Untitled

Heeseung ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. The congee he had cooked for you was still sitting forgotten on the kitchen counter, its smell now making you look even sicker. He set the pregnancy test down on the sink counter carefully, as if it might break.He didn’t know what to feel.

Part of him was angry that you had planned to go through this without saying a single word to him. Another part understood your fear he knew how much you hated him, how hard you had tried to pretend that night never happened. But the hurt lingered.

The realization that you were carrying his child and had already decided to end it without giving him any say it stung more than he expected.He crouched down slowly so he was closer to your eye level, though he kept some distance.“You were just going to do it and never tell me?” he asked, voice quieter now, but still carrying that edge of pain. “That’s my kid too, you know.”You didn’t answer. You just cried harder, curling in on yourself.

Heeseung stayed there on the bathroom floor with you, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of you. The silence between you was heavy, filled with everything neither of you had said since that night.For the first time since he found the test, he didn’t know what to do next.

Heeseung remained crouched on the cold bathroom floor, the pregnancy test long forgotten somewhere . The two red lines seemed to burn into his vision no matter how many times he blinked. The weight of what they meant pressed down on him heavily, making it hard to breathe normally.

You were sitting right in front of him, knees drawn up to your chest, face buried in your arms as quiet sobs continued to shake your shoulders. Your breathing was ragged, broken by hiccups, and your entire body looked small and fragile under the harsh bathroom light.Heeseung swallowed the lump in his throat. He set the test gently on the edge of the sink, then slowly shifted closer until he was sitting cross legged on the floor beside you.His voice came out quieter than he had ever spoken to you before.

“I support your decision,” he said carefully, choosing every word with caution. “If you really want to end this, then I support it. I won’t fight you on it. But I want you to think again, okay? Don’t make the choice right now while you’re scared and exhausted. Just give yourself a little time to be sure.”You lifted your head slowly. Your eyes were red and swollen, tears still streaming freely down your cheeks. Your voice cracked when you finally spoke.

“I don’t know if I can take the responsibility of a child,” you whispered, the words trembling. “I’m still in school my capstone project is due soon, I have exhibitions I want to curate one day I can’t do this. I’m not ready for any of it. I never asked for this. I never wanted this to happen.”

The raw fear and despair in your voice hit Heeseung harder than he expected. He watched as another wave of tears spilled over, and something inside his chest twisted painfully.Without thinking, he opened his arms.“Come here,” he murmured. You hesitated for only a second before you leaned forward and collapsed against him. The moment his arms wrapped around you, you broke completely. Heavy, gut wrenching sobs tore out of your throat as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, hands clutching desperately at the front of his hoodie.

Heeseung held you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed slow, soothing circles along your spine. He could feel every shudder that ran through your body, every shaky inhale against his shoulder. Your tears soaked through the fabric of his hoodie, warm and wet, but he didn’t pull away even for a second.

This wasn’t the Heeseung who loved teasing you in the hallway.Right now, he was just a boy holding a girl who was falling apart in his arms the same girl who had spent months hating him, and the same girl who was now carrying his child.

“I’ll book the appointment,” he whispered against your hair, his voice low and steady despite the storm of emotions inside him. “I’ll find a good clinic and take you there myself, okay? I’ll be right there with you the entire time in the waiting room, during the consultation, whatever you need. You aren’t alone in this. I promise you that.”

You cried even harder at his words, your fingers tightening in his hoodie as if he was the only thing keeping you grounded. Your sobs echoed softly in the small bathroom, raw and heartbreaking.Heeseung continued holding you, rocking you ever so slightly as he rubbed your back. He pressed his cheek gently against the top of your head, breathing in the faint scent of your shampoo mixed with the salt of your tears.

“I know you’re scared,” he murmured. “I’m scared too. But we’ll figure this out whatever you decide you don’t have to carry it by yourself anymore.”You stayed like that for a long time curled against his chest on the bathroom floor, his arms wrapped securely around you. Your crying gradually slowed into quiet, exhausted sniffles, but you didn’t pull away. For the first time since that reckless night, the wall between the two of you didn’t feel like a barrier anymore.It felt like something you could both lean on.

Heeseung didn’t rush you. He simply held you, letting you cry until your body grew heavy with exhaustion against him. His hand never stopped its gentle motion on your back, offering the only comfort he knew how to give right now.In that quiet, heavy moment, Heeseung wasn’t the campus king or the arrogant basketball captain. He was just Heeseung and for the first time, you allowed yourself to lean on him completely.

The next few days passed in a strange, heavy blur. After that night on your bathroom floor, something between you and Heeseung had quietly shifted. You had cried yourself exhausted in his arms, and he had stayed holding you without any cocky remarks or teasing. When your sobs finally slowed, he helped you back to bed, made sure you drank some water, and only left after you fell asleep.The following morning, he texted you.

Heeseung : Appointment booked. 7th September, 4:00 PM at the women’s health clinic downtown. I’ll drive you there

You stared at the message for a long time, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You wanted to tell him not to bother. That you could handle it alone. But you were too drained, too scared, and too nauseous to argue. So you simply replied

You : okay

The week leading up to the appointment was one of the hardest you had ever experienced.Your symptoms got significantly worse.The nausea was almost constant now. You threw up multiple times a day sometimes so violently that your throat burned afterward. Smells were unbearable even walking past the campus bakery made you gag. The fatigue was bone deep. You fell asleep in lectures twice, and once you had to excuse yourself from a group meeting because the dizziness became too strong.

Your breasts were painfully tender, and you felt emotionally fragile crying over small things like a sad song or a missed bus.Yunjin and Soobin were growing more suspicious.“Babe, you’ve lost weight,” Yunjin said one afternoon, frowning as she looked at you. “And you look exhausted. This isn’t just capstone stress. Tell us what’s really going on.”

Soobin nodded, his usual soft eyes filled with worry. “If you’re sick, we can help. You don’t have to keep saying you’re ‘fine’ when you clearly aren’t.”You forced a tired smile and gave them the same answer you’d been repeating all week.“I’m alright really just a lot on my plate right now. I’ll feel better soon.”They didn’t fully believe you, but they stopped pushing after a while. Still, you could feel their concerned glances every time you excused yourself to the bathroom or declined food.Through all of it, Heeseung showed a side of himself you had never seen before.He texted you every day.

Heeseung : Did you eat anything today?

Heeseung : How are you feeling this morning?

Heeseung : I’m heading to practice. Text me if the nausea gets bad

You had told him multiple times not to worry.

You : You don’t have to do this im fine

You : Please stop checking on me

But Heeseung ignored your protests completely. Every morning, he waited outside your door to walk with you to the university. When you told him it wasn’t necessary, he simply replied, “I’m going the same way anyway,” and continued doing it. In the evenings, he offered to pick you up from the library if you stayed late. You refused most of the time, but on two occasions when the dizziness was especially bad, you quietly accepted.

He also started cooking for you.He would knock on your door in the evenings with containers of simple, gentle food plain rice porridge with ginger, mild chicken soup, steamed vegetables, and light broths that didn’t trigger your nausea. At first, you felt awkward accepting them, but the meals were the only things you could keep down without throwing up immediately afterward.One night, after he brought over a bowl of warm congee, you finally muttered a quiet “Thank you” while sitting at your desk.Heeseung just shrugged, leaning against your doorway.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “Just eat.”You watched him leave and felt a confusing swirl of emotions gratitude, guilt, anxiety, and something warmer you didn’t want to name. This was not the loud, cocky Heeseung you had spent months hating. This version was quiet, patient, and surprisingly caring. It made everything feel even more complicated.As the 7th of September drew closer, your anxiety skyrocketed.You kept having second thoughts.

What if I’m making a mistake?

What if I regret this later?

What if I can’t go through with it?

You would lie awake at night, hand resting on your still flat stomach, tears silently sliding down your cheeks. The fear and confusion were overwhelming. On the night before the appointment, Heeseung sent you one last text

Heeseung : I’ll pick you up at 3:30 tomorrow. Try to get some rest. I’m here if you need anything

You stared at the message for a long time, heart heavy with emotions you couldn’t even begin to untangle.You were terrified.You were grateful.And you had no idea what you were going to do.

The 7th of September arrived faster than you wanted.

You had decided to skip all your classes that day. The thought of sitting through lectures while pretending everything was normal felt impossible. Instead, you stayed in your apartment, wrapped in a blanket on the couch, heart racing every time you checked the clock. Anxiety sat heavy in your chest like a stone. Your hands wouldn’t stop trembling, and the nausea was especially bad today though you couldn’t tell if it was from pregnancy symptoms or pure terror.

You barely ate. You barely moved. You just sat there, staring into space, wondering if you were really about to go through with this.At exactly 3:30 PM, a soft knock sounded on your door.You jumped slightly, even though you’d been expecting it. Taking a deep breath, you walked over and opened the door.

Heeseung stood there, dressed in a simple black hoodie and grey sweatpants. His hair was still slightly damp, like he’d showered after practice — or maybe he hadn’t gone at all. His expression was calm, but his eyes held a quiet seriousness.“I skipped practice today,” he said simply, as if it was no big deal. “Ready to go?”

You nodded wordlessly, grabbing your bag and stepping out. The walk to his car was silent. The ride to the clinic was even quieter.You sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, but your hands betrayed your nerves. You kept fidgeting twisting your fingers, picking at your nails, clenching and unclenching your fists in your lap. The anxiety was eating you alive.

Heeseung noticed after a few minutes.Without saying anything, he reached into the glove compartment, pulled out a small star shaped squishy toy, and held it out to you.“Here,” he said gently. “Squeeze this instead of hurting your hands.”You looked at the soft, pastel yellow star for a second before slowly taking it from him. It was surprisingly soft and satisfying to press. You mumbled a quiet, “Thank you,” barely audible, then started squeezing it rhythmically in your lap.

The small gesture made your throat feel tight.

For a while, the car was silent again, only the low hum of the engine filling the space. Then Heeseung spoke, keeping his voice soft and casual, clearly trying to distract you.“How are you feeling today?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Nauseous tired scared.”He nodded, eyes fixed on the road. “That’s understandable. You don’t have to be strong right now, you know. It’s okay to be scared.”

You squeezed the star toy harder. After a moment, you asked quietly, “Did you really skip practice for this?”“Yeah,” he answered without hesitation. “Coach wasn’t happy, but I told him it was important. He’ll get over it.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you stayed quiet. Heeseung didn’t push. Instead, he continued with light, careful small talk asking about your capstone project, telling you a harmless story about Beomgyu messing up a drill during practice yesterday, even mentioning how the weather was supposed to cool down next week. His voice stayed steady and low, never teasing, never cocky just there.

Before you knew it, the car slowed down.

You blinked and looked up. The clinic building stood in front of you modern, discreet, with a small sign that made your stomach drop. You hadn’t even realized how fast the drive had gone.Heeseung parked the car smoothly and turned off the engine. For a moment, neither of you moved. The silence returned, heavier this time.You kept squeezing the star toy, knuckles turning white.

Heeseung turned to look at you, his expression gentle but serious.“We’re here,” he said softly. “Whenever you’re ready I’ll go in with you. Or I can wait in the car. Whatever you want.”Your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears. The reality of why you were here hit you all over again. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you forced them back.You whispered, almost to yourself “I don’t know if I can do this”

Heeseung didn’t reply right away. He simply reached over and gently placed his hand on top of yours, the one still squeezing the star toy grounding you for a moment.“You don’t have to decide everything right now,” he said. “Let’s just go inside first. One step at a time.”You nodded shakily, still clutching the squishy star like a lifeline.The appointment was finally here.

And you had no idea what you were going to do.You and Heeseung walked into the clinic together.

The moment the automatic doors slid open, a wave of cool, sterile air hit you. Your heart was hammering so hard you felt dizzy. Heeseung stayed close beside you, not touching you, but near enough that you could feel his presence like a quiet anchor.The waiting room was brighter and softer than you expected. Soft beige walls, comfortable chairs, and gentle lighting. But what really hit you were the other women.

Several pregnant women were sitting around the room. One was gently rubbing her rounded belly while smiling down at her phone. Another was showing ultrasound pictures to the woman beside her, both of them laughing softly with pure joy on their faces. A third woman, quite far along, was resting her hands protectively over her bump, looking peaceful and content.You froze for a second, taking it all in.

These women looked happy excited ready.

You, on the other hand, felt like you were walking toward something terrifying. Your hand tightened around the star-shaped squishy toy Heeseung had given you in the car, squeezing it hard.Heeseung glanced at you but said nothing. He simply stayed by your side as you both approached the reception desk.

You cleared your throat, voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi… I have an appointment at 4:00. My name is [Your Name].”The receptionist smiled kindly and checked her computer. “Yes, I see you here. Please fill out this short form and have a seat. The doctor will call you shortly.”You quickly filled out the paperwork with shaky hands while Heeseung waited beside you. Once you handed it back, the receptionist nodded politely.“You can wait over there. It won’t be long.”

You both moved to two empty seats in the corner. The moment you sat down, your leg started bouncing anxiously. You kept squeezing the star squishy toy over and over, the soft pressure somehow helping you stay grounded. Heeseung sat quietly next to you, elbows resting on his knees, saying nothing but staying close.The silence between you two was heavy but not uncomfortable.

Every few seconds, your eyes would drift back to the pregnant women around the room. One of them laughed softly as she showed her partner an ultrasound photo. Another woman caressed her belly lovingly while reading a pregnancy magazine.

You felt a sharp pang in your chest.They look so sure so happy.You, on the other hand, felt nothing but fear and confusion.

Your hands were trembling again. You squeezed the star toy even harder.Heeseung noticed. He leaned slightly closer, voice low so only you could hear.

“You’re doing okay,” he murmured. “Just breathe.”

You didn’t reply. You just kept squeezing the toy.

A few minutes later, a door opened and a nurse stepped out.“[Your Full Name]?”You stood up on unsteady legs. Heeseung rose with you.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” he asked quietly.You hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod. You didn’t think you could do this completely alone.The nurse led both of you down a short hallway and into a clean, warmly lit consultation room. A woman in her mid-forties with kind eyes and a gentle smile stood up from behind the desk as you entered.

“Hello,” she said warmly, extending her hand. “I’m Dr. Kim. It’s nice to meet you.”You shook her hand weakly. “Hi I’m [Your Name].”

Dr. Kim’s gaze shifted to Heeseung with the same kind expression. “And you are…?”“Heeseung,” he answered. “I’m here with her.”The doctor nodded understandingly, not pressing for more details. She gestured for both of you to sit down on the chairs in front of her desk.

Once you were seated, Dr. Kim folded her hands on the desk and looked at you with gentle patience.

“So, tell me what brings you here today,” she said softly. “Take your time. There’s no rush.”You clutched the star squishy toy tightly in your lap, staring down at it. Your throat felt tight, and your eyes were already burning with unshed tears.You opened your mouth, but it took a few seconds before any words came out.

“I… I took a pregnancy test last week,” you whispered. “It was positive. I’m… I think I want to terminate it.”

Dr. Kim nodded calmly, her expression full of understanding and zero judgment.“I see,” she said gently. “Thank you for trusting me with that. We can talk about all your options today. First, let me ask how have you been feeling physically? Any symptoms?”

You took a shaky breath and started listing them the constant nausea, vomiting, fatigue, dizziness, tender breasts. Dr. Kim listened carefully, occasionally nodding and writing notes.

Heeseung sat silently beside you the entire time, a quiet but steady presence.Dr. Kim’s voice was calm and professional, yet warm in a way that felt intentionally soothing. She leaned forward slightly on her desk, folding her hands as she looked at you with gentle eyes.

“Since you mentioned your symptoms and the positive test, I’d like to perform a quick ultrasound today. This is just to confirm the pregnancy, see how far along you are, and check for a heartbeat. It’s completely external no discomfort. We’ll use this wand on your lower abdomen. Would that be alright with you?”

You nodded slowly, your throat too tight to speak properly. Heeseung stayed quiet beside you, but you felt him shift slightly closer in his chair.

Dr. Kim led you behind a pale blue privacy curtain to the exam bed. The paper sheet crinkled loudly under you as you lay down. She asked you to lift your shirt just below your ribs. The gel she squeezed onto your skin was shockingly cold, making you flinch.“Sorry about that,” she said with a small smile. “It’ll warm up soon.”

She placed the ultrasound wand on your lower belly and began moving it slowly, pressing gently. The screen beside the bed flickered to life with gray, blurry images. Dr. Kim adjusted the angle a few times, her eyes focused.You stared at the monitor, barely breathing.After a few moments of silence, Dr. Kim’s expression softened.“Here we are,” she said gently. “This is the gestational sac and right in the center do you see that little flicker?”

She pointed to a tiny, rhythmic pulsing on the screen.

“That’s the baby’s heartbeat.”The moment you saw it that small, steady flicker of life something inside your chest cracked wide open. Your vision blurred instantly as hot tears flooded your eyes. A choked sob escaped your throat before you could stop it. The tears spilled over, running down the sides of your face and into your hair.

“I can’t do this” you whispered, voice trembling. Then louder, more broken, “I can’t do this I can’t”

Dr. Kim immediately lifted the wand and set it aside. The screen went dark.Heeseung was already moving. He stood up so quickly his chair scraped against the floor. In one smooth motion, he was at your side, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you up into a tight embrace. You buried your face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably as your hands clutched the front of his hoodie.

“Hey shh, it’s okay,” he murmured against your hair, his voice thick. One of his hands rubbed slow, steady circles on your back while the other cradled the back of your head. “Breathe. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You shook your head against him, crying harder.

“I want the baby ” you sobbed, the words spilling out between shaky breaths. “I thought I could do it but I can’t… I can’t get rid of it. That’s my baby. I can’t do this to my baby”

Heeseung held you even tighter. You felt his body tremble slightly, and when you pulled back just enough to look at him, you saw tears streaming silently down his own cheeks. His eyes were red, his jaw tight, but he didn’t try to hide it.“You don’t have to force yourself to do this,” he whispered, voice cracking. He gently wiped some of your tears away with his thumb. “Not to yourself and not to the baby. I’m here. I’m right here, okay? You’re not doing this alone.”

Fresh sobs wracked your body. Heeseung rested his forehead against yours, his own tears falling onto your shirt as he continued speaking, soft and raw.

“We will have this baby,” he said, the words heavy with emotion. “I will do everything and anything for you and the baby. I promise. Whatever you need I’ll be there. Every appointment, every late night, every single thing. You’re not alone anymore. I’ve got you both of you.”

You cried into his shoulder, overwhelmed by fear, guilt, relief, and a thousand other emotions you couldn’t name. Heeseung held you through all of it, rocking you gently, his arms strong and steady around you even as his own tears continued to fall.Dr. Kim stayed respectfully quiet for a long moment, giving you both space. When your crying finally quieted into soft sniffles, she spoke gently.

“There’s no rush to decide anything today. If you’d like to continue with the pregnancy, we can start discussing prenatal care, vitamins, and scheduling your next scans. You can take all the time you need.”

You stayed pressed against Heeseung’s chest, exhausted but no longer feeling completely alone.

For the first time since you saw those two pink lines, the future felt a little less terrifying.Dr. Kim gave you both a moment to collect yourselves after your breakdown. She handed you a tissue box and waited patiently until your sobs quieted into soft sniffles. Heeseung never let go of you again one arm stayed wrapped around your shoulders, his thumb gently brushing your arm in soothing strokes. When you finally calmed down enough to sit up properly, Dr. Kim spoke in a gentle, professional tone. “Since you’ve decided to continue with the pregnancy, let me walk you through what comes next.”

She turned the monitor slightly so both of you could see it better and pointed at the image again.“You’re approximately six weeks along. Everything looks good so far the heartbeat is strong. We’ll schedule a more detailed scan around 8 to 10 weeks to check development. For now, I’m going to prescribe prenatal vitamins. You need to start taking them daily they’re very important for the baby’s neural development.”

She slid a prescription paper across the desk.

“Folic acid is especially crucial in the first trimester. I’ll also recommend a gentle prenatal multivitamin. Try to eat small, frequent meals if the nausea is bad. Ginger tea, crackers, and hydration will help. Avoid raw fish, unpasteurized dairy, and limit caffeine.”Dr. Kim looked at both of you warmly.“I know this is a big adjustment. If you experience severe vomiting, dizziness, or bleeding, come back immediately or go to the ER. I’d like to see you again in two weeks for a follow up. Do you have any questions?”

You shook your head, still overwhelmed. Heeseung, however, spoke up for the first time since your emotional outburst.“What should she avoid? Like food, activities, anything?” His voice was steady but serious.Dr. Kim answered patiently, explaining everything in detail while Heeseung listened carefully, nodding and even pulling out his phone to take notes. You watched him quietly, still surprised by how seriously he was taking all of this.

Before you left, Dr. Kim printed out a small ultrasound picture and handed it to you with a kind smile.

“Here’s your baby’s first picture. Congratulations.”

You took the small black and white image with trembling fingers. The tiny bean shaped spot with that flickering heartbeat was now printed in your hand. You stared at it, throat tight with emotion.

Heeseung helped you stand up. His hand stayed gently on your lower back as you both thanked Dr. Kim and left the room.

The car ride home was quiet. You clutched the ultrasound picture tightly in your lap, staring down at it the entire time. Heeseung drove carefully, one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally flexing like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure if he should.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy. Now that you had decided to keep the baby, the reality of the situation began sinking in for both of you.

Heeseung was going to be a permanent part of your life forever. No more avoiding him in the hallway. No more pretending that night never happened. This baby would tie the two of you together whether you liked it or not. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. His jaw was tense, eyes focused on the road, but there was something softer in his expression something you had never seen before.

What you didn’t know was how deeply this was already affecting him.Heeseung’s heart felt like it was going to burst. From the moment he saw that tiny heartbeat on the screen, something inside him had shifted irreversibly. This baby was his baby it already meant more to him than he could put into words. Despite all the pressure from his father, despite his complicated life and uncertain future in basketball, the thought of this child filled him with a fierce, protective kind of love he had never experienced before.

He already loved this baby.More than he imagined was possible.The car finally pulled into the apartment building parking lot. Heeseung turned off the engine but didn’t move to get out. The silence stretched for a few more seconds.Then he spoke, voice low and serious.“We need to sit down and talk when we get back.”You looked at him, still clutching the ultrasound picture. Your voice came out small.“…Okay.”

Heeseung nodded once, then got out of the car and walked around to open your door. He stayed close as you both walked up to your floor, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you.For the first time, the two of you were about to have a real conversation.And the beginning of whatever this new future was going to look like.“Let’s talk at your place,” he said softly. “If that’s okay with you.”

You nodded. Your legs felt heavy as you both walked up to your apartment. The ultrasound picture was still clutched tightly in your hand. Once inside, you kicked off your shoes and sat down on the couch, exhausted. Heeseung closed the door gently behind him and sat on the armchair directly across from you, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.For a few seconds, the silence was thick.

Then, without any warning or buildup, Heeseung looked you straight in the eyes and said “Marry me.”

You stared at him, completely frozen. The words didn’t register at first. When they finally did, a shocked, disbelieving laugh escaped your lips.

“…What?” You let out another nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Heeseung, are you serious right now?”He didn’t smile. His expression remained dead serious, almost solemn. “I’m serious,” he repeated. “Marry me.”

You blinked rapidly, still trying to process what he had just said. Your heart was racing, confusion and shock swirling inside your chest. “Why would you want to marry me?” you asked, voice rising with disbelief. “Heeseung we don’t even like each other. We’ve spent the last few months hating each other. You used to call me Miss Morals and enjoy annoying the hell out of me. Why are you saying this?”

Heeseung didn’t look away. His gaze stayed steady on yours.“Because you’re carrying my child,” he answered plainly. “This baby is mine too. I don’t want to be a part time dad. I want to be there every single day. So marry me.”You let out a shaky breath and shook your head, tears already pricking at your eyes again.

“That isn’t how it works, Heeseung,” you said, voice cracking. “Marriage isn’t something you do just because there’s a baby. It requires trust and love and actually knowing the other person. We don’t have any of that. We don’t even know each other. Not really. All we’ve ever done is argue and avoid one another.”

Something painful flashed across Heeseung’s face a deep, raw hurt that made his eyes darken and his jaw tighten. He looked away for a second, swallowing hard, before forcing himself to meet your eyes again.

“We can make it work if we try,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “People build marriages on less. We can learn to get along. For the baby’s sake.”You felt your chest tighten. The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over.“What if I haven’t met my person yet?” you whispered, voice trembling. “What if I meet the person I’m actually meant to be with while we’re married? What if you do? I don’t want to be bound to you, Heeseung. Not like this. Not when we started all of this hating each other.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you saw it again that same flash of hurt, deeper this time. Heeseung’s shoulders dropped slightly. He looked genuinely wounded, like your rejection had cut him far more than you expected.He stayed silent for a long moment, staring at the floor. Then he let out a slow, tired breath.“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice rough. “I understand.”

You frowned, confused by the clear pain on his face. You didn’t understand why he looked so hurt. You two had spent months being enemies. He used to thrive on annoying you. So why did your refusal to marry him seem to affect him this badly?Heeseung stood up slowly, running a hand through his hair.“I should go,” he muttered. “You need rest.”He paused at the door for a second, back facing you.

“I’m still going to be here,” he added without turning around. “For the baby. Whether we get married or not I’m not going anywhere.”Then he left, closing the door softly behind him.You stayed seated on the couch, ultrasound picture still in your lap, feeling more lost and confused than ever before.The silence after Heeseung left the room didn’t last long. Barely ten minutes later, there was a soft knock on your door again. When you opened it, he was standing there, looking exhausted but determined.

“Can I come back in?” he asked quietly.You nodded and stepped aside.Heeseung walked in and sat on the same armchair as before. You returned to the couch, pulling your knees up to your chest. The ultrasound picture was still lying on the coffee table between you two.Heeseung rubbed his face with both hands before speaking.“Look even if we’re not getting married right now,” he said slowly, “we need to at least pretend to date, right? For the baby. So people don’t ask too many questions. So it doesn’t look like some random hookup.”

You thought about it for a moment, then gave a small, tired nod.“Yeah that makes sense.”Heeseung looked relieved. “Okay good.”He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “And about money I’m going to take care of all the expenses. Doctor visits, vitamins, food, whatever you need yours too you don’t have to worry about that.”You immediately frowned and sat up straighter.“I can take care of myself, Heeseung. I’ve been doing it this whole time.”

“I know you can,” he said gently but firmly. “But you’re carrying my child. Let me do this please I want to.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but the exhaustion in your body and the look in his eyes made you close it. You eventually gave a small, reluctant nod.“…Fine.”Heeseung looked a little more relaxed after that. Then you asked the question that had been weighing on you.

“Are we going to tell everyone that I’m pregnant?”

Heeseung shook his head slowly.“It’s totally up to you,” he said. “You decide who you want to tell and when. I won’t say anything to anyone unless you’re okay with it.”You thought about it for a while, fingers tracing the edge of the ultrasound picture.“Soobin and Yunjin,” you said quietly. “I want to tell them. They’ve been really worried about me. And you can tell your close friends. Beomgyu, Jake, Jay and your coach, I suppose. They’ll probably notice eventually anyway.”

Heeseung nodded. “That sounds fair.”You hesitated, then continued.“What about our parents? We should let them know, right?”Heeseung’s expression changed slightly. He looked more tense.“Are your parents going to be okay with this?” he asked carefully.You gave a small, tired smile.“Yeah I think so. My mom and dad have always supported me no matter what. They might be shocked at first, but once they hear they’re getting a grandbaby they’ll probably be over the moon. They’ve always wanted grandchildren.”

Heeseung smiled faintly at that, but it didn’t reach his eyes. When you looked at him expectantly, he let out a long breath and leaned back in the chair.

“I don’t know how mine will react,” he admitted, voice quieter. “My dad he’s complicated. If he finds out I got someone pregnant while I’m still trying to make it to the NBA” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”

You watched him carefully. For the first time, you saw the weight he was carrying the pressure, the expectations, the fear of disappointing his family.

The conversation settled into a heavy but honest silence. So many things were still uncertain. Your future, your relationship (or lack of one), how you were going to navigate this together.But at least now, you were talking. After the heavy conversation, Heeseung stood up slowly, running a hand through his hair. The air in your apartment felt thick with everything that had just been said and everything that still remained unsaid.

He looked at you for a long moment, eyes soft but tired.“I should go,” he said quietly. “You need to rest. It’s been a really long day.”You nodded, too drained to argue. Heeseung walked toward the door, then paused with his hand on the handle. “Take care of yourself, okay?” he said, glancing back at you. His voice was gentle, almost hesitant. “Eat something light if you can drink water text me if the nausea gets bad or if you need anything. I’m right next door.”

You gave him a small, tired nod. “Yeah I will.”He lingered for another second, like he wanted to say more, but eventually just offered a faint smile and left, closing the door softly behind him.The moment the lock clicked, the silence in your apartment felt suffocating.You were alone.You curled up on the couch, pulling your knees to your chest and hugging them tightly. The ultrasound picture was still on the coffee table, staring back at you. You reached out and picked it up, tracing the tiny bean-shaped spot with your fingertip.

Tears blurred your vision again.Now came the hardest part figuring out how to tell the people you loved.

Your mind immediately went to your parents. Strangely, that felt almost easy.Your mom and dad had always been incredibly supportive. They had raised you to be independent, but they’d also made it clear that no matter what happened in life mistakes, heartbreaks, unexpected turns they would stand by you. You could already imagine your mom’s initial shock turning into tears of joy once she processed that she was going to be a grandmother.

Your dad would probably go quiet at first, then start asking a million practical questions while secretly being over the moon.Telling them felt scary, but safe. You knew they would love this baby. They would support you no matter what path you chose.But Yunjin and Soobin?That felt terrifying.They were your best friends. They had watched you complain about Heeseung for months. They knew how much you couldn’t stand him. They had seen you avoid him like the plague. How were you supposed to tell them that you had gotten drunk at a party, slept with the neighbor you hated, and were now keeping his baby?

Yunjin would probably scream then cry then demand to know every single detail while spiraling with worry. Soobin he would be quiet at first, shocked, but then his concern would kick in. He would worry about your health, your future, your capstone, your dreams. You hated the idea of disappointing them or making them feel like they had failed to notice how much you were struggling.You buried your face in your knees, letting out a shaky breath.

How do you even start that conversation?Hey guys, remember how I disappeared at Sunghoon’s party? Yeah I slept with Heeseung. And now I’m pregnant.

The thought alone made you want to crawl under the blankets and never come out.You placed a protective hand over your stomach, still flat but no longer feeling empty.

This baby was real now. You had chosen to keep it. And that choice was going to change everything your friendship with Yunjin and Soobin, your relationship (or lack of one) with Heeseung, your entire future.

You stayed curled up on the couch for a long time, ultrasound picture still in your other hand, heart heavy with fear and quiet determination.

Telling your parents felt like something you could survive.Telling your best friends felt like walking into an emotional battlefield.But you knew you couldn’t keep this secret forever. Not from the people who loved you most.

The next morning, you woke up to soft, hesitant knocks on your door.Your eyes fluttered open, still heavy from crying and restless sleep. The ultrasound picture was lying on your pillow beside you you must have fallen asleep clutching it. Your body felt sore, your eyes puffy, and your hair was a complete mess. The nausea was already simmering in your stomach, a cruel reminder that nothing about this was a dream.

The knocking came again gentle, almost careful.You dragged yourself out of bed, wrapped a loose cardigan over your oversized sleep shirt, and padded to the door. When you opened it, Heeseung was standing there.

He looked freshly showered, wearing a simple black hoodie and sweatpants, hair still slightly damp. In his hands was a paper bag and two cups of what smelled like warm tea.The moment he saw you messy hair, swollen eyes, tired face you suddenly became painfully self conscious. You crossed your arms over your chest and tried to smooth your hair with one hand, cheeks heating up.Heeseung’s expression softened.

“I got you breakfast,” he said quietly, lifting the bag a little. “Something light. Ginger tea and plain rice porridge with a bit of egg. Thought it might help with the nausea.” He paused, looking almost nervous. “Can I come in and eat with you?”You hesitated for a second, then nodded.“Yeah okay. Just give me a minute to freshen up.”

Heeseung gave you a small nod and stepped inside as you retreated to the bathroom. You quickly brushed your teeth, splashed cold water on your face, tied your hair into a messy bun, and changed into a loose sweater and comfortable pants. When you came back out, Heeseung had already set everything up on your small dining table.Two bowls of warm porridge, the ginger tea, and even a small side of fresh fruit he must have brought along. He was waiting for you, standing awkwardly by the table.

You sat down across from him. The silence was soft, not uncomfortable.You both started eating slowly. The porridge was gentle on your stomach warm, lightly seasoned, and easy to keep down. For the first time in days, you actually managed a few proper spoonfuls without feeling like you’d throw up immediately.

After a few minutes of quiet eating, Heeseung spoke.

“I can drop you at university every morning,” he said, eyes on his bowl. “I’ll adjust my practice schedule if I need to. But I can’t always promise I’ll be able to pick you up in the evenings because of team practice and meetings. Still I want to take you in the mornings at least.”You looked up at him, spoon paused halfway to your mouth.“You really don’t have to do that, Heeseung. It’s not necessary.”He shook his head gently but firmly.

“It is necessary,” he replied. “You’re carrying my child. Taking care of you and the life growing inside you that’s my responsibility now. Whether we’re together or not.”His words hung in the air between you. There was no cockiness in his tone, no arrogance, just quiet determination. You stared at him for a long moment, a strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest, gratitude, confusion and fear.And something warmer you weren’t ready to name yet.You looked back down at your bowl, stirring the porridge slowly.

“…Thank you,” you whispered.Heeseung gave you a small, almost shy smile the softest you had ever seen from him.“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “Just let me help. Okay?”You nodded, too tired and overwhelmed to argue.For the rest of breakfast, you both ate in relatively comfortable silence. Every now and then Heeseung would glance at you, making sure you were actually eating the quiet felt new different not quite friendly yet.But no longer hostile.

You both finished breakfast in a surprisingly comfortable silence. The porridge had settled well in your stomach, and for the first time in days, you didn’t feel like you needed to run to the bathroom immediately after eating. Heeseung cleared the bowls and cleaned up without being asked, moving around your small kitchen like he was trying not to overstep.

When he was done, he turned to you.“I’ll wait for you downstairs in my car,” he said gently. “Take your time getting ready. No rush.”

You nodded, still a little dazed from everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. Heeseung gave you one last look soft, almost careful before heading out and closing the door quietly behind him. As soon as he left, you hurried to get dressed. You chose something comfortable: an oversized hoodie, loose jeans, and sneakers. You brushed your hair into a simple ponytail and splashed some water on your face, trying to look at least a little presentable. Your hands were still shaking slightly as you grabbed your bag and the ultrasound picture (which you tucked safely into your notebook).

When you stepped outside, Heeseung’s car was waiting right in front of the building. You slid into the passenger seat, and he gave you a small smile before pulling out of the parking lot.The drive to university started off quiet, but Heeseung eventually broke the silence.“So…” he started, glancing at you. “I realized I don’t actually know much about you. Other than the fact that you hate loud music and call me an entitled asshole.”

You let out a soft, surprised laugh despite yourself.

Heeseung’s lips curved into a gentle smirk. “What do you like? Favorite food? Favorite artist? Anything.”

You thought for a moment, squeezing the star shaped squishy toy he had given you yesterday, which was still in your hoodie pocket.

“I like quiet places,” you said. “Museums, art galleries, bookstores with big windows. I love matcha, but lately it makes me nauseous so maybe not right now. I like soft music acoustic stuff and I really love curating imagining how paintings and sculptures would look together in a room. It’s calming.”Heeseung listened attentively, nodding.“What about you?” you asked, surprising yourself by actually being curious. “What do you like when you’re not being loud and annoying?”

He chuckled lightly. “Basketball, obviously. But I also like late night drives. And ramyun the kind that makes your nose run. I’m terrible at drawing, but I like watching you sketch when you’re focused. You get this little crease between your eyebrows.”You glanced at him, cheeks warming. The conversation flowed easier than expected. He asked about your favorite movies, what kind of exhibitions you dreamed of curating one day, and what you hated most about university (early morning lectures and group projects with lazy people).

You teased him lightly about his loud parties, and he admitted that he sometimes turned the music up just to see if you’d come banging on his door.By the time he pulled into the university parking lot, you were both surprised at how easily the conversation had come.But the moment you stepped out of his car, reality hit you like a truck.Everyone was staring.

Students walking by slowed down. A group of girls near the entrance openly gawked. Whispers started almost immediately. You were very aware of how it looked you, leaving Heeseung’s car early in the morning, him leaning over to say something to you before you closed the door.

Your face burned with embarrassment. This was a bad idea a very bad idea.You didn’t even thank him. You just lowered your head, pulled your hood up, and walked away quickly, shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on the ground. You could feel hundreds of eyes on your back as you hurried toward the main building.

Heeseung watched you go, his expression unreadable. He stayed parked for a few extra seconds before driving off to find a spot.

You kept your head down the entire way to your first class, heart racing, already regretting how public this was becoming.The secret was no longer just yours and his.And campus was about to get very interested in the sudden shift between the girl who hated Lee Heeseung and the basketball captain who was now driving her to university.

Your heart was still pounding wildly as you hurried across campus toward the Art History lecture hall. Every few steps, you felt like someone was staring at you. Whispers seemed to follow you like shadows “Was that Heeseung’s car?”, “Did you see them together?”, “I thought she hated him?” making your skin crawl with embarrassment and anxiety.You kept your head down, hood pulled low over your face, walking as fast as your tired legs would allow without breaking into a run.

The ultrasound picture hidden safely inside your notebook felt like it weighed a ton in your bag. By the time you pushed open the door to the lecture hall, your breathing was slightly ragged and a fresh wave of nausea was threatening to rise.Yunjin and Soobin were already in your usual seats middle row, near the window. The moment they saw you approaching, their expressions shifted.Yunjin’s eyes widened dramatically. “Oh my god, what happened to you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or ten ghosts.”

Soobin turned in his seat, his gentle face immediately filling with concern. “Are you okay? You’re really pale.”

You forced a weak, tired smile as you dropped into the empty seat between them, trying your best to look normal even though your hands were still trembling slightly.“I’m fine,” you said, voice quieter than usual. “I was just running late this morning. Rushed here from the other side of campus.”Soobin glanced at his watch, then back at you with a small frown. “We still have like fifteen minutes before class starts though.”

You froze for a split second, heart skipping. Your mind scrambled for an excuse.

“Yeah I know,” you mumbled, quickly pulling out your notebook and flipping through the pages as if you were looking for something important. “I thought I was way later than I actually was. My brain’s been all over the place lately with the capstone deadline.”

Yunjin wasn’t convinced. She leaned closer, studying your face like a detective. “Are you sure that’s it? You’ve been acting weird for weeks now. Disappearing, not replying to texts, looking exhausted every time we see you”

You swallowed hard and kept your eyes fixed on your notes, refusing to meet their worried gazes.“I’m alright, really,” you insisted, forcing another small smile. “Just been super busy and stressed. You know how it is with this project.”Before Yunjin could push further, Soobin spoke up again, his tone soft but clearly concerned.“You didn’t reply to any of our messages yesterday evening or night,” he said. “We were both really worried. Yunjin was about to go knock on your door at midnight.”

Your chest tightened. You had seen the string of worried texts from both of them asking if you were okay, if you needed anything, if something was wrong. You had read them all but couldn’t bring yourself to answer.“I was just really busy,” you repeated, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. “Got caught up with work and forgot to check my phone. Sorry for making you guys worry.”

Yunjin opened her mouth again, clearly ready to interrogate you more, but right at that moment, the professor walked into the lecture hall carrying his usual stack of papers and laptop. The room gradually quieted down as he set up at the front.“Alright, everyone. Let’s dive straight into today’s topic the evolution of museum curation practices in the late 19th century…”You let out a silent breath of relief as the lecture began. You kept your head down, pretending to take diligent notes while your mind continued to spiral.

The ultrasound picture hidden in your bag felt like it was burning a hole through your notebook. Heeseung’s words from last night and this morning kept replaying in your head. The weight of your new reality pressed down on you harder with every passing minute.Yunjin kept throwing concerned glances your way throughout the class. Soobin, ever observant, stayed quiet but you could feel his worried eyes on you from time to time.

You knew you couldn’t keep dodging them forever.

But for now, as the professor’s voice filled the room, you clung to this temporary escape, squeezing the star shaped squishy toy hidden in your hoodie pocket for comfort. The lecture hall felt unusually stuffy today. You tried your best to focus on the professor’s voice as he discussed 19th century museum practices, but your mind kept drifting. Your phone vibrated quietly in your lap for the third time. You discreetly glanced down, hiding the screen from Yunjin and Soobin.

Heeseung : Hey, just checking in. How are you feeling right now? Nausea any better?

You stared at the message for a few seconds, then typed back with slightly shaky fingers.

You : I’m okay still a bit nauseous but it’s manageable

Not even a minute later, another message popped up.

Heeseung : Good. What do you feel like eating for dinner tonight? I’ll make something light that won’t upset your stomach. Maybe porridge again? Or soup?

You bit your lip, thinking. The idea of him cooking for you again felt strangely comforting, even if it also made everything feel more complicated.

You : I’m not sure. Anything is fine, really I don’t have much appetite these days

His reply came quickly, as if he had been waiting.

Heeseung : Alright. I’ll go with mild chicken porridge with ginger and some steamed vegetables on the side. Easy to digest. Let me know if you crave anything specific, okay?

You read the message twice. A small, unconscious smile crept onto your lips without you realizing it. The simple thoughtfulness behind his texts remembering what your body could handle right now felt unexpectedly warm. Your thumb hovered over the screen as you considered how to reply.Yunjin, who had been side eyeing you the entire time, suddenly leaned over and whispered loudly enough for Soobin to hear, “Why are you smiling at your phone like that? You look suspiciously happy for someone who’s been acting like a zombie for weeks.”

You startled and quickly locked your screen, shoving the phone into your bag.“It’s nothing,” you muttered, avoiding both of their curious gazes. “Just a funny meme I saw.”Yunjin raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “A meme? Since when do memes make you smile like you just won the lottery?”Soobin chuckled softly beside you but didn’t push. Still, you could feel both of them watching you more closely for the rest of the lecture.

When the final class of the day finally ended, you packed your things slowly, hoping the crowd in the hallway would thin out. But the moment the three of you stepped out of the lecture hall into the bustling corridor, you knew something was wrong.

Eyes were everywhere.Students who usually walked past without a second glance were now openly staring. A group of girls near the notice board pulled out their phones as you passed. Whispers rippled through the hallway like a wave. Someone even pointed discreetly in your direction.

Yunjin noticed immediately and linked her arm with yours. “Okay, what the hell is going on? Did we suddenly become celebrities overnight?”Soobin moved to your other side, creating a small protective barrier. “It does feel like we’re in one of those high school drama scenes where everyone turns to look at the main characters,” he joked lightly, though his voice held clear concern. “Did you do something scandalous without telling us?”

You kept your head down, cheeks burning with embarrassment. You knew exactly why they were staring. The news of you getting out of Heeseung’s car this morning had clearly spread like wildfire across campus.You didn’t respond to their teasing. You just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.

Just as you turned the corner toward the main exit, Soobin’s phone buzzed loudly. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and his expression changed instantly from amused to shocked.

“Uh… guys?” His voice was unusually serious. “You really need to see this.”He turned the phone toward you and Yunjin.It was a notification from Decelis Confessions the infamous anonymous campus Twitter account that loved stirring drama.The post had already exploded with likes, retweets, and comments in a very short time.

Decelis Confessions : “Plot twist of the semester 😳

Spotted this morning basketball captain Lee Heeseung personally dropping off the girl who has publicly hated him for months. They looked pretty cozy getting out of his car together. What happened to ‘I can’t stand him’? 👀

Picture attached.”

Below the caption was a clear, well timed photo of you stepping out of Heeseung’s car this morning. Your face was visible enough for people to recognize you, even with your hood partially up. The comments were already spiraling out of control

• “Wait… wasn’t she the one who always complained about his parties???”

• “Enemies to lovers speedrun 💀”

• “Heeseung finally got the girl who hated him the most”

• “This is the most interesting thing that’s happened all semester”

Yunjin’s eyes widened dramatically as she read it. “What the actual fuck is this?!”Soobin looked at you with deep concern, his usual calm expression cracking. “Is this real? You came to school with Heeseung today?”You felt your stomach drop violently. The nausea you had managed to keep under control all day came rushing back with full force. Your hands started trembling as you stared at the post, frozen in the middle of the busy hallway while more students walked past, whispering and checking their phones.

The secret was no longer contained itwas public.

And it was spreading faster than you could ever hope to control.The three of you stood frozen in the middle of the busy hallway, Soobin’s phone still held out between you. The Decelis Confessions post glowed brightly on the screen, the photo of you stepping out of Heeseung’s car crystal clear for everyone to see. The comments were flooding in so fast the numbers were climbing by the second.Yunjin’s mouth fell open. “This is you this is literally you this morning.” Soobin looked at you with wide, concerned eyes. “You came with Heeseung today?”

You felt your face burn with embarrassment. The nausea that had been simmering all day surged violently, and you had to swallow hard to keep it down. Your hands were trembling as you clutched the strap of your bag.You forced yourself to speak, voice shaky but trying to sound casual.“He just dropped me because I was running late this morning,” you said quickly, repeating the excuse you had given them earlier. “That’s all. I told you guys I was in a rush.”

Yunjin wasn’t convinced. She crossed her arms, staring at you intensely. “Running late? Since when does Lee Heeseung play taxi for someone he supposedly hates?”

You shifted uncomfortably on your feet, avoiding their gazes. The whispers around you were getting louder. More people were stopping to look.“I… I have something to tell you guys,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely audible over the hallway noise. “But not right now. I’ll tell you when the time is right. I promise.”Yunjin’s eyes narrowed. She stepped closer, refusing to let you dodge this.“No way you can’t drop a bomb like that and then say ‘later.’ What is going on? First you disappear at the party, then you look like death for two weeks, now you’re getting out of Heeseung’s car like it’s normal? Spill it.”

Soobin placed a gentle hand on Yunjin’s arm, trying to calm her down.“Yunjin,” he said softly but firmly, “she said she’ll tell us when she’s ready. We should respect that. She’s clearly going through something.”

Yunjin huffed, clearly frustrated, but she backed off a little. Still, she couldn’t resist one last sarcastic jab.

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Don’t tell me you’re secretly dating Heeseung now and you’re pregnant with his child or something.”She laughed at her own ridiculous joke.You, however, froze.

The words hit way too close to home. Your stomach twisted violently. For a split second, you felt like the entire hallway was spinning. You let out an awkward, strained laugh too loud, too forced trying desperately to play it off.“Haha… yeah, right,” you managed, the sound hollow even to your own ears. “As if.”Yunjin raised an eyebrow at your weird reaction but eventually shrugged it off, linking her arm with yours again as the three of you continued walking.

“Whatever but seriously, you better tell us soon. We’re worried about you.”Soobin gave you a small, reassuring smile, though the concern in his eyes didn’t fade. “Whenever you’re ready. No pressure.”You nodded weakly, forcing another smile as you walked with them toward the exit. Inside, your heart was pounding so hard you thought it might burst. The ultrasound picture hidden in your bag suddenly felt ten times heavier.

Yunjin’s sarcastic joke had been way too accurate.

And you had no idea how much longer you could keep pretending everything was fine.The rest of your classes dragged on painfully.You kept your hood pulled up the entire day, even indoors, trying to hide your face as much as possible. It didn’t help. Everywhere you went walking through the corridors, sitting in the library during break, or moving between lecture halls people stared some whispered some openly pointed a few girls even took subtle photos as you passed by.You felt incredibly small.

Like you had shrunk to the size of an ant under a microscope. Every glance made your shoulders curl inward. Every whisper made your stomach twist with nausea and anxiety. You kept your head down, eyes fixed on the floor or your notebook, clutching the star-shaped squishy toy Heeseung had given you like a lifeline. You barely spoke in group discussions. You barely ate during lunch, pushing the food around your plate while Yunjin and Soobin exchanged worried glances.Soobin noticed everything.He stayed close to you the whole day, walking on the side where more people could see him, subtly shielding you from the worst of the stares. During breaks, he tried his best to lighten the mood with his usual gentle humor.

At one point, while you were sitting on a bench between classes, he nudged your shoulder lightly.

“You know,” he said softly, “if everyone’s going to stare anyway, we should give them something worth staring at. Maybe start doing dramatic poses every time someone looks?”You let out a small, tired laugh despite yourself. Soobin smiled, pleased that he managed to get even that out of you.He kept it up throughout the day sharing funny memes, telling light stories about his roommate’s failed cooking attempts, and reminding you of that time the three of you got lost during a group project trip last semester.

His quiet, steady presence helped more than he probably realized.When the final class ended, Soobin didn’t even ask he simply fell into step beside you.

“I’ll drop you back to your apartment,” he said gently. “No arguments.”You were too drained to protest. The walk to your building was quiet, but Soobin made sure to fill the silence with easy conversation, never pushing you to talk about what was really going on.

When you finally reached your door, you turned to him with a small, grateful smile.“Thank you, Soobin. For today and for walking me back.”

He gave you that soft, warm smile of his. “Anytime. You know that, right? If you need to talk I’m here.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I know. Thank you.”Soobin waited until you were safely inside before waving goodbye and heading off.The moment the door closed behind you, you leaned against it, letting out a long, exhausted breath. Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Heeseung : Did you reach home safely?

You replied quickly.

You : Yes Soobin dropped me back

There was a slightly longer pause than usual before his next message came in.

Heeseung : Oh good that he was there. I’ll bring dinner over later if you want

You stared at the message. It was polite. Normal, even. But something about the “Oh.” and the brief delay felt off. Like a tiny flicker of something unspoken.You didn’t reply right away. You just slid down to the floor, still wearing your hoodie with the hood up, feeling the weight of the day crash over you.

The stares the whispers the rumors spreading like wildfire.Everything was changing so fast.You pulled out the ultrasound picture again and stared at the tiny flicker of a heartbeat, hand resting gently on your stomach.This little life inside you was already turning your world upside down.And now, even Heeseung’s messages carried a quiet weight you couldn’t quite name.

That evening, Heeseung showed up at your door right on time with dinner.He carried a paper bag filled with carefully prepared containers mild chicken porridge with ginger, steamed vegetables, and some fresh fruit slices. Nothing strong smelling. Nothing that would trigger your nausea. He handed it over with a quiet “Eat slowly,” waited until you took a few spoonfuls in front of him, and then left without lingering too long.

From that point on, the next month slowly settled into a new, surprisingly comfortable rhythm between the two of you.

Heeseung became a constant, quiet presence in your life. He was nothing like the loud, arrogant neighbor you had spent months disliking. He was attentive in ways that quietly surprised you. Some mornings, he would knock softly on your door with breakfast already packed simple things like rice porridge or toast with a little honey that your stomach could handle. Other times, he would show up in the afternoon with electrolyte drinks and medicine when he noticed you hadn’t left your apartment all day. On particularly bad nausea days, he would bring over warm ginger tea without you even asking.

He started staying over more often too. Sometimes he would sleep on your couch after bringing dinner, especially on nights when your anxiety kept you awake or the nausea was relentless. You would wake up to find him already making plain toast in your kitchen or folding the blanket he had used. His loud parties had almost completely disappeared. The music was rare now, and when it did play, it was kept low and ended early.

He was there for the small things too. When your favorite hoodie got a tear, a new one in the exact same oversized style appeared at your door the next day. When you mentioned in passing that the smell of your old shampoo made you sick, he came back with a new, scent free one. On days when the fatigue was overwhelming, he would quietly sit with you on the couch, not pushing you to talk, just keeping you company while you rested. You were now two months pregnant.

Your bump was still small enough to hide under loose hoodies and oversized sweaters, but your body was changing in ways that were impossible to ignore. The nausea came in unpredictable waves. The exhaustion made even simple tasks feel heavy. Your emotions swung wildly one moment you felt determined, the next you were crying over nothing. And yet, you still hadn’t told Yunjin, Soobin, or your parents.

Every time you tried to find the right moment, it never felt perfect. The fear of their reactions, their questions, and the overwhelming reality of it all kept stopping you.

This evening, Yunjin was coming over for a group study session. You had already texted Heeseung earlier in the day

You : Yunjin is coming over tonight for study. Can’t do dinner together sorry

His reply had been simple and understanding

Heeseung : No worries lmk if you need anything

At 6:45 PM, there was a knock on your door. You opened it expecting Yunjin.Instead, Heeseung stood there holding a small bag.“I know you said no dinner,” he said softly, “but I brought some light snacks in case you get hungry later. Ginger cookies and cut fruit. Just keep them in the fridge.”You took the bag, feeling that familiar warmth spread through your chest again. “Thank you,” you whispered.Heeseung gave you a small, gentle smile. His eyes lingered on you for a second longer than usual, like he wanted to say more, but he simply nodded.

“I’ll be next door if you need me.”He turned to leave just as Yunjin appeared at the end of the hallway, carrying her bag and laptop. The moment she saw Heeseung leaving your apartment, her eyebrows shot up.She waited until he disappeared into his own door before stepping inside yours and closing the door with a dramatic click.“Okay,” she said immediately, crossing her arms. “What the hell was that?”You froze for a split second at Yunjin’s question, then forced a casual shrug, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“He just had some extra fruits and snacks,” you said, avoiding her sharp gaze. “He was being a good neighbor, that’s all. No big deal.”Yunjin stared at you like you had grown a second head. She let out a loud, disbelieving scoff and crossed her arms tighter. “A good neighbor?” she repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Heeseung? The same guy who used to blast music until 3 a.m. just to piss you off? The one you called an entitled asshole for months? Since when does he randomly bring you snacks like some thoughtful boyfriend? Come on. He’s never been good to you. He’s an asshole, and we both know it.”

Her words hit harder than you expected. You felt a pang of defensiveness rise in your chest, even though part of you knew she was right or at least, she used to be.You rubbed your temple, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Yunjin, can you please calm down? It’s really not that deep. Let’s just get our books out and start studying, okay? I’ll go get the snacks and cut fruits he brought.”You didn’t wait for her reply. You quickly moved toward the kitchen area, grateful for the excuse to escape her intense stare.

Your hands were slightly shaky as you took out the containers Heeseung had brought the ginger cookies, fresh fruit slices, and some light crackers. You arranged them neatly on a plate, trying to buy yourself a few extra seconds to collect your thoughts.

Yunjin muttered something under her breath behind you, but you ignored it and focused on the task.

Two minutes later, you returned to the living room with the plate of snacks, forcing a small smile.“Here, I brought—”Your words died in your throat.

Yunjin was no longer sitting on the couch.She was sitting on the edge of your bed, holding the ultrasound picture in her hands. The same one you had left on your nightstand earlier, half hidden under a notebook. Her eyes were wide, completely fixed on the small black and white image. The room felt like all the air had been sucked out of it. You froze on the spot, the plate trembling slightly in your hands. Your heart slammed against your ribcage so hard you thought it might break.

Yunjin slowly looked up at you, her expression a mixture of shock, confusion, and dawning realization.

“…What the hell is this?” she whispered, voice barely audible.The snacks suddenly felt too heavy. The plate nearly slipped from your fingers as the weight of the moment crashed down on you. You had imagined telling her a thousand times, but never like this. Never with her accidentally finding the proof before you were ready.Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You just stood there, frozen in the middle of your apartment, staring at your best friend holding the ultrasound picture of the baby you were still too scared to fully talk about.

Yunjin’s eyes flicked back down to the image, then back up to your face. Her voice cracked slightly when she spoke again.“Is this… yours?”You stood frozen in the middle of your room, the plate of snacks still trembling in your hands. Yunjin’s eyes were wide, locked onto the ultrasound picture she was holding. The silence stretched for what felt like forever. Finally, you gave a small, shaky nod.Yunjin’s reaction was immediate.

“Oh my god—” She dropped the picture onto the bed and rushed toward you, nearly knocking the plate out of your hands. She wrapped her arms around you tightly, pulling you into a fierce hug. “Oh my god, congratulations!!”You were completely taken back. Your body stiffened at first, but the warmth of her hug and the genuine joy mixed with shock in her voice broke something inside you. Tears welled up in your eyes instantly. You hugged her back, burying your face in her shoulder as both of you started crying.

Yunjin was sobbing softly, rocking you gently. “I can’t believe this You’re pregnant? You’re actually pregnant? Oh my god, I’m so happy for you but I’m also so mad you didn’t tell me sooner!” You cried harder into her shoulder, the relief of finally being seen of not carrying this secret completely alone anymore washing over you in waves. The two of you stood there in the middle of your apartment, hugging and crying for a long minute, the plate of snacks long forgotten on the table.

Eventually, you both pulled back, wiping your tears. Yunjin’s mascara was slightly smudged, and she let out a watery laugh as she cupped your face with both hands.“Tell me everything,” she whispered, still emotional. “When did this happen? How far along are you? Are you okay?” You sat down on the edge of the bed together. You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “We we’re dating,” you said first, the lie slipping out carefully. “Me and Heeseung. It started after Sunghoon’s party.”

Yunjin’s eyes widened, but before she could react fully, you continued, dropping the bigger truth.“And he’s the father.”The words hung in the air.Yunjin froze completely. Her mouth fell open in pure shock. For a few long seconds, she just stared at you, processing.

Then she let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh.

“I I suspected something was going on between you two,” she admitted, still looking stunned. “The way you’ve been acting lately, disappearing, looking exhausted, and then suddenly getting out of his car this morning I thought maybe you were secretly seeing each other. But him being the father? Holy shit.”

She grabbed your hands, squeezing them tightly, her expression shifting rapidly between shock, worry, and tentative happiness.“Are you okay? Like, actually okay? This is a lot. And with Heeseung of all people” She trailed off, searching your face. “Do you want this baby? Are you keeping it?”You nodded slowly, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks.“I’m keeping it,” you whispered. “I saw the heartbeat and I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get rid of it.”Yunjin pulled you into another tight hug, rubbing your back.

“Oh babe I’m here whatever you need. We’ll figure this out together, okay? You’re not alone in this.”

You clung to her, crying quietly into her shoulder again. The relief of finally telling someone, especially your best friend, was overwhelming. But the fear was still there.Because now that Yunjin knew telling Soobin, your parents, and the rest of the world was going to be the next terrifying step.

Yunjin pulled back from the hug but kept her hands on your shoulders, staring at you with wide, teary eyes. She looked like her brain was still trying to catch up with everything you had just told her.“Okay okay, wait,” she said, wiping her own tears. “Let me process this. You’re pregnant. With Heeseung’s baby. And you’re keeping it.”You nodded, sniffling.Yunjin took a deep breath, then launched into full best friend interrogation mode. “Is he taking care of you? Like, actually taking care of you? Or is he being his usual asshole self and making this all about him?” You shook your head slowly.

“He’s been really good, actually,” you said quietly. “He’s been showing up without me asking. He brings me food that doesn’t make me throw up ginger tea, plain porridge, light stuff like that. He checks on me every day. He even skipped basketball practice to take me to the clinic. And when I was crying in the doctor’s room he held me and he cried too.”Yunjin stared at you, completely stunned. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

“…Heeseung? Lee Heeseung? The loud party guy who used to piss you off on purpose?” She looked genuinely shocked. “You’re telling me he’s been nice? Supportive?”You nodded again, a small, tired smile tugging at your lips. “He wanted to keep the baby,” you added softly. “When I told him I was thinking about terminating, he said he supported whatever I decided. But he also said he would be there for me and the baby no matter what.”Yunjin leaned back against the headboard, looking completely floored.

“I… I don’t even know what to say. That’s not the Heeseung I know. I thought he was going to be a total dick about this.”

You let out a watery laugh. “Me too but he’s been really different.” Yunjin was quiet for a moment, processing everything. Then, suddenly, her entire expression shifted. The shock melted away into pure excitement. Her eyes lit up as she grabbed your hands again. “Oh my god,” she squealed, voice rising. “We need to come up with a nickname for your baby! Right now!” You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden mood shift, but her energy was contagious. A small, genuine laugh escaped you.

“Already?” you asked, wiping your tears. “Yes! We have to!” Yunjin grinned, scooting closer. “Okay, okay what about ummm Bean? Because they’re bean sized right now!”You wrinkled your nose. “Too basic.”

“Peanut?”

“Even more basic.”

Yunjin tapped her chin dramatically. “Hmm what about Sprout? Little Sprout!”You giggled. “That’s kind of cute.” “Or or Bubbles!” You both laughed, the tension in the room slowly easing as you brainstormed together.Then Yunjin gasped. “Wait what about Bambi?”You paused. “Bambi?” you repeated, testing the name. A soft smile spread across your face. “Like the deer?” “Yes! Because they’re tiny and cute and probably really gentle and soft Bambi.” Yunjin bounced a little on the bed. “Eeek, I love it!” You looked down at your stomach, gently placing a hand over it.

“Bambi…” you whispered. The name felt warm. gentle and right.You looked back at Yunjin, tears still in your eyes but now mixed with a small, hopeful smile.

“I think I really like Bambi.”Yunjin squealed again and pulled you into another tight hug.“Bambi it is! Our little Bambi.”For the first time in weeks, you felt something other than fear and anxiety.You felt a spark of hope. And even though everything was still terrifying and complicated at least now you had Yunjin by your side and a little nickname for the tiny life growing inside you.

After the initial shock and tears settled, you and Yunjin barely touched your books.The notebooks and highlighters lay forgotten on the table while Yunjin sat cross legged on your bed, eyes sparkling with excitement. She was fully in planning mode, talking a mile a minute as she gestured wildly with her hands.

“Okay, first things first I’m calling dibs on being the godmother,” she declared dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “I’m going to spoil this baby so much. They’re going to love me more than you.” You let out a soft laugh, wiping the last of your tears. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious!” she grinned. “And I’m team girl all the way. It’s definitely a girl. I can feel it. She’s going to be so cute, with your eyes and maybe Heeseung’s stupidly good hair. We’re going to dress her in tiny dresses and put little bows in her hair—” You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “I don’t know I feel in my gut that it’s a boy.” Yunjin gasped, looking personally offended. “A boy?! No way this baby is a girl. I refuse to accept anything else.” You both laughed, but it quickly turned into a tiny, playful argument.

“You’re just saying that because you want to buy cute dresses,” you teased. “And you’re saying boy because you want a mini Heeseung running around,” she shot back, poking your arm. The lighthearted bickering felt normal, even. For a few minutes, the heavy weight of your secret lifted, replaced by giggles and Yunjin’s dramatic declarations. Eventually, she leaned back against the headboard, looking thoughtful. “I’m going to be in charge of the baby shower,” she announced. “And the gender reveal. And the nursery theme. All of it. You don’t even have to lift a finger.”

You smiled softly, but then your expression turned serious. “Yunjin nobody can know yet,” you said quietly. “Not Soobin, not my parents, not anyone. Not about the pregnancy and not about me and Heeseung att least not right now.” Yunjin nodded, understanding immediately. “Of course. I won’t say a word.” You continued, “Maybe in a month or two, we’ll start publicly ‘flaunting’ the relationship to make it look real but right now we need to keep things quiet.” “Got it,” she said, squeezing your hand. “We’ll take it slow. One step at a time.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. Yunjin stayed the night, just like old times. You both changed into pajamas, turned on a comfort movie in the background, and talked for hours about baby names, nursery ideas, how you were feeling, and how Heeseung had been acting. She listened without judgment, only offering support and the occasional teasing remark. Later that night, while Yunjin was brushing her teeth in the bathroom, you picked up your phone and sent Heeseung a message.

You : Yunjin found out about the pregnancy tonight. She kind of discovered the ultrasound picture on her own. She’s staying over right now. We also came up with a nickname for the baby Bambi >.<

You stared at the message for a moment before sending it. A few minutes later, Heeseung replied.

Heeseung : Bambi? I like it

Heeseung : How did she take it? Are you okay?

You smiled faintly at his concern.

You : She took it surprisingly well she’s excited cried a lot. Declared herself godmother already and yes I’m okay just tired

Heeseung : Good tell her I said hi and get some rest. I’ll bring breakfast tomorrow morning

You put your phone down and looked over at Yunjin, who was now sprawled on the other side of your bed, already half asleep. For the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel completely alone in this. You still had a long way to go telling Soobin, telling your parents, figuring out how to navigate this fake relationship with Heeseung, and actually becoming a mother.

But tonight, with your best friend beside you and a tiny nickname for your baby, things felt just a little bit lighter.

The next morning, you and Yunjin were still half asleep when there was a soft knock on your door.

Yunjin groaned dramatically from her side of the bed, burying her face deeper into the pillow. “If that’s Heeseung, tell him I’m interrogating him before I let him leave.” You smiled tiredly and dragged yourself out of bed, still in your oversized sleep shirt. When you opened the door, Heeseung was standing there holding two large paper bags and a tray with drinks.

“Morning,” he said softly, his voice gentle. “I brought breakfast for both of you. Figured Yunjin might be hungry too.”

He stepped inside after you let him in. The smell of warm food, mild porridge, fresh fruit, and ginger tea filled the apartment without being overwhelming. Yunjin sat up in bed, hair messy, eyes narrowing the second she saw him. “Oh, perfect timing,” she said, suddenly wide awake. She crossed her arms like a judge about to deliver a verdict. “Sit down, Lee Heeseung. I have questions.” Heeseung didn’t even look surprised. He set the bags on the small table and pulled up a chair, calm and composed. “Ask away,” he said simply. Yunjin didn’t waste a second.

“Are you actually taking care of her or are you just playing nice because she’s pregnant?” “I’m taking care of her,” he answered steadily. “Every day. I bring food she can keep down, I check on her nausea, I make sure she’s resting. I was with her at the clinic yesterday.”

Yunjin narrowed her eyes. “And you’re not being an asshole to her behind closed doors?” Heeseung shook his head. “No I'm not. I know how I used to act but things are different now.” She fired off more questions, one after another.

He answered every single one patiently about how he was adjusting his practice schedule, how he was handling the pregnancy emotionally, whether he was pressuring you about anything. He never got defensive. He just answered honestly and quietly.

After nearly ten minutes of intense questioning, Yunjin finally leaned back, looking slightly impressed.

“…Okay. You’re not as much of an asshole as I thought,” she muttered. Heeseung gave a small, tired smile. “High praise.”

Before he left, he turned to you. His expression softened as he stepped closer. He gently cupped the side of your face and leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be telling my coach and close friends about us and Bambi today,” he murmured against your skin. “Just so you know.”

Your heart melted into a puddle at the gentle gesture. The warmth of his lips on your forehead sent a flutter through your chest. This wasn’t the first time he had done this.

You remembered the night a week ago when the anxiety had hit you particularly hard. You had been crying uncontrollably, overwhelmed by fear and hormones. Heeseung had shown up without being asked, held you close on the couch, rubbed your back, and kissed your forehead repeatedly while whispering that everything would be okay until you finally fell asleep in his arms. The memory made your cheeks warm. Heeseung pulled back, gave you one last soft look, and quietly left the apartment.

The second the door closed, Yunjin let out a high pitched squeal and flopped back onto your bed.

“OH MY GODDDD!” she screamed into a pillow. “That was so sweet! The forehead kiss?! The ‘Bambi’?! I’m actually going to throw up from how cute that was. Heeseung?? Doing all of this?? I’m in shock.” You sat down on the edge of the bed, still feeling the ghost of his kiss on your forehead. Your heart was doing strange, fluttery things you weren’t ready to examine too closely.

Yunjin sat up again, grinning widely. “Okay, I take back half the things I said about him. He might actually be good for you and for Bambi.” You didn’t reply. You just smiled softly, fingers brushing over the spot he had kissed. For the first time, the future didn’t feel quite as terrifying. Even if everything was still complicated, Heeseung was proving, day by day, that he wasn’t going to run away from this and neither were you.

ꪆ୧ heeseung’s pov ─── ドラマ.

The day you decided to keep the baby, Heeseung felt something he had never experienced before.

It wasn’t just happiness. It was bigger than that overwhelming, almost frightening in its intensity. When you broke down in the doctor’s room and sobbed that you couldn’t go through with the termination, that you wanted to keep the baby, something inside him cracked open and flooded with warmth. He was over the moon. That same evening, after you had both returned to your apartment and the dust had settled a little, the words had slipped out of him before he could stop them.

“Marry me.”He had meant it. In that moment, with the image of that tiny heartbeat still fresh in his mind, he wanted nothing more than to do this properly to stand by you, to give the baby a real family, to prove he could be more than the guy you used to hate.

But you had laughed at first, then looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. You told him marriage wasn’t something you did just because of a baby. You said it needed trust, love, and knowing each other things you didn’t have.The rejection stung more than he wanted to admit. It hurt.

Not because he was arrogant enough to think you’d say yes immediately, but because for a brief moment, he had let himself imagine a future where you chose him too. Where this wasn’t just about responsibility, but something real.Still, he respected your decision. He couldn’t force you to love him. He couldn’t force you to marry him. He wouldn’t do that to you, and he refused to do that to himself either. That night, after he left your apartment, Heeseung couldn’t sleep. He sat on his couch in the dark for hours, staring at the wall that separated his place from yours. Then he opened his laptop and started researching.

He read everything. Early pregnancy symptoms morning sickness management prenatal vitamins. What foods to avoid. How the baby developed week by week emotional changes postpartum care. He spent hours going down rabbit holes articles, medical websites, forums where parents shared their experiences. When the sun started to rise, he moved on to parenting books. He ordered nearly twenty of them in one go everything from What to Expect When You’re Expecting to guides on co parenting, single parenting, and building healthy relationships after unexpected pregnancies. He even bought books on newborn care, baby sleep schedules, and how to support a partner through pregnancy.

By the time he finally closed his laptop, the sky was bright. He leaned back on the couch, rubbing his tired eyes. His mind was racing with information, but beneath all the facts and statistics was one clear, undeniable feeling he already loved this baby. More than he thought was possible in such a short time.

Even if you never loved him back, even if you never wanted to marry him, even if this ended up being the most complicated co-parenting situation in the world he was going to be there.

He was going to be a good father.

He refused to be anything less.

Heeseung glanced at the wall again, wondering if you were awake yet. He thought about texting you, but decided against it. You needed rest. Instead, he whispered to the empty room, voice rough from lack of sleep “I’ve got you both.” And for the first time in a long time, despite the pressure from his father, despite the uncertainty of his basketball career, despite the complicated feelings he had for you, Heeseung felt a quiet sense of purpose settle over him. This baby was going to change everything and he was ready.

Ever since the day you decided to keep the baby, Heeseung had been living in a state of quiet, overwhelming happiness. It wasn’t the loud, flashy kind of joy he was used to winning games, hearing the crowd cheer his name, or the temporary high from parties. This was deeper steadier. It settled in his chest like a warm light that never quite dimmed, even on his hardest days. He had no idea where he was finding the time, but somehow he was doing everything.

He woke up earlier than usual now, going for runs before practice, then pushing himself twice as hard during training sessions. His shots were cleaner, his focus sharper, his stamina noticeably better. Coach had even pulled him aside last week and said, “Whatever fire you’ve got under you lately keep it going.” Heeseung just smiled and kept working.

In the evenings, after practice, he studied harder than he ever had. He reviewed game footage, worked on assignments, and still found time to cook for you.

Simple, gentle meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach ginger porridge, steamed fish with mild seasoning, fresh fruit, warm soups. He enjoyed it. The rhythm of chopping vegetables, stirring pots, plating everything carefully it grounded him. But what made him happiest wasn’t just the baby it was you. You were slowly opening up to him.

What used to be nothing but sharp arguments and cold avoidance had turned into real conversations. Some nights he would cook in your kitchen while you sat on the counter or at the small table, watching him. You’d talk about your capstone project, about the art exhibitions you dreamed of curating one day.

Sometimes you’d ask him about basketball, about his dreams of going pro. He would catch himself smiling for no reason while stirring the pot, just because you were there, talking to him like he wasn’t the guy you used to hate. He often found himself thinking about you even when he wasn’t trying to.Did she eat today?

Is the nausea better this morning?Did she remember to take her vitamins?What is she doing right now?

These thoughts would sneak up on him during practice, during lectures, even late at night.

And instead of feeling annoyed by how much space you took up in his mind, he felt warm and content.

His friends and coach had started noticing the change too. During one practice, Jake had jogged up to him during a water break, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“Dude, you’ve been weirdly chill lately,” Jake said, grinning. “No more wild parties. You barely hang out with us after practice anymore. What’s going on? You got a secret girlfriend or something?” Heeseung just shrugged with a small smile. “Just focused.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “Focused? You look like you’re glowing, man. It’s creepy.” Even Coach had commented once, “Lee, you’ve been showing up with better energy lately. Whatever you’re doing outside of here keep doing it.” Heeseung didn’t tell them the truth yet. Not fully. He had quietly told his closest friends and coach that he was seeing someone seriously and that things were complicated, but good. He left out the pregnancy part for now. That was something you both needed to navigate together first.

His partying had almost completely stopped. The loud nights, the random girls, the chaos it all felt pointless now. He preferred quiet evenings cooking for you, or sitting on your couch while you rested your head on his shoulder, too tired to talk but not wanting to be alone. He was happier than he had ever been.

Even on days when the pressure from his father weighed on him, even when he worried about the future and how he was going to balance basketball, fatherhood, and whatever this was with you he was still happy.

Because for the first time in his life, Heeseung felt like he had something that truly mattered. Something worth working hard for. Something worth becoming better for.And that something was you and the tiny life growing inside you. Heeseung had no real reason to be near the Arts Building that afternoon. Practice had ended early, and he told himself he was just going for a walk to clear his head. When Sunghoon asked where he was headed, Heeseung casually mentioned something about needing to ask Sunghoon about a shared assignment. It was a weak excuse, but Sunghoon didn’t question it.

Deep down, Heeseung knew the truth. He wanted to see you. He didn’t fully understand why. Maybe it was the way you had started smiling at him more often when he brought you dinner. Maybe it was the quiet nights where you let him stay over on your couch. Or maybe it was the tiny life growing inside you that made him feel inexplicably drawn to you. Whatever it was, he found himself walking toward the Arts Building, hands in his pockets, pretending it was completely normal.

They were halfway there when he spotted you. You were walking out of the main entrance with Yunjin and Soobin, laughing at something Yunjin was saying. The late afternoon sunlight caught your face perfectly your warm brown eyes sparkling with amusement, the natural soft pink flush on your cheeks, the way your hair moved as you tilted your head back in laughter. Heeseung stopped in his tracks. God… were you always this pretty? He couldn’t look away. The carefree smile on your face, the lightness in your step, the way you looked so alive and bright despite everything you were going throughit hit him square in the chest.

For a moment, the entire campus faded into background noise. It was just you. Sunghoon walked a few steps ahead before realizing Heeseung had stopped. He turned around, eyebrows raised. “Yo, what are you—” Sunghoon followed Heeseung’s gaze and smirked. “Oh? Staring at someone?” Heeseung blinked, snapping out of it. “What? No.” Sunghoon’s smirk widened. “Sure you were practically frozen. Who is she?” Heeseung quickly looked away and grabbed Sunghoon’s arm, dragging him in the opposite direction. “No one let’s go. I don’t even know why I came this way.”

Sunghoon laughed, letting himself be pulled along but still glancing back curiously. “Alright, whatever you say. But you were definitely staring.” Heeseung didn’t reply. He just kept walking, ears slightly warm.

His heart was still beating faster than usual.

He had no idea when you had gone from being the annoying neighbor he loved to tease to someone whose laugh made him stop dead in his tracks like an idiot. But one thing was becoming clearer every single day he was falling for you and he had no idea what to do with that.

Heeseung had always been honest with himself about one thing girls had never meant much to him beyond a night of fun. It was never emotional, never deep. To him, it was all about sex, release, and moving on the next day. No strings, no feelings, no complications. That was how he liked it, simple and easy. But you you were different. From the very beginning, even when you were banging on his door calling him an asshole, something about you had gotten under his skin in a way no one else ever had. And now, after the pregnancy, after seeing that tiny heartbeat, after holding you while you cried he realized it wasn’t just about the baby.

It was about you. He cared about you. Not because you were carrying his child, but because it was you. The girl who didn’t care about his status, who called him out without hesitation, who had dreams bigger than campus popularity. He loved how different you were from the other girls how real, how stubborn, how unapologetically yourself. It might have sounded cliché as hell, but it was the truth. He was falling for you hard.

That evening, when you texted him that Yunjin had found out about the pregnancy and that the two of you had come up with a nickname for the baby, Heeseung had been in the middle of cooking.

You : Yunjin found out. We came up with a nickname for the baby Bambi

He had stared at the message for a long time, heart suddenly pounding Bambi.The word hit him like fireworks exploding in his chest. He whispered it under his breath, a soft smile spreading across his face. “Bambi”He loved it. He loved it so much it almost scared him. The image of a tiny, gentle little life, his child being called something so soft and precious made something warm and protective bloom inside him. He was starting to fall not just for the idea of being a father, but for the reality of building something with you.

The next morning, when he had dropped off breakfast and kissed your forehead in front of Yunjin, he had felt his cheeks flush with warmth. The way you had looked at him surprised, soft, a little flustered had done something dangerous to his heart. He had to practically run out of your apartment to hide the stupid smile threatening to break across his face.

He loved kissing your forehead. He loved the quiet nights when he held you close until you fell asleep. He loved pulling you into his arms when you cried because of hormones or fear or exhaustion. He loved being the person you leaned on now.

And the scariest part?He was starting to realize he didn’t just want to be there for the baby.He wanted to be there for you.Even if you didn’t feel the same way yet.Even if you had rejected his impulsive marriage proposal.Even if this whole thing was messy and complicated and terrifying.Heeseung leaned back on his couch that night, staring at the ceiling with a small, private smile Bambi.He whispered the name again, letting it settle in his heart like a promise.He was falling in love with you.And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t running away from it.

That same day, Heeseung made up his mind.

He was going to tell them.Not everything, not the messy parts, not the fact that you two weren’t actually dating yet but the important truths. That he was seeing you. That you were pregnant. That this baby was his.He arrived at practice with a strange mix of nerves and resolve settled in his chest. For once, his mind wasn’t entirely on basketball. Every drill, every sprint, every shot he took felt secondary to the conversation he knew was coming afterward.

Practice went surprisingly well. His focus was sharp, his movements clean. He pushed himself harder than usual, and it showed. Coach noticed, giving him an approving nod at the end but saying nothing more.

When practice finally ended and most of the team started heading toward the lockers, Heeseung raised his voice.

“Coach guys can you stay back for a minute? I need to talk to you.”The group Coach, Jake, Jay, Beomgyu, and a couple of other close teammates exchanged curious glances but stayed. They gathered near the benches, wiping sweat from their faces, water bottles in hand.

Heeseung stood in front of them, heart pounding harder than it had during any game. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly unsure how to start.

“I… uh, I’ve been seeing someone,” he began. His voice was steady, but his hands were clenched at his sides. “It’s serious. And she’s pregnant.”The silence that followed was deafening.Jake’s water bottle froze halfway to his mouth. Jay’s eyebrows shot up. Beomgyu’s mouth fell open.Coach was the first to speak, voice low and serious. “Pregnant?”Heeseung nodded. “Yeah two months along. It wasn’t planned but we’re keeping the baby.”Beomgyu let out a stunned laugh. “Holy shit, Heeseung. You’re going to be a dad?”

Jake stepped forward, eyes wide. “Wait who is she? Do we know her?”Heeseung hesitated for half a second, then said it.“It’s the girl next door. The one who used to hate me. We had a thing after Sunghoon’s party. And now she’s pregnant with my child.”The reaction was immediate.Jay looked like he was buffering. “You’re telling me you got the one girl who couldn’t stand you pregnant?” Beomgyu grinned, still in disbelief. “This is insane. The girl who used to bang on your door? That girl?”

Heeseung let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Yeah that one.”Coach crossed his arms, studying him carefully. “And you’re sure about this? Keeping the baby?”“I’m sure,” Heeseung said without hesitation. His voice softened. “I saw the heartbeat. It’s real I want this. I’m going to take care of both of them.”The group was quiet for a moment, processing.Then Jake broke into a wide grin and pulled Heeseung into a rough hug. “Damn, man, congratulations. This is wild, butI’m happy for you.”

One by one, the others followed clapping him on the back, offering stunned but genuine congratulations. Even the coach gave him a firm nod and a pat on the shoulder.

“This is going to change things for you, Lee,” Coach said seriously. “But if you’re committed, we’ll work around it. Your priorities are shifting. That’s part of growing up.”Heeseung nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief now that the truth was out with the people who mattered most on the team.As they finally headed toward the lockers, Beomgyu slung an arm around his shoulders.“So does this mean no more parties?” he teased.Heeseung smiled, small but real.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “No more parties.”Because right now, the only thing that mattered was you and Bambi.And for the first time in his life, Heeseung was completely okay with that.

ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ.

Things were starting to get rough.The pregnancy hormones had fully kicked in, and they were merciless.At two months, your body no longer felt like your own. The nausea had eased slightly, but it was replaced by something far more overwhelming an intense, almost constant wave of desire that left you restless and frustrated.

Your emotions swung wildly from one extreme to another. One moment you were crying over a soft song, the next you were irritable for no reason. But the worst part was the arousal.It was relentless.You’d wake up in the middle of the night flushed and aching, thighs pressed together, body throbbing with a need you couldn’t ignore.

During the day, innocent things would set you off the low timbre of Heeseung’s voice when he brought you breakfast, the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders when he cooked, even the faint scent of his cologne drifting through the wall between your apartments. Your breasts were tender and hypersensitive, brushing against fabric made you bite your lip to hold back a whimper.

You tried to take care of it yourself.Late at night, when Yunjin wasn’t staying over and the apartment was quiet, you’d slip your hand between your legs, desperate for relief. But no matter how much you touched yourself, slow circles, faster strokes, even bringing out the small vibrator you rarely used wasn't enough. The orgasms felt shallow, unsatisfying, leaving you even more wound up than before. Your body craved something deeper, something fuller.

Something only another person could give.And the worst part? That person was right next door.

Heeseung. The same Heeseung who had been nothing but gentle and attentive these past weeks. The one who kissed your forehead, held you when you cried, cooked meals that didn’t make you sick. The one whose quiet care was slowly chipping away at the walls you’d built around yourself.You hated how much you wanted him.

You’d lie in bed at night, hand between your thighs, imagining his hands instead his long fingers, his mouth, the way he had touched you that one reckless night. The memory of him inside you, deep and thick, made you moan softly into your pillow as you tried (and failed) to find release.It was getting harder to hide.Your cheeks would flush randomly during conversations with Yunjin. You’d press your thighs together during lectures when a sudden wave of heat hit you.

You found yourself staring at Heeseung’s hands when he brought you food, wondering how they would feel on your skin again. You felt embarrassed, guilty and horny beyond reason.And you had no idea how much longer you could keep pretending everything was fine.

A month had passed since you told your parents.

They had flown in to visit you after you finally gathered the courage to break the news over a video call. The moment you told them you were pregnant and that you were dating Heeseung the reaction was everything you had hoped for but still left you emotional.

Your mom had gasped, then immediately started crying happy tears. Your dad he had gone completely silent for almost ten seconds before his eyes welled up. He shed so many tears that day, pulling you into the tightest hug when they arrived, whispering how proud he was of you and how excited he was to become a grandfather. They both adored Heeseung from the first meeting your dad even clapped him on the back and said, “Take care of my daughter and my grandbaby, son.” The support from them had been overwhelming in the best way.

Now, today was the day. Heeseung’s basketball match is your first public appearance as his (fake) girlfriend in front of everyone.You were three months along. Your belly had started to show a soft, consistent bloat that made your clothes fit differently. You couldn’t hide it completely anymore, but it still looked like normal bloating to most people. Only you, Heeseung, Yunjin, Soobin, and your parents knew the truth.

Heeseung had left early in the morning. As captain, he needed to be with the team for warm ups and strategy meetings. Before he left, he had gently placed his spare jersey in your hands, the one with “LEE 7” printed on the back. “Wear this,” he had said softly, kissing your forehead. “You don’t have to worry about anything today. Just enjoy the game. I’ve got you.” You were nervous as hell. You stood in front of your mirror, adjusting the oversized jersey. It was big on you, falling mid-thigh, but it felt comforting.

You paired it with leggings and a light jacket to hide the slight curve of your belly. Yunjin and Soobin were already waiting for you downstairs.When you finally met them outside, Yunjin squealed at the sight of you in Heeseung’s jersey.“Oh my god, look at you! His girlfriend era is so real,” she teased, linking her arm with yours. Soobin smiled warmly, though his eyes still held that protective worry he’d had ever since you told him the truth two weeks ago. “You look good,” Soobin said gently. “Ready?”You nodded, even though your stomach was doing flips.

The arena was packed when you arrived. The energy was electric cheers, music, the sound of basketballs bouncing during warm ups. The moment you walked in with Yunjin and Soobin, a few heads turned. People whispered. Someone pointed. You kept your head slightly down, heart racing, but Yunjin squeezed your arm reassuringly.

The three of you found seats close to the court, right behind the home team’s bench. As soon as you sat down, the players started coming out for the national anthem. Your eyes immediately found Heeseung.

He looked focused, tall and confident in his uniform. But the second his gaze landed on you wearing his jersey, his expression softened. A small, private smile tugged at his lips. He gave you a subtle nod before turning back to his team.

The game started, and the crowd went wild.

You tried to focus on the match, but your nerves were through the roof. Every time Heeseung made a play, your heart jumped. Every time the crowd cheered his name, you felt a strange mix of pride and anxiety. Yunjin was screaming her lungs out, Soobin was calmly explaining plays to you, but your mind kept drifting.This was real now.You were here as Heeseung’s girlfriend at least in everyone’s eyes.

And you were carrying his baby.During a timeout, Heeseung jogged over to the sidelines.

He looked up at you again, his eyes warm even from a distance. He mouthed “You okay?” and you gave him a small nod and a thumbs up. He smiled that soft, real smile he only seemed to give you these days before jogging back to his team. Yunjin nudged you with her elbow, grinning. “He’s whipped,” she whispered. “Look at him checking on you during the game.”

You didn’t reply. You just squeezed the star shaped squishy toy in your pocket and tried to calm your racing heart.

The game continued, loud and fast paced, but your mind was somewhere else entirely on the tiny life growing inside you, on the boy on the court who was trying so hard to be there for you, and on how complicated and scary and strangely hopeful everything felt right now. The final buzzer sounded, and the entire arena erupted.

Your university team had won by a solid 12 points. The crowd was on their feet, cheering wildly as the players celebrated on the court. Heeseung was right in the middle of it all, smiling wide, laughing with his teammates, hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead. He looked so happy. So alive. So incredibly cool as he high-fived his teammates and lifted the game ball in victory. You couldn’t stop staring.

Even from the stands, you could see the pure joy on his face. For a moment, all the complications between you two faded, and you just felt proud. Proud of him.

After the celebrations on the court died down a little, Heeseung jogged over to the sidelines where you, Yunjin, and Soobin were waiting. Without hesitation, he pulled you into a warm, sweaty hug right there in front of everyone.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, one hand gently pressing against your lower back. The crowd around you cheered louder at the sight. Cameras flashed. Whispers turned into audible gasps.

Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you, then leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering peck on your cheek.“You did great,” you whispered, still a little dazed by the public affection. He smiled, that soft, private smile he only seemed to give you these days.

“I’ll be back with the team in a bit we have to do the post game stuff,” he said, voice low so only you could hear. “Go home with Soobin and Yunjin, okay? I’ll text you when I’m heading back.”

You nodded, cheeks burning. “Okay.” He gave your hand one last gentle squeeze before jogging back toward his teammates. You stood there, heart racing, as Yunjin squealed beside you and Soobin gave you a knowing look. The walk back to the apartment with your friends felt surreal. People were still staring, whispering, taking photos. But your mind wasn’t on them.It was on him. Why are you blushing? you thought, pressing your cool hands to your warm cheeks as you walked. It was just a hug. Just a peck on the cheek. It’s all fake anyway.

But your body didn’t seem to care that it was fake.

A familiar heat had pooled low in your belly. Your pussy clenched involuntarily at the memory of his arms around you, his breath against your cheek, the way his jersey had clung to his broad shoulders and back while he played. The pregnancy hormones were ruthless these days. They turned every innocent touch, every look, every small act of care into something filthy in your mind. You pressed your thighs together as you walked, trying to ignore the growing ache between your legs.

Why did everything Heeseung did suddenly feel so hot? The way he had looked at you after the win, the way he had hugged you so publicly, the way he had kissed your cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world you were horny.Embarrassingly, desperately horny.And it was getting harder and harder to pretend you weren’t affected by him.

When you finally got back to your apartment, you thanked Soobin and Yunjin for coming with you. Yunjin hugged you tightly before leaving, whispering, “Text me if you need anything, baby mama,” with a wink.

Soobin gave you a gentle, concerned smile and reminded you to rest.The moment the door closed, you leaned against it and let out a shaky breath.

Your hand drifted down to rest on your slightly bloated belly three months. You were three months pregnant with Heeseung’s baby and your body was betraying you in the most inconvenient ways possible.

You closed your eyes, remembering the way Heeseung had looked at you after the game, happy, proud, and focused only on you in a crowded arena.

Your pussy clenched again.

“Fuck,” you whispered to the empty apartment, cheeks burning.This was getting dangerous.You couldn’t fight it anymore. The moment you stepped inside your apartment and locked the door, the ache between your legs became unbearable. Pregnancy hormones had turned your body into something foreign hypersensitive, needy, and constantly throbbing. Your breasts felt heavy and swollen, your nipples tight against the fabric of your bra. Your pussy was slick and aching, clenching around nothing.

You didn’t even make it to the bed properly.

You kicked off your shoes, yanked your pants and panties down in one desperate motion, and fell back onto the mattress. Your shirt was pushed up hastily over your breasts. The cool air hit your heated skin as you cupped your swollen tits, squeezing them roughly. A broken moan slipped from your lips when your fingers brushed your sensitive nipples.

“Fuck…” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

One hand stayed on your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple, while the other slid down your stomach and between your thighs.

You were soaked. Your fingers glided easily over your swollen clit, rubbing tight, frantic circles. The relief was immediate but not enough. You pushed two fingers inside yourself, pumping desperately, imagining thicker, longer fingers his fingers.

Your hips bucked against your hand. Soft, needy whimpers filled the room as you fucked yourself faster, thighs trembling. The pressure built quickly, but every time you got close, it slipped away. You needed more. You needed him. You were so lost in it eyes closed, lips parted, fingers thrusting wetly inside your dripping pussy that you didn’t hear the front door open

Heeseung stepped inside quietly, holding the spare key you had given him weeks ago. He had come to check on you after the game, worried you might be tired or nauseous.The sight that greeted him made him freeze in the doorway. You were sprawled on the bed, shirt rucked up, pants around one ankle, legs spread. Your fingers were buried deep inside your glistening pussy, pumping frantically while your other hand squeezed your swollen breast. Your face was flushed with pleasure, lips parted in soft, desperate moans.

Heeseung’s breath caught. His cock hardened instantly in his sweatpants. For a second, it was painfully awkward. He should have left. He should have announced himself.But then your eyes fluttered open and locked onto him.You didn’t stop.Instead, your voice came out hoarse and pleading.“Heeseung… please.” He stepped closer, eyes dark with lust but still careful. “Are you sure?” he asked, voice rough. “You don’t have to—” “Please,” you whimpered, fingers still moving slowly inside yourself. “I can’t I need you. Please help me.” That was all it took.

Heeseung climbed onto the bed, settling between your spread thighs. He gently pulled your hand away, replacing it with his own. Two thick fingers slid into your soaked heat easily, curling perfectly against that spot that made you cry out. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned, pumping his fingers steadily. His thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight circles. “Been thinking about me, baby?” You moaned loudly, hips bucking against his hand. He leaned down, sucking one of your sensitive nipples into his mouth while his fingers fucked you deeper, faster. The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers thrusting into your dripping pussy filled the room.

Heeseung added a third finger, stretching you open, curling them just right. His mouth moved between your breasts, sucking and licking your swollen nipples until you were shaking.“I’m close—” you gasped, fingers threading through his hair. “Come for me,” he murmured against your skin, thumb pressing harder on your clit. Your orgasm crashed over you hard. You cried out, back arching, walls clenching tightly around his fingers as pleasure tore through you. Heeseung kept pumping his fingers through it, drawing out every wave until you were trembling and oversensitive.

But you still weren’t satisfied. You tugged at his shirt desperately. “More please, Heeseung. I need you inside me.” He didn’t hesitate. He pulled his fingers out, quickly stripping off his clothes. His cock sprang free thick, hard, and leaking at the tip. He positioned himself between your thighs, rubbing the head of his cock along your slick folds before slowly pushing in.

You both moaned as he sank deep inside you. He was gentle but firm, filling you completely in one smooth thrust. Heeseung groaned at how tight and wet you were, forehead dropping to yours.

“Fuck you feel so good,” he breathed, starting to move. He fucked you with deep, steady strokes, hips rolling against yours. One hand cradled your slightly bloated belly protectively while the other gripped your thigh, holding you open for him. The wet slap of skin and your mingled moans filled the room.

Heeseung kissed you deeply, tongue sliding against yours as he thrust harder, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every stroke. Your hands roamed his back, nails digging into his skin as another orgasm built fast. “Come again for me,” he whispered against your lips. “Let me feel you.”

You shattered around him with a cry, pussy clenching tightly around his cock. Heeseung groaned, thrusting a few more times before burying himself deep and coming hard inside you, hips jerking as he filled you with hot spurts of cum. He stayed inside you for a long moment, both of you breathing heavily. Then he gently pulled out and collapsed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms. He kissed your forehead, then your temple, holding you close as you came down from the high.

You lay there afterward, breathing hard, body limp and glowing with the aftershocks of pleasure. Heeseung stayed buried inside you for a long moment, forehead pressed against yours, both of you catching your breath. His hand gently stroked your side, thumb brushing over the slight swell of your belly in a protective, almost reverent way.

Eventually, he pulled out slowly, a soft groan leaving his lips as he did. You winced at the sudden emptiness, but Heeseung was already moving, pulling you into his arms and tucking you against his chest.

He kissed your forehead, then your temple, holding you close as your breathing slowly evened out.

Neither of you spoke for a while. The only sounds in the room were your mingled breathing and the faint hum of the air conditioner. Heeseung’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and rough. “…You should’ve told me it was getting this bad,” he murmured. “I would’ve helped sooner.” You buried your face in his neck, cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and lingering arousal. “I didn’t know how to say it. It’s humiliating. I feel like my body isn’t mine anymore.”

Heeseung tightened his arms around you. “It’s not humiliating. You’re pregnant. Your body is changing because of our baby. If you need me for anything just tell me. I’m right here.” You stayed silent, letting his warmth seep into you. The hormones were still humming under your skin, but the sharp edge of desperation had dulled into a comfortable, sated haze. After a few minutes, Heeseung gently pulled back so he could look at you. “You okay?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. You nodded. “Yeah, thank you.”

He smiled that small, genuine smile that made your chest feel strangely tight and kissed your forehead again. “Stay here. I’ll clean you up.” He got up, completely naked and unashamed, and returned moments later with a warm, damp cloth. He wiped you down gently between your legs, then cleaned himself before crawling back into bed and pulling you against his chest once more. You let yourself relax into him, one hand resting on your slightly rounded belly.

For the first time in weeks, the constant ache of need was quiet. But as you lay there in Heeseung’s arms, listening to his steady heartbeat, a new kind of nervousness settled in.

Because the line between “fake” and “real” was starting to blur dangerously fast. He held you close against his chest, one hand stroking soothing circles on your back while the other rested protectively over the small, soft swell of your belly. The room was quiet except for your slowing breaths and the faint hum of the city outside the window. You stayed like that for a while, skin warm and slightly damp, hearts still beating fast. Neither of you felt the need to speak right away. It felt strangely peaceful.

Eventually, Heeseung broke the silence, his voice low and soft against your hair. “I’ve been reading parenting books,” he murmured, fingers tracing lazy, comforting patterns along your spine. “A lot of them. What to Expect When You’re Expecting, guides on newborn care, nutrition during pregnancy everything I could find. I wanted to be prepared. For you and the baby.” You tilted your head up to look at him, genuinely surprised. “Really? You’ve been doing that?”

Heeseung nodded, a small, almost shy smile touching his lips. “Yeah. I’ve been learning about the second trimester, what symptoms might get worse or better, how to support you when the nausea is bad, safe exercises, all of it. I don’t want to be clueless. I want to do this right.”

You felt a warm flutter in your chest. You hadn’t expected him to take it this seriously. Before you could respond, he continued gently, "And if you ever have any needs physical, emotional, anything at all I’ll always be there for you. Whether it’s holding you when you’re anxious, helping with the nausea, or anything else. Just tell me. Only if it’s okay with you, of course.” You hesitated for a second, then whispered, “Will that be okay with you? Because we aren’t really a couple.” Heeseung was quiet for a moment, then pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“It’s okay with me,” he said simply. “I know we’re not traditional. But I care about you. And I care about our baby. So whatever you need, I’m here with no pressure , no expectations. Just me, showing up for both of you.” The sincerity in his voice made your eyes sting with tears. You buried your face in his neck, nodding against his skin. The conversation flowed easily after that quiet, honest, and surprisingly comfortable. You told him about your fears of balancing university with pregnancy, how scared you were about telling more people, and how overwhelmed you sometimes felt by the changes in your body.

Heeseung listened without interrupting, rubbing your back the whole time. He shared his own worries too the pressure from his father, his fears about balancing basketball and fatherhood, and how he sometimes felt unprepared but determined to try his best.

Eventually, the talking slowed. Heeseung shifted lower on the bed, resting his cheek gently against your bare belly. He looked up at you with soft, questioning eyes. “Can I talk to the baby?” he asked quietly. “If that’s okay with you.” Your throat tightened with emotion. You nodded.

Heeseung smiled faintly and pressed a soft kiss to the small swell of your stomach. Then, in a low, gentle voice, he spoke “Hey, Bambi it’s me your dad. I know things are a little complicated right now, but I want you to know I’m really happy you’re here. I’m going to take care of you and your mom, okay? We’ve got you. Both of us.” You felt tears slip down your cheeks as you watched him. Heeseung stayed there for a while, murmuring soft promises and little stories to your belly, his hand resting protectively over it.

When he finally crawled back up, he pulled you into his arms again, skin to skin, warm and safe. You tucked your face against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. You both fell asleep like that completely naked, wrapped around each other, his hand resting protectively over your stomach where Bambi was growing. For the first time in a long while, the future didn’t feel quite so terrifying.

The next morning, you woke up slowly, blinking against the soft sunlight filtering through your curtains. Your body felt heavy in that familiar, exhausted way the pregnancy making even sleep feel like it wasn’t quite enough. You reached out instinctively to the other side of the bed, expecting warmth, expecting Heeseung’s arm around you like it had been when you fell asleep. But the bed was empty. The sheets where he had lain were cool. He must have left a while ago.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes, and noticed a small yellow post it note stuck to the lamp on your nightstand. You reached for it, heart giving a little flutter as you read his neat handwriting

“Made breakfast for you. It’s in the fridge mild porridge with ginger and some fruit. Please eat it before you go to classes. Had some early work with the team, had to leave. Text me when you wake up. Take care of yourself and Bambi today. - Heeseung”

You stared at the note for a long moment, thumb brushing over his name. A strange mix of emotions washed over you warmth, gratitude, and that familiar flutter of confusion in your chest. He had cooked for you again, even though he had practice. Even though he left early. Even though he didn’t have to. You placed the post-it carefully on the nightstand and got out of bed. Your hand instinctively moved to rest on your slightly bloated belly as you walked to the kitchen. True to his word, there was a container in the fridge with perfectly portioned porridge and fresh-cut fruit on the side. A small bottle of ginger tea sat beside it.

You heated the porridge and sat at your small table, eating slowly. The food was gentle on your stomach, exactly what you needed. As you ate, your mind replayed the events of last night the way Heeseung had held you, the way he had talked to your belly, the quiet honesty between you two.It was getting harder to remember that this was all supposed to be fake.

Your phone buzzed on the table. A message from Heeseung.

Heeseung : Did you wake up? Did you eat?

You smiled faintly and replied.

You : Just woke up eating breakfast now thank you

Heeseung : Good let me know how you’re feeling today. I’ll try to finish early so I can bring dinner

You put your phone down and continued eating, one hand still resting on your belly. The reality of your situation felt heavier every day. You were three months pregnant. You were pretending to date the guy you used to hate. You were slowly letting him into your life in ways you never expected. And yet it didn’t feel as terrifying as it once did. After finishing breakfast, you got ready for classes, loose clothes to hide the small curve of your belly, comfortable shoes, and your usual hoodie. Before leaving, you glanced at the post-it note again, then carefully folded it and tucked it into your bag.

As you locked your apartment door, you couldn’t help but think about how much had changed in such a short time. Heeseung was becoming someone you relied on. And you weren’t sure how you felt about that yet.

Heeseung woke up slowly, warmth surrounding him. You were still asleep in his arms, face tucked against his chest, one hand resting lightly on his stomach. Your breathing was soft and even, your body relaxed against his in a way that made his heart feel too big for his chest. The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over your face. He smiled a small, private, uncontrollably happy smile.

He was so happy.

Waking up like this, with you curled into him, knowing there was a tiny life growing between you it felt like something he didn’t deserve but would fight to keep. For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel like pressure. It felt like hope. His phone vibrated on the nightstand. Heeseung’s smile faded slightly when he saw the caller ID Dad.

He carefully slipped his arm from under you, moving slowly so he wouldn’t wake you. You stirred a little but settled back into the pillow with a soft sigh. Heeseung watched you for a second longer, heart clenching with affection, before he grabbed his phone and quietly left the room, closing the bedroom door behind him.He answered the call in the living room, voice low.“Hey, Dad.” Instead of a greeting, his father’s sharp voice cut through immediately.

“So it’s true? You have a girlfriend now? And you’re wasting your time on her instead of focusing on the league?” Heeseung’s jaw tightened. He leaned against the kitchen counter, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m serious about her, Dad,” he said, voice steady but firm. “I want to marry her.” A harsh scoff came through the line. “Marry her? You don’t think about getting into the league, about your future, about everything I’ve sacrificed for you but you think about marriage? With some girl who’s probably just using you for your name?”

Heeseung stayed silent for a moment, letting the familiar sting of his father’s words wash over him. He didn’t argue. He knew it was pointless. His dad continued, tone cold and commanding. “I want to meet her and bring her for Thanksgiving. We’ll see what kind of girl managed to distract you this badly.”

Heeseung exhaled slowly. “Sure. I’ll bring her.” The line went dead without another word.

Heeseung lowered the phone, staring at the black screen for a long moment. The happiness he had felt waking up with you in his arms was still there, but now it was shadowed by the familiar weight of his father’s expectations. He walked back to the bedroom quietly and stood in the doorway for a while, watching you sleep. Your hand had moved to rest on your belly in your sleep a small, protective gesture that made his chest ache with tenderness. Heeseung smiled softly despite everything. Thanksgiving was going to be complicated. But for you and Bambi he would face it he always would.

A few days had passed since that emotional night.

Your life had slowly started to find a strange new rhythm. Mornings often began with Heeseung’s quiet knocks or a text asking how you slept. He still brought you breakfast on most days, always something gentle on your stomach. The nausea was still present but no longer as violent. Your belly had grown just a little more noticeable, a soft curve that you hid under oversized hoodies and loose sweaters.

Today was your checkup. You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the oversized sweater over your belly.

Three months and a few days. The doctor had said everything looked good at the last visit, but you were still nervous every time. You gently placed a hand over your stomach, feeling the slight firmness there.

Bambi. The nickname made you smile despite the nerves. Your phone buzzed on the counter.

Heeseung : I’m outside ready when you are no rush

You took a deep breath, grabbed your bag, and headed downstairs. Heeseung was waiting by his car, leaning against the door in a casual black hoodie and jeans. The moment he saw you, his expression softened into that small, genuine smile he seemed to reserve only for you lately. “Hey,” he said, opening the passenger door for you. “How are you feeling today?”

“Better than yesterday,” you replied, sliding in. “Still a little nauseous in the mornings, but not as bad.”

Heeseung nodded, closing the door gently before getting into the driver’s seat. The drive to the clinic was quiet but comfortable. He asked about your classes, about whether the fatigue had eased, and told you a light story about Beomgyu messing up a drill during practice. You found yourself smiling more than you expected.

A few days later, you had your regular checkup.

Dr. Kim was as kind and patient as always. She did a quick scan, confirmed that everything was progressing normally, and then smiled warmly at both of you. “Everything looks great. The baby is growing well. At your next appointment, around the four month mark, we should be able to determine the gender if you’d like to know. Would you be interested in finding out?” You glanced at Heeseung. He looked at you with soft eyes, waiting for your decision.

You nodded slowly. “Yes I think I’d like to know.”

Heeseung’s hand gently squeezed yours. Dr. Kim smiled and scheduled the next appointment before sending you off with more prenatal vitamins and advice on managing fatigue. After leaving the clinic, Heeseung turned to you in the car. “There’s a movie showing that looked pretty light, not too intense want to go? Just the two of us.” You agreed. The theatre was dimly lit and not very crowded. You chose seats near the back, a little more private. Heeseung bought snacks you could handle plain popcorn and ginger ale and settled in beside you.

The movie started, but your mind was elsewhere.

The pregnancy hormones had been relentless lately. Your body felt hypersensitive. Every brush of his arm against yours, every time his thigh pressed against yours in the seat, sent heat pooling low in your belly. You tried to focus on the screen, but your eyes kept drifting to him the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hand rested on his thigh, the subtle scent of his cologne. You couldn’t fight it. Halfway through the movie, when the theatre was dark and quiet, you leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“Heeseung…” He turned his head slightly. “Yeah?”

Instead of answering with words, you reached over and slowly slid your hand onto his thigh. He tensed, but didn’t stop you. Your fingers moved higher, palming him through his jeans. He was already half hard. His breath hitched. “Baby what are you doing?”

You didn’t answer. You quietly unzipped his jeans, reached inside, and pulled his cock out. He was thick and warm in your hand. You stroked him slowly at first, feeling him harden fully under your touch.

Heeseung’s hand gripped the armrest. “Fuck are you sure?”

You nodded, already sliding down in your seat. You leaned over, taking him into your mouth. Heeseung sucked in a sharp breath, his hand gently threading through your hair. You took him deeper, tongue swirling around the head before sliding down his length. He was big you had to go slow, relaxing your throat to take more of him. The salty taste of his precum coated your tongue as you bobbed your head, sucking him with wet, quiet sounds.

Heeseung’s breathing grew heavier. He tried to stay quiet, biting his lip, but soft, low groans escaped him whenever you sucked harder or swirled your tongue just right. His fingers tightened in your hair, not pushing, just holding on. “You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, voice strained. “So fucking good”

You took him as deep as you could, hollowing your cheeks, one hand stroking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. His hips twitched slightly, fighting the urge to thrust. You could feel him throbbing against your tongue, getting closer.

When he finally came, it was with a quiet, choked groan. Hot spurts filled your mouth as you swallowed around him, milking him through it. Heeseung’s hand trembled in your hair, breathing ragged. You pulled off slowly, licking your lips as you sat back up. Heeseung looked at you with dark, stunned eyes, chest rising and falling quickly. He quickly tucked himself back into his jeans, then pulled you close, kissing your temple. “Fuck… that was…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

You smiled shyly, cheeks warm, heart still racing.

The rest of the movie passed in a haze. Heeseung kept his arm around you, thumb gently stroking your shoulder, occasionally pressing soft kisses to your hair. When the credits rolled, he leaned in and whispered, “Let’s get you home.”

The car ride back to the apartment was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Heeseung’s hand occasionally brushed against yours on the center console, a small, reassuring touch that made your chest feel strangely warm. You were still replaying the movie in your head or at least pretending to while your body hummed with the memory of what you had done in the theatre. When you reached your building, Heeseung parked and walked you up to your door like he always did now. But instead of saying goodnight, he lingered in the hallway.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” You nodded, unlocking the door and letting him inside. The apartment was dimly lit, the only light coming from the small lamp on the side table. You both took off your shoes and sat down on the couch. Heeseung turned to face you, looking a little tense. He took a slow breath before speaking.

“My family wants to meet you,” he said. “During Thanksgiving. My dad specifically asked me to bring you.” You blinked, processing the words. Thanksgiving was only a few weeks away. “Oh,” you said quietly. “Are we going to reveal the pregnancy then?”

Heeseung nodded, eyes steady on yours. “Yeah I think it’s time. They deserve to know.” You sat there for a moment, letting the idea settle. A small, nervous smile crossed your face. “I know they’ll be happy,” you said, trying to sound optimistic. “My parents were over the moon when I told them. Yours will probably be excited too, right? A grandbaby and everything”

Heeseung didn’t reply right away. He looked down at his hands, jaw tightening just slightly. You didn’t notice the way his shoulders tensed or the brief flash of worry in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said eventually, voice quiet. “They’ll be happy.”But inside, Heeseung knew the truth.His father wouldn’t be happy. Not even close. The man who had spent years pressuring him to be better than his older brother, who had made it clear that basketball and the NBA were the only priorities that man was going to see this as a distraction. A mistake. A threat to everything he had planned for Heeseung’s future.

Heeseung could already imagine the cold disappointment in his father’s voice, the sharp questions, the comparisons to his perfect older brother who had never “messed up” like this.But he didn’t say any of that to you. Instead, he reached over and gently took your hand, squeezing it. “We’ll face it together,” he said softly. “Okay?” You nodded, leaning into his side a little. You still believed his family would be supportive like yours had been. You had no idea about the tension that existed between Heeseung and his father.

Heeseung wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, holding you there for a long moment.For now, he would let you believe everything would be fine.He would carry the worry alone. Because no matter how his parents reacted, one thing was certain he was going to protect you and Bambi no matter what.

The weeks that followed settled into a rhythm you never expected and one you were desperately trying not to get used to. Heeseung was always there. Quietly, steadily, without making a big deal out of it. He’d show up in the mornings with breakfast he’d prepared before practice, simple things like warm ginger porridge or toast with honey that your stomach could actually handle. Some days he’d stay longer than usual, sitting on the edge of your bed while you ate, watching you with that soft look in his eyes that made your chest feel tight. You told yourself it was just the pregnancy making you emotional.

One morning, after a particularly rough night of nausea, you woke up feeling miserable. Heeseung had let himself in with the spare key. Without saying much, he pulled you into the shower with him, washing your hair with gentle fingers while the warm water ran over both of you. The closeness, the steam, the way his body felt against yours , it ignited something fierce. You ended up pressed against the tiled wall, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked you slow and deep, water cascading over your joined bodies. He whispered against your neck how beautiful you looked like this, carrying his baby, and you came so hard you saw stars.

Afterward, he dried you off, carried you back to bed, and held you until you fell asleep again. You told yourself it was just hormones. Just physical need nothing more. Another afternoon, you came home from classes exhausted and emotionally drained. Heeseung was already waiting inside, having cooked a light dinner. You barely ate two bites before the tears started. He didn’t ask questions. He just pulled you onto his lap on the couch, kissing you softly at first, then deeper, hungrier. You ended up riding him right there, slow and desperate, his hands cradling your slightly rounded belly the entire time.

He looked up at you like you were the only thing in his world, groaning your name when he came inside you. You hid your face in his shoulder afterward, heart racing for reasons you refused to name. There were quieter moments too. One night, when the anxiety hit you hard, you texted him at 2 a.m. He showed up minutes later, crawling into bed with you fully clothed. He held you close, rubbing your back, kissing your forehead repeatedly until you calmed down.

That night turned heated too you ended up on top of him again, moving slowly in the dark, his hands gentle on your hips as he whispered how strong you were. You came with his name on your lips and tried to convince yourself it didn’t mean anything. Heeseung started leaving little notes everywhere. “Drink water for Bambi.” “You’re doing amazing today.” “Text me when you’re home.” He’d read parenting books late at night and tell you random facts over dinner what week the baby could hear your voice, how to tell if the nausea was improving, safe positions for intimacy during pregnancy.

You’d watch him cook in your kitchen, sleeves rolled up, humming softly under his breath, and feel something dangerously warm bloom in your chest. You told yourself it was just the hormones making you soft. But it was getting harder to lie to yourself. One lazy Sunday afternoon, you were both on the couch watching a movie. Heeseung’s hand rested on your belly, thumb stroking absentmindedly. The simple touch turned into slow kisses, then heated touches.

You ended up straddling him, riding him deep and slow while the movie played in the background. He kept one hand on your belly the whole time, eyes locked on yours, whispering how much he loved seeing you like this. When you came, trembling in his arms, you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from saying something you couldn’t take back. You were trying so hard not to admit it.Every forehead kiss made your stomach flutter. Every time he cooked for you or held you through a crying spell, your heart felt too full.

Every night he stayed over, wrapped around you naked and warm, you had to remind yourself this is just for the baby. This isn’t real. I don’t like him like that.But deep down, you knew the truth was slipping away from you. You were starting to like Lee Heeseung the real him. The one who showed up without being asked. The one who read parenting books at 3 a.m. The one who looked at you like you were carrying something precious. And you had no idea what to do with that.

The day of Heeseung’s game arrived faster than you expected. It was the last match before the team’s short break for Thanksgiving, and you had agreed to go with Yunjin and Soobin. You were three months along now, your belly softly rounded under an oversized hoodie with Heeseung’s jersey number hidden beneath. The nausea had eased a bit, but the hormones still made everything feel more intense emotions, touches, even the cheers from the crowd.

You sat in the stands between your friends, heart fluttering with a mix of nervousness and something warmer you refused to name. Yunjin was practically bouncing in her seat, waving a small handmade sign that said “GO HEESUNG!” while Soobin sat calmly beside you, occasionally glancing at you with quiet concern. The game started strong, but it quickly became clear that today wasn’t their day.

Heeseung played hard you could see the determination on his face every time he drove to the basket or called out plays. But the opposing team was on fire, and your university’s defense kept slipping. By halftime, they were down by 8 points. The crowd grew restless. You found yourself gripping the star shaped squishy toy he had given you, squeezing it tightly every time Heeseung missed a shot or got blocked.

In the second half, things got worse. Heeseung fought until the final buzzer, but the team lost by 14 points.

The arena was quiet as the final score flashed on the screen. You felt a pang in your chest watching Heeseung stand on the court, shoulders slightly slumped, sweat dripping from his hair. He looked disappointed but not broken, still the captain, still trying to rally his teammates with claps on the back and quiet words.

After the teams shook hands and the crowd started to disperse, you told Yunjin and Soobin you’d meet them later. You made your way down toward the court area, heart beating faster as you waited near the tunnel.

Heeseung emerged a few minutes later, freshly showered, hair still damp. The moment his eyes found you, his expression softened. He walked straight to you, ignoring the few lingering people around.

Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. You hugged him back tightly, one hand rubbing his back, the other resting on the back of his head.

“You played really well,” you whispered. “I’m proud of you.”He let out a heavy breath against your skin. “We fucked up today. I fucked up.” “You didn’t,” you said gently, pulling back just enough to look at him. “You fought until the end. That’s what captains do. One bad game doesn’t change how good you are.”

Heeseung searched your eyes for a moment, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there. His arms stayed wrapped around your waist, careful not to press too hard on your belly.

“Thank you for coming,” he murmured. “Means a lot.”

You stayed like that for a while, letting him hold you in the quiet hallway outside the locker room. A few of his teammates walked past, but no one said anything. The public affection felt natural now part of the “fake” image you were both maintaining. But the way he held you felt anything but fake.When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. “We leave for my parents’ place in two days,” he said quietly. “You still okay with going?”

You nodded, even though nerves twisted in your stomach. “Yeah. We’ll face it together.”Heeseung smiled faintly and kissed your forehead one more time before letting you go.“I’ll see you later. Get some rest, okay? For you and Bambi.”You watched him walk back toward the locker room, heart doing that annoying flutter again.You told yourself it was just the pregnancy.Just hormones. But as you walked back to meet Yunjin and Soobin, you couldn’t ignore how safe you felt in his arms or how much you were starting to crave that feeling.

The arena slowly emptied as you, Soobin, and Yunjin made your way out into the cool night air. The loss still lingered in the atmosphere, but the walk back felt lighter thanks to your friends’ company. Yunjin was practically glowing Sunghoon had offered to drop her home after the game, and she couldn’t stop smiling about it. “I’ll see you guys later!” she called out, waving excitedly as Sunghoon’s car pulled up. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Soobin chuckled softly beside you as you both continued walking toward your apartment building.

The streets were quieter now, the distant cheers from the arena fading behind you. Soobin walked at your pace, hands in his pockets, glancing at you every few steps.After a comfortable silence, he spoke gently. “So you and Heeseung, huh?” You kept your eyes on the sidewalk, fingers fiddling with the hem of your oversized hoodie. “Yeah I guess so.” Soobin nodded slowly. “He seems different with you. Nicer I’ve seen how he looks at you during games. How he checks on you. It’s not what I expected.”

You smiled faintly, thinking about the way Heeseung had hugged you after the match, the soft kiss on your forehead, the way he always made sure you ate something gentle on your stomach. “He’s been really good to me,” you admitted quietly. “He brings me food that doesn’t make me sick. He checks on me every day. He even reads parenting books e’s trying a lot.”

Soobin was quiet for a moment, processing. Then he asked the question you’d been dreading. “Do you actually love him?” You hesitated.

The words got stuck in your throat. Your heart raced as memories flashed through your mind Heeseung holding you while you cried, cooking for you at 2 a.m., kissing your belly and whispering to Bambi, the way he looked at you like you mattered.You forced a small laugh, trying to sound casual. “Obviously duh.” Soobin stopped walking. He turned to face you fully under a streetlight, his expression soft but serious.

“It just feels really sudden,” he said gently. “One minute you hated him. You used to complain about him every single day. And now you’re dating him and pregnant with his child. It’s a lot to take in. Are you sure you’re okay?” You looked down at your shoes, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. The truth sat heavy in your chest you weren’t sure if you loved him. You were still trying so hard not to admit how much he was starting to mean to you. The hormones made everything confusing. The pregnancy made everything terrifying. And Heeseung himself made everything feel safe.

“I’m figuring it out,” you said quietly. “It’s complicated. But he’s been there for me for us.” Soobin nodded, not pushing any further. He simply walked beside you the rest of the way, offering his quiet, steady presence like he always did. When you reached your apartment building, he gave you a gentle hug. “I’m happy for you if you’re happy,” he said softly. “But if you ever need to talk I’m here. No judgment.” You hugged him back tightly, grateful beyond words. “Thank you, Soobin.”

As you walked up to your door alone, you leaned against it for a moment, hand resting on your belly.

You were still trying so hard not to admit it.

But every day, it was getting harder to lie to yourself.

You finally reached your apartment after the long walk back with Soobin and Yunjin. The moment the door closed behind you, the exhaustion of the day the game, the stares, the emotions settled heavily on your shoulders. You kicked off your shoes, changed into an oversized t-shirt, and crawled into bed. Before turning off the lights, you picked up your phone and texted Heeseung.

You : Reached home going to sleep now goodnight

You set the phone on the nightstand and turned off the lamp, pulling the blanket up to your chin. But sleep didn’t come. Thirty minutes passed. Then forty. You tossed and turned, mind racing with thoughts of the game, the whispers you’d heard, the weight of the secret you were still carrying, and the tiny life growing inside you. The pregnancy hormones made everything feel louder your emotions, your body, your worries. You heard the soft click of the front door opening. Heeseung must have used the spare key you’d given him.

A few seconds later, he appeared in the doorway of your bedroom, silhouetted by the faint hallway light. He looked tired from the game but his expression softened the moment he saw you.“You’re still awake?” he asked gently.You sat up slowly, hugging your knees to your chest. Your voice came out small and tired.“I can’t sleep…”

Heeseung didn’t hesitate. He walked over, kicked off his shoes, and climbed onto the bed beside you. Without a word, you raised your arms toward him. “Cuddles please?” Heeseung’s face softened even more. He pulled you into his arms immediately, wrapping you up against his chest.

One of his hands rested protectively over your small belly while the other stroked your back in slow, soothing circles. “Anything for my baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

The word “baby” made your heart skip. You knew this was all supposed to be fake the relationship, the affection, everything. He shouldn’t be calling you that. But you didn’t correct him. You just burrowed deeper into his chest, letting his warmth and steady heartbeat calm the storm inside you. Heeseung held you tighter, chin resting on top of your head. “Rough day?” he asked softly.

You nodded against him. “The game the stares everything feels too much sometimes.” “I know,” he murmured. “But you did good today. You were there for me. That means a lot.” You stayed silent, just letting him hold you. His hand continued its gentle strokes on your back, occasionally drifting to rub small circles over your belly. The simple touch made something warm bloom in your chest, something you quickly pushed down. It’s just hormones, you reminded yourself. This isn’t real. But it felt real.

Heeseung shifted slightly, pulling the blanket higher over both of you.

“Sleep now,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. Both of you.” You closed your eyes, safe in his arms, and finally drifted off. Heeseung stayed awake a little longer, holding you close, his hand never leaving your belly. He pressed one last soft kiss to your forehead before letting sleep take him too. In the quiet darkness of your apartment, wrapped in each other, the line between fake and real blurred a little more.

Heeseung lay awake in the dark, long after you had fallen asleep in his arms. Your head rested on his chest, breath warm and steady against his skin. One of your hands had unconsciously curled into his shirt, holding on even in sleep. His own hand stayed protectively over the small, soft swell of your belly where Bambi was growing. He could feel the faint warmth of your body, the subtle rise and fall of your breathing, and it made something deep and fierce bloom in his chest. He was so fucking happy.

It was terrifying how happy he was.This wasn’t the kind of happiness he was used to the rush of winning a game, the high of a party, the fleeting satisfaction of a random hookup. This was quieter and deeper. It settled in his bones and refused to leave. He had never imagined himself here lying in bed with the girl who used to hate him, holding her while she carried his child. But now that he was, he couldn’t picture anything else.

His thumb traced slow, gentle circles over your belly Bambi. The nickname still made him smile every time he thought about it. He remembered the first time he felt the baby move just a tiny flutter that you had grabbed his hand for. That moment had wrecked him in the best way. He had stayed up half the night after that, reading every article he could find about fetal movement, what it meant, how to support you through the coming months. He was falling in love with the baby. But he was also falling in love with you and that part scared him more.

He had always been honest with himself about girls before they were fun, temporary, never serious. But you were different. You had always been different. Even when you were yelling at him through the wall, even when you called him entitled and cocky, you looked at him like he was just a person. Not the basketball captain. Not the guy with the rich dad. Just… him and now? Now you let him hold you. You let him cook for you. You let him talk to your belly and kiss your forehead and stay the night when you were anxious. You were slowly opening up to him in ways he never thought you would.

Heeseung pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, breathing you in. He remembered the night he asked you to marry him. The way you had laughed at first, then looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. The rejection had hurt more than he let on. Not because his ego was bruised, but because for one brief, stupid moment, he had let himself imagine a future where you chose him too.

But he respected your decision. He wouldn’t force you to love him. He wouldn’t trap you in something you didn’t want. If all you could give him right now was this, these quiet nights, these shared moments, this careful co-parenting he would take it. He would take anything you were willing to give. Still he couldn’t stop the quiet hope that bloomed in his chest every time you smiled at him. Every time you leaned into his touch. Every time you fell asleep in his arms like you belonged there.

Heeseung closed his eyes, holding you a little tighter.

He didn’t know what the future held, especially with his father waiting at Thanksgiving, ready to judge and criticize. But for the first time in his life, he felt like he had something worth fighting for you and Bambi.

This strange, messy, beautiful thing growing between you. He was going to protect it. Even if you never loved him back the same way. Even if this was all still “fake” to you. Heeseung whispered against your hair, so quietly he barely heard it himself “I’ve got you both.” And in the dark, with you safe in his arms, he let himself believe it was enough for now.

ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ.

The drive to Heeseung’s parents’ house felt longer than it should have. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and the highway stretched out in front of you, lined with trees that were slowly turning bare for winter. You sat in the passenger seat of Heeseung’s car, hands resting on your lap, occasionally drifting to the small, rounded curve of your belly under your oversized sweater. Three months and two weeks. The bump was undeniable now if you weren’t careful, but you still hid it as best as you could.

Heeseung drove with one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally brushing against yours on the center console. The radio played softly in the background some acoustic playlist he had put on because he knew loud music sometimes made your nausea worse these days. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy. You could feel the weight of what was coming. Meeting his parents. Revealing the pregnancy. Pretending to be in a real relationship when everything still felt so fragile and confusing.

You glanced at him. He looked calm on the surface focused on the road, jaw relaxed but you noticed the way his fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel. He was nervous too. “Are you okay?” you asked quietly. Heeseung gave you a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah just thinking about how this is going to go.” He paused, then added, “My dad can be intense. He has high expectations. But my mom will probably be happy to see you. She’s been asking about you since I told them I was bringing someone.”

You nodded, looking out the window again. Your hand unconsciously rubbed small circles over your belly.

“I’m nervous,” you admitted after a while. “What if they don’t like me? What if they think I’m just some girl who trapped you?” Heeseung reached over and gently took your hand, squeezing it once before returning his to the wheel. “They’re not going to think that,” he said, voice steady. “And even if they do it doesn’t matter. This is about us and Bambi not them.”

You stayed quiet, but his words settled something warm in your chest. You tried to ignore it. It’s just hormones, you told yourself again. Don’t get attached.

The car ride continued with small talk to fill the silence. Heeseung asked about your capstone project, about whether the nausea had gotten any better, about what you wanted to eat when you got there. You asked him about his basketball schedule after the break, about whether he was excited to see his mom. The conversation was easy, almost domestic, and that scared you more than the upcoming meeting. At one point, Heeseung reached over and rested his hand on your thigh not sexual, just comforting. You let it stay there.

Halfway through the drive, he spoke again, voice softer. “Thank you for doing this with me,” he said. “I know it’s a lot. Meeting my family pretending all of it. But I’m glad it’s you.” Your heart did that annoying little flip again. You looked down at your lap, cheeks warming. “Yeah me too,” you whispered. The rest of the drive passed in comfortable quiet. Heeseung kept the music low, occasionally humming along. Every now and then his hand would find yours again, giving it a gentle squeeze.

When the familiar gates of his parents’ large, modern house came into view, your stomach twisted with nerves. Heeseung parked the car and turned to you, his expression serious but kind.“You ready?” he asked.

You took a deep breath and nodded.“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Heeseung leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead the same gentle gesture he had been giving you more and more lately. “We’ve got this,” he murmured against your skin. “Together.”

You stepped out of the car with him, heart pounding, hand instinctively resting on your belly as you walked toward the front door of his family home. Thanksgiving had officially begun. The walk from the car to the front door felt longer than it should have. Your hand instinctively rested on your belly under the oversized sweater, a small, protective gesture you’d developed over the past few weeks. The house was beautiful, modern, large, with clean lines and big windows that glowed warmly from the inside. It looked expensive. Intimidating.

Heeseung walked beside you, his hand lightly brushing against yours before he gently took it. His grip was warm and steady.“You okay?” he asked quietly. You nodded, even though your stomach was twisting with nerves. “Just a little scared.”

He squeezed your hand. “I’ve got you. We’ll do this together.”Before you could respond, the front door opened. A woman in her late 40s stepped out, elegant and poised, with sharp features softened by a warm smile. She had Heeseung’s dark eyes. This had to be his mom.

“Heeseung!” she called out happily, walking down the steps to meet you both. She pulled her son into a tight hug first. “My baby. You look tired. Have you been eating properly?” Heeseung hugged her back. “I’m fine, Mom.”Then she turned to you, her expression softening even more. “You must be the girl my son has been talking about,” she said warmly, stepping forward to pull you into a gentle hug. She smelled like expensive perfume and fresh flowers. “I’m Heeseung’s mom. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

You hugged her back, surprised by how kind her embrace felt. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Lee.”

She pulled back but kept her hands on your shoulders, studying your face with genuine curiosity and warmth.“Please, call me Eunae,” she said. “Come inside, both of you. It’s cold out here.” She ushered you both into the house. The interior was even more impressive high ceilings, modern furniture, and a large living room that opened into a beautiful kitchen. The smell of something delicious cooking drifted from the kitchen. Eunae led you to the living room and gestured for you to sit on the large, comfortable sofa.

“Heeseung told us you’d be coming,” she said, sitting across from you with a soft smile. “I’ve been looking forward to this. He doesn’t bring girls home often, you know.” You felt your cheeks warm. Heeseung sat beside you, close enough that his thigh pressed against yours. Eunae asked gentle questions about your studies, your dreams of becoming an art curator, how you and Heeseung had started dating. You answered carefully, sticking to the story you two had rehearsed. She listened with genuine interest, occasionally glancing at Heeseung with a proud but slightly worried look.

Dinner was almost ready, she said. As she stood up to check on the food, she smiled at both of you.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” she said quietly. “Both of you. This house has been too quiet lately.”You smiled back, feeling a little less nervous. But the tension in the air was still there the knowledge that Heeseung’s dad was somewhere in the house, and that the real test was yet to come.Heeseung squeezed your hand again, as if sensing your thoughts. “We’ve got this,” he whispered when his mom left the room. You nodded, leaning into his side just a little.For now, you were safe.

Later at dinner the dining table was beautifully set. Heeseung’s mom had prepared a generous spread grilled meat, fresh vegetables, rice, and several side dishes. His dad sat at the head of the table, a tall, imposing man with sharp eyes and a serious expression. He had greeted you politely but coolly when you first arrived. The conversation started light. Eunae asked more about your studies. His dad asked about basketball. Heeseung answered calmly, his hand occasionally brushing yours under the table for reassurance.

Then, halfway through the meal, Heeseung cleared his throat. “Mom. Dad,” he said, voice steady but serious. “There’s something we need to tell you.”

Both parents looked at him. Eunae’s expression was curious. His dad’s was already guarded.Heeseung reached over and took your hand openly on the table.

“She’s pregnant,” he said. “Three months along. The baby is mine.” The silence that followed was heavy.

Eunae’s eyes widened, then filled with tears. She brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh a grandbaby?”

The dining room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence after Heeseung’s announcement. Eunae’s eyes were wide with surprise, then quickly filled with happy tears. She brought a hand to her mouth, whispering, “A grandbaby oh, Heeseung” But his father’s reaction was ice cold.Mr. Lee set his chopsticks down with a sharp clack. His eyes narrowed on Heeseung, then flicked to you with clear disapproval. “Pregnant,” he repeated, voice low and cutting. “You got this girl pregnant while you’re supposed to be focusing on your future in the league? Are you serious right now?”

Heeseung’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “Yes. We’re keeping the baby.” Mr. Lee let out a harsh, disbelieving scoff. He leaned back in his chair, looking at his son like he was a disappointment he could barely stand. “Of course you are. Because that’s what you do, isn’t it? Make reckless decisions and expect everyone else to clean up after you.” His voice grew sharper, colder. “Your brother Heedo never did anything like this. He stayed focused. He trained hard. He made it pro without distractions. And you? You’re out here throwing away your career for some girl you barely know and a baby you’re not ready for.”

The words landed like punches.You felt Heeseung tense beside you, his hand gripping yours under the table. His shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t speak.

Mr. Lee wasn’t done. “You think you can handle this? You can’t even handle the pressure of being captain properly. Always distracted, always partying, always doing the bare minimum. Heedo was never like this. He was disciplined. He was excellent. And you you’re just average. Now you’ve gone and ruined your future before it even started.” The silence that followed was brutal.Eunae looked uncomfortable, glancing between her husband and son. Heeseung’s face was carefully blank

The silence that followed Mr. Lee’s words was brutal.

Eunae looked uncomfortable, her eyes darting between her husband and son. Heeseung’s face remained carefully blank, but you could feel the tension radiating from him the way his jaw clenched, the way his hand tightened around yours under the table. Mr. Lee leaned forward, voice dripping with disappointment. “You think you can handle a child? You can’t even handle yourself. Always chasing girls, throwing parties, wasting time instead of training like your brother did.

Heedo never let anything distract him. He made it pro because he was focused, disciplined, excellent and you? You’re average at best. Now you’ve gone and ruined your future before it even started all because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.” The words cut deep. You felt Heeseung flinch beside you, though he tried to hide it. Something inside you snapped.

You stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. Your heart was pounding, but your voice came out steady and sharp. “Enough.” Everyone at the table turned to look at you. Mr. Lee’s eyes narrowed.

“You don’t get to talk to him like that,” you said, voice trembling with anger but clear. “Heeseung has been working incredibly hard. He’s been there for me every single day since we found out about the baby. He’s reading parenting books, adjusting his schedule, taking care of me when I’m sick all while still being the captain of his team. He’s trying his best, and that’s more than enough.” You looked at Heeseung, who was staring at you with wide, surprised eyes. “We’re leaving,” you said firmly, taking his hand. “We don’t have to sit here and listen to this.”

Heeseung stood up beside you without hesitation. Eunae looked torn, but she didn’t stop you. Mr. Lee’s face was red with anger, but you didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Thank you for dinner,” you said politely but coldly to Eunae. “But we’re done here.”

You pulled Heeseung toward the door. He followed without a word, his hand warm and tight around yours. The moment you stepped outside, the cool night air hit your face. You didn’t stop walking until you reached his car. Only then did you turn to him.

Heeseung looked stunned. His eyes were glassy, and for the first time, you saw raw vulnerability on his face.

“You stood up for me,” he whispered. You squeezed his hand. “Of course I did. He had no right to talk to you like that.” Heeseung pulled you into his arms right there in the driveway, hugging you tightly. You felt him exhale shakily against your hair. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I I don’t know what to say.” You hugged him back just as tightly, your hand resting on his back.

As you both drove away from his parents’ house, the silence in the car was heavy but not cold. Heeseung reached over and took your hand again, holding it the entire drive back. For the first time, you didn’t pull away. And for the first time, you didn’t tell yourself it was just hormones.

The drive back to the apartment complex was quiet.

Heeseung kept one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally brushing against yours on the center console. Neither of you said much. The weight of his father’s cruel words still hung heavy in the car, and you could feel the exhaustion radiating from him. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, and every now and then he let out a slow, controlled breath like he was trying to push the night’s events away.

When he finally parked in front of the building, it was already well past midnight. The hallway lights were dim, casting long shadows across the floor as you both walked up to your doors in silence. The air felt cooler now, the kind of late-night chill that made you pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself.

Heeseung stopped in front of his own apartment, keys in hand. He looked tired drained in a way that went beyond the long day and the difficult dinner. His eyes were distant, like he was still replaying his father’s voice in his head.

“I think… I want to be alone tonight,” he said quietly, not quite meeting your eyes. “Just need some time to think.” You nodded, understanding. The night had been draining for both of you. You didn’t want to push him when he clearly needed space. “Okay,” you whispered. “Take care of yourself.” Before he could turn away, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. Heeseung stiffened for a second, surprised, then melted into it. His arms came around you, strong and warm, pulling you close.

You felt his face press into your hair, his breath shaky against your neck. For a long moment, you just held each other in the quiet hallway, the only sound being the faint hum of the building’s ventilation system.

When you finally pulled back, you rose onto your tiptoes and pressed a soft, lingering peck to his cheek. Your lips lingered there for a second longer than necessary, feeling the warmth of his skin.

Heeseung froze. His eyes widened slightly as he looked at you, surprised and something else, something softer, almost vulnerable. Why did you do that? you thought, heart racing. This is all supposed to be fake right? But you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You were in love with him. The realization hit you like a wave as you stood there in the dim hallway.

You loved Lee Heeseung not just because of the baby, not just because of the way he took care of you, but because of him. The man who showed up without being asked. The man who read parenting books at 3 a.m. The man who held you when you cried, kissed your forehead like it was the most natural thing in the world, and made you feel safe in a way no one else ever had. You wanted to build a family with him. You wanted the quiet nights, the shared meals, the gentle way he spoke to your belly. You wanted him.

The thought terrified you and warmed you at the same time. Heeseung lingered for a second longer, eyes searching yours, before he gave you a small, tired smile. “Goodnight,” he whispered. “Goodnight,” you replied softly. He disappeared into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. You stood there alone for a moment, heart still racing, before walking into your own place. You locked the door, leaned against it, and let out a long, shaky breath.

You’re in love with him, you admitted to yourself, pressing a hand to your chest. You want this. You want him. You want a family with him. The realization felt both freeing and terrifying. But before you could sit with it any longer, your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. You walked over and picked it up. The screen showed a message from an unknown number.

Unknown : Stay away from Heeseung or else your career and his especially are doomed. I will make sure of it

PERMANENT TAGLIST : @wonscrchy @miniij @ni-kichromeheartzz @evansfangz @jakeycakeys @addictedtohobi @babydumplingpandabamboo @simjakeyjake @angelhyuka @nodoubtily @chanchamm @ni-k1ttie @yangw0ni3 @mystgene @enheenie @jeongspetal @mokacoca @8naqvg @cherryhwajoong @k-ra05650 @hsngx @hoonguin @yamzz67 @chaostudee @jayrassicpaaark @jakeswifey @rinaarii @mayouar @starboyhee @dolikecherrycoke @sugarcwtie @simj4k3

There's something about the soft lilt of your voice that makes him feel ashamed to even speak in your presence. There's something about your enticing eyes that makes him stutter and stumble with his own words, his grammar-police persona flying out the window. There's something about the sure sway of your hips that makes him want to avert his gaze and look more all the same time; like something sinful he shouldn't want but crave for anyway.

You're the kind of woman that makes Sim Jaeyun nervous.

Park Jongseong's cousin from the States that always comes to visit for summer, with that bold show of your body that'll usually often get frowned upon in his neighbourhood, that honey tint of your skin that's far from the local society's beauty standard. You're upfront and so unapologetically you, something he admires and makes him overly conscious if his hair looks nice or not.

It's another summer and you're here again. You're always a welcome addition to their annual trip to Jay's beach house, a road trip that's usually joined by the other five plus you and him. But this year, Nishimura Riki had a last minute decision to cancel his flight to Japan and opted to spend the summer with them instead of with his family.

Which leaves all of you with no space for one person inside Jay's SUV.

"I call dibs on the rear seats," Heeseung says before anyone gets the chance to and disappears into the car. Riki opens his mouth, about to follow the eldest of the group, when Jungwon shoots him a sharp look and blocks his way with his hand.

"No, Riki. You're not getting a seat."

Riki's face morphs into horror. "What?! Am I excluded from this trip?"

"You cancelled your flight this morning. You were never included in the trip."

Seeing the look of hurt on his face, Sunoo actually takes pity on Riki. Peering inside, the blonde mumbles with a pout when he sees a small ice box sitting beside Heeseung. "Surely we can squeeze him into the rear seat, right…?"

"All of his six-feet-one ass? I'd like to see you try, Sunoo hyung." Jungwon shakes his head. He leans on the passenger door, already the assigned co-pilot of the car, in charge of Spotify playlist and Waze and moral support to his Jay hyung. "Either one of you sits in another's lap, or we can Uber Riki to the beach house."

Hearing that, Riki immediately throws his hands. "It's a two-hour drive, hyung, I might just be paying for the Uber's car loan! It's gonna be so expensive!"

"If you can afford cancelling your flight with no refunds, then I think you can afford an Uber to Sokcho."

Riki whips his head to his Sunoo and Jake hyung, jutting out his lips in a pout that's borderline pitiful. Jake mirrors his expression, not really having the power to go against Jungwon's verdict—as if anybody could. Jake pities him, really, but it's Yang Jungwon. There's a whole menace behind those cute dimples and boba eyes.

Beside him, Sunghoon lets out a long sigh. "Then one of us will have to sit in another's lap."

It's an option that has everybody darting their eyes around, afraid that any eye contact with Jungwon will make them become the sacrificial thighs for the two-hour road trip. They're all men packed with mass and muscles, a result of a gym routine that unexpectedly becomes a problem today. Each of them at least weighs one hundred-forty pounds. Jake's sure that if he was chosen, he'd lose his legs by the time they exit Seoul.

Just in time, a loud thud is heard from the car boot. You and Jay walk into the scene, just having finished loading all of their stuff into the car. Jake adjusts his glasses instinctively, unknowingly fixing his appearence when his eyes land on you.

You've abandoned your cardigan, now only wearing a yellow camisole top that only reaches your belly button and a pair of jeans shorts that ends at the bottom swell of your ass. Your outfit choice hides nothing about your figure—your perfect body that admittedly has always been on his mind.

Jake gulps and lets his eyes trail down to your legs. You're seriously one of the most beautiful and hottest girls he's ever seen, and unfortunately, he has a severe problem of having a crush on baddies who are completely out of his nerdy league. You're definitely one of them.

When he looks up, Jake almost faints when your gaze catches his eyes with an unreadable expression. He quickly averts his eyes, adjusting the thick black rims of his glasses that didn't need adjusting.

Did you notice him staring?

"Car seat problem?" Jay asks when he senses the tension among the boys, already foreseeing this issue the moment Riki told him that he was joining their road trip over the phone this morning. They hesitantly nod.

"So what's the solution?"

"Riki takes an Uber to Sokcho—"

"Which will cost him his tuition fees," Jay comments, ever the hyperbole-user.

"—Or someone has to sit in another's lap."

Judging from the expression on Jay's face, he, too, doesn't think it's a comfortable position to be sitting in on a two-hour road trip.

But apparently, someone thinks otherwise.

"Oh, then let's do that!" You pipe in, flashing them with your charming smile. "I don't mind doing it!"

There's an elephant silence that follows your statement. Upon seeing their gaped expression, your smile slowly dies down, unsure if you had said the right thing.

"…Or not."

"Or yes!" Riki interrupts, relief flooding his senses. His eyes lit up as he looks around at each one of his friends. "Guys, she's offered to sit in anyone's lap. We can do that, right?"

Jungwon narrows his eyes. "It's a two-hour drive."

Riki blinks nervously. "But noona wants it."

"Then let Y/N noona sit in your lap."

Now, there's a rosy blush blooming across Riki's cheeks. Jake frowns. Lucky bastard. "I-I mean—"

"Not him," you cut in, a small smile playing on your lips. Jake can feel the exact moment everyone holds their breath, as if the air pauses on its own accord and waits for the rest of your sentence. Either they're anticipating or dreading to be your exclusive seat in the car—he's not sure. He's certain that he's the former, but he's also certain you'd pick someone more your type—Sunghoon or Riki, who are loyal gym buddies that possess strong thighs for you to sit on—or even Heeseung who's abandoned his nap and is eavesdropping the conversation now.

He doesn't know why, but surely someone hot like you would pick someone just as hot, right? And hot in Sim Jaeyun's definition is someone who matches your confidence (not him), someone who has a good body and is not shy to show them (Jake thinks his body is nice, but he's also always wearing long-sleeves), or just anyone but him.

Jay pinches the bridge of his nose. "Then who?"

When your eyes meet Jake's, the brown-haired boy almost loses his breath.

A smile curves up your lips. Jake thinks he's hallucinating because there's no way you are smirking at him.

"With Jaeyun."

There's a ripple of gasps, disbelief and shock mixing with a hint of betrayal (no doubt from Riki). Jay's brow disappears behind his hair.

"Seriously, Y/N? You don't have to—Riki's rich enough to pay for the Uber."

Riki's protest is muffled when Jungwon pulls him into a chokehold and slaps a hand over his mouth. Jake wants to pity him, really, but this time he thinks he's the one who needs help because what do you mean? There's no way—

"I'm serious. Jaeyun-ah."

—Oh my fucking God. Jaeyun. Jaeyun. Who's Jaeyun? Who the fuck is Jaeyun?

Jake has a trouble hearing you over the loud roar of his blood, heart threatening to jump out of his throat. But he manages a small, airy, 'Hm?' when all eyes are on him.

You tilt your head slightly, eyes never letting go of his, holding him hostage in your gaze alone. This, paired with the way you call his government name—a name you prefer over Jake because 'it's cuter' (according to you, not him) when he first introduced himself to you four years ago, and Jake had let you because he could never say no to you—are the most perfect, never-before-seen formula to unravel the physics genius Sim Jaeyun.

Yeah. Jake is a goner. And will soon have a boner if no one stops you from picking him as today's sacrificial thighs.

"Can I sit with you, Jaeyunnie?"

Someone please say no. Someone please stop you. Someone please tell this Jaeyun to say no because—because why him? Is this some kind of a cliché ploy that popular girls do to play with men's feelings, especially a physics nerd like him? Because if it is, Jake hates to admit that he'd be a willing participant (even if it'd break his heart a little).

"Yes, sure," he squeaks, finally recognising that Jaeyun is his name. He's still trying to process that you chose him—not Sunghoon with his ridiculous broad shoulders, or Riki with his ridiculous long legs, or Heeseung with his ridiculous charm—but him, who's sweating buckets and dampening his armpits underneath his long-sleeved T-shirt. His glasses almost glide down his nose from how sticky it is.

"It's settled, then!" Sunoo claps once, already red and irritated from having to stand under the unforgiving sun for longer than necessary. "Jake hyung and Y/N will sit together. So I will be sitting with—"

"Me!"

"Me!"

Sunoo ignores Sunghoon and Riki, and walks straight to the rear seats. "With Heeseung hyung!"

Soon, there's shuffling and then everyone's already inside the car. Riki sits in the middle with a pout, a penalty for causing the minor disruption and losing rock-paper-scissors to Sunghoon and Jake. Sunghoon is happily humming to a song from the 80s, occassionally turning around to tease Sunoo who's been trying to join Heeseung in his mandatory road-trip nap. Jay and Jungwon have settled into their designated seats as the drivers of the day, already talking about the route they're taking and traffic condition. While Jake—well, he's preparing himself for the inevitable.

You're still standing by the door, overseeing the situation at hand, and Jake tries to ignore the way his cheeks burn under your weighted gaze.

"Can I sit now?" You softly ask. Jake hesitates a moment before nodding his head frantically.

"Y-Yes."

You, on the other hand, do not hesitate at all. Jake instinctively spreads his legs when you climb into the car, already aiming his lap as your throne for the next 120-minute of the ride. His senses heighten, overly aware of his friends' eyes watching his every move, and the soft scent of peach from your body wash that invades his nose when your weight finally settles on him.

In a split second, Jake goes from never daring to touch you to having you resting your ass comfortably on his clothed dick, thanks to a certain Japanese who's now queueing songs like he didn't just commit a fatal crime against his Aussie hyung.

His slightly longer thighs bracket your exposed ones in a hesitant cage, every point of your skin meeting his seems to burn through the fabric of his jeans. Your hair and neck are one breath away from his nose now, where he's inhaling lungfuls of peaches and creams and your vanilla-ish perfume, and Jake chooses to blink at the ceiling to avoid looking over your shoulders and possibly flashing himself with the swell of your chest under that thin camisole top. The already-cramped space feels even smaller, and Jake doesn't think he can breathe properly.

While at it, Jake hopes his prayers could break through the car roof and reach the heavens.

God, please have mercy on me and let my other head not have a brain of its own.

God answers him shortly in the form of you shifting around.

"You comfortable?" You ask innocently, adjusting yourself on his lap. Jake nearly inhales his tongue, feeling blood rush to his ears and south. A strangled noise escapes his throat instead.

"Mhm."

From the front, he can hear a snort coming from none other than Jay. "You sound constipated, dude."

'Try having a pretty girl sit on your dick then!', is what Jake wishes he could say to his friend, but he knows that this is more of a him-problem. Someone like Jay won't get flustered in this kind of situation—at least not as bad as he is, who doesn't even fucking know where to put his hands, hovering in the air like he's about to conduct a choral speaking.

So, Jake resorts to conveying his rage through the rearview mirror instead, hoping that his glare and frown are enough to make Jay feel bad. (They don't, Jay finds him cute instead).

Jungwon comes to save the day as he turns to the backseat. "Do you have everything with you?" All of them except Jake hum. He thinks he doesn't have his sanity anymore, but of course the younger boy pretends to ignore him.

Jungwon eyes each one of his friends, his gaze stopping longer at the sight of Jake gripping the leather seat, the white of his knuckles almost matching his face, and you smiling innocently at him. Jungwon badly wants to laugh.

Jake widens his eyes at Jungwon. Help me!

The younger boy gives him an indecipherable look before turning to face the front. "Alright. We're not turning back for you even if you forgot your PlayStation."

Jake wants to say that they might want to leave a certain Sim Jaeyun to save him from this misery, but all words are gone from his mind when the car starts forward with a sharp jolt. Your back meets his chest in a soft thud, punching air out of his lungs. Your ass pushes deeper into his lap and Jake nearly pierces the leather with his nails from how desperately hard he's gripping it.

"Oops, sorry!" Jay chimes from the driver seat, sounding far from sorry.

You straighten up and turn around, looking more sorry than your cousin. "You okay? Sorry about that, Jaeyunnie."

Oh, fuck. Please don't use that voice on him when he's one bump away from kissing your lips. You're so close it feels like you're breathing in the same air he exhales, so close he can see the faint, tiny freckles dusting your cheeks and the bridge of your nose.

"Yeah," he manages, voice hoarse like he's just swallowed a bucket of sand. "I'm okay."

There's a halt in your movement, like you're actually seeing him through the calm façade he's exuding. His breath catches when your eyes drop to his lips briefly, the bitten-red skin tingles under your heated gaze.

Then, after a moment, you smile at him so easily; as if the tension never existed, as if the pull was only one-sided.

"If you say so."

When he's met with your shiny hair again, Jake lets out a breath he unknowlingly held. Your voice fills up the space softly as you begin talking to Jungwon and Jay, all cheery and unrestrained while he's exerting mental training equivalent to physical labour of a building constructor to stop his dick from hardening every time you move.

He hears a snicker from his left and immediately meets with Riki's mischievous eyes. The younger boy mouths something that has Jake closing his eyes and leaning on the headrest in defeat.

'Don't get horny now, Jake hyung.'

Jake is worried that if it's not now, it'll be the next time Jay hits a bump.

Instead of a road bump, Jake's personal enemy turns out to be you.

Ten minutes in, everything is still going fine. Jake is still breathing, alive, and hasn't popped a boner that could traumatise you and get him banned from the car permanently. You also seem okay, still engrossed in a conversation with the cat-duo driving the car, talking about college and your winter trip to Japan.

For a moment, Jake selfishly thinks if his lap was that…sitable, seeing as you haven't shown any signs of discomfort yet. Or, to be fair, it has been barely ten minutes since they're en route, and though those minutes are enough to pull the others into a car nap, ten minutes feel like one round of orbit around the Sun when he has you sitting on his lap.

Jake can feel himself melt into the seat. Maybe this isn't so bad at all. Maybe he can make it to Sokcho without having to cut his dick off before anyone could see his hard-on. He just has to sit really quietly and will his mind to avoid teetering dangerous territory.

Yeap. Everything is fine.

Not until you decide to put your hands on his thighs.

Jake almost jolts at the contact, flexing his thighs instinctively when you place your perfectly manicured fingers on the surface of his jeans. It's a brief touch, one that can pass as accidental, but the lingering heat it leaves behind feels almost physical.

His eyes dart to the back of your head, trembling with nerves nearly frayed at the edges, gauging your reaction, and bites the bottom of his lips when you resume your conversation as if nothing happened. Or nothing really happened to you.

It's just a touch, for God's sake. Calm your dick down.

If a simple touch from you could unravel him this fast, what about other things? What if you hug him, or-or if you hold his hand, or—wait, is he wishing for other things to happen between you and him? (He does, but he knows that it won't happen.)

Jake gulps harshly and decides to enjoy the scenery instead. He stares hard out the window, so intense like he's memorising every species of the trees they pass by, mind lost in a whirlwind of horny thoughts clashing with rationality, when you do something again.

This time, it isn't an innocent touch on his thigh. It's an innocent move to hear Jungwon better. You lean forward, pushing your ass deeper into his lap simultaneously, offering your ear to Jungwon who seems to be sharing a secret about Jay. Jake's breath hitches and his hands almost come up to hold your waist, the friction sending heat through his body.

Fuck. He peels his eyes away from the window forcefully and follows down the dip of your spine to where your ass meets his crotch. Your position highlights the narrow of your waist and the width of your hips, all sinful curves that have him swallowing harder, something inside his pants threatening to stir alive. Jake closes his eyes.

Think of Jesus, Jake. Think of Layla. He absentmindedly fixes his glasses. Think of quantum physics. Think of—

"—Oh!" You squirm excitedly, round butt wiggling slightly against his cock. "Yes, I met her before!"

Jake hisses before he can stop himself, the sound serving like a knife cutting the conversation. You and Jungwon instantly turn to look at him, the latter wearing a mischievous expression when he sees the heat painting Jake's face red.

"Are you okay?" You prompt in concern, noticing how stiffly Jake is nodding at you.

"Y-Yeah. Good. I'm horgoony."

Freudian slip is gonna be the death of him.

Jay and Jungwon burst out laughing, catching the slip as fast as any dirty-minded man would. Jake's face turns a darker shade of red, avoiding your eyes whose brows now pinching in confusion.

"Horgoony?" You echo, pretty confident you have never heard of that strange word spoken before. Jake immediately shakes his head, panic creeping into his chest when Jungwon shows a sign of opening his mouth.

No! Do not let that orange cat speak! Jungwon only cares about his downfall!

"I feel horribly good! Yeah," Jake stammers, to hell with any logical reasoning. "Like, I feel good because we're on a road trip. But also kind of horrible because I get motion sickness sometimes."

Now that the string of the sentences has flowed out of his mouth, Jake thinks he is kind of making sense. Satisfaction blooms in his chest when you nod in understanding, because two conflicting emotions—feeling good and horrible—can exist simultaneously, right? Like the way he wants to push you from his lap and hide in the deepest part of the Sokcho forest forever but also craves to just grab your hips and pull you close and have his way with you—wait stop.

What a horrible, horny, nothing-good man you are, Sim Jaeyun.

"That does sound horrible." Jake snaps out of his thoughts when he registers your voice, nodding fervently to amplify the faux pity that he's just orchestrated.

You give him a sorry look, the one where it pulls the corners of your mouth down into a frown. Jake sighs in relief. You bought it. Thank God for his smart brain.

"Yeah. I think I'm just gonna take a nap," he adds, voice turning softer when you still look at him in concern. He feels a strange need to overexplain.

"Motion sickness happens because your eyes see one thing while your inner ears and muscles feel another. If I take a nap, it'll eliminate the visual stimuli that causes the conflict…" Jake trails off, catching himself before he could go on and on and on on why humans experience motion sickness, and possibly bore you to death. He shakes his head imperceptibly. "So—yeah. I should take a nap."

To his surprise, you only give him a warm smile. "I never knew that, Jaeyun. Then what's the correlation between motion sickness and playing your phone in a moving vehicle?"

Jake blinks behind his glasses, genuinely taken aback that you're actually listening instead of zoning out halfway through his rambling.

"Oh. Um." He clears his throat. "It's kind of the same concept. Your eyes are focused on something stationary—your phone—but your body still feels the movement of the car."

You hum softly, leaning back against him slightly, prompting him to continue. Jake immediately forgets how lungs work.

"S-So your brain gets confused because the signals don't match," he continues weakly. "Your eyes tell your brain you're sitting still, but your inner ears are like, 'No, we're moving.' It's like mixed signals, and our body doesn't like mixed signals."

His ears are warming up from how true the words are to the situation he's having with you.

"And right now you're seeing my stationary body while the car's moving," you continue with a subtle tilt of your mouth, "so you're nauseous and all dizzy now, right?"

Jake almost chokes to death. Did you know about his little problem? He blinks at you rapidly, hand itching to touch his glasses in a fit of nerves.

Oh my God. He's going to die. He's going to die and Jungwon will write 'Sim Jaeyun was a smart friend, died a horny man with a dick that never went down, a standing ovation to his contribution to Seoul National University' as his headstone epitaph. You know about it so Jake is going to die!

He stumbles with his own words. "I-I mean—It's actually—"

You give him a cheeky smile. "I'm just joking with you, Jaeyun. You're probably sick because you're having me on your lap like this."

You start digging into your front pocket, frowning when it's empty. Jake holds his breath when your hands move to your back pocket, looking for whatever it is that gets you so determined and his dick so excited whenever your finger brushes against his crotch. Jake is almost blue from not breathing.

He thinks this time he's really going to die.

"Found it!"

You offer your palm to him, where two mint candies sit idly on the soft surface. Jake's chest slowly feels lighter as air rushes in, no longer collapsing under the pressure of your searching hand accidentally brushing against him moments ago. He clears his throat.

You beam at him. "These will soothe your sickness, Jaeyunnie. Please take them."

Jake studies your face.

Do you know what you're doing to him? Was everything done on purpose, or are you really oblivious to everything?

He swallows and forces a nod, taking the candies from your palm, feeling a spark of electricity in his system when his fingers brush your skin.

"Thank you, Y/N."

You turn your back on him, resuming your conversation with Jungwon and Jay. All sweet and cotton candy, unaware of the turmoil he's going through. Jake stares at the candies in his hand, a mocking sign to his misery, and heaves out a quiet sigh. He glances at his wristwatch.

It feels like two world wars had happened but it's only been twenty minutes into the drive. An hour and forty minutes of horny torture remains for Sim Jaeyun to endure, and he's not sure if he's going to survive.

He slowly closes his eyes. Maybe sleep can help with horniness, too.

It does, but only for a moment, because Jake could swear he just blinked when you tap his shoulder a few times.

Jake blinks, half-groggy and half-alert. Did he have a wet dream of you and get hard in his unconsciousness? Is that why you woke him up?

But he's met with your apologetic face instead. "I'm sorry for waking you up," you whisper, trying not to wake other boys who are fast asleep. "But my back's sore. Can I lean on you for a moment?"

In a flash, all incoherent thoughts fly out the window. Guilt starts lodging in his chest as he realises—glancing at his watch—that you've been sitting straight for one hour. Before he knows it, Jake is already nodding at you, adjusting his seat to accommodate the new position.

"Y-Yes, you can."

God, he's such a loser. The word 'no' seems to disappear from his dictionary whenever you're around.

You reward him with an appreciative smile and waste no time to turn around and lean back softly on him. The moment your back touches his chest, Jake can feel his system kick start, a chemical reaction that he can never understand no matter how hard he studies Biology.

You physically relax into his chest. "This is so much better," you sigh, a dreamy smile on your face, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Then you tilt your head upwards to glance at him. "Is this okay for you?"

Jake hopes you can't feel how fast his heart is beating through the fabric of his shirt. The brown-haired boy nods wordlessly. "More than okay."

For a moment, you just stare at him, brilliant eyes holding his in a soft gaze. It's a silent minute full of everything unspoken, rendering him speechless and even more restless because no matter how smart he is, he could never decipher the meaning behind this look you're giving him. There's something you hide that he feels like he should know, like an open secret waiting for the right time for him to catch.

This time, Jake is even sure that you can hear his heartbeat.

Then, as if that moment never happened, you close your eyes and get comfortable.

"We should sleep, Jaeyun. Don't want you to get carsick again."

You nuzzle closer and Jake holds his breath, feeling the silky strands of your hair brushing against his jaw. His hands hover, not knowing where to land, though the pinch of your waist is where he wants to hold the most. Eventually, Jake settles on his thighs, watching the difference between his veiny hands and the smooth span of your thighs.

Is he still sleeping? Is he dreaming or are you really sleeping on his chest?

It seems that sitting in his lap really tired you out, because you're fast asleep in less than five minutes. The guilt in his chest amplifies at the sight of your closed eyes, breathing evening out as sleep overtakes your being. Jake bites his lips.

He's so shameless, napping to avoid getting turned on instead of caring for your being. He’s so horrible, worrying more about his hard-on than the fact that you’ve been uncomfortable for an hour. Jake wants to cry so bad.

Jake spends the rest of the ride watching you sleep. He fixes your hair when it falls over your face, tucking it behind your ear carefully, and then smiles to himself when he sees your pout. He blocks the sunlight with his hand when it's glaring on your skin through the window, not minding letting his hand redden from the harsh light. He instinctively holds your waist at a sharp turn, firm and secure, though he lets go just as fast as if it burns, afraid that it's not a touch you'd receive had you been conscious.

Other than the carnal desire he has suppressed for you, this road trip also makes him realise the depth of the feelings he actually harbours for you. He's so doomed. He's so doomed because in what universe would a hot, sweet, popular California girl like yourself, return back the feelings of a bland, studious, quiet Korean-Aussie boy like him?

In fictions. In another lifetime. But not in Sim Jaeyun's current universe right now.

However, the Sim Jaeyun in this universe also will never know peace.

Because just as he's getting comfortable with the you-watching routine that he just recently discovered, the road has another plan for him when Jay finally, and actually, hits a bump this time.

The first bump is a mild surprise. Jake gathers it's a small bump, one that Jay overlooks while getting excited over Bon Jovi playing on the rodeo. But the aftermath brings you settling deeper into him, pressing on him in a way that has his breath hitching. Jake holds your waist on instinct.

"Oh my God, I didn't see that," Jay mutters from the front.

Jake tries to steady his breath. That's…a shock. One that shatters the soft atmosphere he created while watching you, now replaced with the same tension he's been fighting the last hour.

Jake lets go of your waist when he assumes that it's just a one-time thing. But then the bump happens again, and instead of a solid, big one—it's shaky, like they're sliding through endless, tiny jagged rocks.

"Damn bro, this road needs fixing," Jay makes another commentary. He glances at the rearview mirror. "You good, Jake?"

Jake doesn't know what to answer. "I think I am," he mumbles, voice clipped.

Is it good that you're practically bouncing in his lap, adding more pressure with almost no interval for him to recover mentally? He thinks not. But Jay doesn't have to know that.

"We're almost there," Jungwon chimes in, navigating the map. There's a shakiness in his voice that comes from the vibration caused by the bumps. "Fifteen minutes at most. We found a shorter route just now and traffic was smooth."

Fifteen minutes.

Jake thinks he might actually die in fifteen minutes.

Another bump sends your body rocking against him softly, your sleeping face scrunching for a brief second before relaxing. His grip tightens.

Fuck.

If Jay doesn't stop the car and fix this damn road himself then he's definitely going to pop a boner soon.

Jake squeezes his eyes shut when another bump rattles through the car, and then again, and again, and again until Jake can barely separate one sensation from another anymore. Until he doesn't know where he starts and where you end anymore. You shift unconsciously, settling heavier against his chest before Jay hits another bump.

This time, Jake makes a mistake of looking down at you.

He didn't notice it before, too lost in his sappy, romantic feelings for you. But right now, it's actually so damn obvious that the angle from where he sits taller than you and you lean against him, he can easily see your cleavage past the neckline of your camisole.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The road doesn't stop shaking beneath the tires, and so does his pulse as he watches your breasts bounce with every bump that comes their way. Jake averts his eyes, so stiff and so strained, but can't help letting his gaze drift back to watch the soft mounds shake.

This is bad. This is very, very bad, and Jake is nothing but a bad fucking pervert.

A particularly rough patch of road sends the entire car jolting. Your body bounces against him harder this time, more pressure and more friction that Jake almost whimpers. He tips his head back, gulping harshly as the line of his long neck glistens with a sheen of sweat.

Inside his jeans, he can feel his cock kick.

Oh, fuck—he's definitely hard now.

Oh my fucking God.

"This is the last one, promise!"

Jake doesn't even register Jay's words, or the way your head hits his jaw from impact, because his internal system is flooded with horny-filled panic. He can feel it: his dick twitching and getting semi-hard from the continuous stimulation from your bouncing. He doesn't even realise that he's now clawing at his own thighs, seeking strength that could neutralise his blooming lust, or that you are finally awake.

"Are we almost there?" You ask groggily, blissfully unaware of the raging boner forming under your ass. You sit up when the coastal view greets your blurry vision, mouth gaping in awe.

"Oh, wow!" You gasp, always excited to visit Sokcho no matter how many times you've been there. "It's beautiful as always!"

The road is smooth now, but Jake's final torture arrives in the form of you bouncing, excitedly and consciously, in his lap. You wiggle in enthusiasm, urging Jungwon to pass your phone that's been charging at the front to take some pictures and send it to the family groupchat.

"Jungwon, Jaeyun, look at those seagulls!"

Jake is seeing no seagulls. He's only seeing white hot, painful pleasure as you move in his lap, his brain dissolving into useless static. His fingers twitch, itching to grab your waist and force you to stay still, but you're so excited that he almost didn't have the heart to do it.

"Did you see that?" You lean to the window, and then shift happily when you spot kites in the sky. "We should do that too! Hey, Jay, do you think you can—"

Jake finally has had enough.

The restraint that he's been holding onto finally breaks like a taut wire getting cut. His hands snap to your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, hips almost bucking up from the delicious friction alone. His lips drop to the shell of your ears, hot, ragged breath brushing the sensitive skin as his voice lowers an octave.

"Y/N," Jake licks his dry lips, the tip of his tongue peeking through. He watches with dark eyes as the hair on your neck stands straight under his unforgiving proximity.

"Stop fucking moving."

And that's the moment you feel it.

A bulge, hard and rigid and big, poking your ass from where you rest in his lap.

Oh my fucking God.

Sim Jaeyun is hard.

You freeze, breath hitching.

Neither of you dare to move. Not even your excitement of being back to your uncle's beach house, or Jay's questioning look from where you cut your sentence, can bring you to move. No.

You couldn't, not when Jake's hard dick is nudging at you right now, so tangible and unmistakably his.

The brown-haired boy is still panting in your ear, shooting tingles through your system. His grip on your waist is almost bruising, like he's trying very, very hard to hold back from overstepping lines that shouldn't be overstepped.

You hadn't meant for this to happen. Sure, Jake is fun to tease. That boy is all broken words and nervous glances whenever you're in his proximity, and it can't be helped when he blushes prettily too.

You just can't stop yourself from seeking his attention in your own way, because aside from being a pretty boy, Jake is also such a sweetheart and so, so smart. And in an age where intellligence is a scarcity, you absolutely adore smart guys.

Especially the one who isn't condescending and is actually eager to help people like him.

So, really—you hadn't meant for this to happen. Offering to become the one without a seat is a decision you made when you consider yourself to be lighter than most of the guys, but offering to sit in Jake's lap is definitely a decision born from personal bias. You kind of knew what it would cause—seeing how stiff and awkward Jake had been—but you let it go halfway through when the soreness in your back outweighs your desire to tease.

Which has now brought you to this situation.

The car's still moving like nothing happened, and the boys are slowly stirring to life one by one. Everything is normal, except for the nails digging into your waist and the deep timbre in your ear.

You swallow harshly, not daring to move. Jake is so close, so close that you can feel every movement of his chest. You sit still in his hold, trying not to wince from how hard he's gripping your hips, and how hot you find the situation is.

His dick, despite no movement is being made, only hardens further. Jake gasps almost imperceptibly, almost matching the way your breath leaves your mouth when you notice, again, just how big he is.

Fuck. Fuck, that's so hot. Sim Jaeyun is so hot and you can feel yourself slowly getting turned on.

Without any warning, as if driven by an invisible force that urges to look at him, you finally turn around.

And Jake looks absolutely wrecked.

Beads of sweat dot on his forehead, the furrow of his eyebrows showing restraint and constraint. His lips are red from how hard he's biting them, and his previously clean, smooth glasses are now fogged up and hazy. His eyes, glazed over with tamed lust, lock into yours, half-lidded and dark.

A breath catches in your throat.

This is not the Jaeyun you know.

Or, more accurately, this is not the Jaeyun he usually shows.

This is another side of him, like seeing Jake wearing short-sleeves and showing his arms for the first time. Gone are his round, puppy eyes, now replaced with this narrowed, slit gaze that makes you shiver under his heated stare. He used to be so nervous around you, and you can feel that he's nervous now, too, but his pent-up sexual frustration seems to outweigh any rational daily-Jake thoughts.

This is still Sim Jaeyun. Just a different, never-before-seen side of Sim Jaeyun.

"Are we finally there?" Riki, the last one to awaken, stretches beside the two of you. You don't even notice that the car has pulled up into the driveway of Jay's ridiculously huge beach house from how piercing Jake's gaze is holding your eyes captive now.

Jake bites his lips, the fog in his head slowly clearing up now that the car has stopped. As if snapping out of a daze, he quickly maneuvers you into Riki's lap instead, showcasing his strength that he often hides. The latter yelps at the sudden weight and grabs your waist on instinct, before Jake darts out of the car without looking back.

"Sim Jaeyun! Bring your own fucking luggage!" Jay shouts from the car boot, but the brown-haired boy has already disappeared behind the door.

You sit, stunned in silence, still frozen and unable to speak. Not until Riki nudges at you, Heeseung and Sunoo impatiently asking the both of you to move so that they can get out.

"Are you okay, noona? Is hyung okay?"

You nod. You give the youngest a strained smile as you slowly move out of his lap and out of the car, careful not to start another war of hormones.

"We're okay."

The lie tastes bitter on your tongue.

Jake is avoiding you.

It's a foreseeable aftermath. It's inevitable. But it pains you regardless.

It gets to the point where he straight up refuses sitting next to you at dinner, which raises some eyebrows and teasing from the boys. But you know better.

He is deliberately avoiding you.

It frustrates you, really. Because every summer, it is your thing with Jake to sit in silence in the morning and read at the porch, enjoying the sunrise over wordless, comfortable silence. But now he purposely sleeps in, waking up later than usual, leaving you alone in the cold of dawn, your paperback copy of The Inheritance Games left untouched on your thighs.

At movie nights, he'll be the last one to join, just to see where you sit first to avoid being near you. He'll become extra quiet when you speak, acting like the floor is more interesting than your face, not even sparing you a glance.

And your patience is wearing thin. Almost thinner than the bikini you're wearing right now.

Fine. He can ignore you all he wants, act like he didn't just pop a boner after letting you sit in his lap. He can pretend like you never affected him, pretend like nothing happened, but one thing you know is that Jake could never betray his attraction for you.

So, be fucking it. You don't care if it's petty to pick the skimpiest bikini you own today, the one in hot pink that always contours the line of your cleavage, perfectly bunching up your tits and making them look rounder. The one that you know will drive Jake crazy from how bouncy your ass looks, basically confirmed when his eyes can't seem to stop trailing after you even after you dive into the pool.

You come to the surface with a gaping mouth, letting the water slide down the lines on your body, and make no show of hiding yourself from looking straight at Jake.

That coward has the nerves to look away after staring at you like a touch-deprived teenager.

"Is Sim Jaeyun single?"

The reason why you always agree to join the all-boys road trip is because it's not exactly all-boys. There are girls who live nearby. Girls you're acquainted with from how often you follow your cousin to his beach house every summer. Spoiled rich girls whose parents come from the same tax bracket as your and Jay's family.

And one of those girls is shamelessly checking Jake out now, hungry eyes drinking in the way his wet, long-sleeved shirt sticks to his torso, outlining the faint lines of his abdomen that he never shows. She's sitting on the edge of the pool, feet-dipping while you take a break from your swim.

You narrow your eyes, an ugly spark of jealousy blooming in your chest. You don't like the implication of the question, and you absolutely hate the way she's looking at him now.

"Don't even think about it."

Your neighbour only shrugs and continues her eye-fucking. "He's so my type. So nerdy, so smart. I wonder how he'll look like without the glasses?"

You will poke her eyes before she gets the chance to. "Use your own imagination," you hiss, almost bitter when you realise that you also have barely seen him without his glasses.

Jake has sensitive eyes that react badly to contact lenses, which explains his preference for thick glasses than going out without them. Even now, when everyone is fooling around Jay's enormous pool, his thick, black-rimmed glasses perch on the bridge of his tall nose—the nose you hope you can put into good use one day.

The girl only hums, half-listening to you. She sighs dreamily. "I can't believe that I have his number."

At this point, the jealousy has turned so ugly you're actually seeing green. Or red. Or whatever that Cortis song sounds like. "You have his number?"

She finally pays attention to you. "Yeap! I asked him yesterday. I don't know what I should say to start the conversation though," she pouts, glancing back at Jake who's now sitting on the side with Sunghoon, sipping on coconut water. "Should I ask him if I can join dinner at your house tonight?"

Jake gave his number to her?

You grit your teeth. The hurt has materialised into a knife, twisting in your chest in a sharp pain disguised in jealousy. So, while Jake's been avoiding you like a fucking plague, he's been spending his time giving away his number to any curious girl? He's been talking with other girls while leaving you with radio silence, one that you didn't deserve because it was him who popped that boner?!

You are the one who's supposed to ignore him—not the other way around!

What a fucking loser.

You can't stop the bitterness from leaking through your voice when you finally speak.

"It's me and Jay that you should ask—not Sim Jaeyun. And no, you cannot join dinner at my house tonight."

You leave her dumbfounded by the pool, seething in anger that the water on your skin could steam from the heat alone. You march to the slide doors, giving Jake and Sunghoon the nastiest side-eye you could ever give when the latter calls out to you, and slam the door behind.

Whatever. Or not whatever. Sim Jaeyun is a fucking pervert and a jerk and a coward, and stupidly hot while being so oblivious to how hot he actually is. Whatever! You don't care.

You don't care that he barely speaks a word to you. You don't care that he leaves any room you walk into. You don't care that he's flirting with other girls and giving away his number willingly when you had his on default for being Jay's younger cousin, and from Jay himself at that.

The corner of your eyes burn.

You wish you didn't care.

You're ignoring Jake.

Jake knows this the moment you no longer come to the porch to read. Instead, every morning is now spent in the garden with Jungwon, tending to Jay's mom's flowers. After, you'll brew some hibiscus tea that you pluck from the garden and share it with Sunoo and Riki.

And when he walks into the kitchen to get some food, you no longer meet his eyes, or save that apple that he knows you know he likes to eat for breakfast. You let Heeseung eat all of them! It's so—so unfair, because he likes apples and you know it!

It sends Jake to the end of a cliff. Why are you suddenly being like this?

His sanity is stretching thin as he tries to work his brain. Why the sudden change? Is it because of his silence? But he's just embarrassed to face you! Or—did you find out about it?

Genuine horror floods his mind when he thinks, oh no, you must've realised how disgusting he truly is. How dirty-minded and perverted he is, that every day he has to take cold showers three times a day whenever he catches a glimpse of you.

You in your sleepwear. You in your casual shirt. You in shorts.

You in bikini.

Jake has fallen out of any point of salvation, because God, could any man get this horny just from a mere look? In the back of his mind, he knows it's the image of you sitting in his lap that ignited the beginning of his undoing, but the continuous hard-on he gets whenever he's around you is definitely, entirely on him.

And Jake, oh so sweet Jake, doesn't dare touch himself to the thought of you. No. He'd rather leave his balls blue, take cold showers every morning, every evening, and every night, and let his dick go from standing tall like a national anthem was being played to becoming flaccid under the cold water without any action. He doesn't even have the guts to touch his own fucking dick, the guilt blocking him from doing anything to relieve himself.

So—did you find out about it? Because if you did, then Jake could understand the cold shoulders you're giving him.

But Jake is a mere man—maybe a bit perverted, and a bit too horny despite his image, so he couldn't stop himself from getting hard the moment he sees you walking into the living room in nothing but an oversized white tee that falls off your shoulder. He grabs the nearest cushion and places it on top of his crotch, blood already rushing south when he sees the strap of your black bra.

This is why he has to go to church sometimes; to balance everything out. Because Einstein never talked about the solution or formula to cure men's (Jake's) sexual desires that seem endless. And sexual desires that come from seeing a strap of a bra alone.

Whatever it is, Jake's soul has almost left his body, already tuning out of his surroundings. He doesn't even realise that Jay and Riki are wrestling for the TV remote, and accidentally sending said remote flying onto the floor just a few feet away from him.

He only comes to when you stand in front of him, back facing him, and bend over to pick up the remote.

You. Bend. Over. In. Front. Of. Him.

In a second, Jake has a full view of your ass. The shirt rides up slightly, revealing white shorts that stretches across the round flesh as you bend over to reach the remote and Jake feels like he's brought back to the car when he was fighting demons as you unintentionally ground his crotch with every movement.

His grip on the cushion tightens, head dizzy from the way you practically shove your butt in his face.

Jake releases a shaky exhale.

He can see the outline of your panties and wonders if it matches your black bra.

And he can see the outline of his doomed future if he stays in the living room any longer.

"Whose turn is it to pick the movie?" You casually ask, now straightening up as if you just didn't flash Jake with your perky ass.

"Jake hyung," Jungwon replies from the center of the long couch, carding his hand through Sunoo's silky hair, the blonde who's now laying down his head on his lap. "It's his turn."

Your face remains expressionless as you turn to the glasses boy. But instead of taking the remote from your hand, Jake stands up, avoiding eye contact and clutching the cushion tight over his crotch.

"I-I suddenly feel sick! Gonna skip tonight's movie, bye!"

Then he flees the living room, leaving behind six confused men and one very angry, very upset girl.

Jake thinks he deserves a medal for surviving the living room.

Or perhaps an exorcism.

The moment his bedroom door clicks shut behind him, Jake drops the cushion onto the floor and drags both hands down his face with a groan. His glasses nearly fall off his nose in the process.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

He paces once across the room, then twice.

Outside, he can still hear the muffled sounds of the movie downstairs—Riki yelling dramatically at a character, Sunoo complaining about spoilers, Jay laughing too loudly. Normal sounds. Normal people.

Meanwhile Jake feels like he's one accidental glimpse of your shoulder away from committing a crime.

His eyes squeeze shut.

That white shirt.

The black bra strap.

The way you bent over in front of him so casually, completely unaware that Jake nearly ascended right there on Jay's living room couch.

"Fuck," he whispers weakly to himself.

Jake drops onto the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees.

Maybe he should take another cold shower. That would make four today.

"I should sleep," he mutters to himself, breath shaky. "S-Sleep can help with motion sickness and horniness."

With a newfound resolution, he turns off the lamp and settles under the blanket. His movement is stiff and awkward, overly aware of the tent straining his shorts. Once he pulls the blanket over his chest, Jake closes his eyes, forcing sleep into his system.

Only, the image of you swimming in your hot pink bikini flashes behind his eyelids.

"No, stop. Not that," he whispers, brows scrunching in protest. He shakes his head, as if physically removing the image away, and tries again.

This time, the image of you in his lap comes back, stripped down to heated skin and soft breaths, your body moving against his in ways that make his stomach twist.

His eyes fly open. The image is so clear and vivid, thanks to his photographic memory and insane imagination—the very thing that's been saving him in the academic department now serving as the tool that brings him to his downfall.

His cock twitches involuntarily.

"N-No," he pants, chest moving rapidly. He grips the edge of the blanket, knuckles turning white. "I—Stop—"

Then he remembers just now: you bent over, giving him a delicious access to his ass-shaped sufferings, and Jake almost whimpers from the flashback alone.

The room rises in temperature, the air conditioner doing nothing to tone down the feverish lust spreading through his body. Jake finally relents and discards the blanket, glasses all fogged up as he stares at the bulge under his shorts.

"I'm sorry," he whimpers, slipping off his shorts and boxers until they bunch up around his knees. "I'm so fucking sorry."

His cock springs free, standing tall in the dimness of his room. The tip glistens, already drooling with precum that shows no sign of stopping. With shaky hands, hesitance still edging around his lust, Jake finaly touches himself.

He has to bite down hard on his lips to muffle the sound threatening to escape. His hand stutters, the feeling of finally rubbing some relief after days of holding back comes crashing down on him. His head spins from how heavy his cock is in his hold, veins protuding like they're going to combust.

He slowly starts moving his hand, lathering up precum to ease the glide. His head tips back, a strangled sound catches behind his throat.

"Oh, God," his head spins, sparks of lust bursting at the tip of his fingers. "Oh, fuck—"

Through his hazy gaze of the blurry lenses, Jake tightens his grip slightly. A moan escapes his lips at the force, his cock only getting heavier in his hand. He plays with the mushroom tip of his dick, thumbing the slit and hissing when it sends pleasure up his spine.

"Ngh—" his eyes squeeze shut, brain putting up pieces of his memory of you. His body jerks when the rough pad of his thumb touches the underside of his cock, and as if on cue, the image of your jiggly breasts inside the car flashes behind his closed eyes.

"Fuck—Y/N," Jake sobs, picking up his pace. His wrist turns and flicks, biceps flexing hard at the speed he's going. Guilt starts accumulating inside his chest the more he thinks of you, of your voice, of your gaze, of your scent—but guilt isn't enough to stop Jake from chasing his own release.

"'So sorry," he chokes, letting go of his bottom lip, bitten-red and swollen. He imagines it was your hand instead of his, smaller and softer, with those manicured nails that he loves so much. How tiny your hand would look around his hard dick, trying to grip his length in its fully erect state.

Jake isn't inexpereinced. He's had his own fair share of sexcapades with a few people, and he's always been told that he's bigger than average. The big dick that he hides under his pants, further concealed by his nervous persona that only certain girls find cute.

But seeing his state right now, Jake thinks he's the furthest thing from cute.

He's pathetic.

Pathetic and gross and disgusting, feeling bad for jerking off to the thoughts of you but still unable to retract his hand and stop. The sound of his cries that he fails to hide fills up the space, and for the first time in days he's very glad that he won paper-rock-scissors during room assignment.

"Oh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," he chants, mouth gaping open when he can feel himself close. His wrist is already tired and numb from the relentless pace he's set, the slick sound of his sinful act matching the roar of his blood rushing in his ears.

"Please, please, 'm gonna cum," he sobs, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. His hips lift off the mattress. "Please—"

"Do not fucking cum, Sim Jaeyun."

Jake's entire body locks up.

His wrist stills immediately, pleasure crashing into horror so fast it makes his stomach twist. For a second, he genuinely thinks his heart stops beating.

The room goes dead silent except for his ragged breathing.

Through fogged-up lenses and teary eyes, Jake stares at you standing by the door, unable to process the fact that you're actually here.

That you heard him.

That you saw him.

Oh my fucking God.

His hand jerks away from himself like he’s been burned, chest heaving violently as he scrambles to sit up straighter. The blanket tangles around his legs from how abruptly he moves.

"I—"

Nothing comes out.

Jake has never felt this level of humiliation before.

Not when he failed his chemistry olympiad in tenth grade. Not when he tripped in front of his entire lecture hall. Not even when Jungwon found his hidden Pokémon card collection at nineteen.

This is worse. So much worse.

Because it's you.

You, standing there in that oversized white shirt slipping off your shoulder again, eyes dark and unreadable as you look at him sprawled across the bed like something shameful.

Jake feels sick. His face burns so hot he thinks he might actually pass out.

"S-Sorry," he chokes out instinctively, because apologising is the only thing his brain knows how to do right now. "I didn't—I wasn't—I—"

His voice cracks miserably.

Jake is going to cry.

What should he even say in this situation? Sorry that you caught him jerking off to you? Sorry that he's such a nerd, such a loser that the only time he could talk smoothly with you was when he was defining what motion sickness was, but never had the courage to tell you how much he likes you and how much you affect me? Sorry that he's such a pervert that he thinks of you in positions way too inappropriate to be just friends?

The weight of his arousal sits heavy against his thigh, a testament to a newfound, lifelong embarrassment that he'll carry to his grave.

Jake squirms under your heated gaze, and quickly covers his crotch with his blanket when you slip into his bedroom wordlessly. The door clicks shut, the sound amplified by the heavy silence hanging in the air. His body tenses up.

Oh my God—he messed up, didn't he? Jake hangs his head low in shame, tears gathering along his lashlines.

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to…"

His vision turns blurry. Fuck, you must hate him now.

"I-It's wrong—I know that—I'm sorry—ah!"

Jake looks up in surprise when your bold hand cups his erection. There's angry lines in your forehead, a sneer on your mouth, but the nasty look you're giving him does nothing to soothe down his arousal.

If anything, twisted as it is—it turns him on even more.

"Couldn't even look me in the eye downstairs," you begin, "but you here you are, jerking off to me like I wouldn't find out?"

The venom in your voice hurts him. You're being mean with your words, and it hurts his feelings but Jake couldn't care less. His mind is a messy jumbles of guilt and pleasure and shame, so all he does is cry and shake his head.

"I-I'm sorry, Y/N—"

"Are you really sorry?" you tighten your grip on his cock, one knee dipping into the mattress. "Your dick doesn't seem sorry though."

Jake wants to cry—oh, he's already crying. His hand curls into the sheets beneath him, unable to form coherent words when you start rocking the heel of your palm on his hard-on. The friction from the blanket and the pressure from your hand only spark electric pleasure through his system.

Within seconds, Jake is all hard again—even harder than before.

"Tell me, Jaeyunnie. Did all of this happen because I sat in your lap?"

Jake whimpers pathetically. You knew. Of course you knew. You're not only hot and pretty and kind, you're also smart like him, so in tune with your surroundings. You're a little mean right now, but it's okay because Jake believes that he deserves this after avoiding you without any explanation.

"Answer me, Sim Jaeyun."

"Yes," he croaks, shame burning his face red. His eyes screw shut. The admission sets his being on fire, skin flushed from embarrassment. "O-Oh, God, y-yes."

He cracks one eye open when you don't reply. Instead, he's met with your fiery gaze. The edges have softened with lust, like you're also affected by this, but you're good at keeping your control.

Unlike him, who's unraveling like a loose thread under your touch alone.

Jake almost whines when you retract your hand, but the sound is muffled with a gasp when you yank the blanket open. He instinctively closes his crotch area with his hands, but you're fast to slap his wrists away.

"I'm so pissed off, Jaeyun," you mutter, swinging your leg over his thighs so now you're straddling him. You fix him with your sharp eyes, hand finding his dick again.

"You've been acting like we're strangers and it hurts me so bad."

Jake's mouth hangs open as you gather his precum and start working your wrist around his cock. His brain barely registers your words, too lost in a cloud of lust, but when he finally processes it, he desperately shakes his head.

He wants to apologise again and again and again, because he is truly sorry—he didn't know how affected you were. How could he not, when you're always described as everything out of his league, but he's always described as everything that doesn't fit your type?

"I'm sorry, I was just—fuck—just ashamed—" he gasps, hips bucking into your touch. "Didn't mean to—t-to hurt y—ngh, Y/N, faster please."

You coo at him, feigning sympathy as you set a ruthless pace on his cock. Jake is big—something that isn't a surprise anymore since that day you sat in his lap—but the sheer size of him is enough to make your mouth water and your panties damp.

Damn these nerdy boys. Acting all shy and innocent when they have this monstrousity hiding behind those ugly glasses.

"Faster? You wanna cum, Jaeyunnie?" you tilt your head. Jake nods frantically. "I don't think you deserve it, though. Why not ask from those girls you gave your number to?"

Something sharp twists in his stomach. Jake's eyes fly open, almost cowering when you give him a distasteful look. He grabs your arms desperately and shakes his head.

"N-No! She asked me first—" you put more pressure and Jake damn near loses his mind. "—said she needs—help—w-with Physi—cs—"

You roll your eyes. It's that easy to fool him? Can't he see the way those girls fuck him with their eyes? Without waiting for his sentence to finish, you sink down and take him in your mouth.

"Oh, fuck!" Jake screams, accidentally thrusting up his hips. He bites his lips, glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose as you take him deeper, tracing the line of his veins with your sinful tongue. "Oh, Y/N—please."

You hum around his length, tongue swirling as you hollow your cheeks to deepen the suction. Jake nearly busts from that alone, mind melting into a puddle of your name, the wet heat of your mouth serving as a better pleasure than his own hand.

You start bobbing your head up and down, marveling in the way the weight of his dick sits on your tongue. He's so big that you're so close to choking, but you don't care. You need to remind Jake how stupid he's been acting and how stupid he is if he thinks that you were not just as attracted toward him.

Jake sobs into his hands, hips jerking with every touch of his tip hitting the back of your throat. His head is getting dizzier, he can feel the coil in his stomach getting tighter and he knows that anytime soon, he will come undone on your skillful tongue.

But just as he's about to reach that high, you let go of him with a pop.

"No!" Jake whines, tears sliding down his cheeks. You're so mean. "P-Please let me cum."

"Not yet, nerdy boy." You mutter, red lips slick with saliva and precum. Jake can only sob, dick throbbing in need and desperation.

This is the punishment he deserves for being a jerk. He knows that, but he can't seem to stop crying. God, he's so pathetic.

Then he feels movement on his thighs. He blinks through the foggy lenses and lets out a breathless moan when you lift up your shirt and shorts and discard them away, leaving you in nothing but a pair of bra and panties. His mouth starts salivating at the display of your beautiful body, and Jake swears he almost cums when he sees that you're indeed wearing black panties.

Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Just as he imagined—God, you're so perfect he wants to kiss you.

But instead of a kiss, you push his at his chest instead. "Lie down."

And like the obedient puppy that he is, Jake follows your word, carefully descending his back onto the mattress. He's still sniffling from the previous denial, but now it's mixed with anticipation of what's to come when you hover above him.

You trace a gentle finger along the tall bridge of his nose, a barely-there touch that makes him shiver. With a slow tap on the tip of his nose, you finally speak.

"Did anyone ever ride your nose, Jaeyunnie?"

H-His nose?

Girls always compliment his nose, but he's never given it many thoughts as to why they did that. "N-No. Never."

There's a wicked smile on your face as you stand on your knees. Jake watches with a mouth gaping open as you make a show of shimmying down your panties, painfully and traitorously slowly that he almost rips it with his hand.

"Ah, what a shame," you sigh dreamily. "Guess I have to be the first one then."

Once your panties are out of the picture, Jake is instanly hit with a wave of your arousal. Your pussy glistens under the moonlight, soaked with slick and dripping with need. Jake inhales shakily, stopping himself from darting out his tongue to get a taste.

Fuck. He's sure he has actually died in the car and this is heaven because not even in his wildest dream did he get to have you like this.

Too lost in his reverie, Jake belatedly notices that you have removed his glasses. Despite your mean words and your mean actions, the caresses of your thumb on his cheeks are so gentle that he thinks he's hallucinating.

"You're so handsome, Jaeyun," you murmur. "But I bet you'll look better buried between my thighs."

You give him no time to recover from your crude words when you slowly move to straddle his head. Then, with a hand in his hair, you descend, letting the tip of his nose nudge at your clit.

And oh my fucking God—you smell so divine.

"Ah, Jaeyunnie," you moan, rocking your hips slowly to test the waters. "Your nose feels so good."

You sound even more divine. Jake's eyes roll to the back, savouring the way your sinful moans fall on his ears as you use his nose to get off. The bridge of his nose slides through your folds—wet and sticky and so sweet that he can't get enough of it.

Jake wraps his arms around your thighs to give you support, and another moan escapes your lips upon seeing his veiny arms around your supple skin. He stares at you through half-lidded eyes, groaning despite your cunt suffocating him, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure to your system.

"Ngh—Jaeyun—"

He can't breathe, and he can't hear properly from how hard you're clamping his head with your legs, but he can't deny that this is the best way to die. Being suffocated by your leaking pussy sounds like a dream death compared to dying in Jay's old SUV.

You keep your rhythm, rocking your hips back and forth, grinding your clit on his nose and dragging your folds on the tall bridge until the sharp tip of his nose catches at your hole. The grip you have in his hair hurts his scalp, but everything is worth the pain when Jake can watch you fall apart on his face, his own cock pulsing with a trembling need to cum.

"Ah—ah—Jaeyun oppa—"

Fuck. Fuck that sacred nickname.

The dynamics between you two often makes Jake forget the fact that he is indeed older than you. Coming from the States, it's uncommon for you to address people with such honorifics.

But right now, using that very honorific against him ignites something inside him; a carnal desire that's been thrumming low in his guts, waiting to be unleashed.

This time, Jake barely stops himself from stealing a taste. He darts out his tongue, prodding your hole with the tip, and hums in satisfaction when your stance falters slightly.

"Don't," you hiss, but there's no heat in it. Jake takes it as a sign to continue, licking more into your weeping cunt until your pace turns sloppy.

He doesn't care. You're probably gonna be so mad at him and punish him more, but whatever it is you have prepared can wait. Right now, Jake is having the best pussy of his life—barely breathing but still eating so, so fucking well.

"Jaeyun—stop—"

"No," Jake protests when you try to get up, pulling you down until the full weight of your body rests on his face.

Oh God, choking on pussy has never felt so good.

"Sim Jaeyun!" You squirm, feeling the stirring inside your belly getting wilder. Despite your weak attempts, your hips keeps grinding on his nose, showing no signs of stopping. You throw your head back.

You knew his nose would be the best thing to ride on, but hearing the slurps of your slick and his saliva—the sinful noises of him feasting on your cunt—makes you almost regret not letting him eat you out first.

"Ngh—Jaeyun—I'm close—"

Jake pulls your hips harder, letting you grind your clit on the tip of his nose as his tongue pushes into your hole mercilessly. You let out a high-pitched scream, muscles pulling tight at his ministrations. The double stimulations are fast pushing you over the edge.

Soon, white hot pleasure crashes into you, your vision turning black momentarily. It's so blurry and messy that you haven't realised that you've been screaming his name raw, hips unrelenting to chase the high. Jake swallows every drop of your sweet nectar, moaning into your spasming hole as he licks it clean.

Fuck. He's already desperate to have another round.

When you come down from your orgasm, hair matted to your forehead, you look down at him furiously.

"Let me go! I told you not to do it!" You attempt to sit up, but Jake doesn't let go, shaking his head with a pout. His nose and chin are drenched with your release, it's so sinful and filthy and you can't lie that you like seeing him so wrecked and fucked over like this.

"Can I have more? Please," he begs, kissing your inner thigh unhurriedly. He's already so addicted to the taste of you, Jake thinks he's gonna die if he doesn't have another fill. "I'll be so good to you, Y/N. Wanna eat you out so bad."

You grit your teeth, pushing away the temptation to save your pride. "No. Get up, Jaeyun."

But Jake is stubborn. He's so desperate to have more of you that he doesn't mind if he's leaving his own cock neglected and balls blue. "Please, I need it bad," he nudges at your pussy with his finger, pupils blown wide at the strings of sticky cum decorating your folds. "Fuck, please, Y/N, I want to eat you out."

"I said get up, Jaeyun."

"Y/N—"

"Jake."

The sharpness in your voice cuts through the haze instantly.

Jake stills immediately.

The desperation in his eyes flickers into something softer, more uncertain, like a scolded puppy finally realising he’s crossed a line. His grip on your thighs loosens at once, chest rising and falling hard beneath you.

The sound of his English name on your tongue feels foreign and almost painful, because it lacks the usual warmth and intimacy that your 'Jaeyun' usually holds. Yet, something inside him pulses harder, liking the change more than he'd like to admit.

“S-Sorry,” he whispers automatically, voice rough. “I just…”

He doesn’t even know how to explain it. How could he? That hearing you moan his name made him lose every coherent thought in his brain? That he’s spent days trying to stay away from you only to end up here, beneath you, completely ruined anyway?

You study him for a long moment before finally shifting off his face.

“Sit up.”

Jake obeys instantly.

The movement is clumsy and needy. His hair is a mess, lips swollen, face still flushed from lack of oxygen and desire. Without his glasses, his eyes look unbearably open like this—too honest, too vulnerable.

You cup his jaw gently, the touch losing its cruelty. Jake melts into it.

"There he is," you murmur softly, fixing his bangs that are obscuring his eyesight.

Jake can feel his heart stutter traitorously. This version of you—tender and sweet—a glimpse of the usual-you, is always more dangerous than any teasing.

Wordlessly, you tug at his shirt, and Jake obediently holds up his arms to let you peel away the fabric. Your eyes flick downward, amusement tugging at your lips.

"You know," you start, fingers trailing slowly down his sculpted chest, "for someone who acted terrified of touching me in the car…"

He groans softly, already embarrassed.

"…You were pretty damn desperate down there, Jaeyun."

His face burns hotter. Fine, he's just a touch-starved man, desperate for you in every way possible. But how could he not? Have you even looked at yourself?

"I-I can't help it…" His eyes drop to your lips. "You tasted so good."

A breathy chuckle escapes you, quiet and fond. But to Jake's ears, he's already hearing the wedding bells chime.

And suddenly the humiliation twisting in his chest eases into something warmer when you climb into his lap again, turning slowly until your back presses against his chest.

The exact same position. That fucking position in the car that has his mind on an endless frenzy that he thinks he was genuinely getting crazy.

Jake goes completely still beneath you.

“Oh,” you whisper, settling against him deliberately. “Now you’re quiet again?”

His hands hover uncertainly near your hips, like he still can’t believe he’s allowed to touch you.

“You’re mean,” he mumbles weakly against your shoulder. You laugh, one hand patting his hair as the other one aligning his neglected cock on your entrance.

"But I know you like it, Jaeyunnie."

At the same time you presses on the nickname, you sink onto his cock slowly, letting the bulbous head of his length spear you open.

The both of you moan simultaneously. Jake's hands find puchase on your waist, trying his best to stop from manhandling you to just fucking bounce on his dick and letting you adjust. You, on the other hand, let the stretch burn, your walls spasming to accommodate his length.

"S-So big," you stutter, taking him inch by inch. Jake drops his head on your shoulder, his own breathing ragged. "So—full—"

When he finally fits inside you to the brim, you let out a long, drawn-out moan. He fills you up so good that you can feel every vein against your walls, every pulse kissing your insides. It's a dizzying experience that prompts you to start moving your hips.

Jake’s fingers dig into your waist, trembling.

Not because he wants to stop you.

Because he’s trying so hard not to lose himself completely.

The position alone is enough to send him spiraling—your back against his chest, your body in his lap exactly like the car ride, except now there’s no seatbelt digging into his side, no boys teasing from the front seat, no restraint left between the two of you.

Just you and him.

And the devastating realisation that you wanted him too.

Jake lets out a broken sound against your shoulder when you move again, his forehead falling against your skin. His entire body feels feverish, overwhelmed by too much sensation and too many emotions crashing into him at once.

"Wasn't this what got you so hard, Jaeyunnie?" You pant between breathless moans. "Me in your lap, bouncing on your cock like this?"

"Ngh—" A strangled noise escapes his throat. Jake watches with bated breath as your hands find the clasp of your bra and finally let the two soft mounds free. Now, he badly wants you to turn around, eager to relive the scene of your bouncy breasts in Jay's car.

"Did you not—ah—crave this?"

You arch your back, pleasure tingling every nerves as his cock drags against your walls. Jake feels his dick throb inside your hole, the same position that ruined him now had him completely at your mercy.

"S-So tight," he whimpers, mouth falling open at the way you clench around his cock and roll your hips. "S-So fucking tight, Y/N, fuck."

Jake clings onto you desperately, bucking his hips to chase your movement. But you hold down a firm hand on his thigh, completely in charge.

"Don't," you warn, grinding down on him in a way that makes your ass ripple. "Or I'll get up and leave."

Jake freezes instantly.

The warning slices straight through him, sharp and effective. His hands tighten on your waist, but he forces his hips back against the mattress despite every instinct screaming at him to chase you harder.

“O-Okay,” he breathes quickly. “Okay. Sorry.”

God, he sounds wrecked.

You can feel the way his thighs tremble beneath yours, the strain in his breathing every time you move your hips slowly against him. Jake drops his forehead between your shoulder blades with a weak groan, like simply holding himself back is physically painful.

"I'm still mad at you," you murmur. You roll your hips again, faster this time, and Jake nearly whimpers into your shoulder. His jaw clenches so hard he might pop a vessel.

"Are you sure you're not the one—" you moan, your thighs burning from how fast you're exerting yourself. The wet sound of skin hitting skin starts getting louder the harder you slam down your hips. "The one who's being—mean?"

Jake sobs into your skin, half-regretting, half-dizzy. The tight heat of your cunt pulses and flutters around his dick and he genuinely feels horrible for only thinking using his other head now.

Even so, he still manages to apologise again. "I'm s-sorry—"

You clench around him on purpose. Jake digs his nails deeper. "Fuck—"

"Stop fucking apologising," you seethe, voice trembling as you feel your release getting near. "Delete her number or I'll sit in Sunghoon's lap when we get back to Seoul."

There's no bite in your threat. It's just a spur-of-the-moment kind of things, one that you say just to rile him up.

But Jake takes your words like a verdict. He snakes an arm around your waist, lips worshipping your skin in desperate, wet kisses.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, darling," he begs, tears clinging to his lashes. He bites his lips in an attempt to stop himself from moaning because he's so, so close. "I will block her. Fuck—I will delete her number. P-Please don't sit with S-Sunghoon—"

His speech is interrupted by a high-pitched whine. Jake hasn't come all night, he's nothing more than a thread waiting to snap. The moment you bounce harder and faster, the supple skin of your butt jiggling wilder, Jake can feel that he's about to come.

"Y/N—ah—p-puh—lease—" he whimpers, voice scratching at his throat. "'M close, 'm g-gonna cum—"

But he should've known that you're so, so mean.

The moment you lift off his cock, Jake genuinely sobs out loud, thrashing under you.

"No! No, please—" he chokes, hiding his crying face behind his hands, too shattered when his orgasm being denied again. "Please, no—I wanna cum, please."

You turn around and the sight of him—red-faced, wet cheeks, lips trembling—it softens your heart. You quickly pull his wrists and rest his hands on your hips, your own cupping his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, baby," you shush him, blowing kisses to the tip of his nose as you take him again. Jake whimpers quietly. "I'm so sorry—I'll let you cum this time, hm?"

Jake weakly nods, then lets out a soft moan at the familiar feeling of your walls enveloping him. You move again, already sore, but you no longer have it in you to torture your poor, poor Jaeyun. This time, you immediately begin with a fast pace, giving him a show of your tits bouncing with every thrust.

"Ah—fuck—Jaeyunnie—" you bite your lips, expression so erotic that it has the brown-haired boy drooling. "Glasses—like you better with glasses."

Jake is too dazed to register your words, so you pick the glasses on your own and put them on him. And there he is—your sweet, sweet boy, your Jaeyunnie that you adore so much, your Jaeyun that thinks it's bad for wanting you this much.

"S-So—handsome, Jaeyunnie," you roll your hips, chest arching into his face. "My nerdy boy, you're mine, hm?"

Jake physically cannot take it anymore. The sight of you on top of him, bouncing on his cock like your life depends on it, putting on his glasses and calling him yours—it's too much for Sim Jaeyun who's never been given this kind of attention and affection.

Especially from you.

His lips move, but you can barely hear him.

"Hm? What did you say?"

"I said I'm sorry, Y/N," his nails dig into your waist. "I'm so fucking sorry, please don't be mad at me."

Your brows furrow in confusion, but before you know it, Jake is already flipping you around, changing your position in one swift movement. You have half a second to gain your breath before the boy hovering over you pulls you closer by your ankles and throws your legs over his shoulders.

"I'm s-sorry," Jake stutters, slipping his dick back into your cunt and starts thrusting fast. "I-I can't hold it anymore."

Despite the showcase of his strength, Jake looks absolutely ruined. There's a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but from the pace he's railing you, you know that his lust ovverrides whatever little guilt he has.

Soon enough, the air smells so thickly of sex. The sound of his balls slapping your ass, accompanied by your high-pitched moans and his groans are the only one filling up the space, to the point that you're sure one of the boys must've heard you.

It's so hot and filthy that Jake's glasses are all fogged up again. His grip on your waist is now leaving bruises, but you don't care because all you can think of is Jake, Jake's big cock, Jake's stupid glasses and just Jake, Jake, Jake.

"F-f-f-fuck," he exhales shakily, splitting you open with his cock. "I-I'm so—close—"

You thrash around, fisting the sheets until it tears from the force of your nails. "Jaeyun—" you gasp when he keeps abusing that spot that has you seeing stars. "Oh, fuck—Jaeyun—harder—"

Jake leans forward, straining his arms on either side of your head. His glasses slide down his slick nose slightly when he bends down to capture your lips in his thick ones. You both moan into the kiss, finally getting the taste of each other, tongues already clashing for more.

Jake licks into your mouth, hips never faltering, and sucks on your bottom lip. You whimper, the sensation becoming too much until you're just breathing against his lips, all heat and teeth and saliva. Jake groans.

"I-I'm gonna—cum—" he gasps against your mouth, face scrunching in pleasure when you clench around him. "O-Oh my fucking God, Y/N, fuck—please let me cum inside."

His hands find your waist again, thrusting harder than before. His head drops to your shoulder as he begs, again and again.

"P-Please let me cum inside, please," he whimpers, voice needy and whiny. "Please—I'm gonna—I wanna—"

"Just cum," you moan when his teeth scrape against your skin. "Jae—Jaeyunnie—"

Jake groans. With last few, deliberate thrusts, he finally cums—a full-body orgasm that has him shuddering, his cock spurting out rope after thick rope of his release, painting your walls white.

You follow him just a second after, vision blurring for a moment as your second orgasm rips through your body. Your mouth falls open on a silent scream, eyes rolling back from how delicious your climax is.

Jake takes a long moment breathing into your ear, grinding his hips slowly before he's finally pulling out. He hisses as he drags out his cock, careful not to overstimulate you, and watches in awe as white fluid flowing out of your pulsing cunt.

"Oh my fucking God."

You breathe out a laugh, sounding breathless and disbelieving. Seeing Jake sitting still by your legs, you open your arms toward him.

"C'mere, Jaeyunnie. Let's cuddle for a moment before washing up—I'm too sore to walk."

Jake perks up at that. Gone is the hungry, lust-driven boy a few moments ago, now replaced with the shy, kicked puppy holding his tail between his legs.

"Cuddle?" he echoes, unsure. "Are you not mad at me?"

"I could never be mad at you for too long," you reply, giving him a reassuring smile.

It gives Jake a flicker of hope. He scoots closer, still cautious and observing, like approaching a scared animal.

"But I avoided you…"

You drop your arms and pretend to think, making a show of tapping your chin with a finger.

"You're right. You were mean for that. Why don't you carry me to the bathroom and clean me up so we can cuddle afterwards?"

Hearing that, Jake finally relaxes, his tight muscles loosening. With an eager smile, he scoops an arm under your knees and your back, and then lifts you up easily as if you weigh nothing.

"Your wish is my command, my princess."

The next morning, you receive knowing looks from the boys. There are lingering stares on your neck from where Jake was mauling your skin last night, but you have no problem showing them off.

Jake, on the other hand, is on the edge of another breakdown.

"So, Jake," Jay starts, already planning a mischievous teasing inside his head. "How did it feel like to get railed—"

"I did not get railed!" he squeaks, ears blushing red. "I-I was the one who railed her! Right, Y/N?"

There's a laugh bubbling inside your chest as you watch Jake squirm under the relentless teasing of his friends. It felt good to be the one in charge, but after that display of strength and the way he manhandled you last night?

You don't mind having him on top of you.

But the both of you know who's truly in charge.

And if you choose to sit in his lap again, this time grinding and shifting on purpose that he gets hard until the car reaches Seoul, nobody has to know that.

Well, maybe Riki knows. But who cares.

wow okay

permanent taglist: @kristynaaah @seungiesdoll @in-somnias-world @rikismists @loviseamms @ikeupop @k3nza @heezeunx @ot7archives @petulapetula

the argument between you both was blown out of proportion. you were the one raising your voice because ryul stayed all cold and quiet which pissed you off even more. he came back exhausted from practice already irritated out of his mind and every little thing after that just kept setting each other off. he was pacing around the bedroom with his jaw locked tight while you sat on the edge of the bed glaring at him just as hard. every sentence coming out of his mouth sounded more clipped and sharp. 

“you always do this shit,” he muttered, leaning against the doorframe as he dragged a hand through his hair. “push and push and push when i’m already pissed off.” 

“maybe because you never fucking talk to me.” that shut him up for half a second. ryul just stared at you, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. he laughs once under his breath because you drive him fucking insane. “you’re unbelievable."

“then leave.” you didn't actually mean it. you knew that immediately by the way his expression changed. something colder flashing across his face before he crossed the room in two strides and grabbed the back of your neck, crashing his mouth onto yours so hard your teeth knocked together. it’s so rough and messy. all the anger between you both twisted into something downright filthy. spit slicks your lips, tongues shoving against each other as he groans into your mouth. you can tell when ryul is angry by the way he kisses. rough and mean enough to make your head spin. one of his hands stays twisted tight in your hair while the other slides under your shirt to grope at your waist and then your tits, squeezing them hard enough to make you whine. you’re yanking his clothes off with shaky impatient hands, still pissed at him but too horny to care. he’s helping you rip off his vest, breaking the kiss to throw it off before chasing your lips again, both of you stumbling back onto the bed half dressed. 

he practically shoves you back onto the mattress before clambering over you again. his mouth dragged down your throat, biting and sucking marks into your skin while your nails clawed down his back hard enough to leave scratches. “fuck,” he hissed when you tugged his hair, hips grinding down against yours. his hand slips under your panties, rubbing slow circles over your clit through the sticky mess between your thighs which has your body twitch underneath him. the lewd wet sounds alone are enough to make his cock chub up. he’s cursing under his breath, cock now straining painfully against his boxers whilst his fingers now work you open. you let out a small moan, shaking your head in frustration as he builds up a fast pace, the sloppy sounds of his fingers fucking into your wet cunt has him spiralling. 

eventually he pulls away with a frustrated groan before slapping your open cunt once, then twice making you yelp each time. your thighs twitched violently underneath him while he spread you wider, not letting you close them. you sniffle, watching him yank open the bedside drawer before your eyes drop lower. his cock is leaking through the thin fabric, the head twitching when your fingertips ghosted the top of hit. he nearly folded over when you palm him properly. “fuck, you’re so impatient.” he grits out, hissing when you slip your hand inside to fully pull his cock out, the flushed thick meat holding heavy in your small hand. you subconsciously swallowed at the sight of it, smearing the white sticky precum gathered across the slit all over it. his abs tenses under your touch, his breathing now uneven before he catches your wrist to stop you because he knows he won't last long.

“raw me.” you say without hesitation, chest rising in every soft pant as you look him dead in the eye. ryul actually lost all composure then. his cheeks flushed as he paused awkwardly, but his cock seemed to leak even more at the nasty thought. “shit, are you serious?” he said almost breathlessly. one hand dragging through his hair while the other spread across your stomach like he was already imagining filling you up 

“mhm.” you nod with certainty as you pull the rest of his boxers down hurriedly. “c’mon.”

something dark flashes across his face. slapping your hands away before pushing your face down into the mattress to keep you there whilst he leans over you. “look at you,” he spat, sliding his cock through your soaked folds agonisingly slow. “acting like you can get whatever you want.” 

“you’re such a fucking brat.” he moves his hand off your face so you can breathe, looking up at him with mischief glinting in your eyes as you smirk lazily, grinding your hips up onto his thick cock. his hand grabs a handful of your ass as he watches you tease him, making him groan under his breath. 

“don’t you start crying later when you can’t take it anymore.”

Jay keeps his eyes trained on the road ahead, though you catch the faint twitch of amusement pulling at the corner of his mouth. Streetlights flash over the sharp slope of his nose, over the silver rings decorating his fingers as they curl against the wheel.

"You know," he continues, quieter this time, "so it's not awkward and someone can constantly yap into my ear so I don't fall asleep while driving."

A laugh escapes you instantly.

"What an arrogant bitch you are, Jay," you scoff, turning toward him. "So you just brought me along so you wouldn't crash your car?"

"Mhm. Exactly that."

The answer comes way too fast.

You narrow your eyes at him while he fights back a grin, shoulders shaking slightly when he lets out a low laugh. The sound settles warmly in the car, embarrassingly enough making your stomach twist a little.

God.

You hated how easy it was for him.

At the next red light, Jay glances at you through the rearview mirror, eyes crinkling at the corners. His fingers twitch faintly against the steering wheel like he's resisting the urge to reach over and flick your forehead for glaring at him so hard.

Adorable.

The realization hits you so suddenly that you have to look away first.

"Besides," Jay says after a beat, voice lower now, "you answered in like… thirty seconds."

You blink. "What?"

"When I texted you." He smirks without looking over. "Thought that was kinda desperate."

Your jaw drops.

"You literally asked me to come out at midnight!"

"And you still came. Why blame me?"

"Gosh, I hate your insufferable ass."

"No, you don't. You know you don’t."

The light turns green.

Jay drives forward again, one hand loosely steering while the other rests near the gear shift. Music plays quietly through the speakers now — something mellow, the kind of song that settles comfortably into the silence instead of interrupting it.

You steal another glance at him.

At the concentration etched into his face. The way his rings glint whenever his fingers move. The veins running along the back of his hand under the dim dashboard lights.

Your throat suddenly feels dry.

For a second, his eyes flick toward you again.

Not long enough to be dangerous.

Just long enough to make your pulse stumble over itself.

"Just date already," was the phrase your friends threw at you so often that it practically lost all meaning.

Every time Jay appeared on your Instagram close friends story, your phone would light up with the same exact reactions.

A picture of him sitting across from you in some empty diner at two in the morning, all sleepy eyes and silver rings wrapped around a mug of coffee.

A blurry video of him in his studio, guitar resting against his thigh while he played something soft and unfinished solely because you once admitted you liked hearing him practice.

The two of you arguing over snacks in a grocery store aisle at midnight like an old married couple. Him driving you around the city with one hand on the wheel and the other drumming absentmindedly against the steering wheel while you rambled too much and he listened anyway.

Always Jay.

Always somehow Jay.

Your camera roll was embarrassingly full of him.

Jay asleep in the passenger seat during one of your midnight drives, cheek squished against the leather while the city lights painted soft colors across his face. Jay inside the convenience store at one in the morning holding up two different instant ramen cups because he "needed a second opinion." Jay in his studio with a guitar balanced across his lap, sleeves pushed to his elbows, rings catching beneath dim yellow lighting while he played random melodies just to fill the silence between your conversations.

Even your friends stopped pretending not to notice. Every brunch, every late-night drive, every casual little outing somehow ended the same way — with someone glancing between you and Jay before eventually asking the question neither of you ever seemed able to answer.

"What are you guys?"

And honestly, you never really knew how to answer them.

Because Jay had entered your life so quietly that you never noticed how deeply he'd rooted himself into it until suddenly he was everywhere.

You met him on a night you were trying very hard not to fall apart.

A bar downtown tucked between old buildings and flickering neon signs, the kind of place that smelled faintly of cigarettes no matter how many times they cleaned it. Dim golden lights hung low from the ceiling, staining everything amber and red while some old rock song played loud enough to make conversations blur at the edges.

You remembered sitting alone at the counter in clothes you'd thrown on without thinking, staring blankly at a watered-down drink you barely touched.

Your ex had texted you an hour earlier.

Something cruel.

Something mean enough to reopen every wound you'd spent weeks trying to stitch shut.

And the worst part was that you still let it affect you.

You still sat there rereading the message over and over until the words practically burned into the backs of your eyes.

Too emotional. Too difficult. Too much.

Then Jay sat beside you.

You noticed him immediately, unfortunately.

Pretty in the most unfair, devastating way possible. Leather jacket slipping lazily off one shoulder, dark hair messy like he'd been running frustrated hands through it all night, silver rings decorating nearly every finger. He smelled faintly like cigarette smoke and expensive cologne when the bartender passed between the two of you.

At first, he didn't say anything.

Just ordered a drink.

Then, after a moment, he glanced sideways at you.

"You've been glaring at that drink for, like, ten minutes straight," he said casually. "Think it's getting nervous."

And despite yourself, you laughed.

Not a polite one, not the fake one you'd spent months forcing out whenever your ex made some backhanded joke at your expense.

It was a real one.

The kind that escaped before you could stop it.

Jay noticed too.

You remembered the way he smiled afterward — small, crooked, and almost surprised himself.

After that, everything happened slowly.

Then all at once.

One conversation became him lingering beside you outside the bar afterward because "your Uber was taking too long." Him lingering became him walking you home because he "didn't trust weird men at night." Walking you home became standing awkwardly outside your apartment building talking for another forty minutes because neither of you really wanted the conversation to end yet.

Then came exchanged numbers.

Then came late-night texts.

At first it was stupid things.

Or random blurry pictures he'd send you at ungodly hours from his studio.

A guitar pick resting on his knee. Half-finished song lyrics scribbled onto notebook paper. His hand wrapped around an iced americano with the caption: this shit tastes terrible

And somehow, without either of you realizing it, talking to Jay became the easiest thing in the world.

Your phone slowly filled with him.

Missed calls from three in the morning because he "wanted company while working." Voice messages of him humming unfinished melodies into the microphone. Random texts asking if you'd eaten yet.

Then suddenly Jay was everywhere in your life.

Showing up outside your apartment at midnight asking if you wanted to go on a drive because he "couldn't sleep." Sitting beside you in grocery store aisles while you debated snacks for twenty minutes straight. Bringing you coffee exactly the way you liked it without asking anymore.

He remembered things.

Tiny things.

The fact you hated pickles. The exact song you once said reminded you of childhood. The way you always got quiet whenever something was wrong, even when you insisted you were fine.

And maybe that was the problem.

Because Jay made being cared for feel terrifyingly easy.

Somewhere along the way, he simply became… Jay.

The first person you wanted to text whenever something happened. The person your eyes automatically searched for in crowded rooms. The person who somehow slipped himself into the fabric of your everyday life so naturally that now you couldn't imagine your routines without him tangled somewhere inside them.

Jay and you were friends.

Or maybe best friends.

But definitely just friends.

At least, that was what both of you insisted.

Even when your relationship had begun to blur at the edges into something softer. Stranger.

Something built from lingering glances across studio rooms and quiet moments in parked cars long after conversations ended. From the way his hand always found the small of your back when guiding you through crowded places. From the way silence around him never felt uncomfortable, only full.

There were moments that sat between the two of you unfinished.

Almost-somethings.

Something unnamed.

Something carefully avoided.

A situation, maybe.

Though even that felt too small for whatever existed between the two of you.

The city thins out around you the further Jay drives.

Tall buildings give way to quieter streets, neon signs fewer and further between, the kind of empty stretch of road that feels like the world forgot about it. The music from the speakers has shifted into something slower, more ambient, and the car feels smaller somehow closer, warmer, with just the two of you inside it and the dark pressing against the windows.

You're rambling about something. You don't even remember what anymore, maybe the movie you watched last week, maybe the coworker who keeps stealing your lunch from the fridge — but Jay is definitely listening.

He always listens, even when he's pretending not to, his hand loose on the wheel, his gaze fixed on the road, but his hums and half-comments hitting at exactly the right moments to let you know he's paying attention to every word.

It's during a lull in the conversation that you notice it again.

His hand.

The way his fingers, long, deliberate, calloused at the tips from years of pressing steel strings against fretboards, are drumming a slow, absent rhythm against the gear shift. The silver rings catch the dashboard light every few seconds, flashing little slivers of brightness into the dim cabin.

The veins along the back of his hand shift under his skin every time his fingers move, tendons flexing, and you trace the path of them without meaning to, from his knuckles up to his wrist, disappearing under the pushed-up sleeve of his jacket.

You've noticed his hands before.

Of course you have.

You've spent an embarrassing number of nights lying awake thinking about those hands — the way they look wrapped around a guitar neck, the way they cradle a coffee mug, the way they move when he talks, always gesturing, always restless, always doing something.

You've thought about what those calloused fingertips would feel like against your skin instead of against strings.

You've thought about what those long fingers could do, where they could reach, how they could—

"You're staring."

Jay's voice cuts through the spiral so cleanly you nearly jump.

"I'm not," you say, too fast, snapping your gaze back to the windshield like the road is the most fascinating thing you've ever seen. Your cheeks are burning. You can feel the heat of it all the way to your ears.

"You are." He doesn't even look at you when he says it, but you can hear the grin in his voice, the smug, knowing curve of it. "You've been staring at my hand for like a solid minute, Y/N. That's not subtle."

"I was spacing out," you lie. "Thinking about… stuff."

"Stuff." He repeats the word flatly, unimpressed. "Right. Your eyes were glued to my fingers. That's not even spacing out, that's like—"

"If you finish that sentence, I'm opening this door and rolling onto the highway."

He laughs, low and warm, and the sound of it — god, the sound of it does things to you that you're not strong enough to admit out loud. His shoulders shake a little, his head tipping back, and you watch the line of his throat in the dim light and want to bite it.

"Okay, okay," he concedes, still grinning. "I'll be nice. For now."

"For now," you echo, narrowing your eyes at him. "The fuck, what's that supposed to mean?"

Jay just shrugs, one-handed and easy, and doesn't answer.

The silence that follows is different from the comfortable ones you usually share.

It’s charged. Electric, rather.

The air in the car feels thicker, warmer, like the heater is suddenly working overtime or maybe like your skin is just running a few degrees hotter than it was a minute ago. You can feel him next to you, the warmth radiating off his body, the faint scent of his cologne, the laundry detergent he uses, and something underneath that's just him, and you're unfortunately hyperaware of every inch of space between your body and his.

You try to focus on the road.

You try to focus on the music.

You try to focus on literally anything except the way his hand is still resting near the gear shift, fingers drumming, rings glinting, veins flexing.

"You're doing it again," Jay says, quieter this time.

"I'm not."

"You literally just bit your lip looking at my hand."

Your hand flies to your mouth like you can undo the evidence. "I did not—"

"You did," he says flatly.

Now he does look at you — just a glance, quick and sideways, but the look in his eyes is different now, darker.

The amusement is still there, but it's layered over something else, something heavier, something that makes your stomach do thirty consecutive backflips.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, huh? You've been weird about my hands for months. Don't think I haven't noticed."

Your heart slams against your ribs.

"I haven't been weird about anything," you say, but your voice comes out thinner than you intended, and the denial sounds weak even to your own ears.

Jay hums. Low and unconvinced.

Then his hand moves.

Not to the wheel. Not to the gear shift.

To your thigh.

Just rests there — warm, heavy, and deliberate, his palm pressing flat against the inside of your thigh just above your knee, fingers curving loosely around the curve of it. His rings are cool through the thin fabric of your shorts, a sharp contrast to the heat of his skin, and the touch is so sudden, so unexpected, that your breath catches audibly in your throat.

You freeze.

Every nerve ending in your body narrows down to the five points of contact where his fingers are pressed against your thigh.

You can feel the calluses on his fingertips, rough and textured, the skin hardened from years of pressing down on guitar strings, even through the cotton. You can feel the weight of his palm, the slight squeeze of his fingers, the way his thumb is resting against the soft inside of your thigh, not moving, just there.

Just sitting there like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Like he touches you like this all the time.

He doesn't.

He's never touched you like this before.

"Jay—" Your voice comes out strangled. You can't finish the sentence. You don't know what the hell you were going to say — stop, don't stop, more, what are you doing — so nothing comes out at all except his name, and the way it sounds from your mouth, breathless and barely there, makes his fingers tighten slightly on your thigh.

"What?" he asks, and his voice is calm, so fucking calm, like his hand isn't currently burning a hole through your skin, like he can't feel the way your thigh muscles have gone tense and trembling under his palm. "Can't hear you, Y/N. Speak up."

"I—" You swallow hard. "What are you doing?"

"Driving." He says it so casually. So easily. One hand on the wheel, one hand on your thigh, eyes on the road, like this is just another night, like this is just something he does. "Why, does this bother you?"

It doesn't bother you.

It bothers you how much it doesn't bother you.

It bothers you how badly you want his hand to move higher.

"No," you manage, and the word is barely a whisper.

"Good." His thumb moves, just a slow, lazy stroke against the inside of your thigh, tracing a small arc against the cotton, and the touch is so light, so unhurried, but it sends a pulse of heat straight between your legs so intense that you have to press your knees together, trapping his hand slightly between them. "Then stop looking at me like that."

"Huh? Like what?"

"Like you want me to do something about it."

The words land in the car like a lit match dropped on gasoline.

Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

"Jay—"

"Because if you want me to," he continues, and his voice has dropped into something lower, rougher, a register you've never heard from him before, something that scrapes at the bottom of his throat and comes out warm and dark and dangerous, "you just have to say the word. I've been patient for a long time, Y/N. Really fucking patient. But I'm not gonna sit here and pretend I don't know what that look on your face means."

Your pulse is hammering so hard you can feel it in your throat, in your wrists, between your legs.

The car feels impossibly small.

The road stretches empty and dark ahead of you, nothing but the headlights cutting through the night, the low hum of the engine, and Jay's hand on your thigh, his thumb still stroking that slow, maddening little arc.

"I—" You don't know what to say. You don't know how to say any of the things you're thinking, all those months of wanting compressed into a single breathless moment in the passenger seat of his car at midnight. "Jay, we're—you know, we're friends—"

"Is that what you want?" His thumb presses harder, not moving anymore, just a firm, deliberate pressure against the inside of your thigh that makes your breath stutter. "For me to stop? Tell me to stop and I will. Right now. Won't bring it up again."

The silence stretches.

One second.

Two.

Three.

You don't tell him to stop.

Jay exhales slowly, shakily, like he's been holding his breath waiting for your answer, and when he speaks again, his voice is rough and low and reverent.

"Good girl."

The praise hits you like a physical thing, a warm rush that spreads from your chest down to your stomach and lower, and you let out a small, involuntary sound, something between a gasp and a whimper, that makes Jay's hand tighten on your thigh.

"Fuck," he mutters, almost to himself. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you make that sound."

His hand moves higher.

Not fast or rough, but slow and deliberate, his palm dragging upward along the inside of your thigh, pushing the hem of your shorts up as it goes, his rings catching briefly on the fabric before sliding underneath it.

The calluses on his fingertips graze against the bare skin of your inner thigh and the texture of them, the tactile proof of every hour he's spent with a guitar in his hands, makes you shiver so hard the seat creaks beneath you.

"Feel that?" he murmurs, his fingers continuing their slow, devastating ascent, brushing against skin that no one has touched in months, skin that's warm and soft and already trembling. "Calluses. From playing. Every time I pressed down on a string, I was thinking about how these would feel on you. How you'd react if I touched you with them."

Your head falls back against the headrest. Your eyes are half-closed, your lips parted, your breathing ragged and shallow.

The city lights have disappeared entirely now, just a dark road and dark sky and the glow of the dashboard illuminating the sharp line of Jay's jaw, the concentration on his face as his fingers finally reach the edge of your underwear.

"Jay—" His name comes out wrecked, barely recognizable.

"I know," he says, and his voice is steady but there's a tremor underneath it, a crack in the composure that tells you he's not nearly as calm as he's pretending to be. "I've got you. Just—let me touch you. Okay? Let me make you feel good."

His fingers brush against the damp cotton of your underwear, just a ghost of a touch, just the barest pressure, and your hips jerk against the seat, a sharp, desperate little movement you can't control.

The sound you make is embarrassing, high, thin, and needy, and Jay's breath hitches audibly when he hears it.

"God, you're wet," he breathes, and his fingers press more firmly now, dragging along the length of you through the soaked fabric, feeling the heat and the shape of you through the thin barrier. "I've barely even touched you and you're this wet already? That's—fuck, Y/N, that's so fucking hot."

"Shut up," you gasp, but there's no conviction behind it, and your thighs fall open wider instead of closing, giving him more access, giving him everything he's asking for and more. "Don't—don't fucking talk like that—"

"Why not?" He hooks his finger under the edge of your underwear and pulls it aside, and the cool air against your slick, heated skin makes you whimper, makes your cunt clench around nothing. "Does it make you wetter? It does, doesn't it? I can feel it. You're dripping, baby. All over my fingers."

And then he touches you, the first contact of those calloused fingertips against your bare, swollen flesh rips a sound from your throat that you've never made before, something raw and broken and desperate.

His fingers drag through your wetness, slick and hot, spreading it from your entrance up to your clit in one long, slow stroke that has your whole body arching off the seat.

"There you go," Jay murmurs, and there's something almost reverent in his voice, something like wonder, like he can't quite believe this is real, like he's dreamed about this moment so many times that the reality of it is almost too much. "That's it. Let me feel you. God, you're so soft—so fucking wet and soft and warm and—fuck, I've thought about this so many times, you have no idea—"

"How many times?" The question tumbles out of you before you can stop it, breathless and shameless, and you feel him pause for a fraction of a second before his fingers start moving again, circling your clit in slow, tight arcs that makes you see the entire Milky Way.

"Every night," he says, and his voice is rough, honest, stripped of all the teasing and the deflection he usually hides behind. "Every single night since the first time I saw you look at my hands in the studio. You thought I didn't notice? You thought I couldn't feel your eyes on me every time I played? I'd be mid-song and I'd look up and you'd be staring at my fingers like—like you wanted them inside you. And I'd have to sit there and pretend I wasn't hard as fuck under my guitar."

"Oh my god—" Your hand flies to his forearm, gripping it hard, feeling the tendons flex under your palm as his fingers work you, and the combination of his words and his touch is overwhelming, too much, everything all at once.

"That's right," he says, low and filthily encouraging. "I know you've thought about it. About what these fingers could do to you. About how good I could make you feel if you'd just let me. And now here you are, spreading your legs for me in my car, so fucking wet I can hear it every time I move my hand—"

You can hear it. The wet, obscene sound of his fingers sliding through your arousal, the soft squelch every time his calloused fingertips circle your clit, the slick friction of your bodies moving together in the quiet of the car.

It's pornographic, unmistakable, the kind of sound that leaves no room for pretending this is anything other than exactly what it is.

His middle finger traces down from your clit to your entrance, circling the rim slowly, teasingly, feeling you clench and flutter against the tip, and your hips roll forward involuntarily, chasing the pressure, chasing the stretch.

"Look at you," Jay breathes, and you can hear the grin in his voice, the dark, hungry edge of it. "Pushing back on my finger already. You want it inside you that bad? Want me to finger you while I drive?"

"Yes—" The word is out before you can think, before you can be embarrassed by how desperate it sounds, and Jay makes a low, strangled sound in his throat that's almost a groan.

"Fuck. Okay. Okay, baby."

He pushes his middle finger inside you, slow, deliberate, feeling the tight, wet heat of you swallow him inch by inch, and the stretch of it, the intrusion, the sensation of being filled even just this much, makes you cry out, your cunt clenching hard around him.

"Oh, that's it—that's fucking it—so tight, oh my god—you feel incredible, you're squeezing my finger so hard—"

He starts moving, slowly curling his finger inside you on every stroke, dragging the calloused pad of it against the front wall of your cunt where you're most sensitive, and the texture of it, rough and ridged against your slick, swollen walls, is so unlike anything you've felt before, so devastatingly good, that you're already trembling, already shaking, your thighs quivering on either side of his hand.

"More," you gasp, and you're not even ashamed anymore, you're past shame, you're past anything except the burning, consuming need for him. "Jay, please—more—"

"Greedy," he says, but there's nothing but heat and affection in his voice, nothing but raw, unfiltered want. "So greedy for me. You want another one? Want me to stretch you open on two fingers?"

"Yes—god, yes—"

He slides a second finger in alongside the first, and the stretch makes you keen, a high sound that fills the car, your walls gripping him so tight he has to work them in slowly, scissoring them gently, opening you up with a patience that belies the roughness of his voice.

"That's it," he groans, feeling you stretch around him, feeling the wet, obscene pulse of your cunt as it adjusts to the fullness. "Take it. Take my fingers, baby. God, you feel so good—so wet and tight—clenching around me like you never want me to leave—"

You are clenching. You can't help it. Every time he curls his fingers inside you, every time the calluses drag against that spot that makes your vision go white, your walls clamp down around him in a desperate, involuntary rhythm that has him cursing under his breath.

"Oh, yes, that's it—clench around me baby," he rasps, and his voice is filthy, wrecked, the words grinding out of him like they're being pulled from somewhere deep and dark and starving. "Squeeze my fingers—just like that—god, you're so fucking tight—I can feel you getting wetter, you know that? You're dripping down my hand, making a mess all over my rings—"

The mention of his rings, the rings you've stared at a hundred times, the ones you've thought about in the dark, the ones currently pressed against your entrance where his fingers disappear inside you, sends a sharp, electric pulse through your core, and you whimper, your hand gripping his forearm so hard your nails leave crescents in his skin.

"You like that?" He feels your reaction, feels the way your cunt clamped down at his words, and lets out a low, breathless laugh. "You like thinking about my rings? I've seen you staring at them, Y/N. Staring at my hands. You think I didn't know what it meant? You think I couldn't tell you were imagining exactly this? My fingers inside you, my rings against your skin, making you come so hard you can't think?"

"Jay—Jay, please—" You don't even know what you're asking for anymore. More. Faster. Everything. Your hips are rocking against his hand now, grinding against his palm, chasing the pressure on your clit while his fingers fuck into you with a steady, devastating rhythm.

"Please what?" His thumb finds your clit and circles it, the sensation of being filled and stimulated at the same time makes your whole body seize. "Tell me what you want. Use your words. I want you to use your pretty little mouth."

"Make me come," you sob, and the words are ragged, torn from somewhere deep inside you, somewhere that's been locked and guarded and desperate for so long. "Please, Jay—make me come—I want it, I need it—I need you—"

"Good girl," he growls, and his fingers speed up, thrusting deeper, curling harder, the wet sounds filling the car obscenely loud, and his thumb presses tighter against your clit, circling faster, matching the relentless rhythm of his hand. "Come for me. Come all over my fingers. I want to feel it—I want to feel you squeeze me so hard you can't take it anymore—come on, baby—give it to me—"

The orgasm hits you like a freight train.

It crashes through you without warning, without buildup, a white-hot wave that starts at your core and radiates outward through every nerve ending in your body.

Your back arches off the seat, your mouth falling open in a silent cry that breaks into a moan halfway through, and your cunt clamps down around his fingers so tight he groans out loud, a raw, guttural sound that only makes you clench harder.

Your thighs are shaking violently on either side of his hand, your fingers digging into his forearm hard enough to leave marks, and he doesn't stop, he fucks you through it with those long, calloused fingers, curling and thrusting and grinding against your clit until the pleasure crests again, a second wave crashing over the first, and you're sobbing his name into the quiet car, over and over, like it's the only word you remember.

"That's it—that's my girl—so good for me—so fucking good—" Jay's voice is wrecked, strained, barely holding together, and through the haze of your orgasm you can feel his hand shaking against you, feel the tension in his body, feel how hard he's working to keep the car steady on the road while you fall apart on his fingers.

He slows gradually, working you down from the peak with gentler strokes, his fingers still inside you but no longer thrusting, just resting, just letting your walls pulse and clench around them as the aftershocks ripple through your body. His thumb strokes your clit softly, barely there, and you twitch and whimper with every touch, oversensitive and trembling.

When he finally slides his fingers out of you, it's slow, agonizingly slow, and the drag of those calloused fingertips against your swollen walls as they withdraw makes you gasp, makes your hips jerk, makes your empty pussy clench around nothing, already missing the fullness.

He pulls his hand free and you hear the wet sound of it, see the glisten on his fingers in the dashboard light, your arousal coating his skin, slicking the silver rings, making everything shine.

Jay brings his hand to his mouth and licks his fingers clean without breaking eye contact with the road.

He makes a sound, like he's tasting something exquisite.

"Sweet," he murmurs. "Even better than I imagined."

You stare at him, chest heaving, thighs still trembling, brain completely, utterly offline.

"Pull over," you say.

His eyebrows twitch. "What?"

"Pull over. Please."

There's a beat of silence where the only sound is your ragged breathing and the hum of the engine, and then Jay's eyes flick to you, and whatever he sees on your face makes his jaw tighten, makes his grip on the steering wheel flex.

He doesn't ask twice.

A hundred meters ahead, the dim, flickering glow of a convenience store sign cuts through the dark, one of those old, half-abandoned ones with the buzzing fluorescent lights and the empty parking lot.

Jay signals, slows, and pulls the car to the side of the road, the tires crunching over loose gravel as he angles into a spot beneath a dying streetlight that casts everything in a sickly amber glow.

The engine idles. The headlights illuminate a stretch of empty, cracked asphalt and a dumpster and nothing else.

The convenience store is dark inside. Closed. Deserted.

Perfect.

Jay kills the engine and turns to you, and the look on his face, god, that damn look on his face.

His pupils are blown wide, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling faster than it should be for someone who just spent the last ten minutes acting so composed.

There's a flush high on his cheekbones and his jaw is clenched so tight you can see the muscle jumping, and when his eyes drag down your body, your flushed skin, your swollen lips, your thighs still parted and slick and trembling, he swallows hard.

"Back seat," you say.

"Y/N—"

"Now, Jay."

He's out of the driver's door and climbing into the backseat before you've even finished the sentence, and you follow, clumsy and graceless, tumbling into the cramped space and pulling the door shut behind you with a solid thunk that seals you both inside.

The interior light blinks off and you're plunged into near-darkness, nothing but the distant, buzzing glow of the streetlight filtering through the tinted windows and the sound of both of you breathing.

For a moment, neither of you moves.

Then Jay reaches for you.

His hands find your waist and pull you onto his lap in one fluid motion, and you go willingly, eagerly, your knees bracketing his hips on either side of the seat, your hands finding his shoulders, his chest, the solid warmth of him underneath all those layers.

You can feel him through his jeans, hard and thick and pressing up against you, and the contact makes you both inhale sharply, your foreheads almost touching in the dark.

"I've wanted this for so long," Jay says, and his voice is raw, unguarded, stripped of every joke and every deflection and every careful wall he's ever built between the two of you. "So fucking long, Y/N. You have no idea. Every time you looked at me—every time you fell asleep in my passenger seat—every time you smiled at me like that—I wanted to pull over and—"

"Show me," you whisper. "Show me what you wanted."

His mouth crashes into yours.

It's not gentle, definitely not careful.

It's months and months of wanting compressed into a single kiss, hungry and desperate and consuming, his lips moving against yours like he's trying to drink you in, his teeth catching your bottom lip and tugging until you gasp into his mouth.

His tongue slides against yours, hot and slick and insistent, and the taste of him, mint and something darker underneath, something that's just Jay, makes your head spin.

You're clutching at his jacket, pulling him closer, grinding down against the hard length of him in his jeans, and the friction makes you both groan into each other's mouths.

His hands are everywhere, gripping your hips, sliding up your back, tangling in your hair, and every touch is urgent, possessive, like he's been starving and you're the first meal he's seen in months.

"Off," he growls against your lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Take this off. Need to see you."

You pull back just enough to yank your shirt over your head, and in the dim amber light filtering through the window, you watch his eyes drag down your body, your collarbones, the swells of your breasts in your bra, the plane of your stomach, and the look on his face is almost pained, jaw slack, breath caught.

"God," he breathes. "You're so—you're so fucking beautiful, you know that? I've thought about what you'd look like—imagined it a hundred times—but this—you're—"

He doesn't bother finishing the sentence.

His mouth finds your collarbone instead, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the ridge of it, his teeth grazing the thin skin, his tongue soothing the sting. His hands find the clasp of your bra and he fumbles with it for a second, a brief, endearing moment of clumsiness that makes you huff a laugh against his hair, before it comes undone and falls away, and then his hands are on your breasts and the laugh dies in your throat, replaced by a sharp, breathless moan.

His palms are warm and rough, the calluses dragging against your nipples as he cups and squeezes, his thumbs circling the tight peaks until they're swollen and aching.

He ducks his head and takes one into his mouth, hot and wet and relentless, his tongue laving over the sensitive bud while his hand works the other, the sensation has you arching into him, your fingers sliding into his dark hair and gripping hard.

"Jay—oh my god—"

"Feel good?" he murmurs against your breast, and the vibration of his voice against your nipple makes you shudder. He pulls back just enough to blow cool air across the wet skin, watching it pebble, watching you squirm. "Tell me. Tell me how it feels."

"Good—it feels so good—your mouth—your hands—"

"My hands," he repeats, low and dark, and his fingers, those fingers, the ones you've been obsessed with for months, slide down your sides, hooking into the waistband of your shorts. "The ones you can't stop staring at. The ones you've been thinking about. These hands, Y/N?"

"Yes—god, yes—"

"Rise a little bit, pretty."

You rise on your knees and he drags your shorts and underwear down together in one swift motion, and you kick them off somewhere into the footwell, you'll find them later, you don't care, you can't care about anything except the way Jay is looking at you right now, naked in his lap in the backseat of his car, illuminated by a dying streetlight and the faint red glow of the convenience store sign.

His eyes are dark, almost black, drinking in every inch of you like he's memorizing you, like he needs to keep this image somewhere safe.

"Perfect," he whispers, and the word is reverent, sacred, the most honest thing he's ever said to you. "You're absolutely perfect."

Then his mouth is on you again, kissing your neck, your jaw, the corner of your mouth, while his hands make quick, rough work of his own clothes. He shrugs off his jacket, pulls his shirt over his head, and you finally, finally, get to see him, the lean lines of his torso, the slight definition of his abs, the ridges of his ribs, the trail of dark hair disappearing below his waistband.

Your hands are on him before you can think, tracing the lines of his body, feeling the heat of his skin, the flex of muscle underneath, and he shivers under your touch like you're burning him.

He unbuttons his jeans, shoves them down along with his boxers, and his cock springs free, hard, flushed, already slick at the tip, and your mouth goes dry at the sight of it, at the size of him, at the reality of this moment hitting you all at once.

"Hey." His voice is softer now, gentle, and his hand cups your face, tilting your chin up so you're looking at him instead of down.

His thumb strokes your cheekbone, tender and grounding, and his eyes are warm and dark and so full of something that makes your chest ache. "We don't have to. If you're not—if this is too fast—"

"It's not too fast," you say, and your voice cracks on it, because it's not too fast, it's been too slow, it's been months of wanting and waiting and pretending and you're so done with pretending. "I want this. I want you. I've wanted you for so long, Jay."

Something shifts in his expression, maybe it’s relief, hunger, tenderness, all tangled together, and he kisses you again, softer this time, slower, his lips moving against yours with a gentleness that makes your eyes sting. His forehead presses against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

"I've got you," he murmurs. "I'll take care of you. I promise."

He reaches down between your bodies, wrapping his hand around himself, and you watch, mesmerized and trembling, as he strokes once, twice, spreading the precum along his length.

Then he positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against you, and the heat of him, the blunt pressure, makes you both go still.

"Ready?" His voice is strained, barely controlled, the tendons in his neck standing out as he fights the urge to just thrust up into you.

You nod, and you sink down.

The stretch is overwhelming.

He's bigger than his fingers, thicker, deeper, filling you in a way that makes your breath catch and your walls flutter desperately around him, trying to adjust, trying to accommodate.

You take him slowly, inch by inch, your hands braced on his shoulders, your thighs trembling with the effort, and the sounds he's making beneath you, low, broken groans that grit out from between his clenched teeth, sharp inhales that stutter in his chest every time you sink lower, are so gorgeous, so devastating, that you want to bottle them and keep them forever.

"Oh—fuck—" His head falls back against the seat, his throat exposed, his hands gripping your hips so tight you know there'll be bruises tomorrow. "You're so—god, you're so tight—you're taking me so well—just a little more, baby—you can take it—"

When you're fully seated, him buried to the hilt inside you, you both go still.

His cock is pulsing inside you, your walls clenching around him, and the fullness is so complete, so consuming, that you can feel him everywhere, in your stomach, in your chest, in the spaces between your ribs where your heart is hammering so fast it hurts.

"Move," he rasps. "Please. I need—I need you to move—"

You lift your hips and sink back down, and the drag of him inside you, the friction, the stretch, the way his cock grinds against every sensitive spot, makes you both cry out, your voices tangling together in the cramped space of the backseat.

You set a rhythm, rolling your hips, finding the angle that makes your vision blur, and Jay meets you halfway, thrusting up into you with deep, deliberate strokes that punch sounds out of you that you can't even recognize as your own.

"That's it—ride me—fuck—" His hands grip your hips, guiding your movements, pulling you down onto him harder, deeper, and the new angle makes the head of his cock drag against that spot inside you, the one his fingers found earlier, the one that makes your whole body seize, and you sob, your nails raking down his chest.

"Right there—Jay, right there—don't stop—please don't stop—"

"I won't—I won't stop—I've got you—" He thrusts up harder, faster, his hands sliding from your hips to your ass, gripping the flesh and spreading you open, pulling you down onto every stroke.

The sound of it is absolutely obscene, skin against skin, wet and sharp and rhythmic, the creak of the leather seat underneath you, the fogging windows, and beneath it all, his voice, low and filthy and desperate.

"Feel so good wrapped around me—so fucking wet—I can feel you squeezing me every time I thrust in—you like that? Like being filled up by me? Like knowing that I'm the one making you feel this good?"

"Yes—yes, only you—only ever you—"

"Fuck—say that again—"

"Only you, Jay—only you—I've never wanted anyone else—"

He flips you.

It happens so fast you barely register the movement — one second you're on top, and the next your back is against the leather seat and Jay is hovering over you, his cock still buried inside you, his arms caging your head, his dark eyes burning into yours.

He looks wrecked, hair falling across his forehead, chest heaving, lips swollen and wet, and there's something feral in his expression, something hungry and barely leashed.

"My turn," he says, and his voice is almost unrecognizable.

He pulls back and thrusts in, hard, deep, bottoming out in a single stroke that knocks the breath out of your lungs, and the new position lets him reach impossibly deeper, lets him control the angle and the pace and everything.

He sets a rhythm that's relentless, deep, grinding thrusts that drag against every nerve ending you have, his hips snapping forward with a precision that makes you wonder if he's channelling the same rhythm he uses on his guitar, the same controlled intensity, the same obsessive attention to detail.

Each thrust is punctuated by a sound, a low, guttural grunt that comes from somewhere deep in his chest, and you want to swallow every one of them, want to press your mouth to his throat and feel the vibrations of them against your lips.

His hands are planted on either side of your head, the leather creaking under his grip, and his silver rings are pressing into the seat just inches from your face, and you reach up and grab his hand, interlace your fingers with his, feel the cool metal press between your knuckles, and the intimacy of it, the tenderness laced through the roughness, makes something crack open in your chest.

"Jay—" His name is a sob, a confession. "I'm close—I'm so close—"

"I know," he breathes, and his forehead drops to yours, his hips never faltering, his rhythm never breaking. "I can feel you—you're clenching around me so tight—you're gonna come, aren't you? Gonna come on my cock?"

"Yes—yes, please—"

"Good girl." His voice breaks on the word, raw and desperate and so full of feeling it's almost unbearable. "Come for me, Y/N. I want to feel you—I want to feel you fall apart on me—I've got you—I've always got you—"

One of his hands releases its grip on the seat and finds your clit, his thumb pressing against it in tight, firm circles, and the added stimulation is too much — it pushes you right over the edge and into freefall.

The orgasm rips through you harder than the first one, deeper, your entire body arching off the seat as your walls clamp down around his cock in pulsing, rhythmic waves that drag him over the edge with you.

Jay buries himself deep and comes with a sound that breaks your heart and puts it back together all at once, your name and a groan and something that might be please, all of it muffled against the curve of your neck where his face is pressed, his whole body shaking above you, his hips jerking in short, erratic thrusts as he spills hot and deep inside you, filling you, marking you, claiming you in a way that has nothing to do with possession and everything to do with surrender.

He stays inside you for a long moment afterward, neither of you moving, both of you trembling, his face still buried in your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, hammering so fast it feels like it's trying to match yours, and your fingers are still laced through his, your rings pressed together, your bodies joined in every way two people can be.

When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are wet.

Not crying, not quite, but glassy and raw and so open it steals your breath.

He looks at you like he's seeing you for the first time, like all those months of pretending and deflecting and carefully maintained distance have finally collapsed and he's standing in the rubble, looking at the one thing he was always too afraid to reach for.

"Hey," he whispers, and his voice is wrecked, hoarse, scraped down to something soft and vulnerable and devastatingly real.

"Hi," you whisper back.

He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear with those calloused fingers, and the gesture is so gentle, so achingly tender after everything rough and desperate that came before, that your eyes sting and your throat closes and you realize, with a sudden, terrifying clarity, that you are so deeply, irrevocably, catastrophically in love with him.

"I don't want to be just friends anymore," he says quietly, and the words land in the space between you like stones dropped into still water, rippling outward, changing everything.

"I can't. I've tried. I've tried so hard to just be your friend and act like this—" he gestures vaguely between your bodies, at the tangle of limbs and the heat and the mess you've made of each other, "—like this isn't what I've wanted since the night I sat down next to you at that bar."

Your heart is pounding so hard you're sure he can feel it.

"Jay—"

"I know it's scary," he continues, and his thumb is still stroking your cheek, gentle, grounding, like he's trying to keep you here with him. "I know things might get complicated. I know I'm not—I know I'm not easy. Practices and gigs and late nights in the studio. But I'd rather have you through all of that than not have you at all. I'd rather call you mine and deal with everything that comes with it than spend one more night pretending I'm okay with just being the guy you go on spontaneous midnight drives with."

A laugh escapes you, shaky and half-buried in a sob, because only Jay would lay his heart out like this while still inside you in the backseat of his car parked outside a deserted convenience store at one in the morning.

"I don't want to be just friends either," you say, and the admission feels like releasing a breath you've been holding for months, like setting down a weight you didn't realize you were carrying. "I haven't wanted that for a long time."

"Yeah?" And the smile that spreads across his face, slow and bright and disbelieving and so purely, radiantly happy that it makes your chest physically hurt, is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. "You sure? Because I'm kind of a lot. I play guitar at three in the morning and I text you a bunch of bullshit and I—"

"Jay."

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

He does.

The kiss is different from the ones before — different from the hungry, desperate, consuming ones that came earlier.

This one is slow. Deliberate.

His lips moving against yours with a tenderness that makes your eyes sting and your fingers curl tighter through his. It tastes like want and something new, something that didn't exist between you an hour ago, something with a name, something with a shape, something you can hold onto.

When he pulls back, he's grinning, that crooked, boyish grin that you've loved since the night you met him, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes him look younger and softer and so heartstoppingly handsome that it's unfair.

"So," he says, and there's the teasing edge back in his voice, but it's warmer now, wrapped in something solid and sure. "Does this mean I get to be the guy in your Instagram stories officially? Like, with a caption and everything?"

"You're such an idiot," you laugh, smacking his shoulder.

"Your idiot," he corrects, and the casual possessiveness of it makes your chest flip.

"My idiot," you confirm.

He kisses you again, softer, briefer, just a press of lips, and then he shifts, pulling out of you slowly, both of you hissing at the sensitivity.

He tugs his shirt from the front seat and uses it to wipe you clean with a gentleness that makes your throat tight, careful, reverent, his fingers feather-light against your oversensitive skin, as if you're something precious and he's still not entirely convinced you're real.

You get dressed in the cramped backseat, bumping elbows and laughing, him trying to find his shirt and you trying to locate your shorts in the footwell, and the normalcy of it, the silliness, the ease, feels like a promise.

When you're both decent again, Jay climbs back into the driver's seat and you settle into the passenger seat, and there's a moment of quiet, the engine humming back to life, the headlights cutting through the dark, before his hand finds yours across the center console and laces your fingers together. His rings press cool against your knuckles. His thumb strokes a slow arc against the back of your hand.

"You know," he says, pulling back onto the empty road, "my band's playing a show next Friday."

"Mhm."

"You should come."

"I always come to your shows."

"Yeah, but this time you could come as my girlfriend." He glances at you sideways, quick and almost shy, and the vulnerability beneath the cockiness makes your heart squeeze. "If you want. No pressure. Just—I think it'd be cool. To introduce you as someone who's actually mine, for once. Instead of—"

"Instead of just the friend I bring to every show?"

"Exactly."

You look at him, at the sharp profile of him against the passing streetlights, at the way his jaw is set like he's bracing for rejection even though you've already given him everything, and you lean across the console and press a kiss to his cheek, feeling him smile against your lips.

"I'll be there," you say. "Front row. Being annoying. Throwing tomatoes at the stage."

"Oh my god." He laughs, full and warm and bright, filling the car with it, filling you with it. "Please don't do that. The guys will never let me live it down."

"Too late. It's happening."

He squeezes your hand, and you squeeze back, and the car moves through the dark, past the empty convenience store and the flickering streetlights and the quiet stretch of road that led you here, and the city starts to reappear around you, buildings rising, lights multiplying, the world waking back up.

But inside the car, it's just you and him.

Just Jay.

Just your Jay.

And for the first time, that word, your, doesn't feel like something you're afraid to think.

It feels like something you're finally brave enough to say.

Later that night, or maybe it's early morning by now, you've lost track, you're lying in his bed with his arm draped over your waist and his breath slow and warm against the back of your neck, and your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

A text from your best friend, because of course she's still awake.

You open it.

so… how was the drive? 😁 anything happen?

You stare at the screen for a long moment, feeling Jay shift behind you, his arm tightening, his lips pressing a sleepy, absent kiss to your bare shoulder.

Then you type back:

hell yeah 😛 not just friends anymore

Three dots appear immediately.

Then:

FINALLYYYYYY OH MY GOD WEVE FUCKING WOOONNNN

You muffle a laugh into the pillow, and behind you, Jay makes a sleepy, questioning sound that dissolves into a yawn.

"What's funny?" he mumbles, half-asleep, his voice warm and rough and muffled against your skin.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

"Mkay. I love you, cutie."

He says it like it's nothing. Like it's the easiest thing in the world. Like he's been saying it for years and this is just the first time he's done it out loud.

Your heart does something complicated and enormous in your chest.

"I love you more," you whisper.

His arm tightens around you. His lips curve against your shoulder.

Outside the window, the city hums and glows and keeps moving, and somewhere in it, there's a convenience store with a flickering sign and a patch of gravel where a car was parked, and if anyone had been there to see it, they would've seen the windows fogged and the car rocking and two people who finally, finally, stopped pretending.

But no one was there.

Just you and Jay.

Just the way it was always supposed to be.

⭐️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

标签 : @simsimluver @maishee @grdientlips @yejisair777 @kristynaaah @heesroses @vmpiricou @seungiesdoll @malibluess @stwryun @hooniluhv @rikisn @hazeheart12 @exclipszz @melancholatte @bluepains @gojopolo @jasmineeeee1009 @ming1luvr @ni-k1ttie @enzsstuff01 @ixnotmee @emvss @simjaeyunslut @luvlyjaemin @kikizzz0 @ilovhoonie @starboyhee @prettygirlthings-world @jaesim @luv4dani | send an ask if you’d like to be added ˙𐃷˙

💿 ࿐ . . i wanna be yours by artic monkeys

✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !

sunoo

okay i feel like sunoo could go either way but he likes the deep stuff

just cause he likes soft, doesn’t mean he can’t be dominant tho!

i see a lot of sub sunoo propaganda and i’m nawtttt falling for it

he’s a soft dom trust

he likes to make you feel good, and most of all, make you feel safe and loved

so he’s very gentle

sunghoon

hoon is in the middle for me

he’s not super rough but not the softest either

it really just depends on the day

sometimes he likes to take things slow so he can take in how pretty you are

but if you ask him to go rough, he def will

jungwon

well… it also depends for won

but his thrusts are kinda fast.. especially when he’s close

he tries to be as gentle with you as he can but sometimes it just feels too good

he’s naturally like idk

not rough but he knows how to manhandle you, even if you’re taking it slow

heeseung

idk man heeseung is… heeseung.

he’s the type to go deep as FUCK

even if he’s being gentle, it’s not as gentle as jay or sunoo. he’s still pounding your shit 😭

he’s only the type to be gentle after an argument, or if you’re both being lazy i don’t knowww

jake

do i have to explain pt1

i’m so sorry queen, jake is genuinely rocking your world

he just gets desperate, it’s not his faulttttt

he’s not incapable of being gentle, he just gets really horny yall idk

did yall see what the lady said about him and his sex drive? yea……..

ni-ki

do i have to explain pt2

in the words of my good sis, enhaeil… he is NOT playing with you

he has like really good stamina and is super strong, he might be incapable of being gentle

like idk he just be in thattttttt

the neighbors would actually think you’re fighting with the way your headboard hits that mfking wall 😭