samluvikue

[samluvikue]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony. vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, doggystle, sideways, front wards, backwards, upside down, 360 degrees. skin on skin, on the living room, in the bedroom, in the fridge, in the closet, on the ceiling, on the walls, on the bathroom, on the the couch, in the car and on the street

[samluvikue]

AND FUCKKKKK WHOEVER'S BOUNCING ON IT

[samluvikue]

I really woke up in shock, thanks for writing it🩷🩷🩷🩷 I didn’t expect anyone to write it, and I really enjoyed reading it ( I WANT HIM) ,SLAY QUEEN 🫦

babygirl- sim jaeyun

genre: smut, based on the desire : unleash make ver and this idea by @samluvikue

pairing: posessive bf!jake × fem!reader

taglist: @urlocalmultigroupfan @minkilicious @vrusha01 @shyoko @emisluvr (open taglist)

word count: 1.9k

now playing: into it- chase atlantic

a.n- ty bbg for this idea teehee | also for my bbg @keehoes bc she wanted a jake fic 🤭🤭🤭

tw: hard dom!jake, profanity, light fingering, unprotected sex, bondage, daddy kink, doggy style, degradation, light spanking, hair pulling, dacraphylia, creampie, dubcon.... might be it idk

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ﾟ.ੈ✩‧₊

jake was pissed.

at you, to be clear.

how could he not be? you were giggling at the bar with some friend from college, and her boyfriend that you had noticed halfway through the party.

her boyfriend who wouldn't stop looking at you.

jake was trying to focus on the conversation, an important one that could boost his career, but he couldn't stop looking at you, your fucking smile, looking like you had just heard the funniest joke in the world.

that was his smile. his laugh. his girl.

he was ready to punch the shit out of this guy. he was staring at you like his fucking girlfriend wasn't standing right next to him.

jackass.

"i'm sorry mr. hwang," he says, nodding to the man in front of him. "now isn't really the best time to discuss work. perhaps i could meet you for lunch sometime to discuss it more thoroughly?"

"of course. i'll give you a call. this is a golden opportunity for you mr. sim."

"i understand, thank you sir." jake bows out of the conversation and places his champagne glass on a platter held by a waiter. he saunters over to where you were standing, coming up behind you and placing his hand at the base of your spine.

"hey baby," he says, plastering a smile onto his face.

a fake one.

"who's this?" jake asks, gesturing to your friend, not bothering to include her boyfriend.

"it's mai, baby. she and i went to college together before i transferred."

"oh, that's a coincidence!" says jake, smiling at mai.

she nods and pats her boyfriend's shoulder. "this is liam."

liam sticks his hand out to shake jake's, smiling at him.

jake doesn't take it.

"very nice. look, y/n," he turns to you, whispering in your ear. "it's time to go now."

"but-"

"now."

you glance at mai and give her an apologetic smile. liam's smirk fades faster than he swooped in on you.

jake guides you out of the room and outside to his parked car, keeping his hand on your back the entire way.

"jake, what's going on?" you ask, nervously glancing at his cold expression as he slid into the car.

he doesn't say anything. just clenches his jaw and starts the engine.

you tap your fingers on your thighs and bounce your leg, a nervous habit.

jake knew. he let one hand drop from the wheel and latch onto your leg, holding it down. his fingers dug into your skin, his thumb pressing hard against your outer thigh while his others squeezed between your legs.

you let a soft gasp slip out, and it takes all of jake's willpower not to smirk. not to fold.

because he wasn't going to let you win.

"ikeu... what's happening? did i do something wrong?" you bat your eyelashes innocently at him. you didn't know what you had done to make him so... mad, but you did know how to tease.

"you want to know? get inside." he says, pulling into the driveway and climbing out of the car.

you slowly follow him into the house, making a point of not keeping up with his brisk pace.

"you can go faster." he hisses, glaring at you. "hurry the fuck up."

you speed up ever so slightly.

"oh don't fucking start," he groans, grabbing you by the arm and practically dragging you through the front door. his grip is harsh, exactly what you wanted.

he pulls you to the bedroom, and pushes you onto the bed. you watch him open and rifle through his nightstand, pulling a rope out.

your heart stops.

not because bondage was new, god knows it wasn't with how possessive jake got, but ropes weren't ever part of the picture.

just handcuffs... maybe a blindfold.

not this.

"jake, please don't" you say, scared and yet still dripping for him. both of you know that you dont mean it. you want this. the evidence was pooling in your panties from the start.

"it's time to tie you up babygirl." jake smirks, twisting the rope in his hands. "just be calm and listen to daddy."

you feel his fingers from behind you as he kneels on the bed, pulling the straps of your dress down and revealing your bare breasts. they lightly graze over your nipples, and you twitch at the sensation.

"you like that?" he asks, pulling your dress further down your chest.

"yes, daddy" you whimper, shivering at the cold air on your skin. his hands sink lower, slipping the dress off your legs and leaving you in only your panties.

exposed.

his.

"you wanna keep going around lookin' like that and making other guys fucking drool over you?" he questions, tying your arms back and wrapping the rope around your waist.

you couldn't move now.

you didn't want to.

he grabs your hand and presses it against his cock, your wrist contorting in the bonds to feel how hard he already was.

"feel that? feel how much im gon' pump into you? how much im gonna make you mine?"

you whine and give him a small squeeze, feeling his bulge press against your timid fingers.

he climbs off the bed to stand in front of you, holding the end of the rope near your face. "gon' put this in your mouth baby, need you quiet while i fuck some sense into you."

you nod, heart racing and legs shaking. "please daddy."

"stay quiet f'me babygirl." he says before gagging you with the rope.

you sputter around the rough material, and jake hovers over you. you feel so vulnerable in front of him. he's still fully clothed in front of you, his white shirt unbuttoned a little and his pants straining from his cock.

he kneels down, hands dragging up your thighs and pulling down your panties.

"fucking soaked.... this turning you on baby? being tied up like a fucking animal?"

your nod is frantic, a desperate sound coming from your throat. jake smirks and lets his fingers trace over your clit, a knowing look in his eyes as he smirks up at you.

and then his fingers dip lower.

and lower.

until he's spreading your folds with his middle and ring finger, his free hand attached to your thigh like it was glued there.

you twitch against the ropes, jake's hands like ice on your skin that felt like fire while he collected your slick on his fingers.

"little slut... so fucking wet for daddy, huh? nice 'n ready for me to fuck every little whine and moan out of you yeah? jesus christ, you want it so bad, don't you?"

you whimper into the rope in your mouth, thighs twitching while jake stands back up and slowly traces his fingers across the scratchy cord wrapped around your breasts.

"gon' pound you so fucking hard... you're gonna be screaming through those ropes before i'm anywhere close to done... god, you look so damn hot like this, babygirl." he groans, reaching for the cuffs of his shirt and slowly rolling each sleeve up to his elbow, exposing his veiny and muscled arms.

you were already drooling against the rope shoved between your teeth, but good lord that probably made your mouth even more wet.

his eyes are heavy, half lidded and dark with the desire of everything he wanted to do to you. of every sound he wanted to force you to suppress. of every twitch and shift he wanted to feel. wanted you to feel.

"get back... c'mon, turn around for me babygirl... wanna see that nice fuckin' ass." he groans, twisting you around by your hips and shoving your face into the pillow. he kneels behind you on the bed, rubbing his erection onto your exposed and sopping pussy.

"you like that?" he chuckles when your fingers fidget against the rope, your wrists pulling against the knots. "you gonna let me ruin you? fuck you so hard you can't even remember your name? make you go dumb on my cock and show you who you belong to?"

you can't help it when you scoot backwards to grind against him.

jake slaps your ass and laughs when you whimper into the gag. "no, you're gonna stay put babygirl. you don't get to move, to tease. you get to take it like the little whore you are."

you can hear the zipper of his pants being pulled down, can feel the fabric brush against the backs of your thighs and his dick fall out and slap your cunt.

tears are starting to slip out of your eyes now, the ache between your legs too much as jake teases your clit with his tip.

and then he pushes in.

all at once.

your scream is muffled against the rope and the pillow, but he still smacks your already marked ass for it.

"shut the fuck up." he practically growls, already setting a pace that your poor cunt was struggling to keep up with.

he grabs the rope on your wrists, using it as leverage while his other hand grips your hair and pulls hard. you cry even more, your chest heaving with sobs as jake pounds into you like he's trying to wipe your memory of everything other than his name from the inside out.

and he is.

he watches while his pants, still pooled at the middle of his thighs, collect your slick as he rams his hips into you. the liquid stains the hem of his dress shirt too, and he doesn't make a move to fix either.

he just fucks you until you're at the edge.

then stops.

you gasp into the rope, shaking at the loss of his wonderful cock and begging for more without words. the way your cunt clenched around nothing was enough.

"look at you, all ruined f'me, huh?" jake removes his hand from your hair and pulls the rope out of your mouth. "what's my name, babygirl?"

you choke on your words, throat sore, lips dry and cracked. "j-jake..." you whisper, watching his smirk turn to a frown out of the corner of your eye.

"wrong." he says, grabbing the back of your neck and shoving your face back into the pillow. he doesn't bother to gag you again, just pushes his cock back in and starts fucking you faster.

"you're gon' get it right before i let you cum, okay babygirl? gonna be a smart little slut, huh?" he moans, pushing you deeper into the pillow and barely leaving enough room for you to nod.

"good girl... my girl."

his dick hits so deep inside you, you think you might pass out with how good it felt. you could feel his shirt sticking to your skin with every thrust, your slick coating all the way from the tails to the first button.

you were a mess.

all for jake.

he felt your cunt clenching harder, your walls pulling him in and practically pushing him out at the same time.

"c'mon baby. you wan' cum? yeah?" you moan into the pillow, squeezing his cock impossibly harder. "what's my name?"

"shit.... daddy! please!"

he can't stop himself from filling your cunt with his seed, a loud groan ripped from his throat as he tells you "fuck- good job babygirl, cum on my cock, make a mess on me like the good girl you are."

he doesn't have to tell you twice.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ﾟ.ੈ✩‧₊

masterlist you may also like: mirror image- y.jw

[samluvikue]

Mmmm good morning wth ( AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

babygirl- sim jaeyun

genre: smut, based on the desire : unleash make ver and this idea by @samluvikue

pairing: posessive bf!jake × fem!reader

taglist: @urlocalmultigroupfan @minkilicious @vrusha01 @shyoko @emisluvr (open taglist)

word count: 1.9k

now playing: into it- chase atlantic

a.n- ty bbg for this idea teehee | also for my bbg @keehoes bc she wanted a jake fic 🤭🤭🤭

tw: hard dom!jake, profanity, light fingering, unprotected sex, bondage, daddy kink, doggy style, degradation, light spanking, hair pulling, dacraphylia, creampie, dubcon.... might be it idk

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ﾟ.ੈ✩‧₊

jake was pissed.

at you, to be clear.

how could he not be? you were giggling at the bar with some friend from college, and her boyfriend that you had noticed halfway through the party.

her boyfriend who wouldn't stop looking at you.

jake was trying to focus on the conversation, an important one that could boost his career, but he couldn't stop looking at you, your fucking smile, looking like you had just heard the funniest joke in the world.

that was his smile. his laugh. his girl.

he was ready to punch the shit out of this guy. he was staring at you like his fucking girlfriend wasn't standing right next to him.

jackass.

"i'm sorry mr. hwang," he says, nodding to the man in front of him. "now isn't really the best time to discuss work. perhaps i could meet you for lunch sometime to discuss it more thoroughly?"

"of course. i'll give you a call. this is a golden opportunity for you mr. sim."

"i understand, thank you sir." jake bows out of the conversation and places his champagne glass on a platter held by a waiter. he saunters over to where you were standing, coming up behind you and placing his hand at the base of your spine.

"hey baby," he says, plastering a smile onto his face.

a fake one.

"who's this?" jake asks, gesturing to your friend, not bothering to include her boyfriend.

"it's mai, baby. she and i went to college together before i transferred."

"oh, that's a coincidence!" says jake, smiling at mai.

she nods and pats her boyfriend's shoulder. "this is liam."

liam sticks his hand out to shake jake's, smiling at him.

jake doesn't take it.

"very nice. look, y/n," he turns to you, whispering in your ear. "it's time to go now."

"but-"

"now."

you glance at mai and give her an apologetic smile. liam's smirk fades faster than he swooped in on you.

jake guides you out of the room and outside to his parked car, keeping his hand on your back the entire way.

"jake, what's going on?" you ask, nervously glancing at his cold expression as he slid into the car.

he doesn't say anything. just clenches his jaw and starts the engine.

you tap your fingers on your thighs and bounce your leg, a nervous habit.

jake knew. he let one hand drop from the wheel and latch onto your leg, holding it down. his fingers dug into your skin, his thumb pressing hard against your outer thigh while his others squeezed between your legs.

you let a soft gasp slip out, and it takes all of jake's willpower not to smirk. not to fold.

because he wasn't going to let you win.

"ikeu... what's happening? did i do something wrong?" you bat your eyelashes innocently at him. you didn't know what you had done to make him so... mad, but you did know how to tease.

"you want to know? get inside." he says, pulling into the driveway and climbing out of the car.

you slowly follow him into the house, making a point of not keeping up with his brisk pace.

"you can go faster." he hisses, glaring at you. "hurry the fuck up."

you speed up ever so slightly.

"oh don't fucking start," he groans, grabbing you by the arm and practically dragging you through the front door. his grip is harsh, exactly what you wanted.

he pulls you to the bedroom, and pushes you onto the bed. you watch him open and rifle through his nightstand, pulling a rope out.

your heart stops.

not because bondage was new, god knows it wasn't with how possessive jake got, but ropes weren't ever part of the picture.

just handcuffs... maybe a blindfold.

not this.

"jake, please don't" you say, scared and yet still dripping for him. both of you know that you dont mean it. you want this. the evidence was pooling in your panties from the start.

"it's time to tie you up babygirl." jake smirks, twisting the rope in his hands. "just be calm and listen to daddy."

you feel his fingers from behind you as he kneels on the bed, pulling the straps of your dress down and revealing your bare breasts. they lightly graze over your nipples, and you twitch at the sensation.

"you like that?" he asks, pulling your dress further down your chest.

"yes, daddy" you whimper, shivering at the cold air on your skin. his hands sink lower, slipping the dress off your legs and leaving you in only your panties.

exposed.

his.

"you wanna keep going around lookin' like that and making other guys fucking drool over you?" he questions, tying your arms back and wrapping the rope around your waist.

you couldn't move now.

you didn't want to.

he grabs your hand and presses it against his cock, your wrist contorting in the bonds to feel how hard he already was.

"feel that? feel how much im gon' pump into you? how much im gonna make you mine?"

you whine and give him a small squeeze, feeling his bulge press against your timid fingers.

he climbs off the bed to stand in front of you, holding the end of the rope near your face. "gon' put this in your mouth baby, need you quiet while i fuck some sense into you."

you nod, heart racing and legs shaking. "please daddy."

"stay quiet f'me babygirl." he says before gagging you with the rope.

you sputter around the rough material, and jake hovers over you. you feel so vulnerable in front of him. he's still fully clothed in front of you, his white shirt unbuttoned a little and his pants straining from his cock.

he kneels down, hands dragging up your thighs and pulling down your panties.

"fucking soaked.... this turning you on baby? being tied up like a fucking animal?"

your nod is frantic, a desperate sound coming from your throat. jake smirks and lets his fingers trace over your clit, a knowing look in his eyes as he smirks up at you.

and then his fingers dip lower.

and lower.

until he's spreading your folds with his middle and ring finger, his free hand attached to your thigh like it was glued there.

you twitch against the ropes, jake's hands like ice on your skin that felt like fire while he collected your slick on his fingers.

"little slut... so fucking wet for daddy, huh? nice 'n ready for me to fuck every little whine and moan out of you yeah? jesus christ, you want it so bad, don't you?"

you whimper into the rope in your mouth, thighs twitching while jake stands back up and slowly traces his fingers across the scratchy cord wrapped around your breasts.

"gon' pound you so fucking hard... you're gonna be screaming through those ropes before i'm anywhere close to done... god, you look so damn hot like this, babygirl." he groans, reaching for the cuffs of his shirt and slowly rolling each sleeve up to his elbow, exposing his veiny and muscled arms.

you were already drooling against the rope shoved between your teeth, but good lord that probably made your mouth even more wet.

his eyes are heavy, half lidded and dark with the desire of everything he wanted to do to you. of every sound he wanted to force you to suppress. of every twitch and shift he wanted to feel. wanted you to feel.

"get back... c'mon, turn around for me babygirl... wanna see that nice fuckin' ass." he groans, twisting you around by your hips and shoving your face into the pillow. he kneels behind you on the bed, rubbing his erection onto your exposed and sopping pussy.

"you like that?" he chuckles when your fingers fidget against the rope, your wrists pulling against the knots. "you gonna let me ruin you? fuck you so hard you can't even remember your name? make you go dumb on my cock and show you who you belong to?"

you can't help it when you scoot backwards to grind against him.

jake slaps your ass and laughs when you whimper into the gag. "no, you're gonna stay put babygirl. you don't get to move, to tease. you get to take it like the little whore you are."

you can hear the zipper of his pants being pulled down, can feel the fabric brush against the backs of your thighs and his dick fall out and slap your cunt.

tears are starting to slip out of your eyes now, the ache between your legs too much as jake teases your clit with his tip.

and then he pushes in.

all at once.

your scream is muffled against the rope and the pillow, but he still smacks your already marked ass for it.

"shut the fuck up." he practically growls, already setting a pace that your poor cunt was struggling to keep up with.

he grabs the rope on your wrists, using it as leverage while his other hand grips your hair and pulls hard. you cry even more, your chest heaving with sobs as jake pounds into you like he's trying to wipe your memory of everything other than his name from the inside out.

and he is.

he watches while his pants, still pooled at the middle of his thighs, collect your slick as he rams his hips into you. the liquid stains the hem of his dress shirt too, and he doesn't make a move to fix either.

he just fucks you until you're at the edge.

then stops.

you gasp into the rope, shaking at the loss of his wonderful cock and begging for more without words. the way your cunt clenched around nothing was enough.

"look at you, all ruined f'me, huh?" jake removes his hand from your hair and pulls the rope out of your mouth. "what's my name, babygirl?"

you choke on your words, throat sore, lips dry and cracked. "j-jake..." you whisper, watching his smirk turn to a frown out of the corner of your eye.

"wrong." he says, grabbing the back of your neck and shoving your face back into the pillow. he doesn't bother to gag you again, just pushes his cock back in and starts fucking you faster.

"you're gon' get it right before i let you cum, okay babygirl? gonna be a smart little slut, huh?" he moans, pushing you deeper into the pillow and barely leaving enough room for you to nod.

"good girl... my girl."

his dick hits so deep inside you, you think you might pass out with how good it felt. you could feel his shirt sticking to your skin with every thrust, your slick coating all the way from the tails to the first button.

you were a mess.

all for jake.

he felt your cunt clenching harder, your walls pulling him in and practically pushing him out at the same time.

"c'mon baby. you wan' cum? yeah?" you moan into the pillow, squeezing his cock impossibly harder. "what's my name?"

"shit.... daddy! please!"

he can't stop himself from filling your cunt with his seed, a loud groan ripped from his throat as he tells you "fuck- good job babygirl, cum on my cock, make a mess on me like the good girl you are."

he doesn't have to tell you twice.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ﾟ.ੈ✩‧₊

masterlist you may also like: mirror image- y.jw

[samluvikue]

Not just his fingers, I want his whole hand.

[samluvikue]

It's so good, I'm crying (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠)

him, revisited (how much i believed in the future) // jake

You didn’t realise your ex-boyfriend Jake Sim was still your emergency contact. Or that he’d show up when you needed him.

at a glance: exes to lovers, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, gender neutral reader, jake best boy

words: 2.6k

warnings: hospital setting, y/n has an unspecified medical condition, mentions of iv drips and blood (very mild), swearing

@k-films

——————————

The light above you is too white, too sharp, a blinding fluorescent harshness that forces your eyelids shut the second you open them. A steady beep in the background. The sharp smell of antiseptic. A sting in the back of your hand.

You open your eyes again, slower this time, and feel around you. Your palm glides across the thin, crinkly surface of a hospital bed, only to be pulled back by something attached to your hand. An IV drip, tangled in a mass of wires and cords you can just barely make out through your blurred vision.

“You’re awake.”

Even from deep within your haze, you recognise his voice immediately.

“Jake?”

Out of focus, a figure makes its way to the side of your bed.

“Hey,” he says softly, as if afraid his breath will knock you over. “How do you feel?”

You push yourself up on shaky elbows and a bolt of pain instantly shoots up your spine, sending you falling back down onto the bed.

Jake catches you, his hands on your back to cushion your fall. “Careful.”

In his strong grip, your weak form seems to turn to clay. He gently sits you upright and inclines your bed with the crank of a handle and props your pillows up for you to lean against.

It takes a few seconds for your vision to stop spinning, for the pain in your head to ease slightly, before your eyes focus enough for you to actually see him.

“Jake? Why are you… what’s going on?”

He looks the same as when you last saw him — six months ago, in his kitchen, breaking up with you. When he told you he couldn’t be what you needed, couldn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved. Even though he was the only man you’ve ever wanted to follow to the end of the world, to the peak of a mountain, anywhere he wished.

“I don’t know. They called me,” Jake says, adjusting one of your pillows. “I came as fast as I could.”

A throbbing ache sits just behind your eye sockets, making it supremely difficult to register anything he says. And the constant beeping of your heart monitor only makes it worse. You glance around the room, at him, at the chair beside your bed with his black bomber jacket thrown over the back of it. The one he used to wrap around your shoulders on cold nights.

How long has he been waiting for you to wake up?

“They called you?” you ask, your mind still lagging about ten steps behind his.

Jake breathes in slowly, like he doesn’t want to give you an answer, and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I was your emergency contact,” he says. “Or I still am, to be exact.”

“…Oh, I’m sorry. That’s embarrassing,” you mumble. Another lash of pain radiates up the back of your neck, a tongue of fire searing your vertebrae.

Six months. Six whole months have gone by, and you haven’t changed your emergency contact.

Noticing you wince from craning your neck to look up at him, Jake pulls the chair closer and sits down right beside your bed, fingers curling around the metal bed rail.

“No, it’s not,” he says. Kind, quiet.

It’s a strange feeling, seeing him again after half a year — this person who’d been the centre of your world for so long before vanishing into the ether all at once — and learning you still remember every contour of his face. The angles of his brows, his nose, his chin, the warm brown hue of his eyes that crackle like firewood, the delicate slant of the corners of his lips.

“You could’ve just called Siah,” you say, face flushed, “but thank you for coming.”

Jake smiles. “Of course. It’s good to see you.”

You pull at your scratchy hospital gown and attempt in vain to tidy your hair, wondering which mythical forest gremlin you look like the most. “It’s good to see you, too.”

You probably weren’t ready back then for that serious a relationship, too eager to throw yourself head first into the lake that was Jake Sim. And neither was he. He seemed almost frustratingly well-adjusted compared to you, maybe everyone did — but you needed him and he needed to feel needed. You like to think you’re more sensible now. More self-sufficient. Less difficult to love.

“So…” Jake begins, scratching the back of his neck, “are you okay?”

The IV in your hand shifts, stings, makes you flinch. Beneath the clear adhesive dressing holding it in place, your skin prickles. You lift your hand and squint to see swelling around the site and a small amount of blood flowing back up into the line.

“I think so. I don’t remember what happened,” you admit, scratching around the edges of the dressing. “This thing is so fucking itchy.”

Jake pushes your other hand away and presses the call button by your bed. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s okay. I’m fine,” you insist, but your voice is weak. “I just…”

His hand circles gently around your left wrist, holding you still, his eyes locked on yours. His touch is grounding, soothing, in a way only he can manage.

“Let me help you,” he whispers, and it sounds more like a plea than an offer.

Your love for him has faded somewhat. It’s become a sort of dull ache that sweeps across your heart whenever you think of him, which is often, and whenever you miss him, which is always. But the ache is bearable. You’re used to it, the scars of first love.

Except maybe it isn’t bearable, because as you watch him examining your IV site, eyes brimming with worry, gentle fingertips brushing across the back of your hand, the ache returns — stronger than you remembered.

“It’s swollen. And a little red,” he says, calm. Forever the steady anchor to your chaotic ship. “Do you think it’s the same thing that happened last summer? When you fainted and got all that bloodwork done, and that heart tracing.”

“…You remembered,” you breathe. He’s still holding your hand.

“Of course I remembered.”

It’s such a soft phrase that you almost can’t tolerate it. What are you meant to do with it, with the knowledge that someone has carved out a space in their heart just to hold on to the things you’d said and done and gone through?

That summer, Jake spent many a date carrying you home on his back when you were too weak to walk, staying awake with you when you were curled up in bed with excruciating migraines and stroking your hair, singing quietly to you when waves of nausea struck you down and incapacitated you.

If you were Jake, you might have broken up with yourself much earlier. Not because you were sick, but because you were a mess — neglecting your health and throwing yourself head first into your work to (pathetically try to) convince everyone you were fine. Insecure and utterly incapable of believing him when he told you he loved you.

Jake brushes his thumb over your knuckles, a sickeningly familiar action that makes you look up at him in a flash. There had to be a last time he did that, just like there was a last time he held you in his arms and a last time he tied your shoelaces. Before you became strangers, strangers who knew everything about each other. He always brushed his thumb over your knuckles when he had your hand in his, to soothe you when you were nervous or remind you he was right by your side.

Catching you staring, he bites his lip and lets go of your hand as a nurse walks through the door.

“Hello, dear, you’re awake,” she greets with a smile. She’s neither old nor young, perhaps slightly older than your parents, with kind eyes and a soft voice.

“Hi,” you say, your mouth dry.

“I think there’s something wrong with their IV,” Jake says. Protective, worried, because he knows you won’t say it yourself. The thought almost makes you want to pull away from how sweet it is.

The nurse looks at your hand. “It’s just a little bit of inflammation in your vein and some backflow,” she tells you, clearly unconcerned. “I’ll flush the line for you now. You’re booked in for a CT scan, so I’ll hook you back up after.”

She detaches the IV port from the line and pushes a syringe of isotonic saline into your vein, the pressure of the cold fluid under your skin making you wince. Jake takes your hand in his again, runs the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. It doesn’t make it hurt any less, but it comforts you anyway. You remember this feeling; your skin does, a return to form of sorts.

“How long have you been married?” the nurse asks casually, a clear attempt to distract you from the pain.

“Oh, we’re not-”

“I’m their boyfriend,” Jake answers with a sweet smile, cutting you off. He squeezes your hand gently, like it’s easy. Like he does this all the time. Like your hand belongs in his. It had, once.

And with three words he brings it all rushing back. Boyfriend. A title he held with great pride — until he didn’t.

“Don’t ever let this sweetheart go, dear. You should’ve seen him when he came. I’ve never met someone more worried,” the nurse says.

She doesn’t notice the confused glance you cast in Jake’s direction, or the way he looks back at you with nothing but cautious lovelights in his eyes.

“I’ll come back in a minute to take you up to CT.” The nurse begins to leave, turning back only briefly to tell Jake, “You can wait here.”

Jake nods. “Sure, thanks.”

As the door to your room slides shut, slow enough to be just slightly awkward, you prod at the back of your hand.

“Jake…” you trail off, his name leaving your lips before you even know what you want to say next. “You don’t have to stay.”

“But I want to.”

It’s a simple statement, one you instinctively feel compelled to assume is a lie — even though it almost certainly isn’t. He still has those big brown doe eyes, blinking at you from beside your bed. And they still work on you.

Jake, who dropped everything to race to the hospital when they called. Jake, who knew you needed him to be there for you because you wouldn’t let anyone else be. Jake, who reaches over the side rail of your bed to work out the knots in your hair.

Loving, reassuring, dependable Jake. The perfect complement to your neuroses, your high-strung nature, your impatience.

The room is quiet now — the nurse gone, the door closed, your IV line disconnected and no longer beeping every ten seconds. You shift around in the bed, trying to sit up straighter, look more presentable. For him.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Jake asks. A question braced with uncertainty, hope, even.

Your heart races, which is embarrassingly displayed right onto the giant heart monitor screen right beside you.

Which one of these stupid sticker things is doing that? Maybe the- it probably isn’t wise to start pulling random wires and electrodes off your skin and/or out of your body, so you stop.

“No,” you reply, embarrassed, knowing he’s far too polite to point out the spike in your heart rate. But he surely notices it. “Are you?”

“No,” he answers, instantly. He pauses. Waits. Pushes his fingers through his shiny, magazine-ready hair. When your eyes meet his, he looks away. “I- uh- haven’t gotten over you, I guess.”

“You broke up with me,” you say, the pointed reminder flowing out of you before you even have a chance to process what he’s revealed.

That’s the reason Jake has always been too good for you. You’re petty, you hold grudges, you assume the worst of people. He forgives and forgives and forgives.

Jake coughs, touches his hair again; it’s a habit of his. “Yeah, I know. It’s the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

His voice is gentle and quiet, one of those voices without a single sharp edge, sounding like warm honey even on the exceedingly rare occasions he raises it. But it’s even softer and quieter now, almost confessorial in its vulnerability. It disarms you, completely.

Once it becomes clear your silence has dragged on for far too long, reducing the poor Jake to staring straight down at the floor like his shoes have just transformed into the most interesting things in the world, you tap the back of his hand.

“Can you come here?” you ask, gesturing vaguely to the foot of your bed, trying to ignore the fluttering in your heart when he looks at you. “My neck hurts turning to see you.”

An invitation. Your way of telling him it’s okay. That you’re reaching for him, too, in your own guarded manner.

Jake smiles, only slightly — but it’s so often the nuance that matters with him — and sits down at the end of your bed. He folds one leg under him, shifting as best he can to face you. His lip is red from biting it.

“So, yeah. The door’s still open, if you feel the same way. You-” he hesitates, adjusting your sheets to occupy his restless hands, “You haven’t let my mind since we broke up. Since we met, actually.”

His gaze is trained on you, oddly intimate. You sit up straighter in your hospital bed, eyes glinting. “Neither have you.”

“You don’t have to answer me right away,” he adds, carefully laying his hand on the expanse of your bed between you and him. If you want to hold it, you can, he seems to imply. He smiles again. “I know you have bigger things to worry about. Your health. How itchy your hand is.”

“It’s quite pressing, that itchiness,” you say, trying to sound funny, not painfully earnest. “Once I get out of here…”

And when I look less ugly, you think. Dressed in your Sunday best, not in a hospital gown. With colour returned to your lifeless lips and cheeks. Sallowness gone from the dark crescents under your eyes.

“I’ll take you out,” Jake finishes. It’s effortless, the way you fall back in sync. “It’ll be our second first date.”

He took you ice-skating on your actual first date. He brought an extra pair of gloves for you to protect your fingers from the cold, an extra pair of thick socks to protect your feet from blistering in your rented skates. You laughed at him every time he fell, gave him a kiss on the cheek when he pouted. Kissed him for real when he walked you home.

“I’d like that,” you say, giddy as a fool.

Jake smiles, the same familiar, soft smile he used to give you when you were younger and dumber and wildly in love.

Had either of you actually fallen out of love? The way he looks at you, with his entire heart in his eyes, suggests the answer is no. And all your favourite things about him are still there — and he’s still the only person you’ve ever loved.

You don’t believe in soulmates, divine intervention, destiny. You despise the notion of being a cosmic plaything, your fate all set out in the stars for you to execute. No, whatever you do, you do it deliberately. You fall in love deliberately. You choose deliberately. You would’ve found your way back to Jake eventually.

——————————

thanks for reading!

-minastras <3

[samluvikue]

SORRY DADDY ...DADDY SORRY

[samluvikue]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony. vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, doggystle, sideways, front wards, backwards, upside down, 360 degrees. skin on skin, on the living room, in the bedroom, in the fridge, in the closet, on the ceiling, on the walls, on the bathroom, on the the couch, in the car and on the street

[samluvikue]

I'm in love 😞 please I need part 2 , i need dad Jake

OFF THE ICE s.jy

synopsis ⤑ You were having fun. That’s all. You were young, in college, readying yourself for true adulthood. You didn’t know adulthood would come so quick, in the form of a baby you didn’t plan for. With a man who was more in love with Hockey than anything else. This wasn’t supposed to happen, and it definitely wasn’t supposed to happen with him.

pairings ⤑ hockey player!Jake x pregnant!reader word count ⤑ 18k

warnings ⤑ pregnancy trope, smut, friends with benefits, angst , depictions of hockey injuries , probably more

Two pink lines. 

They stare back at you, unwavering. Bold. Permanent. 

Your breath catches in your throat. A dull roaring fills your ears, like the moment before a crash, when you see the impact coming but there’s nothing you can do to stop it. You blink once, twice, waiting for the second line to disappear, for reality to snap back into place. It doesn’t. It stays. Pregnant. A hollow, sinking feeling settles in your stomach. No. No, no, no. This can’t be real. Your fingers tighten around the plastic stick, your knuckles aching from the grip. You were careful. You were always careful. Birth control, condoms, every precaution. You did everything right. So how the hell did this happen? 

You shake your head, your breathing ragged. Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe the test is faulty. They mess up sometimes, right? You should take another one. Five more. Ten. You should drive to the store right now and buy every test on the shelf, because this? This can’t be happening. Your legs feel unsteady beneath you as you sink onto the closed toilet lid, one hand gripping the edge of the sink to ground yourself. 

Jake. His name crashes through your thoughts, and a fresh wave of nausea rises up in your throat. Oh my god. There’s only one person it could be. Jake. Your friend. Your friend with benefits. You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms against them. Your mind flickers through the memories—late nights tangled in sheets, whispered jokes between kisses, the unspoken agreement that this wasn’t supposed to mean anything. It was fun. Easy. No strings attached. Except now, there are strings. Big, life-altering, impossible-to-ignore strings. 

Your stomach lurches. You press a hand to it instinctively, but it’s still just you. Just your body, your life—except it’s not just yours anymore, is it? A shuddering breath leaves you, and suddenly, you feel so, so small. What are you supposed to do? You’re in your second year of college. You have plans, dreams, a future that doesn’t include cribs and lullabies and tiny fingers clutching at yours. You can’t be a mother. Not now. Maybe not ever. And Jake? 

Jake has hockey. The game is his whole world—the early-morning practices, the late-night workouts, the way his eyes light up when he steps onto the ice. He has a career to chase, a future that doesn’t include this. 

This will ruin everything. Tears burn at the edges of your vision, but you blink them away. You can’t cry. Not yet. Not until you’re sure, not until you go to the doctor and they tell you this is all some cruel mistake. Because if it’s not… You swallow hard, gripping the test so tightly it feels like it might snap in half. You can’t tell him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. If you don’t say it out loud, if you don’t give it weight, maybe it won’t be real. Maybe you can find a way to make this all go away. But deep down, beneath the panic, beneath the sheer, suffocating terror— You already know. This is real. And there’s no undoing it. 

Your breath shudders as you stare at the test, the past clawing its way back to you. You’re racking your brain trying to find when the two of you went wrong, when you stopped being careful. You know exactly how. The memory slams into you, sharp and unforgiving—that night. 

Two months ago. 

The house was packed. Bodies pressed together, the air thick with heat and sweat and the sharp bite of liquor. Music pounded through the speakers, rattling the walls, the bass thrumming through your chest. The whole hockey team was celebrating their win, and Jake was at the center of it all, grinning like he owned the night. Heeseung had won it all, again. Except he was too busy pulling his girlfriend into a random room to really celebrate much. 

You weren’t even supposed to be here—you had a paper due, an exam creeping up—but when Jake texted “Where are you? We won. Get your ass over here,” you rolled your eyes, threw on something half-decent, and showed up anyway. And now you were here. Back pressed against a bathroom door, your fingers tangled in Jake’s hoodie, his mouth hot against yours. A breathless laugh escaped you between kisses, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in your veins. “I just came to say congrats.” 

Jake grinned against your lips. “This is how you say congrats?” You smirked. “I was gonna buy you a beer, but—” 

His hands slid down your sides, rough and familiar, pulling you flush against him. “This is better.” And god, it was. You had always liked this about Jake—how easy it was, how uncomplicated. No messy feelings, no awkward expectations. Just heat, just want, just the press of his body against yours as he backed you up against the bathroom sink. Your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging it up, your mouths moving together in that frantic, greedy way they always did when neither of you could be bothered to make it back to one of your apartments. 

“Quickie?” you breathed against his lips, teasing. Jake groaned, already fumbling with your jeans. “Fuck, yeah.” It was fast. Dizzying. His hands were everywhere, pushing, pulling, unzipping. Your back hit the counter, your fingers in his hair, his mouth tracing fire along your throat. Your skin was hot, your pulse erratic, and nothing else mattered—not the party raging outside the door, not the alcohol humming through your system, not the fact that you weren’t exactly thinking. 

It wasn’t until he was pressed against you, skin to skin, that something in the back of your mind lurched. You blinked up at him, breathless. “Wait—do you have a—” 

Jake cursed under his breath. “Shit. No. I didn’t—” He moved like he was about to pull back, but god, you wanted him. The ache was unbearable, your body screaming at you to just— “It’s fine,” you whispered. You’re on the pill. It’s just one time. Jake hesitated, his hands gripping your waist like he was giving himself a second to think, but then your mouth was on his again, and whatever sliver of self-restraint he had vanished. 

With one delicious roll of his hips against yours he was a goner. “Holy- f-fuck.” Jake hissed, his mouth agape and eyes heavy lidded as he looked down at where the two of you were perfectly intertwined. “Fuck. Fuck.” 

“How’s that feeling, champion?” You purred in his ear, your hands playing in his hair as he continued his assault on your pussy. 

“Such a pretty pussy..” Jake groaned. His grip on your thighs was almost bruising but you didn't care, you welcomed the pain. Your head leaned back, hitting the mirror as moans fell from your lips like a mantra. Jake’s lips found the column of your neck sucking and biting at the skin. “You like that, baby?” 

“Uh-huh” You nodded your head finding it hard to find the ability to speak when Jake was doing unspeakable things to you. Jake’s thrusts were starting to become frantic, his moans higher and more frequent as it became apparent he was closer and closer to the edge. The music outside the door thumped, sounds of muffled voices passing by the door fell on deaf ears. You were too wrapped up in the way Jake was making you feel, coupled with the buzz of alcohol flowing through your veins. It was almost euphoric when your orgasm hit. Your legs shaking in Jake’s grip. 

“God-” Jake breathed. Your orgasm served as a catalyst for his own. His hips slamming against yours with finality. It was reckless. It was careless. It was just once. Except once was enough. 

Present day. 

Your stomach lurches. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the memory away, willing yourself back into the safety of denial. But it’s useless. The test is still in your hands. The two pink lines are still staring back at you. And no matter how much you wish you could undo it— You can’t. 

Your hands are still trembling. Your fingers ache from how hard you’re clutching the test, but you can’t let go. If you set it down, if you let it slip from your grasp, that means you’re accepting it. That means this is real.A choked sound slips past your lips before you can stop it. Your vision blurs. Then it happens—you break. 

A sob rips through your chest, raw and unrestrained. You fold in on yourself, pressing a hand over your mouth to smother the sounds, but it doesn’t stop the tears from coming. They fall in hot, messy streaks, slipping down your cheeks, soaking into your shirt. Your whole body shakes with it, shoulders curled forward, knees pulled up as if making yourself smaller might make this moment disappear. But nothing disappears. Nothing changes. You’re still here. Still alone in this room. Still pregnant. 

The word echoes inside your skull, over and over, until it drowns out everything else. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. The panic tightens around your ribs like a vice, and suddenly, you can’t breathe. You gasp, swallowing down air, trying to steady yourself, but it’s like you’re stuck underwater. Like you’re drowning. You don’t know how long you sit there—minutes? Hours? Time blurs, slipping through your fingers like sand. All you know is that you can’t do this. 

You can’t be pregnant. You can’t be a mom. You can’t tell Jake. A fresh wave of nausea churns in your stomach at the thought of him. Of his reaction. Of what this will do to him. To you. Jake, with his whole future mapped out in skates and ice and championships. Jake, who has never even hinted at wanting something serious with you—because this wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Because it never has. And now, you’re carrying something that means everything. You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your hands against them. If you don’t see the test, if you don’t look at it, maybe—maybe—No.

You inhale sharply, forcing your mind through the fog of panic. There’s only one thing you can do right now. Only one thing that makes sense. Before you tell Jake—before you even let yourself fully believe this—you need to be sure. A pregnancy test is just plastic and dye. It could be wrong. It could be wrong. A doctor. You need a doctor. 

The thought latches onto you like a lifeline. If you go to the doctor and they tell you this is a mistake—if they tell you that somehow, someway, those pink lines don’t mean what you think they mean—then you can pretend this moment never happened. You can wipe it from existence. You have to know. Your phone is on your nightstand, facedown, dark. You force yourself to move, to function. Your limbs feel heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and fear and the sheer impossibility of what’s happening, but somehow, you grab it. Your fingers are still shaking when you pull up the campus clinic’s number. 

You hesitate. Your thumb hovers over the call button, the moment stretching out in front of you. Because if you make this appointment—if you hear a doctor say the words out loud— Then it’s real. And once it’s real, you can never go back. A single tear drips onto the phone screen, smudging the numbers. You close your eyes. And you press call. 

The next day feels like a fever dream. You go through the motions, pretending your world hasn’t tilted off its axis. But every breath, every step, every blink reminds you that something is different. That there’s something inside you—growing, forming, changing everything. You haven’t said a word to anyone. 

Yuna had texted this morning to let you know she was crashing at her friend’s place again. You almost told her. You almost begged her to come home, to sit with you, to make you feel like you weren’t completely alone in this—but you couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not until the doctor confirms what you already know deep in your bones. So, you’ve spent the entire day in silence. Sitting with this information like a stone in your gut, waiting for the inevitable unraveling. 

You didn’t sleep last night. Every time you closed your eyes, the thoughts crept in—images of Jake, of your future, of what this means for the rest of your life. Of every possibility, every terrible outcome. You’ve always thought of pregnancy as some far-off, abstract concept—something that happened to other people, to people who were ready, to people who wanted it. But not you. Never you. 

And now, in just a few hours, you’ll be lying on an exam table, hearing a doctor tell you how far along you are. How long ago your life changed without you even knowing. The thought makes your stomach twist, nausea curling in your throat. You’re so lost in your thoughts that when your phone rings, the sudden sound makes you jump. It’s Jake. Your heart stops. His name flashes on the screen, bold and unmistakable, and for a second, you consider letting it ring. But that’s suspicious. You never ignore Jake’s calls. That would only make him ask questions.

So, you force yourself to breathe, force yourself to steady your voice, and answer. “Hey.” 

“Hey,” he echoes, his voice easy, warm. There’s the faint sound of voices and clattering sticks in the background, and you picture him in the locker room, probably shoving his gear into his bag while talking to you. The image is so painfully normal that it makes your chest ache. “What are you up to tonight?” he asks, casual, unaware of the chaos inside you. “Practice should be done around eight. You wanna come over?” 

Your grip tightens around the phone. It’s a simple question. A question you’ve answered a hundred times before with some variation of yeah, sure or your place or mine? But tonight, everything is different, and Jake has no idea. You swallow hard, throat dry. “I—I can’t.” 

He pauses. “Why not?” Because in less than two hours, I’ll be staring at an ultrasound screen, listening to a doctor tell me how many weeks pregnant I am. Because I don’t know how to look you in the eye, knowing that inside me—inside us—something is changing, something we never planned for, never wanted. “I'm sick,” you say instead. It’s a rushed excuse, flimsy and weak. “I think I caught something.” 

Jake hums, like he doesn’t quite buy it but isn’t ready to push. “You okay?” No. Not even close. 

“Yeah,” you lie. “Just tired. I think I just need to sleep it off.” Another pause. You know Jake well enough to know he’s debating whether or not to call you out. But finally, he just sighs. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything.” 

His voice is so normal. So Jake. And for a moment, you almost break. You almost say, Actually, there is something I need. I need you to know. I need you to tell me what the hell we’re supposed to do now. I need you to promise that I’m not in this alone. But the words don’t come. Instead, you rush out, “I gotta go,” before he can say anything else. You don’t wait for his response. You hang up, your hand shaking as you set your phone facedown beside you. 

The room is too quiet again. Your heart is pounding, adrenaline making your whole body feel light and untethered. You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep pretending you’re fine when everything inside you is breaking apart. And yet, that’s exactly what you do. You wipe at your face, stand up, and grab your coat. The appointment is waiting. And whether you’re ready or not— You’re about to find out exactly how much time you have left before you have to tell Jake the truth. 

The air outside is sharp, biting against your skin as you step out of your dorm. It’s early evening, but the sky is already dark, winter pressing its cold fingers into everything it touches. Streetlights flicker to life, their glow hazy against the fog of your breath as you exhale, pulling your coat tighter around yourself. The clinic isn’t far. Just a short walk across campus. Still, every step feels heavier than the last. 

Your stomach churns with nerves, your hands stuffed deep in your pockets to hide their trembling. The closer you get, the more the reality of what you’re about to do sinks in. There’s no turning back after this. Once the doctor confirms it—once they tell you exactly how far along you are—you’ll have no choice but to face this head-on. No more pretending. No more hoping the test was wrong. You wish Yuna were here. You wish someone was here. 

But instead, you walk into the clinic alone, head ducked, shoulders curled in like you can make yourself disappear. The receptionist barely looks up as you check in, only nodding before motioning toward the chairs in the waiting area. You sit. The room smells like antiseptic and old magazines, too-bright lights buzzing overhead. Your legs bounce restlessly, fingers twisting in your lap. The other people waiting don’t even spare you a glance, but you still feel exposed, like someone could look at you and just know. Your name is called. 

Your body moves on autopilot, following the nurse down the hall, into a room. She asks questions. You answer without really hearing yourself, your voice robotic, like you’re reciting lines for a role you never wanted. Then the real part begins. You lie back on the table, cold gel spread across your stomach. The machine hums to life, and your heart pounds. You don’t know if you want to look. You don’t know if you can. But then the doctor says, “There it is.” And you do. You look. 

The screen is grainy, shifting black and white, impossible to make sense of at first. Then she moves the wand, adjusting the angle, and— Your breath catches. A tiny flicker. Your whole body freezes. “That’s the heartbeat,” the doctor says softly. “Would you like to hear it?” 

Your throat is too tight to answer. You don’t know what you expected, but not this. Not something so small, so fragile, so real. You nod. And then—sound. A rapid, steady rhythm, impossibly fast but undeniably there. Your vision blurs, and it takes you a second to realize you’re crying. 

Because this isn’t just a concept anymore. This isn’t just two pink lines or a mistake or a problem you don’t know how to solve. This is real. And whether you’re ready or not, this is happening. The doctor speaks again, gentle but firm. “You’re about seven weeks along.” 

Seven weeks. You squeeze your eyes shut. Because now there’s a heartbeat. Now there’s a timeline. Now there’s no way out of this moment, no way to pretend it hasn’t already changed you. You leave the clinic with a small printout in your hands, the black-and-white ultrasound photo pressed between your fingers. You don’t even know why you took it. Maybe because part of you knows that after tonight, everything is going to change. And Jake still has no idea. 

Back in the dorm you're still alone, Yuna not having come back yet. You were grateful for that as you just needed the time alone to process. Your phone buzzes. You flinch at the sudden vibration, your fingers tightening around the ultrasound printout still resting in your lap. It takes a second for you to move, to blink, to tear your gaze away from the tiny, grainy image on the paper. Another buzz. Your stomach twists. 

Slowly, like you already know what you’ll see, you reach for your phone and tilt the screen toward you. 

Jake: You feeling any better? 

You stare at the message, your pulse hammering in your throat. A third buzz. 

Jake: Practice just ended. Thinking about you. 

You suck in a sharp breath, a lump forming in your throat so quickly it nearly chokes you. Thinking about you. He doesn’t even realize what those words do to you right now, how they cut straight through your ribs, cracking something open inside you. You can picture him perfectly—his damp hair, his flushed cheeks, the easy way he leans against his locker while texting you, probably half-distracted, expecting you to reply with something simple. Something normal. But nothing is normal. Not anymore. The screen glares up at you, demanding an answer, but your fingers won’t move. 

What could you even say? Actually, I’m in my dorm having just left the doctor, staring at an ultrasound of the baby I never meant to have with you. But don’t worry, I’ll get back to you when I figure out how the hell to tell you. Another buzz. This time, it’s a call and you panic. Your heart slams against your ribs, and before you can stop yourself, you flip the phone over, screen-down, silencing it. The call cuts off. A few seconds later, another text comes through. 

Jake: You good? 

Your breathing is uneven. Your hands are shaking. You can’t do this. Not right now. You toss your phone away on the bed, like that will somehow make it all go away. Like that will somehow delay the inevitable. But you know it won’t you have to tell him soon, or it will eat you alive. 

For the next few hours you sit in silence, still not having left the dorm. The room is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock above your desk.  You’re curled up beneath your blankets, exhaustion pressing down on you like a weight. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep after getting back from the clinic, but your body had other plans. It wasn’t restful, though. Even in sleep, your mind wouldn’t stop spinning, replaying the sound of that tiny heartbeat over and over and over again. 

Suddenly a soft click of the door was heard. You stir, blinking blearily as the light flicks on. “Hey, are you awake?” Yuna’s voice is gentle, cautious. You push yourself up, rubbing at your eyes as you watch her drop her bag by the door. She looks guilty. “I’m sorry for being gone so long,” she says, brushing a hand through her dark hair. “Our study session ran late, and we figured, why not just turn it into a sleepover? I should’ve texted you more. I feel bad.” 

You shake your head, forcing a small, tired smile. “It’s fine. You don’t have to check in with me every second.” Yuna eyes you for a beat, like she’s trying to gauge if you really mean it. Then she sighs, kicking off her shoes before flopping onto the bed beside you. “I missed anything exciting?” Yes. No. everything. 

You swallow, shaking your head again. “Not really.” Yuna shifts, turning onto her side to face you. Then, her brows furrow. Her eyes scan your face, tracing the dark circles beneath your eyes, the tension in your jaw, the way you keep fidgeting with the edge of your blanket. “Okay, what’s wrong?” she asks, blunt as ever. 

Your heart stutters. “What? Nothing’s wrong.” 

Yuna doesn’t buy it for a second. She gives you a look, her sharp, knowing gaze cutting right through your weak attempt at indifference. “Don’t lie to me.” You open your mouth—ready to deny, to deflect, to do anything but tell the truth—but something inside you breaks. The weight of it all, the sheer impossibility of holding it in any longer, crushes you. You don’t say a word. You just reach under your pillow, where the crumpled ultrasound printout is still hidden, and pull it out with trembling fingers. 

Then, without looking at her, you hold it out. Yuna blinks, confused for a second—until she takes the paper from your hand and sees. Her entire body goes still. Silence. She stares down at the black-and-white image, her lips parting slightly. Her throat works like she wants to say something, but no words come out. Seconds stretch, heavy and suffocating. 

Finally, she looks at you. Her voice is quiet, but sharp with shock. “Is this…?” You nod, your chest tight. Yuna inhales sharply. “Holy shit.” She sits up straighter, like the weight of the moment is finally hitting her. She looks at the ultrasound again, like if she stares long enough, it’ll make sense. Then, eyes wide—voice barely above a whisper—she asks, “…It’s Jake’s? Right?” You let out a dry, humorless laugh, wiping at your face. “Of course, it is.” 

She looks up at you, eyes still wide with shock. “He’s the only one I’ve been with in a year,” you add quietly, voice almost getting lost in the space between you. Yuna swallows, nodding slowly, like she’s just now processing how real this is. Like she’s flipping through all the memories she has of you and Jake—of the nights you’d leave your dorm with a smirk and come back in one of his hoodies, of the way you never quite called him your boyfriend, of the way he was always just there. Her gaze sharpens. “How did he take it?” 

Your stomach twists. You hesitate just a second too long. Yuna’s face drops. “Oh my god.” She leans forward. “You didn’t tell him?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling deeply before shaking your head. Yuna groans, throwing her head back against the headboard. “You have got to be kidding me.” 

“Yuna—” 

“No.” She sits up straight again, looking at you with something between exasperation and concern. “You have to tell him.” 

“I know,” you say, voice tight. “I just—” 

“No,” she interrupts. “Not later, not eventually—you need to tell him now.” You shake your head quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself. Your whole body feels cold, like the weight of this conversation is seeping into your bones. “You don’t get it,” you say, your voice almost breaking. “Jake loves hockey. More than anything. More than school, more than his own goddamn life sometimes.” You sniffle, shaking your head again. “If I tell him this, he’ll—” You stop, choking on the words. 

He’ll what? Walk away? Shut down? Look at you like you’ve just ruined his entire world? You don’t even know. That’s the problem. Yuna softens. She reaches out, placing a warm hand over yours. “Jake is a good guy,” she says gently. “He would never do that to you.” You stare down at your lap, at your fingers twisting in your hoodie sleeves. She says it like it's a fact. Like there’s no question, no possibility of anything else. But she doesn’t know what you know. 

She doesn’t know how much Jake lives for the game, how hockey is the thing that keeps his blood pumping, how he lights up when he talks about it in a way he never has about anything—or anyone—else. She doesn’t know that you’re terrified. Because if you tell Jake, if you say the words out loud— it’s real and it’s scary. 

The tears come fast. Faster than you expect. One second, you’re staring at your lap, chest too tight to breathe. The next, your vision is blurring, and your shoulders shake, and a broken sound rips from your throat before you can stop it. Yuna reacts instantly. “Hey—hey, no, don’t cry,” she says, shifting closer. Her arms wrap around you before you even realize what’s happening, pulling you into the warmth of her embrace. “I got you. It’s okay.” but it’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay. You bury your face into her shoulder, gripping the fabric of her sweatshirt like it’s the only thing tethering you to the earth. She doesn’t let go, just rubs circles into your back as you fall apart. 

“I—I don’t know what to do,” you admit, voice muffled. “I’m so scared, Yuna.” She sighs, resting her chin atop your head. “I know.” A fresh wave of tears spills over. You wish you didn’t feel like this. Wish you could be stronger, steadier, more in control. But right now, you’re none of those things. Right now, you’re just a girl who made a mistake and is staring down the consequences. Yuna squeezes you a little tighter. “Listen, whatever happens, you won’t be alone in this, okay? You have me. And when you tell Jake, you’ll have him too. And even if—even if he’s an idiot about it at first, I’ll kick his ass into shape.” That actually makes you let out a weak, teary laugh. 

Yuna gasps, dramatic as always. “Did you just laugh? Oh my god, it’s a miracle.” You sniffle. “Shut up.” She pulls back just enough to grin at you, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m serious, though. If worst comes to worst, you and I will just get married and raise the baby together. Two badass moms against the world.” 

A laugh bubbles out of you, real this time. “You’d hate being married to me.” 

“Yeah, but I’d do it out of love. I’d be the hot, rich, wine-drunk mom. You’d be the stressed one who has to actually parent.” You roll your eyes, but the weight in your chest feels just a little bit lighter. Yuna smiles. “See? You’re gonna be okay.” and you think, maybe she’s right, maybe you will be okay. 

The next day feels like a blur. Again. Like you’re going through the motions of life with no real end goal. You know you have to get up, do something. Tell Jake that he’s going to be a fucking father because the longer you keep this a secret the more its eating you up inside out. 

You spend most of your day in the dorm, curled up on the couch with the TV playing some random show you’re not even paying attention to. The volume is low, just background noise to fill the silence, but it doesn’t stop your mind from racing. Jake has been calling all day. Text after text, call after call—his name keeps flashing on your screen, but you can’t bring yourself to answer. You know you should. You know avoiding him won’t make this easier. But every time you reach for your phone, your stomach twists, and your fingers freeze, and the weight of what you have to tell him slams into you all over again. So you do nothing. 

You let the calls go to voicemail. You leave the texts unread. And now, as the sun sets and the room is cast in a dim, golden glow, you’re still here—still stuck, still waiting, still pretending for just a little longer that none of this is happening. But then there's a knock on your door. And you're scared shitless because you think you know who it is. For a second, you don’t move, barely even breathe. Then another knock—firmer this time. 

Slowly, legs unsteady beneath you, you rise from the couch. Your hands feel cold as you grip the doorknob, pulse hammering in your ears as you turn it and pull the door open. And there he is. Jake. Standing in the dimly lit hallway, his hair still damp from a shower, his brows drawn together in confusion and concern. His eyes—those warm, familiar eyes—scan over you, taking in your messy hair, the exhaustion written all over your face, the way you’re not meeting his gaze. 

He shifts his weight, tilting his head. “…What’s going on with you?” You grip the edge of the door tighter. Your throat closes. Jake exhales, his expression softening as he reaches up, brushing his fingers over the side of your face like he’s trying to pull you back to him, trying to figure out what’s wrong. “You’ve been ignoring me all day.” 

His voice is quieter now, tinged with something almost like worry. You swallow hard and your chest tightens, because this is it. There's no more running because Jake is right here in front of you. Jake doesn’t wait for permission. The second you hesitate, the second you shift like you might try to close the door on him, he pushes inside. 

The door clicks shut behind him, sealing you both in. He stands there, shoulders tense, his eyes scanning over you like he’s trying to read your mind. His brows are furrowed, frustration flickering behind his gaze. “What the hell is going on with you?” he demands. 

Your stomach knots. “Jake—” 

“No, seriously,” he cuts in, voice sharp. “Why the hell have you been ignoring me all day? You haven’t answered a single one of my texts, didn’t pick up any of my calls. I had to come here just to get you to look at me.” You take a step back, wrapping your arms around yourself. The room feels too small, the air too thick. “I told you. I’m sick.” 

Jake scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “That’s bullshit.” Your breath catches. He shakes his head, eyes narrowing as he watches you. “You don’t just disappear like that. You don’t just cut me off without a reason.” He exhales sharply, like he’s trying to keep his temper in check. “Did I… do something?” His voice is quieter now, more cautious. 

“Because if I did, just—tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.” His jaw clenches. “I just—fuck, I don’t know—I miss you.” Your heart stutters. You stare at him, the weight of his words pressing into your ribs, making it even harder to breathe. “I’ve wanted to run here to you all week, tell you about my game, watch movies with you. Anything, but you're shutting me out.” This is Jake. You’re jake. And suddenly all of it feels so much worse. 

Your voice is small when you finally speak. “You didn’t do anything.” Jake takes a step closer, searching your face. “Then what is it?” You inhale shakily. Your hands tremble at your sides. Your throat burns. It’s time. There’s no easy way to do this. No way to soften it. 

So you just say it. “I’m pregnant.” 

Silence. It crashes over the room like a tidal wave. Jake doesn’t move, for a moment it looks like he doesn’t even breathe. Completely still. His face goes blank, his lips parting slightly like the words haven’t fully registered. His fingers twitch at his sides, his whole body stiff with shock. You stare at him, heart pounding, waiting—waiting for something. Some kind of reaction. Some kind of response. But he doesn’t say a word. Your stomach twists. He just keeps standing there, frozen, staring at you like you’ve just rewritten his entire reality. And maybe you had. 

You bite your lip, blinking back the burn in your eyes. When you finally speak again, your voice is quieter. Sharper. “This is your only chance to take the out.” Jake’s brows pull together slightly, but he still says nothing. You swallow the lump in your throat. “If you don’t want this, if you don’t want to be responsible for a baby, you can walk away. Right now.” Your voice shakes. “No one would blame you. I won’t blame you.” Jake blinks. Still silent. Still motionless. Your heart slams against your ribs. You hate this. Hate this. Hate that you don’t know what’s going through his head. Hate that you feel this vulnerable, this exposed, this small. 

You force yourself to look him in the eyes. “I know hockey is your life..” You trail. “ I know that’s what you’re thinking about right now. You forget that before..this, we were friends. good friends. I know what hockey means to you and I would never in a million years ask for you to choose. So I'm giving you a choice. be a dad or walk away. Neither of those involve not playing hockey. but i’m telling you right now. if you choose this, if you’re all in you better be all in because this is your only time to tap out. don’t get my hopes up then crush them when it gets too hard because i’ll never forgive you for that.” 

Jake just stands there. Still silent. Still unreadable. 

“Why are you not saying anything?” You whispered brokenly, the silence almost too much to bear. “Please say something.” 

Finally, Jake’s mouth opens but then it shuts again like he’s trying to find the ability to speak. Like a failing fish out of water. It’s nerve wracking, your body feels like it's on fire. “Please Jake.” You beg, at your wits end. 

“You’re giving me an out..” He trailed off, and your heart sank at the words. Was he really going to walk away and leave you to raise a baby alone? The thought terrified you to no end. “You’re giving me an out and a very big part of me is screaming at me to take it. it would be the smart thing, the easy thing and maybe the best thing for my career. My brain is ticking, yelling over and over ‘take the out, take the out. but there is a small part of me that outways the rest, a part that won’t let me be like the man who didn’t have the guts to raise me. that refuses to leave this kid, my kid, without a father. so, yes I'm quiet and yes I'm not saying anything. because my mind is going to war trying to think of a way to be a dad and a damn good hockey player at the sametime.” 

“Okay.” You said simply. And for a while you both sat in silence, neither of you finding the right words to say. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Did you figure it out?” You asked him. Jake’s eyes closed, a deep breath falling from his lips. 

“No.” He said simply, “but I will.” Your head shot up in surprise, your eyes wide and glassy with tears threatening to spill. 

“You’re in?” You ask with a strained voice. 

“I’m in.” 

Jake and yourself had a lot more that you had to talk about, that was for sure. But the confirmation of him staying and raising this baby with you had definitely lifted a large weight off your shoulders and although you were less terrified it didn’t mean you were prepared. You were having a baby for god's sake. That scared you to death. And you weren't sure if you were entirely ready for it. 

Over the next few weeks Jake does things that prove he's all in. The first time Jake shows up, you don’t expect it. You step out of the campus doors, arms wrapped around yourself, still shaken from your last appointment. The air is crisp, biting at your skin as you take a deep breath, trying to center yourself. And then you hear it. The sound of footsteps. The rustling of fabric. And then - “Hey.” Your head snaps up. Jake is there, leaning against the side of his car, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. His hair is messy like he’s been running his hands through it all day, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder like he just came from practice. 

Your stomach flips. “What are you doing here?” you ask. Jake shrugs, pushing off the car. “Thought you might need a ride.” 

​​You hesitate, tightening your grip on the sleeve of your hoodie. “I can take the bus,” you say, voice quiet. Jake raises a brow. “You could. Or you could let me drive you home.” You don’t have the energy to argue. Not today. So you nod. Jake doesn’t say much on the ride back. He keeps his eyes on the road, hands gripping the wheel, but every so often, his gaze flickers toward you — like he’s checking to make sure you’re still there. 

It keeps happening. 

A few days later, a jersey appears on the back of your desk chair. One of Jake’s, the fabric worn in places, his last name sprawled across the back in bold letters. You pick it up, running your fingers over the lettering. There’s a note tucked into the sleeve. "Just in case you need something warm." Your breath catches. 

The next time you see him, you don’t bring it up. But when you wear the jersey around your dorm, you pretend not to notice the way Yuna raises a knowing brow. Jake keeps showing up. Not in the obvious ways, not in ways that force anything. But in the background. In the small things. A decaf coffee left on your desk when you step out of class. A text asking if you’ve eaten. A moment at the rink where he catches your eyes before disappearing into the locker room. He doesn’t say anything about the pregnancy. Not yet. But he’s there. And that terrifies you just as much as it comforts you. 

Jake isn’t there. Not really. His body is on the ice, his skates cutting across the surface, his hands gripping his stick, but his mind—his mind is still sitting in that sterile doctor’s office, staring at a screen where a tiny, flickering heartbeat had filled the room. "There’s your baby."  He can still hear the doctor’s voice, still feel the way his stomach had plummeted as the reality of it settled in, pressing down on him like a weight he couldn’t shake. "Your baby."  Jake clenches his jaw, gripping his stick tighter. 

“Jake!” The sharp bark of his name barely registers before — CRACK. The puck flies past him, a blur of black and white as it slams into the boards. “Jesus Christ, Sim!” Jake blinks, snapping back into focus just in time to see his coach skating toward him, fuming. His teammates shift uncomfortably, casting wary glances between them as Coach Bennet stops in front of Jake, eyes blazing. 

​​“You wanna tell me where the hell your head is at today?” Coach snaps. “Because it sure as hell isn’t here.” Jake swallows hard. His grip on his stick tightens, knuckles going white. “I—” Coach doesn’t let him finish. 

“You’ve been slow all practice. Missing passes, losing pucks—you’re a vital part of this team, Sim. You don’t get to check out like this.” His voice drops slightly, but it only makes the words hit harder. “Get it together. Now.” Jake nods stiffly.  He doesn’t say anything. Because what the hell is he supposed to say? That he can’t focus because his whole life changed forever? That there’s a baby now—a real, growing baby—and he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with that? That every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is that ultrasound? 

Coach exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Take five.” Jake doesn’t argue. He skates off the ice, his heart pounding. He needs to get his head straight. Now. Because if he doesn’t — He might just lose everything. 

Jake barely makes it through the rest of practice. He’s off. Way off. His passes are sloppy. His shots lack power. He’s slow to react, too caught up in his head to play the way he’s supposed to. By the time Coach blows the final whistle, Jake is drenched in sweat and running on empty. His entire body feels tense, like his muscles are wound so tight they might snap. He just needs to get out of here. 

He needs to shower, grab his stuff, and go check on you. But before he can make it out of the locker room — “Yo, Sim!” Jake glances up, spotting Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon making their way toward him. Jay slings an arm over his shoulders, still dripping wet from his shower. “We’re heading to a party tonight. You coming?” 

Jake doesn’t even hesitate. “No.” 

Jay pulls back slightly, raising a brow. “No?” 

“Dude,” Sunghoon snorts. “It’s a Friday night, and you’re passing up a party? Who are you?” Jake exhales, shaking his head as he shoves his gear into his bag. “I just—” He hesitates. “I have somewhere to be.” 

Heeseung leans against the lockers, crossing his arms. “You’ve been weird as hell all day, man.” Jay nods. “Yeah, what’s going on with you?” 

Jake grips the strap of his duffel so tight it hurts. He could make something up. Should make something up. But instead — it just spills out, before Jake could stop it. “She’s pregnant.” The words hang heavy in the air. None of them move. None of them speak. Jay blinks. “Wait. What?” and Jake laughs.

Or at least, he tries to. It comes out more like a broken, choked sound. His throat feels tight, his chest squeezed so hard it physically hurts. “She’s pregnant,” he says again, voice cracking. And then, before he can even stop it — He’s crying. Right there, in the middle of the locker room, surrounded by his teammates, Jake fucking breaks. 

His head falls into his hands, his shoulders shaking as he lets it out. Because he’s scared. Because he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. Because this isn’t part of the plan. And for the first time in his entire life, he doesn’t know how to fix it. “Fuck, man,” Heeseung breathes. Jay is the first to move, stepping closer and clamping a firm hand on Jake’s back. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Jake shakes his head. “No, it’s not.” His voice is raw, shaky. “I don’t—I don’t know what to do.” 

Sunghoon exhales through his nose. “Okay, first? Breathe.” Jake tries. And fails. He sucks in a breath, but it feels like nothing is getting in. His heart is racing, his mind spinning, and everything is just — “Jake.” Jay squeezes his shoulder. “You’re not alone in this.” Jake lifts his head, eyes red, glassy. 

“We got you, man,” Heeseung says quietly. “No matter what.” Sunghoon nods. “Yeah. And, I mean—” He gestures around. “This isn’t exactly news you should be dealing with alone.” 

Jay nudges him lightly. “Have you told her how you feel?” Jake wipes at his face, sniffing. “I don’t even know how I feel.” His voice wobbles. “I just—I need to see her.” Jay exchanges a glance with Heeseung before looking back at him. “Then go” 

Jake doesn’t wait. He grabs his bag, slings it over his shoulder, and leaves. 

The knock at your door startles you. You freeze mid-reach for your phone, heart suddenly hammering in your chest. You already know who it is. For a second, you consider ignoring it. Pretending you’re asleep. Pretending you’re busy. You’re not sure you want any company. But you can’t do that forever. 

So you force yourself up, smoothing down the front of your sweater as you cross the room. You take a steadying breath, gripping the doorknob with fingers that tremble just slightly, and pull it open. Jake stands there. The first thing you notice is the hoodie—dark gray, pulled up over his head, casting a shadow over his face. His duffel bag is slung over one shoulder, his hockey gear probably stuffed inside. His posture is a little tense, like he had to talk himself into coming here. But the real thing that catches your attention is what he’s holding. 

A takeout bag. Your throat tightens. “I, uh…” Jake shifts on his feet, glancing down at the bag like he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with it. “I remembered you said you were craving this, so I thought—” He hesitates, clears his throat, then lifts the bag slightly. “I figured I’d bring you some.” Something cracks inside you. Because it’s such a small thing—just food, just a meal—but the fact that he remembered that he went out of his way after practice when he was probably exhausted, when he could have avoided all of this — You swallow hard and step aside, voice softer than you mean for it to be. “Come in.” 

Jake hesitates for just a second before stepping inside. The door clicks shut behind him. He doesn’t look around, doesn’t hesitate, just walks straight over to your desk and sets the bag down before collapsing onto your bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like this is normal. Like nothing between you has changed. He stretches out slightly, fingers drumming against his thigh before he looks at you. 

“So,” he says, voice easy, like he’s not breaking some invisible barrier by being here. “How was your day?” You blink. It’s such a simple question, but it feels heavier than it should. Because what does he want to hear? That you spent most of it overthinking? That you barely slept last night, kept up by the thought of everything crashing down around you? That every time you close your eyes, you see your own future in a way you never imagined it before? Instead, you inhale deeply and say, “It was fine.” Jake gives you a look. You fidget slightly under his gaze before sighing and elaborating. 

“I had class this morning,” you start, perching on the edge of your chair. “Yuna and I grabbed coffee after, but the barista completely messed up my order, so I ended up drinking the strongest espresso of my life. I swear I could hear colors after that.” Jake snorts, shaking his head. “Then I came back to my room, tried to take a nap, but the guys across the hall decided to have a full-on garage band session at, like, peak volume.” You groan, rubbing your temples. “It sounded like someone was murdering an electric guitar.” 

Jake tilts his head. “Were they at least good?” 

You deadpan. “No.” He chuckles, the sound low and familiar, something that almost makes you feel lighter. So you keep talking. You tell him about your classes, about how Yuna dragged you into watching some new drama that she’s absolutely obsessed with. About how you got sucked into a rabbit hole of cat videos on your phone, and one was so funny that you laughed until you cried. And the whole time, Jake listens. Not just in the polite, half-distracted way people sometimes do. No—he really listens. He nods at the right moments. Asks questions. Throws in sarcastic comments that make you roll your eyes but also bite back a smile. And it’s so… easy. 

For a few minutes, it’s like things are the way they used to be. Like there’s no giant, life-changing revelation hanging over your heads. Like it’s just you and him. Like it’s always been. But that’s the thing about pretending. Eventually, reality always catches up. 

You shouldn’t be staring at Jake. But you are. It’s not your fault, really. He’s sitting on your bed like he belongs there, hoodie still pulled up, fingers absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on your blanket. The room is dim, just your bedside lamp casting a soft glow, making everything feel warmer. Closer. And maybe it’s the lighting, or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s here, but — he looks good. Really, good. You could blame it on the hormones but you know that’s not entirely true, you were attracted to Jake enough to fuck him on the regular. 

Which is so not what you should be thinking about right now. Especially when everything between you is so much bigger than it used to be. Still, you can’t help but glance at him as you chew your food, watching the way his jaw tenses like he’s caught up in his own head. So, to fill the silence, you ask, “What about you? What did you do today?” 

Jake blinks, like you’ve just pulled him out of a thought he wasn’t ready to leave. Then he sighs. “Practice.” You raise a brow. “That’s it?” He huffs out a soft laugh. “That’s pretty much all I do.” 

You roll your eyes, leaning back against your pillows. “Yeah, yeah. Hockey is life.” Jake smirks. “Glad you’re finally getting it.” You nudge him lightly with your foot, and for the first time in days, something feels normal. But then you see the way his smirk fades slightly, the way his fingers keep fidgeting. 

“How was practice?” you ask. Jake hesitates. And you can tell — whatever it is, he doesn’t want to say it. But after a moment, he sighs. “It sucked.” That makes you pause. Jake never complains about practice. Even when he’s exhausted, even when he’s been chewed out by his coach, even when he’s sore and bruised—he always shrugs it off. It’s just part of the game. So the fact that he’s saying it now means something. 

“Why?” you ask, setting your food down. Jake drags a hand through his hair, exhaling. “I don’t know. I couldn’t focus. Coach was on my ass all day. Kept telling me to get my head in the game.” He shakes his head, voice quieter now. “I just… couldn’t.” Your chest tightens. Because you know. You know why he couldn’t focus. And it hits you, suddenly — Jake is scared. Maybe not in the same way you are. Maybe not in the overwhelming, spiraling, how-will-I-ever-handle-this way that’s been sitting heavy in your chest since you saw that test. 

But still—Jake is scared. And for the first time since this whole thing started, you realize, You’re not the only one whose world is changing. Jake won’t look at you. His eyes stay fixed on some invisible point in the room, his jaw tense, fingers still picking at the frayed thread on your blanket. He looks like he wants to say something, like there’s too much sitting on his tongue, but he doesn’t know where to start. And for some reason, that makes your chest ache. 

“Jake…” you start carefully. His head tilts slightly, but he still doesn’t meet your gaze. You swallow. “Is it because of—”

“You,” Jake says suddenly. The word is soft. Quiet. But it still punches the air right out of your lungs. Your breath catches. “Me?” Jake finally lifts his eyes to yours, and god, they’re unreadable. Dark, searching—like he’s trying to figure out what the hell to do with everything inside him.

“Yeah,” he mutters. His voice is rough, like he’s only just now admitting it to himself. “It’s you. It’s… this.” He gestures vaguely, and you know he means all of it. The pregnancy. The secret you held onto for weeks. The way everything between you is shifting, unsteady, the ground cracking beneath both of you in real time. And it’s weird. Because part of you has spent so long thinking about how this will change your life—how everything is unraveling for you—that it didn’t even occur to you that Jake is unraveling too.

That he’s scared. Just like you. The thought makes something twist deep in your stomach. You exhale, shifting slightly so you’re facing him completely. “I didn’t mean to mess everything up for you.” Jake’s brows knit together immediately. “What?” You glance down at your hands. “I know hockey is your whole life, Jake. I know you’ve got… plans, and dreams, and this wasn’t supposed to happen. And now it’s just—” You trail off, biting the inside of your cheek before whispering, “I don’t want you to hate me for it.”

Jake stiffens. The room is silent for a long, painful moment. Then, suddenly, he shifts—pushing himself off the bed and moving toward you so fast that your breath stumbles. He doesn’t touch you, but he’s closer now. Close enough that you can see the way his knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping his hoodie sleeves.

“Don’t say that,” he says, voice low. “Don’t ever say that.” You blink up at him, startled by the sudden intensity in his eyes. Jake shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “I could never hate you.” Your throat tightens. “But I—”

“You didn’t do this alone.” His voice is firm, certain. “You didn’t just wake up one day and decide to flip my life upside down. I was there, too.” You let out a weak, humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m the one carrying it.” Jake flinches slightly at the word carrying, but he doesn’t look away.

“I know,” he says. His voice is softer now. “And I know it’s different for you. I know I’ll never fully get what that feels like.” He swallows hard. “But this isn’t just on you, okay? I’m scared too.” Your heart stutters. Because this is Jake. The Jake who’s always been so steady. So sure of himself. Who skates like nothing in the world could shake him. And now he’s sitting in front of you, looking like he’s the one who can’t find his footing.

You don’t know what to say. So you just nod. Jake exhales, dragging a hand through his hair before falling back onto your bed. He stares at the ceiling for a long second, letting the silence settle between you again. Then, with a small, almost bitter laugh, he says, “God, no wonder Coach was on my ass all day.”

That startles a laugh out of you. It’s small, barely there, but Jake notices. His lips twitch. “Oh, so now it’s funny?”

You sniffle, shaking your head. “I mean… kinda.” Jake groans, throwing an arm over his face. “Glad you’re enjoying my suffering.” You roll your eyes, nudging his foot lightly with yours. “It’s not suffering, it’s called consequences.” Jake drops his arm, lifting his head to give you a flat look. “I don’t like that word.”

You smirk. “Well, get used to it.” For a moment, you just sit there, looking at each other. And something settles. The air is still heavy, the weight of everything still pressing down on both of you. But… It doesn’t feel so suffocating anymore. 

The rest of the night kept going just like that, sat next together watching reruns, laughing about everything. You’re trying to focus on the show playing in front of you. Really, you are. But it’s hard—and not just because Jake keeps making little comments about the plot, half-serious, half to mess with you. It’s because you can’t stop thinking about it. Something that has been plaguing you these past few weeks. The feeling has been creeping up on you for weeks now, an itch under your skin that only seems to get worse. At first, you thought it was just stress, or maybe a weird symptom of everything your body was going through. But now, sitting here next to Jake, your legs tucked up under you, his thigh warm where it brushes against yours — 

You know exactly what it is. And god, it’s humiliating. Because there’s no good way to say it. Hey, Jake, I know our lives are changing forever, but by the way, I’m really, really horny. You press your lips together, eyes flickering toward him. He looks relaxed, his arm slung lazily over the back of your bed, fingers occasionally tapping against the blanket. His hoodie has shifted slightly, revealing a strip of skin above the waistband of his sweats, and why are you even looking at that? 

You force yourself to look back at the screen, gripping your blanket like it might physically restrain you from saying something stupid. But then Jake shifts, turning toward you slightly. “You good?” You freeze. “What?” 

Jake gives you a look. “You keep making weird faces.” Shit. You clear your throat, shaking your head quickly. “I’m fine.” Jake raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You sure?” 

No. “Yeah.” but he doesn’t look away, god can he just look away. “Because if something’s wrong—” 

“I said I’m fine,” you blurt, a little too quickly, a little too defensive. Jake blinks. You clamp your mouth shut. Then, slowly, his expression shifts. Like he’s figuring something out. Like he’s putting a puzzle together, piece by piece. And suddenly, you regret everything. Because this is Jake.

Jake, who knows your body better than anyone. Jake, who has spent the last year reading your little shifts and signals, knowing exactly when you wanted him—when you needed him—even before you ever said a word. And now he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what’s on your mind. Your stomach flips. His lips part slightly, like he’s about to say something — But you panic, snatching the remote and turning the volume up way too high.

Jake flinches at the sudden blare of noise. “Jesus—”

“Sorry!” You fumble with the remote, lowering it again. “My hand slipped.” Jake stares at you. Then—slowly—he smirks. Your stomach plummets. “Your hand slipped?” he repeats, amusement dripping from his tone. You nod quickly. “Yep.” Jake tilts his head, still watching you. Your heart is pounding. And you realize, with absolute horror, that there is no way you’re getting out of this.

Jake is still watching you. And you can tell by the glint in his eyes, the way his smirk is growing, that he knows something’s up. So, before he can start teasing you, you blurt out the first thing on your mind. “Are you gonna sleep with other girls?”

Jake stills. His smirk drops instantly. His whole expression shifts from amused to completely caught off guard. “What?” You don’t back down. You cross your arms, looking straight at him. “Now that I’m, you know…” You gesture vaguely toward your stomach. “Are you still gonna sleep with other people?”

Jake’s eyebrows furrow, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “No.” Just that. No. No hesitation, no confusion, just a simple, matter-of-fact no. And that does something to you. Because you weren’t even sure why you asked it. Maybe because you never really talked about exclusivity before. Maybe because things between you have felt so different lately, and you needed to know. Or maybe because part of you was scared that nothing was different for Jake  that he’d still be going out, still be with other girls, while you were here, pregnant with his child.

But now, sitting here, watching the way his brows are still pulled together like he can’t believe you even asked  Something inside you loosens. You exhale. “Good.” Then, before you can overthink it, before Jake can even process what’s happening You lean in and kiss him.

Jake freezes. It’s so different from the way things used to be. Before, your kisses were quick, hungry, never filled with anything but need. But this is slow. This is intentional. And it’s Jake who responds first.

He melts into you, his hand reaching up to cup your jaw, tilting your face just right as he deepens the kiss. His lips are warm, familiar, but there’s something new in the way he kisses you now, something softer, something that lingers. And god, you need him. Every built-up thought, every moment of tension from the last few weeks, crashes into you all at once. You press closer, hands fisting into his hoodie, pulling him in.

Jake makes a low sound in his throat, his grip tightening slightly, his other hand sliding down to your waist. His fingers skim the hem of your shirt, hesitate — Then he pulls away just slightly, forehead resting against yours, breathing hard. “Are you—” His voice is hoarse, strained. “Are you sure?” You nod. Jake studies you for a moment, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. But when he finds none, his lips crash into yours again. And this time  Neither of you stop. Jake kisses you like he’s making up for lost time.

Like he’s been waiting for this, just as much as you have. His hands slide up your sides, slow and careful, like he’s still giving you a chance to change your mind but you don’t. You can’t. You press closer, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie, and that’s all it takes. A low curse slips from his lips as he pulls the hoodie over his head, tossing it aside. The sight of him, his flushed skin, his rapid breathing sends a shiver through you. He’s so warm, and when his hands find your hips, you let him guide you back against the pillows, your body reacting on instinct.

Everything feels different. Not in a bad way. Not in a way that makes you hesitate. Just in a way that makes you aware of the weight of his body, the way he touches you, the way he looks at you. Because for the first time, it’s not just mindless. For the first time, Jake is looking at you like he actually sees you. And god, you want him.

His lips trail down, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, your neck, your shoulder everywhere. His hands are careful, slower than usual, like he’s savoring the moment instead of rushing through it. And that’s the thing there’s no rush. Because tonight isn’t about just getting lost in each other. Tonight is something else. Something neither of you have had before. And as Jake’s lips find yours again, breathless, desperate, needing you let yourself fall. 

He took his time peeling off every layer of clothing that stood in your way, his sensual kisses leaving butterfly like feelings in his wake as he moved them up and down the expanse of your neck. It was more romantic than you had ever experienced. He was taking his time with you, cherishing your body as he helped you, cradled you. There was beauty in the way the two of you were finally joined, again. 

You are on top of him, your knees on either side of his hips, lifting yourself up than crashing down to the tune of your own heartbeat in your ears. Jake drank in the sight of you, his hands running up and down your body, squeezing at your breasts like a vice. They were noticeably bigger and it was apparent that Jake loved it. 

Your moans and groans grew in tandem as Jake whispered dirty things into your ear. The gasps he let out everytime your hips slapped against yours served as a catalyst to your already awaiting orgasm. It hit you like a tidal wave, washing over your body in its wake. Jake followed not long after. His body is shaking along with yours. And when it was over, you sat atop him with him still nestled deep inside of you and fell asleep. Feeling more peaceful than you have in weeks. 

The next morning, the first thing you register is warmth. It’s different from the usual comfort of your blankets or the lingering haze of sleep. It’s heavier, grounding, and when you blink your eyes open, it takes you a second to realize why. Jake is still next to you. He’s lying on his stomach, face half-buried in the pillow, one arm stretched lazily across your waist. His breathing is slow, deep, even, and in the soft morning light filtering through your curtains, he looks so peaceful. So different.

Jake is always moving, always carrying some kind of restless energy on the ice, at parties, even just sitting next to you. But right now, he’s still. His hair is a mess, sticking up at odd angles, his lips parted slightly as he sleeps. You can feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the subtle weight of his arm over you, and for a brief, fragile moment, you let yourself just exist here. In this sliver of morning where nothing has to be said. Where nothing has to change. But eventually, Jake stirs.

He shifts against the pillow, letting out a low hum as his lashes flutter open, still heavy with sleep. His grip on you tightens for a second before he pulls away, rubbing at his face. You watch as he blinks a few times, clearly still waking up, before his gaze finally settles on you. A small, lazy smile.

"Mornin’," he murmurs, his voice low, hoarse. You swallow, forcing yourself to look away from the mess of his hair, the sleep-drunk warmth in his eyes. "Morning." Jake shifts onto his side, his movements slower than usual, more relaxed. His eyes flicker toward the bedside table, where his phone buzzes quietly, before he turns back to you.

"The frat’s having a thing tonight," he says, voice still rough from sleep. "Not a party, just a small get-together. You should come." You hesitate. "A get-together?"

Jake nods, stretching one arm above his head before letting it drop back onto the pillow. "Yeah. Just the guys, Yunjin, Yuna, Heeseung’s girl. No crazy shit." He tilts his head slightly, studying you. “It might be good for you.” There’s something careful in the way he says it. Like he’s watching for your reaction. And the truth is, you don’t know how to feel. You haven’t really been out since everything happened. The idea of being around everyone again of feeling like things are normal when they’re so clearly not makes something twist in your chest.

Jake notices. "You don’t have to," he says, quieter now. “I just thought—" He stops, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I just thought you might wanna get out for a bit. Clear your head.” And the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker to your stomach for the briefest second before meeting yours again.  You know what he means. He’s giving you an out. If you don’t want to go, he won’t push. If you say no, he won’t mention it again. But the idea lingers.

Because part of you does miss it. Misses laughing with Yuna and Yunjin, miss sitting around and watching Heeseung get bullied by the guys, miss feeling like yourself. Even if things aren’t the same anymore. You exhale slowly, biting the inside of your cheek. “…Okay.” Jake blinks, like he wasn’t expecting you to actually agree. Then slowly, a small smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah?” You nod, and something inside you eases. This could be fun and god knows you need that in your life right about now. 

That night, air is crisp as you step outside, carrying the first whispers of winter on its breath. You tug your coat tighter around you, relishing in the warmth as you walk alongside Jake. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, the fabric pulled over his head, but you can still see the easy grin playing at his lips. There’s something light about tonight, something you hadn’t expected. It’s been weeks of suffocating thoughts, of holding your breath, of feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on your chest. But tonight, for the first time, that pressure isn’t there. Maybe it’s because you’re choosing this. Or maybe it’s because Jake's here with you. 

Jake glances at you as you walk. “You good?” 

You nod. “Yeah.” 

“You sure?” He nudges your arm lightly with his elbow, playful, teasing. “Because I don’t wanna show up and have you ditch me two minutes in. That’d be kinda embarrassing.” You roll your eyes but can’t fight the small laugh that escapes you. “I’m not gonna ditch you.” Jake hums, side-eyeing you like he doesn’t quite believe you. “I dunno. You’ve been real unpredictable lately.”  You nudge him back, a little harder this time, and he lets out a soft chuckle.

The sidewalk stretches ahead, illuminated by the golden glow of streetlights. It’s late enough that campus is quiet, the usual bustle of students reduced to only the occasional passing group, muffled laughter carrying through the air. The night feels calm. Jake walks beside you in that familiar, effortless way—like being near you is second nature. And maybe it is. Maybe, despite everything, it always has been You glance over at him. “So, what exactly is this get-together?”

Jake shrugs. “Just a small thing. Heeseung and Jay wanted to do something before our next away game. No crazy party, just hanging out.”

“And you’re sure about that?”

“Swear on my life.” He presses a hand over his heart. “No surprise kegs, no random strangers passing out in the hall. Just us.” It sounds… nice. Like the kind of normalcy you hadn’t realized you missed until now. The thought makes you exhale softly, your steps slowing just a fraction. You hadn’t expected to feel good tonight. Hadn’t expected to look forward to anything, let alone this. Jake notices your pause and turns slightly, walking backward now so he can face you. “Hey,” he says, tilting his head, “we can still turn around, you know. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” But you do.

So you shake your head. “I wanna go.” Jake studies you for a second, like he’s searching for any hesitation. But there isn’t any. Not tonight. Eventually, he nods. “Okay,” he says. Then, his lips twitch into something softer. “Good.” And as you near the house, the sound of laughter spilling out onto the porch, the glow of string lights hanging from the windows, You realize you’re glad you came. 

The warmth of the frat house greets you the moment you step inside, a stark contrast to the chill outside. The air is thick with the scent of garlic bread and pasta, something home-cooked and rich, filling the space with a kind of comfort you hadn’t expected. Laughter hums in the background, the low murmur of conversation weaving between the sound of utensils clinking against plates. It’s not the kind of party you’d grown used to at this house. No booming music rattling the walls, no overwhelming crush of bodies moving in tandem, no spilled drinks coating the floor in sticky regret. Instead, it feels warm, familiar. Like a gathering of people who actually care about each other. Jake’s friends greet him instantly, throwing easy nods and teasing jabs his way. Jay claps him on the shoulder, Heeseung tosses some offhand comment about how “Wow, Sim, you actually showed up for once?” but then their attention shifts to you.

“Hey!” Yunjin grins, pulling you into a quick hug. “We were wondering if you’d come.” You smile. “Yeah, Jake convinced me.”

“Good. You needed to get out,” Yuna says, appearing at your side with her usual knowing smirk. “You can’t just sit in the dorm watching Netflix and eating fruit snacks for the next few months.”

You narrow your eyes. “That was one time.”

Yunjin snickers. “Sure, babe.”

There’s no judgment in their words, though, just familiarity. That easy friendship that makes your chest loosen. Everyone settles into a comfortable rhythm as the night unfolds, plates passed around, laughter spilling over casual conversation, Jake leaning back into the couch beside you, his arm draped along the back of it, close but not quite touching. And then, at some point, the conversation shifts.

“So,” Yunjin says, sitting forward, her eyes flickering between you and Jake. “We have to talk about something important.” You blink. “Uh… okay?”

Yuna grins. “A baby shower.” You choke on your drink. “A what?”

“A baby shower!” Heeseung’s girlfriend nods eagerly. “Come on, you have to have one! It’ll be so cute!” You stare at them. “I mean, I—”

“It’s not really up to you,” Yunjin interrupts, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ve already decided. We’re throwing one.” Jake huffs a small laugh beside you, shaking his head. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“You’re having a baby, dude. This is happening.” Jay gestures between the two of you. “You might as well have a party for it.” You glance at Jake, unsure what to say. The idea of a baby shower hadn’t even crossed your mind yet. There’s been so much to think about. doctor’s appointments, your classes, the slow, terrifying reality of your life shifting that something as normal as a baby shower hadn’t even made it onto the list. But the way everyone is looking at you excited, hopeful, like they genuinely want to do this for you makes something warm settle in your chest.

Jake’s knee bumps against yours as he shifts beside you. “What do you think?” he asks, voice low enough that it’s meant just for you. You hesitate for only a second before nodding. “I think…” You exhale, looking back at your friends. “I think it sounds exciting.” The girls cheer. Heeseung claps Jake on the back. “Guess you better start making a registry, man.” Jake groans, but there’s something soft in his expression, something light. Something you’d love to see over and over again until you die. 

The conversation drifts naturally, flowing from one topic to the next like the rise and fall of a tide. The laughter still lingers in the air, the warmth of it curling around you like a blanket, but then the topic shifts. Jay leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. “Man, this schedule is gonna kill me.”

Heeseung snorts. “You say that every year.”

“Yeah, and I mean it every year.” Jay groans, letting his head fall back against the couch. “Back-to-back away games? We barely get time to breathe.” Jake lets out a low chuckle beside you. “You’re so dramatic.”

Jay lifts his head just enough to glare at him. “Shut up, Sim. You love this shit.” Jake shrugs, unbothered. “I mean, yeah. It’s hockey. What’s not to love?” And just like that, the floodgates open. The guys dive into a conversation that feels almost foreign to you, play schedules, practice drills, strategies for upcoming games. They speak in a language that’s second nature to them, that thrives in their bones, their voices animated, hands gesturing wildly as they argue over stats and game plans. And at first, it’s nothing. At first, you just sit there, listening. But then — Then it starts to settle.

Jake does love this. It’s not just a hobby, not just a college sport—it’s his life. The hours, the dedication, the grueling schedule—it doesn’t seem to weigh on him the way it does the others. He thrives in it. He needs it. And this is just college. If he’s this busy now…

The thought creeps in, slow but merciless. If this is what his schedule looks like now—morning practices, late-night workouts, weekend-long away games—what the hell is it going to look like when he goes pro? Because he will. You know it as sure as you know the sun will rise in the morning. Jake was built for this. It’s what he’s worked for, what he’s bled for. Hockey isn’t just something he loves. It’s his future. And where the hell do you fit into that?

You blink, barely registering that the conversation is still going, that the guys are still talking and laughing and teasing each other, that the warmth of the room hasn’t faded—but suddenly, it feels distant. A dull, steady ache starts in your chest, creeping up your throat, tightening around your ribs. You stare at the flickering candle on the table, at the way the wax pools and hardens, melting and reforming in an endless cycle. They keep talking. And you go quiet.

You don’t even realize how still you’ve gone until Jake nudges your knee with his own. “Hey.” His voice is softer now, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. You look up, meeting his gaze, and there’s a slight furrow between his brows, that subtle shift that tells you he notices. “You okay?” he murmurs, low enough that the others don’t hear. You should say yes. Should push down the thoughts clawing at your chest, the creeping fear that tells you this is a mistake, that you’re deluding yourself into thinking this can work, that you won’t get left behind in the wake of his future.

But your throat is tight. So you just force a smile, nodding once. Jake doesn’t buy it. His gaze lingers, sharp and searching, like he’s trying to figure you out. But before he can press, someone calls his name, dragging him back into the conversation, and you take the out for what it is. You breathe. And the doubt lingers. The room is still alive with conversation, laughter curling at the edges of words, but your mind is somewhere else. Distant. Tangled.

Jake is talking again something about next week’s game, about how they need to tighten their defense but the words barely reach you. They swirl around the room, carried by voices that belong in this world, that fit. And then there’s you. Sitting here, stomach heavy with something that feels like lead, pressing against your ribs, against your lungs. Because how does this work? How do you fit?

You glance at Jake from the corner of your eye. He’s leaning forward now, elbows resting on his knees, brows furrowed as he listens to Heeseung explain something about their last game. He’s so focused. So in his element, like this is exactly where he’s meant to be. And then there’s the baby. And you. Where do you fit in all of this? It was easy, easier when the thought of being pregnant was still something distant, something you were still getting used to. But now it’s real. You’ve seen the ultrasound. Heard the heartbeat. There’s something inside you, someone that’s growing, changing, becoming more real every single day. And Jake..

Jake is here. He’s showing up. He’s bringing you food and taking you to appointments and rubbing the back of his neck in that nervous way every time he catches himself looking at you for too long. But for how long? Because this is just college. This is before the contracts, before the NHL scouts come knocking, before his entire life shifts into something so much bigger than campus arenas and team dinners. You bite your lip, fingers curling into the fabric of your jeans. Jake loves hockey. It’s the one thing he’s never wavered on, the one thing that’s been steady, unwavering, untouchable.

And you, You’re just a detour. A pause in his story. A moment in time that he never planned for. He’s already stretched so thin. His schedule is already brutal. Morning practices, games, travel, training when would he even have time for you? For a baby? For late-night feedings and diaper changes and God, what were you thinking? This isn’t sustainable. This isn’t something that fits neatly into his world.

The realization crashes into you all at once, so heavy you almost feel sick. You need to talk to him. But then Jake laughs beside you, head thrown back, voice warm and unbothered, and when he looks at you, his smile is easy, soft. And for a second, just a second you wonder if maybe you’re wrong. Maybe he’s trying. Maybe he wants this. Maybe…

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice low, meant only for you. “You’re quiet.” You blink, jolted from your thoughts, your heart hammering against your ribs. You force a small smile. “Just tired.” Jake’s eyes linger for a second longer, like he doesn’t quite believe you. But then Jay nudges him, pulling him back into the conversation, and the moment is gone. And you, You’re still stuck wondering.

The night air is crisp when Jake pulls up in front of your dorm, the distant hum of campus life still lingering in the background, laughter from passing students, the occasional roar of a car engine down the street, the muffled bass of music from a party somewhere nearby. But inside the car, it’s just you and him.

The warmth of the heater hums softly, filling the silence that has stretched between you since you left the frat house. Jake’s hands are still wrapped loosely around the steering wheel, but he’s not in any rush to move. His eyes flick to you as you shift in your seat, your fingers curling and uncurling in your lap. “You want me to come in?” His voice is careful. Not forceful, not overbearing gentle. An offer. A quiet attempt to be there, to be with you.

You shake your head almost immediately. “No, it’s okay. I think I just wanna sleep.” The words leave your lips too quickly, too practiced, and you can tell by the way Jake’s brows furrow slightly that he catches it. That he knows you’re lying. He doesn’t call you out on it. He just exhales slowly, watching you for a long moment before nodding once. “Alright.” His fingers tap against the steering wheel, a restless little rhythm, like he wants to say more but doesn’t know how.

You push the car door open before he can change his mind and insist, before he can see through you too much. The cold air bites at your skin as you step out, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. You feel Jake’s gaze on you as you turn back toward the car, gripping the edge of the door. “Thanks for the ride.” Jake gives a small nod, his lips pressing together. “Yeah. Of course.”

You linger. For some reason, you linger. Your fingers tighten around the door, the weight in your chest heavy and pulling.Like there’s something that wants to slip out, some small confession that’s buried too deep for you to name just yet. But then Jake shifts in his seat, glancing toward the windshield, and the moment shatters. You clear your throat, forcing a small smile. “Night, Jake.”

His lips twitch slightly, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “Night.” You shut the door and walk away before the doubt in your head can make you turn back.

Inside your dorm, it’s quiet. Too quiet. The air is still, untouched by Yuna’s usual presence—her music, her laughter, her constant, grounding presence that keeps you from feeling like you’re alone with your thoughts. But tonight, you are alone. You toe off your shoes and drop your bag by the door, shrugging off your jacket and letting it slip from your fingers onto the chair nearby. The room feels colder than usual, or maybe that’s just you.

You sit on the edge of your bed, fingers threading through your hair as you stare at the floor. The doubt is back. That creeping, suffocating feeling that has latched onto you ever since the conversation about hockey at dinner. How does this work? You feel like you’re standing at the edge of something. A reality you’re not prepared for, a future that you don’t know how to step into. Jake is here now. But what about when the season gets more intense? What about when the scouts come, when contracts are on the table, when suddenly he’s got offers from teams that are miles and miles away?

What about when the NHL swallows him whole and you and this baby become nothing more than a footnote in his history? Your fingers tremble slightly as you rest them against your stomach. It’s still flat, still unchanged, but you know you know something is growing, shifting, taking root inside you. And yet, you still don’t know where you fit in Jake’s life. Maybe he’s showing up now. Maybe he’s trying. But what if this, this thing between you was never meant to last? You press your lips together, blinking rapidly against the sting behind your eyes. You’re exhausted, your body heavy with the weight of your thoughts, but sleep won’t come easy tonight. 

It’s been a week. Seven days of silence. Seven days of unanswered texts, of ignored calls, of messages left on read. You knew it wouldn’t last forever, that eventually, Jake would force his way in. That he’d demand answers, refuse to let you keep pushing him away. But still, when the knock comes; sharp and insistent against your dorm door and  your stomach drops.

For a second, you think about pretending you’re not home. But then his voice comes through, firm but edged with something else. Something raw. “Open the door, please.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, fingers curling against the fabric of your hoodie. There’s no running from this. No delaying the inevitable. So you inhale, force your hands to stop shaking, and pull the door open. Jake is standing there, still in his practice gear, sweat dampening the strands of hair curling against his forehead, his hockey duffel slung over one shoulder. He must’ve come straight from the rink, must’ve been thinking about this the entire time because his eyes are already burning with frustration. “What the hell is going on?” he demands.

You cross your arms over your chest, stepping back just enough for him to push past you into the dorm. He does, kicking the door shut behind him, and suddenly the room feels too small. Too full of him. He turns to you, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “You’ve been ignoring me.” You scoff, arms tightening around yourself. “Yeah, well. Maybe that’s because I needed some space.”

Jake shakes his head, running a hand down his face. “Space from what? Me? The baby? This whole situation?” He exhales, something heavy behind it. “You think I don’t notice? You think I don’t know when something’s wrong with you?” You look away, fixing your gaze on the floor. “Jake—”

“No.” His voice cuts through the room, not loud, but firm. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out.” Your throat tightens. “I’m not shutting you out.”

“Then tell me what’s going on,” he says, stepping closer. “Tell me why you suddenly don’t want me around. Why are you acting like I’m already failing at something I haven’t even gotten the chance to do yet.” The words hit you like a blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You don’t mean to let it slip out, but suddenly, it’s there.The fear that’s been clawing at you, the doubt that’s been growing like a weed. “Because I don’t know if you can do it, Jake.” Silence.

His expression shifts, the frustration flickering into something else—hurt. You swallow hard, blinking against the sting in your eyes. “You might think you can handle it, but… this isn’t just a game, Jake. This isn’t a season, or a practice, or something you can walk away from if it gets too hard.” Your voice shakes, but you push forward. “This is a baby. A whole life. And you’re already stretched so thin. Your schedule is insane, your life is already moving in a direction that—” You shake your head, looking away. “What if I’m just setting myself up for disappointment?”

Jake exhales sharply, stepping closer again, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are stormy, filled with something desperate, something pleading. “I don’t know how to convince you,” he says, voice rough. “I don’t know how to make you believe me when I tell you that I want this. That I want to be here.” Your lip trembles, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “You can’t just say it, Jake. You have to prove it.” Jake flinches like the words sting, like they land somewhere deep inside him. He presses his lips together, dragging a hand through his hair. “And how am I supposed to do that if you won’t even let me try?” The words linger between you, thick and heavy, suffocating the space between breaths. You don’t have an answer.

So you just whisper, “I need space.” Jake’s shoulders rise and fall with a slow, controlled breath, like he’s forcing himself to accept it. He nods once, lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine.” But then his voice softens, just barely. “I have an away game this weekend. I’ll be gone until Monday.” His eyes search yours, like he’s looking for something, anything to tell him you’re not slipping too far away. “But I’ll be back. And when I am, we’re talking about this.”

You nod, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Okay.” Jake lingers for a moment, like there’s something else he wants to say. But instead, he just exhales, shoulders still tight with tension as he steps back toward the door. And then he’s gone. And the second the door clicks shut behind him, the weight in your chest pulls you under. 

The dorm is cloaked in darkness, save for the faint blue light spilling from the television screen. The glow flickers across the walls, illuminating the mess of blankets you’ve curled yourself into on the couch. The volume isn’t high, but it doesn’t need to be. The sound of the game filters in clearly, the scrape of skates on ice, the sharp whistles, the distant roar of the crowd.

You’d told yourself you wouldn’t watch. That you’d let the game pass without so much as checking the score. But now you’re here, heart hammering against your ribs, watching him. Jake. The camera zooms in as he weaves through the defense, his body moving like something fluid, something effortless. His hair is damp with sweat beneath his helmet, strands sticking to his forehead as he skates into position. He’s good. He’s so good.

You can see it in the way he moves, in the way the opposing team struggles to keep up. They’re aggressive, irritated because they know they can’t outplay him, so they’ll try to beat him down instead. And that’s exactly what they do. The hits tonight have been brutal. More than usual. It’s a grueling, ruthless game, bodies slamming against the boards with resounding cracks. The referees aren’t calling much, letting things slide, letting them play too rough.

And then, Sunghoon goes down. Your breath stutters as you watch him crash against the ice, his body crumpling on impact. He tries to get up, his gloved hands pressing against the rink, but something is wrong. His leg. You can tell immediately. The way he winces, the way his teammates circle him in concern, the way the trainer rushes onto the ice. The cameras cut in close. His face is tight with pain.

It takes two people to help him off the ice. Your stomach is twisted in knots, your hands clenched into fists. You hate this. You hate watching them get hurt like this. And then, Jake. He’s too fast, moving up the rink, his stick handling the puck with precision. The opposing team is trailing behind him, trying to keep up, trying to stop him.

They can’t. So one of them doesn’t even try. The moment it happens, you feel it, the wrongness. The guy comes in too fast. The check is too high, too hard, too reckless. And Jake never sees it coming. Your breath stops. Jake’s body is airborne before he crashes into the boards with a force that shakes the glass. The sound of it is sickening,a violent collision of bone, plexiglass, ice. His head snaps back. His helmet slams against the wall with a brutal crack. And then he slumps. He doesn’t move.

Your vision blurs. The game fades into the background, the commentators talking too calm, too casual as Jake remains still. His limbs are tangled awkwardly beneath him, his hand curled slightly over his side, his helmet tilted askew. He still hasn’t moved. Oh God. Move, Jake. Your stomach is in your throat, a sharp, rising panic clawing up your chest. Your hands are shaking. Your breath is coming too fast, too shallow, and you feel like you might be sick.

Then, slowly, he stirs. Not much, just a twitch of his fingers, a subtle shift in his shoulders. But it’s enough for the trainer to rush onto the ice, teammates circling him as he tries to push himself up. The camera zooms in, his face is twisted, his brows drawn together in pain.

His hand is gripping his ribs. Your throat tightens. You can see it, he’s hurting. Even as he shakes his head at the trainer, even as he tries to play it off. He’s trying to act fine, trying to prove he can keep going, but you know him. You can see through it. Jake’s not okay. Tears burn at your eyes, and you don’t even try to fight them. You don’t care that you’ve spent the last week avoiding him, don’t care that you’ve been drowning in doubts, don’t care that you still don’t have all the answers. Because none of it matters right now. Jake is hurt. You just want to be with him, you need to be with him. You have to get to him, and fast. 

You barely remember how you got there, your feet pounding the pavement in a haze, the world a blur of motion as you rushed toward the hospital. You’re too frantic to think, too scared to process anything more than the fact that Jake was hurt, hurt in a way you couldn’t ignore, couldn’t pretend didn’t matter. The lights from the hospital sign flicker above you as you stumble through the entrance, the sterile scent of antiseptic and disinfectant hitting you like a wall. Your heart is hammering, the fear sitting heavy in your chest as you make your way to the front desk, breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

"I—I’m looking for Jake Sim," you stutter, your voice shaky, too soft as you try to push past the thick knot of panic that clings to your throat. The receptionist eyes you, takes a moment to type something into her computer. “Room 214,” she says flatly, barely glancing up. “He’s being kept for observation.”

Room 214.

The number echoes in your head as you make your way down the hallway, the fluorescent lights overhead buzzing faintly. You can hear your pulse pounding in your ears, a steady thrum as you walk faster, too fast, the air around you seeming to constrict with every step. You reach the door. For a moment, you just stand there. Your hand is trembling as you push the door open, the sight of Jake in the bed almost too much to bear. His face is pale, too pale, and his eyes are closed, though he’s awake. He’s hooked up to an IV, his forehead glistening with a thin sheen of sweat.

He looks - fragile. Your breath catches in your throat as you step into the room, and it takes everything in you to swallow the rising lump of emotion that threatens to spill out. You’ve seen Jake take hits, seen him get back up from injury after injury. But this feels different. His head turns when he hears the door, his eyes opening slowly, a small smile curling on his lips when he sees you standing there.

“Hey,” he says, his voice rough but warm, like he’s trying to ease the tension in the air. His smile is weak, his usual confidence stripped away by the injury, but it’s still there. It’s still him.

“I’m so sorry, Jake,” you whisper, your throat tight. You move to his side, hovering for a second before reaching out to touch his hand, your fingers trembling against his. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, the solid reassurance you’ve been craving, yet his grip feels fragile in a way you can’t quite shake.

“I didn’t mean to freak out like I did,” you murmur, your voice cracking. “I know you love the baby, and I know you’ll be there for them. I—I know you’ll be a good dad.” He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes softening as he looks at you. There’s a faint wince on his face as he shifts his weight, but the way his lips curl into something resembling a smile makes your heart ache.

“Baby,” he says, his voice low but steady, cutting through the tension that’s been hanging between you for days. “I used to think hockey was the world, that I lived for it, breathed for it. that it was my life. That hockey was the reason I woke up in the morning. I love hockey, hockey will always be my passion and it will always be what I want to do, and who i want to be. But it’s not my life. you are. you two are my life, you and this baby and I wouldn't want it any other way.” 

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, and your breath catches in your throat. You don’t even realize you’ve been holding your breath until the air rushes out in one long, shaky exhale. Jake’s hand reaches up, brushing a few strands of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the pain he’s in. “I’ve been an idiot,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been so focused on everything else, and I didn’t stop to think about what you needed. What we needed.”

Tears sting your eyes, a sudden rush of emotion overwhelming you. You hadn’t known how badly you needed to hear those words until they were out in the open. “Jake—” But he’s not letting you finish. He pulls you closer, gently, not forcefully, as though he’s afraid you might break. And when his lips meet yours, it’s soft, soft in a way that makes the world feel like it’s finally falling into place.

You close your eyes, the weight of everything you’ve been carrying melting away in an instant. His kiss is tentative at first, just the brush of his lips against yours, a delicate reassurance that he’s here. That he’s not going anywhere. But then, as if the words he’s spoken have unlocked something inside both of you, the kiss deepens, slow and aching, full of the longing that’s been building between you for weeks. The warmth of his lips against yours is the grounding force you needed to remind yourself that everything was going to be okay. You were going to be okay. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze full of tenderness, full of something real.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” he murmurs. “I’m staying. I’m gonna be here for you, for the baby… for us.” The words resonate deep inside you, a wave of warmth flooding your chest. You don’t know what the future holds, but in this moment, you believe him. You lean your forehead against his, closing your eyes as the world seems to slow down. The hurt, the uncertainty, all of it seems to fade into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your hearts beating in sync.

“I love you,” you whisper. And this time, it’s not a question. It’s not something you’re trying to convince yourself of. It’s just the truth. He smiles, the familiar glint of something unbreakable in his eyes. “I love you, too.” In that moment, you realize that everything’s been leading to this, a moment of vulnerability, of surrender, of knowing that no matter what comes next, you’ve got each other. And maybe that’s all you really need.

AFTER. 

The baby shower is a blur of light and warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of happy conversations filling the air. The room is decorated with soft blues and yellows, little stuffed animals and pastel balloons drifting lazily overhead. It’s a cozy, intimate gathering. more like a family get-together than a grand celebration, and everything feels perfect. The air smells faintly of sweet pastries and flowers, and there’s an undeniable sense of anticipation hanging in the air, as if everyone is waiting for the moment when you and Jake’s little one will finally arrive.

Yuna is by your side, her bright smile radiating as she hands you a piece of cake, teasing you about cravings you’d been indulging in the past few months. You laugh along with her, feeling lighter than you have in ages. There’s a sense of peace in this room — a fleeting, magical calmness that you don’t want to end. Every now and then, your hand drifts to your swollen belly, gently pressing against the soft curve of it, as if the little life inside is dancing along to the rhythm of the moment.

Jake, ever the protective figure, is right by your side, his hand resting on the small of your back, his gaze never straying too far from you. His face, always so expressive, is filled with an emotion you can’t quite name, something soft, something cherishing. It’s hard to imagine a time when things were uncertain, when you wondered if he could be the father you needed, the partner you dreamed of. Because now, standing here with him, you know the truth. He’s already there. Already doing everything he can to show you he’s in this for the long haul.

“Do you need anything?” Jake asks, his voice low, full of the kind of care that only someone who loves you like he does can muster. You shake your head, the warmth from his touch making your heart swell. It’s moments like these, quiet, simple moments that remind you how far you’ve come from the uncertainty you once felt. How far you’ve both come.

“Just you,” you smile up at him, the words coming out without a second thought, and he grins at you like it’s the best compliment he could ever receive.

The guests are all mingling now, with the occasional burst of laughter ringing out as the game ideas you and Yuna came up with take full effect. Everyone is gathered around, exchanging baby gifts, newborn clothes, soft blankets, bottles, stuffed animals. Your friends and family are here, laughing and celebrating this new chapter of your life. The people you love most are sharing this with you. And even though there’s a bittersweet ache in your chest, because Sunghoon is absent, recovering from that god-awful injury, there’s a deep sense of thankfulness that wraps around you like a warm blanket.

“Hey,” Jake says, breaking you from your thoughts. His voice is so gentle, his hand finding yours in the crowd. “I need to step outside for a minute. I’ll be right back, okay?”

You nod, watching as he slips through the door. You know he’s been feeling the weight of everything lately, the pressure of balancing his career, school, and this new role as a soon-to-be father. You trust him to make it all work, to prove to you that he can handle the responsibilities. But there’s a piece of you, a vulnerable part, that still worries. The doubts always seem to rise like whispers in the back of your mind.

“Win or lose; I want to come home to you,” Jake had said to you not long ago, those words echoing in your memory like a melody. They settle in your heart like a promise, something real, something that matters. The door opens softly, and you look up to see Jake reentering the room, his eyes catching yours immediately. His smile, though small, is genuine, and you feel your breath catch in your chest. The way he looks at you, the way his hand rests against your back once more as he steps closer. it’s as if he’s still trying to wrap his mind around the miracle of everything that’s happening.

“We’re gonna be okay, right?” he asks, his voice full of tenderness, vulnerability slipping in beneath the surface. You nod slowly, your hand resting over your belly as you meet his gaze. “We already are, Jake. I already know we are.” The words settle between you both, and for a brief moment, the noise of the party fades into the background. All that matters is this. this feeling of being connected, being here, in this moment, together. The baby, the future, it’s all a little clearer now.

Jake’s hand slides to your waist, pulling you just a little closer as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. The room seems to hum around you, the laughter and chatter distant, but in this small space between the two of you, the world feels as if it’s standing still. Everything has changed. The uncertainty, the doubts, the fear. it’s all been replaced by the certainty of one truth: You’re in this together. And when you see Jake’s face soften with that same familiar warmth, you know it’s true. He’s here. He’s home. “Win or lose,” he whispers, echoing the words he had said to you weeks ago. “I’ll always come home to you.”

Your heart swells in your chest, the weight of his promise settling deep inside you. And in that moment, you know it’s all going to be okay.

reg taglist. (★) @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar , @notevenheretbh1 , @hwanghyunjinismybae, @ch4c0nnenh4, @kristynaaah

series taglist. (★) @saejinniestar , @vixialuvs , @slut4hee , @xylatox , @skyearby @m1kkso @jakeswifez @heartheejake @hommyy-tommy @yunverie @lalalalawon

@strayy-kidz @wolfhardbby @kwiwin @immelissaaa @fancypeacepersona @starfallia @mariegalea @adoredbyjay @strxwbloody @lovingvoidgoatee @beeboobeebss @zyvlxqht @weyukinluv @flwwon

@guapgoddees @demigodmahash @cloud-lyy @heesky @ikaw-at-ikaw @shuichi-sama @shawnyle @kwhluv @iarainha @ikeuwoniee @mora134340

[samluvikue]

I'm blushing and all shy bye ahahajsjshsjsjshajsjjs

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐓.𝟐

read pt.1 here

plot! ⟡ ݁₊ : after you confessed your insecurities to your boyfriend riki, he makes sure you understand how beautiful you are to him by giving you love.

genre! ⟡ ݁₊ : fluffy affff ; very suggestive ; comforting

warnings! ⟡ ݁₊ : insecure reader ; reader has no specific body structure, any girl can relate! ; desperate riki; skinship ; biting ; mentions of suggestive stuff and more

this is for all my girls who are feeling bad about themselves, here is smth to cheer you up! english is not my first language!!

୨ৎ──୨ৎ──୨ৎ──୨ৎ──୨ৎ──୨ৎ ──୨ৎ

“Alright, let me take care of you.”

Are the last words he whispered before taking matters into his own hands, or should we say his big arms, lifting you up and carrying you in bridal style to his bedroom.

As he makes his way to his room he peppers your face with kisses and nibbles, marking his territory and making you feel loved.

You purr against him like a real cat, probably because of how comfortable and relaxed he makes you feel, until you got dropped onto his bed, and the giant man practically jumped on top of you.

All these soft words and praises made you believe Riki would make love to you at the moment, would moan how much he loves you as he pounds himself into your body but no, the man wants to wrestle with his depressed girlfriend.

“Riki not now..” you whine, clearly dissapointed.

He puts your hands above your head and holds them still with only one hand. Not even a smirk on his face, or something to show he’s just teasing you. The man actually wants to play after you told him you felt uncomfortable in your body.

He leans down to nibble on the skin of your neck, tickling your stomach with his free hands.

You clearly did not have the energy to play fight with him late at night. All you wanted, was to get wrecked and then pampered by him.

“Jesus, Riki how old are you!” you whine once again, this time with an angrier tone.

“Play with me.. You look so sad. Play with me and you’ll be happier yeah?” he says, pouting and sitting his chin in your chest.

You wondered why he was so touchy tonight, like he couldn’t get his hands off of you. To get your answer, you roll over the other side of the bed and get on top of him, thighs next to each side of his torso.

“I told you I felt ugly, why don’t you comfort me? Why do you keep being a clingy bitch, and why don’t you make love to me?!” you let out, irritated.

“Jeez, when I said you’re horny I was not thinking desperate horny.” he chuckles.

“Oh my, you literally piss me off.”

You couldn’t find anything else to say, so you tried to get off him and leave the room. Instead, he held your leg back, hard.

You felt that grip, it was different, like you actually couldn’t go. Was he really getting that strong?

He doesn’t really let you think for any longer as he pulls you back onto him, his arms locking you up around your waist, looking down at you with this stupid face that say: “you’re weak”.

“You’re a bad boyfriend.” you slip out, trying to make him upset too, but it only leads him to switch places and get back on top of you.

You try to get off but he won’t let go, it’s like you barely got any strength in your body, like you’re completely stuck, which makes Riki scoff.

“Stop squirming, you’re not getting away.” he says, tilting his head to look at you struggling.

“Please..” you whimper, trying really hard to get off his grip, but you can’t move. That’s when you actually realize how strong your boyfriend is, how he could do whatever he wants with you with no effort.

Damn, that feels odd, and not in a good way.

Seeing your gaze filling up with worry, Riki leans down closer to your ear.

“Impressive? I’ve worked really hard for you.. my baby..” he whispers.

He gently loosens his grip, still holding you close, before nuzzling his face in your neck, biting and kissing it. You already know how hard it’s going to be to get rid of his hickeys.

“I work so hard for my beautiful woman… Yet she feels unworthy huh?” he says, his lips going down to your chest.

There he is, your Riki.

For a minute you felt worried, and intimidated by his strength, but you know can’t be scared of him. He loves you too much he’d never hurt you, never take advantage of you, he’s just obsessed.

You sigh, feeling relieved. Got so caught up in your thoughts you didn’t notice Riki going down to your thighs, kissing, licking and biting them like a starved man. It’s like he needs you, like he craves you.

“I love you so fucking much..” he whispers between bites. “How could you not love yourself..”

His voice is so desperate, like he’s thankful, grateful to even have you laid down in front of him. You can’t help but blush, feeling so loved and worshipped.

He looks up at you and comes back to your face, cupping it with his hands.

“What’s wrong ma.. Say something, anything.”

You just stare at his needy eyes, and the details of his face. He’s frowning, blushing and breathing hard. God, is it possible for one to love so much? You’ve never had any guy being so affectionate to you, so seeing Riki being so touchy felt.. good. It felt so good.

“I love you.” you say.

He smiles and presses his lips onto yours, to not say he’s actually sucking your lips and eating them up. The boy is so hungry for you it makes your head spin.

You really did not want to ruin the moment, but inside, you felt like crying.

Not of sadness, but of relief. It just felt so comforting to know a person that saw worth in you, that protected you and cherished you, no matter how you looked.

That’s why he wanted to play, he searched for something to distract your mind from your insecurities (and probably also to show off how big he got).

“Take this off pretty..” he sighs as he tugs on your top, ending up removing it by himself, too impatient. Seeing you obviously have no bra, he jumps head first in your breasts, giving them the same service the rest of your body got.

You could feel your body heating up, sweating and breathing heavily. Your hands grab his short hair and pull them softly.

Riki groans, like a starved animal.

“Y/N.” he moans softly before taking off his shirt that felt heavy, and was sticking onto his skin. His defined abs and pecs clench as he feels your needy stare on him. “You’re so fucking pretty..”

Gently, you drag your fingers on his sensitive skin, in a slow pace that’s torturing him. From the center of his collar bones, down to his belly button, to the growing happy trail he shaved a week ago, and his v line.

Your index finger clutches his waistband and pulls him in, making his jaw clench. He loves to see you trying to take the control, when you both know Riki is the strongest one.

He doesn’t mind though, he’d let his favorite girl in the world do anything to him.

The man leans in once again to kiss you and cherish your lips like a God sent gift, which then leads on a long night full of love and affection.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

You couldn’t feel your legs anymore, nor your arms, your lips and even your mind. Everything was blurred, and you couldn’t utter a single word.

It felt so good, so good forgetting about everything, even your own name. All the problems temporary left behind, leaving you with just a physical and emotional pleasuring feeling.

If you were conscious you’d notice Riki was massaging your back with a towel to clean you up and make you feel good at the same time.

You just start recollecting your thoughts when he turns you onto your back so you can face him.

“I’m sorry I went in so harsh ma.” kiss, “You just felt too good..” another kiss.

He lays down beside you and pulls you back onto him, spooning you.

“How you’re feeling?” the man asks, face stuck onto his neck to look down at you, giving him a little double chin.

You giggle, at least you try to. You’re so exhausted you can barely do anything.

“I feel incredible.” you mumble.

“Good. I need you to promise me something.”

Tilting your face up, then to the side, you pout your lips. “Yeah? What?”

He sighs. “Promise me you’ll never tell yourself this bullshit again. Don’t you dare neglect something as precious as your body again.”

Despite his speech being pretty touching, you’re too fucked up to understand a single word. He sighs once again and speaks up. “Your pretty face, your pretty arms, pretty tits, pretty tummy, pretty ass legs and feet.. You’re pretty. Okay?”

You nod, but that doesn’t satisfy Riki enough, he needs to be sure you realize how beautiful you are to him, and to yourself.

“Say it, you’re pretty.”

Cheeks reddening and smile showing, you can’t help but hide yourself in his chest and mumble.

“I’m pretty.”

He looks down at you with awe and joy, like the most precious thing in the world. He presses a kiss on your forehead and turns off the night lamp right next to him.

“The prettiest..” he whispers.

hope you guys like it, please reblog like and comment! don’t forget you’re beautiful!! 💕

[samluvikue]

I don't want to seem like I'm overreacting, but this is the best thing I've read in a while. I can feel their emotions from my bed wtf...I seriously want what they have.

It’s Yours (SJY)

PAIRING ➤ friend!jake x afab!reader

GENRE ➤ friends with benefits, fluff, smut

WARNINGS ➤ both are tipsy but conscious, reader wants to kiss jake, just kissing, neck kissing, everything is consensual, proofread but i'm sorry if there's mistakes! (Imk if i missed something pls!!)

WORD COUNT ➤ 2.8k

MASTERLIST

The whole thing started out as a joke.

Jake had been your close friend for years, and your relationship was the type where you both teased each other mercilessly. He would pull pranks, make sarcastic remarks, and flirt just enough to keep you on your toes, but never too much to make it serious. But he was still the one to be always by your side, whenever you need him, whenever you feel stressed or just here to spend some with you. But the teasing part was all part of the game, a comfortable balance. That was before the night of your mutual friend’s birthday party.

The party had been wild from the start. Your friend’s place was packed with people, music was pulsing through the walls, and laughter was spilling out of every corner of the room. Jake, always the life of the party, had been glued to your side, nudging you every time he saw someone doing something ridiculous. It was easy to forget the chaos around you when he was near; he had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room.

For a moment, you had drifted away from the group to join a few friends on the dance floor, swaying to the beat, the warmth of the crowd creating this buzz that made you feel carefree and alive. You could see Jake nearby, chatting with some of their friends, but every now and then, you’d catch him glancing in your direction, a little smirk on his face as if to say, “I see you.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but inside, your heart did that familiar flutter whenever he looked your way.

At some point, you felt someone move in closer beside you, a guy you didn’t recognize, leaning in a little too close. He grinned, clearly trying to strike up a conversation, his voice cutting through the music.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see someone as cute as you here. Want a drink?” he asked, his eyes lingering a bit too long.

You gave him a polite smile but stepped back, crossing your arms a bit defensively. “Thanks, but I’m good,” you said, trying to keep it light but not encouraging him either.

The guy didn’t seem to get the hint. He stepped closer again, attempting to make more small talk, his body language clearly too eager. Just as you were about to find an excuse to leave, you felt someone else slide up beside you, the familiar warmth and scent of Jake instantly easing your tension.

Jake grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him, a relaxed smile on his face, but you could feel the hint of protectiveness radiating from him. “Hey, babe, everything okay here?” he asked, looking at the guy with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The stranger took a step back, noticing Jake’s presence. “Oh, sorry, man. Didn’t realize…”

Jake just gave a small nod, his hand staying firmly on your shoulder. “No worries,” he said, his tone polite but firm. The guy took the hint this time and drifted off into the crowd, leaving you and Jake alone.

You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow with a small, amused smile. “Babe, you said?”

Jake shrugged, grinning. “Worked, didn’t it?”

You laughed, relaxing as he dropped his arm but stayed close. “Were you… jealous?”

He raised his hands in mock defense. “Me? Jealous? Please.” He paused, giving you a look that softened his teasing smile. “But you looked uncomfortable. I wasn’t about to let that slide.”

Your heart did a flip at the way he said it, but you kept your tone light. “Well, thank you, my hero.”

“Anytime, princess,” he replied with a wink. Then he leaned in, his voice dropping. “Besides, no one else gets to bother you when I’m around.”

You could only roll your eyes, playfully shoving him before heading toward the couch area to take a breather. Moments later, Jake followed, joining you on the couch outside.

The party was alive inside, but here, outside in the backyard, it felt like a different world. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, the night air cool against your skin as you and Jake sat together on a cozy outdoor couch, hidden in the shadows. Above, the stars scattered across the sky like tiny lights, and in front of you, the pool’s still surface reflected the soft glow from the patio lights, casting a faint, shimmering light over the two of you.

You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your shoulder. It felt intimate, natural, and the noise from the party inside was a soft hum, distant and easily ignored. Every now and then, Jake’s fingers would brush against your skin, sending a little shiver through you, the casual touch somehow more intense out here in the quiet night.

“You good?” he murmured, his voice soft, just for you. You could feel his breath against your cheek, close enough to make your heart skip. When you looked up, he was watching you with that familiar playful glint, but there was something gentler in his eyes tonight, like he was seeing a part of you he hadn’t before.

You nodded, though your heart was racing in a way that felt far from tired. “Yeah, just… I don’t know. Tired, maybe,” you replied, even though the warmth pooling in your chest said otherwise. The truth was, being this close to him felt intoxicating, even more so than the drinks you’d had.

“Tired?” he echoed, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t look tired. You look like you’re thinking about something.” His voice was teasing, but the curiosity in his eyes made you feel like he could see right through you.

You hesitated, feeling your cheeks heat up as you glanced away, but after a moment, you decided to just say it. Maybe it was the way he was looking at you or maybe it was the way the starlight reflected in his eyes, but you leaned in a little closer, just enough that your shoulder pressed into his.

“I don’t think you want to know what I’m thinking,” you whispered, a little nervously, trying to play it off as a joke. But Jake’s expression didn’t change; he just tilted his head, his gaze steady on yours.

“Oh, now you have to tell me,” he said, his voice low and almost challenging. “I’m curious.”

The words were right on the tip of your tongue, and before you could second-guess yourself, they slipped out. “Sometimes…” you hesitated, feeling your pulse quicken, “…sometimes I think about what it’d be like to kiss you. Like, just for fun.”

For a brief moment, the world seemed to stop. Jake blinked, clearly surprised, and you could feel him shift beside you, his hand falling to rest gently on your arm.

“Are you, uh… sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice a little softer now, almost careful. “I mean, maybe you’re a little… you know, tipsy?”

You bit your lip, feeling the warmth of his touch. “Maybe a little,” you admitted, glancing away, then back at him. “But that’s not what this is about, Jake. It’s something I think about. And… it’s not the first time.”

That admission seemed to catch him off guard. He studied you for a second, his expression somewhere between amused and contemplative. “Not the first time, huh?” he said, his voice soft, barely audible over the quiet sounds of the backyard. His hand tightened slightly on your arm, his thumb grazing back and forth in a soothing, almost hesitant motion.

“No,” you replied, finding your voice. “I think about it a lot, actually.”

Jake took a slow breath, his eyes searching yours, and you could feel the subtle shift in the air between you, something both of you had ignored for too long. His gaze softened as he leaned in just a little closer, his lips a whisper away from yours, his voice gentle.

“You do?” he asked, barely above a whisper, a mixture of playfulness and vulnerability in his eyes. You nod as a response and you asked him too, “do- do you?” He looked at you with a smile, and nodded. “You really want to do this?”

You could barely find your voice, your heart racing so fast it was hard to think. “I‘ve always wanted this,” you whispered back, feeling like your words were barely more than a breath.

Jake looked at you for a moment longer, making sure, and then he closed the distance, his lips meeting yours softly, almost tentatively. But the lightness didn’t last long. You leaned into him, your hand instinctively reaching up to touch the side of his face, anchoring yourself to him as he deepened the kiss, his other hand moving to rest on your waist, pulling you on his lap.

The kiss quickly grew more intense, each of you pushing a little further, exploring a closeness that had been waiting to happen. His hand tangled in your hair as he leaned in, pulling you against him as his mouth moved over yours with a passion you hadn’t expected, each kiss deep and lingering, like he’d been holding himself back for too long. The quiet backyard and the star-filled sky felt like they belonged to just the two of you, as if time had slowed just for this moment.

You felt his fingers tighten at your waist, pulling you closer, and you responded by wrapping your arms around his neck, your body pressing into his. His lips moved over yours again, slower but just as intense, like he was savoring every second. 

Jake’s fingers trailed down to your waist, his hand resting there, thumb tracing light circles that sent a soft shiver down your spine. The warmth of his lips left yours, only for him to press them gently to your neck, lingering there for a moment before planting a few more, each one sending a spark of warmth through you. His other hand settled on the small of your back, pulling you just a bit closer, his touch somehow both comforting and electric.

Your breath caught, and a soft laugh escaped you as you leaned into him. “This is… different,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heart was still racing.

Jake lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a half-smile, half-spark of mischief. “Good different?” he asked, voice low, his fingers still moving slowly, almost lazily, over your hip, like he had all the time in the world to be close to you like this.

“Yeah,” you whispered, barely able to get the word out as his thumb brushed the edge of your shirt, grazing your skin. “Definitely a good different.”

He chuckled softly, his hand slipping up your back, fingers splaying against you, anchoring you to him as he kept you close.

Jake’s hand traced down your arm, fingers brushing against your skin as he looked at you, his gaze lingering like he was seeing you in a new light. A gentle smile curved his lips, and he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing your cheek.

“You know…” he started, his voice soft as he looked you over, his eyes warm and admiring, “you look really pretty in that dress.” His fingers lingered at your hip, the fabric of your dress gathered beneath his hand. “I wanted to you this since when i picked you home,” he added, almost shyly, but his gaze was steady.

A little rush of warmth spread through you, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling your cheeks flush under his attention. “Yeah?” you murmured, glancing down, but he tilted your chin up, making you meet his eyes again.

“Yeah,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “I mean, I always find you pretty, but tonight… I don’t know. Just couldn’t look away.”

The words were simple, but coming from him, they felt like a secret confession. You felt yourself leaning into his touch, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His thumb traced soft circles on your hip, pulling you a little closer as he held your gaze, his eyes dancing with something playful, but a little deeper, too.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you teased, unable to resist. But your voice softened as you continued, “I mean it, though. It’s… nice. Being like this with you.”

Jake chuckled, his hand slipping around to the small of your back, keeping you close. “I’d say we’re pretty good at this,” he replied, his tone light but his fingers tightening slightly on your waist. He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck, the warmth of his lips sending a shiver down your spine. “And, you know,” he murmured, his voice low, “we can still be us, just… with a little more.”

You nodded, feeling a thrill at the way he said it. “Friends, but…” you hesitated, a smile tugging at your lips, “with some added benefits?”

Jake grinned, his hand brushing over your back as he pulled you in, his forehead touching yours. “Exactly. Friends with a little more,” he echoed, his voice soft, almost reverent. Then his hand shifted, slipping down to rest at your hip again, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in another deep, slow kiss, his lips moving against yours with a kind of ease and familiarity that felt so right.

As Jake pulled back from the kiss, he kept you close, his fingers tracing a line down your arm until they reached your hand, which had absentmindedly found its way to the silver chain resting against his chest. You let your fingers linger there, playing with the cool metal, feeling its weight, its familiarity, and how it suited him perfectly. It was a part of him, something he always wore, something you’d grown to associate with him.

Jake noticed your focus on his necklace, a small smile forming on his lips as he glanced down. “You like it?” he asked, his tone light, but there was a softness in his eyes, a curiosity that made your heart skip.

You nodded, fingers still fiddling with the chain. “Yeah, I do,” you admitted, your voice soft. “I’ve always liked when you wear it. Feels like… you.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you with that familiar, thoughtful gaze that always made you feel like he saw right through you. Then, with a quiet determination, he reached behind his neck, unclasping the necklace and letting the silver chain slip from his neck.

You blinked, suddenly realizing what he was doing. “Jake… you don’t have to,” you whispered, feeling an unexpected rush of emotion. “I want you to keep it. It’s yours.”

He gave a small shake of his head, a gentle, reassuring smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you, the necklace dangling from his fingers. “Maybe,” he murmured, “but I think it’d look pretty good on you.”

Before you could protest again, he reached up, carefully draping the cool chain around your neck, his fingers brushing against your skin as he clasped it at the back. The necklace settled against you, a small, constant reminder of him, the metal warming quickly to your skin.

“There,” he said, his hand lingering for a moment before his fingers dropped back to your shoulder. “Looks perfect.”

You glanced down, your fingers tracing over the silver chain that now rested against your collarbone, feeling a strange mix of excitement and something deeper—like he’d given you a part of himself in a way words couldn’t express. You looked back up at him, a soft smile on your lips. “I… I love it,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper, a hint of wonder in it.

He smiled, pulling you close again, his forehead resting against yours as he wrapped his arms around you. “Good,” he whispered, his voice low, intimate. “Now, you’ve got a little piece of me with you.”

In the quiet of the night, under the stars, you felt that unspoken connection settle between you—something deeper than friendship, more than just words or looks. Something that was just you and Jake, a secret that only the two of you understood. And with his necklace resting over your heart, you knew this moment, and whatever this was between you, would be one you’d never forget.

© yvnempire 2024, do not copy, steal, remake or brand my content as yours.

[samluvikue]

I'm in love btw 🥺🤍

ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴇ

⟢ L.HS x Reader

⟢  Summary:

⟢ You were always desperate for Jakes attention and always whined to your best friend who was the only one who could stand your antics, until one day he didn’t.

⟢  Warnings:  none.

⟢  Genre: One Sided Pinning, Childhood Best friends to Lovers, fluff.

Made For ; @samluvikue (i litr tagged the wrong person😦😭)

btw the girl Jake loves here is me sorry didn’t know who else to put😦😭 sorry sorry

It was a sunny day and the wind felt light on your face, it was one of the days you felt actually pretty. Today was Jake’s birthday, and you dolled yourself up with a white dress the reached just below the knees.

You called Heesung over for his opinion but he was just quiet the whole time. Sometimes you think he isn’t even listening .

“Hee? Are you listening?” Your voice snapping him out of his fantasy world, he looked dazed like a deer in front of headlights.

“Uh- yeah.. I am. Nice dress. — didn’t I buy that for you?” He asked smiling, he looked at exited, in contrast with his face before.

“Yeah! You noticed! Good, do you think Jake will like it?” You looked at him but his exited smile left his face, his eyes fixed onto your dress then slowly to his hands sitting on his lap.

“You’re always pretty,” he mumbled not too high not too low.

“You should know that, you don’t need to do all this if you liked me..” then his eyes snapped back to you, in a panic he tried to cover up but you already caught him fumbling into a spiral.

You tried to ignore it and he thought you let go, but it’s the only thing running through your mind. But you were determined, you loved Jake. 

You arrived just in time and Jake greets you with a hug and Heesung a handshake, “I’m so glad you guys made it!! You guys are pretty early, wanna go hang out with the rest for a while?” He asked pointing towards Jay and Jungwon’s direction.

You agreed and sat down at the sofa with Jay and stared as Jake and Heesung chatted away in the kitchen, you didn’t know who to look at.

That was until someone came knocking at the door, Jake checked his phone first then got excited, that was the widest he smiled. You’ve never seen a man so happy before.

When the door opened a girl appeared, her short hair just above the shoulders, black with light brown highlights, she looked intense. But — she was pretty.

She stood with her slim figure but thick in the right places, she radiates confidence she was confidence herself. 

Her aura was angelic and her features were the perfect mix of soft and sharp.

Jake immediately hugged her tightly tapping her back, “Glad you could make it Maevis.”

He smiled so widely you thought his face was gonna become stuck.

Your stomach felt tight, your head became light and span and you felt nauseous. You ran to the bathroom but everyone was so focused on Maevis, and seemed to forget about you.

You sat on the cold bathroom tiles staring at the ceiling. Until you heard knocking on the door, against all the mumbles surrounding a girl you started to envy rang out. “YN, are you okay?” 

It was Heesung.

Of course it was Heesung, it was always Heesung. It will always be Heesung, no one cared as much as Heesung. Ever since you were kids.

When you scraped your knee on purpose so Jake would come running, but who came was Heesung who stopped the soccer game that Jake wanted to finish to treat you and put his favorite band aid on you.

When you cried about a test wishing Jake would come help, Heesung bought you snacks and became your tutor.

When you graduated college, hoping Jake would at least show face — it was Heesung.

Always, through all the seasons, all the years, the eras the times. Heesung was always there.

You thought for a while about it until you heard his voice ring out again — “YN, are you okay? Please? I just wanna know..” his voice laced with worry. 

Sometimes you don’t know if you love Jake because he’s kind even if he doesn’t really show up or because you liked his best friend, Heesung.

“I’m okay.” You finally answered.

You came out, still dizzy.

“C’mere. Let’s go, you don’t have to be here..” he places his jacket on your shoulders with softness and care. Knowing damn well the reason you felt like this was because of Jake.

You stopped in your tracks on the way to the door and glanced at Jake to see if he would stop you.

But he was to in love to even notice you ran to the bathroom in the first place. You left with Heesung. And as he drove the car, the iconic car that he always uses to drive you to places and spontaneous road trips.

“Thank you..for everything.” You mumbled during the red light. He hit your arm gently, “don’t say stuff like that, you make it sound like you’re gonna kill yourself.”

He laughed until he didn’t, he looked at your serious face.

“Maybe I didn’t like Jake at all.” Heesung’s head snapped at you. He turned his head so fast you thought he might break it.

“I think..I liked you all along” you muttered.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was like a warm blanket and something unknown finally stepping into the light.

“Phew..I thought you were gonna say you liked Jay.” He joked, making the tears on your face dry.

From then on — maybe it was a new journey. Sometimes you gotta look around close before looking far.

Bible Verse;

“do' not stir or awaken love until it pleases.”  Song Of Solomon 3:5 and 8:4

[samluvikue]

I'M SOBBING ಥ⁠_⁠ಥ I NEED HIM IN MY LIFE FR

ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴇ

⟢ L.HS x Reader

⟢  Summary:

⟢ You were always desperate for Jakes attention and always whined to your best friend who was the only one who could stand your antics, until one day he didn’t.

⟢  Warnings:  none.

⟢  Genre: One Sided Pinning, Childhood Best friends to Lovers, fluff.

Made For ; @jaeyunluvbot

btw the girl Jake loves here is me sorry didn’t know who else to put😦😭 sorry sorry

It was a sunny day and the wind felt light on your face, it was one of the days you felt actually pretty. Today was Jake’s birthday, and you dolled yourself up with a white dress the reached just below the knees.

You called Heesung over for his opinion but he was just quiet the whole time. Sometimes you think he isn’t even listening .

“Hee? Are you listening?” Your voice snapping him out of his fantasy world, he looked dazed like a deer in front of headlights.

“Uh- yeah.. I am. Nice dress. — didn’t I buy that for you?” He asked smiling, he looked at exited, in contrast with his face before.

“Yeah! You noticed! Good, do you think Jake will like it?” You looked at him but his exited smile left his face, his eyes fixed onto your dress then slowly to his hands sitting on his lap.

“You’re always pretty,” he mumbled not too high not too low.

“You should know that, you don’t need to do all this if you liked me..” then his eyes snapped back to you, in a panic he tried to cover up but you already caught him fumbling into a spiral.

You tried to ignore it and he thought you let go, but it’s the only thing running through your mind. But you were determined, you loved Jake. 

You arrived just in time and Jake greets you with a hug and Heesung a handshake, “I’m so glad you guys made it!! You guys are pretty early, wanna go hang out with the rest for a while?” He asked pointing towards Jay and Jungwon’s direction.

You agreed and sat down at the sofa with Jay and stared as Jake and Heesung chatted away in the kitchen, you didn’t know who to look at.

That was until someone came knocking at the door, Jake checked his phone first then got excited, that was the widest he smiled. You’ve never seen a man so happy before.

When the door opened a girl appeared, her short hair just above the shoulders, black with light brown highlights, she looked intense. But — she was pretty.

She stood with her slim figure but thick in the right places, she radiates confidence she was confidence herself. 

Her aura was angelic and her features were the perfect mix of soft and sharp.

Jake immediately hugged her tightly tapping her back, “Glad you could make it Maevis.”

He smiled so widely you thought his face was gonna become stuck.

Your stomach felt tight, your head became light and span and you felt nauseous. You ran to the bathroom but everyone was so focused on Maevis, and seemed to forget about you.

You sat on the cold bathroom tiles staring at the ceiling. Until you heard knocking on the door, against all the mumbles surrounding a girl you started to envy rang out. “YN, are you okay?” 

It was Heesung.

Of course it was Heesung, it was always Heesung. It will always be Heesung, no one cared as much as Heesung. Ever since you were kids.

When you scraped your knee on purpose so Jake would come running, but who came was Heesung who stopped the soccer game that Jake wanted to finish to treat you and put his favorite band aid on you.

When you cried about a test wishing Jake would come help, Heesung bought you snacks and became your tutor.

When you graduated college, hoping Jake would at least show face — it was Heesung.

Always, through all the seasons, all the years, the eras the times. Heesung was always there.

You thought for a while about it until you heard his voice ring out again — “YN, are you okay? Please? I just wanna know..” his voice laced with worry. 

Sometimes you don’t know if you love Jake because he’s kind even if he doesn’t really show up or because you liked his best friend, Heesung.

“I’m okay.” You finally answered.

You came out, still dizzy.

“C’mere. Let’s go, you don’t have to be here..” he places his jacket on your shoulders with softness and care. Knowing damn well the reason you felt like this was because of Jake.

You stopped in your tracks on the way to the door and glanced at Jake to see if he would stop you.

But he was to in love to even notice you ran to the bathroom in the first place. You left with Heesung. And as he drove the car, the iconic car that he always uses to drive you to places and spontaneous road trips.

“Thank you..for everything.” You mumbled during the red light. He hit your arm gently, “don’t say stuff like that, you make it sound like you’re gonna kill yourself.”

He laughed until he didn’t, he looked at your serious face.

“Maybe I didn’t like Jake at all.” Heesung’s head snapped at you. He turned his head so fast you thought he might break it.

“I think..I liked you all along” you muttered.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was like a warm blanket and something unknown finally stepping into the light.

“Phew..I thought you were gonna say you liked Jay.” He joked, making the tears on your face dry.

From then on — maybe it was a new journey. Sometimes you gotta look around close before looking far.

Bible Verse;

“do' not stir or awaken love until it pleases.”  Song Of Solomon 3:5 and 8:4

[samluvikue]

I'm on my knees, please yes

NEW SERIES IDEAAA SO HEAR ME OUT I NEED YOU OPINION..SO WHAT IF YK HOW ENHYPEN ON THE PHOTOS FOR THE DESIRE UNLEASH ALBUM THEY ALL ARE TIED UP AND WOTH MASKS..WHAT IF I MAKE POLICEMAN READER WITH PRISONER ENHYPEN..? thoughts!

[samluvikue]

I.... Please just... don't look at me like this... Omfg

[samluvikue]

YES QUEEN ILY 🫡 ( I hope you post it today🧎🏻‍♀️)

I really want someone to write something like this: You’re totally crushing on Jake, but he’s into someone else. Meanwhile, heeseung, your best friend? is actually in love with you and is trying to make you forget about Jake and fall in love with him instead.

PPPLEEEASSSEEE

[samluvikue]

A new idea because I'm about to lose my mind.

I want someone to write something like

Jake is super mad and really angry because his babygirl didn't listen to him and didn't stay by his side at the party.

On the way back home, he didn't say a word and headed straight to the room to grab a rope.

"Jake, please don't" you said nervously.

"it's time to tie you up baby girl . Just be calm and listen to Daddy"