he tugs his scalp a few times, trying to ground himself with the sting. to stop the thoughts racing through his head that all scream bloody murder. 

it’s okay. he can forgive you for this. mistakes are human nature, after all. you just need to make it up to him. 

the bed dips when yunho sits down, and your eyes snap open when he says your name. not ‘baby’, your name. his face is solemn, hair mussed again, and panic bolts up your spine as you wonder what the hell happened in the last few seconds. 

yunho reaches for your hand, holding it softly as his gaze falters. he can’t even look you in the eye right now, and it rattles you. 

“there’s something that you deserve to know.” he starts, barely above a whisper. “something that i’ve been too scared to say, for a long time.”

you don’t even want to hear it. you feel like you’re one big breath away from passing out, the cramps mercilessly churning your guts. one wrong look from yunho and you could probably burst into tears. you know it’s only because the pill has kicked in: the pain being a constant reminder of last night, and with yunho right next to you. even still, you don’t regret going all the way with mingi, not for a second. 

yunho goes on, determined. “your father.. when he cheated on eomma, did he ever tell you who it was with?” 

yunho knows for certain that he never did. it’s why you still bother giving his bitch of a best friend the time of day. albeit reluctant, you shake your head, prompting him to continue. yunho takes a deep breath, acting like it hurts him to say this. acting like he’s not over the moon right now, knowing he’ll never have to share you again. 

“mingi’s mother came onto your father” yunho says while he holds your hand. “mingi knew about the affair, but did nothing.”

“....what?”

“he let it happen for years. he could’ve stopped it, he could’ve told someone. but he didn’t. i was the one who told eomma, and that’s when they got divor—”

“what the fuck are you saying??” you yell, trying to rip your hand away but he holds it tighter. “what is this? why are you telling me this right now??”

“it’s the truth, baby. you’ve been so happy since you moved back, i didn’t want to tell you and ruin it for you, but i can’t stand to watch mingi lie to you anymore.” he holds your face, forcing you to look at him as your eyes well up with tears. “he’s the reason our family was torn apart. he’s trying to get close to you again, acting like he’s not the cause for all your suffering.”

“it was my father who cheated,” you interrupt in a brief moment of clarity. “mingi has nothing to do with that—”

“but he helped his mother hide it. for years. do you think he feels guilty, if he’s hanging out with you like nothing happened? if he’s taking advantage of you like his mother did to your father?”

“stop.” you sob, instinctively trying to cover your face but yunho’s quicker — wiping your tears away, stroking your cheeks to console you. “i don’t understand..”

“do you see now, why i didn’t want you around him?” yunho says gently, as if spelling it out for a child. “i was trying to look out for you, baby.”

in a surge of defiance, you rip your face away from his hands, and he looks at you like you’ve just slapped him. 

“i don’t believe you.”

yunho, having expected this, just sighs and pulls his phone out from his pocket. “call him and ask yourself.”

he readily offers you his phone, and you almost don’t take it, put off by how assured he is. his screen is open on their chat, and your chest twists as you read the string of texts, dated from this morning. in the mere minutes after mingi dropped you off around the corner from home. 

[yunho] I’ve had enough of this bullshit.

[yunho] You can go fuck yourself, I’m telling her what you and your mother did to us

[mingi] yunho

[mingi] please don’t

[mingi] i want nothing to do with her, i promise you

[mingi] please don’t say anything

the phone slips from your hands, joining your heart as it plummets to the floor. it’s there in writing. yunho really was protecting you. and mingi was… 

… you can’t bring yourself to admit it. you’re in enough pain from the pill’s side effects, which you’re only bearing because you let him fuck you raw out of love. and he did it, he went through with it, knowing he was already fucking you over this entire time. 

“why?” you croak out, boneless in yunho’s arms as he hugs you. “why would he do that??”

“i don’t know, baby. that’s just the type of person he is.”

“but why?!” you let the waterworks fall freely, your entire heart unravelling into a million tiny pieces. yunho’s there to catch it, kissing each tear from your cheeks. you’d feel comforted by it, if only there was anything left in your heart to be felt. 

yunho kisses dangerously close to the corner of your mouth, and you pull back, suddenly realising how weird this proximity is. 

“i need to see mingi.” you demand. 

yunho clicks his tongue, and it almost feels demeaning. “i saw the plan b in your bin.”

“wh—”

“you want to see him, when he left you to deal with the side effects like this? when he lied the entire time just so he could use you for sex?” he spits out each word like they taste foul, and they all sting you more than the last. 

you want to shake your head, but all the fight has left your body in the tears streaming down to your chin. you just can’t find it in you to refuse yunho anymore. 

“i’ve been there for you, even when you didn’t want me.” he hushes your soft sobs, guiding you back on the pillows and laying down beside you. “i’ve never lied. only tried my best to take care of you.” 

he drapes an arm over your waist, his hand enveloping yours where it holds your cramping belly. yunho massages the area softly, trailing kisses along your hair, the side of your face. you’re broken enough that it’s all working, and you just melt into the comfort that he’s giving you. 

his mouth travels south, kissing along your jaw before reaching your neck. you shiver, sensitive — and you pull back to look at him. he’s looking back, with eyes almost entirely black, cheeks dusted a faint pink. 

you know it before you feel it: he’s turned on. his boner very obviously prods into your back, and the shift in mood is written all over his face. you know he feels this energy between you and is trying to dip his toes into the waters, entice you over to the deep end. you’re so gone that you don’t even care anymore. you let him shift behind you, his length just slightly rubbing into your body and gracing him with the barest friction — enough to have him sighing and leaving another kiss on your neck. 

against your will, old habits stir deep in your core. sex as a coping mechanism was your favourite vice back at the old town. whenever you missed your family too much, whenever you felt too lonely to bear it, you’d let some man inside you long enough to make you forget. sex is the only salve for heartbreak that you’ve ever known. 

softly, you ask him, “why?”

yunho smiles. he can’t help but think you’ve never looked more beautiful than you do now, only because your heart’s broken and he’s all you’ve got to comfort you.

“because i love you.” 

he studies your face, and you make the mistake of letting your eyes drop to his lips. how they’re slightly swollen from all the kisses he’s given you. how he runs his tongue over them under your gaze. your eyes flit back up to his, but it’s too late. you know you’re a goner. 

yunho leans in slowly, very slowly, giving you the time to back up or tell him to stop. it’s as if he’s trying to prove a point, because you never do; and his lips curl into a smirk just before he presses them to yours. gently. 

after a brief moment of shock, you pull away, eyes wide. what felt like a kiss that lasted way too long for you, was nothing but a blip to him. yunho knows he’s a goner too, because he has no hesitation before cupping your face and kissing you harder. 

you squirm at the feeling of unfamiliar lips moving against yours, yunho eagerly parting your mouth with his own and swiping his tongue across your lower lip. you can feel his smirk into the kiss over how your body’s submitting to him. he trails a hand back down, lithe fingers skimming between your breasts, stopping at your tummy — before they crawl under your shirt. 

“let me make it feel better,” he whispers. “please?”

you give him back nothing. he’s sucking your tongue into his mouth, huffing as he coats his lips in your spit, while you’re barely putting in the effort to kiss him back. you want to feel good, you want to feel anything other than this pain — but you refuse to inflate his ego just as much. 

yunho, however, is unbothered. he’ll happily put in all the work. he’s your big brother, it’s his duty to take care of you after all. 

he gently squeezes your waist, softly groaning onto your lips over finally touching your bare skin like this. he inches higher until his fingers tap the underside of your breast. yunho pulls back, looking into your eyes for a reaction, and he chuckles at the scowl you give him. because he knows that means you’re letting him. 

yunho’s hand closes around your breast, and he gives an experimental grope, his insufferable smile growing wider at how your eyes flutter shut. you don’t want to face him that badly? yunho dives back in to kiss you, keeping his tongue buried in your mouth as his fingers expertly work at your breast: swiping, rolling, and pinching the nipple until you’re so lost in the pleasure that you kiss him back. 

he starts to trail kisses south again; pausing before latching his mouth to your neck, and you wonder if he was checking for any hickeys. yunho leaves hot stamps down your jugular as his hands hike your shirt up until the air’s hitting your bare chest. he knows you never wear a bra at home. grinning, yunho continues to pamper your body with kisses, and you hate the goosebumps that arise as his lips graze your nipple. 

everything’s so much more sensitive with your eyes shut. you open them, locking eyes with yunho as he’s already staring directly at you, lolling his tongue out of his mouth. he swirls his tongue around the bud, giving torturously slow licks before closing his lips and sucking. you hold your breath, muffling any noises out of spite. his free hand comes to circle at your other nipple, and your pelvis jolts a little, the stimulation sending shocks straight down to your clit. yunho caught that.

“breathe, baby.” he tells you, and you almost feel sick, remembering mingi’s voice saying that exact same thing. “no need to be shy.” 

the mocking tone, combined with the way his tongue quickly flicks over your nipple, causes you to sharply intake breath and accidentally let out a whimper. yunho gives a pleased hum, switching to the other breast and sloppily kissing the sensitive bud. you let yourself loose — it does feel really fucking good, and it’s easier to just succumb than fight your own body. you moan freely for him, burying your hands in his hair and tugging hard enough to hurt. yunho only moans right back at you. of course he doesn’t mind pain. 

now that you’re being responsive, yunho’s self-control is rapidly chipping away. without warning he aims for your pants, tugging the garment down your thighs to expose your panties. you don’t even react; you feel as if you’re half detached from your body, your mind tuned in solely to the sensations of pleasure that yunho’s giving you. perhaps so you don’t have to confront the absurdity of the circumstances. 

yunho cups over your crotch, his eyes glinting at the soaked fabric under his fingers. even if you try to claim you’re not enjoying this — your body’s telling a different story entirely. he presses his hand in, and you whine at the pressure. your panties are thin where they’re stuck to the skin, and his palm offers delicious friction as he grinds it against your clit. 

yunho’s so entirely enamoured with you right now. he’s indecisive as he goes between kissing your lips and then ravaging your neck, his teeth nipping and his tongue soothing. you spur him on as you let all your whimpers spill into his ears, your hips chasing the drag of his palm against your clit.

you take notice of his boner pressed into your leg, and you’re a little stunned as you realise the size — as well as the fact that he’s keeping still. choosing to please you and ignoring his own arousal as if he has all the time in the world. 

you gasp as his fingers run over your pussy, coating the tips in your slick. you must be really out of it, since you hadn’t even realised he pulled your panties to the side. he dips his pointer to the first knuckle into your pussy, just to feel inside, and you clench around him before he pulls back with a hiss. 

“god i want you.” he chuckles, two fingers swiping up and coming to draw digit eights on your clit. “you’re so beautiful, baby.”

you grimace through the whimper that slips out. his sweetness sits bitter on your tongue, just at the thought of how everything nice he’s done for you may have just been building to this. 

“you want me?” you ask him, defiance crawling back up into your tone. “when did that start?”

yunho simply smiles. you’re so cute, trying to act like he’s not actively getting you off. “does it matter?” he retorts, bringing his other hand down to slip two digits into your hole. you choke on a moan as they curl up and instantly find your g-spot, his other fingers still circling your clit. 

you’re still sore from last night, your pussy burning with the pleasure as yunho fucks his fingers directly into the spot that has your stomach in knots. yunho’s in awe of how wrecked you are under him right now: your breasts rapidly rising and falling, your thighs feebly trying to shut his hands out, the slope of your neck wet with blooming hickeys. he can’t help but want to mark every inch of your body, to smother any traces of that fucker he should’ve never called a best friend. 

you cry out as yunho latches his mouth to a nipple again — feverishly trying to suck a bruise right on the bud. it’s all too overwhelming, and his hands are working at you so expertly, attentive to your most sensitive spots and the movements that have you trembling. it’s almost methodical as his rhythm switches between teasingly slow and ruthlessly quick. his long fingers curl deep into your g-spot, the others circling your clit the way you do to yourself. 

so much for the quiet nerd you grew up with — it’s obvious that he’s had his hands on enough girls to know his way around a pussy. he knows exactly what to do, and he does it really well, it’s no wonder that heat coils in your lower belly dangerously quick. you almost don’t want to cum, out of spite as your chest aches with jealousy. you can’t help it though: it hurts to hold your orgasm back, teetering on oversensitivity as both his hands keep working your pussy. 

yunho adds a third finger, pushing the digits in until the tip of his middle finger grazes your cervix, and your orgasm comes gushing around his hand. he watches with wonder as your pussy flutters around his knuckles, fingering you as deep as he can reach while rubbing your clit through it. he draws it out as long as he can, only stopping his movements when your knees close around his arms, pussy long past sensitive. 

yunho tuts as he reluctantly pulls his hand back, slowly dragging each knuckle against your walls to have you whimpering before his fingers release with a wet squelch. you think you can finally catch your breath, before yunho’s prying your legs apart and slotting himself in the space between them, dragging your panties the rest of the way down.

“just want a taste.” he murmurs, and you squirm as his hot breath hits your clit. “i haven’t waited this long to not taste you.”

you want to frown over what he’s just suggested, though you’re overtaken with a full body jolt as his tongue runs through your folds. a moan rumbles on your clit as your slick floods his mouth, and you can only whimper at how raw you still feel from your release. it feels so good that it hurts, yunho pushing you into overstimulation as his lips close around your pussy. you try to rip him up by the scruff of his hair, to suffocate him as your thighs clamp around the sides of his neck, but he just groans through it — licking you harder as you hurt him. 

he forces your legs back open, holding them down to the bed as you attempt to kick at him. tears fill your lashes, overstimulated and helpless as yunho eats you out like a rabid dog, right until you’re crying out into yet another orgasm. 

your hips barely raise from the bed as he keeps you pinned down, your vision whiting out from the unbearable pleasure, yunho refusing to slow down for even a second. by the time you come back down, you’re all but smacking his head to get him off. 

yunho chuckles, looking like the proudest man alive as he props himself up on his knees, chin completely smeared in your arousal. you rub at your stomach with shaky fingers. it aches again, you hadn’t realised how hard you were tensing it. you also hadn’t realised the pain ever subsided in the first place. 

yunho coos at you, his large hand enveloping yours. “does it still hurt, baby?”

you glance down, eyes falling on the large stain of precum where his cock tents his sweats. you gulp — he really is long everywhere. as much as it fucking kills the last shred of your dignity to admit.. you want it. so god help you, you do. 

you tip your head almost imperceptibly in a nod. yunho catches it, because of course he does, and his face splits into the brightest grin you’ve ever seen him sport. you’d almost find it cute, if only you weren’t about to go through with the most fucked up choice in your life. 

you shove that train of thought into the deepest pits of your brain. it can crawl out in time for regrets later. all you want right now is to fill this emptiness inside with pleasure, and yunho has delivered on that more than enough. he’s almost got you greedy for more, chasing that brief moment again in which your mind goes blank and nothing but bliss flows through your body. 

the bed squeaks as yunho stands up. he tugs his shirt off and drops his sweats to the floor, walking over to your bedside table in nothing but his boxers. wordlessly, he squats to pull out the bottom drawer, and rips open the box of condoms in there. you don’t even bother asking how he knows you have them. he really is a fucking weirdo. 

yunho tears the packet with his teeth as he walks back over to bed, and you almost frown at how your pussy throbbed at the sight. yunho stands by the edge, reaching out to knead your ass. condom between his fingers, yunho can’t help himself to gripping his cock through the fabric, sighing out as his eyes feast on your naked body. 

“roll over for me?” he asks, gently nudging your thigh. his eyes flick up to yours, and you fold at how enlarged his pupils are. it makes you remember just how much yunho adores you. 

he’s never hidden how much he loves his sister, his baby, always being affectionate and loud about it. you can only wonder where that pure feeling twisted into.. this. maybe it was never pure to begin with. maybe, yunho can’t tell the difference. 

you roll over for him, laying flat on your tummy and turning your head to the side to watch him strip from his boxers. your eyes widen at the brief sight of his dick as it slaps against his stomach before he’s straddling you within the next second; his knees bracketing your thighs, a hand eagerly groping your ass as the other slips the condom on. 

yunho wanted you from behind not just because it’s his favourite, but because he knows mingi wouldn't have taken you like this. he seems like the hand-holding, sappy missionary type. yunho could easily be that for you, too, if that’s how you like your boys. but not right now — right now, he wants to be a little selfish. to see you in a position mingi didn’t. to fuck you in a different and better way. 

yunho sighs in relief as his tip prods your entrance, wasting no time in inching his hips forward. yunho’s slimmer than mingi, so you take him with ease, encouraging him with soft hums as he buries his cock into you. however — his length pushes past further than you were prepared for, and you muffle a gasp into the bed as he bottoms out, his tip pressed against your cervix. just longer than mingi. 

even if he’s not splitting you open, yunho’s spearing you right where it’s most sensitive. it’s almost an uncomfortable fit, and you deliberately clench down to entice him to move out. yunho pushes you further into the bed with a hand on your back, anchoring himself before he starts to grind his hips forward. the head of his cock rolls into your cervix as he pushes in as far as he can, and you cry out his name as a plea. he pulls out swiftly at that, his hand rubbing your hips to soothe you. you can’t see it, but he’s grinning like a maniac. 

“did i hurt you? baby, i didn’t mean to..”

you can feel how his cock pulses against your ass. the motherfucker enjoyed it. he didn’t even bother saying sorry because he’s not. 

patience running thin, you tilt your head to snap at him: “just hurry up and get it over with.” 

most people would probably have second thoughts hearing that, but most people would also rather kill themselves than imagine being in yunho’s position — burying his cock into his stepsister. all he hears is that you’re just as excited as he is to be having sex at long last. 

yunho pushes back in, breath breaking off into groan as your pussy flutters around him. it’s as if you’re trying to make him cum quickly. fortunately for the both of you, he’s got excellent stamina. 

he angles his pelvis just right before snapping his hips, and you moan out at how he hits your g-spot directly — setting a fast pace as he fucks you right there over and over. it’s just like when you’re drunk, the way your head spins and floats away from your body. nothing but pure ecstasy coursing through your veins. it’s all you ever wish to feel all the time. 

“shit, i knew it, you’re perfect.” yunho huffs out above you. “do you feel good, baby?”

you’re conscious enough to not want to answer him out of spite. you want to focus solely on your own pleasure, to simply take what you’re given as yunho relentlessly rams into your g-spot. he’s so cocky — he’s made you cum twice, it doesn’t take a fucking genius to figure out that yes, he’s good at sex.

he can tell you’re defying him, so he makes it a point to angle a thrust into your cervix, shuffling you up the bed from the force in it. you bite down on your lip, not wanting to give him the grace of hearing you. 

“shy again, hm?” he teases, giving your ass a light slap. “i just want you to tell me, please.” he wedges a hand under your stomach, reaching until his fingers tap your clit. he rubs once, and you moan out in shock, your eyes rolling back into your head from the oversensitivity. 

“yes! it’s good,” you half-sob, half-whine, trying to wriggle away from his touch. you think you might pass out if you cum again. 

luckily, yunho relents, chuckling lowly as he retracts his hand. he puts all his energy back into fucking you to the best of his abilities, because what good was any of his prior meaningless encounters if not practice for the only one that matters, you? 

your eyes well up again, the sensations being so overwhelming but exactly what you wanted. you can’t feel anything past your hips with all the hot pleasure blooming from your gut, yunho fucking into places your own fingers can’t even reach. distantly, you wonder how long it’ll take him to cum, before his cock twitches violently. 

yunho collapses on top of you, sitting his chin on your shoulder. he snakes a hand around your neck and cranes your head to stare back into his wild eyes. 

“say my name.” he demands, pushing his length all the way in until a stabbing pang lights up your cervix. 

“yunho.” you squeak out, struggling to keep your eyes open as he grinds up into your damn guts. 

“not that one, shit—” there’s another twitch, and you wince with how deep he’s pressed. “the other one.” he urges you. “say— ah, shit!”

he slips his cock out instantly, sucking in a sharp breath to stave off his orgasm, but it doesn’t matter as you understand and whimper out: 

“yuyu.”

“fuck, baby—”

you gasp as he roughly fucks into you like a man possessed, chasing his release with frantic thrusts. the pain pulses right along with pleasure, but you just moan with him through it as he fills you to the hilt. 

yunho pulls out at the very last second, ripping the condom off before he’s shooting out his release, warm ropes of cum coating your ass. that very gesture is what immediately snaps you out of the lust-filled haze. if he was planning to cum on you, that means he only wore protection so that he doesn’t.. catch something. 

upset, you prop yourself up by the elbows and twist your upper body to snap at him: “you’re a fucking asshole.” 

yunho chuckles, too high off that once in a lifetime orgasm to care. “seems like you don’t mind this asshole, hm?” as if to prove a point, he dips a finger into your pussy, and you clench around him. he laughs as you kick him away. 

you curl up into a ball on your bed, the post-sex clarity sinking like nails hammered into your bones. you wish the sheets would just open up and swallow you whole. meanwhile, yunho doesn’t bother tying the condom up before dropping it directly onto the plan b box in the bin, smirking as his cum leaks onto it. 

yunho retrieves the wet wipes you keep in your room, pulling his boxers back on before walking over to sit by your huddled form. you don’t even move as he presses the wipe to your skin and cleans up after himself — letting him turn you this way and that like a ragdoll as you space out at the wall. 

afterwards, yunho snuggles up right next to you, pulling the blanket up both of your bodies. briefly, you feel glad that he didn’t just leave you. his long arms wrap around you from behind, and he presses a sweet kiss to your head. a million dollar smile carved onto his face. 

“i love you, baby.” 

you don’t say it back, pretending to already be asleep as he plays with your hair.

──

for the first time in an entire day, yunho’s detached himself from your side. he left you with a kiss on the forehead, explaining that hongjoong was having some type of emergency. you could tell that he wanted to drag you along, hard-launch you as his girl in whatever yunho type of way he was thinking…but, you’re in no shape to be around other people right now. you’ve been a mess, and you only let yunho around you because he’s more than happy to clean it up. 

you’ve returned to the point of wearing loneliness like a second skin, and you miss yunho as soon as he’s gone. perhaps not him specifically, but in the way that you’ll take any company to not be left alone with your thoughts — your regrets. 

while doomscrolling in bed, a sudden knock at your window startles you. you sit up in bed at the sight before you, blinking furiously to prove that you’re not imagining things. but nope, that’s really mingi, looking like he’s struggling to balance as he shyly waves at you through the glass. 

before you can think it you’re crossing the room over, lifting the window up in its frame. mingi collapses forward, his arms grasping onto the sill. 

“what the fuck are you doing?!” 

“‘scuse me,” he wheezes, out of breath. “i, uh, climbed.”

you crane your neck out of the window and, sure enough, he’s fucking balancing on the side of your house. the garbage bin’s positioned below him, and he must’ve jumped on it to hoist himself up, just like when he would when you were kids. 

when he didn’t want yunho to know he was seeing you. 

you grab his arm, helping to pull him inside. you’re not about to just let him fall after coming all this way. you’re relieved to see mingi, warmth swelling in your chest as he finds his footing in your room, before the memory of yesterday dawns on you. anger boils higher, rising to your face where it burns your nostrils before tears dot your lashes. you’re still angry with mingi, but also with yourself for how you retaliated. resistance is long gone from your body, yunho made sure of that; so, you hear mingi out. 

you slump down onto your bed, waiting for his next move, and mingi gulps at how empty your eyes are. the last time he saw you, they were overflowing with love. it clenches his heart to consider what you’ve been going through while he hasn’t been here to comfort you. 

mingi sincerely drops to his knees, hand pressed to his heart. “i am so, so sorry. yunho’s been sending me these texts, and— god, i was so worried about you.” he runs a hand through his hair, getting your full attention as he says your name. “you don’t have to hear me out if you don’t want to. i’ll leave if you tell me to. but i need you to know that i’m sorry, and i’m willing to explain everything.”

your stomach twists at how broken he looks. you so badly want to get on the floor with him, hug him and tell him he could never do wrong. 

“go on.”

mingi lets out the breath he was holding, nodding and quietly thanking you. he wouldn’t blame you if you just kicked him to the street. 

“yunho told you all of it?” he asks, barely above a whisper. you nod, and his eyes shut like you’ve just slapped him. “...there’s no excuse. you have every right to hate me for it. i was a coward. i shouldn’t have just.. blindly followed him.”

you blink. “what?”

“yunho. i should’ve come to you instead, but i was terrified of hurting you, and—”

“what do you mean?” you cut in. “he said that you hid it from us for years. that you were…helping your mother.”

mingi blanches in complete disbelief. “yunho told me to hide it. i went to him as soon as i found out something was going on, and he just.. said that it’s not my family, not my business.” he grabs at his hair, shell-shocked. “he said that to you?.. i was so scared, and i didn’t want to lose any of the people i love…god, what was i supposed to do?”

your heart breaks at his utter confusion, his panic. this isn’t the shame of a man who harboured malicious intent. all you see kneeling on your floor right now is a young boy, finding out something that would destroy the life of the girl he loves, and without knowing better he listens when his best friend tells him to hide it. 

where there was once rage directed towards mingi, floods with nothing but sympathy. you were only kids — he had no say in his grown mother choosing to homewreck, nor did he for your father choosing to cheat. none of what occurred between your families was mingi’s fault. if you were in his position, you don’t know what you’d do either. 

you almost don’t want to say it, because then you’ll have to confront the gravity of yesterday’s choices, the fact that you wronged the boy you love so deeply. but you need him to know, so, you just push yourself to say: 

“it wasn’t your fault, mingi.” your lip trembles, and you catch the way he shifts. “it’s not right to put the blame on you. you have nothing to apologise for.”

mingi gets up, this distance between you killing him alive, and he quickly closes it. standing in front you. hands twitching at his sides, desperately wishing to hold you again. “i’ll never stop feeling sorry for what happened to you.” he murmurs your name brokenly. “i only want you to be happy.. even if it’s not with me.”

your head drops, biting your lip to distract your body from the tears threatening to spill. mingi’s helpless to how his fingers find your cheek, trying to comfort you in any way you’ll let him. he feels your pain bloom in his own chest. 

“it’s too late, mingi.” bile rising in your throat, you force yourself to say: “yunho fucked me. and i wanted it.” 

the very day after letting mingi call you ‘mine’. after leading him to believe that you’d be his girlfriend. essentially cheating on him — like father, like daughter.

“what?” you brace yourself for him to be disgusted, to insult you. you’d deserve it. you want it even. but he just grabs your face with both hands, searching your eyes. “are you okay??” 

“no, i’m—” you try to writhe from his grip, “i’m gross, mingi.”

“you’re not.” he’s quick to refute. his fingers stroke your cheeks so gently, and you just cave. “i don’t care about that. i’m here because i was worried about you.”

you shake your head. a feeble effort to push him away. “why? i didn’t even hear you out first before going behind your back. i wronged you.” 

“yunho took advantage of this situation in the only way he could.” he scowls. “i can’t believe he really stooped this low… god, i should’ve cut him off years ago.” 

mingi sets his own heartache aside, knowing that it must be nothing compared to what you’ve been feeling. he’s already suspected yunho for years now — his best friend really was a freak who wanted his own sister. 

you’re still knee-deep in denial, too scared to face the truth yet. the fact that you still wanted yunho despite it all.

“maybe he just told me how it was from his perspective,” you defend. “he only wanted to protect me.. and then make it feel better.” 

mingi’s frown deepens. it fucking guts him, seeing how deep yunho sunk his claws into you. he’s already wronged you enough times with his own cowardice, holding back on telling the ugly truth just so he doesn’t have to be the one delivering your pain. deciding to put an end to this, mingi exhales your name, and tilts your chin to stare him directly in the eyes. 

“yunho hid the fact that you moved back from me. he called you his girl and not his sister at that party when he threw the bottle at me. he’s so touchy that people think you’re dating, and he lets them. he couldn’t stand the fact that you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, so he broke your heart and used it to finally get what he wanted.” 

you don’t even realise you’re crying until mingi’s leaving soft pecks on your face, kissing away each tear. 

“i’m not mad at you.” he gently reassures you. “none of this was your fault.” 

“i’m sorry.” you whimper brokenly. “i hurt you, mingi. i’m sorry.” 

“it’s okay.” he smiles. “i deserved this, anyways.” 

“no. it’s not fair for you to feel so guilty because of something you had no control over.” 

“funny, i could tell you the same.” 

it catches you off-guard, so much so that you breathe out a laugh, lip curling into a smile. 

despite the vines of shame and grief knotted tight in your gut, you can just feel the faint flap of butterflies at the sight of mingi smiling right back. he’s proud of himself, getting you to smile after tears. 

your fingers curl around his hand on your face, and he closes his palm to hold it. something flickers across mingi’s eyes before he gulps. 

“i’m sorry i don’t want to pressure you, but i can only think of kissing you right now.” 

you giggle before pulling him in, your heart skipping into beat with his as his lips melt against yours. he holds you like you’re fragile, kissing you gently like you still might disappear into thin air, nothing but a dream. 

he parts with you, sighing. “i don’t want this to end, but.. i’m on a time limit.” he clears his throat. “i, uh, asked hongjoong to do me a favour so that i could come see you.” 

that makes you laugh, falling forward into his chest. mingi wraps his arms around you, and immediately you feel like you’re back home safe. as if you never left. 

“want me to take you somewhere far away?” he offers, just like old times. you agree, tugging him in for another sweet kiss. 

──

yunho’s knuckles tighten around the controller as the game lights up with a red death screen. huffing in annoyance, he passes the controller to mingi, who respawns and plays his turn. ever since yunho loaded up his console, there hadn’t been any words. not after the disrespect that was mingi’s arrival. 

he’d showed up on their doorstep after school unannounced, sparing yunho — his best friend — only a brief greeting before going straight for you.

you’d let his hopes down, saying that you were already on your way out, your father about to drive you to the cinema to meet up with minnie. mingi gave you sad puppy eyes, and didn’t even pretend to not be bummed as he settled for hanging out with yunho instead. hence the current lack of conversation. 

“do you have a crush on my sister?” yunho asks outright, breaking the silence. 

mingi stammers like he’s been caught with his hand down his pants. “w-what? why do— what, uh— no i don’t?” 

yunho stifles a roll of his eyes. his best friend is a bad liar. he’s only thirteen, but he knows what’s in the look that mingi gives his sister. it’s the same look his mother gives his stepfather — the same look his stepfather has been giving mingi’s mother as of late. 

“you can give up trying. it’s never going to happen.” yunho deadpans.

your father already dislikes how close you are with mingi — it wouldn’t work out between you. maybe even less than it could work between you and yunho, some day. 

mingi pouts, his character dying ingame as he stares at yunho instead. 

“why?” 

yunho smirks and rips the controller from his hands. 

“because she’s mine.” 

yunho can’t stop smiling to himself as he sits in the middle of your bed, pulling the blankets to his nose and smelling the traces of all the love that happened yesterday. 

he can’t even find it in himself to be upset that you left him for mingi again. he’s at the very top of cloud nine right now, still riding the high of finally getting the one thing he’s wished for since he was a kid — after being introduced to his sweet stepsister for the first time. 

mingi’s always been an annoyingly persistent competition. he’s the only other person who figured out the way yunho wanted you, as more than just family. no one would believe him anyways.

yunho falls back into the pillows, love on his mind and in his heart as he daydreams about you. all the things he still wants to do, that he intends to do when he gets his baby back. because he will. 

it won’t be tomorrow, or any day soon, but you’ll give up on avoiding him with time. family is for life, after all. 

notes: what a wild ride amirite.. if you’ve read this far, consider reblogging or leaving a comment/ask! i’d love to hear your thoughts hehe

in this day and age of hook-up culture, of getting lucky with nothing but a few swipes on your phone, it’s far too easy to just deceive your way into scoring some.

men are liars, and they all claim the same thing these days: they’re a munch, they can go until the sunrise, you’ll feel it in your kidney, they’re a feminist, etc… of course, it’s not until those men slide in dry after rubbing straight flap then cumming in three strokes before those poor women realise: a man will claim anything under the sun if it means you’ll fuck him.

although mingyu can relate to the desperation to get laid, he’s not so shameless that he’d just bullshit his way into someone’s pants. at that point you don’t even deserve it. he’ll stick by his true character even if he’s on the brink of insanity from lack of action. in saying that, what makes mingyu superior to thy neighbour is not just the fact that he only ever speaks the truth — but also in regards to the absurd cock size he’s been blessed with. 

through google searches of the average length not just in his country but the whole globe, triple takes from other men in public bathhouses, dick pics sent to talking stages and unsolicited dick pics sent to him — mingyu’s come to the conclusion that he’s bigger than average. to put it humbly, really.

at soft, he can make a few head turns at the least. at half-hard he’s got the size that most men lie about having. and when he’s fully erect, he should probably register his cock as a weapon. 

mingyu’s been told that his body’s sculpted like a greek god, complete with zeus’ lightning rod in his pants. he’s got the cock that the top gets in yaoi with ridiculously drawn proportions, the cock that gets spray-painted as graffiti on a cheating ex’s car. mingyu’s big to the point where it’s like okay, can we be serious, like this is doing too much. 

he’s been told by men and women alike that he could make a living off of his size. ah, what a dream that’d be. taking dick pics (maybe some feet in there too) to pay the bills. having fame and money and pussy for doing nothing but exist with a completely natural, albeit monstrously sized cock. 

he can forget about that ever happening though. it sounds like a dream because it is. nevermind being god’s favourite — mingyu’s starting to believe he must’ve signed a contract with the devil in his past life, because what good is a big dick if you’ve only got yourself to fuck? 

it’s a bad joke, really. all these inches and a pretty face but nowhere to use it. he’s only gotten laid enough times to count on one hand without lifting a thumb, and all instances had punctuated years worth of drought. 

size doesn’t matter, and he knows that firsthand. when he lost his virginity, he came the instant he slid into his girlfriend, who just said “that’s it?” then broke up with him. he’s had next to no luck landing any girls since that pitiful first, let alone getting one to stay. 

he knows he’s not exactly fucking like a pornstar, but his same absurd size is actually what’s holding him back. there’s been times when his cock getting hard for a girl has him on verge of fainting, just from all the fucking blood the monster in his pants needs to get up. then after some mediocre stroke game, the force of orgasming has him seeing literal glimpses of heaven.

despite the physical toll, in some pitiful moments of doubt he even began to question if he’s been lied to his entire life about his size — if it’s not earning him a text back because it’s actually pretty average. that is, until his best friend literally readjusted his glasses in shock the first time he saw mingyu naked. 

mingyu might be getting less action than an actual virgin. he’s since long forgotten how a pussy feels since becoming besties with his imagination and left hand — and it’s gotten to the point that the feel of his same old, boring palm can barely spark any pleasure. he may as well be rubbing off his ankle. 

the porn on page 1 to page 847 has no difference in how utterly useless it is when he needs help getting off. switching to his non-dominant hand, humping the mattress, buying a pocket pussy, watching fetish content on places he wouldn’t even go with a gun — all of it, useless. futile. 

he needs the real thing, warm and tight and living. he needs to get laid before he does something drastic and his face is plastered on every news channel … okay maybe not that far but he fears it really is that serious. all these extra inches means he’s got an extra intense libido to match, and nothing but extra extra bad luck when it comes to finding means of relieving it. 

one sunny day he rants about all of this to his roommate and best friend wonwoo, who nods over a steaming bowl of shin ramyun.

“i see.” wonwoo hums. “you’re not asking to fuck me, are you?”

“bro. fuck off.” mingyu groans, dropping his head to the table with a thunk. “you know what? yeah, i might if i don’t get laid soon.”

“well, i’m not a bottom, so unless you want to take it up the ass.” wonwoo shrugs, slurping down a mouthful of noodles without even chewing. (seriously, why does he do that?)

“don’t you have single friends? discord kittens? can’t you hook up a brother in desperate need? i’m losing vision in one eye with how pussy-deprived i am.”

wonwoo readjusts his glasses. “i do know some girls but.. you’d be okay with having my sloppy seconds?”

“forget i even asked man.” mingyu rolls his eyes, kicking his chair out from the table with a loud scrape on the floorboards. “i’m having a shower. need to jerk off before i hit something. or you.”

after a pitiful, rage-induced wank sesh under the hot stream of water (also a few stray tears shed), mingyu was pulling his boxers on when the door swung open.

“are you still on any dating sites?” wonwoo asked casually, ignoring how half of his best friend’s ass was still hanging out as he barged in. 

“no, i deleted my tinder after that one girl who set my nudes as her profile picture.”

“okay cool. try this one out.” wonwoo handed his phone over, open on the browser.

www.dtf.com

mingyu scrunched his face. “down to fuck dot com?”

ah, so a matchmaking site that doesn’t pretend to be about any ‘finding your soulmate’ bullshit and is unapologetically straight to the point: we’re all single and here to fuck. 

“can’t imagine you look for anything serious on here.” he snickers. 

“well no, it’s in the name. are you?” 

mingyu scratched his neck. truthfully, a girlfriend would be ideal but… beggars can’t be choosers. 

he shrugged. “whatever happens.” 

inspecting the rest of the site, he clicked to view wonwoo’s profile — then whistled at the suggestive set of photos displayed on his best friend’s page. 

Wonwoo A giver, most of the time. AGE: 25 HEIGHT: 6 ft SIZE: 8 in. LOOKING FOR: Female, Submissive INTERESTED IN: BDSM, Brat Taming, Humiliation, Degradation, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Impact Play, Daddy Kink, Sir Kink, Pet Play, Toys, Anal… [Show More] 

“you like being called ‘daddy’?” mingyu snickered. 

“yeah bro. e-girls flock to me like birds, that’s how i get so many over.” wonwoo replies with a smart-ass smirk. “they grip your dick like you’re gonna leave them.”

“….that’s just not what i asked, man.” 

safe to say, mingyu was sold. he promptly had his own account set up, then took close to an hour meticulously choosing the thirst trap images for his profile.

Mingyu Hey (with the intention of begging on my knees) AGE: 24 HEIGHT: 6’2  SIZE: 12 in. LOOKING FOR: Female INTERESTED IN: Vanilla, Missionary

when mingyu showed wonwoo the final product with a satisfied smile, his best friend burst out laughing. 

“are these the default options or something?” wonwoo asked, pointing to mingyu’s barren interests section. 

“bro, i’m just looking to get laid. doesn’t need to be any more complex than that.” mingyu pouted. “unlike you, i don’t need a girl to wear a cat tail butt plug and meow for me to get off.” 

“that sounds hot.” 

it does. “freak ass..” 

after leaving his best friend with the middle finger and then setting his profile to public for matchmaking, within mere minutes women were indeed flocking to him, much like birds. 

mingyu spent all night marvelling at his phone like a kid in a candy store — giggling as he sifted through profiles, kicking his feet as he chatted with women basically throwing themselves at him. 

despite wonwoo making fun of him, it seemed that his only interests being ‘vanilla’ had actually worked in his favour, since he had countless women from all different shades of kinks asking if he was open-minded. the one thing they all had in common though, from the bratty subs to the dominatrixes, was one burning question: is it really that big? 

and oh, he’s been more than happy to prove it; snapping a quick, shaky photo of the visible bulge in his calvin kleins and watching as all the phone numbers and addresses and nudes roll in like waves.

he hasn’t taken anyone up on their offers to meet up, not just yet. call him an attention whore, but he’s had years worth of yearning for this, dreaming about this, even crying in the shower after jerking off over this. these days it’s hard enough trying to reach an orgasm even with every tool in his arsenal — and yet he’s been laying here, chatting away with a lifetime’s supply worth of women, while being so turned on he’s basically blue-ballsing himself. 

ah, he could get used to this. this could even prove to be a little too dangerous. maybe he really was destined to be a pornstar, and him having no luck climbing out of bitchless purgatory was just the universe’s way of restoring natural balance. no one man should have all this power. 

the attention goes straight to his head, leaves him feeling high off of it. leaves him on cloud nine with a painfully hard cock.

ding.

leaves him with a harsh comedown that hits like a kick in the balls.

when he clicks to open the uncalled-for dm, mingyu can feel his boner go a quarter of the way back down just from the shock. what the hell does that mean? do you think he’s a bot, clickbaiting? but he put so much effort and care into choosing the right photos for his profile…

….is it really so unbelievable that he’s only looking for vanilla sex?

oh. okay. so everyone he’s chatted with so far may as well have been shy, considering how forward you are straight off the bat. not even a hello, how are you, my name is… just “i call bullshit, show me that dick.”

alright then. he can play ball.

mingyu tugs his boxers down his thighs, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach, even at only somewhat hard. he’ll need to get it all the way back it up if he’s going to prove it to you.

he has a full-body shiver when his hand grazes the tip, just from how on edge he’s been; smearing precum across his palm before his fingers curl around in a loose grip.

he’ll need something to jerk off to, and well, since your profile is there….

shit. it’s more than enough. you’re like, really fucking pretty. hot, gorgeous, panty-dropping and cock-raising. so pretty he actually feels a little guilty as his hand starts to stroke his cock, but hey, you’ll get him fully hard in no time.

mingyu swipes through the array of photos on your page, each one more revealing than the last, fist steadily pumping his length. it jumps between his fingers when he settles on a photo of you in white lingerie: the lace hugging your curves perfectly, plush lip bitten between your teeth, hands cupping the underside of your breasts and lifting them on full display.

it’s not until a fresh spurt of precum leaks over his knuckles that mingyu remembers he’s supposed to be taking a picture of his boner as proof, and not just… jerking off for the sake of it.

he has to literally rip his hand away, lower belly already coiled dangerously tight. he can’t remember the last time a girl in real life got him this hard and this fast.

shuffling closer to the mirror, he sits on the edge of the bed and holds his cock upright with one hand, the other holding his phone right next to it — as comparison, of course.

he holds his breath as he sends it through.

well, his stomach sank for a moment there, but he quickly recovers. mingyu lays back on the bed, running his palm up and over his length, just absentmindedly playing with himself as his jelly fingers type out a reply.

he’s quick to navigate back to your profile, cock reacting with a pulse as his eyes land on your face again like it missed you already.

he doesn’t even think about it this time: just gets completely lost in the sight before him, in the feel of his fist fucking him. until a ding cuts through the tunnel vision, your chat notification lighting up the top of his screen. the only thing that could tear his attention away from the softcore porn on your profile.

damn. guilty.

he feels his cheeks heating up a little. the fuck? you’ve got his grown ass blushing through the phone. either you’re a seasoned pro at turning men to putty, or mingyu’s just that out of the element.

his mind’s turning to complete mush at this point; tuned in solely to your pretty face and body, to your vulgar mouth. imagination drifting to the feel of your skin under the pads of his fingers, of your lips stretched over the head of his—

shit, he almost came.

mingyu nearly drops his phone as he fumbles to the camera app, shakily filming himself in the mirror as his hand goes to fucking town on his cock. his mouth’s even fouler than yours with all the whiney huffs and puffs pouring from his throat.

he’s not sure if the footage is long enough or even good enough but he also doesn’t care; sending it straight through to you while not missing a beat in jerking himself off.

he throws his head back on the bed with a tortured groan, back arching off the bed as his hips chase the circle of his fist with a mind of their own. he can’t recall the last time masturbating felt this fucking good, the last time it took such a short span of time for him to reach an orgasm.

the last time he was able to forget that the hand around his cock is his own — nothing but your face, that body, those curves behind his lids when he screws his eyes shut.

and just the mere thought that you could be touching yourself too? to the videos of mingyu touching himself, oh fuck…

mingyu winces as his grip tightens until it hurts, fist strangling the fucking life out of his cock. he squeezes until he literally feels the tidal wave of his orgasm receding, the hot pressure under his abs fading into sharp, demanding pulses of his cock.

why did he even say that shit? man, talk about being pussy drunk. he can just manage to feel the weight of shame pressing into his chest over the ache throbbing between his thighs.

if he really did fumble a chance as good as this, a girl as hot as you, he doesn’t even deserve to cum. maybe he should just start embracing the involuntarily celibate life..

to his surprise, another ding from you interrupts his pitiful — while still fully erect — wallowing.

much like a well-trained dog, you don’t have to tell him twice.

mingyu puts on a whole ass show for you. sits upright in bed, films his entire upper body to ensure no twitch or contraction of his sweat-slick abs was left out of frame.

he’s sure the speed of his hand gives away just how long he’s gone without getting laid, but mingyu can’t find it in himself to feel much shame at all now that you’ve offered a chance to remedy that up on a silver platter.

he cums obnoxiously: throwing his head back, adam’s apple bobbing with each shameless moan falling from his mouth; grinding his hips up into his ruthless fist like he’s fucking into someone; a hefty load spurting all over his pretty toned torso, your name slipping from his lips.

before the post-nut clarity can settle in, he sends the raw footage straight through to his patiently waiting audience.

mingyu was so ecstatic that he didn’t even bother to clean up properly, just quickly wiped himself with a tissue before skipping into wonwoo’s room and dapping his best friend up in celebration.

(his reaction being “bro you smell like cum.”)

after leaving dtf.com behind in a matter of hours and moving over to messages, a date was promptly established. being, a date as in the day, because there wasn’t going to be any conversing over dinner or fondling during a movie.

it’s becoming increasingly clear to mingyu that he really struck a pot of gold in you, since you were both on the same page about this: fuck first, talk later.

if you were to go on a date prior, mingyu knows good and damn well that he’d just be sporting a massive pitch in his pants throughout the entire thing; way too excited for his own good over the knowledge that he’s finally getting laid after.

the stars aligned to both of your schedules being open just two days from now. while the anticipation is sure to strangle him alive, he’s able to give wonwoo notice that he’s kicking him out for the day, and to prepare.

in the limited sexual encounters under his belt, mingyu can’t say for certain that he’s actually made a girl cum. unlike men, there isn’t exactly a visual indicator. his size alone could’ve been enough to get them off, sure. but when it comes to you, he doesn’t want to repeat that flustered fumbling; rubbing what he assumes is the clit based off of what he also assumes is genuine moans. his mouth hasn’t even graced a pussy before, isn’t that crazy?

those girls didn’t want anything other than to feel his cock in them, though — letting him touch for a few seconds before insisting that was enough foreplay. hence why he’s never learned.

you, however, like to play with your food. over texts you’ve been teasing the hell out of him, intent on finding out the limits of his desperation — and pleased to find there is none. he will genuinely do anything just to get a sliver of that pussy, and you only want him more because of it.

mingyu knows your expectations aren’t exactly high, but he doesn’t want to risk disappointing you so badly that you won’t sleep with him again. and if he can exceed your expectations, maybe you’d be open to being something more exclusive….

he’s a romantic at heart, okay?

of course, he had to seek out his most trusted elders for advice.

two torturously long days later, mingyu receives your “on the way” text and is pushing wonwoo out the door within the next second. 

“don’t be back until tonight, just in case.” 

“eh, you won’t last that long.” wonwoo shrugged. mingyu rolls his eyes, and wonwoo just slaps him on the back, pulling him into one of those side-hugs men do. “condoms are in my bedside table.” 

with that, wonwoo takes his leave; off to a girl’s place, no doubt. mingyu doesn’t really care to know. his mind’s pretty occupied with a girl of his own. 

mingyu rushes into his best friend’s bedroom, kicking his bulky ass gamer chair out of the way and pulling out the top drawer of his bedside table. mingyu physically recoils at the pile of dildos and vibrators he finds instead, which wonwoo so graciously neglected to mention. slamming that one shut, he finds what he’s looking for in the second drawer. condoms. 

….why are there so many? textured, warming, cooling, flavoured; how is he supposed to know which one you’d prefer?

after tossing the options over in his head (frantically panicking), mingyu settles on the box of strawberry flavoured condoms, grabbing out more than enough and stuffing them in his pocket. 

he then stops by wonwoo’s mirror, giving himself a once over. he went commando for obvious reasons, and his grey sweats already have a visible tent from how he’s half-hard just thinking about you. he already shaved everything in the shower, but he turns his head this way and that to make sure he didn’t miss any spots. pulls his pants down to check the same for his crotch. he smells his breath, his armpits. decides to spritz on more cologne and chew on some gum. 

then the doorbell rings. 

like some dog waiting for its owner, mingyu bounds over and hastily unlocks the door. 

there you are, in all your beauty — smiling sweetly in a little sundress (they always make men go crazy, for whatever reason). 

mingyu stammers like an idiot as he attempts to greet you, blocking the doorway as his eyes flick up and down and all around your body, damn nearly drooling until you clear your throat. 

“hey mingyu.” you coo, saccharine voice like honey and melting over his thoughts. “it’s nice to finally meet.” 

“yes, yes, of course.” he bumbles, finally stepping out of the way and letting you walk inside. he locks the door, gulping as he watches you inspect the place. how is he supposed to begin this? “did you, uh.. want any water or—”

that sentence is lost on the tip of his tongue when your lips smother it. you catch mingyu completely off guard when you step into a kiss with him, leaving no room for questions when your tongue slips into his mouth. you back him into the closest surface, being his kitchen counter, without breaking your mouth from his. 

mingyu’s quite good at kissing, since he’s got a lot of experience with that alone, but then not much for the after. 

mingyu knows how to lick his tongue against yours and tilt his head for deeper access. knows where to put his hands, how to hold just tight enough to leave your skin buzzing. he knows to pull you in and press your chest flush against his, and he’s mindful enough to keep his pelvis angled away from you. how cute and polite of him. it’s almost like you’re not here for the sole reason of getting in those pants. 

despite his best attempts, you rock your hips forward to meet his crotch, delighting at the solid rock you find there. mingyu muffles a noise into your mouth that you’re determined to hear out loud later. you roll your body into his again, brushing your front right up and gauging the outline of his cock. 

he’s already proven that he’s not lying about his size but man, fuck… feeling it in real life just brings the shock right back. to think, he’s somehow also desperate as if this thing couldn’t get him laid with ease? 

it’s flattering, really — that he chose you amongst all the girls throwing themselves at him, when all you did was doubt and make fun of him. 

mingyu finally succumbs to your ministrations and starts rocking his hips right back — tongue tasting every inch of your mouth as he grinds his length forward, nothing but the fabric of his pants and your dress to offer him friction. he’s so worked up that honestly, it could be enough to get him off. he can already feel his dick leaking into his sweats like he’s some virgin experiencing his first kiss. 

before he can actually just cum his pants, you part with him — a line of spit connecting your mouths that you wipe off. mingyu’s already huffing, waiting for your next move. you smirk, turning on your heel and walking further into the place. 

“which one’s your room?” you call after him. he takes that as a hint to run up and show you to it. 

mingyu can just barely hear your oohs and ahhs over the blood pumping like bass in his ears as he pushes his bedroom door open.

your fingers run along his shelves, eyes scanning his posters and the gym equipment scattered around the place. the picture of a dude’s room. 

“where’s your roommate?” you ask, perching on his bed. 

mingyu swallows, willing his voice to come, a little speechless just at the sight of you sitting where he sleeps. “wonwoo? uh, he’s out.” 

you hum, nodding. “so we don’t have to worry about your volume, then.” 

oh. you offer mingyu a grin and he just blanches. not yours, his volume. you’re not wrong though.. you’ll probably have him hooting and hollering from just thumbing his tip. 

you clear your throat, commanding his attention. 

“are you gonna fuck me from there or..?” 

mingyu can feel his knees bending a little, on instinct from being flustered and wanting to shrink. you pat on the bed, just to gently guide him, and mingyu follows like a dog. 

he chooses to sit beside you which makes you giggle. with a hand on the neck, thumb sitting above his thrumming pulse, you pull him in for a kiss. it’s startlingly tender, at least it begins so. 

it’s not long at all until your impatience wins over and you’re licking into his mouth again, enticing little hums from mingyu’s throat. you swings your thighs over his as you climb into his lap, feeling his whole body tense as you sit right on the massive tent in his pants. 

mingyu knows he’s fully hard, has been since you put your tongue in his mouth — but now you know it too. there’s a bit of an astonished look in your eye, as if finally confirming some theory. yes, it really is that big. boners give him headaches and he wouldn’t doubt that some of his back pain comes from lugging this big thing around all day. 

even now, he can feel his head swimming from all the blood leaving to his lower half. you may leave him with a killer migraine from how hard he’s sure to cum, but it’ll be more than worth it. and you can always make it up to him, maybe….

you grind down on him a few times, the wet patch on his sweats growing even worse; mingyu throwing his head back and just letting you. 

a rough hand gripping the scruff of his hair gets his eyes to fly open, staring at you with wide eyes like he’s in trouble. under his watch, you roll your hips deliberately slow, letting mingyu feel every ridge down there, all the wetness dripping from your— 

shit, you’re not wearing underwear. you giggle at his recognition, and mingyu’s hands fly out to grip your thighs. to slow you down or get you to speed up, he doesn’t know. as long as you don’t stop. 

you make a show with your hand: cupping a breast through your dress, trailing your fingers down your torso before they find the hem of your skirt. you snicker at mingyu’s eyes following every little move, then raise the dress to reveal your bare pussy rutting against his cock — nothing but the thin fabric of his sweats separating you, soiled sticky with your shared arousal. 

mingyu whines at the sight, his cock pulsing under you in tandem. you even look a bit startled at how much of it moved, practically halfway in you at this point. 

to his dismay you shift back, sitting on his thighs and leaving his poor crotch empty. he doesn’t get to pout for long though, since your hand leaves the dress to brush your knuckles against his length. mingyu shivers, a desperate noise leaving his mouth as your fingers dance over his cock. it throbs and jumps in response, and you giggle, continuing to just play with it. he can barely feel the warmth of your fingers through the fabric, and his hips cant upwards in chase of it. 

“you’re real pretty like this, mingyu.” you murmur, fingers softly making a plucking motion over his tip and watching him try to thrust up into it. 

as a big ass dude, he’s never heard himself be called ‘pretty’ before, even by his mother but… the way his body reacts to that speaks for itself. 

he can’t even get out a ‘thanks’, nothing but embarrassing whines leaving his mouth, even over the faintest stimulation you’re offering him. 

“you’ll need to work to fit inside.” you tell him, and he nods, even though he doesn’t even fully register what that means. “mingyu?” 

“yeah?” he huffs out, glossy eyes finding yours. you swoon over how much he looks like a puppy, especially with his open-mouth panting, and the fact that he won’t move unless you tell him to. 

softness swells inside you and your fingers splay through his hair, combing through it gently. a contrast to your blunt words: “eat me out.” 

“oh,” he just says, mind lagging behind as the words sink in. “oh. yes, yeah. i can do that.” 

you huff in amusement, pushing off his lap and positioning yourself at the edge of the bed. “i would hope so..” 

mingyu follows your lead, sliding off the edge himself and sitting on the floor in front of you. you giggle at his commitment, spreading your legs and pulling the skirt up so your pussy is on full display for him. 

saliva gathers in his mouth just looking at it, and he mentally runs through all of the advice jeonghan and joshua gave him. 

leaning forward, mingyu starts out slow; leaving soft pecks on the skin of your thigh, listening to your breathing as he inches closer. he works up the courage to look up, holding your gaze as he gives a tentative lick. 

you hum appreciatively, fingers finding his hair again, his lashes fluttering over how much he likes the feel of your hand there. mingyu dives in again, just licking for the sake of it — running his tongue through your folds and familiarising himself with your taste. he pulls a steady stream of hums from you, punctuated with a gasp when his tongue presses just right in a particular spot. 

the clit, mingyu realises. he latches on so he doesn’t lose it — lips closing around the bud and sucking. your back arches, fingers twisting in mingyu’s hair and causing a groan to rumble on your pussy. 

while mingyu kinda knows what to do, he also kinda doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, so he follows the noises above him as direction. he builds a rhythm, switching between quick flicks of his tongue and sucking your clit into his mouth. then, he gets curious: licking down to your hole, juices gushing onto his tongue as he buries it into you. you squeak, thighs clamping around his head, and mingyu uses both of his hands to pry them back open. 

he fucks you on his tongue, trying his best to keep his eyes on you through how much they’re rolling back into his head. he thinks he’s got the hang of this now — and so he drags his mouth back to your clit, replacing his tongue with two fingers. mingyu pistons them in and out, curls them up, and goes light-headed at all the gorgeous noises he’s pulling from your mouth. 

you’re tight, such a tight fit it might hurt him when he goes in — so he can only imagine how much it’ll hurt you. 

on that thought, mingyu scissors his fingers, spreading you open and brushing against your g-spot as he does. his cock jumps in his sweats as you drag out a moan, fist close to ripping out his hair. mingyu adds a third finger, fucks you on them for a bit and listens to your moans in response before easing in a fourth. even all his fingers won’t compare to his entire size, but it’s all he has to prepare you enough. 

for the first time maybe ever, mingyu’s certain that you’re close. your body’s practically vibrating: thighs tensing around his ears, pussy throbbing in his mouth and around his fingers. 

mingyu locks in, keeping his hand and tongue steady to fuck and lick you through it — that is, until you just tear his face away. 

he blinks, registering what just happened as you pull his hand out yourself. he blinks again, and suddenly you’re pulling him up by the shirt collar until he’s sat back on the bed. 

you shove him, and mingyu falls on his back. one more blink and mingyu’s met with the image of you lowering your pussy onto his mouth. 

you straddle mingyu’s face, grabbing hold of his hair as an anchor before you start to rocklike crazy. your dress covers his eyes, but he’s undeterred as his hands find your ass and push you further down, gladly presenting his tongue for you to use. 

mingyu can hardly breathe, but he’d die happily if the last thing he hears is your moans as you ride your orgasm out on his face. 

his scalp burns when your fingers twist impossibly tight, hips grinding onto him so hard that even his teeth ache — but then a fresh wave of slick is gushing onto his tongue, and mingyu knows that you’re cumming. 

it’s all too much for him and his painfully erect cock, and before he can even register what’s happening — mingyu’s stomach is lurching, cock spilling a hot load into his sweats. 

you climb off him, looking unkempt and yet every bit still gorgeous. you tug mingyu by his neck into a kiss, feral and sloppy. teeth gnashing and tongues twisting. your chin sliding against his chin, covered in your cum and his own spit. 

mingyu’s the one who breaks it off this time — as much as it pains him, he probably would’ve suffocated on your tongue there with just how breathless he’s been since you unsaddled from him. 

you notice, allowing him a moment to actually get some air back into his lungs as you kiss along his jaw and above his adam’s apple. it bobs as you leave a peck there. 

turning your attention to the rest of his body, you tug on his shirt, and mingyu lifts his arms to let you pull it off. chest bare, you begin to ravage him, leaving your mark as you suck hickeys and nip bites at his honey skin. your tongue runs through the valley of his pecs and the ridges of his abs, stopped only by the band of his sweats. you pull back, eyes landing on the large stain in his pants, and your lips curl into a smirk. 

“aw,” you pout. “i’m flattered.” 

you peel his waistband back, and mingyu takes the hint to raise his hips and let you pull these godforsaken sweats all the way down. he winces when his cock slaps against his stomach, sensitive and yet still fully hard. 

you take a moment to just admire it, and mingyu gets progressively shy, pre beading at his tip like there isn’t actual cum still covering his length. 

you wrap gentle fingers around the base, smiling at how it jumps in your hand. what mingyu doesn’t expect is for you to lean down, and press your lips against the head of his cock. 

mingyu groans, so sensitive and yet so fucking good. you don’t go too hard as you mouth at his tip, then darting your tongue out and running it down his length — licking up all the cum dripping down to his balls. you even leave a kiss on his sack, and he shivers, almost shutting his legs on instinct. 

he giggles. “sorry, no one’s ever—”

“i could spend all day down here,” you tell him, eyes alight and smile beaming. you really do mean that and you want him to know it. “you’ve got more than enough for a girl to be grateful for.” 

mingyu shivers again as you leave an open-mouthed kiss on his cock, running your lips over his length, though he’s not sure if it’s because of that or because of your words. 

“almost didn’t believe a man that looks like you could be so desperate, but now..” you press your thumb to his frenulum, revelling in the moan that rips from his chest. “what a lucky girl i am, huh?” 

“ffu—shit, you mean i’m the lucky one,” mingyu manages to grit out. “haven’t been laid in forever.”

“see now, i just can’t believe that. well, i do, now that i’m actually touching you—” you squeeze his tip as if to make a point, and mingyu nearly thrashes from how much that just built his next orgasm. “guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time, hm?” 

mingyu nods feverishly. you smile, so entirely endeared with him. 

with how much of a package mingyu is (in more ways than one), you probably would’ve still fucked him even if you found out he was lying about being pathetically bitchless. now, his good looks are just a bonus. you’re going to fuck him because you’re starting to feel quite fond of him. 

“where’s your condoms?” you ask him, granting his poor cock some mercy and instead choosing to run your hands over his sweat-slick abs. 

“er..” his mind blanks for a moment, too caught up on the fact that you’re really about to fuck him. “pants pocket.” 

you stand from the bed, kneeling down to reach into where you threw his pants on the floor. you arch a brow at mingyu, no doubt realising how he’s got an entire stash of condoms in there, but you don’t mention it. 

back on your feet, you shrug your dress off, revealing nothing but a bare, beautifully sculpted body beneath. 

“wah..” mingyu unintentionally says out loud, just admiring you. 

you roll your eyes, ripping the condom packet open with your teeth. “don’t cum before i even put it in.” 

“better hurry then..” he smiles, flashing his sharp canines. 

it’s all fast movement from there: you slip the condom on mingyu, snickering a comment about how it took forever until it reached the base, and then you position yourself right above him. 

mingyu holds his breath, expecting you to ease onto him — totally unprepared for you to just drop down.

mingyu body curls upwards like you’ve just winded him, cursing like a sailor over your heat wrapped around him. he already knew it’d be like this, even with all the prep, but you’re so fucking tight. you’re just sitting there, not even moving, and yet your pussy is strangling the fucking life out of his cock. 

he’s so caught up in trying not to cum prematurely that he forgets about your own discomfort. mingyu recollects himself, pressing a gentle palm to your back as he schools his shaky breathing. 

“you okay?” he wheezes out, eyes screwing shut at the pulse your pussy gives. 

“mm.” you hum, offering no sign to fuss over, but that doesn’t stop mingyu. holding your waist, he attempts to lift you off of him, but you cut that shit out immediately when you grind yourself forward on his cock. he keels over, head buried into your shoulder. 

“‘s a lot to take, but i’m fine, mingyu.” you reassure him, fingers playing with his hair since you’ve realised how much he seems to like it. “are you okay?” 

he groans out, intending for that to be a yes. you giggle. “i’m going to move now, alright?” he repeats the groan noise in reply. 

you plant both feet on either side of mingyu, balancing yourself with your hands holding his hair, and then you start to bounce. just slowly to start off, letting your pussy adjust to the massive ass cock spearing you open. you know that if you were to have inched down, your pussy would’ve tried to push it out, so making mingyu fit meant just taking it all at once. 

he currently looks like he’s the one that has to adjust to you, though. 

mingyu lets out a stream of whimpers into your ear where his head is lolled onto your shoulder, just pliantly taking what you’re giving him. all of his brainpower is channelled into holding his cum back right now. 

his effort is almost in vain when you speed up, bouncing so hard that his balls smack into your ass with each thrust onto him. 

he’s moaning so loud he didn’t even realise the desperate cries coming from your mouth too — dick twitching so violently he didn’t even realise how much you’re pulsing around him. 

mingyu pulls back, knowing he’ll regret it if he spent the entire duration of sex with his face stuffed in your shoulder — his eyes captivated on where your bodies connect. 

he can’t find the strength in him to offer anything more than his hips stuttering up, attempting to meet each of your bounces on him. in and out, in and out, in and— 

“fuuuuucck,” mingyu drawls, eyes rolling so far back he catches a glimpse of his own brain. 

you don’t mention it as you quickly wipe some drool from the corner of his mouth, then gasp as you feel his cock spasm like a snapped rubber band. “shit, mingyu, are you—”

you don’t get to ask and he doesn’t get to answer before his orgasm slams into him like a bag of bricks. mingyu’s head lolls back, knuckles turning white where they’re holding onto your waist for dear life, sure to leave bruises in their wake. 

you fuck mingyu until you’re certain the condom must be flooded, and then you fuck yourself on him some more. 

mingyu’s unintelligible at this point, hoarse voice almost unrecognisable as he can do nothing but moan through the sensitivity. it’s raw and god it hurts but you don’t stop fucking him. he doesn’t want you to either. 

your bounces shift into rocking your hips on him, his spent cock rubbing deep and perfectly into your g-spot. your clit grinds on the skin of his groin with each movement, and before long you’re riding out a second orgasm on him. 

mingyu takes it, long past his limit but loving every second of you just using him like a toy. he even tries his best to fuck up as you’re cumming, the sweet thing. 

after the last wave of your orgasm gushes around his cock, you just lay boneless on mingyu — his body keeping you both propped upright as you catch your breaths and your trains of thought. 

his large hand comes to caress your back. he winces when you pulse around him once more, his cock softening inside the spent condom. 

“you should probably take the condom off.” you mumble into his collarbone. 

he hums, finger mindlessly drawing shapes onto your back. 

“and put a new one on.” you add, leaving a peck on his jaw like what you said was nothing out of the ordinary. 

“wait, what?” 

“what?” you eye him like he’s the one who said something crazy. “did you think that’s all i came for?” you continue, smile stretching across your face. 

“uh…” well, yeah. every other girl he’s been with was halfway out the door before he could even tie the condom up. 

you kiss him, sweetly this time. a stark contrast to the sloppy, tongue filled make-outs you were having just minutes ago. 

“unless you don’t want this as much as you’ve led me to believe..” you tease. 

“fuck, i do, i do.” he confirms quickly. “just… give me five minutes.” as if on command, his temple throbs with pain. “and some ibuprofen.” 

you giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.

god, you’re going to wring all 12 inches of him dry. 

...is this enough to ask if you’d like to go out sometime?

never did you see yourself experiencing a love like in the movies. the red string of fate, the twin flame, the soulmate – all concepts that were fictional to you. you got really close, once, and was humbled so badly that you had sworn off of love. you wouldn’t search for it, or even try for it ever again. 

but that’s the thing about love, isn’t it? it happens when you’re least expecting it. you don’t find it, it finds you, and pulls you under so quickly that there’s no time to resist. to you, heartbroken and hopeless you, this took form in the sudden presence of the boy called jake. 

jake had always been around – he’s a friend of your ex (he who shall not be named). not a close one, but one you still saw often at hangouts and parties. that one smiley, golden retriever boy with the bleached blonde hair. 

he was always such a gentleman with you, at least in the fleeting interactions before your ex would interrupt or steal you away. you still adored those brief moments with jake, and if your ex wasn’t so cutthroat about being the only man in your life, you might’ve found a good friend in jake. 

none of it could’ve prepared you for what you ended up finding in him instead. 

love. real love, pure love. a love that didn’t keep you waiting, that didn’t have you terrified of it vanishing. a love that was gentle and sweet and understanding. a love that you know you didn’t deserve, and yet a love he fought tooth and nail to give you. 

after your messy and very public breakup, jake swooped in like some type of guardian angel. one harmless text of him checking up on you later, and you found yourself attached to his side quicker than you could start missing your ex. 

he comforted you through it – held you in his arms when you were ugly crying, cooked meals for you when you couldn’t take care of yourself – and all he asked for in return was to continue being by your side. 

once you finally mustered the strength to leave bed after a week of rotting, jake was there to help clean your room of any traces of your ex. he then chucked all of his belongings in his car to drive to the dump, just so you didn’t have to be around the stuff any longer.

jake is a million dollar man. a once in a lifetime man. he is every bit the man that you wanted your ex to be, and better. because jake has none of his flaws. in fact, you’re not sure if jake even has any. he’s so perfect for you, and somehow, he feels like deja vu. 

you’re convinced he was a lover in your past life, someone you’ve reincarnated with to find in every reality, with how familiar he seems, how in tune he is with your needs. 

you’re so helplessly in love, and you know that someway, somehow – he loves you even more. 

—

not a day goes by where jake doesn’t think about marrying you. 

you don’t even have to do anything and already, he’s picturing you walking down the aisle, your belly swell with his child. patience, though. he needs enough for both of you. he’s been very intentional in restraining from going that far with you yet. he’s not prepared enough. but he will be, soon. 

he smiles to himself as he heart-reacts to your cute little ‘take your time handsome :)’ text, in reply to him apologising for being a few minutes late to come over. he had to wait for the dryer load to be done so he could wear his grey sweatpants – jay’s sweatpants. 

every time he wears these, without fail, you go crazy over him. the first time was a carelessly stupid mistake – you’d called him in tears, and in his rush to drive to your place, he’d thrown on the first pair of pants he could find, which he hadn’t realised was from the pile of your ex’s clothes.

by some luck, or perhaps by design, it had worked in his favour. your tears had quickly dried when you saw him walk in with those loose sweats hanging from his hips, and not long after you’d had him pressed to the couch, your lips devouring his. it was the first time you kissed him since the breakup, and it would’ve been your first time having sex since, if only jake hadn’t stopped things before they could escalate. 

you’re too affectionate for your own good. it will get your heart broken one day, and it did. but you never have to worry about that happening again – not after you handed it over to jake’s hands. 

jay may not be in your life anymore, but bits and pieces of him never really left. you don’t even realise it, but it’s why you fell for jake so hard and fast in the first place. 

jake pockets his phone into jay’s sweats. he throws a hoodie over his shirt – also jay’s – before spritzing on a layer of jay’s favourite cologne, then popping a stick of jay’s favourite gum in his mouth. referencing the polaroid taped to his mirror, jake styles his hair, just like jay’s. you first met him when he had the bleached hair, but once he’d heard the news of your breakup, he didn’t think twice about dyeing it back to black. 

jake slides the insoles into his sneakers before putting them on, matching jay’s height as he stands up. he clips on the watch around his wrist from the same brand as jay’s. 

jake gives himself a once over in the mirror, and clears his throat for one last practice before he leaves. his reflection talks like jay, walks like jay, perfectly mimics his loud laugh and his shy mannerisms. only when jake doesn’t recognise himself anymore does he feel satisfied, and texts you a quick ‘On my way cutie <3’ before grabbing his car keys from the pocket of jay’s jeans he wore yesterday on the floor. 

jake hadn’t thrown out a single possession of your ex’s like he promised you. that day he drove them to the ‘dump’ to end up in a heap of landfill, he’d actually just taken them right back to his house, where he’s since been studying them harder than his college finals. 

every handmade gift that he can recreate better, every love letter that he can plagiarise and whisper into your ear. he’s even tried learning some of jay’s homemade recipes, and bought a guitar to practise jay’s scribbled songs. he wears some clothing from jay’s closet each time he sees you. he analyses photos to pose like jay, videos to act like jay – every second of every day in his head is just jay, jay, jay. jake thinks about him so much you’d think he was in love. 

no part of jay is unknown to him. he wants to know exactly the type of man you fell so deeply in love with, so he can do it all better.

what you don’t know is that jake wanted you first, from afar – from passing by you in the halls and sitting behind you in class. all before jay just swooped in and bagged you like nothing. 

you don’t even remember jake’s existence before you met him as jay’s friend. he wasn’t memorable enough, not worthy enough. so, he had to become the man you wanted, the man your broken heart longed for: jay. 

and it’s worked better than he could’ve ever imagined. 

yesterday, while he was over, you’d shyly (adorably) admitted to jake that you used to journal. you lost motivation to keep up with it after he who shall not be named.

“you should start again,” he had suggested to you, rubbing your arm as he held you under his shoulder. “it’s a healthy hobby to have.”

“i only ever wrote when i was upset.” you looked up at him with eyes full of hearts. “i don’t need it anymore.”

so today, he has an objective. 

jake had treated you to a date night-in. he’d cooked a big, hearty meal using one of jay’s recipes – including all the fucking expensive exotic ingredients – then popped a fine wine to share over a binge of the james bond movies. jay loves them, and jay complained about how you’d fall asleep whenever he put them on.

drinking wine and watching a movie that bores you, jake hadn’t expected you to last long. and yet you’d hardly done either with your tongue down his throat and your hand palming the front of his pants. 

jake had excused himself to the bathroom before he could embarrass himself, furiously jerked off into your toilet, and by the time he returned you were knocked out on the couch. fast asleep, just like he’d planned. 

your sweet, unassuming boyfriend had tip-toed into your bedroom and gone straight for the bottom drawer of your dresser, hitting the jackpot. 

diaries. a whole stack of them. licking his lips, he pulled out his phone and opened up the first one, pressing record as he began to flip through each page. 

all of your thoughts from your relationship with jay, perfectly preserved in writing. every time he upset you, hurt you, every time you fell in and out of love. 

he moved quickly – since there’s no telling if you’d miss him in your slumber and wake up to realise he’s gone – so he could only skim the words as he flicked through, feeling his chest stir and pants tighten with the excitement. he’ll be watching the video back later anyways, when he’s alone and has the time to read it like his own personal bible. 

as much as it kills him inside to turn you down each time you’re both hot and bothered, practically fucking already through your clothes, the sole reason jake has been waiting for is this. he needed to know exactly how jay did it, how you liked it, how he kept you with him for so long. he needs to know the right steps to ensure you’ll never want to leave him. and now he’s got it, in between the pages he flicks with his finger, every word captured on camera. fucking jackpot.

“jakey?”

the diary nearly falls from his hands as you call out to him. it fumbles in his grip, and he holds onto it before it can clatter on the wooden dresser. blowing out a breath to calm himself, he responds right away, “yeah baby?” 

“where’d y’go?” you drawl back, audibly still half-asleep. 

“just getting the bed ready,” he continues to flip through the diary under the sound of his voice, recording the last few pages he needs. “i’ll carry you in, okay?” 

“m’kay..”

jake waits for minutes, putting the diary back and periodically inching the dresser shut, right until it quietly sets back into place. like he was never there. 

yeesh, not even james bond could understand the panic that just coursed through jake’s body. he did it though – he fucking did it! he’s gonna make you his for life. 

—

two pages in and jake thinks he’s scarred for life. 

he already knew you were easy.. he can tell how desperately you’ve wanted it since you’ve started dating, and he could tell throughout your entire relationship with jay. 

not just from jay’s own word of mouth – loudly bragging about how you were always down, how he ‘didn’t know how to handle all that’ – but from jake’s own ears too. he’d walk past locked bathrooms at house parties, recognising the pitch of your moans in a heartbeat through the thin walls. they’d be playing video games over discord calls, and your voice in the background of jay’s mic would disappear, his breaths growing suspiciously heavier.

being around it happening implicitly is one thing, filling the blanks with his imagination as he fucks his fist is another – but this… this is far worse. you really leave nothing to interpretation. 

you slept with jay on the first date – or rather he fucked you, so good and thoroughly that you had no choice but to keep coming back, whether or not he wanted to put a label on it you didn’t care. 

here jake is, playing the long game like a fucking idiot, when you were drunk off jay from one sip. 

he’s helpless to do anything but keep reading though, turning to the next page while it turns his guts inside out. like a car crash he just can’t look away. he needs this knowledge – he needs to know precisely how you want him inside you, so you have no choice but to believe he’s made for you. 

he memorises the words jay used to talk you through it. the details of how his hands and his mouth worked at you expertly. the nitty gritty of how he took you from behind and plowed you. how he was so rough you couldn’t do anything but scream and take it, and yet you loved every second of it. you loved him, and you would’ve let him do whatever he wanted if it meant he loved you back. 

hm. 

jake peaks under the blanket, eyes falling on the tent in his (jay’s) sweats. there’s even a few dark spots on the grey fabric. picking his phone back up, he starts reading where he left off, sighing in relief as he grips himself through the pants. 

who would’ve thought.. reading everything jay did to your body and envisioning it in his head, would have jake this hard. 

shameless, he pulls the waistband down to grip himself properly, wincing as he gathers pre on his palm before coating it over his length. jake whimpers, wrapping his fingers tight and jerking his wrist fast, forcing his eyes open so he can keep reading. 

that time when jay forced your legs apart even though you were overstimulated, how he filled your pussy to the brim with cum and ate it out, spat it in your mouth then fucked it down your throat–

jake moans pathetically as he coats his hoodie in a sudden spurt of cum. his hips kick weakly into his fist, his eyes fluttering shut as he still attempts to read what happened after jay plugged your mouth with his dick. 

with his clean hand, he checks the timestamp on the video, and groans when he sees he’s not even halfway through. he hasn’t even reached the first rough patch (of many) in the relationship, where there’s sure to be copious hate and make-up sex stories awaiting him. 

he’s in for a long night with his right hand. 

—

“jake, what are you thinking?”

jake licks his lips, tasting your spit coating them, as he buys himself time to reply. his hands run up and down your sides, squeezing the curves in his fingers as his length states his exact thoughts where it twitches below you. you chuckle as you feel it, running a hand through his tousled hair, the light scratch of your nails enough to have him whimpering softly. 

honest answer? jake’s thinking about how he spent the last 24 hours reading your diary front to back, how he memorised every single time jay fucked you throughout your entire relationship, how he tired himself out by jerking off to it all night and into the early morning. 

he’d surprised you today by coming over unannounced, capturing your lips in a kiss before you could even greet him as you opened your front door, walking you back into the couch where you’ve been buried in each other’s mouths since. 

somewhere during your needy gropes and whiney kisses, you’d taken the initiative to climb into his lap – and where he’d usually stop things before they could go further, jake had let you rut against him. desperately grinding against the sensitive heat of each other’s bodies, months worth of bottled tension finally let loose. 

“jakey,” you cooed, ripping him from his thoughts as you slowly rolled your hips against him. “what’s up?”

he huffs a laugh. “me.” you roll your eyes, quickly distracted by how his hands guide you to grind harder, earning a shudder from the boy below you. “nah, i’m just.. i still can’t believe you’re real.”

and he means that more than you could know. he’s spent years yearning over the view of the back of your head or your blurry figure in the distance, and now you’re on top of him, when all it took was fitting the mold your ex left behind. in every way.

his breath hitches, length giving another harsh pulse beneath you, and you throw your head back with a frustrated groan, “urgh, i’ve been waiting so long, jake.”

“i know,” he stifles another whimper, trying to keep a cool, collected composure as he praises you. just how you like. “you’ve done so well, baby, i’m proud of you–”

“just let me sit on your dick already!”

jake stammers, completely taken aback. he mentally cross-references how you’re behaving with him right now to how you wrote about jay. you enjoyed intimacy best when jay guided and talked you through it. you liked being manhandled, you loved being fucked, and yet you’re.. bossing jake around? 

this isn’t going how it should be…

“i want you in me, jake.” you utter, breath fanning his lips as your hand wedges between where your bodies connect. “i wanna ride you.” his eyes flutter shut at the feel of your palm gripping his length, while you grind yourself against your own hand, too worked up for how slow he’s taking this. “let me?” 

shit, he almost did. he lost himself for a moment there – slipping back into the fumbling, awkward mess he is and not the stone-faced dominant man that he’s supposed to be right now. he needs to be jay for you. 

“you think you can tell me what to do?” he sneers, grabbing your ass with a slap, hard enough to make you gasp. he pushes down the swell in his chest that feels bad for being rough. “that’s no way to get what you want, baby.”

“jake–” you squeak out, gasping again louder as he pushes you down by the hips, hard enough for his length to dig up into you with a roll of his hips. your eyes widen, from his size and from this new side of him. “i– i’m sorry..”

he hums, unconvinced. “you use your manners when you ask.” jake commands, not even recognising himself from this foreign tone of voice. he’d bet he sounds exactly like your ex with how your body turns to putty under his hands. 

you gulp, your eyes glazing over with something he doesn’t recognise. submission, must be. “please?” your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

jake pokes his cheek with his tongue – something jay did that drove you crazy – and watches the effect it has on you in real time as your hips grind on him once more, needy for some damn relief. jake’s grip on you tightens enough to make you pause, and he tuts at you in disapproval. 

“please.” you almost whine. “jake, please, i’ve needed you so bad. please let me ride you, i’ll be so good.”

the sweetest girl he’s ever known, reduced to a begging mess because of how perfectly he embodied your ex. he almost loses it again, almost gives in and lets you ride him until he sees stars, but jake locks back in with a reminder: what would jay do?

he runs through each verse of your diary he knows by heart at this point, and after coming to a conclusion of how jay would proceed – jake chuckles in your face. 

“nah.”

within a blink jake’s got you off his lap and on your back, pressed into the couch by his chest on yours. 

“we’re doing this my way,” he talks you through it as he tugs down your pants, unsurprised to find an absence of underwear. easy. “what you need, baby, is to get fucked.” you whine as his teeth nip at your neck, his tongue licking the sting. “then maybe, if you’re so good, you can ask again.” he almost cries out as his fingers find your pussy, wetness coating the tips. “nicely this time.”

“ah, jake–” you moan loudly for him, two fingers running through your folds before settling at your clit, rubbing digit eights over the throbbing bundle of nerves. 

“you’ve been waiting so long?” jake scoffs, quick fingers circling your clit as you writhe beneath him. “baby. you have no idea about me.”

“a-ah! i’m sorry!” you babble, to jake’s confusion. your big, glossy eyes find his, your puffy lips from all his kisses trembling. ah, you must be deep in it. this is seriously too easy. you’ll really get off on being talked down on by jake, just because your ex did it first?

not even a few seconds later you’re clamping your thighs around his wrist, mouth dropping open in a moan, and it takes him a moment to realise you’re cumming already. that took.. nothing. he makes sure to rub you through it, and even a little after until you’re pushing at his chest, whining that it’s too much. 

jake’s dick throbs in his sweats, the grey sweats, diary passages flashing in his mind of you writing about jay getting you off. how you’d daydream about the sex for weeks after because of how well he worked your body, how obsessed you were with it. jake almost cums in his fucking pants just thinking about how well he’s doing in mimicking your ex – and you’re drunk off it, you don’t even realise that you’re about to get fucked by the exact same man. 

jake rips off both layers restraining him almost painfully at this point, tugging them down only to his knees before he’s back on top of you, lining his cock up with your sopping pussy. you just whimper, too far gone to even beg for him anymore. 

with one thrust, jake slides all the way in, the tight fit airing out every thought in his brain. you try to hold onto him with shaky fingers, and he softly shushes each of your whimpers, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. trying to comforting you, even as you’re gripping him like a fucking vice. everything he’s ever wanted, everything he’s sacrificed his entire identity for, gripping him. wet and hot and perfect and so fucking worth it.

he’s able to hold back on cumming solely because of all the recent jerking off to your diary. he sucks in a breath through his teeth, forcing himself to speak, to keep you under his spell. 

“you feel so perfect, baby,” he kisses your forehead, and you stare up at him with that dazed look still in your eyes. “i’m gonna fucking wreck you.”

jake snaps his hips, roughly pushing every inch in, and you break off into helpless little moans as he starts to fuck you properly. he bites his lower lip, keeping all of his own in so he can stay the picture of the cold, dominant man you want so badly. he only lets you adjust to the fit while he’s fucking you, your pussy fluttering around him. it must sting, it must be pain mixed with pleasure right now, and yet you’re taking all of him without protest. because that’s just how you like it. 

once you’ve adjusted enough to stop sucking him in, jake tilts his hips to angle his thrusts up, hitting that sweet spot that has you whimpering his name. 

“yeah, baby?” he almost taunts you as he pushes himself all the way in, soiling his balls in your sticky arousal as he grinds forward, tip nudging your cervix. jake laughs through his sudden rage of jay having this under him everyday and still breaking your heart. that’d be the one difference between them – jake won’t be that stupid. “feels good huh?”

you can’t even get his name out, let alone words anymore, as you lay limply beneath him, heat blooming in your gut as he rubs his length along your g-spot. your eyes roll back into your head, lips stretching in a silent moan, and jake cusses as he realises what’s happening before you clamp down on him, too tight for him to pull back. 

you cum again, overcome with twitches through your body and around his cock, and jake just watches in bewilderment. of course you wouldn’t lie in your own diary, but.. you really are too easy. you’ve popped off twice and he’s barely gotten started. 

jake runs his hands over your body as he waits for you to come back to him, sliding his palms under your shirt to pinch and twist at your nipples. you whimper, so sensitive. 

“c’mere, baby, you’re doing so well,” he pulls your chin into a sweet kiss, right before he slides back into jay. “you’re gonna take more for me. right?”

you nod. pliant, fucked out, so so perfect.

jake smiles, thinking of where to even start with the things he wants to do to you, before remembering that one story in your diary he kept coming back to, the one he came hard to like none other. the one you said was the moment you knew you’d fallen in love with jay. 

he wants to see it happen for himself. 

jake pins your thighs down to the couch cushions, pries your legs apart, and fucks into you like a madman, like a dog in heat. he’s chasing nothing but his own release as he pounds you into the couch, and he can’t help the soft whimpers he lets slip as the aftershocks of your orgasms has your pussy fluttering around him. 

jake’s vision whites out, his ears ring, as pure bliss floods his body, his hips kicking rapidly until he’s spilling out inside of you. he’s so possessed he doesn’t even stop fucking you, not fully registering that he came with how in his head he is. what would jay sound like? how hard would jay go?

“ja..” you try to say his name, trailing off halfway. 

he opens his eyes – not even realising they closed – as he looks down at you. you’re even more gone than he is. do you even realise that it’s not your ex fucking you stupid right now? 

with a perfect face like that under him, wrapped around him, how is he ever meant to stop?

jake hisses as he pulls out abruptly, leaving a quick kiss on your lips before he crawls down, latching his mouth around your pussy. you scream for him, shoved way past overstim as his tongue ravages you, the mixture of cum gushing onto jake’s tongue. 

“j-ja–! ja– ja–!” you stutter, too weak to even get his full name out. jake’s groan rumbles on your clit, his cock leaking into the cushions as it hardens again, realising that his stuttered name sounds like you’re saying jay. 

j-jay! jay– jay–!

he’s done it. he succeeded, he won. he became jay. 

“keep on saying that, baby,” jake manages to huff out while he laps at you feverishly, the taste of your shared love lighting up his tongue as he eats the cum out of you – right until you’re letting loose for a third time, moaning that broken version of his name through it and driving him fucking insane. jake lets it all flood into his mouth, sucking his lips until he’s releasing your clit with a wet pop. 

he lifts himself up again until he’s at level with you, parting your lips with his thumb and waiting until you meet his eyes before he spits the mess of fluids directly onto your tongue. your lashes flutter, and he can see it as you sink even further into that floaty state of mind. 

“hold it.” he tells you, rising on his knees and shuffling forward, holding his cock by the base as he directs it to your mouth. “open, baby.”

you do as told, of course you do, letting jake bury himself to the hilt in the wet heat of your mouth. the underside glides over the cum still warm on your tongue, and jake shudders above you, feeling faint in the head from just how fucking hard he is for you. 

“you gotta return the favour, yeah?” he only hopes you don’t notice how breathless he is, how he’s just as much of a mess as you are. if he wasn’t putting on this whole jay persona, he’d be a fucking embarrasing bitch for you right now. 

you nod, and jake pulls out before pushing back in, tip bumping the back of your throat. he moans unabashedly, fucking the hollow of your mouth, feeling how you constrict around him. how you gag yet make no move to push him off. easy. perfect. just like jay made you, just like you are for jake to have now. 

jake snaps his hips ruthlessly until his abs tighten, his cock pulsing until he’s shooting out down your throat. he stays shaking above you, sweating all over, until slowly pulling himself out. he catches your throat bob in a gulp, and he thinks he’s ready for yet another round. 

before he can even put a thought to it though, a sudden sob from you has his entire being seizing in panic. tears burst out from your eyes, streaming down your face as you try to cover it with your hands. 

“oh no, no, hey,” jake pulls you into a hug, what jay would do the last thought in his mind as he instantly worries he took it too far. he reminded you too much of him, you caught on to his act. “baby, did i hurt you? did i–”

“no, jake,” you cut in, and he pulls back, his brows pinched in confusion. “you didn’t do anything. it all felt really good, you were really good, i just–” another sob chokes up your words, and he just shushes you as he cradles you to his chest, relief flooding all the worry in his system.

what you don’t tell him, what you chose to keep to yourself, is that you thought of jay. when jake was eating you out, and you’re sure you must’ve even said your ex’s name a few times as you came, too deep in subspace to realise what you were doing. to realise that it was your boyfriend and not the last man who’d put you there.

everything jake was doing and saying, it just.. reminded you of him, so much. you don’t miss him, you don’t still love him. it’s just hard for your body to unlearn the ways that someone else has already hammered into them. 

“i’m so sorry,” you sniffle. “jake.” you tack on, as if trying to remind your body who you’re with. 

“no, no.” he shushes you, stroking your hair. “it’s okay, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

he really is too perfect for you. you don’t know how you’ll ever deserve someone as pure as him. 

“i love you.” 

jake pulls back, eyes flitting around your face as if searching for any sign that you’re not serious. “wh– you.. you mean that?”

“i do.” you smile, and he mirrors you, lips stretching wide. “i love you, jakey.”

it’s the first time he’s heard it from you. it might be too early, but you don’t care. nothing’s too early if it’s all fate, all meant to be. 

“i love you more.” he rocks you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “more than you could ever know.”

your body stiffens as you’re suddenly transported back in time – living out a once fond memory with jay, how he’d said those exact words back after you’d said you love him first. 

jay– no, jake, just holds you tighter, snapping you clean out of your silly rumination. you curl into your boyfriend, forcing your ex out of your mind where he had no business hanging around.

jake wasn’t him, he’d never be him. what were you tripping for?

never did you see yourself experiencing a love like in the movies. the red string of fate, the twin flame, the soulmate – all concepts that were fictional to you. you got really close, once, and was humbled so badly that you had sworn off of love. you wouldn’t search for it, or even try for it ever again. 

but that’s the thing about love, isn’t it? it happens when you’re least expecting it. you don’t find it, it finds you, and pulls you under so quickly that there’s no time to resist. to you, heartbroken and hopeless you, this took form in the sudden presence of the boy called jake. 

jake had always been around – he’s a friend of your ex (he who shall not be named). not a close one, but one you still saw often at hangouts and parties. that one smiley, golden retriever boy with the bleached blonde hair. 

he was always such a gentleman with you, at least in the fleeting interactions before your ex would interrupt or steal you away. you still adored those brief moments with jake, and if your ex wasn’t so cutthroat about being the only man in your life, you might’ve found a good friend in jake. 

none of it could’ve prepared you for what you ended up finding in him instead. 

love. real love, pure love. a love that didn’t keep you waiting, that didn’t have you terrified of it vanishing. a love that was gentle and sweet and understanding. a love that you know you didn’t deserve, and yet a love he fought tooth and nail to give you. 

after your messy and very public breakup, jake swooped in like some type of guardian angel. one harmless text of him checking up on you later, and you found yourself attached to his side quicker than you could start missing your ex. 

he comforted you through it – held you in his arms when you were ugly crying, cooked meals for you when you couldn’t take care of yourself – and all he asked for in return was to continue being by your side. 

once you finally mustered the strength to leave bed after a week of rotting, jake was there to help clean your room of any traces of your ex. he then chucked all of his belongings in his car to drive to the dump, just so you didn’t have to be around the stuff any longer.

jake is a million dollar man. a once in a lifetime man. he is every bit the man that you wanted your ex to be, and better. because jake has none of his flaws. in fact, you’re not sure if jake even has any. he’s so perfect for you, and somehow, he feels like deja vu. 

you’re convinced he was a lover in your past life, someone you’ve reincarnated with to find in every reality, with how familiar he seems, how in tune he is with your needs. 

you’re so helplessly in love, and you know that someway, somehow – he loves you even more. 

—

not a day goes by where jake doesn’t think about marrying you. 

you don’t even have to do anything and already, he’s picturing you walking down the aisle, your belly swell with his child. patience, though. he needs enough for both of you. he’s been very intentional in restraining from going that far with you yet. he’s not prepared enough. but he will be, soon. 

he smiles to himself as he heart-reacts to your cute little ‘take your time handsome :)’ text, in reply to him apologising for being a few minutes late to come over. he had to wait for the dryer load to be done so he could wear his grey sweatpants – jay’s sweatpants. 

every time he wears these, without fail, you go crazy over him. the first time was a carelessly stupid mistake – you’d called him in tears, and in his rush to drive to your place, he’d thrown on the first pair of pants he could find, which he hadn’t realised was from the pile of your ex’s clothes.

by some luck, or perhaps by design, it had worked in his favour. your tears had quickly dried when you saw him walk in with those loose sweats hanging from his hips, and not long after you’d had him pressed to the couch, your lips devouring his. it was the first time you kissed him since the breakup, and it would’ve been your first time having sex since, if only jake hadn’t stopped things before they could escalate. 

you’re too affectionate for your own good. it will get your heart broken one day, and it did. but you never have to worry about that happening again – not after you handed it over to jake’s hands. 

jay may not be in your life anymore, but bits and pieces of him never really left. you don’t even realise it, but it’s why you fell for jake so hard and fast in the first place. 

jake pockets his phone into jay’s sweats. he throws a hoodie over his shirt – also jay’s – before spritzing on a layer of jay’s favourite cologne, then popping a stick of jay’s favourite gum in his mouth. referencing the polaroid taped to his mirror, jake styles his hair, just like jay’s. you first met him when he had the bleached hair, but once he’d heard the news of your breakup, he didn’t think twice about dyeing it back to black. 

jake slides the insoles into his sneakers before putting them on, matching jay’s height as he stands up. he clips on the watch around his wrist from the same brand as jay’s. 

jake gives himself a once over in the mirror, and clears his throat for one last practice before he leaves. his reflection talks like jay, walks like jay, perfectly mimics his loud laugh and his shy mannerisms. only when jake doesn’t recognise himself anymore does he feel satisfied, and texts you a quick ‘On my way cutie <3’ before grabbing his car keys from the pocket of jay’s jeans he wore yesterday on the floor. 

jake hadn’t thrown out a single possession of your ex’s like he promised you. that day he drove them to the ‘dump’ to end up in a heap of landfill, he’d actually just taken them right back to his house, where he’s since been studying them harder than his college finals. 

every handmade gift that he can recreate better, every love letter that he can plagiarise and whisper into your ear. he’s even tried learning some of jay’s homemade recipes, and bought a guitar to practise jay’s scribbled songs. he wears some clothing from jay’s closet each time he sees you. he analyses photos to pose like jay, videos to act like jay – every second of every day in his head is just jay, jay, jay. jake thinks about him so much you’d think he was in love. 

no part of jay is unknown to him. he wants to know exactly the type of man you fell so deeply in love with, so he can do it all better.

what you don’t know is that jake wanted you first, from afar – from passing by you in the halls and sitting behind you in class. all before jay just swooped in and bagged you like nothing. 

you don’t even remember jake’s existence before you met him as jay’s friend. he wasn’t memorable enough, not worthy enough. so, he had to become the man you wanted, the man your broken heart longed for: jay. 

and it’s worked better than he could’ve ever imagined. 

yesterday, while he was over, you’d shyly (adorably) admitted to jake that you used to journal. you lost motivation to keep up with it after he who shall not be named.

“you should start again,” he had suggested to you, rubbing your arm as he held you under his shoulder. “it’s a healthy hobby to have.”

“i only ever wrote when i was upset.” you looked up at him with eyes full of hearts. “i don’t need it anymore.”

so today, he has an objective. 

jake had treated you to a date night-in. he’d cooked a big, hearty meal using one of jay’s recipes – including all the fucking expensive exotic ingredients – then popped a fine wine to share over a binge of the james bond movies. jay loves them, and jay complained about how you’d fall asleep whenever he put them on.

drinking wine and watching a movie that bores you, jake hadn’t expected you to last long. and yet you’d hardly done either with your tongue down his throat and your hand palming the front of his pants. 

jake had excused himself to the bathroom before he could embarrass himself, furiously jerked off into your toilet, and by the time he returned you were knocked out on the couch. fast asleep, just like he’d planned. 

your sweet, unassuming boyfriend had tip-toed into your bedroom and gone straight for the bottom drawer of your dresser, hitting the jackpot. 

diaries. a whole stack of them. licking his lips, he pulled out his phone and opened up the first one, pressing record as he began to flip through each page. 

all of your thoughts from your relationship with jay, perfectly preserved in writing. every time he upset you, hurt you, every time you fell in and out of love. 

he moved quickly – since there’s no telling if you’d miss him in your slumber and wake up to realise he’s gone – so he could only skim the words as he flicked through, feeling his chest stir and pants tighten with the excitement. he’ll be watching the video back later anyways, when he’s alone and has the time to read it like his own personal bible. 

as much as it kills him inside to turn you down each time you’re both hot and bothered, practically fucking already through your clothes, the sole reason jake has been waiting for is this. he needed to know exactly how jay did it, how you liked it, how he kept you with him for so long. he needs to know the right steps to ensure you’ll never want to leave him. and now he’s got it, in between the pages he flicks with his finger, every word captured on camera. fucking jackpot.

“jakey?”

the diary nearly falls from his hands as you call out to him. it fumbles in his grip, and he holds onto it before it can clatter on the wooden dresser. blowing out a breath to calm himself, he responds right away, “yeah baby?” 

“where’d y’go?” you drawl back, audibly still half-asleep. 

“just getting the bed ready,” he continues to flip through the diary under the sound of his voice, recording the last few pages he needs. “i’ll carry you in, okay?” 

“m’kay..”

jake waits for minutes, putting the diary back and periodically inching the dresser shut, right until it quietly sets back into place. like he was never there. 

yeesh, not even james bond could understand the panic that just coursed through jake’s body. he did it though – he fucking did it! he’s gonna make you his for life. 

—

two pages in and jake thinks he’s scarred for life. 

he already knew you were easy.. he can tell how desperately you’ve wanted it since you’ve started dating, and he could tell throughout your entire relationship with jay. 

not just from jay’s own word of mouth – loudly bragging about how you were always down, how he ‘didn’t know how to handle all that’ – but from jake’s own ears too. he’d walk past locked bathrooms at house parties, recognising the pitch of your moans in a heartbeat through the thin walls. they’d be playing video games over discord calls, and your voice in the background of jay’s mic would disappear, his breaths growing suspiciously heavier.

being around it happening implicitly is one thing, filling the blanks with his imagination as he fucks his fist is another – but this… this is far worse. you really leave nothing to interpretation. 

you slept with jay on the first date – or rather he fucked you, so good and thoroughly that you had no choice but to keep coming back, whether or not he wanted to put a label on it you didn’t care. 

here jake is, playing the long game like a fucking idiot, when you were drunk off jay from one sip. 

he’s helpless to do anything but keep reading though, turning to the next page while it turns his guts inside out. like a car crash he just can’t look away. he needs this knowledge – he needs to know precisely how you want him inside you, so you have no choice but to believe he’s made for you. 

he memorises the words jay used to talk you through it. the details of how his hands and his mouth worked at you expertly. the nitty gritty of how he took you from behind and plowed you. how he was so rough you couldn’t do anything but scream and take it, and yet you loved every second of it. you loved him, and you would’ve let him do whatever he wanted if it meant he loved you back. 

hm. 

jake peaks under the blanket, eyes falling on the tent in his (jay’s) sweats. there’s even a few dark spots on the grey fabric. picking his phone back up, he starts reading where he left off, sighing in relief as he grips himself through the pants. 

who would’ve thought.. reading everything jay did to your body and envisioning it in his head, would have jake this hard. 

shameless, he pulls the waistband down to grip himself properly, wincing as he gathers pre on his palm before coating it over his length. jake whimpers, wrapping his fingers tight and jerking his wrist fast, forcing his eyes open so he can keep reading. 

that time when jay forced your legs apart even though you were overstimulated, how he filled your pussy to the brim with cum and ate it out, spat it in your mouth then fucked it down your throat–

jake moans pathetically as he coats his hoodie in a sudden spurt of cum. his hips kick weakly into his fist, his eyes fluttering shut as he still attempts to read what happened after jay plugged your mouth with his dick. 

with his clean hand, he checks the timestamp on the video, and groans when he sees he’s not even halfway through. he hasn’t even reached the first rough patch (of many) in the relationship, where there’s sure to be copious hate and make-up sex stories awaiting him. 

he’s in for a long night with his right hand. 

—

“jake, what are you thinking?”

jake licks his lips, tasting your spit coating them, as he buys himself time to reply. his hands run up and down your sides, squeezing the curves in his fingers as his length states his exact thoughts where it twitches below you. you chuckle as you feel it, running a hand through his tousled hair, the light scratch of your nails enough to have him whimpering softly. 

honest answer? jake’s thinking about how he spent the last 24 hours reading your diary front to back, how he memorised every single time jay fucked you throughout your entire relationship, how he tired himself out by jerking off to it all night and into the early morning. 

he’d surprised you today by coming over unannounced, capturing your lips in a kiss before you could even greet him as you opened your front door, walking you back into the couch where you’ve been buried in each other’s mouths since. 

somewhere during your needy gropes and whiney kisses, you’d taken the initiative to climb into his lap – and where he’d usually stop things before they could go further, jake had let you rut against him. desperately grinding against the sensitive heat of each other’s bodies, months worth of bottled tension finally let loose. 

“jakey,” you cooed, ripping him from his thoughts as you slowly rolled your hips against him. “what’s up?”

he huffs a laugh. “me.” you roll your eyes, quickly distracted by how his hands guide you to grind harder, earning a shudder from the boy below you. “nah, i’m just.. i still can’t believe you’re real.”

and he means that more than you could know. he’s spent years yearning over the view of the back of your head or your blurry figure in the distance, and now you’re on top of him, when all it took was fitting the mold your ex left behind. in every way.

his breath hitches, length giving another harsh pulse beneath you, and you throw your head back with a frustrated groan, “urgh, i’ve been waiting so long, jake.”

“i know,” he stifles another whimper, trying to keep a cool, collected composure as he praises you. just how you like. “you’ve done so well, baby, i’m proud of you–”

“just let me sit on your dick already!”

jake stammers, completely taken aback. he mentally cross-references how you’re behaving with him right now to how you wrote about jay. you enjoyed intimacy best when jay guided and talked you through it. you liked being manhandled, you loved being fucked, and yet you’re.. bossing jake around? 

this isn’t going how it should be…

“i want you in me, jake.” you utter, breath fanning his lips as your hand wedges between where your bodies connect. “i wanna ride you.” his eyes flutter shut at the feel of your palm gripping his length, while you grind yourself against your own hand, too worked up for how slow he’s taking this. “let me?” 

shit, he almost did. he lost himself for a moment there – slipping back into the fumbling, awkward mess he is and not the stone-faced dominant man that he’s supposed to be right now. he needs to be jay for you. 

“you think you can tell me what to do?” he sneers, grabbing your ass with a slap, hard enough to make you gasp. he pushes down the swell in his chest that feels bad for being rough. “that’s no way to get what you want, baby.”

“jake–” you squeak out, gasping again louder as he pushes you down by the hips, hard enough for his length to dig up into you with a roll of his hips. your eyes widen, from his size and from this new side of him. “i– i’m sorry..”

he hums, unconvinced. “you use your manners when you ask.” jake commands, not even recognising himself from this foreign tone of voice. he’d bet he sounds exactly like your ex with how your body turns to putty under his hands. 

you gulp, your eyes glazing over with something he doesn’t recognise. submission, must be. “please?” your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

jake pokes his cheek with his tongue – something jay did that drove you crazy – and watches the effect it has on you in real time as your hips grind on him once more, needy for some damn relief. jake’s grip on you tightens enough to make you pause, and he tuts at you in disapproval. 

“please.” you almost whine. “jake, please, i’ve needed you so bad. please let me ride you, i’ll be so good.”

the sweetest girl he’s ever known, reduced to a begging mess because of how perfectly he embodied your ex. he almost loses it again, almost gives in and lets you ride him until he sees stars, but jake locks back in with a reminder: what would jay do?

he runs through each verse of your diary he knows by heart at this point, and after coming to a conclusion of how jay would proceed – jake chuckles in your face. 

“nah.”

within a blink jake’s got you off his lap and on your back, pressed into the couch by his chest on yours. 

“we’re doing this my way,” he talks you through it as he tugs down your pants, unsurprised to find an absence of underwear. easy. “what you need, baby, is to get fucked.” you whine as his teeth nip at your neck, his tongue licking the sting. “then maybe, if you’re so good, you can ask again.” he almost cries out as his fingers find your pussy, wetness coating the tips. “nicely this time.”

“ah, jake–” you moan loudly for him, two fingers running through your folds before settling at your clit, rubbing digit eights over the throbbing bundle of nerves. 

“you’ve been waiting so long?” jake scoffs, quick fingers circling your clit as you writhe beneath him. “baby. you have no idea about me.”

“a-ah! i’m sorry!” you babble, to jake’s confusion. your big, glossy eyes find his, your puffy lips from all his kisses trembling. ah, you must be deep in it. this is seriously too easy. you’ll really get off on being talked down on by jake, just because your ex did it first?

not even a few seconds later you’re clamping your thighs around his wrist, mouth dropping open in a moan, and it takes him a moment to realise you’re cumming already. that took.. nothing. he makes sure to rub you through it, and even a little after until you’re pushing at his chest, whining that it’s too much. 

jake’s dick throbs in his sweats, the grey sweats, diary passages flashing in his mind of you writing about jay getting you off. how you’d daydream about the sex for weeks after because of how well he worked your body, how obsessed you were with it. jake almost cums in his fucking pants just thinking about how well he’s doing in mimicking your ex – and you’re drunk off it, you don’t even realise that you’re about to get fucked by the exact same man. 

jake rips off both layers restraining him almost painfully at this point, tugging them down only to his knees before he’s back on top of you, lining his cock up with your sopping pussy. you just whimper, too far gone to even beg for him anymore. 

with one thrust, jake slides all the way in, the tight fit airing out every thought in his brain. you try to hold onto him with shaky fingers, and he softly shushes each of your whimpers, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. trying to comforting you, even as you’re gripping him like a fucking vice. everything he’s ever wanted, everything he’s sacrificed his entire identity for, gripping him. wet and hot and perfect and so fucking worth it.

he’s able to hold back on cumming solely because of all the recent jerking off to your diary. he sucks in a breath through his teeth, forcing himself to speak, to keep you under his spell. 

“you feel so perfect, baby,” he kisses your forehead, and you stare up at him with that dazed look still in your eyes. “i’m gonna fucking wreck you.”

jake snaps his hips, roughly pushing every inch in, and you break off into helpless little moans as he starts to fuck you properly. he bites his lower lip, keeping all of his own in so he can stay the picture of the cold, dominant man you want so badly. he only lets you adjust to the fit while he’s fucking you, your pussy fluttering around him. it must sting, it must be pain mixed with pleasure right now, and yet you’re taking all of him without protest. because that’s just how you like it. 

once you’ve adjusted enough to stop sucking him in, jake tilts his hips to angle his thrusts up, hitting that sweet spot that has you whimpering his name. 

“yeah, baby?” he almost taunts you as he pushes himself all the way in, soiling his balls in your sticky arousal as he grinds forward, tip nudging your cervix. jake laughs through his sudden rage of jay having this under him everyday and still breaking your heart. that’d be the one difference between them – jake won’t be that stupid. “feels good huh?”

you can’t even get his name out, let alone words anymore, as you lay limply beneath him, heat blooming in your gut as he rubs his length along your g-spot. your eyes roll back into your head, lips stretching in a silent moan, and jake cusses as he realises what’s happening before you clamp down on him, too tight for him to pull back. 

you cum again, overcome with twitches through your body and around his cock, and jake just watches in bewilderment. of course you wouldn’t lie in your own diary, but.. you really are too easy. you’ve popped off twice and he’s barely gotten started. 

jake runs his hands over your body as he waits for you to come back to him, sliding his palms under your shirt to pinch and twist at your nipples. you whimper, so sensitive. 

“c’mere, baby, you’re doing so well,” he pulls your chin into a sweet kiss, right before he slides back into jay. “you’re gonna take more for me. right?”

you nod. pliant, fucked out, so so perfect.

jake smiles, thinking of where to even start with the things he wants to do to you, before remembering that one story in your diary he kept coming back to, the one he came hard to like none other. the one you said was the moment you knew you’d fallen in love with jay. 

he wants to see it happen for himself. 

jake pins your thighs down to the couch cushions, pries your legs apart, and fucks into you like a madman, like a dog in heat. he’s chasing nothing but his own release as he pounds you into the couch, and he can’t help the soft whimpers he lets slip as the aftershocks of your orgasms has your pussy fluttering around him. 

jake’s vision whites out, his ears ring, as pure bliss floods his body, his hips kicking rapidly until he’s spilling out inside of you. he’s so possessed he doesn’t even stop fucking you, not fully registering that he came with how in his head he is. what would jay sound like? how hard would jay go?

“ja..” you try to say his name, trailing off halfway. 

he opens his eyes – not even realising they closed – as he looks down at you. you’re even more gone than he is. do you even realise that it’s not your ex fucking you stupid right now? 

with a perfect face like that under him, wrapped around him, how is he ever meant to stop?

jake hisses as he pulls out abruptly, leaving a quick kiss on your lips before he crawls down, latching his mouth around your pussy. you scream for him, shoved way past overstim as his tongue ravages you, the mixture of cum gushing onto jake’s tongue. 

“j-ja–! ja– ja–!” you stutter, too weak to even get his full name out. jake’s groan rumbles on your clit, his cock leaking into the cushions as it hardens again, realising that his stuttered name sounds like you’re saying jay. 

j-jay! jay– jay–!

he’s done it. he succeeded, he won. he became jay. 

“keep on saying that, baby,” jake manages to huff out while he laps at you feverishly, the taste of your shared love lighting up his tongue as he eats the cum out of you – right until you’re letting loose for a third time, moaning that broken version of his name through it and driving him fucking insane. jake lets it all flood into his mouth, sucking his lips until he’s releasing your clit with a wet pop. 

he lifts himself up again until he’s at level with you, parting your lips with his thumb and waiting until you meet his eyes before he spits the mess of fluids directly onto your tongue. your lashes flutter, and he can see it as you sink even further into that floaty state of mind. 

“hold it.” he tells you, rising on his knees and shuffling forward, holding his cock by the base as he directs it to your mouth. “open, baby.”

you do as told, of course you do, letting jake bury himself to the hilt in the wet heat of your mouth. the underside glides over the cum still warm on your tongue, and jake shudders above you, feeling faint in the head from just how fucking hard he is for you. 

“you gotta return the favour, yeah?” he only hopes you don’t notice how breathless he is, how he’s just as much of a mess as you are. if he wasn’t putting on this whole jay persona, he’d be a fucking embarrasing bitch for you right now. 

you nod, and jake pulls out before pushing back in, tip bumping the back of your throat. he moans unabashedly, fucking the hollow of your mouth, feeling how you constrict around him. how you gag yet make no move to push him off. easy. perfect. just like jay made you, just like you are for jake to have now. 

jake snaps his hips ruthlessly until his abs tighten, his cock pulsing until he’s shooting out down your throat. he stays shaking above you, sweating all over, until slowly pulling himself out. he catches your throat bob in a gulp, and he thinks he’s ready for yet another round. 

before he can even put a thought to it though, a sudden sob from you has his entire being seizing in panic. tears burst out from your eyes, streaming down your face as you try to cover it with your hands. 

“oh no, no, hey,” jake pulls you into a hug, what jay would do the last thought in his mind as he instantly worries he took it too far. he reminded you too much of him, you caught on to his act. “baby, did i hurt you? did i–”

“no, jake,” you cut in, and he pulls back, his brows pinched in confusion. “you didn’t do anything. it all felt really good, you were really good, i just–” another sob chokes up your words, and he just shushes you as he cradles you to his chest, relief flooding all the worry in his system.

what you don’t tell him, what you chose to keep to yourself, is that you thought of jay. when jake was eating you out, and you’re sure you must’ve even said your ex’s name a few times as you came, too deep in subspace to realise what you were doing. to realise that it was your boyfriend and not the last man who’d put you there.

everything jake was doing and saying, it just.. reminded you of him, so much. you don’t miss him, you don’t still love him. it’s just hard for your body to unlearn the ways that someone else has already hammered into them. 

“i’m so sorry,” you sniffle. “jake.” you tack on, as if trying to remind your body who you’re with. 

“no, no.” he shushes you, stroking your hair. “it’s okay, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

he really is too perfect for you. you don’t know how you’ll ever deserve someone as pure as him. 

“i love you.” 

jake pulls back, eyes flitting around your face as if searching for any sign that you’re not serious. “wh– you.. you mean that?”

“i do.” you smile, and he mirrors you, lips stretching wide. “i love you, jakey.”

it’s the first time he’s heard it from you. it might be too early, but you don’t care. nothing’s too early if it’s all fate, all meant to be. 

“i love you more.” he rocks you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “more than you could ever know.”

your body stiffens as you’re suddenly transported back in time – living out a once fond memory with jay, how he’d said those exact words back after you’d said you love him first. 

jay– no, jake, just holds you tighter, snapping you clean out of your silly rumination. you curl into your boyfriend, forcing your ex out of your mind where he had no business hanging around.

jake wasn’t him, he’d never be him. what were you tripping for?

never did you see yourself experiencing a love like in the movies. the red string of fate, the twin flame, the soulmate – all concepts that were fictional to you. you got really close, once, and was humbled so badly that you had sworn off of love. you wouldn’t search for it, or even try for it ever again. 

but that’s the thing about love, isn’t it? it happens when you’re least expecting it. you don’t find it, it finds you, and pulls you under so quickly that there’s no time to resist. to you, heartbroken and hopeless you, this took form in the sudden presence of the boy called jake. 

jake had always been around – he’s a friend of your ex (he who shall not be named). not a close one, but one you still saw often at hangouts and parties. that one smiley, golden retriever boy with the bleached blonde hair. 

he was always such a gentleman with you, at least in the fleeting interactions before your ex would interrupt or steal you away. you still adored those brief moments with jake, and if your ex wasn’t so cutthroat about being the only man in your life, you might’ve found a good friend in jake. 

none of it could’ve prepared you for what you ended up finding in him instead. 

love. real love, pure love. a love that didn’t keep you waiting, that didn’t have you terrified of it vanishing. a love that was gentle and sweet and understanding. a love that you know you didn’t deserve, and yet a love he fought tooth and nail to give you. 

after your messy and very public breakup, jake swooped in like some type of guardian angel. one harmless text of him checking up on you later, and you found yourself attached to his side quicker than you could start missing your ex. 

he comforted you through it – held you in his arms when you were ugly crying, cooked meals for you when you couldn’t take care of yourself – and all he asked for in return was to continue being by your side. 

once you finally mustered the strength to leave bed after a week of rotting, jake was there to help clean your room of any traces of your ex. he then chucked all of his belongings in his car to drive to the dump, just so you didn’t have to be around the stuff any longer.

jake is a million dollar man. a once in a lifetime man. he is every bit the man that you wanted your ex to be, and better. because jake has none of his flaws. in fact, you’re not sure if jake even has any. he’s so perfect for you, and somehow, he feels like deja vu. 

you’re convinced he was a lover in your past life, someone you’ve reincarnated with to find in every reality, with how familiar he seems, how in tune he is with your needs. 

you’re so helplessly in love, and you know that someway, somehow – he loves you even more. 

—

not a day goes by where jake doesn’t think about marrying you. 

you don’t even have to do anything and already, he’s picturing you walking down the aisle, your belly swell with his child. patience, though. he needs enough for both of you. he’s been very intentional in restraining from going that far with you yet. he’s not prepared enough. but he will be, soon. 

he smiles to himself as he heart-reacts to your cute little ‘take your time handsome :)’ text, in reply to him apologising for being a few minutes late to come over. he had to wait for the dryer load to be done so he could wear his grey sweatpants – jay’s sweatpants. 

every time he wears these, without fail, you go crazy over him. the first time was a carelessly stupid mistake – you’d called him in tears, and in his rush to drive to your place, he’d thrown on the first pair of pants he could find, which he hadn’t realised was from the pile of your ex’s clothes.

by some luck, or perhaps by design, it had worked in his favour. your tears had quickly dried when you saw him walk in with those loose sweats hanging from his hips, and not long after you’d had him pressed to the couch, your lips devouring his. it was the first time you kissed him since the breakup, and it would’ve been your first time having sex since, if only jake hadn’t stopped things before they could escalate. 

you’re too affectionate for your own good. it will get your heart broken one day, and it did. but you never have to worry about that happening again – not after you handed it over to jake’s hands. 

jay may not be in your life anymore, but bits and pieces of him never really left. you don’t even realise it, but it’s why you fell for jake so hard and fast in the first place. 

jake pockets his phone into jay’s sweats. he throws a hoodie over his shirt – also jay’s – before spritzing on a layer of jay’s favourite cologne, then popping a stick of jay’s favourite gum in his mouth. referencing the polaroid taped to his mirror, jake styles his hair, just like jay’s. you first met him when he had the bleached hair, but once he’d heard the news of your breakup, he didn’t think twice about dyeing it back to black. 

jake slides the insoles into his sneakers before putting them on, matching jay’s height as he stands up. he clips on the watch around his wrist from the same brand as jay’s. 

jake gives himself a once over in the mirror, and clears his throat for one last practice before he leaves. his reflection talks like jay, walks like jay, perfectly mimics his loud laugh and his shy mannerisms. only when jake doesn’t recognise himself anymore does he feel satisfied, and texts you a quick ‘On my way cutie <3’ before grabbing his car keys from the pocket of jay’s jeans he wore yesterday on the floor. 

jake hadn’t thrown out a single possession of your ex’s like he promised you. that day he drove them to the ‘dump’ to end up in a heap of landfill, he’d actually just taken them right back to his house, where he’s since been studying them harder than his college finals. 

every handmade gift that he can recreate better, every love letter that he can plagiarise and whisper into your ear. he’s even tried learning some of jay’s homemade recipes, and bought a guitar to practise jay’s scribbled songs. he wears some clothing from jay’s closet each time he sees you. he analyses photos to pose like jay, videos to act like jay – every second of every day in his head is just jay, jay, jay. jake thinks about him so much you’d think he was in love. 

no part of jay is unknown to him. he wants to know exactly the type of man you fell so deeply in love with, so he can do it all better.

what you don’t know is that jake wanted you first, from afar – from passing by you in the halls and sitting behind you in class. all before jay just swooped in and bagged you like nothing. 

you don’t even remember jake’s existence before you met him as jay’s friend. he wasn’t memorable enough, not worthy enough. so, he had to become the man you wanted, the man your broken heart longed for: jay. 

and it’s worked better than he could’ve ever imagined. 

yesterday, while he was over, you’d shyly (adorably) admitted to jake that you used to journal. you lost motivation to keep up with it after he who shall not be named.

“you should start again,” he had suggested to you, rubbing your arm as he held you under his shoulder. “it’s a healthy hobby to have.”

“i only ever wrote when i was upset.” you looked up at him with eyes full of hearts. “i don’t need it anymore.”

so today, he has an objective. 

jake had treated you to a date night-in. he’d cooked a big, hearty meal using one of jay’s recipes – including all the fucking expensive exotic ingredients – then popped a fine wine to share over a binge of the james bond movies. jay loves them, and jay complained about how you’d fall asleep whenever he put them on.

drinking wine and watching a movie that bores you, jake hadn’t expected you to last long. and yet you’d hardly done either with your tongue down his throat and your hand palming the front of his pants. 

jake had excused himself to the bathroom before he could embarrass himself, furiously jerked off into your toilet, and by the time he returned you were knocked out on the couch. fast asleep, just like he’d planned. 

your sweet, unassuming boyfriend had tip-toed into your bedroom and gone straight for the bottom drawer of your dresser, hitting the jackpot. 

diaries. a whole stack of them. licking his lips, he pulled out his phone and opened up the first one, pressing record as he began to flip through each page. 

all of your thoughts from your relationship with jay, perfectly preserved in writing. every time he upset you, hurt you, every time you fell in and out of love. 

he moved quickly – since there’s no telling if you’d miss him in your slumber and wake up to realise he’s gone – so he could only skim the words as he flicked through, feeling his chest stir and pants tighten with the excitement. he’ll be watching the video back later anyways, when he’s alone and has the time to read it like his own personal bible. 

as much as it kills him inside to turn you down each time you’re both hot and bothered, practically fucking already through your clothes, the sole reason jake has been waiting for is this. he needed to know exactly how jay did it, how you liked it, how he kept you with him for so long. he needs to know the right steps to ensure you’ll never want to leave him. and now he’s got it, in between the pages he flicks with his finger, every word captured on camera. fucking jackpot.

“jakey?”

the diary nearly falls from his hands as you call out to him. it fumbles in his grip, and he holds onto it before it can clatter on the wooden dresser. blowing out a breath to calm himself, he responds right away, “yeah baby?” 

“where’d y’go?” you drawl back, audibly still half-asleep. 

“just getting the bed ready,” he continues to flip through the diary under the sound of his voice, recording the last few pages he needs. “i’ll carry you in, okay?” 

“m’kay..”

jake waits for minutes, putting the diary back and periodically inching the dresser shut, right until it quietly sets back into place. like he was never there. 

yeesh, not even james bond could understand the panic that just coursed through jake’s body. he did it though – he fucking did it! he’s gonna make you his for life. 

—

two pages in and jake thinks he’s scarred for life. 

he already knew you were easy.. he can tell how desperately you’ve wanted it since you’ve started dating, and he could tell throughout your entire relationship with jay. 

not just from jay’s own word of mouth – loudly bragging about how you were always down, how he ‘didn’t know how to handle all that’ – but from jake’s own ears too. he’d walk past locked bathrooms at house parties, recognising the pitch of your moans in a heartbeat through the thin walls. they’d be playing video games over discord calls, and your voice in the background of jay’s mic would disappear, his breaths growing suspiciously heavier.

being around it happening implicitly is one thing, filling the blanks with his imagination as he fucks his fist is another – but this… this is far worse. you really leave nothing to interpretation. 

you slept with jay on the first date – or rather he fucked you, so good and thoroughly that you had no choice but to keep coming back, whether or not he wanted to put a label on it you didn’t care. 

here jake is, playing the long game like a fucking idiot, when you were drunk off jay from one sip. 

he’s helpless to do anything but keep reading though, turning to the next page while it turns his guts inside out. like a car crash he just can’t look away. he needs this knowledge – he needs to know precisely how you want him inside you, so you have no choice but to believe he’s made for you. 

he memorises the words jay used to talk you through it. the details of how his hands and his mouth worked at you expertly. the nitty gritty of how he took you from behind and plowed you. how he was so rough you couldn’t do anything but scream and take it, and yet you loved every second of it. you loved him, and you would’ve let him do whatever he wanted if it meant he loved you back. 

hm. 

jake peaks under the blanket, eyes falling on the tent in his (jay’s) sweats. there’s even a few dark spots on the grey fabric. picking his phone back up, he starts reading where he left off, sighing in relief as he grips himself through the pants. 

who would’ve thought.. reading everything jay did to your body and envisioning it in his head, would have jake this hard. 

shameless, he pulls the waistband down to grip himself properly, wincing as he gathers pre on his palm before coating it over his length. jake whimpers, wrapping his fingers tight and jerking his wrist fast, forcing his eyes open so he can keep reading. 

that time when jay forced your legs apart even though you were overstimulated, how he filled your pussy to the brim with cum and ate it out, spat it in your mouth then fucked it down your throat–

jake moans pathetically as he coats his hoodie in a sudden spurt of cum. his hips kick weakly into his fist, his eyes fluttering shut as he still attempts to read what happened after jay plugged your mouth with his dick. 

with his clean hand, he checks the timestamp on the video, and groans when he sees he’s not even halfway through. he hasn’t even reached the first rough patch (of many) in the relationship, where there’s sure to be copious hate and make-up sex stories awaiting him. 

he’s in for a long night with his right hand. 

—

“jake, what are you thinking?”

jake licks his lips, tasting your spit coating them, as he buys himself time to reply. his hands run up and down your sides, squeezing the curves in his fingers as his length states his exact thoughts where it twitches below you. you chuckle as you feel it, running a hand through his tousled hair, the light scratch of your nails enough to have him whimpering softly. 

honest answer? jake’s thinking about how he spent the last 24 hours reading your diary front to back, how he memorised every single time jay fucked you throughout your entire relationship, how he tired himself out by jerking off to it all night and into the early morning. 

he’d surprised you today by coming over unannounced, capturing your lips in a kiss before you could even greet him as you opened your front door, walking you back into the couch where you’ve been buried in each other’s mouths since. 

somewhere during your needy gropes and whiney kisses, you’d taken the initiative to climb into his lap – and where he’d usually stop things before they could go further, jake had let you rut against him. desperately grinding against the sensitive heat of each other’s bodies, months worth of bottled tension finally let loose. 

“jakey,” you cooed, ripping him from his thoughts as you slowly rolled your hips against him. “what’s up?”

he huffs a laugh. “me.” you roll your eyes, quickly distracted by how his hands guide you to grind harder, earning a shudder from the boy below you. “nah, i’m just.. i still can’t believe you’re real.”

and he means that more than you could know. he’s spent years yearning over the view of the back of your head or your blurry figure in the distance, and now you’re on top of him, when all it took was fitting the mold your ex left behind. in every way.

his breath hitches, length giving another harsh pulse beneath you, and you throw your head back with a frustrated groan, “urgh, i’ve been waiting so long, jake.”

“i know,” he stifles another whimper, trying to keep a cool, collected composure as he praises you. just how you like. “you’ve done so well, baby, i’m proud of you–”

“just let me sit on your dick already!”

jake stammers, completely taken aback. he mentally cross-references how you’re behaving with him right now to how you wrote about jay. you enjoyed intimacy best when jay guided and talked you through it. you liked being manhandled, you loved being fucked, and yet you’re.. bossing jake around? 

this isn’t going how it should be…

“i want you in me, jake.” you utter, breath fanning his lips as your hand wedges between where your bodies connect. “i wanna ride you.” his eyes flutter shut at the feel of your palm gripping his length, while you grind yourself against your own hand, too worked up for how slow he’s taking this. “let me?” 

shit, he almost did. he lost himself for a moment there – slipping back into the fumbling, awkward mess he is and not the stone-faced dominant man that he’s supposed to be right now. he needs to be jay for you. 

“you think you can tell me what to do?” he sneers, grabbing your ass with a slap, hard enough to make you gasp. he pushes down the swell in his chest that feels bad for being rough. “that’s no way to get what you want, baby.”

“jake–” you squeak out, gasping again louder as he pushes you down by the hips, hard enough for his length to dig up into you with a roll of his hips. your eyes widen, from his size and from this new side of him. “i– i’m sorry..”

he hums, unconvinced. “you use your manners when you ask.” jake commands, not even recognising himself from this foreign tone of voice. he’d bet he sounds exactly like your ex with how your body turns to putty under his hands. 

you gulp, your eyes glazing over with something he doesn’t recognise. submission, must be. “please?” your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

jake pokes his cheek with his tongue – something jay did that drove you crazy – and watches the effect it has on you in real time as your hips grind on him once more, needy for some damn relief. jake’s grip on you tightens enough to make you pause, and he tuts at you in disapproval. 

“please.” you almost whine. “jake, please, i’ve needed you so bad. please let me ride you, i’ll be so good.”

the sweetest girl he’s ever known, reduced to a begging mess because of how perfectly he embodied your ex. he almost loses it again, almost gives in and lets you ride him until he sees stars, but jake locks back in with a reminder: what would jay do?

he runs through each verse of your diary he knows by heart at this point, and after coming to a conclusion of how jay would proceed – jake chuckles in your face. 

“nah.”

within a blink jake’s got you off his lap and on your back, pressed into the couch by his chest on yours. 

“we’re doing this my way,” he talks you through it as he tugs down your pants, unsurprised to find an absence of underwear. easy. “what you need, baby, is to get fucked.” you whine as his teeth nip at your neck, his tongue licking the sting. “then maybe, if you’re so good, you can ask again.” he almost cries out as his fingers find your pussy, wetness coating the tips. “nicely this time.”

“ah, jake–” you moan loudly for him, two fingers running through your folds before settling at your clit, rubbing digit eights over the throbbing bundle of nerves. 

“you’ve been waiting so long?” jake scoffs, quick fingers circling your clit as you writhe beneath him. “baby. you have no idea about me.”

“a-ah! i’m sorry!” you babble, to jake’s confusion. your big, glossy eyes find his, your puffy lips from all his kisses trembling. ah, you must be deep in it. this is seriously too easy. you’ll really get off on being talked down on by jake, just because your ex did it first?

not even a few seconds later you’re clamping your thighs around his wrist, mouth dropping open in a moan, and it takes him a moment to realise you’re cumming already. that took.. nothing. he makes sure to rub you through it, and even a little after until you’re pushing at his chest, whining that it’s too much. 

jake’s dick throbs in his sweats, the grey sweats, diary passages flashing in his mind of you writing about jay getting you off. how you’d daydream about the sex for weeks after because of how well he worked your body, how obsessed you were with it. jake almost cums in his fucking pants just thinking about how well he’s doing in mimicking your ex – and you’re drunk off it, you don’t even realise that you’re about to get fucked by the exact same man. 

jake rips off both layers restraining him almost painfully at this point, tugging them down only to his knees before he’s back on top of you, lining his cock up with your sopping pussy. you just whimper, too far gone to even beg for him anymore. 

with one thrust, jake slides all the way in, the tight fit airing out every thought in his brain. you try to hold onto him with shaky fingers, and he softly shushes each of your whimpers, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. trying to comforting you, even as you’re gripping him like a fucking vice. everything he’s ever wanted, everything he’s sacrificed his entire identity for, gripping him. wet and hot and perfect and so fucking worth it.

he’s able to hold back on cumming solely because of all the recent jerking off to your diary. he sucks in a breath through his teeth, forcing himself to speak, to keep you under his spell. 

“you feel so perfect, baby,” he kisses your forehead, and you stare up at him with that dazed look still in your eyes. “i’m gonna fucking wreck you.”

jake snaps his hips, roughly pushing every inch in, and you break off into helpless little moans as he starts to fuck you properly. he bites his lower lip, keeping all of his own in so he can stay the picture of the cold, dominant man you want so badly. he only lets you adjust to the fit while he’s fucking you, your pussy fluttering around him. it must sting, it must be pain mixed with pleasure right now, and yet you’re taking all of him without protest. because that’s just how you like it. 

once you’ve adjusted enough to stop sucking him in, jake tilts his hips to angle his thrusts up, hitting that sweet spot that has you whimpering his name. 

“yeah, baby?” he almost taunts you as he pushes himself all the way in, soiling his balls in your sticky arousal as he grinds forward, tip nudging your cervix. jake laughs through his sudden rage of jay having this under him everyday and still breaking your heart. that’d be the one difference between them – jake won’t be that stupid. “feels good huh?”

you can’t even get his name out, let alone words anymore, as you lay limply beneath him, heat blooming in your gut as he rubs his length along your g-spot. your eyes roll back into your head, lips stretching in a silent moan, and jake cusses as he realises what’s happening before you clamp down on him, too tight for him to pull back. 

you cum again, overcome with twitches through your body and around his cock, and jake just watches in bewilderment. of course you wouldn’t lie in your own diary, but.. you really are too easy. you’ve popped off twice and he’s barely gotten started. 

jake runs his hands over your body as he waits for you to come back to him, sliding his palms under your shirt to pinch and twist at your nipples. you whimper, so sensitive. 

“c’mere, baby, you’re doing so well,” he pulls your chin into a sweet kiss, right before he slides back into jay. “you’re gonna take more for me. right?”

you nod. pliant, fucked out, so so perfect.

jake smiles, thinking of where to even start with the things he wants to do to you, before remembering that one story in your diary he kept coming back to, the one he came hard to like none other. the one you said was the moment you knew you’d fallen in love with jay. 

he wants to see it happen for himself. 

jake pins your thighs down to the couch cushions, pries your legs apart, and fucks into you like a madman, like a dog in heat. he’s chasing nothing but his own release as he pounds you into the couch, and he can’t help the soft whimpers he lets slip as the aftershocks of your orgasms has your pussy fluttering around him. 

jake’s vision whites out, his ears ring, as pure bliss floods his body, his hips kicking rapidly until he’s spilling out inside of you. he’s so possessed he doesn’t even stop fucking you, not fully registering that he came with how in his head he is. what would jay sound like? how hard would jay go?

“ja..” you try to say his name, trailing off halfway. 

he opens his eyes – not even realising they closed – as he looks down at you. you’re even more gone than he is. do you even realise that it’s not your ex fucking you stupid right now? 

with a perfect face like that under him, wrapped around him, how is he ever meant to stop?

jake hisses as he pulls out abruptly, leaving a quick kiss on your lips before he crawls down, latching his mouth around your pussy. you scream for him, shoved way past overstim as his tongue ravages you, the mixture of cum gushing onto jake’s tongue. 

“j-ja–! ja– ja–!” you stutter, too weak to even get his full name out. jake’s groan rumbles on your clit, his cock leaking into the cushions as it hardens again, realising that his stuttered name sounds like you’re saying jay. 

j-jay! jay– jay–!

he’s done it. he succeeded, he won. he became jay. 

“keep on saying that, baby,” jake manages to huff out while he laps at you feverishly, the taste of your shared love lighting up his tongue as he eats the cum out of you – right until you’re letting loose for a third time, moaning that broken version of his name through it and driving him fucking insane. jake lets it all flood into his mouth, sucking his lips until he’s releasing your clit with a wet pop. 

he lifts himself up again until he’s at level with you, parting your lips with his thumb and waiting until you meet his eyes before he spits the mess of fluids directly onto your tongue. your lashes flutter, and he can see it as you sink even further into that floaty state of mind. 

“hold it.” he tells you, rising on his knees and shuffling forward, holding his cock by the base as he directs it to your mouth. “open, baby.”

you do as told, of course you do, letting jake bury himself to the hilt in the wet heat of your mouth. the underside glides over the cum still warm on your tongue, and jake shudders above you, feeling faint in the head from just how fucking hard he is for you. 

“you gotta return the favour, yeah?” he only hopes you don’t notice how breathless he is, how he’s just as much of a mess as you are. if he wasn’t putting on this whole jay persona, he’d be a fucking embarrasing bitch for you right now. 

you nod, and jake pulls out before pushing back in, tip bumping the back of your throat. he moans unabashedly, fucking the hollow of your mouth, feeling how you constrict around him. how you gag yet make no move to push him off. easy. perfect. just like jay made you, just like you are for jake to have now. 

jake snaps his hips ruthlessly until his abs tighten, his cock pulsing until he’s shooting out down your throat. he stays shaking above you, sweating all over, until slowly pulling himself out. he catches your throat bob in a gulp, and he thinks he’s ready for yet another round. 

before he can even put a thought to it though, a sudden sob from you has his entire being seizing in panic. tears burst out from your eyes, streaming down your face as you try to cover it with your hands. 

“oh no, no, hey,” jake pulls you into a hug, what jay would do the last thought in his mind as he instantly worries he took it too far. he reminded you too much of him, you caught on to his act. “baby, did i hurt you? did i–”

“no, jake,” you cut in, and he pulls back, his brows pinched in confusion. “you didn’t do anything. it all felt really good, you were really good, i just–” another sob chokes up your words, and he just shushes you as he cradles you to his chest, relief flooding all the worry in his system.

what you don’t tell him, what you chose to keep to yourself, is that you thought of jay. when jake was eating you out, and you’re sure you must’ve even said your ex’s name a few times as you came, too deep in subspace to realise what you were doing. to realise that it was your boyfriend and not the last man who’d put you there.

everything jake was doing and saying, it just.. reminded you of him, so much. you don’t miss him, you don’t still love him. it’s just hard for your body to unlearn the ways that someone else has already hammered into them. 

“i’m so sorry,” you sniffle. “jake.” you tack on, as if trying to remind your body who you’re with. 

“no, no.” he shushes you, stroking your hair. “it’s okay, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

he really is too perfect for you. you don’t know how you’ll ever deserve someone as pure as him. 

“i love you.” 

jake pulls back, eyes flitting around your face as if searching for any sign that you’re not serious. “wh– you.. you mean that?”

“i do.” you smile, and he mirrors you, lips stretching wide. “i love you, jakey.”

it’s the first time he’s heard it from you. it might be too early, but you don’t care. nothing’s too early if it’s all fate, all meant to be. 

“i love you more.” he rocks you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “more than you could ever know.”

your body stiffens as you’re suddenly transported back in time – living out a once fond memory with jay, how he’d said those exact words back after you’d said you love him first. 

jay– no, jake, just holds you tighter, snapping you clean out of your silly rumination. you curl into your boyfriend, forcing your ex out of your mind where he had no business hanging around.

jake wasn’t him, he’d never be him. what were you tripping for?