#jackson wang

Hwang Intak is not one for situationships.

One, because he’s a hopeless romantic. Two, because he doesn’t have a nonchalant bone in his body and will fall headfirst and bring you down right with him. And three, he just wants love—needs it like he needs air. 

So, he is not the type of person who does situationships. 

That is, until he meets Choi Taeyang, who may or may not have been his bi awakening, who may or may not have opened his eyes to the wonders of what it means to be casual, because Choi Taeyang is nothing if not avoidant and very chalant. 

All it took was one kiss in some shadowed corner of a party he didn’t even remember going to, and Intak was instantly hooked. 

But Taeyang had made it clear he wanted nothing more, and sure, Intak could do nothing more if it meant he could kiss those plush lips and get that dreamy face under him while he turns him into a mess with a few calculated words. 

And ever since that fateful night a year ago, Intak has trained himself well. He doesn’t let himself linger around Taeyang when they’re hanging out with their mutual friends, and he doesn’t kiss him outside of their trysts. 

This is the very problem. Sneaking around with Taeyang has left him otherwise single, and his singleness has become a topic of conversation for his family. Specifically, his halmeoni.

When she tells him about the girl from his old small town that she has ready for him to marry when it’s time, Intak nearly drops his noodles. 

The thought of him being arranged with some girl he doesn’t know one bit has him nearly in shambles, rattles him so much that he barely gets sleep. He could just say no, that he doesn’t like that idea, but whether his parents and his halmeoni even listen to him is not up to him. And also, no isn’t exactly in his vocabulary. 

He needs a girlfriend. Soon. He could ask out that girl from his orgo class, she’s cute but she’s way too smart and she’ll eventually realize how stupid he is and it’ll break off before it can be anything solid enough for—

“Hey.”

Intak snaps out of his mental spiral, pulled by the gruff voice against his ear, low and muddled with heavy breaths. 

“Where are you?” Taeyang asks him, before pulling his earlobe between his plush, kiss slicked lips. 

A ragged breath leaves him as the pressure between his hips grows firmer, and he grinds down against Taeyang’s thigh to chase the heat. 

“S-Sorry,” Intak mumbles, head thunking back against the brick wall as Taeyang starts to trail wet kisses down the expanse of his neck. “Got lost in my—ah—h-head for a bit…”

Taeyang laves his tongue over the fresh mark blooming at the base of Intak’s neck, lifting up to raise a brow. “No kidding,” he says, then pauses. 

Intak thinks he sees a flicker of curiosity flit through his gaze, but like always, Taeyang doesn’t pry. Like always, he offers an out. 

“Wanna get out of it?” He asks with a sly, scary little grin that makes Intak’s heart flutter and his cock jump. 

And like always, Intak accepts, nevermind that they’re outside in the open. Sure, they’re hidden behind a tucked away crevice of the school building, but it’s not hidden enough for people to not accidentally stumble by. 

But it’s exciting. With Taeyang, scary things are exciting. Anything is exciting. Taeyang is…

“Yeah,” Intak breathes, but Taeyang is already shoving him down to his knees and unzipping his jeans. 

Intak’s knees hurt, and his throat burns as he makes his way to orgo after, but he soldiers on. At least his brain is turned off now, void of anything but Taeyang’s name, and Taeyang’s taste, and Taeyang’s voice, and Taeyang’s—

“Dude,” you say, for the fourth time now. It takes an elbow to his chest and a snap in his face for him to jump back into his body and in the present. “You good?”

Intak blinks, whipping to turn and face you where you’re sat at the desk beside him. 

“Huh?” He says, honks, more like, because his voice is pretty fucked now. He cringes as your brows furrow. 

“You good? You look like you just got mauled.”

He blinks at you again, unsure how to tell you that’s correct without incriminating himself. 

“Bad sleep,” is what he intelligently settles on. 

You raise a judgmental brow at him, and he’s not sure how to explain why his tummy does a flip. 

And he’s not sure how to excuse the fact that he outright blushes when you reach over to start smoothing down his manic hair. 

“Go out with me,” he blurts out. 

You retract into your seat, a bewildered look on your face. “Um, what?”

Intak backtracks, and then backtracks again, leaning forward with his hands on the edge of the desk. His chair threatens to tip over, but he barrels right on. 

“My grandma’s trying to marry me off,” he says, scrambles basically, and nothing about what he’s saying is helping that look on your face. “I need her to see that I have a girlfriend!”

“Okay,” you start, then reach over to shove him back down on his chair, giving apologetic (and embarrassed) little smiles to the eyes he’s attracting from the crowded hall. “So get a girlfriend.”

He makes a desperate noise. “That’s what I’m asking you!”

“Can you quiet down?” You hiss, fixing him with a sharp look. 

He immediately shuts up, turtling into himself a little. 

You let out a long suffering sigh, turning to face the front of the room as the professor settles at the head. 

“We’ll talk about this later,” you mumble, and Intak isn’t so sure why you look so dejected. 

𓆩⟡𓆪 

Later happens to be three seconds after the class ends, because Intak can’t really hold himself back, and he’s never been one for patience, so you shouldn’t be so surprised. 

You try to escape him, but Intak just trails after you as you hurry out of the class. 

“I don’t really understand what it is you’re asking of me,” you say over your shoulder, dodging and weaving your way through the crowd, because fuck if Intak keeps bumping into people. 

He does, several times, but he’s used to dirty looks from strangers. 

“Just pretend to be my girlfriend,” he says when he manages to finally catch up to you, a little out of breath. 

When you simply keep walking, Intak leaps forward to take your elbow and pull you back to him. 

You go crashing into his chest, immediately stumbling back to put distance. Intak frowns as you pull away and dust yourself of him, but at least you’re not running away. 

“What happens when we eventually break up? Won’t your grandma just ask you to marry that girl anyway?”

“I haven’t really thought that far, ah—are you blushing?”

You blink up at him, staring at him with a blank look for a moment. “It’s hot out here.”

“Oh,” he says. “Okay. So is that a yes?” 

You roll your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself as you avert your gaze to the bulletin board to your right, his left. 

Intak stands there as you worry your lip. A moment has never felt so grand, and he has to rub his palm over his chest to soothe his racing heart. He’s so nervous. Why are you taking so long to answer? Is it so bad to date him? Pretend it even? You’ve been his friend for a few years now, surely you love him to some extent so why would it be so hard to just—

“Fine,” you sigh, and it’s the best ‘fine’ he’s heard maybe in his life. 

He practically leaps, moving to throw himself on you for a hug but you immediately stop him with a hand to his chest. 

The touch burns him through his cotton shirt. 

“Wait,” you snap, glaring at him, and he immediately withers with a sheepish smile. “Ground rules. There has to be some boundaries to this so we don’t get… confused…”

Intak blinks, his head tilting in confusion. “Confused? About what?”

Your cheeks turn even redder. Did it get hotter here? Intak thinks it’s pretty chilly actually. He almost reaches over to take your zip up off your body but then quickly tells himself that’s an incredibly stupid idea. 

“Just—we need boundaries!”

“Ah,” he says, nods. Boundaries. He understands those. “Okay.” Then he pauses, realizes the time. “I have to get to econ though. Talk later?”

“Oh, sure, that’s fine.”

He grins at you and ruffles your hair because he knows you hate that. Just before he turns to leave, he quickly says, “Oh, let’s not tell our friends it’s fake.”

Before you can yell at him, whether that be for the hair ruffle or for this new piece of information he’s so graciously dropped on you, he kisses you on the cheek.

“See you later, babe!” He calls, whirling to run away before you rain thunder on him, completely unaware of the turmoil he’s just left behind. 

𓆩⟡𓆪 

Hwang Intak is not one for thinking. 

One, his friends are pretty sure he has some form of attention deficit disorder that keeps his brain from being able to focus on one thing for more than two seconds. Two, his brain to mouth filter has been broken since, well, birth, and three, that filter was never really a filter, just a huge blaring light that sometimes turns red but he might be colourblind because his reds sometime look like green and he’s not sure how to discern them so why bother trying. 

So, he doesn’t really think about the repercussions or consequences when he introduces you to his group of friends as his girlfriend. 

Keeho immediately sinks his conniving claws into the situation though, rising from his chair in the study room they book on Thursday nights.

“Woah, is that–”

Intak immediately cuts him off with a yelp of your name, very untrusting of whatever nonsense might spew out of his friend. “My girlfriend.”

The effect is… confusing?

You stand awkwardly at his side as his friends gape at the both of you. Intak can sense you squirming and itching to get away, so he takes hold of your sleeve and pulls you closer into his side. He goes rigid when the heat of your body presses into him, like it's seeping into his bones and holding him down.

Jiung is the first to speak up. “He’s not holding you hostage, is he?”

Intak bristles, looking to his left to see you already watching him with a knowing, almost glittery look in your eyes. He pleads you with his own that you don’t take the bait, and he nearly bites his tongue clean off when you smile and lean into him.

“At first,” you tease, and Intak’s heart damn near stops when you rest your chin on his shoulder and look up at him with round, starry eyes. “But he wore me down. He’s charming like that.”

He hears an aw from Shota and an ew from Jongseob, but he can’t hear past that from the steam he’s sure is billowing out of his ears.

He tries to flirt back with the clear opening you’ve just given him, but all he can do is stare and make an unintelligent uhhh.

There’s a scoff from the corner of the room that breaks him out of his reverie, all too familiar.

Taeyang is sitting at the far end of the table, leaned back with his laptop in hand, watching the scene unfold with vague disinterest. Heavy on vague.

“He’s a lot to handle,” Taeyang states, the slant of his lips taking on a dangerous tilt. Intak’s stomach drops at what insinuations those words might hold if one reads too far into them. “Sure you can handle it?”

He’s not entirely sure, but he feels you go tense beside him. “I’m fine,” you say quickly, a frown marring your lips. Intak finds himself desperate to wipe it off of you. “Don’t worry about me.”

And then you take his hand in yours and Intak fully forgets whatever it is he was worried about.

Maybe he should have been worried, then he’d see the way Taeyang had looked at your intertwined hands and muttered to himself, “We’ll see.”

𓆩⟡𓆪 

Inviting you to Jackson’s party so early in your “relationship” might not have been the brightest move. The movies would have been a better first date, but then again, you’re not really dating, are you?

Intak has to remind himself of that as he weaves his way through the crowds in search of you, his chest doing a funny thing the longer you evade him.

When he finally sees you outside the window, standing out in the balcony, he sighs in relief and nearly trips over himself as he reroutes, but a hand wraps around his arm and pulls him into a chest. A sturdy one.

Taeyang’s sturdy chest.

Intak blinks up at Taeyang’s languid smile, shuddering as the older boy’s hand drags down to wrap around the bare skin of Intak’s wrist.

“Hey,” he says, and Intak can smell the beer on his breath already as he leans into his space. “Been lookin’ for you.”

Right. A drunk Taeyang is a horny Taeyang. But then Intak looks over his shoulders to see your figure through the window, arms wrapped around your shivering frame.

“Can’t,” he finds himself saying without thought, looking up at Taeyang with an apologetic smile. It immediately falls away at the pinched look on Taeyang’s face, his pretty lips arched down. “Not right now, I’m sorry. Maybe another time?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, because his brain is stuck on the fact that you’re shivering out there all cold and Intak is a lousy fake-boyfriend for letting that happen. Someone might catch on that this whole thing is a sham if they’re observant enough! Or Jiung enough!

He’s tumbling out of the door, ripping off his sweater in the blink of an eye. 

“There you are!” He says, apologizes quickly when you startle, then starts to shove the sweater on you. “You disappeared, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you cold?”

You sputter as he pulls the neck of the sweat down your head, face scrunched up. “I guess I am,” you mumble as you tuck your arms into the sleeves, blowing a strand of your disarrayed hair out of your face.

Intak smiles sheepishly, reaching over to brush back the hair in your face. You watch him through your lashes with a look he can’t quite discern, so he quickly pulls away.

“S-Sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck instead.

You mutter a quick, “It’s fine,” before looking down, playing with the ends of the sleeves that are too long for you. The whole sweater is too big for you, and it looks ridiculous enough to make him bite back a smile. “What is it?”

His gaze snaps back up to you. “You look cute.”

Silence. Intak flushes immediately and curses his filterless brain. You simply stare at him.

“...Thanks,” you say after another long moment, and Intak lets out the breath stuck in his chest.

It’s silent again as you both regard the decorative floor of the balcony. 

“I take it you’re not having fun,” he finally says. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have dragged—”

“No!”

He blinks, looking up to see you quickly shaking your head. 

“No, don’t apologize. I’m, uh, glad, I guess, that you brought me but it’s just… not really my scene.”

“Right,” he sighs. “I didn’t really think it through. I figured it was a good way to get people to see us together, you know, really sell the whole thing but…”

He trails off when he sees your frown deepen with every word that stumbles out of him. He doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly feeling terribly guilty.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” He asks, feeling the space in his chest get tighter. “Look, if you really hate this, we can just stop, I promise I won’t be—”

“It’s not that.”

He tilts his head as you look out at the forestry, because Jackson is the type of guy to have a mansion with a forest as his backyard, worrying your lip between your teeth as you gather your words. Hm. Intak could take a few notes from you.

“I’ve never been in a relationship,” you finally say, and Intak takes a step back from the sheer absurdity of it. “So, I don’t really know how to act. I’m not really the best person for this job, sorry you got stuck with me.” The laugh you let out is too forced. He hates it. “But you’re not making me uncomfortable. I just… don’t know what to do.”

“Well,” he starts, then stops and clears his throat at your gaze, trying to do that thing you do where you pause and think first. Nothing really happens in his brain though, before he starts up again. “That’s on me then. For being a lousy boyfriend.”

You frown. “But you’re n—”

“Ah-ah!” His finger is on your lips before he can stop himself. His eyes widen a little, then relax when you don’t immediately bite him, peering up at him instead, waiting. Clearing his throat feels harder than normal. “I’ll be such a good boyfriend that you won’t even remember this whole thing is a sham.”

Your brows furrow, the new pout on your lips smushing behind his finger. It’s really adorable, he finds. “But why the effort?” You muffle.

“Because,” he says, not having enough of a mind to pull his hand away. It stays there, pressed against you, because he kind of likes the warmth of your lips on his skin. “Even if it’s not real, I have to make your first experience of having a boyfriend a good one. Or I’d be a shitty friend.”

You’re not pulling away either, simply staring up at him as he spews his nonsense, and the implications go right over his head as soon as he sees the ghost of a smile on your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

You bat his hand away, but you’re really smiling now, so he doesn’t even whine about the fake pain. He simply watches you as you lean back over the railing, eyes on the sky as you ask him, “So, why exactly are these parties supposedly legendary? And why are they thrown by a twenty-seven-year old junior?”

Intak grins as he presses himself to the space beside you, shoulder to shoulder, as he jets off on one of his rambles. “You wouldn’t believe how Keeho and I met this guy.”

𓆩⟡𓆪 

Intak has never had a dream girl. But he’s quickly learning that it’s because he’s never met a girl worth dreaming about, not until you.

Fake-dating you has never been easier. Or, well, harder, because now sometimes he wishes it wasn’t just fake. 

But on the plus side, pretending comes easier. He actually wants to reach out and take your hand when he’s walking you across campus to drop you off to your class despite his being on the other end. 

He wants to take you out to the cafe Jiung works at—not because he gets to give you free things (he would gladly spend his money on you) but because he likes the way your eyes light up whenever he sits down with Choco Chip’s famous hot chocolate in hand.

He wants to pull out the chair for you, brush away that crumb from the corner of your lips, sit there with his chin in his hand as he listens to your ramble about that dickhead professor, walk you home after and drop you off with a kiss on your hand.

The best part? You’re receptive to all of it. Sometimes he thinks himself delusional enough to notice you leaning into a lot of it, but he quickly reminds himself you may bite his head off for insinuating such travesty.

But he might not really mind seeing you that angry with him. He’s always loved that miffed look you get on your face sometimes, all the more when it's directed at him.

The pinch between your brows, the slight downward furl of your lips, the jagged edges of your sharpened gaze—

Fuck.

Intak nearly bristles out of his seat, banging his knee loudly against the leg of his desk in a frantic effort to keep himself upright. It’s loud enough to catch the attention of the students around him, and he shoots them an awkward smile, quickly tugging his sweater down to cover his lap.

He’s fucked, isn’t he?

𓆩⟡𓆪  

Well, he certainly wants to be fucked, but he’s unintentionally been blowing off Taeyang the more his time gets consumed with you, so that’s certainly not going to happen anytime soon. And now these needy nights are spent all on his own.

He lays there in his bed, dick in his hand as he edges himself to a Twitter pov video of a girl riding a guy. A girl who looks… eerily like you. Intak tries to push that thought to the back of his mind. He just stumbled across the video, unintentionally, he’s not a creep!

A choked whimper gets caught in his throat when the girl moans. She even sounds like—

He starts fisting himself quicker, muffling those thoughts and muffling his moans behind bitten lips as he squeezes his eyes shut. 

The image of you fills his mind. What you might look like, above him, riding him. With that icy look that he loves, fuck he might actually die.

He twists his hand along his tip, stroking with short, frantic tugs that have his body thrashing closer and close to that imminent high.

His phone slips out of his hand as it climbs up his body and settles around the base of his throat, squeezing down on the sides just like he loves, just like Taeyang always—

His eyes snap open as the image of Taeyang’s figure behind you, hands guiding you over his dick, floods his brain.

White quickly replaces that, and before he knows it he’s spilling over his stomach, his fist flying over himself, a mangled cry of your name and Taeyang’s stuttering from his lips.

Yeah, he’s fucked.

𓆩⟡𓆪  

Intak always had the inkling that Taeyang is somehow a mindreader.

After successfully avoiding both you and Taeyang for the past couple days, his attempts to hide behind his shame go completely out the window when Taeyang corners him in the old band room in the basement, one of the places they frequent for one of their many… trysts.

Intak’s heart climbs up his throat as he’s shoved into the room, then falls to his ass when he hears the door shut behind him.

“So.”

Taeyang’s voice ripples through him, holding his feet anchored to the floor even as Intak feels the heat of his body close in behind him. 

“Got yourself a little girlfriend, did you?”

Intak swallows down his words. He’s been getting better with that, with not spewing the first thing that comes to his mind.

He gasps when he feels Taeyang’s hands, warm and sturdy, settle on his hips, the line of heat plastering against his back like a threat.

He squeezes once. “I asked you a question.”

Intak shudders at the low cadence of his voice, battling the whimper climbing up his throat.

“I-I did,” Intak finally squeaks, body bristling as Taeyang starts to walk him forward, slowly inching him to the wall in front of them.

“Hm.” The sound echoes in his brain, rattling around in the space as Taeyang trails his lips against the shell of his ear.

Intak’s chest tightens as Taeyang’s warm breath brushes against the sensitive skin.

“Bullshit.”

Intak’s eyes snap open wide. “W-What do you mean bull—ah!”

He yelps as he’s pushed into the wall, cheek plastered against the cement as Taeyang holds him still with his own body.

“If it was real,” Taeyang starts, one hand sliding forward to settle over the bulge growing embarrassingly fast under Intak’s jeans. He can practically hear the grin in his voice as he continues, “you wouldn’t still be thinking of me.

Intak gasps as Taeyang's hand kneads down, his body jolting as the fire spiking through his body. “I don’t know what you’re—nngh—How did—”

He’s cut off with a short cry as Taeyang flips him, his back pressed heavily into the hard wall. 

Taeyang’s eyes are manic, lips pressed into a tight line as he batters Intak down with his gaze alone.

“I know you, Takki,” he says in a voice so deceptively sweet, his hand locking onto Intak’s jaw, thumb digging into his lower lip. Intak parts his mouth like an instinct. “I know you better than anyone.”

Intak nearly moans as Taeyang slides his thumb in to settle on his tongue, fighting the urge with his whole self to close his mouth, chase the salt and suck.

“I know you still want me,” Taeyang continues softly, sliding his finger deeper, just enough to teeter on triggering Intak’s gag reflex. But Taeyang doesn’t push farther, because he knows Intak hates that. He knows Intak.

“‘Aeyang,” Intak whines softly, his eyes clouding already. From lust or from tears, he doesn’t know, doesn’t care.

Taeyang’s expression breaks open. But Intak doesn’t get to see what to, because then Taeyang’s lips are on his, and anything but those lips are far, far from his mind.

𓆩⟡𓆪 

You have never been one for much fanfare. 

You’ve always been one for the quiet things in life—the stable, the definite, the comfort.

Until Hwang Intak came bumbling his way into your life, all loud and boisterous and lively and so wildly unstable that, there he was, asking you to be his fake girlfriend. 

If you weren’t half in love with him, you would have laughed in his face and handed him over to his hemline so that the proper little wife she had for him could fix him up. 

But no, you were selfish, and terribly hopeful that his fake feelings might one day not be so fake anymore. It’s awful and manipulative and it’s been enough to induce sleepless nights and a storm of guilt that’s settled in your chest like a kidney stone for your heart. 

You suppose all evil deeds do go punished, because here you are, watching the boy of your dreams submitting to someone else—Choi Taeyang of all people—in a way that you could never be prepared for.

You’ve always known Intak would be needy (gods know you’ve dreamt about it enough times), but to see it be real, like this—hearing him whine under Taeyang’s dominating kiss, seeing him rut against the older boy’s leg, his fists clinging into the back of his sweater like a lifeline.

It’s too much.

You step back, leave the door ajar, and walk away with a charred heart and fire in your veins.

𓆩⟡𓆪 

Choi Taeyang doesn’t do love. 

It’s complicated, and messy, and far too much effort. 

That doesn’t stop that silly little thing inside his chest aching for it whenever he sees Hwang Intak, the embodiment of everything he doesn’t want in a relationship—complicated, and messy, and too much to handle. 

But fuck if he doesn’t crave him. He doesn’t understand it. Just like he doesn’t understand love. Or whatever this feeling is—it’s not love, Taeyang refuses to admit that. 

Desire, of course. A want—well, that’s kind of the same thing. A need? No, Taeyang doesn’t need anything. He would never become reliant on something, especially not another person. 

But damn it if he’s not possessive. And he doesn’t know what exactly it is about Intak that makes him want to lock him away in his room and never let him go but it’s probably something he should resolve.

Or not. He wouldn’t mind keeping Intak to himself. But with you around now, it’s not faring well for him.

Because even if he knows it's not real, this thing between you and Intak, he knows there's something to it.

And now, seeing you in front of him, he understands why Intak’s head is being turned. You’re pretty in the way that cuts and makes hearts bleed with every sharp look you throw them. In the way that leaves people wanting more with every clipped answer. 

The way your eyes slide down the slopes of his face and lingers on his lips, he can tell you’ve come to some sort of similar conclusion of your own. 

Intak has options. Neither are bad options at all, and for the first time, Taeyang has competition. 

He kind of likes that fluttery feeling in his chest when your sharp eyes focus on his. 

“Hello,” he says, low and smooth, and you immediately turn to leave. 

“Not in the mood.”

Taeyang follows. If there’s anything he and Intak share, it’s persistence. “I am.”

“Congratulations.”

It’s quiet for a moment as he follows you across the courtyard, smile growing wider the tenser your shoulders get the longer he hovers over you. 

Eventually, you sigh and come to a stop, turning but not meeting his gaze. “Just get it over with. Say what you want.”

He shrugs. “I have nothing to say. Seems like there’s some things you wanted to get off your chest though.”

Oh, you’re easy to annoy. Taeyang is going to have a lot of fun with that.

You click your tongue, snarling at him. “I have nothing to say to you.”

You’re turning again, walking to the main entrance. Taeyang continues following. 

“Fuck!” You hiss after another moment, whipping around and drawing the attention of passerby’s. 

Taeyang can only focus on you and that pretty arch of your lips as you scowl at him. 

“Fine. You win,” you say, and your tone is suddenly sad, defeated, not angry. “You can have him. Happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Okay, now he’s just confused. 

You’re walking again, and all Taeyang can do is stand there and stare at your retreating figure. 

𓆩⟡𓆪 

Intak has no idea where things might have gone wrong.

He has done everything a perfect gentleman would do. So why is it that the icy glares you shot him when you sat at your desk isn’t one of endearment and fondness?

You don’t even linger around after class ends, a short window you allow for him to butt into your day, one that he never lets pass without hitting you with a cheesy compliment. 

He’d already picked his for the day. Hey, is the sun out today or is that just you?

But he doesn’t even get the first word out as he clambers out of his chair to you before you get up and make straight for the exit.

He leaves behind his bag and all his belongings as he chases after you, calling your name as he weaves through the crowd. But you only walk faster, just out of reach.

Intak sputters and nearly trips when he launches himself forward, latching onto your arm and pulling you back.

You get hauled into his chest and Intak immediately wraps his arms around you to hold you in.

You’re mid yell when your eyes land up on his, and he watches in real time as you freeze over.

Fuck, this is the closest he’s ever been to you. His brain goes a little liquid as his eyes drift down to your lips.

Yours moves down too, but that seems to be the trigger that makes you shove him back.

“Wait!” He cries, grabbing your wrist before you can walk off again. “What’s wrong? What happened, are you upset?”

“No.” You’re not looking at him, just somewhere forward like you’re mapping out your route of escape. “I just have a lot going on today.”

“Well, let me help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Are you sure?” He tightens his hand just a little, out of desperation, out of need, out of fear that letting you go means more than what he’s prepared for. “I have a lot of time today, I can—”

“Go spend it with Taeyang then.”

Intak’s heart drops, and so does your hand from his grasp. “Huh?”

You’re quiet for a moment, and even the loud murmur of the crowd embers away into nothing as he stands there and waits, praying for… for… well, he doesn’t really know.

“I saw you guys the other day,” you mumble, tucking your arms against your chest. “Look, I’m not upset or anything. It’s not like this is real.” 

His heart shrivels when you glance up at him just to immediately look away like you can’t even stomach that. 

“You can do what you want. I just wish you’d given me a heads up.”

Intak’s hands twitch uselessly at his sides. His brain can’t muster what might be the correct answer for this, if any.

“So, we’re,” he clears his throat when his voice cracks. “We’re good?”

“Yeah,” you say with a small smile before you hike your bag higher on your shoulder and turn to leave. “We’re good.”

𓆩⟡𓆪 

Intak was never built for situationships. 

So the fact that he somehow gets himself into two is the universe’s ironic way of calling his entire existence a comedy. 

But despite his emotional inability to juggle more than one thing at once, things have been moving smoothly.

And despite his initial beliefs, you have been surprisingly easy to get along with after it all. He thought maybe you might have been jealous, but that would’ve been ridiculous since you don’t actually like him (Intak ignores that he hates this fact).

But you’ve been reciprocating. Doing romantic things for him, like smoothing down his hair, wiping food off his lips, showing up when his classes end with a cup of his favourite mocha.

You even kissed him on the cheek once. Well, it was during one of his study sessions with his friends when you’d dropped by with pizza for everyone (which very easily won over his friends) so of course it was to sell the act, but Intak felt like he’d won everything.

Even when Taeyang had taken him to his apartment that night and effectively melted him into the sheets, he still couldn’t forget the ghost of your lips against his skin.

And even Taeyang had upped his game, or had just gotten really clingy—opting to take up whatever free time Intak had. Not that he was complaining, but Taeyang would even go so far as to refuse to leave even when you showed up.

Those times were always… something. Something that he couldn’t quite understand, because clearly there was some tension, but Intak had no idea why.

He just hopes it would be bearable for just one night on his birthday, when he’d called all his friends and their friends over. And it was, until it came to the gifts.

Intak sits there on the floor, you on his left, Taeyang on his right, and a brand new fedora in his hands. It’s black, sleek, a classic that has his eyes practically sparkling as he looks up at you.

You scrunch your nose, a little abashed at the struck expression on his face. “Don’t know why you like those so much. They’re dorky.”

Intak only preens, putting the hat on and flashing you with a beaming smile. “But I look cute in them, don’t I?”

You smack the lip of the hat down to obscure his face a little, but the smile on your face makes his heart sing. “I guess.”

He leans in before he can stop himself, brushing his lips against your cheek as he whispers, “Thank you.”

Jongseob makes a gagging noise in the background that Jiung immediately scolds.

But all you can hear is the scoff that leaves Taeyang. Thankfully Intak is too distracted by the brand new addition to his collection, getting up immediately to put it away. 

You look over at the unobstructed view of Taeyang now that Intak has gotten up, staring at the limited edition hoodie from a brand Intak likes laid on the floor.

“Aw,” you coo, quiet enough for only Taeyang to hear. “He didn’t kiss you for your gift.”

He looks up at you with a half smile that’s really just his way of glaring. “Don’t get an ego. Yours was easy. I got one for him last year.” He bends forward just a little, eyes sparkling as he looks up at you through his lashes. “Are you forgetting already that I was here first?”

Your smile sours, leaning back against the cushions of the couch.

“First maybe,” you hum. “We’ll see who makes it out by the end of it.”

“With what?” He scoffs. “You think you and your little scam hold a candle to history?”

You raise a brow at him. “History? Of what? Dark corners and sneaking around? You think Intak will settle for that?”

Taeyang’s lips curl into a snarl. He opens his mouth but gets cut off when Intak’s shadow hovers over you.

He has a little pout on his lips when you look up at him.

“Not today,” he says in a tiny voice. “Please?”

You stand before Taeyang can, taking his hands in yours. “Sorry, Takki.” You grin when his eyes immediately light up. “Let’s dance?”

It’s a blur after that. Keeho takes over the aux, everyone migrates to the open space in the living room, Shota picks Jongseob up and twirls him around until he threatens to puke, and Taeyang corners himself in the kitchen as you herald Intak to a spot that’s visible to him.

It’s not just for show as you throw your arms around Intak and press yourself in close. It’s to feel him against you just as much as it is to see that scowl on Taeyang’s lips. It’s to breathe in his scent just as much as it is to see Taeyang’s hand tighten around his beer, veins webbing out under the pressure. It’s to have his eyes on you and you only just as much as it is to have Taeyang's.

“This is new,” Intak murmurs to you under the thud of the bass.

You lock your elbows at the back of his neck, smiling up at him. “It’s your birthday.”

He pouts. “So that kiss was just for my birthday? No other reason.”

“Do you want it to be for other reasons?”

Intak blushes down his neck and goes to drop his head on your shoulder, but you catch him with a hand to his jaw.

Your heart pounds as his gaze rests on yours, timid and wanting.

“Intak…” You start, sliding your hand down the expanse of his neck. He shudders under your palm, the pulse of his skin thrumming rapidly. “Do you want to—”

“Man!” Jackson appears at your left, lunging onto Intak and practically yanking him away. “You can kiss your little girlfriend later, come take some shots!”

You watch, helpless, as Intak is pulled away into the masses.

Your eyes catch Taeyang from the other side of the room, smirking over the lip of his beer as he throws it back.

You scowl at him. 

He winks at you.

The night escapes you in a blur of loud music, loud voices, and too much celebration. Intak is a little drunk and too caught up with his friends—but he seems happy. You don’t want to disrupt it, so you tuck yourself away on the secluded balcony.

You’re not sure how far it is into the night when you hear the door sliding open behind you.

“Having fun?” You ask, assuming it’s Intak.

Taeyang appears at your side instead, leaning against the railing not far beside you.

“Plenty,” he quips sarcastically.

You sigh. “Can’t go an hour without finding some way to bother me, can you?”

“I could say the same about you.”

“You are the one who came out here.”

“I couldn’t leave my brand new friend all alone out here.”

You turn to him with a glower. “I am not your friend.”

“Yeah?” He grins, tilting his head at you. The wind brushes his dark hair into his eyes. It bothers you that he doesn’t move to push the strands away, like he knows it’s attractive enough to throw you off. “What are we then? Nemeses?”

You click your tongue, turning back to the dark sky. “We’re nothing.”

But Taeyang’s eyes don’t leave you. They burn into the side of your face. 

Then you hear him laugh under his breath. 

“What?” You grumble. 

“You say I’m the one bothering you,” he muses, folding his arms over the railing, finally freeing you from the weight of his gaze. “But you have no idea how much you bother me even when you’re not around.”

You frown. Once again, his riddled way of talking starts to prickle at your skin. “What are you talking about?”

“He never shuts up about you.”

Confused, you turn to him with furrowed brows.

He meets your eye with a look you can’t quite dissect, something empty and listless. “I know too much about the way your eyes sparkle when you glare at him.”

You feel that familiar pounding in your chest pick up, the one that only Intak has been able to induce in you. “What are you talking about?”

His eyes drift down your face, resting somewhere on your lips. “There’s that frown,” he scoffs a laugh that fades quickly, like it’s bewitched out of him. “The one that drives him insane apparently.”

Your pounding heart starts to climb up your throat now. “Taeyang.” You step forward. “I don’t know what game this is but I—“

“That scold too,” he cuts in, grinning now. He mirrors your step, and even through the breeze you can feel the heat of his body closing in. “He’s right, it does kind of make you want to drop to your knees.”

Your face burns now. “What—“

“Annoying, right?” His smile is more of a scowl now. “Now you know how I feel. It’s never ending.”

Something in you snaps. 

You step forward again, shoving at his shoulder but he stands still, nearly pressed against you now. But you don’t back down. 

“What, you think he doesn’t talk about you all the time too?” You sneer at him, revelling in the way his lips give a minuscule twitch down. “I didn’t think you were that pitiful. He mentions you at least five times whenever we’re together.”

His brows climb up behind his bangs. “Oh? Does he talk about how pretty I—“

“Fuck off!” You snap, loud enough that he glances towards the door to see if you’d caught anyone’s attention. 

You don’t care enough to check for yourself. 

“Yeah, I fucking know what you look like, Tae,” you drag out his name is that sickeningly adoring way Intak says it. “I’m sick of hearing about it. I’m sick of seeing it!”

“So you agree? I’m pretty?”

You raise your hand to punch him, but he grabs your fist and yanks you into his chest. 

He’s right there. So close that your breaths tangle as one, so close that you can see those light flecks in his eyes that Intak has mused about, that you can see those freckles dusted artfully over his arched nose. 

So close that you can practically feel the plush of those soft, enticing lips on yours. 

So close that you give in. 

𓆩⟡𓆪

Intak can’t find you anywhere. Or Taeyang. He frowns, fully convinced that both of you had left with the crowd. 

He pouts to himself. So no birthday kiss then.

He floats through his apartment, a little floaty and buzzed from the alcohol slowly fading through his system, picking up bits and pieces of trash that he can, but he’s already given up on cleaning. He’ll deal with it tomorrow. 

But then he sees the shadow of a figure from the balcony at the end of the hall, and he reroutes. 

“Hey,” he calls as he approaches the door. “Everyone left, can you…”

Oh. It’s not just one person. 

It’s two people making out. He’s about to turn to give them some privacy, until his eyes adjust from the blur and suddenly he’s fully sober. 

Taeyang is practically devouring you whole with a hand in your hair to hold you still, the other gripping your ass to grind your body against him. But it’s not the usual dominance that Intak is used to seeing on him, no, it’s a fight for control. 

Because you don’t give it up easily, meeting his searing kiss with your own biting teeth and clawing hands in his chest, your leg pressing between his legs to draw out a moan Intak isn’t sure he’s heard from Taeyang before. 

All Intak can do is stand there and watch. He doesn’t know what to make of this, of you making out with Taeyang (if he can even call this that), of Taeyang making out with you. All he knows is that he’s a second away from his brain short circuiting. 

“What?” He says.

The way you jump back and push Taeyang into the concrete behind him would be comical if he weren’t on the verge of tears. 

“Intak,” you heave, turning to him with wide eyes. “Okay, that looks bad, that’s not what it looks like—“

“Do you two like each other?” Intak feels pathetic asking this, but he needs to know if he’s so screwed up that the two people he loves love each other and not him. 

“No!”

It’s from both you and Taeyang, and both you and Taeyang start immediately closing in on him. 

Taeyang reaches him first, grabbing him by the waist and pushing him into the warmth of his apartment. 

“Intak,” he pleads—Intak doesn’t remember the last time Taeyang has begged for anything—and takes his jaw to tilt his gaze up to him. “Fuck, I know I never say it but I only ever want you that way. You have to know that, don’t you?”

Intak’s heart swells at the sweet words. He’s never heard him so soft. 

“Takki.”

He turns his head to you as you plaster yourself to his other side, wrapping your hands around his bicep. 

“I know I’ve been confusing with my feelings but it’s only because I didn’t know how you feel but, fuck, I don’t care anymore.” You’re rambling, eyes wide and begging and frantic as they flit between his own. “I want you. Okay? Just you. I know I’m not crazy, I know you want me too.”

He does. Fuck, he wants you so bad.

Taeyang’s hand tugs Intak’s attention back to him, but Taeyang is glaring at you even as he speaks to him. “What we have is real, at least,” he says, then turns to look down at Intak, gaze softening, his thumb brushing his lip. “Isn’t that right?” 

“Would you call sneaking around real?” You sneer from the other side, and Taeyang’s hand takes on a possessive grip on Intak. 

“More real than whatever the hell you have going on,” Taeyang snaps back. 

Intak can’t take this anymore. His chest feels tight and his eyes are stinging. 

“At least I’m not using him for my own—“

“Stop!” He cries, pushing you both off of him. 

The alarm on your faces is matching too. He can’t believe he didn’t realize it sooner, how similar you both are. It makes him feel even more on the verge of crashing down. 

“I can’t do this,” he breathes, and he hears the way his voice shakes with emotion. He doesn’t care enough to stop his tears from welling. 

“Hey, Tak…” Taeyang starts, reaching for his cheek. Intak doesn’t pull away, not even as you take his hand in yours. 

“Please don’t do this right now,” he sobs, welled with too much emotion he’s been neglecting that’s spilling out at once now. 

Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest as you watch Intak cry. You’re not even mad as Taeyang shushes him and wipes away his tears—okay, you are a little. You’d rather it be you, but now is not the time. 

“I love you both,” Intak sniffles, lowering his head, fists clenching at his sides. “I-I can’t… Please…”

You want to scream and jump with joy and rub it in Taeyang’s face. But you’re not exactly given an upper hand. 

You can see the same turmoil in Taeyang when he glances at you before settling fully on Intak. 

“Okay,” he says quietly, cupping both of Intak’s cheeks. Something quells inside you when you see the way he handles Intak with such tenderness. “Okay. We’re sorry, okay?”

He tucks his forehead against Intak’s, gently nudging his gaze up. 

Intak blinks his eyes clear and looks up, lips still wobbling as he tries to settle himself. 

His lip juts out in an adorable little pout. One that even Taeyang isn’t immune to it seems, because he leans in to kiss it away. 

They meld well together. You know this. You saw it that first time you walked in on them. You see it now as Intak immediately melts into Taeyang, letting the older boy set him against the wall behind him as he kisses away his woes. 

It’s a kind of pain you don’t know what to do with. Would you ever be that good with him?

When Taeyang pulls away, your breath nearly catches with the reverence that Intak looks up at him with. 

And then he’s looking at you, and you feel frozen where you stand. 

He makes a tiny noise at the back of his throat, unintelligible and nearly silent. But Taeyang seems to understand him. 

He looks at you over his shoulder with none of that edge from before. He himself looks tamed, like Intak had settled him just as he’d done for Intak. 

The thought is a little head spinning. 

Taeyang gives you the faintest of smiles, like he’s watching that understanding in you play out in real time. The nod of his head is minuscule and very missable. 

But it’s enough to get you stepping forward. 

Intak’s hand bunches into your skirt when you step in, like he’s too scared to make direct contact as his wide eyes search you for something, for some morsel that you understand his need. 

It’s a standstill, just waiting for the other to make the move as you stare on. 

But then Taeyang, ever the instigator, is whispering in your ear, lips brushing warm air into you. 

“Scared?”

Intak’s lips are salty and a little chapped, but they’re eager as they immediately chase yours. 

It’s more frantic than you expect, but this is Intak, so you really should have expected. 

He makes a noise into your mouth, high and needy, when you deepen the kiss. His head thuds against the wall as it falls back when you press in, but he only seeks you out when you try to pull away. 

You let him kiss you again, let him dig his hand in your hair and pull you back in. 

You let him kiss you silly until you're breathless and dizzy, until Taeyang has to physically pry you away from him with an arm around your shoulder and a hand under your jaw. 

“Easy, puppy,” Taeyang teases, taking hold of Intak’s jaw with his other hand when he immediately tries to chase you again. 

Intak blinks at the touch, the daze in his eye clearing just a bit when he starts to remember himself again. 

“You don’t want to smother her already, do you?” Taeyang hums, wiping the spit off of Intak’s swollen lips with his thumb. 

Intak whines softly, a pained one that has you on your toes ready to interject, but then Taeyang is pressing his leg between Intak’s hips and grinding it up. 

Taeyang clicks his tongue, and you cower a little like he’s scolding you. “Just from a little kissing?”

Your eyes widen, flitting down to where Intak is mindlessly bucking into Taeyang’s thigh. 

“Tae’ng,” Intak whines in a tiny voice, blinking his eyes pleadingly. 

If it were you, you’d give whatever Intak wanted on the spot with just that look alone. But Taeyang seems to have built up some sort of immunity to it. 

“Easy,” Taeyang says, grabbing Intak by the back of his neck and squeezing down. “I’ll take care of you, ‘kay?”

When Taeyang looks at you, you’re not sure what to do. You consider running. 

“Well?” Taeyang raises a brow. 

You have no idea what to say. He rolls his eyes, but he’s not annoyed. Amused, maybe. 

“Do you want to learn?” He prods. “In case he chooses you.”

Intak is about to start up again, but Taeyang squeezes down on his neck without even looking and cuts him off.

You don’t know what to do with those words. Or that tumbling feeling inside your stomach. 

So you just nod. 

Taeyang smiles. “Good.”

Then he’s hauling Intak forward, hand still on his neck as if he were scruffing him, and leading him back to the living room. 

You trail after, a tangle of nerves and thrill vining through your blood. 

Taeyang sets Intak down on his knees in front of the couch, and Intak goes down willingly. That alone should not affect you as much as it does. 

Taeyang sits down on the couch in front of Intak, a little off centre, then beckons you forward to take the empty space beside him. 

You stay planted. This could be a trap. 

Taeyang reads you, giving you one of those amused little grins. “Come on. He doesn’t bite.”

Intak doesn’t say anything. He just sits there, waiting, like he’s under some trance. What exactly has Taeyang done to him?

You feel out of place suddenly. But you move forward when Taeyang beckons you again with his hand, settling down beside him. 

It’s almost dizzying to see Intak like this in front of you, eyes wide and glazed over as he simply sits there and waits for… orders?

You glance at Taeyang, cheeks burning when you realize he’s watching your epiphanies play out on your face. 

“It’s a little unbelievable, isn’t it?” He asks you, reaching forward to slide his hand into the side of Intak’s hair. 

Intak visibly preens, turning to nuzzle into the touch. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, watching the steady rise and fall of Intak’s chest as he watches Taeyang with pure and unbridled trust. 

It’s nothing like you’ve seen or experienced before. 

“He trusts you,” Taeyang murmurs, like he himself is starstruck by the sight, cradling and caressing Intak’s head. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be here.”

You swallow the lump that starts to form in your throat. 

“It might be hard to believe but it’s not easily earned.” Taeyang is looking at you now, making sure the words get through to you. “Don’t break it.”

You say it easily. “I won’t.”

Like this, watching you talk about him like he’s not there, Intak’s eyes seem to get even more lost. Like his immediate conscience is slipping away and giving full reign to you. 

The problem is you don’t know if you can trust yourself with this. 

“Good,” Taeyang says, almost solemnly. You’re not sure why. But before you can pry, Taeyang is turning to Intak. “Go on.”

Intak immediately moves to action, reaching for Taeyang’s belt. 

But Taeyang stops him, taking his wrists and smiling down at the confused look Intak fixes him with. “Not me,” he says, then looks up at you. “Her.”

A jolt of electricity shoots through you at the prospect. You were only anticipating to watch—you barely had your first kiss with Intak. Now this?

You look up at Taeyang to see him with a question in his eye. One that you find yourself nodding to without much preamble. 

So Taeyang gently pushes Intak to you, and Intak immediately follows, shuffling to settle himself in front of your legs. 

He stares up at you with the same nervousness that you’re feeling, throat bobbing with a tight swallow as he places his warm hands on the skin of your knees. 

“C-Can I?”

You can’t find the words. So you nod. 

But Intak doesn’t move. He just sits there and waits like you hadn’t given a response at all. 

“Words,” Taeyang says from your right. “He responds to words.”

That’s a punch to the gut. “Oh,” you breathe, the word stumbling out before you can stop it, not that you would. “Yes.”

His hands move then. Slow as they trace up the plush of your thighs, under your skirt, and settle on the soft silk of your panties. His eyes still don’t leave you, like they’re gauging your reactions, as he slips the fabric off of you. 

But then they catch onto the damp spot stained on the fabric, and it’s all the confirmation he needs before he tosses it aside and pounces. 

He slips his hands behind your knees, pulls you to the edge of the cushion, and delves in. 

You barely get a second to prepare yourself before he’s digging under your skirt and sliding the flat of his tongue through your slick. 

Your mouth falls open as a moan gets ripped from you. You slap your hand over your mouth, but the damage is done. 

It only fuels Intak, spurs him on to lap at you like a man starved, licking through you like he’s determined to drink up everything you’ve got. 

The sounds are obscene, and embarrassing, and it’s so much when the tip of his tongue starts to flick at your clit that your body starts to seize up and bow off the couch, thighs closing in on his head as you—

Taeyang rips Intak off of you with a hand in his hair, and the waning high smoothes away to nothing. 

Your body crashes back down, your heavy breaths reeling your soul back into your body. 

Intak whimpers and writhes under Taeyang’s tight grip, trying to escape. 

“Slowly,” Taeyang scolds, then looks up at you. “You can’t just let him do whatever he wants or it’ll be over before it even starts.”

“Yeah no fucking kidding,” you grumble, picking yourself back. You straighten up again, honing in on Taeyang’s fingers tangled down on Intak’s hair. 

You reach out, carding your fist in through the inky locks by Taeyang’s hand. 

“Good girl,” Taeyang beams, just a little patronizing as he lets go. “You’re quick on the pick up.”

You shoot him a quick glare, too caught up on your slick smothered all over Intak’s mouth. “Shut up.”

Taeyang doesn’t say anything as he watches you guide Intak back to your cunt. 

As soon as Intak starts to take more than you’re willing to give, you give his hair a tug and reel him back. 

You settle with a sigh as he starts to lap at you with slow, pointed slides of his tongue through your folds, the tip of his tongue tracing your hole with each sharp pass. 

It’s a steady stream of pleasure instead of a barrage, and it has you melting back into the cushions. 

“‘S good,” you whisper without meaning to, folding your legs and shifting down to give him a better angle, and Intak takes the opportunity to close his mouth around you as he circles your entrance. 

He lets out a little whine when you murmur another mindless bit of praise. 

“He likes that,” Taeyang says quietly beside you, leaning a little into the bubble you’ve created with Intak, like he’s trying not to interrupt this flow you’ve created. “He likes hearing how he’s doing.”

You file that piece of information away, your clit pulsing at the thought of uncovering all the little things Intak likes. 

You move your other hand down to cup his jaw and lift him so his mouth aligns to your clit, and he obediently takes the hint. 

He latches down on that pulsing and sucks down. The sudden sharp sensation makes your hand clamp tighter in his hair and he immediately lets up, opting instead to draw slow, tight circles with the tip of his tongue. 

“Ah, fuck,” you moan, your head falling back to the cushion. “Just like that, Takki…”

He whimpers against you, growing just a little more eager as he flicks his tongue against you now, but you let it happen as that coil in your gut winds tighter. 

Your hips are helpless to start grinding up against his face, your hands holding him in place to chase that burning pleasure of his mouth on you. 

And Intak is all the more happy to give it to you as you get off on him, your toes curling in, your back bowing off the cushions, your thighs clamping down on his head. 

His hands dig into your thighs, but only to hold them in even as they suffocate him. 

He just takes it as you practically ride his face, moaning his name like a repeated prayer as you chase that high. 

You’re too brainless on his tongue to realize his suffocated predicament, but Taeyang knows that Intak yearns for this, to be used until he’s hurting, so he just lets it happen as you do, crashing down with a wanton cry of his name. 

Even as you let go of him, liquid on the couch, Intak lays there with his head still buried in you, lapping up every bit of you without a drop to spare. 

Taeyang almost laughs. Man or woman, Intak is the same bit of eager. 

He reaches over to scratch into Intak’s hair, smiling when Intak blinks those glassy eyes up at him, cheek smushed against your leg, lips obscenely slick. 

“Always messy, aren’t you?”

Intak pouts, shaking Taeyang’s hand off. “Can’t help it,” he mumbles before he leans back into your twitching cunt and licks up a stripe like he can urge you to give him more, but you’re hissing at the sensation and pushing him off. 

“N-No more.”

Intak pouts, but relents, pulling back to sit on his heels and wait for the next order. 

Your eyes widen a little, then flit over at Taeyang, and Taeyang nearly laughs again. 

“What?” He raises a brow. “Don’t tell me you’re already tapped out.”

“No,” you say defensively, quickly sitting up on wobbly bones. 

“Good. Because he won’t stop until he’s fucked up, or you are.”

Taeyang watches as you blink in the information, glance between the two men, and process it. 

“How long do you two go for?”

“Hours, usually.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

You swallow, looking down at Intak who’s grown more timid and hunched in. 

Taeyang sighs. He’s got his work cut out for him. 

“You’re not a virgin, right?” Taeyang asks, just to be sure. 

You shake your head. 

“Good.” He stands up, taking your arm and pulling you up to your feet, ignoring your complaint and the swat you throw at his arm with your free hand. “Intak, clothes off, on your back.”

Intak, like always, spurs to action. He throws off his shirt and stumbles out of his jeans, scrambling to lay on his back on the couch. 

“He likes to be on his back, receiving or giving,” he whispers to you, but his words go lost to you.

Taeyang watches you practically drool at the outline of Intak’s cock pressing against his boxers, remembers the feeling himself when he’d first seen just how lucky he’d gotten with Intak. 

“Yeah,” he snorts, then whispers into your ear. “Good luck.”

But you don’t respond, still too struck by the sight of Intak, the smooth expanse of his tanned skin and toned body all splayed out in its full glory like an offering. 

He can’t really blame you. 

Taeyang smirks, reaching for your waist to grab the hem of your top. “Need help?” He asks as he starts to slide the shirt up. 

You immediately swat at his hands. “I can undress myself,” you spit. 

Taeyang is very glad your fire isn’t fucked out yet. That would be boring. 

You pull the shirt off and reach for your skirt, but Taeyang takes your wrist.

“Keep the skirt. And the bra. He likes it.”

Intak looks up at Taeyang with furrowed brows, but Taeyang shoots him a sharp look that promptly shuts him up. 

Okay, fine, maybe it’s Taeyang that likes the skirt on. You don’t need to know that. 

You drop your hands to your sides, and Taeyang lets go. 

“I don’t need to teach you how to ride him, do I?” Taeyang asks, just to be a dick, and smiles satisfied when you glare at him. 

Intak’s right. It is nice to be on the receiving end of it. Fun even, to invoke it at every chance. 

You don’t answer though, turning instead to Intak and climbing onto his lap. 

Taeyang’s own dick throbs in its confines as you grind yourself down, throwing Intak’s head back as his lips part with a moan. 

He’s hit with the visceral need to see those lips stretched full with him again, but now is not the time. 

You seem as impatient as him though, because you’re quick to start shoving down Intak’s boxers. Taeyang is helpful enough to take them off the rest of the way as you ogle him. 

Intak bucks his hips up with a tiny sound, a little skittish at the attention. 

But you can’t help but admire him in all his girth, flushed and thick and veiny and spilling onto his abdomen. 

Then your stomach lurches with the realization that you’ll have to take him inside. 

Taeyang sees your turmoil, and settles himself behind you. 

“He’ll fit,” he says like he knows it for a fact. 

“You don’t fucking know that,” you snap, turning to glower at him, but Taeyang simply smiles over your shoulder. 

“Sure I do. If I can take him, you certainly can.”

Oh.

Your cheeks burn as you turn back to Intak, adjusting yourself where you sit on your knees just for something to do. 

If he puts it like that…

You dig your teeth into your lip as you reach for Intak’s cock. It’s heavy in your hand, pulsing with life and twitching as your fist closes around it. 

A breath rushes out of you as you drag your hand up, drinking up the pained moan Intak lets out, watching the pearly bead of precum seep out of his tip. 

It’s too dry. So you lean over to spit onto the tip, watching the moisture glisten down the shaft for a moment too long before you use your hand to spread it. 

It’s not long before you get him moaning and writhing under you with each drag of your fist. You have your other hand between your thighs trying to stretch yourself open on two fingers, but it’s a hard task to focus on both. 

Taeyang’s hand presses to the skin of your back, sudden and warmer than you expect for such a cold person. 

“Let me?” He asks, and you falter. 

You trust Intak. But you’re not so sure you trust him just yet. 

Intak trusts him though. That counts for something, right?

And you can’t deny the fact that Taeyang makes you… feel sometimes. So, what the hell. 

You slip your hand out of yourself and lean forward, bracing on Intak’s chest as you angle your hips up enough to give Taeyang access. 

You think you hear his breath hitch. But it might’ve been a glitch in the wind, because soon enough his fingers are tracing through your slit. 

You shudder at the feathery, almost ticklish touch. You expect him to tease you, but then he’s prodding a finger in and effectively putting your own efforts to shame with just that single digit. 

He fucks it in and out of you in a steady pace, his other hand shucking up your skirt and holding you down by the flesh of your ass. 

You moan when he pushes in the second finger, letting you settle on it before he scissors them apart and fucks them into you. 

It’s a little painful, but it burns so good. 

Intak grows impatient under you, bucking his hips up to fuck into the loose ring of your fist. 

“S-Sorry,” you gasp, tightening your hand and starting up again. 

But the rhythm is jerky and not very pleasurable, because you’re too busy getting fucked dumb on Taeyang’s fingers. 

Intak would normally complain, but he can’t. Not when he has this above him. 

So he makes himself lay there and watch as Taeyang opens you up on three fingers, body itching with anticipation to just be in you already. 

Taeyang notices this, and smirks at him over your shoulder. 

“You’re quiet today,” he says and Intak wants to crawl away and hide from those wolfish eyes. 

You giggle through one of your moans, fucking yourself back on Taeyang’s fingers. “Think he’s shy. Weird.”

Intak might just die tonight. He’s somehow gotten himself two shit stirrers. 

But he wants to fuck them first and then die. 

So he whines and bucks up his hips again. “Hurry… please,” he tacks on quickly as an afterthought at Taeyang’s sharp look. 

You shudder as Taeyang slips his hand out of you, Taeyang looking not too happy to have to pull away so soon. “You’re ready,” he tells you with a pat on your hips. 

Intak can see the way you hold back from rolling your eyes. You laser in on Intak, rolling your hips down to glide your cunt over the length of him. 

Intak’s eyes roll back at the warmth on his sensitive skin, lips falling open as he shudders. 

And when your entrance catches against his tip, he nearly bucks you off. 

But Taeyang is reaching over you, grabbing his hips and holding him down. His cock jerks under your slick cunt, his head feeling dizzy being handled like this. 

And when you sink down, oh, it’s over for him. 

He wails at the tightness of your warm walls sucking him in, your own moans lost on him. 

It’s been so long since he’s been with a woman. With anyone other than Taeyang, really. He forgot just how slick it is, how warm, how inviting. 

He shudders with an airy whine as you bottom out, completely numb to your nails digging into his pecs. His fists have a death grip on your thighs but he’s not sure you notice them either. 

He’s so tense and sensitive, jerking under you as you rise back up just to sink down so, so slowly as you get used to him. 

He can’t look away from the look on your face, pure emotion on it as you try to find the right angle. Pain, bliss, need—it’s all there. Because of Intak.

Yeah, he’s not gonna last long. 

It’s even worse when Taeyang takes your hips, and starts to guide you, up and down with a grind at the base that has both Intak and you moaning in tandem. 

“Just like that,” Taeyang coos, smiling into your cheek before he glances down at Intak. “Doin’ so good, isn’t she, Takki?”

Intak bristles at the question. He’s never been on this end before. But he nods quickly, emphasizing it with a thrust up. 

It makes your body jerk in Taeyang’s grasp, head falling back to his shoulder. 

“F-Fuck!” You cry.

“Yeah,” Taeyang chuckles, one hand sliding forward to settle at your lower abdomen. “He’s so deep, isn’t he?”

Then he pushes down and watches you cry and shudder at the pressure. 

“T-Ta—ah!” 

Intak’s breath hitches just as Taeyang’s does. Whose name you were about to call, they don’t know. But Intak knows Taeyang hopes it was his. 

Taeyang reaches instead to tug the cup of your bra down so he can tweak at your nipple, only driving you more frantic as you fuck yourself on Intak’s cock just the way Taeyang had shown you. Slow and deep and with a grind that makes Intak’s balls tighten each time. 

He starts to meet your thrusts at some point, breathless and desperate and so close that it’s nearly painful. 

Suddenly he’s back to that night, lonely and with his hand and just the image of you like this, riding him with Taeyang at your back. 

It’s over for him when Taeyang reaches down to lift your skirt, when he gets a glimpse of your pussy stretched around his cock and creaming around it. 

It comes without warning—he bows up off the couch with a strangled yell of your name, nails digging into your thighs as he fucks his cum up into you, spilling deep. 

He crashes down with a gasp, the tension leaving his body all at once. It takes a moment but you rise off of him on shaky limbs, sliding off of him with a hiss. 

Intak can only let out a pathetic little whine when he sees himself spilling out of you, and is about to beg you to take him back in so you can finish too. 

But he sees that pinched look on Taeyang’s face as he watches you breathe yourself back in. So he waits. 

“You okay?” Taeyang asks you. 

You nod with a shudder, falling back against him, too weak to hold up on your own. 

Taeyang catches you around your waist, a little shocked, but he seems in no rush to push you away. Especially not when you grind your hips back into him, making him hiss. 

“You’re hard,” you mumble, a little slurred as you watch him from his shoulder. 

“No shit,” he says, strained. 

Intak has to pull himself from falling asleep when he sees that tentative look on your face. “You can…” You start to say, trailing off with a deeper flush. 

Taeyang looks down at you, a little alarmed. “Did he fuck your brain out of you that quickly?”

You scowl at him, elbowing him on your way back up to your knees. “Do you want to fuck me or not?” You snap, and that gets Taeyang to shut up. “We could both use it.”

Intak catches Taeyang’s eyes. And Taeyang knows full well that he can offer up Intak again to help you finish, but Taeyang also wouldn’t miss an opportunity for himself. Intak knows Taeyang too. 

So Taeyang rises to his knees and pushes you down with a hand between your shoulders, bending you over as he works off his jeans with his other hand. 

Intak’s breath hitches when you brace yourself on his chest, and he nearly moans himself when your body bucks forward as Taeyang pushes into you with no delay. 

Watching this from the outside is… well, Intak could probably cum again just from this if he weren’t so gone already. 

The slap of skin on skin is piercing, rough and frantic as Taeyang fucks you over Intak’s body. 

There’s no mercy as he holds your hips in place and takes, there never is with him. But it’s not an issue for you, whose eyes are rolled back, jaw gaped, moans fucked out with each hard snap of Taeyang’s relentless hips. 

Watching you cum is a sight he wants to imprint in the back of his eyes. All Intak can do is hold your hands through it, sympathetic as Taeyang only barrels forward despite your pained whines with his guttural grunts until he gets what he needs, spilling inside of you with a deep grunt as he plasters himself to your back. 

The weight of both your bodies on top of him, boneless and heaving, is far too heavy. But Intak wouldn’t be anywhere else. 

Your eyes are fluttering in and out of consciousness, but Taeyang’s are locked right on Intak’s. 

A silent question. You okay?

Intak answers by leaning up to kiss him. 

Taeyang responds with a pleased hum and languid lips, kissing Intak back down to the cushion. His hand comes up to card through Intak’s hair, and Intak positively preens. 

This is his favourite part. The after.

He feels a tingle in his cheek and peeks his eyes open to see your wide eyes watching them. 

But they quickly flick away when you’ve been caught. Intak pulls back from Taeyang, who only latches onto his jaw. 

“Kiss?” Intak asks, only feeling a little pathetic. But he beams as soon as you lean in, eager and all too pleased as he meets your lips. 

It feels a little strange, kissing Intak with Taeyang still buried inside you, but something about it is weirdly comforting. Like you’re being held from all sides. 

So when Taeyang tongues his way into the kiss, you don’t even complain. 

And even when at some point you’re only kissing Taeyang, you don’t pull away. 

You lean in with a soft hum, pliant as he tongues his way into the seam of your lips. And he takes it when you search his mouth with your own, no more fighting, no more pushing. 

You tilt your head when he asks with a hand on your jaw, moan for him when he nips with his teeth. It’s peaceful. 

Until you hear a muffled sniffle. 

You part immediately, looking down to see Intak with his hands over his face as he tries to rub away his tears as they fall. 

“Intak?” Taeyang asks, every bit alarmed as you feel as he lets go of you to pry Intak’s hands away. But Intak refuses to look at either of you, fixing his teary eyes up at the ceiling. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t choose,” he whispers through a sob like he’s mourning already. 

Your chest aches as another sob wracks through his body, twisting his pretty face with all the pain in the world. 

“Please,” he weeps, finally looking up at you. “Please don’t make me choose.”

It comes without a question, you realize as you lift your gaze to meet Taeyang’s. 

“Maybe you don’t have to.”

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1 reblog/comment = 1 virtual kiss <3

You hadn’t really known what to expect. 

In dramas, after a confession, things were usually a little awkward, shy, sweet. But the day after Jackson confessed to you, he nearly bit your hand off when you tried to steal one of his dumplings. Granted, you bit him first, but it was his job to be chivalrous, not yours. 

“Um, maybe eat your own before you try to steal mine?”

“I’m literally just a girl, Jackson.”

A few weeks after said confession, things were still mostly the same, as you were awoken by someone pinching your cheek. Bleary eyed, you squinted, looking up at a very hot, very annoyed face. 

“Where the hell is my academy sweatshirt? I’m gonna be late for my shift,” he huffed, giving you another pinch. Jackson worked part time at an MMA academy, teaching a class of young children. Unfortunately, that meant three days out of the week, he had to wake up at 7 in the morning to be ready by 8. And if he was up, so were you. 

“I dunno,” you whined groggily, rolling over. “I didn’t wear it. Promise.”

“Liar,” he accuses. 

“Mmn. ‘m not lying, check my laundry.”

You hear shuffling, the sound of your hamper being opened (filled with clean clothes, because dirty clothes go on the bathroom floor of course), and quickly tug the blanket over your head as Jackson calls your bluff. 

“At least it’s clean,” you attempt to plead your case, but the covers are yanked off. You yelp as Jackson flips you onto your back and begins to tickle you. 

“Didn’t wear it, huh? Seriously, of all my clothes?” he snarls, fingers digging into your sides. You can’t speak; you instead make animalistic noises of possession as you attempt to free yourself. You wrap your legs around his waist and shove at his chest, shouting apologies in between fits of laughter. 

At last, the tickling ends, and you all but collapse against the sheets, sprawled out like half a starfish. 

“I’m going to start charging you for the things you steal,” Jackson says, breathless himself from the efforts of torture. Only then are you made aware that his hands are on your thighs. You don’t think he’s doing it on purpose, until you do, when he squeezes them beneath his palms and brushes his thumbs under your pajama shorts. 

“Hey,” you warn, wriggling beneath him. He laughs and leans over you. 

“What?”

“You know what. Get off of me.”

He sighs, letting his head drop down as though weary. 

When he looks at you again, his eyes have gone all soft, and it makes you feel warm and tingly inside. You swallow and force yourself to look away. You weren’t completely immune to his charms and didn’t want to risk it, answering the question he hadn’t asked. 

“Nope.”

That was the deal. 

Kissing was alright—as long as it wasn’t too long or too deep. Touching was fine too, just avoid any erogenous zones. Truthfully, you weren’t sure why you’d placed such heavy restrictions on your…relationship? Whatever this was. Probably because at the end of the day, you were still terrified of losing him. Of crossing a bridge that crumbles behind you, never being able to return to where you were. 

Right now, the two of you could still be around your friends, could still shamelessly flirt and insist it isn’t flirting. When you’d shown up to dinner with the guys, your hand clasped in Jackson’s to test the waters, no one said a word. Youngjae crinkled his nose and said it was cringe…and that’s it. That was the only reaction. The only people surprised about this development were the two of you, apparently, mostly you. And, you hadn’t realized how horny you were for one another. 

When you’d stare at him after a shower, when he had the audacity to drink juice from the carton wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, you noticed that…you’ve always stared. That wasn’t new. It’s just that you were now aware of it, and also very aware of how it felt to see his throat working as he swallows, beads of water dripping down his chest and following the dip of his abs like a treasure map for your tongue—

But it went both ways, fortunately, as Jackson’s playful way of grabbing your waist when you were busily bent over no longer felt fun, but rather, made you want to push against him, feel his hands sliding elsewhere, because god had they always been so big? Had his fingers always been so long?

Presently, Jackson rolls his eyes and kisses your cheek. You refuse to look at him still, so he tilts down, where his lips brush your throat; when your head snaps up to scold him, he takes the opportunity to catch your lips with his, sighing as though relieved. 

Kissing him feels so normal that it’s almost painful, like every second his lips are against yours, you ask yourself why you were so stupid, why you hadn’t noticed before, why you hadn’t understood that the feelings you’ve had for him were being confused for platonic when they were much, much closer to something akin to lo—

“Mmff…ou’re ‘unna ‘ee ate,” you mumble, though Jackson doesn’t stop kissing you. You giggle as your words are slurred by his mouth, which in turn makes him smile, which in turn makes you wrap your arms around his neck and consider begging him to let the kids down just this once. 

You know he wouldn’t hesitate. So that’s why you groan and push him away. You squirm from beneath him before he can snatch you up, fixing your pajamas as though you were preparing to walk the red carpet. When you look up at Jackson, he’s on his knees on your bed, hands gripping the covers and head tilted to the side. Oh. 

“Stop looking at me like that, puppy boy,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. You cross your arms, taking on the weight of the world’s strongest soldier as Jackson fucking Wang silently begs to bend you over the mattress

Jackson lets his legs slip over the side, feet planted on the floor as he tugs you toward him by the strings of your shorts. You whine in protest—losing a drawstring was so—

“I think you like it when I beg,” Jackson says, voice too low to be good for your health. You look at him in surprise, his expression hasn’t really changed, but why did he have to do this to you?

“I think you’re gonna be late,” you huff, feeling your cheeks redden. 

“I think you’re cute when you blush.”

“I think—”

“I think we’re gonna be good for each other.”

“It was my turn,” you pout. “I think you need a cold shower.”

Jackson mumbles something you don’t catch as he nuzzles his face against your stomach. His arms hang loosely around your hips, and you’re once again left with emotional whiplash as the man somehow goes from fuck me~ to hold me in the span of a few seconds. You swallow and rake your fingers through his hair (which he pulls at less nowadays, thanks to your nagging). 

“I want to,” you say quietly, nails scratching at his head. “But I’m scared. Like…we could probably bounce back from this, and from holding hands and even kissing. But I’m afraid that I’d never be able to, you know, not hurt around you the further we go if things turn out bad. We just don’t know what’ll happen if we commit. That’s scary.”

To your surprise, Jackson squeezes you tighter. He tilts his head back to look up at you, his chin resting just above your belly button. 

“What is it gonna take, pie?” he asks softly. Your brows furrow, though he continues. “What’s it gonna take for you to realize I’ve been yours this entire time?”

Your breath catches in your throat; you know he can feel it from the way your stomach tightens. He noses at the material of your top, planting a kiss there. Then the bastard opens his mouth again. You can taste his words.

“You own me, baby.”

You wake up confused and sweaty, fumbling around for your phone. You grab the device and groan—it’s not even five in the morning, and it’s a saturday. 

The dream woke you up. You and Jackson had an idea to conserve water, apparently, sharing a shower too small for one person let alone two. Your brain filled in the blanks for the missing information, unfortunately for you, though you had no doubt he was as beautiful in this reality, too.

It was almost impossible for you to go back to sleep after waking up usually, so you throw the covers off with much more attitude than necessary before quietly stepping out of your room. The light beneath Jackson’s door is off, and you tiptoe down the hall, but when you round the corner to the kitchen you gasp in surprise. 

Jackson raises a brow at you, taking a sip from the bottle of water in his hand. He’s wearing nothing but black boxers, showing off the lean muscles he works so hard on. So very hard. 

“You’re up?” he asks, and by his raspy tone it’s clear he woke up not long before you. You nod and shrug for no reason at all other than to distract from the fact that your eyes are eating him alive. He has the sexiest bedhead, and the thin chain he wears glints as it drapes over his collar bones.

“Thirsty,” you lie. You move past him to reach the fridge, but an arm hooks around your waist. You inhale sharply as you’re tugged against his chest, the warmth of him shooting tingles down your back. You swallow, and he holds the bottle in front of you. 

“Here,” he mumbles. He sounds so casual, like his actions hadn’t just made your soul briefly leave your physical form. You take the water from him and tilt your head back for a sip, not having realized how thirsty you were until you’ve finished half of it. 

You turn around, though he doesn’t release you, so you remain pressed to his bare chest. You have no idea why, but you lean forward and kiss him just below his collar bone, realizing too late how cruel you were being. In an attempt to make it chaste, you kiss the other side, right above his heart, though Jackson’s hand flies to your hair. He cups the back of your head and refuses to let you move. 

“Jackson,” you protest, but he whines. 

He fucking. Whines. 

“Please, pie. Just keep your lips on me. Please,” he breathes. You exhale a shaky breath and nod. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, and you swear he sighs with relief. You watch his face, tilting in again and pressing another kiss to the same spot as before. Jackson nods, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. 

You kiss the center of his chest, lips dragging over his skin to his left pec. When you move a tad bit lower, this time where his heart beats, he hisses and tightens his grip in your hair. You gasp for all the right reasons, though he doesn’t know that.  

“Fuck, sorry,” he whispers as though the two of you are sneaking around rather than doing…whatever this was in the middle of your shared kitchen. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you giggle softly. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

Jackson looks down at you, his expression morphing completely into…calmness? But it still puts you on edge. 

“What’d I say?” you ask with a frown. 

“I haven’t had sex in almost a year,” he admits. 

You blink. 

“You…what?” you breathe, shaking your head. “But, you’ve had tinder…you’ve gone on dates.”

Jackson pulls you close again, silently asking for more kisses. You realize he might’ve been right…you like when he begs. You kiss him as he asks, this time close to his nipple, and he shudders.

“I’m not gonna fuck a girl who wants more than I can give her,” he says. You mouth over his skin, tongue reaching the edge of his areola. You like his answer. 

“Why can’t you give her what she wants?” you ask, knowing what he’ll say but wanting to hear it all the same. Jackson knows this too, but he’s more than happy to give you what you want. 

“Because she—fuck—”

Your tongue lathes over his nipple and he grips the counter tight. 

“—’cause she’s not you,” he finishes. “None of them are. Can’t be anything for anyone except you. Wanna…wanna be everything to you.”

“You are…you are…” you mumble carelessly, barely kissing him, but rather rubbing your mouth on his chest. He seems more than okay with that, his head falling back, though he shakes it. 

“I’m not, baby. I’ve got so much to give you, gonna show you what it’s like to be loved right, fucked right, needed right. I need you, y/n. I-I fucking need you so bad. Always have.”

You were supposed to be turning him on, not getting choked up, but you pulled back and covered your face. Jackson was still a little breathless and out of it, but he grabbed at your wrists.

“Sorry, fuck, was that…was that bad? I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you mumble, wiping helplessly at tears that slide down your cheeks. Jackson pulls you forward, crushing you to his chest. He wraps both arms around you so tight you can barely breathe. You love it. 

What else do you love?

You love that you can feel his cock pressing against the inside of your thigh, that you can feel how much he wants from you. You swallow your tears and reach between you, your palm finding the thick outline beneath his boxers and squeezing. 

Jackson’s reaction is visceral and downright sinful. He jumps, then buries his face into your hair. 

“Again, p-please,” he mumbles. You do it again. There’s a weird mix between sadness and horniness between you, but you keep going, sliding your hand up and down his clothed length. He’s definitely thick and a little longer than average, but not frighteningly so. 

Thick enough to make you choke, but not enough to bruise your cervix. Perfect. Somehow, you think you know exactly what it feels like to be fucked by him. 

“Jesus fuck—I don’t care if I get to fuck you, just please…let me taste you, baby,” Jackson grunts, hips lazily bucking against you. 

That…sounds alright with you. You take your hand off his cock and grab his wrist to pull him to his room, but he twists you around so that your back is to the counter. You open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, but the words die on your tongue when he drops to his knees. 

“J-Jackson, you don’t have t-to…”

“Shh, baby,” he mumbles, cupping the backs of your thighs. You feel dumb, forgetting how to speak. “Let me make you feel good. Wanna hear those pretty sounds you make when you play with yourself.”

Your cheeks flush pink, Jackson’s words hardly registering in your brain. He hooks his fingers into the elastic of your pajama shorts, leaning forward to kiss the front of your thigh before he begins tugging them down. 

“W-What do you mean when I pla—oh…”

Jackson doesn’t hesitate, going face first between your legs and groaning. The vibrations ring through your inner thighs and go straight to your clit, nearly sending you down. He hadn’t even touched you properly yet. 

“If you tell me you didn’t want me to hear you fucking yourself, I’m gonna call you a liar,” he whispers. His lips graze over the hair you keep trimmed—you could be a little self conscious about that at times, a couple past partners even commenting on it, but Jackson is worshipping your pussy without words and you’ve never felt so perfectly adequate. 

You think over what he said once you regain a little bit of consciousness. And fuck.

You were tired of this sort of hindsight ability you had now, the way you felt when you thought back to the times you were so obviously head over heels in love with him and had convinced yourself you were friends. 

Like fucking yourself with your favorite toy, back to the wall splitting your rooms. Moaning loud even though you didn’t do that when he wasn’t home.

“S-Sorry,” you whimper, because what the fuck else are you supposed to say? You feel warmth as Jackson breathes a laugh against your thighs, teeth grazing the sensitive skin near your labia. 

“It’s okay, baby. Just do it again for me, hm? While I’m in the same room at least?”

Did he have to be such a fucking brat? You thought “pie” and his attitude would disappear after all of this, but you were sorely mistaken. You opened your mouth to complain.

Jackson pushed your thighs open wider, settling between them and looking up at you from his knees. You squeaked, and the last thing you saw before his face disappeared was that smug grin underneath his pretty brown eyes. 

You learned two lessons very quickly. One: 

Jackson Wang ate pussy like his life depended on it. 

And two, you were immediately jealous of any woman who’d ever had him like this, on his knees between their legs. This should be illegal. 

His tongue slid between your tender pussy lips, expertly finding your clit and daring to flick at it beneath the hood. Your knees did buckle, but he hugged your thighs and kept you upright, taking the opportunity to squeeze and knead at your ass. You reached down and gripped his hair for purchase, tugging, eliciting a groan from him that felt better than any dick you’d ever had. You did it again, and this time he practically sang praises into you—he was literally fucking you with his moans. 

“Jesus fuck, Jackson?” you ask, unable to do much else other than feel and squeak out your needs. His fingers dug into the plushness of your thighs, though one hand slipped beneath your shirt. His thumb grazed over your nipple before gently pinching it, and you were ready to die. 

When he sucked the tender flesh of your clit into his mouth, you stumbled forward, nearly sending him back until he caught you by the waist. You whimper and tug at him to let you go until finally, he pulls away from your cunt, looking far too pleased with shiny lips. He licks them and you fall into his lap, shuddering as you cling to him. 

“That bad, huh? Should I keep my day job?” He teases you gently, one hand cupping the back of your head while the other hugs you tighter. You can still feel his cock straining against his boxers, nearly perfectly aligned as it presses against your ass. 

“S-Shut up, a-asshole,” you stammer out, gripping his shoulders tightly for comfort—or maybe dear life. Jackson chuckles in a way that makes you feel safe and annoyed—because how can he send you to fucking space and then try to convince you it’s all good and dandy with the same mouth?

“You okay baby?” he asks softly. When you nod, he pulls back enough to kiss your temple, though keeps his lips there. You swallow, having a feeling that he wasn’t done with you. Not even close.

“Was it good?” he asks.

“Very c-classy,” you manage to huff, but Jackson only laughs. 

“Mmm. Knew you’d taste good. Knew you’d love me on my knees,” he hums. You shiver, and he moves to your ear, nipping at your lobe. “Knew you’d look so pretty while I eat it.”

You let out a soft whine, your hips rolling into his. You’re spreading your sticky juices along his clothed cock, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he grabs your waist and bites his lower lip. 

“Are you done? Hm? Or can I take you to my room and finish you off?” Jackson asks, tilting his head to kiss below your ear. “Lay you down and hold you open until that pretty clit is nice and swollen…”

“F-Fuck,” you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders. “N-No.”

“M’kay, need me to run you a bath then? I bought some new bath bombs—”

“No I meant…” you breathe, letting your head drop to his shoulder. You were dizzy, but your thoughts had never been more clear. Not necessarily a decision out of desperation, just…it needed to happen. You needed it. 

“I-I don’t want you to eat me out, Jackson,” you say as you swallow. 

You lift your head, relieved to see there’s no frustration in his gaze, no disappointment. God, he’s really just here to make sure you’re happy, safe, comfortable. 

“I want…I want you to fuck me.”

“Why are we in your room?”

“My bed is bigger.”

“When’s the last time you washed your sheets?”

“I don’t know, pie. When’s the last time you washed my sheets?”

You crinkle your nose, but Jackson just rolls his eyes. He drags you onto the bed with him, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it in your face. You sniff, your eyes immediately narrowing. 

“Have you seriously been washing your bedding regularly now under the implication that we’d fuck soon?” you hiss, sitting up to glare at him. He was sprawled out, looking much too happy for your liking.

“Yes,” he says gleefully. You grab the pillow and make an attempt to suffocate him, but he doesn’t fight back, and that’s not very fun. 

Oh yeah! You’re also only wearing his a t-shirt, and he’s only wearing boxers, and his cock is very hard and you’d very much like to put it in your mouth now that you’ve recovered somewhat from his tongue.

“You’re such a boy,” you groan, throwing the pillow back to the headboard. Jackson nods, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

“Yeah. Take this off and sit on my face please,” he hums, lying back as though preparing to be sacrificed to the thigh smothering gods. 

“How romantic,” you scoff. 

“Come sit on my face so I can make you cry the only way a man should make a woman cry, please~”

“Better.”

With the back and forth out of the way, you can’t bring yourself to smile, pulling your knees to your chest. Jackson sits up, reaching out to take one of your hands in his large one. 

“Hey, no expectations, remember? You wanna stop right now, we’ll stop and never do anything like this again. You want me to finish you off, that’s fine too,” he says, thumb brushing the back of your knuckles. You shake your head. 

“No. I think…I think we should. We need to, I mean, otherwise we’re gonna be in limbo forever. But…” you pause, feeling your eyes burn a little damn it. When you look up at him, his boyish charm is gone, replaced completely by a concerned man who almost looks in love with you. 

“Hm? What is it, pie?” he asks, coaxing you gently. Ugh—why did sex have to be so god damn complicated?

“Promise me,” you say, biting your lower lip as you gather your words. “Promise me if we hate it, if it’s bad, just…stay with me? Like, forever? Please don’t move out? I mean if you have to get married just try to find someone who’s nice enough to let me stay? I’ll do the laundry. We can be like a throuple except you both just have to feed me and nothing else.”

“I love you, y/n.”

“Nevermind, let’s just do it.”

Jackson laughed as you flopped onto your back, though he leaned over you and caught your chin in his hand. You avoided looking at him, but he tilted your head down and pressed his forehead to yours to prevent you from escaping his eyes.

“I know you’re allergic to that word—”

“I am not—”

“But I love you. I love y/n and I love pie and I love the girl who thinks ‘coinkydink’ is an appropriate alternative for ‘coincidence’—”

“It is but okay—”

Jackson rolls his eyes, cupping your cheek under the romantic guise of making you shut up by pressing his thumb to your lips. 

“Do you know why I want to fuck you?” he asks, his voice oddly gentle for such an erotic question. You blink, he lifts his thumb. 

“Um, ‘cause I’m hot?” you offer with a shrug. His thumb goes back to your lips. 

“Yes, but the truth? I want to make love to you but I assumed your reaction to that phrasing would be…”

Jackson lifts his thumb. 

“Cringe?” 

“Correct,” he smiles. “I’m gonna do what I can so the next man you meet has to climb to fucking heaven to reach the lowest bar for you. I’m nowhere near perfect, but I’ll be damned if you leave my bed able to call your best friend and complain that your inner thigh got more action than you did.”

You pout and push his hand away. 

“That was one time,” you mumble. “If sex with you sucks, who am I gonna call? Yugyeom?”

“I dare you to fucking try,” Jackson says, narrowing his eyes. You beam, attempting to boop his nose, but he leans forward and kisses you instead. “If you leave this bed and hate me after, I’ll move out before sunset. And if you want me to l-o-v-e you for the rest of your life, I’ll do that too. I told you, pie. I’m yours.”

You kiss him this time, turning into him and cupping his jaw. Why couldn’t he see that the more of this he showed you, the less you wanted to risk it all disappearing? 

You tilt your head to the side, nuzzling your face against his throat to plant kisses there. He inhales, leg sliding between yours as a hand strokes your hair. 

“Mm…what do you want, y/n?” he asks, groaning when you suck beneath his jaw. 

“Wanna suck you off,” you mumble against his skin, relishing in the heavy groan you feel from him. “Then I want you to fuck me.”

“I can do that,” Jackson nods, licking his lips. You release him and sit up, looking over his stretched out form. He was so fucking gorgeous, and you were in his bed.

You place a hand in the center of his chest, and Jackson sits up on his elbows, his thighs parting eagerly. You giggle, gently kneeing his side. 

“Patience,” you hum, dragging your hand down to his abs, letting your fingertips dip between the muscles. You remembered all those times you fantasized about drawing your tongue against them—realizing you can. So you throw a leg over his, sliding down until you’re hovering over his thighs, face level with his hips. 

One hand rests on the elastic of his boxers while the other palms his abs. You look up at him as you drag your finger through the lines, following the shape of his muscles. He’s tense, but still coherent, so your other hand slides down to palm him again. 

Jackson curses under his breath, eyes never leaving yours. So you lean down and flatten your tongue below his navel. He gasps as you lick down the thin trail of hair that disappears beneath his boxers, kissing the sensitive skin there before moving up again. Jackson whines, and you lift a brow. 

“You’re not being very patient,” you say, kissing his stomach before licking up to his chest. Jackson’s head falls back, one hand moving to your hair. 

“It’s been almost a year, pie,” he groans. “Want this…want you…”

You giggle softly. When you palm him again, curling your fingers around his constricted length, Jackson practically flies off the bed, grabbing your wrist. 

“Baby, I will let you suck my cock until the sun explodes, just…please not now, I’m so fucking close, wanna be inside you…” he breathes. You’re surprised to see his chest flushed and heaving, not having realized how worked up he was over just a few light touches. You swallow and nod.

He smiles in relief, pulling you in for a kiss before sitting up on his knees, gently guiding you back. It’s a little jarring, suddenly being underneath your best friend, but Jackson immediately gives you gentle kisses, whispering your name and promises to make you feel good. You believe him. 

You lie there awkwardly as he reaches over you to the bedside table, removing a foil packet. You feel your cheeks redden, which makes him chuckle, and you mumble a quiet shut up. When he holds the condom packet between his teeth and thumbs the waist of his boxers, you realize that you should probably be naked, too. So you cross your arms over the hem of the t-shirt, tugging it over your head and tossing it to the side. 

The condom drops and bounces off your thigh as Jackson’s lips part in shock.

“What?” you mumble shyly, bringing your arms to your chest. He clears his throat and fumbles for the condom, shaking his head. 

“Nothing. You’re gorgeous. Knew you were, just..." he sucks in air through his teeth.

You blush harder, resisting the urge to tell him to hurry. 

Jackson manages to slide his boxers down to his thighs. His cock, once freed, smacks his toned stomach and you grip the covers at your sides as you watch an enticing bead of precum slide down the shaft. It’s exactly as you’d imagined; a little bigger than average, thick, and so beautifully veiny. God it’d feel so good on your tongue, but later. The idea that, hopefully in the future you could suck his beautiful cock whenever you wanted to, made you happier than you’d ever admit to anyone.

You watch as he rolls the condom down his length, swallowing down your doubts as he drops to his forearms on either side of you. 

“You okay?” he asks, no humor, no teasing, just genuine concern. You nod and lick your lips. 

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you say with a shaky breath. Jackson smiles, leaning forward until your noses bump. The action makes you giggle until you realize he’s fitting your mouths together, and suddenly he’s kissing you. 

It’s gentle and soft, his lips sucking at your lower one but moving no further than that. Your arms move to loosely hang around his shoulders, where both of his slip beneath you. You feel the head of his cock brush over your clit and jump. Jackson chuckles. It happens again, but this time, the swollen head catches against the opening between your folds, and you can already feel the stretch, wriggling your hips as if to wedge him in. 

Jackson begins to push. 

The stretch is slow, heavy, delicious, both of you releasing sounds of relief with eyes rolling back into your skulls as though you’ve both spent four years pretending you don’t want this. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, he squeezes you tight beneath him as he sinks deeper and deeper. At last, his hips meet yours, and Jackson Wang, your best friend, is balls deep inside of you. You squeeze your eyes closed, overwhelmed by the sudden and intense sensations and emotions.

“Are you okay? Feels okay, baby?” he asks softly, clearly restraining himself. You nod, licking your lips. 

“Mhm. It’s good. So good,” you babble. Jackson chuckles, nodding as he kisses you again. It’s sweeter this time, moreso as he begins to slide out. The drag of his cock makes you shudder, and you clamp your thighs tight around his waist. 

“That’s it,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Lock me up inside you, baby. So fucking pretty.”

You purr in response, arching your back. Jackson takes this as a go ahead, pushing himself up to his palms as he begins to fuck you properly. 

You feel your mouth open in shock as he thrusts rhythmically, the switch between emptiness and fullness making your head spin. Every time his hips smack the backs of your thighs, another grunt escapes his mouth, and fuck if you couldn’t listen to that sound for the rest of your life. 

Jackson leans down and kisses you. This time, you make sure it’s not as sweet, sucking his tongue and letting him lick yours. You taste his groan as he bucks heavily, pausing to collect himself. Your legs hook around his waist, heel digging into his lower spine, making him moan. 

“F-Fuck baby, gonna make me come already,” he breathes, letting his head hang down. You smile, cupping his face and pulling him into you. 

“So sensitive,” you purr. Jackson huffs.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” he hums, wincing at his own sharp thrust. “Maybe I should pull out and leave that gorgeous head to wonder what it’d be like.”

“You won’t,” you reply, calling his bluff. “If I begged you, I bet you’d go raw.”

Jackson surges forward, hands moving behind your knees as he folds you nearly in half. You choke on air and look up at him, wondering why the fuck you've forced yourself to wait for this.

“You don’t have to beg for shit. Don’t fucking tempt me, y/n.”

Your mouth opens at his tone, but he begins to fuck you harder, gripping your form against him as he gives you everything he has. Your whines turn into muffled cries as he tucks your face into his shoulder. 

“Shh…let’s not let the neighbors know I’m finally inside you baby…that’s it, quietly…take it for me, yeah?” he hums, and you whimper, digging your nails into his skin. Your legs bounce uselessly where he holds them in place, giving him room to be flush against your ass each time he bottoms out. 

“Can’t wait for you to let me lick this sweet little cunt until you cry,” he murmurs, leaning back to slip a hand between you. You jump when he immediately finds your clit, index and middle finger repeatedly alternating pressure. He’s a god damned expert, and you feel yourself clenching tight around the obstruction of his cock. 

“Fuck…is that all it takes? You’re squeezing me like a fucking vice, y/n," Jackson groans. “More, baby. That’s it…fuck. So fucking good.”

“J-Jackson,” you huff, squirming beneath the pressure of his weight. “Nng…f-feels so good…”

“Yeah, princess? Just like you've dreamed about?"

Fuck. He always knew, knew you too well, were you made of glass?

"Y-yeah," you whimper, choosing not to lie. "B-Better."

Jackson kisses you again, his hand slowing its movements to match his hips. 

“Show me,” he says roughly, obviously close himself. “I wanna feel you cum, baby. Want my cock shiny and sticky like my tongue was.”

“Mm..don’t stop, ‘m close,” you breathe. You tuck your hands into his hair, tugging at the strands, knowing what kind of response you’d experience. He groans, as expected, though pulls back and pushes your thighs apart. 

He looks down at your cunt swallowing his cock whole as he rubs at your hooded clit, cursing and biting his lip. Your cheeks flush despite everything, and when his eyes flicker to your face—you’re not sure what to call that expression if not love. 

You want him to cum first. You bring his hand away from your clit and up to your lips, kissing the wet pads of his fingers before slipping them into your mouth. Jackson lets out a high pitched noise that you can’t wait to tease him over later as he watches you suck them. 

He swallows and leans forwards, pulling your fingers away from your mouth to kiss you. You think it’s an accident, the intimacy, but the kiss is soft, so soft that he stops thrusting and you stop trying to make him cum, so soft that you’re suddenly crying and hugging him and apologizing for being a fucking idiot. 

“Hey, ‘s okay baby, I’m here,” he whispers, his own eyes wet. “Stop crying, y/n. I’m right here. I’m yours. I’ll still be yours tomorrow. Shh...”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you breathe, burying your head against his throat despite the fact that his cock is kissing the opening of your cervix currently. “I was scared, Jackson, so fucking scared, I-I think I loved you so much that I scared myself into thinking I couldn’t.”

“Huh?” he asks, knowing damn well what you said according to the stupid grin on his face. You roll your eyes, using the back of your hand to wipe at your tears. 

“I said I love you, asshole,” you whisper, sniffling. “And ‘m not gonna say it again.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, pulling your hands down to wipe your tears himself. “Fine. I’ll just memorize the way you sound when you say it and play it over and over until we live in a nursing home together."

"You roll your eyes, smiling through the teariness. Only you would cry in the middle of sex, but Jackson seemed to love this, taking it as your not-so-silent confession. 

He eventually shifts again, making you shudder despite the fact that he was only getting comfortable. He prepares to ask—you already know—want me to stop? So you shake your head before he gets the words out. 

“I want it, you know, without,” you say instead, shyly looking up at him from your elbows. Jackson looks a little confused, and you sigh, gesturing around as if that’s helpful at all. “You know. Without.”

“I have no idea what you’re saying, pie—”

“I’m saying I want you to fuck me, and then I want you to tell me you love me so I can say it back without dying, and then I want to go to the pharmacy with you and get plan b even though I’m on birth control because we’d make cute babies but I wanna wait like 10 years probably. So, like, without? If you want?”

You finish your monologue, your cheeks burning hot. You flop to your back and cover your face, once again forgetting about the cock buried inside of you. Jackson doesn’t, of course.

“Are you asking me to hit it raw—”

“Must you be so unromantic—”

“Shut up and c’mere,” he mumbles. He leans down, pulling you up enough to kiss you. You feel him shuffling between you, embarrassed by the gasp that slips out when he pulls back. Jackson smirks. There’s a snap of rubber and he winces as he removes the condom, tossing it into his desk trash can. 

“Easy, baby. He’ll be back,” he chuckles. 

“I’m actually going to kill you,” you groan. But then he’s pushing into you again, and fuck if the look on his face doesn’t make you want to buy a first class ticket to hell. 

“Fucking…jesus…baby…” he gasps. You giggle, though he just pushes you back to hide the apparent blush on his cheeks. 

“That bad huh?” you mock him, feeling him bottom out, completely. He curses and dips his head to kiss you, but it’s messy and desperate and feeds the fire that’s been burning inside of you for too long. 

“So fucking…nng…so fucking pretty,” he says with a sharp snap of his hips. You gasp, clinging to his shoulders as he leans down. He kisses you again, hard, palms flattening on the bed on either side of your hips. He uses the leverage to fuck you harder, leaning over you until you’re pinned beneath him. 

“D-Didn’t know it’d turn you into an animal,” you giggle breathlessly, hand fisting his hair. He groans and tilts his head to the side. 

“You turn me into a fucking animal, baby,” Jackson grunts. “Makes me…makes me want to do stupid things, like fuck you without a condom and cum so deep the pill doesn’t do shit to stop it—”

“Jackson—”

“You said it first. Still gonna make you swallow the pill with my cum dripping down your thighs.”

You squeak and tug him down for a filthy kiss, tongues barely missing the mark as his thrusts become loose and sloppy. He’s fucking himself dumb, gripping the sheets and whining against your mouth like a dog. 

“G-Gotta make you cum. Gotta make it good for you,” he breathes, reaching between you. You pull his hand away, shaking your head. He begins to argue but you squeeze your thighs around his waist, making him shudder and stumble. He falls against you, cursing into your hair as he continues his thrusts. 

“Want you to cum first,” you whisper, hugging him tight. “Want you to fill me up like you said, so fucking deep—"

He groans, leaning on you and thrusting heavy as he snaps his hips forward. His speed remains the same, but you can hear the sound of his hips meeting your ass like he's trying to bury himself in you indefinitely.

"T-That's...fuck..." you whimper, nodding. "Good, that's good."

“Ah…ah…” Jackson whines, shaking his head. “F-Fuck, baby…gonna cum, is that…is that okay? Fucking…ah…c-can I cum?”

Oh. Oh.

You were going to explore this later, him asking permission to cum. But not now. 

“Please, Jax. Please cum for me, in me?” you beg softly. “Promise, I’ll take it so good."

“Fuck, I know you will, princess. Know you’ll take it all so good for me…so perfect, so fucking beautiful…all mine, baby…”

Jackson clings to you so tight you have trouble breathing, but you feel him shudder, hear him gasp, and you squeeze him back just as much. He releases a sob into your hair, his muscles tensing as he cums hard. You feel his cock pulsing, the warmth spreading inside of you, and realize with a start that you’re feeling his actual cum seeping into your womb. 

You rub his back for a few minutes while he recovers, until he finally sits up and hisses at the sensitivity of his softening cock still buried in you. When he tugs away, it’s your turn to gasp, shivering at the cool emptiness you feel. 

“Was that okay?” he asks quietly, hands pushing your thighs apart. You nod. 

“Yeah, ‘s good. What are you—shit.”

Jackson knelt between your legs, lips first kissing your clit before he sucks it into his mouth. You all but scream, trying to clamp your legs together, but his easy strength prevents that. 

“F…Jackson...fuck, w-what are you doing?” you whimper again, trying to push yourself up to look at him. He uses a hand on the soft of your belly, pushing you back down. He pops off of your clit, free hand taking over the strokes. 

“My babygirl didn’t cum. I’m gonna make sure she does,” he explains as though it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

“B-But you…your cum…”

“Mhm, keep reminding me,” he moans, tongue slipping beneath the hood of your clit while two long fingers prod at your sore hole. You wince, but he slowly eases them in, his own cum working as lube. Rather than move them, he holds them there, gently stroking inside of your walls while he laps freely between your labia. 

In a frighteningly short amount of time, you’re coming off the bed (literally) with a cry of surprise, mumbling his name over and over again as though he could save you from the crushing pleasure you felt. Your thighs clamped around his head, though he made no move to escape, apparently right where he wanted to be as it allowed him to continue sucking and licking the sensitive bundle of nerves until your legs trembled violently. 

It stole your breath, and you saw stars, mixed in a few moments later with a boyish grin and someone peppering your face with kisses. It was the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, definitely if you were comparing him to other men. Well. There was no comparison. 

You could only imagine how it'd feel with his cock as deep as it was. Next time. You'd suck his cock, cum on it...maybe make him beg to do the same.

Jackson is patient enough to wait until you’ve mostly returned to your body before he smugly proclaims that he was right, the sex was great, and you owe him a backrub (don’t you usually have to make bets to win them in the first place?) but whatever, because you were fucked out and your boy was happy and probably planning your wedding. 

But once you attempted to sit up, wincing at the soreness of keeping your legs open, Jackson kissed you sweetly and urged you to lie down again. He left for a few minutes, returning with boxers (darn it) and a bottle of water, which he forced you to sip whilst he ran you a bath. 

You were helped down the hall, feeling like a frail old lady after you insisted you could do it—and had to catch yourself by the doorframe as you walked like a baby deer. You informed him it wasn’t polite to laugh at people you’ve nearly fucked to death, regretting your words immediately as a somehow cocky Jackson became even cockier. 

He guided you into the bath, telling you to relax while he ran to the pharmacy. Before he left though, he knelt beside the tub, fingers tapping at the lava-like water you were soaking in.

“Do you like the smell?” he asks, resting his chin on his fist. You nod, letting your fingers find his and trying to pull them beneath the water. He compromised by pulling yours out, kissing the back of your knuckles. “Good. It’s strawberry scented.”

“Fucking me doesn’t make my bath bombs free real estate,” you say pointedly.

“Fucking me doesn’t make my clothes free real estate.”

You open your mouth, then purse your lips. 

“Touche.”

“I have something to ask,” he sighs, resting his lips on your hand. “It’s really important.”

Oh god. What. 

“Yeah?” you ask, your voice shaky. Jackson grins. 

“Just…did you like my cream, pie?”

You stare at him for a few seconds, contemplating the last hour and four years of your life. “I want a divorce.”

“I love you.”

“How…how long have you thought of that joke?” you ask. You didn’t really want to know the answer.

“Um…about 20 seconds after I called you pie for the first time? Not with you of course.”

“Well why in the god damn hell not with me!?”

“I mean? Yes with you?”

“Creep.”

“I love you.”

“I still want a divorce.”

“I still love you.”

“Nng.”

“That means I love you in worm?”

“...Yeah.”

“Heh~”

“Hey Jackson?”

“Mm?”

“Your lil sperms might be kinda fast? So like? Maybe leave now? I do love you but I will not have your babies right now?”

“Oh. Yeah. Be right back. Try not to make a baby with those in the meantime, they’re not ripe yet, you know?”

"...Hurry."