𝓷𝓸𝔁

words couldn't describe the feelings that stirred inside leehan as he walked through the school halls ditching class to try and clear his head.

he woke up this morning like any other. Got ready, had breakfast, and was out the door before anyone else in the house had woken up. not because he had something against his family but because he was scared.

scared that they'd notice the sin on him.

scared that they'd put the pieces together sooner or later.

he'd sinned a sin that no amount of prayer can ever wash away.

a few weeks ago, he'd finally convinced his parents to attend a party with friends. Promised to stay sober, to be good, and keep his hands to himself.

Leehan got himself ready, basically bouncing off the walls from both excitement and fear.

a mix of both that made his stomach feel weird.

Texts flooded his phone as the group chat with friends started blowing up all sending updates of who can go, who can't, who's bringing what, and who can pick others up.

Leehan quickly texted his best friend- taesan, asking him if he still had any space left in his car for another person, and thankfully, he did.

the brunette wasn't too worried about bringing anything.

He didn't know the host. No one really did, and he was showing up with four other people.

He should be fine.

After around twenty minutes, a loud honk was heard, and leehan basically sprinted out of the house, going straight for the car without spearing much of a glance back.

"I didn't think your mom would actually let you come." said taesan, unlocking the passenger door and opening it from the inside.

"I didn't think so either, honestly. I think dad may have convinced her more than any of my please did."

"Well, at least you're joining us. don't worry, we'll keep you safe and sound."

before leehan could say anything a loud myung jaehyun whined as two other guys he's never seen before laughed pocking fun at jaehyun.

"I've actually never met the two of you." he spoke up, turning back to get a better look at the two fully ignoring jaehyuns complaints.

"Oh hi, yes, I'm sohee, and that's hanbin. we are on the football team with jaehyun, which could be why, but we've heard a lot about you, so don't worry."

leehan just nodded a bright smile on sohees face as he turned back to whatever they were doing back there.

"I hope you know it's gonna be a big crowd..." taesan spoke up again, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel a bit worried about his best friend.

"as much as I'd love to stick by your side 24/7 I can't promise you that. I will be drinking tonight."

sure they were best freinds, both in a heavily religious school just like everyone else in the car but only leehan actually stood by the rules. followed what the book said, what the teachers and pasters said, and most importantly, what his parents said.

don't touch.

don't drink.

don't smoke.

no sex or anything of that sorts.

no dating.

and everything else you could possibly think of that strips all the fun and joy out of his life.

everything was a sin if you looked hard enough.

that's what he was told.

"Don't worry. I don't expect you to babysit. I'll just enjoy my time there, and you better do so too."

taesan stayed quiet, not too sure if he could believe those words but choosing not to worry himself too much.

his best friend followed the rules to a tea.

he'll be fine.

right?

the house was huge.

music could be heard down the street, people dancing inside, bright lights, some outside smoking, and enjoying the night.

the air inside was insanely stuffy.

it carried a heavy scent of sweat and something sweeter. maybe alcohol maybe just his nose was playing tricks on him.

everyone went their own way the moment they stepped inside. sohee went to drinks, jeahyun quickly found a different group of people, hanbin went straight to a guy, leehans never seen before and taesan...he doesn't even know where that one disappeared to.

leehan was alone in a place he's never been at.

great.

he tried to navigate through the crowds to get to a place less crowded but gave up eventually when every attempt ended in him accidentally touching a girls boob which was wrong in his mind.

the brunette stayed in a corner.

no cup in hand, no one to talk to just...watching.

inevitably someone caught his eye.

a guy with blonde hair and a sweet smile talking to some girl who was obviously hitting on him.

that was the first time in leehans life that he felt actual attraction.

his stomach filled with butterflies, his face got so hot, and his heart was practically ready to jump out of his chest.

he was nothing special really.

just a random guy.

a guy.

alarm bells rung in his head louder then ever.

he couldn't like a guy. that was against his beliefs.

Apparently, leehan had been starting for too long, too obviously, and the guy noticed bringing him back down on to earth.

the blonde offered him a smile. warm and simple. a very easygoing gesture like it was the most natural thing to do.

leehan gave him a small smile back, feeling like a school girl with a pathetic hallway crush.

before he could think too hard on how to react to that taesan appeared next to him a cup in hand slightly looser then the last time he saw him.

"sooo, how are you enjoying the night so far?" he spoke his words slured and reeking of alcohol as he draped himself over the brunette, noticing the dazed look on his best freinds face.

"What's got you so distracted, huh? a girl caught your attention?" he teased a smirk on his face as he looked towards the directions that the other was staring at. The blonde head of hair and a face that was not close to a girl immediately caught his off guard.

"oh shit."

"yeah. I know."

taesan straightened up and placed his cup in leehans hand, patting his shoulder, trying his very best to support this very obviously bad situation.

"you will need that more then I will. it won't kill you I promise."

and with that taesan left again disappearing into a crowd of bodies.

against his better judgement, against everything that's ever been said or taught to him, he drank whatever was in that cup. It burned slightly, but it was surprisingly sweet, going down relatively easily.

That's when the night really got fun.

One cup wasn't enough.

He got another after pushing through the crowd, finding himself at the kitchen, then another something stronger now that some stranger had suggested, and finally, somehow, he got himself into shots with the blonde.

leehans face was beat red from the alcohol but he got liquid courage even if he lost the game by a long shot.

"do you wanna dance with me?" he asked, standing in front of the blonde, his hands already moving to the other, pulling him into the crowd before he could respond.

it took a second to get used to.

leehans never danced with anyone in such a setting, let alone drunk, but the moment the others hands found his waist and moved with him, he just melted.

"my names leehan by the way." he spoke again staring into the brown eyes that moved with him.

"I'm y/n. nice to meet you, leehan." his voice felt like honey dripping down him, coating him in something so addictive yet so dangerous. One wrong move, and he'd slip.

The way y/n looked at him was even worse.

he had his full attention on the brunette watching every move, touching him lightly like he himself was treading on thin ice, the blonde strands stuck to his forehead from sweat same as his.

it was electric.

but wrong.

before he could think twice his lips crashed into the others.

Leehan didn't know what he was doing at all, but thankfully, y/n did. Their lips moved together, slowly but surely until eventually they pulled apart and moved through the crowds to find an empty room.

Once found, leehan was the first to make the move again. He quickly pushed the blonde against the door, moving his hands to rest on his hips, lips attached to his again.

It was a feeling he's never felt before.

Pure genuine want that it cursed through his whole body, not leaving even the slightest space for everything that's been drilled into him.

Soft moans spilled between the two of them as it slowly got more heated. Tongue against tongue, teeth, and spit. it didn't take a genius to figure out how this ended.

His head ached, the sun was too bright in his face, but before he could even complain, a very sudden realisation washed over him.

He was naked.

like, fully naked.

and judging from the smell that lingered next to him, the light snoring and the heavy arm around his torso, he could also guess that he had slept with a man.

Nausea hit him quickly.

Not really sure if it was from the alcohol or the sex but he quickly got out of the bed and rushed to find a bathroom.

Pucking his guts out first thing in the morning wasn't the best feeling.

not at all.

Guilt washed over him from so many sides.

he hadn't stuck to his promises at all.

he sinned.

badly at that.

it ate at him knowing he now had to go back into the room, get dressed and go home to act like nothing happened.

Go to church and pray that God will forgive him.

pray that he'll still go to heaven.

pray that he's still pure enough for that.

thankfully y/n didn't wake up. leehan made sure to be quiet.

He didn't bother trying to call or text anyone to pick him up and just walked home.

Every step felt heavy and he didn't even know what to blame for that.

taesan for giving him the alcohol, himself for drinking so much and letting this happen, or y/n for even agreeing to dance with him.

Regardless, the walk back home was spent silently praying in his mind that he'll be okay.

he'll never do something so dirty again.

No one was home when he stepped through the door, so he made a be line for the bathroom and spent the next hour scrubbing his skin raw muttering prays and apologises, trying to clean himself.

trying to pretend like the touch didn't linger.

that he did intact enjoy it.

He felt seen like never before last night. every touch so light it was like a feather, every moan, every whimper that felt so real it was almost painful how much it kept playing in his mind. the pure gentleness of the blonde, the care and vulnerability he felt with him making him feel sicker by the minute.

it was so twisted.

so wrong yet so good.

leehan wasn't sure when he started crying or when the warm water ran out and turned luck warm.

what mattered is that he was praying.

scrubbing the dirty sin away.

right?

the next few days passed by in a blur.

he prayed extra hard on Sunday, didn't leave his room on Saturday, spent Monday, Thursday, and Wednesday trying his beat to focus on school and whatever bullshit the teachers were talking about.

it was no use.

every blonde head in the halls made him stop dead in his tracks. Every look that lingered from others made his skin crawl thinking they knew. they had to know.

he never looked for the blonde again.

and it seemed like the blonde never looked for him either.

but he lingered.

He may always linger.

he was a sinner, and he needed to live with that for the rest of his life.

but even with that knowledge, he found comfort in knowing he wasn't the only one who sinned that night.

the question was, when will the night leave his mind?

when will he ever feel that good again?

___________________

You’d been going to the Lee’s beach house every summer since you were a baby. Hell, you’d been there when you were in your moms womb. You aren’t sure when it stopped being a summer vacation and it started being closer to home, but it had.

You think Heeseung might've had something to do with that.

He was two years older than you (the same age as your brother, Jay), but he never used it to his advantage like your brother did. He didn’t treat you like you were some snot-nosed little kid he was forced to hang out with. He never dismissed you when you asked to bike with them or play pool volleyball.

Your brother would groan with frustration, mumbling about how you “need to get your own life”, to which you’d deliver him a smack upside the head.

Heeseung would smile, all teeth and crinkled eyes, and he’d always say the same thing.

“I’ve never been good at saying no to you.”

You’d smirk at getting your way, and Jay would always give Heeseung a look, like he was trying to make sense of something that simply wasn’t there yet. Like he understood something that neither you nor Heeseung did just yet.

The summer you turned eight years old, your mom finally decided you knew the area well enough to ride on your bike by yourself. You’d just recently gotten off of training wheels, and while you weren’t permitted to go past the big oak tree at the end of the street, it still felt like she was releasing you from the confines of her watchful eyes. Like she was handing you the world and trusting you not to break it.

You spent the entire afternoon riding up and down the street, imagining you were chasing pirates or riding away in a carriage. It was still June, so the sun wasn’t too harsh. Not like it got in July and August–those were the months that made you wonder if the earth really was gradually moving closer to the sun.

You aren’t sure exactly how it happened. A stray rock, or maybe just a gust of wind that blew a little too hard, but either way something sent you flying off of the bike. 

Your knees got the worst of it, the skin scraping off and crimson beginning to pool in its place. It really didn’t even hurt that bad, but the way it looked is what scared you the most.

You don’t know how long you spent crying on the curb, bike abandoned in the street and cheeks red with embarrassment. Your first time on your own and this is all you have to show for it–bloodied knees and a scratched-up bike.

You didn’t even hear him approach, not until he sat down silently next to you. He was only ten, but it still felt so much older than you. Like even in his youth he was infinitely wise and you were fighting just to be able to keep up.

You didn’t look up at him. You couldn’t. You were too ashamed. So you kept your face buried in your hands and did your best to quiet your sobs into little hiccups.

Heeseung didn’t say anything for a long time. He didn’t need to. He just let you cry and stayed next to you, like he was waiting for you to come to him. 

You sniffled and rubbed at your wet cheeks, your eyes puffy and throat aching. “I-I wanted to show mom that I was ready.” You managed through cries, “But what if-if I’m not?”

Heeseung listened, eyes never leaving the side of your face. He’d always been better at listening than responding, but you never minded. You could talk enough for the both of you (a fact Jay never missed the opportunity to tease you for).

He didn’t move while you rambled, didn’t try to interrupt you or make any excuses to leave even though you’re sure he’d rather be doing anything else. Instead, he waited patiently for you to finish and for your sobbing to turn into little hiccups, and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of Barbie Band-Aids.

Jay hated them, always complaining that they were too girly, but you loved the pink designs. You always wore them with pride, even when there was no reason too. You told your mom you were making a fashion statement, and she never argued. Part of you wonders if she just liked watching you place them in the most inconvenient places.

He pulled the wrapping off with ease and placed each one over your knees. “There,” He mumbled, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Now you can’t even see it.”

He was right, of course. Now, instead of two glaring gashes on your knees, there was Barbie's blonde hair and bright blue eyes. You stared down at them, and then back to him. He was smiling at you, but it wasn't the one he usually gave you–the one that was all teeth and bright eyes. This one was softer. Kinder. Something that felt like it was meant just for you.

“Everyone falls down sometimes, [Y/N].” He said, the words falling from his lips like they were fact. “What matters is if we get up or not.”

You blinked. You meant it when you said he’d always felt wise beyond his years, because what kind of ten year old says something like that? 

You couldn’t help the giggle that forced its way past your lips, any sadness you’d felt slowly dissipating until it felt like a distant memory. “You sound like your mom.” You teased.

Heeseung shook his head, rolling his eyes playfully. He didn't mind if you laughed at his expense, as long as you weren’t crying.

“Good.”

You both let the silence hang over you after that, the warm breeze weaving between the two of you like a comforting hug. 

After a moment, Heeseung swallowed, picking at his fingers nervously. A habit he’d always had and one his mom insisted he get rid of. “You know that as long as I’m around, you don’t need to worry, right?”

You didn’t know how to respond. Of course you knew that, but why was he telling you this now? And why did he look like he’d explode if he didn't get it off of his chest at this very moment?

“I’ll always be here when you need me.” He murmured, his tone more serious than you’d ever heard him. “I’ll always protect you.” 

He stuck his pinky out to you then, a silent offering. You accepted it without hesitation, your finger wrapping around his. 

“I promise.”

And you truly believed him.

tag list is open!!

but you're already leaning into him, your hand finding his knee through the soft gray fabric of his sweatpants.

"i'm serious! think about it, babe."

your voice is that special kind of excited, the one soobin usually hears when you're explaining a new game you're completely obsessed with or suggesting a takeout place you've been dying to try.

"we've never done it like that. it's always, you know... we're both already hard, and it's kind of rushed and intense. but this..." you squeeze his knee, your thumb tracing a small circle. "this would be different. slower. we could just... be together. and feel everything."

soobin's heart is doing something erratic in his chest.

he's still holding his pen, still surrounded by highlighters and flashcards, and his ridiculously attractive boyfriend is sitting on his bed, talking about his dick like it's the most natural thing in the world. which, okay, it is, they've been together for eight months, they're past the awkward stage. but this is... new.

"you want to..." soobin swallows, his throat suddenly dry. he glances down at his own lap, then back at you, his cheeks impossibly pinker. "you want to sit on it? while it's... you know?"

"soft, yeah."

you nod enthusiastically, scooting closer, and your thigh presses against his.

"i just keep thinking about what it would feel like. the sensation of it... waking up inside me. getting harder because of me, because of us," your voice drops a little, losing some of its excited energy and gaining something warmer, something more intimate. "i think it would feel really good, babe. really close."

and that's the thing.

soobin has never been able to deny you anything when you look at him like that, when your voice goes soft and you say his name like it means something more than just letters strung together. he's completely, utterly gone for you, and you know it. you use that power sometimes, but never cruelly. always like this — to pull him closer, to bring him into a moment with you.

he sets his pen down carefully, marking his place in the textbook with a sticky note; a small, practical gesture that's so distinctly him that it makes your heart clench.

"you really want to?" soobin asks softly, his voice quieter now, a little shy.

"yeah, more than anything right now," you admit, and it's the truth.

the textbook, the phone, the outside world — it's all completely faded away. there is just soobin, in his ridiculously soft-looking oversized white t-shirt and those grey sweatpants that you've told him a hundred times should be illegal, his dark hair falling over his forehead, his glasses framing those warm, curious eyes that are currently fixed entirely on you.

soobin bites his lower lip, a telltale sign that he's thinking, he's considering. then, slowly, he shifts on the bed, putting his textbook on the nightstand. he leans back against the headboard, the wood creaking softly, and his long legs stretch out, then bend slightly, creating a space for you, an invitation.

"okay," he breathes out, the word carrying a mix of nervousness and genuine curiosity. "let's... let's try."

and oh, you don't need to be told twice.

you're moving immediately, crawling over the messy comforter to settle between your boyfriend’s legs. soobin watches you, his hands coming up to softly rest on your hips as you straddle him, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs.

you're face to face now, close enough to see the tiny mole under his eye, the way his eyelashes flutter.

"hi," you whisper, a stupid, giddy smile spreading across your face.

a matching smile tugs at soobin's lips, despite his obvious embarrassment.

"hi," he whispers back. his hands are warm through the thin fabric of your pajama pants. "this is so weird."

"good weird or bad weird?"

"just... weird. different."

soobin ducks his head slightly, looking at where your bodies meet, at the tentatively interested bulge in his own pants that's nowhere near full attention.

"are you sure you're gonna be comfortable? what if—"

you cut him off with a kiss; it's soft, just a brush of lips, simply meant to soothe.

"we'll go slow. if it's weird or uncomfortable, we can just stop. okay?"

soobin nods against your mouth. "okay."

you kiss him again, deeper this time, and you feel his huge hands tighten on your hips. you rock forward experimentally, just a small shift of weight, and soobin makes a tiny sound against your lips.

you break the kiss to sit back slightly, your hands finding the hem of his oversized t-shirt. "can i?"

soobin lifts his arms without a word, and you pull the shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere behind you, and your breath catches, like it always does.

you've already seen him naked countless times, but the sight of his pretty bare chest, the smooth expanse of pale skin, the subtle definition of muscle from carrying heavy books and the occasional gym session with his friends — it never gets old. he's beautiful in a way that feels accidental, unassuming.

soobin doesn't seem to fully realize how hot he is, and that, somehow, makes him even hotter.

your fingers find the waistband of his sweatpants, and you look at him for permission. once again, soobin gives a small, shy nod. you tug them down, along with his boxers, just enough. his cock lies soft against his thigh, and you feel a fresh wave of heat pool in your stomach. it's still him, still soobin, still the part of him that makes you feel so incredibly full and complete.

it's just... resting.

you shimmy out of your own pajama pants and boxers quickly, not wanting to break the moment. when you settle back on his lap, it's skin-to-skin, his soft length pressed against the curve of your ass. soobin hisses in a breath, his fingers digging into your hips.

you position yourself carefully, one hand on soobin’s shoulder for balance, the other reaching down to guide him. your eyes meet his.

"ready?"

he looks terrified and thrilled in equal measure.

"ready."

you shift your weight, lowering yourself slowly. the head of soobin’s soft cock presses against your entrance, and for a moment, it just... sits there. it's an odd sensation, really — the familiar pressure, but without the familiar hardness. it feels almost impossibly soft, pliable.

you take a breath and push down gently.

the slide is different; way slower. there is no resistance in the same way, because he's soft, but your body still has to accommodate his size. even soft, soobin is... well, considerable. you feel yourself stretching around him, taking him in inch by inch, and the sensation is so unique, so new, that a shaky moan escapes your lips.

soobin's eyes are wide.

"oh," he breathes. "oh, wow."

"you okay?" you manage to ask, pausing when you're about halfway seated.

soobin nods frantically, his hands softly stroking up and down your sides.

"y-yeah. it's just... it feels so warm, and so tight. but it's also different. it's like... i can feel everything. i can feel every part of you."

you lower yourself the rest of the way, and then you're fully seated, his soft cock buried completely inside you. you sit there for a moment, just breathing, just feeling; the weight of him, the fullness, the strange, intimate knowledge that he's inside you but not hard inside you.

it's like a secret, a moment stolen from time.

you're both still for a long, breathless moment. soobin's hands are splayed across your lower back, warm and grounding, and you can feel his heartbeat, or maybe it's yours — it's hard to tell anymore when you're this close.

"how does it feel?" you whisper, your forehead resting against his.

"warm," he repeats, his voice soft with wonder. "and... tight. but it's like..." he struggles for words, his brow furrowing adorably. "it's like i can feel you holding me. not like... fucking. just holding."

you smile, pressing a gentle kiss to soobin’s lips.

"yeah. that's what i wanted."

you start to move, but not in any real rhythm.

just small, subtle shifts of your hips. you were rocking, more than anything, simply testing the sensation. with each tiny movement, you feel him, soft and pliant, moving inside you, and it's incredibly intimate in a way you hadn't tully anticipated.

soobin's hands roam your back, your sides, his touch full of reverence. your boyfriend is looking at you like you're something so precious, something he can't quite believe is real. his cheeks are still flushed that pretty pink you love so much, his lips slightly parted.

"you're so beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself.

you feel a flutter of warmth in your chest that has nothing to do with where you're connected.

"so are you."

you kiss him again, deeper this time. your tongue slides against his, slow and exploratory, and soobin’s hands come up to cup your face, holding you close. the kiss deepens, becomes more urgent, more hungry. you feel his hips twitch beneath you, a small, unconscious thrust.

and then, finally, you feel it — the slightest change; a thickening, a growing weight inside you. you gasp against his mouth at the very new sensation, pulling back just enough to look at him.

soobin’s eyes are hazy, his pupils blown wide.

"soobin," you breathe. "i can feel you."

he looks down, as if he could see through both your bodies to where they're joined.

"it's you," soobin whispers, his voice wrecked. "it's because of you. you feel so good."

another small, unconscious thrust. another surge of growth. soobin’s cock is filling out inside you, pressing against your walls in a way it couldn't when it was soft. the sensation is really overwhelming — the gradual stretch, the increasing fullness… you can feel every ridge, every vein as they become more pronounced.

you can feel soobin getting harder because of you, because of the way your body is wrapped around him, because of the kisses, because of the closeness.

"oh—my god," soobin pathetically whimpers, his head falling back against the headboard. his hands grip your hips tighter, his knuckles white. "oh my god, that feels... that feels so..."

"i know," you groan, and you start to move with more purpose now, rolling your hips in a slow circle. each movement seems to encourage him, to draw more blood, more hardness. "i can feel every second of it. you're getting so hard inside me, babe."

soobin makes a sound that's somewhere between a moan and a whine, high-pitched and desperate.

"d-don't stop. please don't stop."

you don't. you keep moving, keep kissing him, keep whispering praise against his lips.

"feel how good you feel. feel how perfectly you fit."

"i can't—" soobin cuts himself off with another whine, his hips starting to thrust up in small, jerky movements that meet your rolls. "it's too much. it feels too good."

"it's not too much," you assure him, your hand coming up to card through his soft hair, pushing it back from his forehead. "you're doing so well. just feel it. feel me."

soobin is fully hard now, thick and heavy inside you, and the transition from soft to hard has left you both breathless and shaking. you've never experienced anything like it — the gradual, inexorable filling, the knowledge that his arousal is a direct response to you, to this moment. it's really intoxicating.

"i wanna move," soobin begs, his voice cracking. "please, baby, please can i move? i need—i need to—"

you simply nod, unable to form words properly. you lift yourself slightly, and soobin thrusts up, a real thrust this time, deep and sure. you both moan, the sound mingling in the small space between you.

"y-yeah," you gasp. "like that. just like that—"

soobin sets a rhythm, slow at first, still overwhelmed by the newness of it all. his thrusts are deep, deliberate, each one punching a soft sound from your lips, and his hands are everywhere — your hips, your back, your face.

he can't stop touching you, can't stop looking at you.

"you're so perfect," soobin babbles, his words tumbling out between kisses and pretty moans. "so perfect for me. i love you so much. i love being inside you. i love—ah!—i love feeling you."

you capture his mouth with yours, swallowing his words, his every sounds. you simply love him like this — open, vulnerable, completely undone by you. the pretty nerd who annotates his textbooks and makes color-coded study guides, reduced to a whining, desperate mess because of how you feel around him.

you start to meet his thrusts, matching his rhythm, making it deeper and harder. the bed creaks beneath you, the sound joining the wet, obscene noises of your bodies coming together.

"i'm close," soobin warns, his voice tight.

he's gripping you so hard you know there will be bruises tomorrow, and you can't bring yourself to care.

"i'm so close, baby, where do you want—"

"inside," you moans. "stay inside—wanna feel you come inside me."

soobin’s eyes roll back slightly at your words, and his thrusts become erratic, losing their rhythm. he's chasing his release, but he's also watching you, making sure you're with him. your boyfriend’s hand snakes down between your bodies, finding your cock, stroking you in time with his thrusts.

it only takes a few more strokes; you come with a broken cry of his name, your body clenching around him, and that's all it takes to push soobin over the edge. he follows with a desperate, high-pitched moan, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and deep.

for a long moment, neither of you moves.

you're both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, sharing the same humid air. soobin's hands are still on you, but they've gone soft, just resting.

right now, you can feel him softening inside you, the reverse of the sensation from before, and it's just as incredible in its own way.

finally, you shift, wincing slightly at the oversensitivity, and soobin's hands immediately try to hold you still.

"wait," he murmurs. "just... wait a second. i'm not ready to not be inside you yet."

you smile, pressing a kiss to his nose.

"okay."

you simply stay like that for a long time, connected, breathing together. soobin’s thumbs trace absent patterns on your skin, and your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

the room slowly cools around you, but you're both warm, wrapped up in each other.

"that was..." he trails off, searching for the right word.

"incredible?" you offer.

"yeah," soobin laughs softly, a little puff of air against your lips. "incredible. you always have the best ideas."

"i know," you tease, but you're smiling too.

eventually, you have to move.

the practicalities of cleanup, of bodily functions, of reality intruding on the perfect bubble you've created. but even as you disentangle yourselves, even as soobin disappears into his attached bathroom and returns with a warm, damp washcloth to clean you both with gentle, careful hands, the intimacy doesn't break.

when you finally settle back into bed, both of you having pulled on fresh boxers, soobin immediately pulls you against his chest. he's warm and solid, and you can feel his heartbeat, still slightly elevated, against your cheek.

"so," you mumble against his skin. "worth interrupting your study session?"

soobin laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest.

"my biology textbook can wait. this was..." he pauses, and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. "this was the best kind of practical application."

you snort, elbowing him gently. "such a nerd."

the room falls into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes after moments of profound intimacy.

outside, the city continues its endless hum.

inside, in soobin's small, cluttered bedroom, there's just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, sated and sleepy and utterly, completely in love.

you really don’t know how it happened. one moment you were asking your sweet boyfriend to take pictures of you on your new camera and the next he has you pinned down, skirt tossed up, with his face buried in your cunt.

“nghh, y-yun please!”

jake peers up at you from between your thighs, his fluffy brown hair a tangled mess from your fingers and his big pointy nose glistening from your heavenly juices. he only groans in response, his focus on your throbbing clit that he is currently suckling between his plump lips, causing you to thrash beneath his grasp.

“please what, bunny?” his slender fingers tug your panties farther to the side, granting him more access to your needy cunt. “ya keep beggin’ but not telling me what for, hm?” he hums into your folds, the tip of his skilled muscle dragging down from your sweet bundle of nerves towards your entrance without breaking eye contact.

“mm p-please i. . . i want you inside,” you whine out pathetically, covering your flushed face in embarrassment which only makes jake chuckle lightly in response at your cuteness. his eyes flicker towards the digital camera propped against the nightstand, the red dot flashing at you almost tauntingly.

his gaze wanders up with a thoughtful expression, lips curled in a small pout — but you could already tell he was merely pretending to consider your request.

“nah, i have a better idea.”

“fuck— fuck! hold still babydoll,” jake pants as his thick, veiny cock disappears into the makeshift hole he ripped in the bottom of your little panties. the large print of his shaft bulging through the soaked thin fabric from your mixed arousal.

his red, weeping tip catches against your clit on every upward stroke, making you writhe beneath him and cry out borderline pornographic moans as the room fills with the obscene sound of wet skin rubbing together. your poor swollen, lips hugging the underside of his shaft so perfectly while he continues his assault between them.

jake runs his fingers through the damp strands of his hair, pushing it back as his free hand brings the camera up towards your fucked out face. the bright flash from the camera making you squint.

“smile, my pretty girl. . .” he cooes, before lowering the lens down to your joined areas molding and squelching together.

you are so slick that your panties have practically become a second skin, sticking to you in a way that allows for jake to see the outline of your puffy lips through the material as he slides his cock through the tight pocket he’s created, glans rubbing between your smooth folds so deliciously.

“jakey. . . ah- put your cock in my pussy please,” you plead.

“shh, be a good girl and take what i give you, angel,” he taps your lips with his middle and ring fingers, signaling for you take them into your mouth as he brings the camera back up to your face to capture the way your damp, doe eyes look up at him so innocently and drools slips from the corner of your lips as it’s stuffed full.

“fuck— you are beautiful, all fucking mine.” he turns the camera lens towards himself and flashes it a boyish grin, wiggling his eyebrows as he angles it to catch both your spread silhouette and his face perfectly.

he dips his head, lips latching onto the soft peaks of your breasts, a soft, wet popping sound emitting in the space as he lets each of them go.

you moan in response, unable to form any coherent words as you are overwhelmed by the sensations he provides. you instinctively tilt your hips upwards in attempt for the ridge of his head to catch against your creamy, ringed entrance on his downward stroke, succeeding when you feel his cockhead sink in slightly.

he quickly pulls away with a hiss, grabbing your face with his free hand while the camera stays focused on his cock teasing your pussy. “say it.”

he leans down to lick the hot tears streaming down your cheeks due to the pent up pleasure and frustration from his teasing. jake crashes his lips against yours in a salty kiss, his tongue dragging across your teeth hungrily. “mmph— all yours,” you moan back into his lips.

“yeah you are. shit baby! fuckfuck— ‘m gonna fuckin nut,” he moans, jaw slack as his grip on the camera tightens a fraction while he fucks his cock between your folds. it’s become such a mess that he slips out every now and then but his relentless press against your clit makes the coil in your belly unwind fairly quickly. “cum for me, yeah?”

his words send you over the edge as your walls clench around nothing and a gush of thin clear juices seep from your cunt, coating his dick.

you gasp when you feel the warm splatters of his sticky semen spurt across your folds, the milky cream slowly oozing down your slit and out of the hole from your ruined panties. his hips roll forward slowly, body twitching as his balls empty his load all over your labia, which are slightly spread open like a pretty little flower from the shape of his cock molding them that way for so long.

jake smacks his teeth with a low tsk. biting his lip until he tastes blood as he grabs ahold of his heavy, throbbing cock and smearing his hot seed along the mushroom tip. he nudges the head between your lips and drags downward until he finally dips inside of your aching hole, which swallows him up greedily.

the initial stretch of his thick cockhead entering your warm pussy makes your back arch of the bed and your toes curl in satisfaction. he moans at the warm envelope from your cunt. his eyebrows knit together as he slowly fucks himself as well as his seed deep within your gummy tunnel.

“ohmygod yes! baby— t-thank you!” you cry out, eyes rolling back.

“fuckin’ cockdrunk,” he laughs, stroking half of his length inside of you at cruel pace before bottoming out until his deflated balls rutt against your ass, “this tiny cunt is all f’ me, hm?” he thrusts slowly, dragging his length up and down your velvety walls.

jake only continues to praise you through strokes, being sure to spear against that spongey patch and dragging another messy orgasm from you. he follows, pulling his hips back slightly so only the tip remains as he pumps hot cum at the entrance of your pussy.

“haa-ah, ngh n-no more jakey,” you whine, hips still rolling to meet his thrusts despite yourself.

he chuckles, littering soft kisses to your cheeks, forehead, nose and then lips until he notices a white frothy ring around his shaft. finally, he withdrawals with a wince, his softening cock slipping out with a soft, wet pop.

jake spreads your pussy lips with his fingers and brings the camera closer to witness the fresh creampie he delivered as it slowly dribbles out from between your swollen lips and down your ass. he watches as your hole opens and closes forcing a glob of love milk out when he commands you to push more.

“mm, good girl. fuuuck baby— you’re stuffed so full like a pastry. thats so hot, can’t wait to beat my cock to this later. my personal little pornstar.”

You shrug, smug. “Of course. That’s why I’m the best recommendation you’ll ever get.”

The three of you sit there, laughing, tossing fries, teasing each other, and for a moment, the cafeteria chaos fades into the background. You don’t need to care about every game, every pass, or every win. You just need the energy, the fun, the chaos, and maybe, just maybe, the promise that somewhere out there, a player worth watching is waiting.

By the time your last class finally ends, the hallways are buzzing with the usual post-school chaos—students shouting over each other, backpacks bouncing, sneakers squeaking against the polished floors. You grab your bag and fall into step with Karina and Ningning, already gossiping about some random drama in English class.

“Ugh, can you believe Mr. Lee actually made us diagram that sentence today?” Karina groans, rolling her eyes so hard it’s almost audible. “I think half the class is still recovering.”

Ningning laughs, bumping your arm lightly. “I wasn’t paying attention anyway. I was too busy pretending to understand what he was saying. Honestly, I think he got lost somewhere around clause number three.”

You grin, letting yourself relax. “Pretty much my whole day. Survive the teacher, survive the hallways, survive lunch. Standard.”

Karina smirks. “Sounds like a thrilling life.”

“Exactly,” you say, nudging her lightly. “Thrills, drama, and occasional snack attacks.”

Ningning laughs, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous. But fine, we love it. So… what’s the plan for today? I don’t think just walking home counts as an event.”

Karina perks up, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Speaking of events… did you hear the big news?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Big news? What now?”

Ningning leans in like it’s the juiciest secret in the world. “our school’s playing against RiverHigh next week.”

You blink, slowing your pace. “Wait what? seriously?”

“Yep!” Karina says, bouncing on her heels. “Tickets are going on sale. People are already talking about it.” She winks. “And apparently, the other school… has some really cute players.”

Ningning screams. "I say we go watch. It’ll be fun!!!"

Karina notices your mixed expression and tilts her head. “Is something wrong?” she asks, walking beside you.

You hesitate, glancing at the sidewalk ahead. “It’s… the team our school’s playing against next week,” you say slowly.

Ningning looks curious. “Yeah? What about them?”

You bite your lip and glance between them, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s… my dad’s school.”

Karina freezes for a moment, then nods slowly. “Oh. I see.”

You shrug, forcing a casual smile. “It’s not a big deal. I just… if he notices I’m there, he’ll probably get a little upset. You know how he is about me and basketball .”

Ningning nods. “Makes sense. but like i dont get it why doesn't he want you attending games or just getting involved in general"

“I'm not really sure it just happened so suddenly ” you mutter.

Karina looks thoughtful. “So will you be going? because I know you want to watch the game"

You stop a bit. “I dont know I just just know its gonna be a good game so i wanna see it . That’s all. But with him there, it’s… complicated but I'll see.”

The three of you keep walking, joking, nudging, and laughing. The chatter flows easily—teachers, classes, and the little ridiculous moments of the day. But the basketball game hangs in the back of your mind now, not as an obligation, not as a statistic, but as something small and exciting to look forward to.

After all, a chance to hang out with friends, watch some good plays, maybe spot a few cute players from the other school? That’s the kind of Thursday afternoon energy you can get behind.

You step into the house, the familiar scent of dinner and the faint hum of the TV greeting you. The day’s noise slowly fades, replaced by the quiet comfort of home.

“Hey, you’re late,” your mom says from the kitchen, looking up from the stove. Her hair is tucked behind one ear, and she’s stirring something in a pot. “Long day?”

You drop your bag by the door with a soft thud and shrug. “Yeah… classes, homework, the usual chaos.”

She smiles, wiping her hands on a towel. “Well, at least you made it through. Want to grab a snack before dinner?”

You nod, following her into the kitchen, letting yourself relax for a moment. There’s something about being home—away from hallways, chatter, and friends—that lets your brain unwind. You pour yourself some juice and lean against the counter.

“Where’s Dad?” you ask casually, glancing around.

“He went out to the store,” she says, shrugging lightly. “Shouldn’t be too long.”

You nod, feeling a little relief. With him out of the way, you can finally relax… and maybe bring up something you’ve been thinking about.

“So… um our school's match game is next week,” you begin talking hesitantly

"Oh thats nice" your mom says while preparing dishes clearly not paying much attention.

you pause a bit then continue

“Our school is playing against my dad’s.”

Her eyebrows rise, but not in surprise—more like mild curiosity. “Ah. That’ll be interesting.”

You bite your lip. "Not sure if interesting is the right word but lets go with it I guess"

Your mother laughs " Will you be going?"

You fidget with your fingers . “Um… I mean, I want to go, but if he notices, he’s probably going to be… a little upset. He doesn’t like me attending those games much.”

Your mom laughs softly this time shaking her head. “Oh, honey. He’s just protective. It’s not like he’s going to stop the world from turning if you watch a game.”

You glance at her, uncertainty flickering across your face. “I know… but still. I don’t want to make it weird.”

She stops what she's doing and steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Listen. You love sports, you enjoy the games… why should you skip something because he might get a little grumpy?

Your eyes widen slightly as you look down " I dont know actually he just stopped bringing me to games so suddenly and you know I started loving the game because of him so seeing him deny like this makes me feel a bit upset"

Your mother hugs you " oh love , its fine you know how he gets I'll talk with him if it makes you feel better but for now, Its fine. Go just be carful , Have fun okay?"

You feel a small wave of relief wash over you. “Really?”

“Really,” she says firmly, smiling. “It’ll be fine. Besides, who knows? Maybe it’ll make him realize how happy you are enjoying something you care about.”

You grin, feeling lighter. “Thanks, Mom. That actually… helps a lot.”

After eating dinner you go up to your room and dial Karina, barely waiting for the first ring before speaking.

“Hey! Just wanted to let you know… I’m in. I’ll be at the game. Definitely. No excuses this time.”

Karina’s voice comes back, cheerful as ever. “Finally! We were starting to think you’d chicken out.”

You laugh. “Nope. I’m going. And yes, I’ll be there, front and center—well, maybe not literally front row. Let’s not tempt fate with Dad, okay?”

Ningning chimes in over the speaker. “Perfect. Can’t wait! It’s going to be fun, trust me.”

You smile, sliding your phone into your pocket. “Alright. We’ll see you there. Don’t get too rowdy without me.”

As you lay back against your bed a little thrill of excitement bubbles in your chest. The game isn’t just a game anymore—it’s a chance to watch, to enjoy, and maybe… to notice things you usually wouldn’t. And somehow, knowing your mom has your back makes the idea feel not quite so daunting.

The morning drifts by in a blur of classes and small chores, but by the time the afternoon rolls around, you’re buzzing with anticipation. You check your phone one last time before heading out, and sure enough, a message from Ningning lights up the screen: “Be there at 7:30! Don’t be late!”

You grin to yourself, tucking your phone into your bag. Perfect. Plenty of time to get ready. You pick out your outfit, something casual but comfortable—jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers—and tie your hair back in a practical ponytail. Every so often, you glance at the clock, excitement bubbling quietly in your chest.

By the time you step outside, the sun is dipping low, painting the sky in soft oranges and pinks. You make your way to the studio where you and your friends usually meet before games. As you round the corner, you spot them immediately—Karina and Ningning are already waiting, leaning against the wall and chatting quietly.

“Hey!” you call, waving as you approach.

Karina looks up and grins. “There she is! Right on time… ish.”

You laugh, sliding into step beside them. “I’m right on time. Don’t blame me for anyone else’s… scheduling choices.”

Ningning rolls her eyes playfully but smiles. “Sure, sure. Come on, let’s get inside before it gets too crowded.”

The three of you push open the door and step into the studio. The place is eerily quiet—completely empty, the seats vacant, the courts silent. You pause, tilting your head.

Karina frowns slightly. “Hmm… Ningning, are you sure this is the right time for the game? Like… the start time?”

Ningning straightens, nodding confidently. “Yes, I double-checked! 7:30, I’m positive.”

You reach for your phone, curiosity mixing with a flicker of unease. Opening the schedule, you scroll quickly, heart sinking slightly as you read.

“Uh…” you murmur, showing them the screen. “Guys… it actually says the game starts at 8:30.”

Karina blinks, looking between you and Ningning. “Wait… seriously?”

Ningning groans, dropping her hands to her hips. “Oh no… I could’ve sworn it was 7:30. I even told you both! Ugh, I hate this.”

You can’t help a small laugh, shaking your head. “Well… at least we’re early? I guess we get extra time to hang out and… enjoy the calm before the storm.”

Karina smirks, nudging Ningning. “Yeah, calm before the game… or before Ningning’s next scheduling disaster.”

Ningning swats her lightly but grins anyway. “Hey, don’t make me feel worse. Let’s just… wait it out. I’ll admit I messed up.”

Karina laughs at her " since you messed up snacks are on you lets go get them"

Ningning sighs in defeat getting her purse.

" I'm just gonna wait here you guys can go" you say

karina raises a brow " You sure? do you atleast want something?"

"Just get me anything I'm fine with anyhting really"

"If you say so text me if you change your mind" Karina says while dragging Ningning out.

Minutes pass by, and both Karina and Ningning have yet to return. The quiet of the empty studio starts to feel heavy, the kind of silence that makes your foot tap against the floor and your fingers drum impatiently on the seat.

You groan softly, pushing yourself up from the chair. “Can’t just sit here forever,” you mutter, stretching your arms.

Your eyes wander across the court, and there it is—a lone basketball resting near the corner. It’s practically begging you to do something, anything, to pass the time.

You pick it up, spinning it lightly on your finger for a second before bouncing it once on the floor. The sound of the ball against the polished wood is satisfying, breaking the monotony.

“Alright,” you murmur to yourself, smiling a little. “Let’s see if I’ve still got it.”

You start shooting, first from close range, then a little farther back, adjusting your stance, testing your accuracy. You dribble between shots, move to the three-point line, arch a shot—it’s liberating. The quiet studio becomes your little playground, every swish and bounce energizing you more.

And then… a voice.

A guy stands a few feet away, leaning slightly against the wall, arms crossed. He’s watching you with an expression that’s equal parts impressed and playful. “You’ve got style. I like how you move with the ball.”

You blink, caught off guard, and tilt your head. “Oh… thanks,” you say, a little breathless from moving and from the sudden attention. “I’m just… passing time.”

He smirks, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “Passing time, huh? Well, if you’re going to be out here, at least make it look good. And you’re definitely doing that.”

He says that while you were trying to take a shot which makes you laugh dropping from your position .

He smiles a bit seeing you laugh " what are you doing here so early by the way?"

You straighten up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you grab the ball. “My friends told me the game starts earlier than it actually does,” you say simply. “Turns out we’re just… really early.”

He lets out a small chuckle, nodding like that explains everything. “Yeah, that checks out. Place is way too quiet for a game.”

You bounce the ball once, then twice, eyes flicking briefly around the empty studio. “They went to grab something. I didn’t feel like sitting around.”

“Makes sense,” he says, watching you line up another shot. “Most people wouldn’t bother shooting alone.”

You shrug, shooting again. The ball hits the rim, spins, then drops in. “I don’t mind it. It’s quieter. Easier to focus.”

He hums softly, impressed but not saying it out loud this time. “You play?” he asks, more curious than teasing now.

“Not really,” you answer honestly. “Just… grew up around it.” You glance at him briefly, then back to the court.

He nods, like he understands more than he lets on. “Yeah. I can tell. You don’t shoot like someone who just picked up a ball for fun.”

" What about you? Do you play?" you ask curiously while smiling a bit.

He looks at you when you ask and god damn how can someone look this hot his light brown hair really suits him .

" A bit I guess not the best at it" he says while putting his hand in his pockets .

You pause for half a second, then roll the ball back toward him without thinking. It stops near his feet.

He looks down at it, then back up at you, amused. “what? want me play against me now court girl?”

you laugh because of the random nickname " Y/n that's my name."

He smirks slightly " cute name I'm Heeseung"

There’s a brief pause—not awkward, just quiet. He glances at the hoop, then back at you, bouncing the ball lightly against the floor.

“So,” he says, casual, “you wanna play, or are you just warming up all night?”

You scoff softly. “You’re the one who said you weren’t that good.”

He lets out a short laugh. “I said I wasn’t the best. Big difference.”

You roll the ball toward him again. “Alright then. One shot.”

He raises a brow. “Just one?”

“For now.”

He lines himself up again, this time from a slightly different angle. You watch closely—not expecting much, just curious. He takes the shot.

And lets just say not anyone makes a shot that good so your kinda amazed.

He passes the ball back to you, eyes lingering just a second longer than necessary. “Your turn, court girl—sorry, Y/N.”

You shoot him a look. “You’re not letting that go, are you?”

Can you blame me?” he says, easy grin in place. “You kinda own the court right now.”

More footsteps echo faintly in the hallway now. Voices. The place won’t stay empty much longer.

Heeseung glances toward the doors, then back at you. “Looks like the place won’t stay empty much longer.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Guess warm-ups are starting soon.”

He spins the ball once in his palm before handing it to you. “Shame. I was starting to think this was a private showing.”

You scoff, but a smile slips out anyway. “You wish.”

“Maybe,” he says, unbothered. “But I don’t usually walk in on someone hitting every spot on the floor like that.”

You roll your eyes. “You exaggerate.”

“Not really.” His gaze flicks from the ball back to you. “It’s… noticeable.”

There’s a pause—short, but deliberate. Then he clears his throat, tone shifting back to casual.

“I should go,” he says. “Before I get accused of ditching.”

you get a bit confused about what he means but you dont ask .

He hesitates, then adds, “But—uh—can I get your number?”

You blink. “my number? Why?”

He shrugs. “In case I ever need tips.” A beat. “Or in case you show up early again.”

You study him for a moment, then unlock your phone and hand it over. "Fine. But don’t call me court girl in the text.”

He chuckles under his breath as he types. " I'll just have to find a new nickname for you then”

" Or just call me by my name" you laugh slightly.

He hands your phone back. A new contact. Heeseung 🏀 . You laugh it it .

“ Nah think I'll pass on that" he smirks a bit then he hands you back your phone

"See you around, Pretty,” he says, already stepping away.

You watch him disappear into the noise, heart beating just a little faster than before—no big deal. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Your phone buzzes in yourhand. One message. Two. Three. Calls.

You frown, pulling it out. Karina… Ningning…

“Oh no,” you mutter under your breath. You glance toward the door, the echoing footsteps of Heeseung already fading into the hall, and groan.

“Guess I really lost track of time,” you mumble, swiping to call Karina back.

“Hey!” you breathe into the phone, trying to sound calm. “I—yeah, I’m on my way. Did it start already?”

Her laugh comes through immediately. “Finally! We were about to think you’d ghost us completely.”

“Not my style,” you reply quickly, jogging toward the exit. “Just… got caught up.”

By the time you reach the entrance, Karina and Ningning are waiting, arms crossed but grinning. “Took you long enough,” Karina teases.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, catching your breath, sliding your phone back into your pocket. “… you know how it is.”

Ningning snorts. “In a gym?”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the laugh. “Fine. I got… distracted.”

Karina raises an eyebrow, suspicious. “Distracted by what?”

You shrug, stepping inside with them. “Nothing. Just… some stuff.”

The three of you head further in, the noise of the gym growing with each step. The warm-up chaos of players and balls fills the space, and suddenly the quiet court from a few minutes ago feels like a distant memory.

And somehow, in the back of your mind, the memory of Heeseung and that smirk lingers just a little longer than you expected.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the gym, Heeseung is walking toward the team when he’s suddenly pulled aside by Coach—your dad.

“You’re late again!” your dad starts, voice low but sharp, eyes narrowing. “I told you to be here early for warm-ups. The game isn’t going to wait for you, Heeseung.”

Heeseung rubs the back of his neck, a small smile flickering as he raises his hands. “Sorry, Coach. Ran into some… trouble on the way over.”

“Trouble?” your dad mutters, clearly not buying it." just go warm up already and this better not happen again heeseng"

Heeseung nods, trying to look earnest. “Got it. Won’t happen again.”

He goes to change his clothes and warm up.

" HYUNG!" someone calls him and he dosent need to turn to know who that is .

"Yeah Jake?" he answers while warming up .

Jake slaps his neck while laughing " couch was this close to beating your ass why are you late I know you came here early"

“Nothing, just got caught up in something,” Heeseung says casually, though Jake isn’t buying it.

“Don’t bother lying to me,” Jake shoots back, smirking. “I saw you with that girl. And plus, I made up some lie so Couch doesn’t kill you. So spit it out.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Well… yeah, that’s what I was caught up in. I’ll tell you later. The game’s about to start—come on.”

The players start lining up, each one moving into position, bouncing balls, stretching, and talking quietly among themselves. You step a little closer, weaving through the crowd of early spectators, when your eyes land on him.

Heeseung.

He’s standing there with the rest of the team, casual but commanding in that effortless way only a confident player has. Ball in hand, sneakers squeaking lightly against the polished floor, posture relaxed yet sharp.

Your stomach flips for a second. You blink, not expecting him to be here, right in front of you. And yet… there he is.

A small, almost involuntary smile creeps onto your face. You try to look casual, pretending you’re just scanning the court, but your gaze keeps flicking back to him.

Heeseung glances around briefly, maybe noticing someone in the stands, but his attention quickly returns to his teammates. He doesn’t know you’re watching, doesn’t know who you are. Yet the effect is the same: the court feels charged, like there’s suddenly something more than just warm-ups happening.

You tuck your hair behind your ear, gripping your phone a little tighter, trying to remind yourself this is just a game.

But the corner of your lips betrays you—a small, quiet smile that says maybe, just maybe, you’re a little too aware of him already.

The coach blows the whistle, and the game is about to begin.

The whistle blows again , and the game starts. Your eyes immediately track him—the way he moves on the court, smooth and precise, every pass and shot executed like he’s been doing this forever.

You blink once. Then twice.

“Woah...” you mutter under your breath, unable to tear your gaze away.

Karina and Ningning glance at you, bouncing slightly on their seats, eating popcorn. “What?” Karina asks, raising an eyebrow.

You lean forward, whispering, a little panicked and mostly awed. “Our school… is lowkey cooked, guys.”

Ningning snorts. “Excuse me?”

“Look at him!” you hiss, gesturing subtly toward the court. “Every shot, every pass… He’s insane. And our team isn’t bad, but—come on. He makes it look like a practice drill.”

Karina bites her lip to keep from laughing. “Dang… you’re shook. He really that good?”

You nod furiously, still staring. “Shut up. I—okay, fine. He’s the reason we’re gonna get destroyed. I’m not even exaggerating. Our school is done for.”

Ningning rolls her eyes but can’t hide the smile. “Wow, you’ve got a type already?”

You shoot her a look, but it’s hard to be serious. “No! I mean—just… focus. Can you just watch for a second?”

The three of you lean in, your attention glued to the court, and for the first time, the game feels a lot less like just a warm-up and a lot more like… something you’re not ready to forget.

The final whistle blows, echoing sharply across the gym.

You lean back in your seat, breath catching from the pace of the game. The scoreboard reads 15–9. Not a complete blowout, but enough to show the skill gap—and honestly, you aren’t surprised at all who carried the game.

“Oh… wow,” you murmur, exhaling slowly. “Did you guys see that?”

Karina chuckles, elbowing Ningning lightly. “You’ve been muttering that the entire second half. We saw. Don’t act like you weren’t glued to him the whole time.”

Ningning snorts. “Yeah… I think you even jumped a little when he made that last shot.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands for a moment. “I—I mean, yeah, it was impressive! But wow… Heeseung is unreal. Every pass, every shot… our school is lowkey cooked.”

Karina's eyes widen " YOU KNOW HIS NAME???"

Ningning pauses then finally realizes

you pause too after she says that before you could even talk her hands are on your shoulders shaking you.

" Thats why you were late you met him right?????"

" um yeah" you say quietly " but its not a big deal we just talked and he asked for my number thats it"

Ningning gasps " he asked for your number that means he's interested in you girl"

" No shit Ning" you laugh

As you follow your friends toward the exit ignoring their questions , your eyes flick back to the court one more time. Heeseung is already gathering his things, calm and collected like nothing just happened. Yet you can’t stop replaying every shot, every pass.

Even from the stands, he left an impression you know you’re not going to forget anytime soon.

You step through the front door, the smell of dinner filling the house. Your mom looks up from the stove with a small smile.

“Well? How was the game?” she asks, sliding a plate toward you.

You grin, trying to keep your mood light. “It was great! Everyone played so well. I had a really fun time.”

Your mother smiles at your excitement " I'm glad now come help me with dinner"

You walk to her and start helping her put the food on the table and then you both sit down

" will dad be coming home late?" you ask while washing your hands

Before your mom can respond, the front door swings open and your dad walks in. His eyes immediately find you.

You glance at your mom, who gives you a small, sympathetic smile. You both sit down at the table and begin eating, trying to keep things calm.

But the quiet doesn’t last long. Mid-bite, he clears his throat, and his gaze locks onto you.

“So…” he starts, voice low but sharp. “You went to the game today, huh?”

You pause, fork halfway to your mouth. “Yeah… it was fun. Really fun.”

He leans back slightly, crossing his arms. “Fun, huh? And you didn’t think to mention it beforehand?”

" Dad I dont why you're so worked up about this , Its just a gam-".

“Just a game?” he interrupts, “Do you have any idea what time it was? Or that I didn’t even know you were going?”

You feel your stomach knot, but you push back. “Dad, I’m not a little kid! I can go to a basketball game without it being the end of the world! And if you wanna ban from something at least tell me the reason!"

His jaw tightens. “It’s not about being little. I just… I don’t want you running off to these things, thinking it’s fine while I’m stuck worrying!”

You stand up abruptly, setting your fork down with a clatter. “I wasn’t thinking about that! I just wanted to watch a game, Dad. I’m not doing anything dangerous I dont get why you're worried”

Your dad opens his mouth, clearly about to respond, but you hold up a hand. “No, I’m done. I’m going to my room.”

You march down the hallway, chest still tight, slamming your bedroom door behind you. The muffled sounds of your dad sighing and your mom calling after you fade into the background.

You lean back against your door, arms crossed, trying to calm down. Part of you still buzzes from the excitement of the game, but now it’s tangled with frustration.

He can’t control everything, you think, staring at the ceiling. I just wanted to enjoy one night without it turning into a lecture.

You flop onto your bed, still a little worked up, scrolling through your phone to distract yourself.

A notification pops up—a new text from an unknown number:

Heeseung 🏀 : hey pretty

You raise an eyebrow, typing quickly:

You: heeseung?

A second later, another message appears:

Heeseung 🏀: don’t tell me you already forgot about me, court girl

You blink, stomach doing a weird little flip

You: lmao no i just t didnt expect you to text

Almost immediately, the reply pops up:

Heeseung 🏀: yeah? why'd u think that pretty

you smile blushing a bit.

You: dunno maybe cuz its late?

Heeseung 🏀 : mb pretty just wanted to talk since we didnt continue our convo

You : dw about it I wasnt sleeping anyways 😭

Heeseung 🏀 : so you go to Brookfeild?

You : yep i do

Heeseung 🏀 : and here I thought you came to the game cuz u heard about me

You : i didnt even know ur name when we were alone bro😭😭

Heeseung 🏀 : humor me will u🥀? Heeseung 🏀 : and bro? really ? Heeseung 🏀 : really pretty? here I am trynna get a date w u and ur calling me bro

You: BYE 😭 that slipped, my bad

Heeseung 🏀: mhm. suspicious.

You: don’t act like you weren’t calling me court girl five minutes after meeting me

Heeseung 🏀: fair. but still—“bro” hurts a little

You: you’ll survive, I think

Heeseung 🏀: barely. Heeseung 🏀: so… since I’m clearly not your bro

Heeseung 🏀: how about I make up for calling u court girl Heeseung 🏀: coffee?

You stare at the screen longer than you mean to, heart doing that annoying thing again.

You: bold of you to assume I drink coffee

Heeseung 🏀: bold of you to assume I won’t find an alternative

You: wow… persistent

Heeseung 🏀: only when it’s worth it

You bite your lip, shaking your head with a small smile you pretend isn’t there.

You : okay then pick me up tmrw at 6 You : I'll be waiting

Heeseung 🏀 : see you tmrw pretty girl

You read his last message and can’t help it—your chest tightens and your heart does that stupid flutter again.

“Ughhh!” you groan, throwing your phone onto the bed. It bounces against the pillows, screen still glowing with his name.

Your voice rises, half-laughing, half-screaming: “What the fuck is wrong with me i just met the guy!?”

You flop onto your pillows, hands over your face, trying to calm down but failing miserably. Your room suddenly feels way too small, the walls almost closing in with excitement and embarrassment all at once.

He’s so infuriating… you think, hiding your face. And yet… why can’t I stop smiling?

The next day, you finish your last class and sling your bag over your shoulder. Finally done for the day.

Outside, Karina and Ningning fall into step beside you, chatting about their own schedules. You listen halfheartedly, your mind wandering elsewhere.

“Done for the day?” Karina asks, noticing your quiet mood.

“Yeah,” you say simply, shrugging. “All my classes are over.”

“Hey, Y/N… did Heeseung from yesterday text you?” Ningning asks, falling into step beside you as you walk.

You freeze for a split second . “Uh… yeah,” you admit, keeping your voice even.

Karina raises an eyebrow. “Oh? So he did text you. What did he say?”

“Yeah,” you say . “It’s nothing crazy, just… coffee or something. He asked yesterday, and I said yes.”

Ningning blinks at you, clearly caught off guard. “Wait… he asked you out yesterday? And you’re going today?”

You shrug, trying to act casual, though a small smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah… it’s nothing fancy, just coffee. I figured, why not?”

Karina’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow… okay. That’s… quick. But kind of exciting too, huh?”

You roll your eyes, pretending to be unimpressed. “Exciting… sure. Nervous too, maybe.”

Ningning nudges you lightly. “Nervous? Nah. You’re gonna be fine. Just… go, enjoy it, and see what happens. Don’t overthink.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah… thanks. I’ll try.”

Karina smirks. “Good. But just so you know, we expect a full report after.”

You groan, shaking your head. “You guys are impossible.”

The three of you continue walking, chatting about other things, but your mind keeps drifting back to Heeseung and the small thrill of seeing him again later.

Even though it’s just coffee, you can’t stop your heart from racing a little at the thought.

.

You step into your room, dropping your bag by the door. The house smells faintly of dinner, but you barely notice. Today has been… a lot, and now it’s finally time to get ready.

After a quick shower, you pull on something comfortable but put-together—something that says “I made an effort” without overthinking it. Brushing your hair quickly, you glance at your phone sitting on the nightstand.

A message pops up immediately, making your stomach flutter.

Heeseung 🏀: I’m here pretty

You bite your lip and type back quickly:

You: on my way :p

Your fingers hover over the screen for a moment before you tuck the phone into your bag. Heart still racing, you grab your things and head for the door.

The walk to the cafe is short, but every step feels like it takes a little longer than usual. Your mind keeps replaying yesterday’s game, the empty court, and that brief conversation with him.

You push open the door to the small cafe, the warm air and soft chatter immediately hitting you. The smell of coffee and baked goods makes your stomach flutter a little—nerves, excitement… probably both.

Then you spot him. Heeseung’s leaning casually near a table by the window, phone in hand. When his eyes meet yours, that same easy smirk from yesterday spreads across his face.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he says, tilting his head slightly, the tone familiar from the first time he called you that.

“Hi, Heeseung,” you smile, glancing around the café. “So… this is where you hang out when you’re not shooting hoops?”

Heeseung lets out a quiet laugh, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Yeah. When I need a break from the gym or the noise. It’s close, and they don’t rush you out.”

You nod, settling into the chair across from him. “I get that. Places like this feel… calm.”

“Exactly,” he says, eyes flicking back to you. “Didn’t really picture you as a ‘quiet café’ person, though.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? And what did you picture?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. You were pretty confident out there yesterday. Thought you’d be more… loud.”

You laugh softly. “I can be. Depends on the day.”

A barista passes by and Heeseung gestures toward the counter. “You want to order first?”

“Sure,” you say, standing up. “What do you usually get?”

“Just an iced americano,” he replies. “Simple.”

“Figures,” you tease lightly before turning toward the counter.

When you both sit back down, drinks in hand, the conversation settles into something easy. Not awkward. Not forced.

“So,” Heeseung starts, resting his elbow on the table, “you play? Or was yesterday just for fun?”

You shake your head. “Just for fun. I don’t really play on a team or anything. I like watching more.”

He hums. “That explains your shots. You read the court well.”

You blink. “You noticed that?”

“Yeah,” he says simply. “You don’t rush. You look first. ”

You smile at that because when you were young you used to see your dad screaming at his players to pay attention, you take a sip of your drink. “that makes sense i guess .”

“How?”

“I’m studying journalism,” you say. “Sports journalism, actually.”

Heeseung’s eyes light up a little. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Still early, but… that’s the plan.”

“That’s cool,” he says, genuinely. “Not a lot of people go for that.”

You shrug. “I’ve always liked sports. The stories behind them, not just the games. Why people play, what it means to them.”

Heeseung leans back slightly, considering your words. “That’s kind of funny.”

“Why?”

“Most people just ask how many points I score,” he says. “Not… why I play.”

You tilt your head. “So why do you?”

Heeseung exhales through his nose, thinking. “Started when I was a kid. Didn’t even love it at first. It was just… something to do.”

“And now?”

“Now?” He pauses, then shrugs. “It’s the one thing that feels consistent. No matter what’s going on, the court stays the same.”

You nod slowly. “That makes sense.”

There’s a brief silence, but it’s comfortable. Not the kind that needs to be filled.

Heeseung glances at you smirking a bit. “So that means you'll write about me pretty girl?.”

You scoff softly. “Write about you? Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Heeseung chuckles, shrugging. “Worth a shot.”

“If I ever did,” you add, “it’d be because you play well. Not because you asked.”

“Fair,” he says, nodding. “I’ll take that.”

You glance at him. “And don’t start acting different over it.”

“Relax,” he replies. “I’m the same either way.”

You hum, unconvinced. “Debatable.”

Heeseung grins. “Okay, maybe a little annoying.”

“At least you’re self-aware,” you say.

“Gotta be,” he replies. “Our coach is on our ass about reading the court—can’t afford to be clueless.”

You laugh lightly. “That explains a lot.”

He looks at you again, casual but amused. “So you always analyze people like this, or am I special?”

You tilt your head slightly, meeting his gaze without breaking eye contact. “Maybe I'm still not sure"

For a split second, he pauses.

Not long—just enough to notice.

His grin falters before it comes back, slower this time, like he’s recalibrating. “Is that so?”

You shrug, calm, unbothered. “Guess you’ll never really know.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re dangerous.”

“Am I?” you ask lightly, already reaching for your drink.

Heeseung leans back in his chair, eyes still on you, expression unreadable for a moment. “Yeah,” he says after a beat. “A little.”

The teasing tone is still there, but something’s shifted—subtle. Like he didn’t expect you to flip it back on him that easily.

For the first time since you sat down, it really hits you—this isn’t just a random coffee. It’s a conversation that feels… real. Easy. Like it could go on longer than either of you expected.

And somehow, that makes your chest feel warm.

You step out of the café, the evening air cool against your skin. The city smells faintly of rain and coffee, mixed with that sharp tang of streetlights. Heeseung falls into step beside you without saying anything. Neither of you seem in a hurry, just moving at the same pace, letting the quiet between you stretch comfortably.

You talk in fragments at first—about classes, minor annoyances, a new café down the street—nothing serious, nothing heavy. His laughter is quiet but genuine, and it makes the small spaces between words feel lighter. You notice little things about him: the way he tilts his head when he listens, how his shoulders relax when he’s comfortable, the faint warmth in his hands when they brush against yours.

Your hands brush once, almost accidentally. You both pause slightly, neither pulling away. It feels natural, easy, like it’s been meant to happen all along. A few steps later, your fingers find his fully, curling around his with no hesitation. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. Heeseung’s smirk is subtle, a twitch of amusement, but his eyes linger on your hand, not minding at all.

The city sounds fade into the background—the hum of cars, distant chatter, the occasional squeak of a bike chain. It’s just the two of you, moving side by side, the quiet intimacy of a shared walk settling between words.

Eventually, you reach the corner where your paths will diverge. You stop, your heart ticking a little faster than usual. On a small impulse, you lean in and press a soft, quick kiss to his cheek. The warmth of your lips lingers for a moment, and heeseung freezes just slightly, caught off guard—but not in a bad way.

“See you hee,” you murmur, stepping back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Heeseung watches you walk away, the smirk lingering on his lips, and feels a warmth creeping up behind his ears. He lifts a hand to his cheek instinctively, a faint tension there that wasn’t before.

For a long moment, he stands in the middle of the sidewalk, letting the quiet street stretch between you. And even though you’re gone, he can’t quite shake the pull of your presence—or the little spark you left behind.

Weeks had passed since that first coffee date, and you and Heeseung had fallen into a comfortable rhythm of texting, calling, and occasional casual meet-ups. Not romantic in any over-the-top, dramatic way, just… easy. The teasing messages still came, the playful back-and-forth that made you grin like an idiot at your phone sometimes.

Of course, your friends had noticed.

“You guys… have you even… you know?” Karina asked one afternoon as you three lounged in the living room, snacks scattered around.

“Have we what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, already anticipating where this was going.

“Come on, Y/N,” Ningning said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Have you guys… fucked yet? Or anything?”

You laughed, nearly choking on your soda. “No! We haven’t even kissed!”

Both of them froze, staring at you like you’d just announced you had been abducted by aliens.

“You’re kidding,” Karina said. “You’ve been giggling and blushing about him nonstop, and you haven’t kissed?!”

Ningning leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, “Blushing, giggling… over a guy… and nothing? Are you even human?”

You threw your head back, laughing. “It’s whatever, okay? We’re not in some rush. Chill.”

But they weren’t going to let it go that easily. For the rest of the afternoon, they teased you mercilessly, demanding stories, asking if he said anything cute in texts, and generally making you laugh so hard your cheeks hurt.

Earlier this week, Heeseung had sent you a text that made your heart skip:

“Game night. think you could come for me pretty?”

You blinked at your phone, rereading it three times. Then you called Karina and Ningning immediately. “I’m going,” you announced. “He’s invited me to his game.”

The girls squealed on the other end of the line, practically vibrating with excitement.

Game day arrived, and you were buzzing with anticipation. You had chosen your outfit carefully—comfy, casual, and, of course, the team jersey Heeseung had jokingly sent you after your first coffee meet-up. You and your friends arrived at the gym just as the teams were warming up. The squeak of sneakers against polished wood, the swish of nets, and the distant clang of balls bouncing off rims filled the space, making your chest thrum with excitement.

Your friends immediately grabbed spots near the front row, and you settled in between them, eyes scanning the court. The scoreboard showed zeros across the board, and the referee blew the whistle to signal the start.

The game started fast. The first quarter was a blur of passes, dribbles, and sharp cuts. You found yourself leaning forward, pointing out moves to your friends. “Look at that! He’s reading the defense like it’s nothing.”

Karina laughed. “Stop it, you’re already biased!”

Ningning nudged you. “Biased? You’ve been following him for, like, a week. And you’re already critiquing like a pro.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop watching. Heeseung had the ball now, weaving between defenders effortlessly, eyes scanning, body moving with such precision it almost seemed choreographed. He feinted left, spun right, and passed just in time to a teammate at the three-point line. The ball arced perfectly and swished through the net.

“Wow…” you breathed.

The next play, the other team intercepted the ball and launched a fast break. You clutched your friends’ hands instinctively as the player zipped past half-court, dunking cleanly. Your friends whooped, and you laughed along, adrenaline spiking.

But then the game tightened. By the third quarter, the scoreboard was nearly even. Fifteen to fifteen. Every possession counted, and every pass felt like it could tip the balance. Heeseung had the ball again, and your eyes followed him like a hawk.

He dodged one defender, then another, and spun to create space. Time seemed to slow for just a second as he leapt for a shot near the basket. The gym held its collective breath. Swish. The ball sank through the net cleanly, and the crowd erupted. You clapped instinctively, cheeks warming.

“Damn,” Karina whispered, nudging you. “Did you see that?”

“He’s… incredible,” you murmured, unable to tear your eyes from him.

By the fourth quarter, the tension was palpable. The scoreboard read 20–20. Every pass, every dribble, every fake shot made the gym murmur in anticipation. Heeseung had the ball again, weaving through the defense, his eyes darting to teammates, gauging every possibility.

He made a quick fake, darted right, and went up for a layup. The defender jumped to block him, but Heeseung’s timing was perfect. The ball kissed the backboard and dropped in. The buzzer sounded just moments later, the final score at 22–20.

He turned in your direction, eyes locking with yours across the gym. Without a word, he blew a kiss, just enough for you to catch it. Your face burned.

Heeseung froze mid-smile he was so sure he just saw heaven you looked so... good in his jersey. His grin faltered just slightly. Fuck… he thought, but no one would ever know.

After the game, you and your friends made your way onto the court, still buzzing from the excitement. Heeseung jogged over, grin still plastered on his face.

“You made it! Front row, and cheering!” he said.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you said, grinning back.

Heeseung gestured toward his teammates. “This is Jake, Sunghoon, Jay, and Ni-ki,” he introduced, one by one.

“Hi!” you said then Karina and Ningning followed along , waving. The guys all smiled and nodded, friendly and easygoing.

Just then, a familiar voice called out. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

" oh dad hi.. I was invited" you say a bit nervous because you're pretty sure Heeseung doesn't know this and you're praying -to whatever god that'll listen to you- that your father doesn't cause a scene.

Your father let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck, but didn’t say anything else. You could practically feel him thinking, just let this go, just let this be fine…

Heeseung blinked, clearly confused, and stepped slightly closer his eyes went wide for a second, then narrowed slightly as he studied you. “Hold on… our coach… is your dad?”

You nodded, trying to sound casual. “Yeah… didn’t think it was that important to mention tho.”

Heeseung’s mouth opened slightly, then closed, clearly debating what to say. Finally, he muttered, “Well… that explains a few things.”

The chatter between you and the others had died down, but Heeseung was so quiet making you confused but then you felt him tug your hand and then whispering "come with me for a bit pretty".

you look at him a bit confused but follow him , he opens a door which soon you realize is his teams locker room. you come in and he closes the door then suddenly you feel him pin you to the door his gaze lingered on you, sharp and unwavering, and you felt that familiar flutter in your stomach.

“You’ve been… driving me crazy all day,” he said, voice low, just above a whisper, “just looking like that.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to sound teasing but failing to hide the heat in your chest. “Is that supposed to be a warning or a compliment?”

Heeseung smirked, taking a step closer. “Maybe a little of both,” he said, letting his hand brush yours, lingering just long enough to send a jolt through you.

You laughed softly, feeling your pulse race. “I think you’re overestimating yourself, Hee.”

God he never knew nicknames could kill .

“Am I?” he countered, tilting his head, eyes darkening just slightly. Then, without another word, he stepped a bit closer, brushing against you in a way that made your breath hitch. “Come here,” he murmured nuzzling his head in your neck breathing your scent then he raised his head.

“I… I like you, okay?” he whispered, his forehead nearly brushing yours. “And I don’t want you thinking I’m hanging out with you just to touch you. I genuinely like you.”

Your heart stuttered, and you let yourself smile. “I like you too,” you admitted, your voice soft.

His grin widened, and without another word, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow at first, exploratory. But the tension that had been building between you both for weeks made it impossible to stay casual. You felt yourself leaning into him, hands instinctively finding his shoulders, fingers threading into the back of his shirt while his hands slowly lift your shirt until he reaches your tits kneading them slowly.

'Heeseung..." you moan his name against his lips and that alone makes him go feral because you swear you feel something pressing against your thigh .

His lips break from yours just enough to let out a low, rough growl, and his hands start roaming lower. One of them slides to the hem of your skirt, slowly lifting it inch by inch. You can feel his gaze burning over you as he teases your thighs, fingertips brushing against your skin in ways that make you squirm.

“God… you feel so good already,” he murmurs against your ear, his breath hot and rough.

His hand drifts further, sliding teasingly under your panties, circling, grazing, but not fully plunging yet—just enough to make your hips arch instinctively against him. Every slow, deliberate touch makes you whine, and he smirks against your neck, hearing it.

" Well you're wet is that all for me pretty?" he says clearly enjoying your flushed face.

"f-fuck yes hee all for you".

Hearing you call him just does it from him he lifts his fingers to your face and you instantly open your mouth sucking them .

" yeah make them wetter for me pretty girl" He says while staring intensely at you .

He presses you against the door a bit harder , one hand tangled in your hair, the other brushing over your mouth. Slowly he pulls them out , deliberately, he slides your panties to the side, exposing you to him completely.

His fingers trail along your folds, teasing, dragging over your wetness before he finally slides one finger inside you, slow, testing, curling, making you gasp. Your back arches instinctively, hips pressing into him, and he smirks into your lips.

“Fuck… all mine” he murmurs, low and rough.

Before you can catch your breath, he adds a second finger, then a third, filling you up, stretching you deliciously. He pumps them slowly at first, curling, pressing, teasing every sensitive spot inside you, and you’re already moaning his name, trembling.

Then he picks up the pace, fingers moving faster and harder, curling and dragging inside you, thumb circling your clit relentlessly. Your moans get louder, wetter, messy—he grins at how quickly you’re losing control.

“Fuck… look at you, losing your mind,” he growls, pressing his forehead to yours as he kisses you roughly. “So tight… so perfect…”

You can’t even form words anymore—just gasps, moans, and shaky breaths. Your body trembles uncontrollably as the overstimulation hits, fingers digging into his shoulders. You’re so close, and it slips out almost like a mantra, repeating over and over

“I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum…”

His grin widens, hearing you lose it like that, voice shaky and desperate. He buries his face into your neck, biting and sucking lightly, while his fingers curl inside you faster, hitting every spot that makes your body go wild.

“That’s it… say it again, baby. lower your voice pretty don't want your father hearing his daughter how fucked you are for me,” he growls, thumb grinding mercilessly over your clit.

Your hips jerk, legs quivering, moans loud and ragged as your body teeters on the edge. words leaves your lips again and again—I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum—and he only moves faster, relentless, watching you unravel under him, completely lost, overstimulated, dripping and screaming for more.

But then he stops He pulls out just as your body starts trembling toward release, and his low growl rumbles against you

"Hee!! why would u ah fuck"

“I can’t take it anymore… I need to feel you.”

he grabs you, sliding his hands under your thighs, and lifts you so your legs wrap tightly around his waist. You’re pressed flush to him, chest to chest, and the heat between you is unbearable.

With a deliberate, rough thrust, he plunges inside you, hips slamming against yours, hands gripping your waist like he can’t let go. The sensation is immediate, full, and hard — every stroke deep and merciless, making your nails dig into his shoulders as you cry out.

“That’s it… take it all, baby,” he growls, voice husky and ragged. “So wet… so fucking perfect.”

He doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. His hips snap into yours faster, harder, each one pushing you closer to losing your mind completely. You’re moaning, gasping, overstimulated, completely wrapped around him, and he smirks against your neck, dragging teeth lightly along your skin, marking you as he drives you wild.

“Shit… you’re mine. Mine to ruin,” he murmurs, thrusting deeper, holding you tight as your body starts trembling uncontrollably again. “Look at you… losing it for me…”

Every move, every brutal, perfect thrust pushes you higher and higher. You’re dripping, shaking, moaning his name like a mantra, legs tightening around his waist instinctively, body writhing, completely helpless under him. He doesn’t slow, doesn’t hesitate — just keeps fucking you hard, precise, relentless, until your world narrows down to him.

With one last, brutal thrust, the two of you shatter together, moans blending, bodies trembling, legs wrapped tight around him as your orgasms crash in waves. You’re dripping, shaking, completely undone, and he holds you close, letting you ride out every shiver.

When the overstimulation finally slows, he carefully sets you down, still pressing his chest to yours. One hand drags gently through your hair, the other wipes the mess from your thighs and stomach, slow, deliberate, intimate.

“There… all mine,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face, thumb stroking your cheek.

He leans down, kissing you soft and lingering, a sharp contrast to the chaos before. His lips are warm, gentle, tasting like you, full of satisfaction and need, holding you tight as your heart slows. You can feel his pulse against yours, his hands tracing comforting lines over your body as he whispers low and husky:

“You’re perfect… every inch of you. Always mine.”

You melt into him, still trembling, exhausted and wired all at once, the room silent except for your shared breaths and the soft, lingering kiss.

He laughs at you while caressing the top of your head" was I rough on you?"

" you were perfect" you say panting leaning against his chest.

You both slipped your clothes back into place, adjusting hair and jackets, trying to act like nothing had happened—but the lingering heat between you made it impossible to look completely normal.

.

Weeks passed, and the two of you had settled into an easy rhythm. Texts, calls, and walks became a normal part of your days, the teasing smiles and lingering touches never losing their spark. Heeseung’s confidence on the court made you laugh, roll your eyes, and cheer all at the same time—it was impossible not to get caught up in it.

One evening, you and Heeseung were taking a walk down a quiet street, the glow of the streetlights reflecting off the pavement. You nudged him lightly, a small grin tugging at your lips.

“You know,” you said, glancing up at him, “I always said I wanted someone to be so good so I can become a fan you know I want to write about talented players ” You paused, laughing softly. “just didnt expect it to be the random guy I met when I was bored”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh? so now you're like my number one fan or something?

You laughed, shaking your head. “Now… well, I guess yeah I have someone to cheer for amd someone to write about . My ace and front-row player. And that someone happens to be you.”

Heeseung’s grin widened, a spark lighting up his eyes. “My number one fan, huh? That’s… pretty flattering,” he said, leaning slightly closer, his hand brushing yours. “I might have to make sure you stay dedicated to your title.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you teased, looping your arm through his. “I’ve got a front-row seat, and I plan on cheering you on every game. Every point, every play—you won’t escape me.”

Heeseung laughed, a warm, low sound that made your chest tighten. “God… you drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured, leaning down to press a quick, teasing kiss to your temple. “And here I was thinking the fans were supposed to be calm.”

“You said it yourself,” you shot back with a grin. “I’m your number one fan. I’m allowed to be excited.”

Heeseung shook his head, smirking, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “Fine. But just so you know, my number one fan gets the best seat in the house… and the best view.”

You laughed, shaking your head again, but your heart thumped at the heat behind his words. “Good to know,” you said softly, letting your fingers intertwine with his as you continued walking.

The streetlights flickered above, your laughter mingling with his, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world had narrowed down to just the two of ynd your front-row, number-one-fan duty.

“yeah. like she was disappointed in me. and then she lays down facing the wall.” he demonstrates, twisting his body away from you in mock betrayal.

“and suddenly i feel guilty. like i betrayed her. so i call her name and she ignores me.”

“queen behavior,” you mumble.

“right? so i tap her and she looks at me over her shoulder like this.” he explains as he gives you the most exaggerated sad puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

your heart actually hurts.

“and then i give her chicken,” he finishes triumphantly. “she trained me. i didn’t train her.”

you reach forward and squish his cheeks, “you’re so gone for her.”

“she’s my daughter,” he says, completely serious.

you let him keep going. he spends another fifteen minutes telling you about how she refuses to sit on cold floors and how she recognizes his suitcase and how she pretends not to hear commands when she’s “emotionally overwhelmed.”

you don’t interrupt once.

⋆˚｡ - two

the second time is at the kitchen counter.

it’s late. he’s leaning over his phone, scrolling through videos, showing you pictures of lakes.

“look at this one,” he says, sliding closer until your shoulders touch. “imagine fishing here.”

“it’s just water.”

“no it’s not just water. look at the trees. that’s like prime spot.”

“prime for what.”

“for peace,” he says dramatically. “you wake up early. like five am.”

“five am is illegal.”

“no no. you wake up, it’s misty. you’ve got coffee. you cast the line.” he makes the motion, nearly elbowing a bowl off the counter.

“and then you just wait.”

“that sounds like doing nothing.”

“that’s the point,” he says, turning to you like you’ve deeply offended the concept of fishing. “you just exist. and then when you feel the tug-” his hands grab your wrist to demonstrate.

“-your heart starts racing. and then you reel it in. and even if it’s small it feels like you accomplished something.”

you tilt your head. “so you want to wake up at five am to stare at water and fight fish.”

“yes.”

“romantic.”

“it is romantic,” he argues. “you’d look cute in one of those bucket hats.”

“oh so this is about fashion.”

“no,” he says quickly, cheeks pink. “i mean. maybe. but also imagine us just sitting there. no schedule. no noise.” his voice softens. “just us.”

and that’s when you realize he isn’t just yapping.

he’s dreaming.

so you let him.

he spends another ten minutes explaining bait types and how he once tried fishing and mostly just tangled the line but “that’s not the point.”

you nod through all of it.

⋆˚｡ - three

the third time is in the living room floor, pieces of plastic scattered everywhere.

he’s holding up his phone again. “look at this lego set,” he says, gasping like he’s discovered treasure.

“how many do you have already.”

“not enough.”

“jake.”

“listen. this one is a vintage car. and the detailing? insane. and i saw this architecture series too.” he leans forward, practically vibrating. “building legos is therapy. you just follow instructions. everything makes sense.”

“you like instructions.”

“yes. they don’t argue back.”

you shove his shoulder, fighting the urge to laugh.

he grins.

“and when you finish, you can just look at it and think. i did that.” he pauses, eyes bright. “also i want a shelf. like a proper display. with lighting.”

“of course you do.”

“imagine coming over and just seeing a wall of legos.”

“i do come over.”

“okay but imagine it more.” he laughs at himself, running a hand through his hair.

“i just think it’s cool. tiny pieces becoming something big.”

you watch him talk, watch the way his eyebrows lift and his hands move and how he forgets to breathe when he’s excited.

you let him explain the difference between sets for nearly half an hour.

you don’t tease him.

you don’t interrupt.

you just watch.

⋆˚｡ - four

the fourth time is after practice. he’s flopped onto the couch, exhausted but somehow still talking.

“so jungwon hyung was trying to be serious,” he starts, already smiling.

“that never ends well.”

“no listen. he was giving this speech about teamwork. and then sunghoon just stares at him and goes ‘are you done’.”

you snort.

“and then jay starts clapping. slow. sarcastic.”

“oh my god.”

“and then ni-ki falls off the chair laughing. like actually falls.” he’s half sitting now, reenacting each member’s reaction with concerning accuracy.

“and heeseung just sighs like a disappointed dad.”

“that sounds about right.”

“we’re chaotic,” he admits fondly. “but i like it. even when we fight. it’s loud but it’s home.”

there’s something soft in his voice again.

you reach for his hand this time.

he intertwines your fingers automatically, still talking about how they ended up ordering food at midnight and arguing over who finished the last drink.

you let him ramble.

because every time he talks about the people he loves, his voice changes.

⋆˚｡ - five

and then there’s the fifth time.

you’re both lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

he turns his head suddenly.

“did you know that time actually moves slower if you’re moving fast.”

you blink. “what.”

“like. if you’re on a spaceship going near the speed of light. time passes slower for you than for someone standing still.”

you stare at him.

“are you okay.”

“no listen,” he says, scooting closer. “it’s called time dilation. it’s real. so technically if i left earth and came back, you’d be older than me.”

“so your plan is to abandon me for science.”

“it’s not abandonment. it’s physics.”

he starts explaining spacetime like he personally invented it, hands tracing invisible diagrams in the air.

“gravity bends time too. like near a black hole. time slows down.”

“you’re such a nerd.”

“but isn’t that crazy?” he whispers. “like time isn’t fixed. it changes.”

he’s so animated. so earnest.

you can’t stand it anymore.

“jake,” you say softly.

“yeah but imagine-”

you lean up and press your lips to his.

he freezes. like completely.

his words cut off mid sentence.

for a second he doesn’t even move.

then he melts.

it’s slow. warm. his hand comes up to your jaw like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. and when you pull back, his eyes are wide.

“i-”

you kiss him again. shorter this time.

he makes the smallest confused noise.

“was that because i was talking too much?” he asks carefully.

you smile, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “no.”

“then why?”

“because you’re the cutest when you talk about something you love.”

he goes quiet.

actually quiet.

you can see the way his brain short circuits.

“you think i’m cute..?” he says, dazed.

“very.”

“even when i’m explaining time bending.”

“especially then.”

his ears turn red. “oh.”

you nudge his shoulder. “keep going. you were saying something about black holes.”

he stares at you like you’ve just handed him the universe. “really?”

“really.”

and just like that, he lights back up.

“okay so basically-”

he dives right back in, words tumbling over each other, hands moving again, eyes shining.

this time he talks even closer to you.and every now and then he pauses. like he’s wondering if you’ll kiss him again.

you let him wonder.

and you let him talk.

for as long as he wants.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

he’s got his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his oversized denim jacket, dark hair swept back from his forehead, and there’s a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth that you know all too well. it’s the same grin he wore before convincing you to sneak into the cinema last month, and before that, when he talked you into doing karaoke even though you can’t carry a tune.

jake is a little taller than you. well, not by much — maybe two or three centimetres — but it’s just enough that when he looks at you from this angle, his head tilted slightly down, his brown eyes catch the warm light from the restaurant and turn almost amber.

“we absolutely do not have this,” you say, because one of you has to be the voice of reason. “we are the two worst liars on the planet. you laughed during that presentation about sustainable agriculture.”

“that was because the word 'compost' sounds funny,” he protests. “and this isn’t lying. this is… performance art. method acting.”

“method acting that requires us to—”

“kiss, yeah,” he says it like you’re discussing the weather, like it’s no big deal.

but jake’s ears are pink, though. you notice because you’ve known him for years and you’ve catalogued every single one of his tells. the ears give him away every time.

“it’s just a kiss, bro. people do it all the time. it’s, like, a normal human activity.”

“people in love,” you clarify.

“people in love, people in france, people saying goodbye at airports—it’s a whole spectrum,” jake waves a hand vaguely. “we’re just borrowing one tiny slice of that spectrum. for economic purposes.”

you want to point out that the discount is not even that much, but that’s not really the point anymore.

the point is that this is stupid. the point is that it’s also kind of funny. the point is that jake is looking at you with that particular expression — half challenge, half plea — and you’ve never been able to say no to him.

“fine,” you sigh. “but if we get arrested, i’m telling them you planned the whole thing.”

“deal.”

the bell above the door chimes as you push it open.

the restaurant smells like hot oil and salt and something artificially sweet, and the valentine’s decorations are even more aggressive up close; pink streamers hang from the ceiling, a cardboard cutout of a smiling couple shares a giant plastic fry.

there’s also a sign propped up on the counter;

♡ couple’s special ♡ 50% off when you prove your love! just ask our staff! ♡

“okay,” jake mutters under his breath. “okay, we’re doing this. we’re normal. we’re a normal couple. what do normal couples do?”

“they don’t usually plan it out loud,” you whisper back.

“right. right. okay. i’m just gonna—” he reaches over and slides his hand into yours.

jake’s palm is warm, way warmer than you expected, or maybe you just weren’t prepared for the actual weight of it, the way his fingers naturally slot between yours like they’ve done this a hundred times before. his thumb rests against your knuckle, and you can feel the faint callus from where he plays guitar.

you both stand there for a second, frozen, staring down at your joined hands.

“this is fine,” jake says, his voice is slightly higher than usual. “this is normal couple behavior.”

“yeah,” you agree. “very couple. very normal.”

but you’re still not moving.

a family with a toddler pushes past you toward the booth section, and you both immediately jerk apart like you’ve been caught doing something illegal.

“okay,” jake breathes. “okay. let’s just—let’s just order.”

the girl at the counter has her hair tied up in a very pretty little heart-shaped scrunchie and a nametag that reads mika. she’s maybe nineteen, and she’s already smiling at you both with the particular brightness of someone who’s worked a valentine’s day shift before and is determined to make it bearable.

“hi there! what can i get for you two today?”

jake steps up to the counter, and you can easly see him physically shift into performance mode; his shoulders square up, and his aussie accent gets slightly more pronounced — it always does when he’s nervous or excited, thickening around the edges like honey.

“yeah, hey, we’ll have the double cheeseburger meal, large fries, and uh—” jake glances at you. “strawberry milkshake?”

“strawberry milkshake,” you confirm.

“strawberry milkshake,” he repeats to mika. “and also the deluxe chicken burger meal, large fries, and an ice tea.”

mika taps at the screen.

“okay, that’ll be—oh, wait!” her face lights up. “are you guys celebrating valentine’s day? because we have our couple’s discount going on right now.”

jake’s grip on the counter tightens slightly.

“y-yeah,” jake says very weirdly. “we are. celebrating. together. as a couple.”

the words tumble out of him all at once, and mika blinks. her gaze slowly flicks between the two of you — jake’s flushed cheeks, and your very intense study of the menu board just behind her.

“that’s so sweet!” she says, and she genuinely sounds like she means it. “i just need to see a quick kiss, and then i’ll apply the discount.”

“right,” jake says. “a kiss. quick one. got it.”

he turns to face you.

for a moment, neither of you make a move. the restaurant noise fades into a dull hum — the fryer sizzling, a baby crying somewhere, the low thrum of a trending pop song about love and longing.

jake is looking at you with something unreadable in his expression, and you realize you’re both still standing about two feet apart, which is not very couple-like at all.

“okay,” he says quietly. “ready?”

you nod. your mouth is suddenly very dry.

jake steps closer.

the space between you collapses; you can smell jake’s cologne — something clean and woody, the same one he’s worn since second year, the one you once told him smelled nice and he pretended not to care but definitely started wearing more often. you can also see the faint freckle under his left eye, the tiny scar on his chin from when he tripped over his own feet freshman orientation.

jake’s breath hitches; just slightly, and then, suddenly, his lips are on yours.

it’s very quick — barely a second. it’s simply a soft press of warm, dry skin against skin, chapped from the february wind. jake’s nose bumps yours awkwardly, and his hand finds your elbow, steadying himself, and you make a small sound against his mouth that might be surprise or might be something else entirely.

jake pulls back.

mika is watching with her chin propped on her hand, clearly charmed. “aww. okay guys, discount applied! your total is—”

“wait,” jake says.

you both look at him.

jake’s ears are fully red now, adorably so, the colour spreading down his neck. he’s not looking at mika, he’s looking directly at you, and there’s something new in his eyes — something searching.

“that was really, really fast,” jake says. “i think we should—i mean, she might not have seen it properly. like… it was really fast.”

“i saw it,” mika says. “it was cute. you’re good.”

“but maybe we should do it again,” jake continues, like she hasn’t spoken at all. “just to be safe. you know—for the discount.”

oh, you know exactly what he’s doing. you know because you’re thinking the exact same thing, and you don’t have a good explanation for it except that his mouth was softer than you expected, and it only lasted a second, and you want to know what it feels like when it’s not rushed and clumsy and nervous.

“yeah,” you hear yourself say. “just to be safe.”

mika shrugs. “i mean, i don’t really need—”

but you’re already stepping forward.

this time, you’re the one who closes the distance, and jake’s eyes widen slightly, and then they just flutter shut, and then your lips are meeting again and it’s nothing like the first kiss at all.

this kiss is slower, more conscious.

you slowly tilt your head to avoid the nose-bumping situation, and somehow that brings you even closer, your mouths fitting together properly. jake’s hand slides from your elbow to your waist, his fingers curling into the fabric of your hoodie. yours finds its way to his shoulder, then up, your thumb brushing the side of his neck where his pulse is rabbiting away.

jake’s lips part slightly, just barely, and just enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath, the soft wet heat of his mouth. you press closer without thinking, and he makes a sound — a tiny, barely audible sound, swallowed by the space between you.

this isn’t a quick kiss; damn it, this isn’t a performance.

this is jake’s hand sliding around to the small of your back, pulling you in until your chests are touching. this is your fingers threading into the hair at the nape of his neck, soft and slightly tangled. this is his lips moving against yours like he’s trying to memorize the shape of them, tentative and searching and so, oh so gentle.

the milkshake machine hums. someone laughs in the background. mika has gone very quiet.

when you finally break apart, you’re both breathing harder than you should be.

jake’s cheeks are completely flushed, his lips slightly pinker than before, and he’s looking at you like you’ve just rewritten the laws of physics.

“okay,” he whispers. “yeah. that was—okay.”

you don’t say anything. you can’t. your heart is doing something complicated in your chest, and your lips are tingling, and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how close he still is, his hand still pressed against your lower back.

“your total is fourteen fifty,” mika says, slightly strained.

neither of you moves.

“fourteen fifty,” she repeats, louder. “for the food. that you ordered.”

“right,” jake says. he doesn’t let go of you. “food. yes.”

you don’t let go of him either; his hair is still wrapped around your fingers, and it’s very soft.

“i think,” you say slowly. “we should make sure the discount definitely applied.”

“yeah,” jake agrees immediately. “yeah, we should definitely check. thoroughly. for accuracy.”

“i already applied it,” mika says. “it’s applied. you can see it right here on the screen.”

but you’re not looking at this damn screen.

you’re looking at jake, and he’s looking at you, and there’s a moment of silence where something passes between you — something that’s been there for years, probably, buried under late-night study sessions and shared takeout and the time he held your hand during a horror movie and neither of you mentioned it afterward.

“one more time,” jake breathes. “just to be sure.”

you nod.

and oh, this kiss is very different.

this one isn’t tentative or searching; this one knows exactly what it wants.

jake’s hand presses more firmly against your back, drawing you flush against him, and you go willingly, eagerly, your fingers tightening in his hair. his lips are soft and warm and they move against yours with a confidence that wasn’t there before, parting yours easily, and suddenly you can taste him — slightly sweet, like the mint gum he was chewing earlier.

your free hand slides up his chest; you can feel his heartbeat through the layers of his jacket and hoodie, fast and steady. his fingers curl into the hem of your hoodie, just barely touching the skin of your lower back, and the contact sends a shiver up your spine.

jake tilts his head, and the angle deepens; his lips part further, and yours do too, and suddenly the kiss is open-mouthed and warm and achingly tender. his breath mingles with yours, his nose brushes your cheek. you can feel him smiling against your mouth, just slightly, like he can’t help it, and you realize you’re smiling too.

this isn’t for the discount. this isn’t for mika or the 50% off or the double cheeseburger with extra bacon.

this is because jake’s mouth fits against yours like it was made to, because his hand on your back feels like home, because you’ve been his best friend for years and you’ve never once thought about kissing him until tonight and now you can’t think about anything else.

you completely lose track of time.

the restaurant fades away; there’s only jake — the solid warmth of him, the soft little sounds he makes when you tug gently at his hair, the way his thumb traces absent patterns on your skin.

“okay,” mika says loudly. “okay—i believe you. you two are definitely a couple. please just stop kissing so i can give you your food.”

you break apart slowly.

your lips feel swollen, and jake’s are definitely red now, and his hair is a mess where you’ve been running your fingers through it. he’s looking at you with dark, dazed eyes, and his chest is rising and falling quickly.

“sorry,” jake says, not sounding sorry at all. “we just—really wanted the discount.”

mika slides the tray across the counter. her expression is caught somewhere between amused and traumatized.

“yeah. i could tell.”

you take the tray. your hands are shaking slightly.

jake’s fingers find yours under the counter, intertwining like it’s the most natural thing in the entire world, and this time neither of you pulls away.

you find a booth in the corner, away from the other couples. the milkshake is cold and sweet, and the fries are perfectly salted, and jake is sitting across from you with his knee pressed against yours under the table.

for a long moment, neither of you mentions the kissing. neither of you mentions the way you kept holding hands all the way to the booth, or the way his thumb is still stroking slow circles over your knuckles.

you eat your burger. jake eats his. the pop song changes to another one about love.

“hey,” jake says eventually, not looking up from his fries. “that was—i mean. the kissing. that was…”

“yeah,” you say. “it was.”

jake glances at you through his lashes, and his cheeks are still really pink.

“did you… like it?”

you think about lying; you think about making a joke, deflecting with something stupid, pretending this was all just a bit of fun. you think about the way his lips parted under yours, the sound he made when you pulled him closer, the way his hand felt on your back.

“yeah,” you say honestly. “i really liked it.”

he exhales slowly. his knee presses harder against yours.

“me too,” jake says timidly. “like, a lot. more than i thought i would.”

the silence stretches between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. it’s full — of everything you haven’t said yet, everything you’re both suddenly realizing.

“we should do this again,” jake says. “not the—i mean, yes the kissing, but also—this,” he gestures vaguely at the booth, at the food, at the two of you. “hanging out. but also maybe the kissing. if you want.”

“i want,” you say, and your voice comes out steadier than you feel. “if you want.”

jake smiles. it’s a real, sincere smile; not his usual teasing grin — but soft and open and a little bit nervous.

“yeah. i want.”

outside, the february wind is still cold. the restaurant is still full of couples sharing milkshakes and holding hands, but now you’re one of them, sort of, maybe, and jake’s hand hasn’t left yours since you sat down.

“hey,” he says, picking up his burger. “next year, we should do this again—for the discount.”

you laugh. “we don’t need the discount. we’re not actually a couple.”

jake looks at you for a long moment, and his eyes are so warm, the colour of honey in the low light.

“yeah,” he says softly. “we’re not.”

but his fingers stay intertwined with yours, and neither of you lets go for the rest of the meal.

they rode the elevator up in comfortable silence. yn leaned into him, half asleep against his shoulder. she was still wrapped in the remains of the night. her hair had completely fallen loose now, soft waves spilling over his blazer that still hung around her shoulders.

the moment they stepped inside the room, she kicked off her heels and collapsed face first onto the huge hotel bed.

jay shut the door behind them with a quiet laugh, loosening his tie. “you good, baby?”

her voice was muffled in the pillows. “i think my body has given up.”

he smiled, slipping off his shoes. “you haven’t changed.”

“don’t care,” she murmured. “this bed is heaven. this dress is part of me now.”

he walked over and sat beside her, his expression softening. “let me help you out of it, yeah?”

she hummed in agreement, letting him unzip it slowly. the satin slid down her body, pooling around her waist before he guided it the rest of the way off. underneath, she was still in the ivory lace she had worn earlier, delicate and soft against her skin.

he exhaled quietly, his fingers brushing her waist. “you’re unreal.”

she rolled onto her back, blinking up at him with a sleepy smile. “you’re legally required to say that now.”

he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “i’d say it even when you weren’t my wife. but now i get to say it every day. my wife. my beautiful, genius, terrifyingly hot wife.”

she let out a quiet giggle, her eyes drifting closed. “keep saying nice things while i fall asleep.”

he laughed softly, his lips trailing along her collarbone. his touch was gentle, careful, like he was memorising her.

he pressed slow kisses down her stomach, murmuring something too quiet for her to fully hear. she caught the word “ours,” and her heart flipped.

her skin was warm beneath his hands, carrying traces of perfume and the heat of the long day. jay looked at her like he was still trying to process everything. the wedding. the vows. the life they were building. the life growing quietly inside her.

his entire world.

when he kissed her stomach again, slower this time, she ran her fingers through his hair.

“seongie..” she whispered.

he looked up. “hm?”

“i’m too tired,” she said honestly, her thumb brushing his cheek. “i don’t think i could… you know.”

he leaned into her touch, his smile gentle. “i know, baby. i wasn’t going to ask.”

she exhaled softly. “just want to feel good.”

he nodded, understanding without needing anything else explained.

he kissed her again, slow and tender, his hands resting on her thighs, steady and reassuring. he moved lower, kisses moving to her inner thighs, eliciting soft cute whines from her as her legs jerked with every press of his mouth.

“just relax,” he murmured softly.

so she did.

her head rested back against the pillows, her breathing slowing as she let herself sink into the feeling of him being there.

he pulled the hem of her slip up, only to reveal the sheer white lace panties she wore, completely damp. he groaned internally, pressing a soft kiss over the wet spot. soft whimpers left her lips but she just grounded her fingers in his hair, urging him to do more.

he didn’t want to tease, especially not tonight. not when she had his name now.

jay tugged at the fabric to see her glistening, pretty pink core. it clenched around nothing and he had to physically swallow his saliva back.

“so perfect, so pretty for me, my love,” he mumbled, tongue darting out to lick up her elixir.

that alone had her back arching off the bed, her wetness increasing with every stripe he licked up her cunt. he hummed in his own satisfaction with how delicious she tasted on his tongue and the vibration went straight up her spine.

jay was a master at head. they were both well aware. the way he started slow and sweet, letting her adjust to the weight of his tongue and intensity he would use on her. he would play off her reactions and the noises she would make. but it would always lead to her almost in tears with how insanely good he made her feel.

and tonight was no less. granted he was being 10x more soft and gentle with her but can you really blame a man who is terribly obsessed with his now wife?

god, even the thought of getting to be with her for the rest of his life, her in his bed, wearing his clothes, smelling like his body wash and shampoo, her standing in the same kitchen he made food for her. her swollen with his child. those thoughts were enough to make him completely soil his pants.

but this was about getting her off now. making her realise that she would be feeling like this for the rest of her life. that she would be the only person in this world who got to get off on his tongue and ride his mouth like she was doing right now.

jay pulled back for a split second to look down at the wet patch on his own pants. 

‘yup,’ he thought to himself. ‘that would do it too.’

when he got back to her, he went at it harder but not rough. he brought his hand up to her entrance, putting just enough pressure to make her eyes cross as she squeaked out his name.

“JAY! baby, fuck.”

he grinned to himself, lips sucking around her clit as he slowly stretched her out with a finger. he let out a low, muffled sound as his fingers—he added a second finger—picked up pace inside her, continuously brushing at her gummy spot. his tongue moved eagerly over her bundle of nerves, drawing loud moans as her fingers gripped his hair and that only kept him going faster.

when her thighs started to shake around his shoulders, he drooled slightly against her, making out with her cunt.

“seong.. i’m gonna pee fuck baby…” she pitched out, voice shaky as the knots her stomach coiled tightly. “jay, i’m serious it—oh god…”

“cum for me baby,” he encouraged against her skin. “make a mess all over your husband’s mouth, please?”

that threw her over the edge as she let go. her orgasm gushed out in a spill, dribbling all over his nose and chin, drenching him completely. he continued to pump his fingers, watching her face contort in pleasure as he helped her finish.

“so good for me, my pretty angel girl.” he breathed out, movements slowing as her body relaxed under him, intensity fading into soft aftershocks.

he climbed back up beside her and wrapped the duvet around her. she looked at him with sleepy, dazed eyes.

“you’re not real,” she mumbled. “you’re actually a dream.”

he laughed quietly, kissing her forehead. “i’ll take that as a compliment.”

she smiled against his chest. “thank you.”

he pulled her closer, holding her securely. “anything for you. always.”

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