straykeedz-recs

[straykeedz-recs]

Cradle Robbers: The First Trimester | JJK

Summary: Jungkook makes a proposition you can't don't want to refuse, and there are seemingly no consequences to your friendship at first, but then you miss you period and have to explain to all your loved ones how you got knocked up by your childhood best friend.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Pregnancy AU, Childhood Friends to FWB to Lovers, Slow-Burn, Smut, Fluff, Crack, Angst (barely, you have to squint to see it)

Word Count: 26k+

Warnings: unexpected pregnancy, fear, anxiety, crying, screaming, arguing, vomiting, cravings, drinking (not OC), mention of withdrawal, doctor's offices, ultrasounds, pregnancy tests, mentions of a break-up, pet names (bambi/bams, babygirl, baby), cats, dogs, wealth, sex in a movie, tickling, karaoke, medication, talk of childbirth, periods, birth control failure, video games, parental expectations. SMUT: kissing, unprotected sex (obviously), neck kissing, penetrative sex, missionary, dick riding, sideways/from behind, oral sex (both receiving), face riding, face fucking, cum swallowing, multiple orgasms, BIG DICK JK!!!, spanking, cream pie, titty sucking, pleasuring with underwear, ripping underwear, implication of sexual favors, hickies, soreness, aftercare, masturbation (f), cuddling, cock warming, alright I think that's all folks!

Author's Note: it's finally hereeee. this is the first of three parts for my new series and i'm so, so excited to share it with you guys! koo and bambi have my whole heart along with all their friends and family we meet. I know pregnancy fics aren't always the most loved, but I assure you this Jungkook is so worth it... he's tooth-rottingly sweet and soooo sexy! also, I linked the video of the boys performance bc it's too freaking good not to watch, so look out for that (and also ignore yoongi not actually being there lmao). please let me know what you guys think and/or any predications you have for the next chapter, the baby's name and/or gender, etc. I LOVE hearing what you guys have to say! OK ily bye :)

ZERO

The sound of some garbage eating rodent is the first thing you hear after kicking your apartment door open with the tip of your boot. Muscle memory brings your hand to the light switch, but you aren’t able to flip it up because the lights are already on. So, the rodent is big enough to reach that height… wonderful. 

You toe your boots off and hang your coat up, tossing your keys in the old stolen ashtray you use to house them. When you round the corner, the familiar, lovable vermin is bent over as he rummages through your fridge. 

It’s ridiculous, honestly, given that this particular species of rat earns quadruple your salary. 

“Koo,” you get his attention. 

“Hm?”

He doesn’t budge an inch when responding to the call of his nickname. Eyes rolling back, you stroll over and smack his ass as hard as you can.

“Yo!” Jungkook jerks up and just barely misses hitting his head on the refrigerator. “Take me to dinner first.”

“I am,” you reply. “You’re eating my food.”

Jungkook smiles innocently and squishes your cheeks with his fingers before shaking your head back and forth. 

“And I’m so, so grateful,” he teases in a baby voice. 

You swat his hand away, but the light in your eyes and the remnants of a smile on your face reveal your true feelings about his teasing.

This predicament is one of your own creation, since you gave Jungkook a key a while ago in case of emergencies. The issue is, an emergency for Jungkook can be your place being closer to the gym than his, and he needs a snack after his workout. In your mind, the purpose was so he can bring you chocolate ice cream on your period and take down intruders. He’s only done one of those things so far, and the intruder was a stray cat.

Falling to your couch with a soft thump, you groan and tilt your head back against the cushions. Today was egregiously long and definitely not worth the money it made you. The only upside is it’s Friday and you have two whole days to lounge around your apartment and do nothing at all. 

Jungkook comes around the peninsula which separates your kitchen from your living room with a fresh bowl of instant ramen in his hands. He blows on the noodles for a second before slurping them into his mouth, all without noticing the glare you’re sending his way. His eyes crinkle when he sees you, letting you know he’s smiling, even though you can’t see his mouth behind the bowl. 

“What’s with the face, Bambi?” 

“You seriously didn’t think of making one for me?” You ask through a pout.

You finally see Jungkook’s smile when he lowers the bowl to place it on the peninsula. He looks proud, his head tilting as he chuckles to himself. 

Then, you hear the microwave go off, and your glare quickly turns into a grin. 

Jungkook grabs the second bowl from the microwave and sets it on the counter. You watch appreciatively as he rips open the sauce packet before putting it between his teeth and using his chopsticks to pour it all into the bowl. The crinkle of a cheese wrapper opening brings your eyebrows up your forehead in delight. He drops the orange square into the bowl and mixes everything together with the chopsticks before holding it out towards you. 

“You gonna take that shit back now or what?”

You beam and giggle as you stand, practically skipping across the room so you can take the bowl of delicious noodles from him.

“Thank you,” you sing-song.

“Mmhmm.”

The two of you eat on your couch in a slurp filled ambiance. It’s an old, familiar scene and one you always appreciate even if you don’t say it outloud. 

They say you choose your friends, but Jungkook was pretty much forced on you. Your mothers are college roommates who became best friends and later married another pair of best friends. The women proceeded to plot and plan accordingly so they would be pregnant together and their kids would be the same age. Unfortunately, your parents went off script by about six months, but you and Jungkook are still close enough in age to be in the same grade throughout school. 

Even though your friendship was intricately planned long before your conception, you’re close of your own volition. 

Jungkook is not only your best friend, but the most amazing person you know and probably in existence. You wouldn’t trade him for the world if it came down to it. In fact, if the zombie apocalypse ever happens, and somehow his death is the only way to find a cure, you will Joel Miller-style kill every single person who dares to try and take him from you. They can rip your dorky, caring, smart-ass best friend from your cold, dead hands. Everyone else can become zombies for all you care, everyone but him.

The sound of a bowl meeting the coffee table pulls your attention back to the man beside you. He kicks his feet up and stretches his arms above his head in relaxation. When the action reveals a sliver of skin from below the hem of his shirt, you use the opportunity to tickle him and laugh when he groans and folds into himself.

“Is this really the game you wanna play, Bams?” He speaks to the floor, still hunching over from your attack.

Bambi, or Bams for short, is the only name Jungkook calls you. Sometimes, you jokingly accuse him of forgetting your real name altogether, which then spurs him on to attempt “guessing” what it is. Ironically, neither of you nor your parents can recall the origin of the nickname. Like some strange Mandela effect, one day he started calling you by the Disney character’s name and never stopped. 

If memory serves correctly, you think the last time you heard the syllables of your name leave his mouth was in fifth grade when he defended you against a clique of mean girls. Something along the lines of “leave my Y/N alone,” in his adorable kiddie Jungkook voice.

He’s certainly gone through some drastic changes since then. His voice now filters out in a deep, honey tone, he doesn’t use his bangs to conceal his starry eyes anymore, and he’s got you beat by a few inches in height. You’re different, too, mostly in the way you no longer need him to defend you on the playground. He still would, though, and he often tries on nights out when someone tries testing your patience. 

Jungkook would never hurt a fly, but he’s got an entire sleeve of tattoos, multiple piercings, and broad shoulders, so he uses his outward appearance to his advantage and scares people away when necessary.

You don’t respond to his taunt, instead you slowly slide across the fabric of the couch, as quietly as you can so he doesn’t pick up on the movement. He, of course, notices right away, and a cheshire grin appears before your eyes.

Standing up like lightning, you make a break for your bedroom, but you only reach the back of the couch before his arms are clinching you by the waist. 

“No!” You shout and kick the air as he tugs you back towards the furniture. 

“You asked for this.”

“Koo, no!” 

He drops you unceremoniously onto the cushions where you flail in an attempt to escape, but it’s futile because Jungkook is already bending down to tickle your sides. Hysterical laughter fills the space as his fingertips pitter-patter on your skin. Your best friend is ruthless as always, never halting his actions even as you squirm and swat at him to get away. 

“Say you’re sorry, Bambi.”

“Jungkook, I’m gonna fucking pee my pants,” you threaten.

“Not my problem,” he responds. 

You gasp and recoil when he starts tickling your neck, rendering you completely useless to do anything but suffer. Eventually, your brain returns from its momentary vacation and you find the will to fight back, grabbing his hands and pulling them away as you attempt to catch your breath. Jungkook’s smiling like the devil himself above you and you resist the urge to slap the smirk right off his handsome face.

This behavior is par for the course for you both, because you’re a brat who likes to test his limits, and he’s too competitive to let you have the last laugh. 

Jungkook stands to his full height, smirk still intact, while you struggle to slow your jackrabbiting heart. He moseys over to your bookshelf to survey its contents, and once you’re sitting up again, you chuck a throw pillow across the room at him. It meets his back before pathetically falling to the floor. Jungkook doesn’t even flinch. He just shakes his head and tsks at your feeble attempt at payback.

His fingers trace over the items occupying your bookshelf before settling on a thin rectangle and removing it from its home.

“Movie night?” 

He rests the corner of the DVD case against his head to show it off to you. You call him towards you with your hand so you can inspect the item for yourself. It houses a movie you haven’t seen in a long time, some low budget rom com with good sex scenes. Shrugging, you nod your head at him and watch as he goes to play the movie in your now ancient DVD player.

“I’ll go make popcorn,” you announce before standing and heading to the kitchen. 

Jungkook plummets into the couch and grabs your fuzzy blanket to spread over his legs. When you return with a large bowl of popcorn to share, he lifts the blanket and readjusts it to cover your legs as well. 

Neither of you pay much attention to the plot, too busy joking around when characters say stupid lines. You spend your time talking about your week and any plans for the upcoming weekend instead. Jungkook’s just finishing up his story about his boss accidentally unmuting himself on Teams when the first sex scene catches your attention. You both actually focus on the screen for the first time and Jungkook tilts his head while tonguing his cheek as the male character descends down the female character’s body and kisses her skin as he goes. 

“Do you ever think about it?” He asks as he throws a kernel of popcorn into the air and catches it with his mouth. 

“About what?” You look towards the screen. “Sex?” He nods and puts his arm behind you on the couch so he can face you. “Like, in general, or —”

“No, no,” Jungkook chuckles. “Like us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, have you thought about us having sex?”

The popcorn in your mouth goes down the wrong tube when you choke in response to his question. You hit your chest once to help it descend your esophagus before reaching for your drink on the coffee table. The time it takes you to gulp down the fizzy beverage isn’t nearly enough for you to gather your thoughts.

“Koo, what the actual fuck,” you scold him. 

“Is that a no?” He raises his eyebrows at you suggestively. “Because I know I have.”

“Ew, when?” 

“It’s not often, just like, every once in a while,” he explains. “I just think it would be fun! This is not me making some grandstand announcement about how I’ve always wanted you or some shit.” He readjusts so his entire body faces you directly. “Listen, we’ve done everything together. Skydiving, parasailing, swimming with dolphins, stealing from the grocery store, sneaking into the movies, you name it. Doesn’t it make sense that we should do everything before we aren’t able to anymore?”

“You forced me to go skydiving, Jungkook.” 

“That’s not the point, Bambi,” he playfully grits his teeth. “Eventually, we’re gonna settle down with our own partners and the window of opportunity will be gone. Why not try something new together while we still can?” 

Your teeth hold your bottom lip captive as your mind processes his proposal. Truthfully, you have thought about it, same as him. Not in some romantic, storybook way, but just from a perspective of knowing he’s a handsome guy with a great build and it would probably be a fun night for both of you. This conversation scares the shit out of you, though. Thinking about it is one thing, but attempting to manifest it into reality is a whole other beast. The list of things that could go wrong is longer than a CVS receipt. Then again, you and Jungkook have been through everything together and you’ve always made it out on the other side. 

“Koo, I don’t know…” you admit. “I love me some good casual sex with no feelings involved, but this is us we’re talking about.”

“Exactly!” He claps his hands together eagerly. “It’s us, probably the only two people in the whole world who nothing can come between.” Jungkook sighs and eats more popcorn from the bowl still in your lap. “I’m not trying to pressure you, Bams, I just really think we’d both have a great time. I mean, I’m hot, you’re hot, I’ve got a big dick, I’m sure your pussy is tight, what else could you want?”

You laugh at his reasoning, throwing your head back and holding the position as you blow air from your mouth. A couple anticipatory moments pass as your mind weighs the options. A large intake of air fills your lungs before you lift your head.

“Okay,” you murmur.

“Okay?”

“Okay, Koo.”

Jungkook giggles like a little kid, his feet stamping the ground repeatedly as he pumps his arms in excitement. Your laughter returns in response to his celebration, rolling your eyes affectionately at the familiar behavior of your childhood best friend.

“You said yes because I called you tight, is that it?”

Shaking your head, you push his shoulder back with your hand, using your other one to place the popcorn bowl on the coffee table. Jungkook’s eyes turn into big oases of black as his pupils dilate and conceal the normal chocolate color of his irises. You take your time straddling his thighs, your knees digging into the couch beside his hips. 

“No,” you answer him. Making a show of flipping your hair over your shoulder and bending down until you’re face to face. You avoid his lips, which are pouting slightly, to place a kiss over the tiny mole on his neck. “I said yes because you said you have a big dick and now I need to find out if that’s true,” you whisper into his ear. 

Your voice has a sultry edge you’ve never used in his presence before. Sitting back on your heels, you gaze at him with an innocent smile as you bat your eyelashes. 

Jungkook’s look of surprise is long gone, his eyes sharpening until they’re a quarter of their normal size as he stares you down. The muscles in his jaw clench and the skin of his brow creases, his eyebrows nearly kissing. Your eyes catch the thick vein in his neck pulsing with adrenaline and it makes your thighs tingle.

He laughs incredulously, running a hand through his hair as he tongues his cheek.

“Alright, so we’re doing it this way,” he muses.

In an instant, Jungkook is grabbing your hips and slamming you down into his lap. You gasp and brace yourself on his shoulders. Your reaction brings a satisfied smirk to his face, and you have the urge to roll your eyes again, but then his fingers rake into your hair and he yanks the strands to expose your throat. A needy whine passes through your lips as your neck beckons him to give it attention. He places a single, gentle kiss to your pulse point before leaving you wanting. A second noise of complaint is about to leave you when Jungkook finally starts devouring your neck with his mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan quietly. 

Jungkook chuckles melodiously against the wet spots he’s leaving on you. The feeling of his warm breath on your skin forms goosebumps across your arms and sends a shiver straight down your spine. His teeth are maiming your neck as he works diligently to paint you in pretty, purple bruises shaped like his mouth. Once the artwork appears before his eyes, he licks over the mark and kisses it before moving to conquer another spot. 

Meanwhile, your hips spring into action and you start moving in languid circles across his lap. The initial plan is to keep the pressure of your movements teasingly light, but once you feel the apparent bulge forming in his pants, you can’t resist grinding down hard against his clothed cock. 

Jungkook groans responsively and bites into your skin with his canines.

Soon enough, he ceases his assault on your neck so his lips can travel across your shoulder instead. His fingers push your shirt down your arm so he can kiss and lick your skin unimpeached. You moan loudly, the rhythm of your hips picking up in tempo as he seeks out every inch of exposed skin he can.

“Fuck, I could come in my fucking pants, Bams,” he whispers. “Please don’t stop.”

His words only motivate you to push your hips into him harder. He groans again and nods his head approvingly. You agree with him internally, the friction from your underwear rubbing against your clit steadily sending you into a frenzy.

“So good, Koo.”

Jungkook hums and leans back to appreciate the portrait of his lips he’s left on you. His fingertips gently trace over the hickies and he wears a proud smile as he turns your head back and forth to examine his work. 

“You look so pretty, all marked up,” he praises. 

Pushing him down by his shoulders, you grab his face with both hands to kiss him. There’s an electric shock when your lips meet for the first time, but you aren’t sure if it’s only in your head or if he felt it, too. 

The kiss is anything but romantic. Within seconds you’re licking into his mouth and chasing his tongue while his teeth pull at your bottom lip. Jungkook moans and his fingers press down against your scalp. Tilting your head, you kiss him like he’s your only source of oxygen. Your body and mind are in overdrive, your thighs twitching with need and you need his lips to bring you back down to earth. 

He tastes sweet like the cola he was drinking and it makes your head spin. The pretty, pink, doll lips you’ve always admired are magical in the way they move. Jungkook has you trapped between his mouth and the hand on your head, but you don’t mind when he’s kissing you until your mind blanks. 

It's a scramble of fingers and hands as you undress one another as fast as humanly possible. His warm hands brush against your stomach as he lifts your top over your head. You feel his abs beneath your fingers when you tug off his shirt. Jungkook accidentally pinches your skin when unhooking your bra and you don’t even notice, too busy kissing him like your life depends on it.

When Jungkook sees your tits for the first time, he fucking loses it. His head hits the arm of the couch as it falls back, and the growl that comes from deep within his throat is fucking demonic. 

“God, you are so fucking hot,” he declares.

You’re unable to respond because he’s already wrapping his mouth around your nipple and tweaking the other with his fingers, forcing the air from your lungs instantaneously. Jungkook’s tongue circles your nipple a couple times before he sucks the erect nub into his mouth, keeping the same pace with his fingers on your other breast. 

The moans coming from you are unrecognizable in comparison to your normal timbre, and they only grow in volume when Jungkook switches sides and repeats his debilitating ministrations.

Lacing your fingers through his black strands, you pull his face away from your chest to see his eyes. He barely looks like himself anymore, a scorching fire behind his usual soft gaze. The image lights you up inside, and you kiss him again hard enough that he tumbles back into the couch cushions and brings you along with him. 

His hands explore the smooth skin of your back and shoulders, massaging you with his big hands as he traverses across the previously uncharted territory. 

“You’re so sexy, Jungkook,” you tell him as you kiss his jaw. “Everything about you.”

His skin is searing hot and flushed red, the tint going all the way down his neck and chest. You take your time moving across his jawline and throat, sucking just below his ear and letting your tongue trace the perimeter of his earlobe. Descending down his torso, you kiss his collarbones and pecs while digging your nails into his abs, your ample attempt at showing him exactly what you mean by your comment. 

“Need you, Bambi, so fucking bad,” he whines.

The only acknowledgment you give him is by looking up with a devilish smirk before your hands start to unbutton his jeans. You pull them down just enough to reveal his boxers and hold his eye contact while you kiss the fabric covering his cock. Jungkook’s hips twitch and his eyes squeeze shut, an undeniably sexy groan leaving him. Your hands caress his thighs while you mouth at his boxers and you can feel him getting harder with each press of your lips.

He hurries to pull his pants down the rest of the way while you hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. When you tease him by letting them snap against his hips, he hisses and you see his Adam's apple bob. His hips buck towards your face desperately, making you snicker at his attempt to create friction. 

“Patience, Koo,” you tease him. Jungkook grits his teeth at your taunt, but only a second later the tension seeps from his body when you reach into his boxers and palm him. “Let’s see if you were exaggerating or not, hmm?”

Once his boxers are gone, you realize he was, in fact, under exaggerating. He knows it, too, because when you glance up, he’s smirking with pride, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. 

“Whaddaya think?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“How about you see how much that pretty mouth of yours can take?” 

One thing about you and Jungkook is you're both competitive as hell, and you’ll be damned if his whole dick isn’t situated down your throat soon just to prove a point.

Gathering spit in your mouth, you lean directly over his hard cock and let it slowly fall from your lips to his head. You wait for the sound of Jungkook moaning before doing it again, this time actually spitting instead of letting it drip down. Your hand gathers the saliva to spread it over his head and down his shaft. Your best friend is panting above you as he studies the way you work his cock with your hand. 

Jungkook is stupid fucking big, and you genuinely fear he’ll split you in half when you fuck. Not only is his dick long, but it’s so thick your fingertips don’t touch when you grasp him. He’s rock hard and throbbing in your hold and there’s a perfect bead of precum just waiting for you to lick. 

When you do, Jungkook cries out in pleasure and it's hands down the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard. He’s always been the tough one between you, and having him like puddy in your hands is more satisfying than you care to admit. 

Your tongue flattens over his slit and you groan at the taste of his cum, your mouth already watering at the thought of more coming your way. You lick around his head in one long stroke and then circle your tongue just under the sensitive ridge. Jungkook whines at the feeling of your tongue on his aching dick. Your hand is still using your self-made lubricant to glide up and down his shaft. 

“Bams, fuck,” Jungkook pants the words across staccato exhales. 

It’s nearly impossible for you to say no to the man begging for your mouth, so you finally end your teasing and take him between your lips. You suckle on his head and let more saliva drip down his shaft before removing your hand to focus solely on the movements of your mouth. Your hands hold onto his muscular thighs as you finally take him deeper into your throat.

It definitely takes time for your lips and throat to adjust to his size. Each time you slide down his cock you take more of him into your mouth until your nose hits his pelvis. You breathe through your nose and stay there for a moment, swallowing and moaning around him. 

“Oh, shit.” Jungkook looks down at you in awe, watching in wonder at the way your lips stretch around his cock. “Bambi, holy fucking shit.” 

The chuckle you release sends vibrations around Jungkook’s dick and his hips buck up responsively. You moan again and squeeze his thighs, attempting to send a message that he’s free to repeat the action. He must interpret your message accurately because you feel him forming your hair into a makeshift ponytail and thrusting his hips up. 

Jungkook would never want to hurt you, so even though his body is screaming at him to animalisticaly fuck your mouth, his thrusts are shallow and modest.

Even so, his strokes make you gag every time his tip hits the back of your throat. He’s pulling on your hair and the sensation of being used like a sex toy makes your eyes roll back. Tears form and roll down to meet the drool that’s leaking from your mouth. Breathing through your nose, you suck harder to make a tighter fit for him. He’s appreciative, growling and yanking on your hair as a thank you. 

“Shit, I’m gonna come,” he warns you. Hearing his words, you massage his heavy balls in your hand to push him over the edge. A broken moan comes from above you and his hips start to lose their cadence as his orgasm nears. “Can I… your throat…”

His words are clipped, but you understand and squeeze his thigh to give him permission. Within a single moment you start tasting his cum at the back of your throat. Moaning endlessly at how good he tastes, you move your lips up and down his cock as he comes, swallowing his seed and licking him clean at the same time. 

When you’re certain you’ve stolen every last drop and sucked him dry, you come up for air with a harsh gasp.

“Holy fuck,” you curse and massage your jaw. 

Jungkook grabs your chin with his hand and makes you look at him so he can see that you’re alright. You nod assuredly and sit back on your heels. 

“That was, on God, the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Jungkook states. 

You laugh and shove his chest, but he snatches your hand and pulls you towards him. He kisses you like he fucking means it, grabbing the side of your face so you can’t move an inch. Your moans meet in each other’s mouths as Jungkook sucks on your tongue to taste himself. 

“Can we move this party to the bedroom?”

Jungkook nods, his hand still caressing your face, before helping you up so you can both head to your room at the back of the apartment. When the door opens, your grey munchkin cat scurries out from behind the door. 

“Oh, Usagi, I forgot you were in there,” you say as she bolts for her scratching post. 

“Probably a good thing,” Jungkook notes, his eyes gesturing down to his dick still on display. 

You chuckle and grab his hand to lead him into the room before shutting the door behind you. He immediately takes a seat on the bed while you stay standing to pull your pants down your legs. 

Jungkook’s eyes trace the movement, his pupils blowing even wider when he sees your black lace panties and the evident wet spot on them. Reaching his hand out, you take it and stand between his legs. Your hands push his hair back, scratching at his scalp to hear the pretty moan that accompanies the movement. 

He leans forward and kisses your abdomen, just above your panties. You sigh as his lips traverse the expanse of your stomach and hips, leaving a hot, wet trail in their wake. 

“Koo, need you,” you whimper. 

The feeling of his teeth sinking into the skin of your waist makes you jump, but then he soothes the ache with his tongue. 

“You know, since you made me come already, I’m going to have to fuck you in other ways until I’m ready to go again,” he states. You hum in acknowledgment and he rests his chin against you to gaze upwards. “You gonna be able to handle that, Bams?”

“Don’t go making promises you can’t keep.”

Jungkook scoffs and turns you around, slapping your ass harshly before pulling you down into his lap. You yelp at the sudden change in position, but the feeling of his warm chest on your back makes you melt into his embrace. 

“Do you even know me at all, Bams?” He scoffs again. “How many orgasms have you had in one night before?”

“Like… three?”

“Pussy fucking numbers,” he snaps. “We’re aiming for double digits here.”

“Jungkook!” You look over your shoulder at him in shock, but his facial expression is completely serious. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m really fucking not.” 

“I’ll die.”

Jungkook just shakes his head disapprovingly and licks his lips. He grabs your jaw to turn your head, his hand diving into your hair again to hold you in place so he can ravish your mouth. His kiss has you completely hypnotized and you barely remember the conversation you were just having.

“How about we compromise and aim for five?” He suggests.

You want to kiss him too badly to muster a response, so you just hum in affirmation before turning around and bringing his lips to yours. He pulls you into him as he falls back onto the bed. Your legs return to their position on either side of his muscular thighs, and your lips work earnestly to kiss every inch of his face and jaw until they reach his neck. 

Your clothed cunt grinds over his dick as you mark him with a matching bruise to your own, the friction created by your panties making you groan. You continue to lick and torment the delicate skin of his neck while he guides your movements with his hands. 

All too soon, Jungkook stops you by grabbing your shoulder and you eye him curiously. His eyes flit around the features of your face for a minute. When he smiles in satisfaction, you know he’s got a tantalizing idea for how he’s going to make you come. 

“Sit on my face,” he commands. 

You don’t need to be told twice to get your pussy ate. 

Jungkook moves to the center of the bed and taps his chest to beckon you over. Bending to remove your panties, you look up in surprise when Jungkook halts your actions by grabbing your wrist. 

“How expensive were those?” He asks. 

“$20 maybe.”

“Leave ‘em on, I’ll buy you new ones.”

Sometimes you conveniently forget your best friend is rich until moments like these when he reminds you. 

When you and Jungkook were in college he coded and designed an entire video game in his spare time, because he’s a freaking genius, and then he sold said video game for millions of dollars. Now he works as a lead designer at the biggest video game company in the country and consistently makes six figures. 

Jungkook has a huge dick and an even bigger bank account, and here you thought God made everyone equal.

Shrugging at his instruction, you do as he says and climb onto the bed. As tactfully as possible, you maneuver your legs around Jungkook’s head and sit up on your knees so your core is a few inches above his mouth. His hands hold your hips and he takes the time to trace over your curves while looking up at your pussy slowly soaking the lace of your underwear. 

After several long moments of eager anticipation, he yanks you down by your thighs until the tip of his nose is tickling you. Your head tips back as you sigh, the feeling of his nose rubbing against your clit through your underwear satiating the craving for his touch. He presses a few chaste kisses to the black fabric as he nuzzles his nose into your cunt to give you more friction. You grip his hair beneath you as he continues to tease you with featherlight touches of his nose and mouth. 

“Koo, don’t,” you beg. 

His only reply is a hum and you feel the vibrations from it against your core. Then he bites at your underwear to give him access to your pussy before licking you from bottom to top. The fabric sinks between your folds as Jungkook’s tongue presses the panties into you and the friction feels unbelievable on your clit. 

Your hand yanks on his hair in appreciation as he continues to eat you out and use your sopping wet panties to pleasure you. 

Once he’s ready for more, his hands move towards your cunt and a loud ripping sound permeates the air. You gasp when you feel him throw your torn panties to the side before forcing your pussy down harder on his face. He collects all the essence you’re leaking with an erotic slurping sound. His tongue slides through your folds and fucks into your hole while his nose continues to apply pressure to your clit.

“Holy shit, Jungkook.”

He laughs against your pussy and slows down just enough so you can hear him.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Bams.”

Your free hand claws at the bed frame haphazardly as he eats you like it’s his goddamn job. He kisses your cunt messily, spitting into it and smearing your cum around his face along with his own salvia. His tongue travels up to your clit and the pure, unadulterated pleasure makes you scream. When he flattens the muscle against your sensitive nub you swear you’ll fall over, but his hands on your thighs are still holding you steady above him. 

“Koo, holy fuck.” Your head tips back and your nails bite into the fabric of the headboard. “Make me come, please.”

Jungkook moans responsively beneath you and dives in even deeper, licking you menacingly without reprieve while guiding your hips to ride his face. You take the hint and begin moving your hips on your own, letting your pussy press against all the outlines of his face as his tongue laps up your juices. 

He returns to your clit again and scrapes his teeth against it, causing tears to escape from your waterline as you whimper. Soothing the ache of his bite with his tongue, he slows to a tortuous pace as he kitten licks you for a while. You’re crying continuously now, your hips desperately seeking anything they can get as you move across his face in an erratic rhythm. Jungkook takes pity on you and finally sucks your clit into his mouth before moaning so he can send you right over the edge.

Your hand sinks further into Jungkook’s hair and your nails scratch his scalp as you come all over his face. The bedframe rocks from how hard you’re holding on while your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. Absolute, unbridled euphoria moves through you and makes your eyes roll back. 

Jungkook continues to lick your cunt until you jump from the oversensitivity and move away from his face. You hear a disappointed groan as you crash onto the bed beside him. 

“You taste so fucking good, Bams,” he tells you. “I could do that all fucking night.”

Chest swelling with pride, you’re about to reply when you feel something against your back and frown in confusion. The scratchy material rubs awkwardly against you and you bend away from it to grab it. 

Your soaked, ripped panties dangle from your fingers as you click your tongue and throw them into the trash can. 

“You’re a fucking gremlin,” you note.

Jungkook doesn’t respond to your statement, he just maintains eye contact while moving to kneel before pulling you closer by the waist. The pretty vision of him above you makes your breath hitch. 

His hand travels ostentatiously from your neck all the way down to your hip, lighting an internal fire within you wherever his touch goes. You wait with bated breath as his fingers dance across your skin until they reach your center. Jungkook deliberately teases you, his fingertips just barely touching your clit before moving away again.

You hiss and grab his wrist so his hand can’t move towards your pussy again.

“What?” Jungkook smiles down at you with a tilt of his head. “You’re not ready for more yet? We’re only at one of five, Bambi, we’ve got a lot more work to do.” He twists his hand out of your hold and presses down on your clit. You whimper and silently beg him with your eyes. “Plus, I’m an overachiever, so you know five is really going to be more like seven.”

“Seven?”

“Ilgop.”

“Fuck, don’t speak Korean to me right now. You know how hot it gets me.”

Jungkook giggles, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You smile at the sound and run your fingers through his hair. 

He takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, and you instinctively lean your head away to give him more of you. His lips caress you gently for a while, but then he growls against your throat and grabs your jaw to hold you still. Your gasp settles into a moan and Jungkook takes it as a cue to continue playing with your pussy. His fingers circle your clit and your noises become even needier. He dips into your folds to collect your cum so he can rub over your nerve endings and it nearly expels all the air from your lungs. 

Jungkook  touches you like he’s done it a million times already and that thought alone leaves you breathless. 

“Koo, baby, please,” you whimper in a tone even you don’t recognize. Jungkook’s big, boba eyes are back when he captures your gaze to wordlessly ask what you’re begging him for. “I don’t want to come. I want you.”

A dazzling smile appears on Jungkook’s lips, and a pretty, pink blush spreads across his cheeks and turns the tips of his ears red. 

“Alright, Bambi,” he responds with a peck. “Condom?”

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him in for more kisses.

“I’m on birth control.”

Jungkook kisses you again before you can do so yourself.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod against his lips. “Want you raw, Koo.”

“Fuck,” Jungkook chuckles. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Jungkook goes to pump his cock with his hand, but before he has the chance, you bring his palm to your lips and spit into it. He groans, his eyes rolling back, as he reaches down and uses your spit to fuck his hand. 

Your eyes follow the movement of his wrist jerking himself off. It’s honestly mouthwatering to watch his thick cockhead push past his fingers as he gets himself hard again for you. 

He kisses your shoulder and collarbone, then licks up your neck until he reaches your ear. His teeth softly sink into the cartilage. 

“You ready for me, Bams?” 

His deep voice melts your insides into goo and forces your brain into another frequency. Everything is static except for the feeling of his body hovering above yours. 

All you do is nod your head in response to his question.

Jungkook’s tip pushes past your tight circle of nerves and already you feel too full to function. A wanton gasp and whimper follow the intrusion as he slowly enters you for the first time. Your nails create crescents on his shoulders as you inhale through your nose to relieve the pressure in your core.

“Koo… you’re so fucking big,” you whine. 

“I know, I know,” he chuckles. 

He kisses your temple appreciatively. 

By the time his entire cock is deep within your walls, his pelvis pressing against your own, you already feel yourself losing it. Jungkook fills you up completely, and you can barely bring yourself to exhale the air you’re holding in. 

“Fuck, Bambi, are you a virgin or some shit?”

“You know damn well I’m not a virgin,” you grit.

Jungkook groans deeply as his head falls forward and his hair tickles your cheeks when he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Then what the fuck are you so fucking tight for?” 

You loudly hum and pretend to think it over before glancing at him with a sultry tilt of your head.

“I think my pussy’s just that good,” you say. Pulling his face down so it’s only centimeters away, you let your lips brush for a split second before replying. “And it’s all yours, Jungkook. So fuck me like you mean it.”

Jungkook rears back and ferociously thrusts into you before your next breath can even exit your lungs. 

“Oh, fuck!” 

A sinister chuckle comes from your best friend.

“Be careful what you wish for.”

Any semblance of control is forcefully taken away when Jungkook grabs your hands and slams them into the mattress above your head. Simultaneously, he begins pumping his cock into you at a disastrous pace and you can’t do anything but incoherently moan. 

There’s no adjustment period, no slow-moving start. Jungkook is already fucking you like a goddamn ragdoll made solely for his pleasure. 

“Koo, oh my fucking God,” you cry. It’s barely been a minute and hot, salty tears are already streaming down your face. 

Jungkook kisses you and his moans filter into your mouth. His grip on your hands is bruising and it makes you whimper pathetically against his lips.  

“Jungkook,” you sob as he abuses your pussy. 

“Shh, shh.” He kisses you gently. “You can take it.” He kisses your cheek and up the side of your face. “I got you, Bams.”

You keen and your hands clasp around Jungkook’s in an effort to protect whatever’s left of your sanity. 

His cock is buried in your pussy but you swear you feel yourself choking on him in your throat. Everytime his tip kisses your cervix you fear being split in two and yet there’s nothing you want more than for him to continue. You want him to rip you in half if it means feeling this full. He’s combining his strokes with a grind of his hips and it makes your cunt greedy for him, sucking him inside and squeezing his cock so he’ll never leave again. 

Jungkook is throbbing and scorching hot inside you and the heat travels from your pussy throughout your entire body, lighting a fire in your bones and between your muscles that only he has the ability to stifle. 

Your senses are amped up to ten and you scream over how deep he’s sending his dick into you. 

The fire escapes externally when Jungkook releases your hands to explore your body instead. They travel down your entire outline until they find your hips and he tilts them upwards to create a new angle. 

“Fuck, I always knew your pussy would feel this good,” he grunts. “You’re a fucking dream.”

The combination of the closer angle and Jungkook’s praises genuinely turns you to ruins, scattering pieces of your soul around and covering them in ivy. You kiss him again even though you know there’s no use, you’re shattered already. You devour his mouth, responding to his compliment through the movement of your lips instead of the words your body can’t produce at the moment. 

Your fingers tilt his head so you can mouth at his sharp jaw, letting your tongue slide across his skin as he growls in your ear. Alternating between biting and kissing, you soak his honey skin in your spit and listen for the moans coming from deep within his chest. 

“You feel so good, Koo,” you whisper into his ear. “Your cock fills me up so fucking well.”

“Shit,” he grunts. Jungkook grabs your thighs and pulls them up higher until you’re practically bent in half, your knees next to his shoulders. “So fucking good. You take me like a fucking champ, Bambi.”

Jungkook slows his pace by a hair, but only so he can thrust into you harder. Each clap of your skin connecting pulls a pornographic moan from your throat. You feel his balls slapping against your ass and the way your bodies are pressing together adds just the right amount of pressure on your clit. 

It makes for a mind boggling combination that has your brain disintegrating into nothingness. 

Your next orgasm is looming just around the corner. It builds inside you like a rollercoaster slowly moving up the track. Jungkook ups his pace again when he feels the telltale signs of your cunt pulsing and tightening around him like a vice. 

“Cream my cock, Bams,” he commands. “C’mon, beautiful.”

A splintering gasp chokes you as you obey and come around his dick, coating his entire shaft in white essence. 

The climax is brain chemistry altering. It feels as though your blood is ablaze and your heart can’t beat fast enough to push it through your body. Your legs clamp around his waist as they shake and convulse from the pleasure. All the while, Jungkook continues fucking his cock into your hole and sending you straight into oversensitivity subspace. 

You’re still catching your breath when you grab Jungkook tightly by the shoulder to halt his movements. He looks at you with curious eyes, but he doesn’t completely stop, just slows down significantly and thrusts shallowly into you.

“Wanna ride you, Koo,” you tell him. “Wanna make you come so you can stuff me and watch it drip out.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, his teeth grinding together. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, you can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to bust!”

You laugh mischievously as he grabs you by the waist to flip you both over. Your bodies are only parted for a mere moment before you’re sinking back down onto his dick and scratching at his pecs with your nails. 

“Oh my God, I didn’t think it was possible for you to reach any further inside me,” you note.

“Of course, Bambi, gonna rearrange your fucking guts,” Jungkook proudly states.

It’s disturbing how exciting the thought of that is.

The rhythm of your hips is nowhere near as monstrous, letting his cock slowly leave your cunt before feeling him fill you up again one inch at a time. Using his chest to stabilize yourself, your thighs work religiously to bounce and fuck yourself on him. You look towards the ceiling, a groan rising from your throat due to his thick cock pressing against your walls and hitting just the right spot inside you. 

Jungkook reaches up to play with your tits dangling over his face, massaging them in his big hands before pushing them together. His fingers pinch your nipples until they’re pebbled and stiff. He leans forward to take one into his mouth and you have to grab onto his hair for support. 

He smacks your ass and you yelp, but you understand the message he’s trying to send and pick up the pace. You push him back down and lean over so your hard nipples are pressing against the heat of his chest. 

“Atta girl,” he praises with another stinging slap of his hand on your ass. His digits make a home in your hair again and he uses the leverage to force you to stare into his eyes. “Pussy s’fucking good, Bams.” Jungkook kisses across your neck torturously slow before speaking again. “So fucking tight, warm, wet… could stay in here for-fucking-ever.”

“Koo,” you whisper breathlessly.

Your hips swivel in desperation to send his dick as deep as it can go, honestly hoping your guts do part for him so his cock can nestle permanently inside you. 

“You gonna come again?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good,” he speaks into your ear. “Come on my big, fat cock, babygirl.”

The moan you let out is the most humiliating sound to ever come from your body. 

Luckily, no more are able to escape because Jungkook kisses you senseless. His tongue shoves into your mouth and licks around your own as you bounce on him as fast as your thighs will allow. He perpetuates your efforts by grasping your hips and rolling his own against you. It creates the perfect amount of friction on your clit and sends you tumbling into a pool of ecstasy.

“Fuck, Jungkook!”

You weep over the intensity of your orgasm while he continues kissing you. Not wanting to lose an ounce of momentum, Jungkook takes over for you as your orgasm paralyzes your mind. 

He fucks you relentlessly to bring about his own climax and the sound of your skin clapping together is so loud you worry it will shake your doorframe and alert the neighbors. 

“Gonna fill you up, Bams,” he warns you. 

He thrusts hard once, twice, sending his cock so deep you swear you see your stomach bulge, and then he grunts and a strangled cry breaks from his lips as he paints your pussy with his cum.

The heat of it makes your eyes roll into your skull.

You kiss him through the come down, slowly traversing across the bottom half of his face and scraping his jaw with your teeth. He moans weakly, the hand still in your hair moving down to your neck and squeezing it affectionately. You make out as he goes flaccid within you, the mixture of your juices slowly dripping out and soaking your thighs. 

Jungkook grabs your ass in both hands and massages the fatty flesh like he owns it, giving you one final spank to tint your skin red in the shape of his hand.

“Jungkook,” you mumble against his lips. “That was s’fucking good.”

A prideful chuckle meets your ears as Jungkook rests his head against the pillows to gaze up at you. 

“Yeah? Told you we’d have fun,” he brags. 

Lifting yourself off of him, you curse at the sticky mess between your legs. In one motion, you swing your leg over Jungkook’s thighs and fall down next to him with a bounce. You’ll worry about the sheets being drenched in the morning. 

Jungkook grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles before holding it against his heart thumping wildly in his chest. 

“Thanks for trying something new with me, Bams,” he says sincerely. 

Your eyes meet with twin smiles. Running your fingers through his hair, you tuck a piece behind his ear and lean in to give him a final peck of gratitude. 

It takes a minute for your body to stop screaming at you so you can stand. When you head for the bathroom, Usagi meows angrily from her spot just beyond the door. You coo at her and bend down to scratch under her chin.

“I’m sowwy, baby,” you apologize to the little creature. 

She saunters right past you to hop on the bed and curl up next to Jungkook who’s covering his bare body with your comforter. His eyes light up when he sees her approaching and he bends down to kiss her little head repeatedly until she meows at him to stop. 

You return from the bathroom in a large sleep shirt fresh from the dryer and toss a pair of equally fresh sweats to Jungkook. Both items are originally his, anyway. 

He eyes you knowingly when he clocks the familiar article of clothing. His tongue clicks with a single shake of his head before he’s slipping the pants on and securing them around his hips.

“You want me to sleep on the couch like usual?” He asks with his arms behind his head. 

You scoff affectionately.

“You already look pretty comfortable right there, Koo,” you retort.

“Oh, I am.” He pets Usagi dramatically as she purrs. “And Usagi wants me here, you can’t so no to her!” 

“You’re right, I can’t.”

Jungkook lifts the covers so you can join him in the snuggle puddle he and your cat are partaking in. You make yourself comfortable beneath the sheets and he mirrors you, much to Usagi’s chagrin since she’s sequestered to the foot of the bed to accommodate the extra body. 

It takes you all of thirty seconds to fall asleep once your head hits the pillow, and Jungkook is already halfway into dreamland himself when you do. 

You wake with a pounding headache and unbelievably sore thighs. Groaning at the aches and pains, you leave your bed and attempt to walk normally even though you feel like you got fucked by a semitruck instead of your best friend. It’s a mess of stumbling feet and running into furniture corners as you groggily head to the kitchen for some pain pills. 

Grabbing some for Jungkook after swallowing your own, you head back and set them along with a water bottle on your nightstand for when he wakes up. 

The smell of breakfast must coax Jungkook back into the land of the living because he stumbles out from your bedroom soon after it’s ready. You laugh at the way his hair sticks up in a million directions and his eyes barely open. 

“Morning, sunshine,” you sing-song.

He only greets you with a wave as he heads towards your bathroom. 

When he emerges again he looks slightly more put together, at least, you can see his big, brown eyes again as he makes his way to you.

“Morning,” he says. 

“Brekkie?”

You push a plate of assorted breakfast food towards him before turning around to place your own in the sink. He eats with that lovable scowl on his face which indicates you successfully cooked him a worthwhile meal. 

Neither of you bring up the events which took place last night because you don’t need to, there’s no unspoken tension or uncomfortable vibes floating around. Jungkook was right when he said nothing can come between you, and as fun as it was, now everything just goes back to normal.

It does not stay normal for long.

ONE

Women are beautiful, complex, intricate beings, whose bodies and minds can do extraordinary things. Women can move mountains when they strive to and you’re proud to call yourself one. 

Simultaneously, they can be dumbasses who can’t remember when their last period was. 

While sitting at your desk typing up a bullshit report for some bullshit exec who can’t be bothered to read his own emails, you open the drawer on your left. It houses all your office essentials like pens, tape, paper clips, and tampons. 

Your head tilts as you examine the colorful packaging you haven’t seen in a while. There seems to be a lot of them, especially since you usually run out and have to restock halfway through hell week.

Glancing up at your calendar, you count the weeks backwards and then flip it one month prior to check the exact date. 

You laugh aloud to yourself, because, surely, you just forgot to mark the calendar like you always do and you don’t remember restocking the tampons after your period ended. That must be the case because there’s no way in hell you’re two weeks late. It’s simply an impossibility and abundantly more plausible that your memory is failing you rather than your body. 

The skin of your lower lip is bitten raw as your eyes flit between the calendar and the menstrual products which are both staring into your soul. If they could speak, you think they’d be saying “we know what you did.” 

Pushing away from your desk, you take a deep breath and decide the best course of action is to walk around the office. 

Maybe seeing the inside of a bathroom stall will jog your memory of the last time you were bleeding, or passing by the kitchen will force you to recall when you last grabbed some extra candies from the community bowl. 

It’s all for nought. Your excursion around the building is an utter failure, and suddenly the walls of the office feel as though they’re closing in on you. 

Deciding to head home after lunch because you can’t focus anyway, you stop at the corner store by your house and grip your purse strap to stop your hands from shaking as you enter the women’s health aisle. The hundreds of pregnancy tests glare at you from their place on the shelf and you have to sink your teeth into your battered lower lip again to stop anxious tears from forming. 

This must be some horrible nightmare, you tell yourself. You’re gonna wake up and realize you fell asleep at your desk because your job is just that boring. The sharp pinch you apply to your arm forces you to stop lying to yourself.

Groaning in frustration, you analyze both the brands and prices of the demonic little fortune tellers and choose two each from multiple different brands because you need to be real fucking sure. 

You’re two years shy of thirty and you still feel like you’re having a teen pregnancy scare. 

The woman behind the counter is smiling as she places the tests into a bag. It’s probably because she believes you’ll be ecstatic about a positive result and run straight home to tell your husband. Most women your age would be doing so, but you don’t have a husband, you have a childhood best friend who you decided to hook up with for funsies. 

The abundant traffic you hit on the way home only makes your swirling whirlpool of nerves worse, and by the time you’re unlocking your apartment door and rushing to the bathroom, your lip is bleeding from how much skin you’ve ripped. 

You bought six tests, like a crazy person, and so it takes a couple minutes for you to successfully pee on all of them and place them on the counter with their caps on. Setting your phone timer for three minutes, you sit on the toilet seat to wait the eternity of 180 seconds. 

The anticipation eats away at your insides like sulfuric acid, and your leg bounces forcefully as though you’re going through withdrawal. 

Your mind is somersaulting over itself and flopping on the ground like a fish out of water as you wonder how this is even possible. You’re on birth control, and you checked your pills before leaving work; you didn’t miss a single one. 

There’s always the horror stories about the unlucky .01% of women whose contraceptives fail due to stress or poor health, but you don’t think that applies to you. Sure, you don’t join Jungkook at the gym, and work makes you wanna pull your hair out, but you feel great most days. 

The timer derails your train of thought with an incessant buzz. Glancing at the counter, you reach for one of the tests with shaking hands as you pray for the right result. 

Once you find the courage to actually look, your heart stops, and when you stand to see your plethora of pregnancy tests side by side, your eyes bulge from your skull. 

Staring back at you like the fates themselves are three matching sets of a plus sign, two parallel lines, and the word “pregnant.”

Hands slapping against your mouth, you gasp into your palms as reality forces its way into the bathroom with you. Your eyes squeeze shut as tears break from the confines of your waterline. You shake your head a couple times, trying to get your mind files back into their rightful places. It doesn’t work, and all the papers which make up your consciousness go flying all over the place. 

The cacophony of emotions on top of your disembodied mind forces your senses to scramble and discombobulate. 

You’re scared, worried, sad, confused, and shocked, but somewhere inside you’re happy, too. Being a mom is a huge dream of yours and even if it’s unexpected, it’s still a dream come true. 

Unfortunately, happiness is the lowest emotion on the totem pole, and your negative emotions are much closer to the surface. 

Running your hands down your face, you gaze at the tests as a sob shakes through you. You brace your hands on the counter and allow yourself to cry through all of the emotions. The heavy tears drop into the sink below you one by one as you decide what to do next.

First things first, you have to tell the baby’s father.

“Fuck, he’s gonna fucking kill me.” Tipping your head back to send the loose tears back from whence they came, you blow air from your mouth and close your eyes. “He’s gonna hate me. He’s gonna lose his shit and never wanna see me again and I’m gonna —” A sob slices through your windpipe and causes your voice to break. “I’m gonna lose him.”

You hug your knees and let yourself freefall until your butt meets the tile. The floor is cold and your muscles ache from the force of your crash into the ground, but it serves as a momentary distraction from your mental anguish. The sound of your sorrow fills the space as you take heaving breaths and soak your jeans with tears. Usagi scratches at the door and the sound of her little paws calling for you breaks your heart.

Stretching towards the door, you reach and turn the doorknob just enough for it to open. 

You watch fondly as your cat’s little legs carry her to your side. When she reaches you, she jumps into your lap and curls into an adorable ball of love. Fresh tears fall over the sweet affection she’s giving you, and you bend down to kiss her and rub your face in her fur.

“You’re gonna be a big sister, Usagi,” you tell her. 

Eventually, you calm down enough to stand and find your phone. You don’t think you can handle Jungkook’s voice right now, so you text him to come over whenever he’s free. He replies within a few minutes saying he’s got one more meeting and then he’ll be there. You mindlessly stare at his text message as anxiety simmers in your gut. This might just be the one thing that finally comes between you two. 

When Jungkook arrives you’re pacing in a trance around the living room. He unlocks the door with his key and kicks it open since his hands are full with takeout containers. Your eyes threaten to water when you realize he’s bringing you dinner without you asking. 

Your best friend is thoughtful, deliberate, and so, so kind, and here you are about to shatter his world as he knows it.

At the very second his two feet step into your apartment, you scurry across the floor and throw your arms around his neck. He takes an involuntary step back and drops the bags when you barrel into him, a deep chuckle coming from his chest that you feel against your own. 

“Bams?” 

You manhandle the emotions trying to escape back into their cages. You want, no, need, at least one more moment with him as you are now, before everything changes forever.

His arms wrap around you on instinct, one of his hands resting on the back of your head to cradle you closer. 

“Sorry,” you say as you reluctantly let go. “Rough day.”

“Well, I brought kimchi fried rice, so it can’t be that rough,” he jokes. 

You fake a smile and nod in agreement before grabbing one of the containers to bring it to the kitchen. Once he places the second one down, you tap your nails against the countertop and contemplate whether or not to wait. Jungkook, clearly oblivious to your turmoil, is already moving towards the fridge to grab a drink before sitting on the couch. It’s now or never, you suppose.

Each step you take to stand across from him feels like trudging through concrete and the overwhelming anxiety is gnawing at you like a wild animal. The notion that this could be the last time you see him smiling at you or have the ability to hear him laugh is debilitating.

You click your heels once you’re opposite him on the other side of the coffee table. He raises an eyebrow at you in a silent question, but you ignore his confusion and fill your lungs with the charged air.

“I’m pregnant.”

You didn't know silence could be so deafening. 

Jungkook’s cola bottle falls from his hands onto the floor with a plastic boing sound. The noise feels inappropriate for the tension of the room. His pupils are shaking as his eyes grow in size exponentially and the skin between his eyebrows creases as his lips part. Even from here you can see his mouth’s run completely dry. 

You take another deep breath, but you aren’t able to stop your emotions from leaking out anymore. 

“And I’m really, really scared,” you say as your voice breaks. 

Jungkook immediately snaps out of his daze when he hears your tone of voice, all of his previously tense features softening as he stands to reach you. 

The next thing you know, his warm hands are caressing your cheeks as he brushes the tears away.

“Hey, hey, Bambi,” he whispers. “It’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” You cry harder at the gentle nature of his voice, like he’s worried he’ll break you if he talks too loud. “I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got me, alright? We’ve got each other. That's all that matters.”

“You aren’t mad?” 

“Mad?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. “You thought I would be mad at you, Bams?” You nod as best you can with your face caught between his hands. Jungkook frowns deeply. “Why would I be mad?”

“Because… because my birth control fucking failed and now we’re… we’re gonna be parents and —”

“That’s not your fault,” Jungkook interrupts. “I’m the one who creampied you, Bambi.”

“Yeah, but I told you to.”

“Oh, I assure you, I would’ve asked if you hadn’t.”

Despite your current emotional state, you laugh at his explanation. Your tears slowly, but surely, subside after a few more minutes. Gripping his wrists, you remove his hands from your face and hold them instead. 

“I’m still sorry,” you say quietly. 

“Don’t apologize,” he responds, then tilts your chin up. “You’re gonna make me a dad, Bams. That’s nothing to apologize for.”

The sigh of relief you exhale is exuberant. A smile creeps onto your face and Jungkook mirrors the expression before a mischievous grin appears instead. 

He encompasses your waist and lifts you into the air in one swoop, you screech at the sudden movement and koala him to keep yourself from falling. He giggles incessantly as he spins you both around in circles in the middle of your living room. 

“Koo! Put me down!”  

He obeys after a moment, but not before bending his knees to dip you down towards the floor. You squeal until a fit of laughter overtakes you as he slowly brings you both back up to his full height. 

“I’m so happy, Bams, you have no idea,” he tells you wholeheartedly. 

Once the laughter subsides, you inhale fondly and caress his jaw with one of your hands.

“Me, too,” you admit. 

A full blown bunny smile greets you and Jungkook nuzzles his nose against yours, making you giggle and blush a rosy pink hue. When your feet are on the earth again, you head for the kitchen, but Jungkook stops you with a hand to your forearm.

“Can I…” Jungkook begins to ask, his eyes glancing towards your stomach. 

“Can you what, Koo?” 

“Can I, ya know, touch?” 

Looking down at your stomach, which is still identical to its normal size, you raise an eyebrow at him, but find yourself nodding yes anyway.

He giggles delightfully and places his palm over your abdomen, where soon enough you’ll have a baby bump. 

“Man, this is fucking awesome.” You find yourself chuckling at his excitement over literally nothing at all yet. “Can I come to your doctor’s appointments?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to go to them without you,” you answer. “I still have to make the first one. I only took the tests a couple hours ago.” 

“Were you alone?” He’s frowning as he asks, regret evident in his tone. 

“Usagi was there.”

Jungkook scoffs, chuckling knowingly as he shakes his head and follows you into the kitchen. 

You eat together as though you didn’t just deliver life alternating news. Which honestly, is the only outcome that ever would’ve come to fruition. Perhaps the staggering emotions of finding out you’re pregnant made you forget just how much you two love and care for each other. Your friendship is backed by nearly three decades of time spent together, and even something as massive as a baby can’t shake that foundation. 

What might shake the foundation of a house is the screams of joy your mothers are going to let out when you tell them. They’ve been begging you for a shared grandchild since you graduated college. 

Jungkook is supportively holding your hand as you two stand on the front porch of your house, which is conveniently down the street from his house, because that’s just how close your parents are. You can’t blame them, you’re sure you and Jungkook will be the same one day, especially now. 

The memories of your childhood are flooding through your mind while you stand in the familiar location. It gets you thinking about all the new memories you’ll make with your own child one day. 

Releasing the tension from your neck, you nod at Jungkook to let him know you’re ready. He returns the gesture and lets go of your hand to knock on the door. Unsurprisingly, it’s his mother’s face who comes into view from the other side of the screen door.

“Oh, Kookie! What are you two doing here?” She asks cheerfully.

“What are you doing here, Mom?” Jungkook asks as he hugs her. 

“Oh, you know I practically live here.”

You laugh, knowing how right she is, and give her a big, bear hug. Her comforting presence always eases your anxieties, especially now when you’re worried about their reaction to your news. 

She guides you through the house as though it’s her own and leads you into the kitchen where your mom is cooking dinner. You greet her with a hug and kiss on the cheek as she stirs the pot on the stove. Jungkook follows suit, resting his head on her shoulder as he hugs her side. 

Your mom tells you she’s nearly done and to go sit. She joins you a few minutes later after turning the stove off and removing the food from the heat.

“Seriously, kids, what did you come all this way for?” Jungkook’s mom asks once you’re all sitting around the kitchen table. 

“It’s not that far,” you say. 

“No, but you two never show up unannounced like this,” your mom states. 

“We have something to tell you,” Jungkook says. 

His hand finds yours under the table and gives it a comforting squeeze, out of the eyesight of your mothers. Your petrified eyes flicker towards him, but he just nods and smiles reassuringly at you. You lick your lips and sit up as a way of giving yourself a moment of reprieve before you change the entire atmosphere of the home. 

“I’m pregnant,” you announce. “We’re having a baby.”

“WE?” They scream in unison. 

You instantly lose all their attention. They’re too busy screaming like school girls while clasping their hands together and shaking them in excitement. You and Jungkook share a sideways glance and have to suppress a laugh. 

“When did this happen? How long have you been dating?” Your mom asks.

Both your faces pale at her question, not thinking far enough ahead to prepare for these types of inquiries.

“Um, we’re not,” you tell her. 

“What do you mean, you’re not? How did you get pregnant then?”

Jungkook awkwardly clears his throat and messes with the collar of his shirt as tension fills the room. Never in a million years did you think you’d be talking about your and Jungkook’s sexscapades with your moms. 

“We just hooked up, a one time thing,” you answer. 

“So, you’re not together?” His mom wonders. You both shake your heads, hating the look of disappointment that crosses their features. “Are you gonna try?”

“Maybe… maybe one day, Mom,” Jungkook answers. “But right now we just wanna focus on being the best parents we can be.” 

They reluctantly accept his answer before moving onto all the nitty gritty details like asking when your next appointment is, if you’re going to find out the gender, etc. 

The four of you eat dinner together but unfortunately, your dads are away on a fishing trip together, so you don’t get to tell them the news tonight. Your moms promise to relay their reactions to you through the phone upon their return. 

With your parents out of the way, your friends are up next to bat, but you don’t expect that announcement to go as well as this one. 

Your first gynecologist appointment is the following week, and you and Jungkook both take the day off from work so you can go together. It’s pretty nerve wracking, but you’re mostly excited to see the first ultrasound pictures of your little peanut. 

Jungkook drives you to the appointment in his black Mercedes Benz and it lowkey makes you feel like his knocked up sugar baby. He didn’t grow up with money, so he’s still humble, but he definitely enjoys splurging on his choice of car, if anything. It’s certainly not a bad thing to be having a kid with someone who’s financially well off, but you hate taking advantage of Jungkook’s wealth even when he offers. 

He reverses the car into a parking spot, his arm moving to the headrest behind you as he looks over his shoulder to fit in the space. Upon exiting the car, you come around the hood where Jungkook is waiting for you with his hand out. You take it without a second thought and lace his fingers with yours as you walk into the dauntingly large medical building together. 

Your foot rapidly taps against the elevator as it inches up to the third floor. When the doors open after what feels like an eternity, the office can only be described as a haven for expecting mothers.

Everywhere in sight there are women with swollen bellies of varying degrees, most of them accompanied by their doting partners. As you scan the room, you notice one thing in common with almost all of them; they all have big, shiny rings on their fingers. 

You pout instinctually, green envy coating your insides. It’s not as though you’ve been hunting for a husband, it’s honestly been the last thing on your mind, but you’d be lying if you said you aren’t jealous they have spouses and you have a baby daddy. You love Jungkook, more than anything in the world, and there isn’t anyone else you can imagine having a kid with, but it’s not the same as these men and women looking at their pregnant partners like they hung the stars in the sky. 

Jungkook notices your unintentional scowl and tugs on your hand to grab your attention. He raises an eyebrow at you, but you just shake your head and proceed towards the reception desk. 

“Hi, an appointment under Jeon,” you tell the woman behind the desk. You hear Jungkook make a noise of curiosity from beside you. “Figured we should do everything under the baby’s last name, it’s simpler that way.”

“The baby’s gonna have my last name?” 

His eyes sparkle with wonder and your heart soars.

“Yeah, you’re the dad, Koo.”

“I know, but I thought since we aren’t together —”

“No,” you cut him off. “It’s baby Jeon, a hundred percent.” 

He smiles so big his eyes disappear and his bunny teeth make an appearance. You roll your eyes affectionately before turning your attention back to the receptionist as she hands you a clipboard with some paperwork to complete.  

Both of you have to call your respective mothers at one point while filling out the extensive medical history forms. Once the twenty or so pages are complete, Jungkook returns it to the receptionist before joining you again in the waiting room. You sit with identical bouncing knees as the minutes tick by in heavy anticipation.

When your name is finally called, the two of you leap up and hurry over to the nurse who’ll lead you to the observation room.

They take some vitals, draw your blood for the formal pregnancy test, and go over the paperwork, getting the more mundane, administrative details out the way before handing you a gown and instructing you to lay down for the ultrasound. 

Jungkook excitedly rubs his palms together and stomps his feet when the nurse leaves and you get ready to see your baby for the first time. 

Ever the gentleman, he looks everywhere but at you as you strip to put the gown on, which is so adorable you almost combust. He put a baby in you and yet he’s respectful enough to look away when you undress in front of him, what a fucking doll. 

Your feet tap an unknown melody against the stirrups as you wait and Jungkook scrolls on his phone absentmindedly. The doctor alerts you with a short knock before opening the door and popping her head in.

“Hi, you guys,” she greets you. She shakes Jungkook’s hand and then yours before rolling a stool over to sit between your legs. “How are you both doing?”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Good, good,” she smiles. “So, great news, you are indeed pregnant! Based on your hormone levels it looks like you’re about eight weeks along.”

Even though you know the exact date and time your baby was conceived, the sensual moment permanently etched into your memory, and it’s impossible to be anything else besides divine intervention, you still sigh in relief over everything lining up as it should. 

“Before we get to the ultrasound, I just want to go over a couple things that I always do with new parents, alright?” 

“Sure,” you agree with a smile. 

“Okay, we won’t be discussing labor and delivery until you’re a little farther along because there’s a lot to take in at first and it can be pretty overwhelming,” she explains. “I just want to make sure you both are in a good place, have everything you need from me, and availability to any resources you may need during this time.” She looks at you expectantly and you nod your head to convey you understand. “Alright, so tell me a little bit about yourselves.”

You gesture towards Jungkook and he points to his chest with his hand. When you nod, he clears his throat and sits up straighter.

“Hi, Jungkook, she calls me Koo,” he starts. “I’m a head video game designer and have a house just outside the city. I have a Doberman named Bam. I box in my free time… not sure what else you need to know.”

“No, that’s great,” she reassures him. She turns her attention to you.

“I’m Y/N, but he calls me Bambi, and don’t ask, we can’t remember why,” you laugh. “I’m an administrative assistant and rent an apartment in the city and have a munchkin cat named Usagi. In my free time I read, mostly.”

“So, you two don’t live together?” You both shake your heads. “Are you exes, just haven’t moved in together yet, something else?” 

“Best friends,” you tell her. Then, because it’s confusing for most people that you’re pregnant with your best friend’s baby, you continue. “We decided to have some fun one night and now we’re gonna be having fun together for the next 18 years.”

She laughs lightheartedly at your story.

“Alright, I like the sound of that. You’re supposed to be going through this with your best friend, anyway,” she says. “How long have you known one another?”

“I was strapped in a baby carrier to my mom’s chest in the hospital room while she was being born,” Jungkook states.

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah,” you add.

“Well, that’s great, you two! You’ve got a long history together and that can only make for wonderful teamwork.”

There are some more details you discuss regarding the first trimester and the vitamins you’ll be taking. You go over the common symptoms for this time frame and how best to remedy them. Once that’s settled, she finally pulls out the ultrasound machine and you get jittery just from the sight. You’re so eager to see your baby and when Jungkook joins you by your side, he radiates the same energy. He’s sitting to your left now and you bend your arm up to hold his hand. Jungkook smiles at your actions and clasps his hand around yours with a tight squeeze. 

Jumping when you feel the cool gel on your skin, you ignore the novel sensation and wait impatiently for the image of your baby to appear on the monitor. 

Before you see anything, a steady, rhythmic thumping plays throughout the room. 

You and Jungkook gasp in unison.

“And that’s a heartbeat,” the doctor says with a big smile. 

Jungkook rests his head on yours and your free hand wraps around to tousle his hair affectionately. 

The visual on the screen doesn’t make much sense at first, but then the doctor pauses her movements along your abdomen and clicks the keyboard to take some still shots. 

“So, this is your baby,” she says while pointing to the small peanut shape amongst all the black and white fuzziness. “They’re about the size of a kidney bean right now.”

“A kidney bean!” Jungkook cheers. “How flippin’ cute.”

You giggle while glancing back at him. His starry eyes are shining and glossy while he admires the monitor showing him his future child.

“Are you two going to find out the gender? That will happen at your twelve-week follow up.”

“No, we’re gonna keep it a surprise,” you answer. 

“Great choice, it’s always so fun that way.”

She points out a couple more things on the ultrasound before turning the machine off and printing the pictures she took, making sure to print two copies so you and Jungkook can each have one. 

When you peek at him once the doctor leaves so you can get dressed, he’s staring at the photos while his thumb gently traces over the shiny paper right where your baby is. You feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes, but keep them under control with a sniffle and scrunch of your nose.

TWO

You have two main friend groups, one which is mutual with Jungkook, consisting of six other guys and three girls besides yourself, and another group of all girls, four of them in addition to you. Sometimes you mix the groups, and they all get along just fine, some better than others, wink wink, but usually you see them on separate occasions. 

Tonight is monthly wine night with your girls, which, of course, you won’t be partaking in, although you plan on faking it. 

You’re unsure about telling your friends just yet. It’s been nice having this sweet little secret just between you and Jungkook, thoroughly enjoying the whispers of excitement you share as you admire your miniature baby bump together. Of course, that enthusiasm is shared between you and your mothers who message you daily for updates. 

The bump forming over your womb isn’t noticeable in the slightest unless you’re wearing something abhorrently tight, and even then, you look bloated at best. So, you can easily get away with hiding your little bundle of joy for a few more weeks. 

It’s a fact the girls will be absolutely ecstatic for you and completely supportive, so it’s not fear holding you back. Maybe judgment? The circumstances of your pregnancy are far from ordinary and you don’t want a lecture from anyone regarding your questionable choices. Your friends adore Jungkook, since they’ve known him as long as they’ve known you, and they’re fully aware of how wonderful he is, but being a friend and being a father are two very different things and it wouldn’t be totally unreasonable for them to have doubts.

Grabbing some wine to pass from the corner store, you drive to Nayeon’s place just up the road. The five of you rotate hosts monthly and tonight is her night. You won’t have the pleasure of hosting again for another four months since your turn was last month. You’re bringing wine along to keep suspicions to a minimum, and you plan on filling your glass with some sparkling grape juice you also snagged. 

When you arrive, Jihyo and Mina are standing by their cars cackling at something on their phones. As you exit and lock your car with a click, you wave and approach the laughing banshees with a smile.

Their faces shine bright when they see you and enthusiastically return the wave.

“Bitch, it’s only been a month and I missed you so fucking much,” Mina cries as she pulls you in for a crippling hug. 

“Are you drunk already?” You question due to her out of character language and how she’s slumping against you.

“Nooo.”

“Don’t worry, I drove her here,” Jihyo, ever the mom friend, assures you. 

You enter Nayeon’s apartment as a trio, her door already unlocked for the occasion, as you update each other on surface level things like work and hobbies. 

Nayeon and Tzuyu are in the kitchen with a glass of wine already in hand while they gossip about something. You know they’re gossiping because their expressions are dramatically shuffling through different emotions like shock, confusion, and disgust. 

They wave excitedly when they notice your entrance and quickly finish their conversation before joining you. 

Jihyo places Mina delicately on the couch and instructs her to stay still so she can grab her a glass of water. You follow Jihyo into the kitchen, peering over your shoulder at your other friend who’s now lackadaisically swaying side to side.

“Ji, why is Mina drunk off her ass right now?” 

Jihyo sighs as she grabs a cup and glances towards the living room to visually check on the topic of your conversation. 

“Her and Mingyu broke up.”

“No!” You gasp, your hands covering your mouth in disbelief. “Did he dump her?”

“She won’t tell me! She just sits on my bed and cries for hours.”

Jihyo and Mina are roommates, but Mina has been hoping to move in with Mingyu for a while now and was merely waiting for him to ask.

“Oh no, my poor girl.”

“I’m hoping tonight will help and maybe she’ll finally open up about what happened,” Jihyo says. “You wanna try my wine?”

“Oh, no, I’ve got my own,” you tell her and show off the bottle of fake alcohol you peeled the label off of. 

She recognizes your answer with a nod before heading back to Mina. By the time you return with her water she’s relaying the information to Nayeon and Tzuyu through tears and slurred sentences. 

You hug Tzuyu from behind and she warmly wraps her arms around your own to reciprocate the affection. After repeating the embrace with Nayeon, you take a seat on her armchair and pour the grape juice into the wine glass she left out for you. 

The five of you update each other like always, since that’s the main purpose of these get-togethers. It’s your sacred time to dive into the messy and dirty details of your lives over the last month.

Mina is unanimously nominated to go first once she’s consumed a couple glasses of water to sober her up a bit. She explains how her and Mingyu, her boyfriend of nearly four years, broke up because he isn’t ready to settle down. Apparently it was mutual, but she’s still head over heels for him and is having a terrible time trying to move on.

The four of you hold her while she cries until eventually, she tires herself out, and you move on to Tzuyu.

The conversation circles through everyone until you’re finally the center of attention. There’s a piece of you that still wants to stow away your secret for a little while longer, but you’re also so excited for them to share in your joy that you can barely stand holding it in.

“Okay, so, technically this happened two wine nights ago, but I wasn’t ready to tell you guys just yet,” you begin. You suck in a breath through your teeth and take a sip of your drink even though there’s no liquid courage in the glass. “Jungkook and I hooked up.”

The gasps from your friends are so loud you think they sucked all the air from the room. 

“No fucking way.”

“I freaking knew it would happen one day!”

“Oh my God?”

“Please tell me he’s got a big dick, I just know he has a big dick.”

You laugh into your glass at the multitude of different reactions before continuing. Sighing in content remembrance, you lean forward and rest your elbows on your knees.

“He’s. Fucking. Huge.”

Somehow, their gasps this time are even louder. 

“No, no, you need to spill right fucking now. I want every dirty fucking detail, baby,” Nayeon says.

“There honestly isn’t that much to tell. We were watching a movie, he brought it up, it happened, bada-bing bada-boom,” you state.

“Are you two together now?” Jihyo asks.

“No,” you shake your head. “We just wanted to see what it was like, you know?”

“Bitch,” Tzuyu scoffs. “You just told us your ungodly handsome, sweet, filthy rich, jacked as fuck best friend has a huge dick and you’re gonna look at me and say it was a one time thing?”

“You guys know it’s not like that with us,” you respond. “I love him, like, with everything in me, and obviously, I know how attractive he is, but I don’t get butterflies around him or think about him first thing in the morning.” You sit back in the chair. “The love I have for him is so much greater than romantic love. I mean, never say never, but we’re both completely content with the way we are.” 

“Hear hear,” Jihyo says with a clink of her nails against her glass. 

Nibbling on your lip, you count the bubbles floating in your drink as you decide whether or not you’re ready for the actual reveal.

“There is… more, though,” you quietly admit. Everyone leans in and you shake your head back and forth to prepare for the biggest confession you’ll ever make to them. “I’m pregnant.”

The gasps this time are so volatile two of them start coughing and Jihyo walks her ass straight out of the room with a hand over her mouth. 

“Shut the fuck up right now,” Nayeon snaps. 

“He knocked you up?” Mina’s drunk ass shouts. 

“Mmhmm.”

“Are you… happy about that?” Tzuyu tentatively asks. 

The massive grin forming on your face reveals your answer before you can give it, and you start nodding overdramatically while you giggle. 

“Oh my God! You’re pregnant!” Tzuyu cheers now that she’s aware of your excitement.

“You’re gonna be a mom!” Nayeon claps.

“We’re gonna be aunts!” Mina adds. 

Jihyo returns to the room with fresh tears on her cheeks.

“Ji,” you coo at her. 

She hiccups out a weak chuckle as she pulls you into her for a bear hug. The other girls follow suit and surround you until the five of you are basically cuddling in the middle of Nayeon’s living room. Suddenly, someone starts jumping and the force shakes the floorboards as you all join in and chant “yay yay yay” on repeat. 

The whimsicality of girlhood never fails to paint a smile on your face.

The following weekend you have plans with your other friend group. You usually rotate through a few different activities you all enjoy and tonight is karaoke, which is one of your personal favorites. 

Jungkook gets ready at your place so you can eat dinner together beforehand since the food at the karaoke bar is stupidly overpriced. He never fails to remind you he can afford it and is more than willing to pay for your meal, but you don’t like using his money unless it’s absolutely necessary. You’re a big girl who can pay for herself and he understands your desire for independence.

You’re at the vanity finishing your makeup when he enters with another bowl of rice he grabbed after finishing your meal. He takes up purchase on your bed and eats absentmindedly while his eyes follow the movement of your wrist coating your lashes in mascara.

The feeling of his stare creates goosebumps on your skin and an involuntary smile appears in the mirror. No doubt your foundation hides the blush springing forth as well.

“You look pretty, Bams,” he compliments. 

“Thank you!”

The now empty bowl meets your nightstand with a clank as he moves to stand beside you. He leans down until you’re side by side in the mirror and gives you his cheesiest smile. You snort at his antics and continue to giggle while dropping your mascara into the pile of other makeup tools. 

“Cute,” you tell him. 

He smiles successfully and extends his hands towards you. You graciously accept his offer and stand to your full height. Just as you’re heading for your closet to grab shoes, Jungkook ensnares your wrist and eyes you hopefully. Raising an eyebrow at his actions, you wait for him to speak his mind.

“Can I see it?” 

The eye roll is automatic at this point.

“Koo, my baby bump is not any bigger than it was a few days ago. It’s barely a bump as is! I could eat pasta and grow bigger than I am now,” you tell him.

“It doesn’t matter, I just like knowing they’re in there,” he says with a huge smile. “My little kidney bean.”

“They’re a plum now, remember?” 

Jungkook just stares you down expectantly rather than responding. Begrudgingly, but still with a smile on your face, you push your jacket away so he can see the barely noticeable hump over your abdomen. He giggles, his feet taking turns leaving the floor, and places both hands on you, caressing your womb ever so gently. 

“My little plum,” he sighs happily. 

You're so utterly endeared by him and his nature that it makes you sick. 

Once Jungkook is done holding the little plum, you leave to meet your friends at the karaoke bar. 

Throughout the drive you discuss whether or not to announce the pregnancy to your friends. Jungkook knows you told the girls, and was unnecessarily smug about their interest in his size, but your mutual friends are another animal entirely. 

Everyone met at one point or another during college and by graduation you’d become one massive, conjoined group of lovable idiots. All eleven of you are extremely close, even if the bonds you share are unique to each individual pair. You know things about one another no one else does and they’re always the first people you tell about good news.

Jungkook is more anxious than you about telling them, especially since he’s yet to let the cat out of the bag to anyone besides your parents. He’s the youngest among the boys and his biggest fear is disappointing them. Not that they would be, because even though they're a group of seven men, they’re the kindest people in the world, but Jungkook’s always been sensitive about their opinion of him because he idolizes them so much.

By the time you reach the bar you’ve mutually agreed to hold off for now and proceed to exit the car together. Jungkook instinctively places his hand on your lower back as you walk in and a hostess tells you which room your friends occupy.

Upon opening the door to the private karaoke suite, you’re met by the booming sound of cheers from all nine people packed inside. Everyone rises from their seats to hug you one by one before letting you settle into the couch across from the karaoke machine and mini stage. 

“What are you drinking tonight?” Yunjin asks you as she takes the seat to your right.

Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi are already flipping through the songbook next to the stage for the perfect opening song. 

“Can’t, I’m Koo’s designated driver for tonight,” you tell her.

“We’re gonna be here for hours like always, you should have one, at least,” she says.

“Maybe,” you say with an appreciative smile. 

Lying to the people you love most isn’t exactly easy, especially when you already suck at it, but Yunjin seems to take you at your word and returns her focus to the opposite side of the room.

The opening beats of an R&B song fill the air and you turn your attention to the three jackals on stage as they belt their hearts out together. You admire them with a massive grin and are thoroughly impressed by how they manage to make complete fools of themselves while still hitting all the notes. 

The other girls join you sometime during the bridge, Chaewon taking the empty seat by you while Eunchae goes next to Yunjin. Eunchae tells everyone she got a promotion at work, so you clink your glasses together to cheer for her, yours being filled with cola instead of alcohol.

“Here, try my drink, it’s so good!” Chaewon says as she passes the glass to you. You shake your head and tell her the same lie you told Yunjin. Unfortunately, Chaewon is less forgiving than your other friend. “It’s just a sip, girliepop!”

You shoot her a warning glance, and luckily, the two other women are distracted by Namjoon and Jin’s soulful duet on stage. Due to your decade long friendship, you and Chaewon share the unique ability to speak without any words, and your silent conversation goes something like this.

You, glaring at her with your head tilted. Don’t.

Her, sitting back a little with her eyebrows raised. Bitch?

You, nodding minutely a couple times. Yup.

Her, eyes wide with a hand on her chest. You’re pregnant?

You, nodding while staring her down. Can you fucking believe it?

Her, brow creasing and slowly shaking her head. Who the fuck is the dad?

You, holding up a hand to block the view from the others while pointing at Jungkook who’s sitting across the room. Jungkook.

Her, hand over her mouth, eyes bulging out of her head. You’re fucking joking! 

So, that’s how Chaewon finds out, and your final signal to her is your pointer finger pressing against your lips so she knows this is still a massive secret.

Jungkook and Taehyung take the stage next, and they’re always an entertaining pair, so you both pay close attention. It’s debatable whether that was a good decision, because the rest of you end up with aching cramps from the intense fits of laughter. You're all desperately clutching your stomachs as the two of them jump around and sing in each other’s faces to a song that does not call for that type of choreography. You’re 99% sure it’s a breakup song from a K-Drama. 

You’re still wiping the tears from your eyes when Eunchae speaks up breathlessly.

“God, I don’t know why, but this reminds me of when the boys performed in the university talent show,” she states.

“Oh shit, I totally forgot about that,” Yunjin responds.

“Wait, what are you guys talking about?” Jimin says as he sits next to Yunjin.

“Don’t you remember? You guys wore those hockey jerseys and covered that 90s song,” you tell him. “It was so good!”

Jin nods from the other side of the couch and starts laughing as he remembers the performance.

“That was so long ago! I remember it being super fun, though,” he says.

“Please don’t bring that up, that was the most embarrassing day of my life,” Yoongi groans.

“Oh please, Min, you secretly loved it,” Chaewon teases him.

You gasp when you realize it’s definitely still stored somewhere in your phone. Pulling the device out of your pocket, you scoot over so Jungkook can sit next to you while you scroll through your camera roll from almost ten years ago. Taehyung joins you and leans over Jungkook’s shoulder to see as well. 

“Found it!” You squeal.

Unable to resist reliving the memory, everyone gathers behind you to watch. Your previous fits of laughter make a gnarly comeback as you marvel at the younger versions of them dancing and singing their little hearts out. They look like babies in comparison and it makes you swoon.

“That was literally another lifetime,” Namjoon says once the video is done playing.

“Man, we were so fucking cool,” Hoseok states proudly.

“Jungkook, you should wear your hair like that again,” Yunjin says. “You looked fucking hot.”

“Fuck yeah he did, rumor has it Kook lost his virginity that night,” Taehyung jokes as he squeezes Jungkook’s bicep.

“Yo! Shut the hell up, I lost my virginity in high school,” Jungkook retorts. He takes a swig of his drink and chuckles against the glass. “It was the first time I fucked raw, though.”

“Clearly not the last,” you say under your breath.

Jungkook turns to you with his eyes bugging out and you have to stifle your laugh with your hand. Resting your forehead on his shoulder, you gain control of your laughter and whisper a halfhearted apology to him. 

“Ok, girlies, let’s fuck this shit up,” Chaewon annonces. 

Yunjin and Eunchae both chug the last of their drinks before grabbing each of your hands so you can take the stage together. You diligently flip through the songbook to find the perfect one while the guys converse about a recent video game release. Gasping when you spot a familiar song title, you point to the page and eye the girls with a mischievous smirk.

“Wait, don’t we know the dance for this?” Yunjin asks.

You and Eunchae nod together. 

“Oh, we are gonna leave these men fucking gagged,” Chaewon states before plugging the selection into the karaoke machine. 

Chaewon hits the nail on the head, because as soon as the song begins and you start shaking your asses like a bonafide girl group, the men go insane. The seven of them act like they’re your biggest stans who paid for a ticket just to see this. 

Hoseok and Jimin stand to the right of the stage throwing invisible money over you all, while Taehyung and Jungkook are sitting on the end couch spanking the air back and forth. Yoongi is covering his eyes with his hand while he shakes his head, but he’s still peeking at your performance between his fingers. Namjoon is bent over with his elbows on his knees and his hands under his chin like he’s trying to analyze the way your asses bounce. Jin stands with a glass in each hand as he dances along and screams your names in a repeating chant at the top of his lungs. 

When you finish the show stopping performance, all of them are almost as breathless as you from cheering so much. 

“Fuck, why am I hard right now?”

“That was spectacular.”

“You guys were so good!”

“I think I just came.”

“Amazing, bravo.”

“Encore!”

“Remind me why we’re all just friends?”

All four of you are panting as you hop off the stage and attempt to slow your racing heartbeats. Jimin notices you don’t have a drink and goes to hand his glass of vodka cranberry to you.

“Here, you look like you could use this.”

Just as you’re about to wave him off and reject his offer, Chaewon interrupts. 

“Y/N can’t have alcohol,” she states. 

Eyes blowing wide, you glare and wordlessly scold her with your facial expressions, throwing your hands up incredulously for good measure. Poor Jungkook looks like a deer in headlights since you didn’t get the chance to tell him she knows.

“Why not?” Yoongi asks from across the table.

“Are you okay? Nothing’s wrong, right?” Yunjin adds.

“No, no,” you answer with a nonchalant wave of your hand. “Just this new medication I’m on.”

“Which one? Prenatal vitamins?” Eunchae jokes as she takes a drink. Your lip catches between your teeth as you look at her with wide, worrisome eyes. Her expression shifts into shock when she notices your face over the rim of her glass. “Holy fuck, I was joking. Y/N, are you pregnant?”

“Um… yes?” 

The eight people in the room who weren’t previously aware inhale simultaneously to berate you with questions, but are all stopped short by Taehyung speaking first.

“Who the fuck put a baby in you?” 

Gnawing on your lip as your mind scrambles for an answer, your eyes flit to Jungkook for support, but his face is paler than a ghost. You reluctantly accept your fate and sigh in defeat. 

“J… Ju… Jungkook did.”

All hell breaks loose. 

You’re fighting off Eunchae, Yunjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok with your hands up in surrender as you vigorously shake your head back and forth. Jungkook is slowly sinking into his seat with his arms out in defense as Jimin, Taehyung, Jin, and Yoongi descend on him like a pack of ravenous wolves. Everyone’s screaming voices are louder than any of the singing tonight and if someone took a picture of the room it could only be classified as a goddamn renaissance painting.

Once the initial shock wears off and Jungkook finally comes to his senses, he shakes his head to collect his thoughts and stands up.

“Everyone, shut the fuck up! My bun is in that oven and I don’t need you assholes stunting their growth with your screaming,” he shouts. 

“Oh, please don’t refer to me as an oven, Koo,” you grimace.

“I didn’t mean it that way, Bams.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Hey!” Eunchae interrupts you. “Lovebirds, you wanna fucking tell us how you got knocked up?” 

Jungkook clears his throat. 

“Well, Eunnie, you see, when a mommy and daddy love each other very mu — AH!”

Jungkook’s mock explanation is cut short by him ducking to avoid the couch pillow Eunchae chucks at his head. 

“Be fucking for real, Jeon. Why is your demon spawn in my best friend?” 

“Hey, don’t talk about our little plum like that,” Jungkook frowns. 

“Little plum?” Jimin and Taehyung speak in unison. 

Jungkook sighs dreamily before responding. 

“That’s how big they are right now.”

“It just happened!” You state. “We just fucked for shits and gigs and now we’re here.”

“You let Jungkook come in you for shits and gigs?” Hoseok asks with his signature face of judgement.

The implications of his tone make you pout and cross your arms over your chest.

“Yes, and it was very enjoyable, thank you very much.”

“Oh, ew.”

“For real?”

“Ah, fuck no.”

Chaewon fake gags with a finger in her mouth. 

“Wait, wait,” Namjoon steps into the center of the room. “How is this gonna work? Are you two gonna co-parent? Switch off houses every other week?”

“I… don’t know,” you answer honestly before looking at Jungkook. He shrugs with his arms out, clearly just as clueless about those details as you. “We haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“Are you gonna find out the gender?” Chaewon asks excitedly, but you quickly shake your head and she frowns. “How am I supposed to get my future niece or nephew the perfect gift if I don’t know their gender?”

“Gender neutral?” You suggest. 

You hear Jin exhale overdramatically and when you look towards him he’s downing a shot and slamming the glass down afterwards. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He shakes his head and his lips make a horse-like noise. “I mean, we’re talking about Jungkook and Y/N having a baby… a motherfucking child.”

“Yeah, and they’re gonna be the best parents ever,” Yoongi states wholeheartedly. 

Yoongi finds your eyes across the room, his adorable gummy smile on full display, and reaffirms his words with a nod. You return the smile gratefully, thanking him with a slow blink as you hold his eye contact. 

“Are you alright? I mean, like, you’re good?” Yunjin asks you. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, especially now that you guys know.”

“What about you, Kook?” Taehyung asks from where he sits beside him. 

Jungkook looks over his shoulder at his friend, the biggest, bunniest grin imaginable on his face.

“I’m fucking ecstatic,” he answers. 

Jimin takes two large strides and hugs Jungkook’s head to his chest, ruffling his hair affectionately. Hoseok joins in next, squishing Jungkook’s cheeks between his hands and giving him adorable fish lips.

“Our Jungkookie is gonna be a dad!” Hoseok coos in his best baby voice. 

Your attention is pulled away by Yunjin’s hand on your lower back. She smiles when you turn around and pulls you into a powerful embrace which you reciprocate. Eunchae and Chaewon join the hug and you rest your head on Chaewon’s shoulder. You know how hard she is on herself whenever she screws up, and this is your way of letting her know it’s alright.

When you part, you feel a tug on your hand, and before you know it Jungkook is bringing you into his lap. You giggle as he tucks you into his chest and nuzzles his face in your neck. 

There’s a brief moment where it feels as though it’s just you and him, and it’s more needed than you even realized. Jungkook’s recognizably warm presence calming you down after the hectic atmosphere of the room took you for a loop.

Everyone moseys around to take a seat as the adrenaline from the news simmers. The eleven of you actually do some catching up rather than just singing and drinking, and eventually smaller faction conversations happen all around the table.  

You stay on Jungkook’s lap the rest of the night with his hand resting on the outside of your thigh to keep you against him.

It’s abnormal behavior for you two, usually keeping a rather firm boundary of friendship, the time you conceived a child together aside, but you don’t question it. Maybe it’s the child in your womb wanting to be close to their father or perhaps the uptick in hormones skewing your regular emotional landscape. Either way, Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind your weight on him and neither do you. 

By the time the clock strikes two in the morning, and you’ve all gone a couple more rounds on the karaoke machine, your head is resting on Jungkook’s shoulder as you flicker in and out of consciousness. He soothingly rubs your spine with his hand, making sure to add more pressure to your lower back where it’s been hurting ever since becoming pregnant. Curling into him more in response, you push your face into his neck and hum contently at the familiar scent and warmth. 

“You tired, Bams?” He whispers to you, moving some hair away from your face. You answer with a single nod, your eyes already closing again from the heaviness of sleep. “Okay, let’s go.”

Jungkook helps you stand, and you hug all your friends goodbye one by one. Everyone congratulates you both again while also threatening to show up to your homes univinted unless you update them on your progress between hangouts.

Jimin changes your group chat name that very night to: Baby Jeon Official Updates Channel 💦🤭👶🏻💕

You and Jungkook leave hand-in-hand, mostly because he has to keep you upright from how tired you are. He drives back to his place since it’s closer and he doesn’t like the idea of leaving you alone when you’re this sleepy. God forbid you accidentally fall asleep on Usagi and crush her all night long. The car ride is brief, but it’s smooth enough that you fall asleep in the passenger seat almost instantly. 

Jungkook carries you inside instead of waking you up, knowing you need more rest nowadays than usual. Although, if he’s being honest, pregnant with his child or not, he’d still carry you and tuck you into bed.

When you wake up in Jungkook’s spare bedroom/home office the next morning, you’re thoroughly confused, but as your sleepiness begins to wane you remember the end of the night and the events which led you here. The smell of pancakes encourages you to walk down the stairs to Jungkook’s kitchen. You’re still wrapped in his comforter when you enter and Jungkook laughs as you approach him like the Queen of bedtime. 

“Morning, Bambi,” he greets you as he flips the final pancake onto the plate and turns off the griddle. 

“Good morning,” you say with a tired smile. 

Just then, the sound of trampling paws comes barreling towards you. Smiling broadly as you turn towards the sound, you bend down to greet the adorable Doberman who’s wagging his tail in excitement at seeing you.

“Bammie!” You cheer as you pet behind his ears. “Oh, I’ve missed you, my good boy.” 

He runs around your legs a couple times before scurrying across the hardwood to bring you a bone to throw. You happily oblige him and watch in amusement as he runs away to fetch it before plopping on the couch to gnaw on the toy.

“Come eat, Bams,” Jungkook tells you as he sets two plates on his dining table. 

Following his orders, you leave the comforter over the back of the couch and sit across from him to eat the eggs, pancakes, and bacon he made for you both. You eat in comfortable silence for a while until you’re both nearly done.

“Koo, I’m sorry about last night. Chaewon guessed it and then her big mouth spilled the beans. I know it wasn’t the way we wanted it to happen, but at least it’s over with, right?” 

“It’s alright,” Jungkook responds before gulping down his orange juice. “I’m glad we finally did it and now everyone knows. Plus, it got me thinking about some stuff I hadn’t really thought about yet.”

“Like what?”

“Well, about what Namjoon hyung said,” he explains. “I mean, he makes a really good point. I want our kid to have a normal family life even if we’re just best friends and not romantic partners.”

“What do you think we should do?”

“I think you should move in with me.”

You choke on your orange juice. 

Truthfully, there isn’t anything shocking about his statement, you just weren’t expecting it at that moment. Jungkook has a three bedroom, two and a half bath house which he owns, while you rent a one bedroom apartment. He’s been begging you ever since he bought the property to move into his spare bedroom. The two of you spend almost all your time together anyway and he doesn’t see the point in you wasting money on rent when his house is completely paid off. 

The reason you haven’t accepted his offer before is because you never want to take advantage of his wealth or be a burden on him. Being best friends is one thing, being roommates is another. 

Now, though, you have a biological right to be a burden on him because he stuck a baby in you. 

“Are you sure?” You ask him.

“Of course I am,” he replies in a heartbeat. “I thought about it all last night and it only makes sense. I have two extra bedrooms, one for you and one for the baby.” 

“But what about your home office and your gym?”

“I can move my gym equipment to the garage and my desk can easily fit in my bedroom.” You sigh and push your fork around your plate as you contemplate his proposal. “Bams, you’re gonna be the mother of my child, will you just let me take care of you for once?”

As soon as you look into his starry eyes, you know there’s no chance you’ll say no. Jungkook obviously wants to do this because he loves you and wants to make sure you and the baby have everything you need, so who are you to say no?

“Okay,” you agree. “When should I move in?”

THREE

The cardboard box in your hands is slowly slipping from your grasp as you ascend the stairs, but you’re determined to make it to the top before readjusting. You have to reach the landing before Jungkook catches you. If he sees you disobeying his instruction of sitting still, he’ll definitely blow a gasket. 

You don’t know what it is with men and thinking pregnant women can’t do anything themselves. It’s still only the first trimester, and sure, your bump has grown some more, but you aren’t completely useless. 

Honestly, if you weren’t so stubborn, you would’ve taken his offer of moving all the boxes into the house by himself, but your competitive nature has you lugging a box of cat toys up the stairs instead. 

“Bambi! What did I fucking say?”

Dropping the box by your feet only three steps from the top, you blow your hair away from your face and place your hands on your hips.

“Fuck you, Jungkook. I do what I want.”

“You wanna look me in the eyes when you say that?” 

“… No.”

“That’s what I thought.” The sound of his combat boots coming up the stairs is all you hear as he moves to steal the box from your feet. Once it’s secure in his arms, he looks at you like a teacher scolding their student and gestures to the couch with his head. “Go sit down.”

“I’m not incapable, you know?” You say with your arms crossed. 

“I know that, Bams,” Jungkook states. “It’s not about that. I lift more than this in a single workout at the gym. Why should you have to do it when I’m perfectly capable?”

He’s right. You know that, he knows that, so you leave him alone on the steps to sit down on the couch with a huff. 

Bam quickly joins you and lays his head in your lap as he watches his dad move back and forth through the house with curious eyes. Scratching behind his ear, you laugh at the way his tail repeatedly whacks the couch as it wags. 

Usagi is still in her carrier in your new bedroom since you want to make sure everything is moved in before introducing her and Bam. You and Jungkook both agree that if they get in a fight, it’s her little munchkin ass who will be the main aggressor, especially since Bam is scared of his own shadow. 

Once Jungkook’s done moving the last of the boxes, he flops aggressively into the armchair next to the couch. He pats his thigh and Bam instantly leaves your side to jump into his lap instead. Jungkook leans down to kiss his precious pup before letting his head fall back as he tries to catch his breath.

“Perfectly capable, huh?” 

“Shut up.”

“You’re getting old, Koo. Soon you’re gonna be a dad and you’ll have a beer gut —”

“Nuh uh, never gonna happen. I’ll have my abs until the day I die,” he corrects you.

“Please, no you will not. You think you’re gonna be hitting the gym at 80?” You ask as you lean forward in your seat.

“Yes. My love comes from my abs, I can’t lose them,” he states.

The couch cushion indents where your head falls against it as you laugh heartily. 

“What? Your love comes from your abs? What the hell does that even mean?” 

“Everyone I meet loves my abs, so now they’re just like, full of love, and that’s where it comes from,” he explains unironically.

“Everyone? I don’t think that’s true,” you say with a smirk.

“No?” Jungkook gently guides Bam away and struts over to you. “You’re gonna look at me and tell me you don’t love my abs? That if I took my shirt off right now you wouldn’t go all googly-eyed?”

“Fuck, no,” you scoff. 

Jungkook clicks his tongue and then lifts his shirt to engulf you under the fabric. You screech and shove at his waist, kicking your legs haphazardly like you’re being suffocated. 

“Let me out of here!” You scream, but it’s severely muffled by the fabric. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I can’t hear you,” Jungkook teases. “Ow!”

Jungkook immediately frees you and backs away after he feels your teeth sinking into his side. He rubs over the bite mark with a big pout on his face, as if he didn’t start this little charade. 

You mock his expression for a moment before standing to go up the stairs and check on your furry child. Jungkook follows begrudgingly, letting his feet drag along the floor like a petulant child. When you enter your new bedroom, conveniently right beside Jungkook’s, Usagi starts meowing incessantly and scratching at her carrier. You soothe her with some baby speak and check that the door is closed before letting her out. Her little legs immediately bring her to the floor so she can explore the unfamiliar room. 

She meows every couple of seconds whenever she encounters something new and you watch as she headbutts everything in sight as a way of marking the furniture with her scent. Ironically, this is all the same furniture from your old bedroom just in a different space and formation.

Hands wrap around your waist from behind and you sigh at the feeling of Jungkook’s firm chest meeting your back. Obviously, he’s forgiven you for your little retaliatory love bite. 

“I’m really glad you’re here, Bams,” he tells you from where his head rests on your shoulder. 

Your hand reaches behind you to sneak into his hair and scratch at his scalp affectionately. He hums and rests his cheek against your shoulder. You’d argue he picked up the mannerisms from his dog, but he’s always been touchy like this.  

“I’m happy to be here,” you reply. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Those words no longer apply the following day when you’re hunched over Jungkook’s toilet and spilling your guts into the bowl. 

It’s a great unknown why morning sickness is called that when it happens at all hours of the freaking day. You naively believed you snuck past its clutches since you’re already on the brink of your second trimester, but apparently the wonderful symptom was just waiting until you had Jungkook’s big fancy bathroom to throw up in. 

Groaning in agony, you plop back onto the tile and rest your head on the cabinet. Your throat is burning from all the regurgitation, there are popped blood vessels all over your cheeks and forehead, making you look like you have freckles, and salty tears from the effort of repeatedly emptying your stomach are drying on your skin. 

You caress your baby bump with a glare, making a mental note to scold them at least once when they’re older for putting you through this. 

The sound of the front door opening makes your ears twitch. Bam’s heavy footsteps can be heard barreling towards the door and then Jungkook’s voice joins in as he greets his beloved pet. 

“Bambi?”

“In here,” you say through your sore vocal chords. Jungkook’s face appears in the doorway and you whimper as tears fill your eyes again. “I fucking hate you for doing this to me.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen at your current state and he instantly sinks to his knees to pull you into his arms. He holds your head against his chest as you cry from the pain and fatigue of running back and forth to the bathroom all day. Jungkook’s been out running errands all day so you’ve been all alone until now.

“I’m sorry, Bams,” he whispers into your hair. “Wish it was me instead.”

There’s no opportunity for you to reply because the familiar feeling of bile climbing up your throat forces you out of his embrace and back over the toilet. Jungkook grabs your hair, making sure to collect the shorter pieces that cradle your face, and holds it in a makeshift ponytail as he rubs your back. 

Once you’re done, and after the sound of the toilet flushing disperses, you hear soft cries coming from behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you see Jungkook wiping his eyes with his shirtsleeve. 

“Koo,” you call out to him. 

He hiccups and attempts a brave face, smiling at you even as tears slip from his waterline.

“Sorry, you know I hate seeing you in pain,” he explains. 

You frown and turn around to grab his cheeks, brushing the remaining tears away from them. It’s true you’re already well aware of his empathetic nature and have been for as long as you’ve known him. 

“I know,” you say with a smile as you push his hair away from his face. “Remember that time I got bullied in middle school and was crying on the playground, and then you started crying because I was?” Jungkook laughs, his eyes closing as he remembers the moment. “I’ll never forget what you said.” You clear your throat so you can give an accurate representation of his voice. “I never suffer myself, Bambi, I only suffer when I see you suffering.” 

Jungkook smiles big and laughs again at your adorable imitation of his deep timbre. 

“You know, if we have a boy, I’m gonna have to tussle with him over this,” he says. “No one hurts my Bams, not even my own kid.”

Your responding chuckle is strained due to how sore your body is. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bring Jungkook closer for a tight hug, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt. His palm slowly moves up and down your spine in a steady cadence to soothe you until the next wave of nausea comes. 

The remainder of the day is spent in the bathroom together, which is luckily spacious enough for not only you two, but Usagi and Bam who both come to join you at one point.

The nausea comes in waves, sometimes occurring multiple times back to back or alternatively with a large lapse of time between them. It holds you hostage in the bathroom for a few days, and you have to take PTO when the work week begins, but eventually the symptoms simmer to about once every couple days after your doctor prescribes medication. 

Another lovely symptom you’re experiencing as of late is intense cravings for extremely specific food groups, which is why you’re currently in a screaming match with Jungkook over pickles. 

“I’m not buying you pickles, Bambi,” Jungkook sternly states.

“Jungkook, you’re not the one growing a baby inside of you. If I say I want pickles, I should be getting pickles!” You shout, your feet stomping on the ground reactively. 

“You fucking hate pickles!” Jungkook matches your tone.

“Yes, but pregnancy cravings don’t care about what I like or don’t like, and they’re saying they want pickles!”

“You’re not going to eat them, Bams, I know you!”

“Yes, I will!”

“You really want me to leave the house at three in the morning for a vegetable that you despise?” Jungkook scoffs in outrage. “You won’t even eat a sandwich if a pickle was on the plate because you claim you can still taste it!” 

“That doesn’t matter, Koo!”

Jungkook groans and runs his hands down his face before pushing his hair back. 

“I swear to God, Bambi, if I get back here, and you don’t eat that entire fucking jar, I will kick you out of this goddamn house!” 

“No, you won’t, you love me too much,” you brag and stick your tongue out at him.

“Yeah, unfortunately, I do,” Jungkook admits angrily. He grumbles to himself the entire time he’s putting on his slides and slipping on his jacket to drive to the nearest 24 hour convenience store. His hand is on the doorknob when he turns back to say one final comment. “You know what the worst part about this is? Most guys in my position are at least getting some pussy for putting up with this shit, but not me! No reward! I’m doing this out of pure, unconditional love for you!” 

You gawk at his remark, not recognizing the words coming out of his mouth. Jungkook has never in his life asked for anything in return, let alone imply you owe him a sexual favor.

The door slams shut before you can respond, and a cry breaks from your chest as your head falls forward. Bam hears the noise and comes to comfort you, nudging his head up against your leg like the good boy he is, but barely a minute later, his head jerks when he’s distracted by the sound of the door opening. You don’t even get the chance to look up completely before you’re forced into someone’s arms who smells a lot like Jungkook.

“Bams, I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” Jungkook tells you. 

His apology only makes you cry more, shoving your face into his shirt and soaking it with tears. 

“That was so fucked up, Koo,” you sniffle. 

“I know, I’m so sorry,” he replies. “I didn’t mean it, okay? You don’t owe me anything, Bams, especially not that.” He pulls away from you and lifts your face by your chin. “Please don’t think that I, even for a second, ever expect you to repay me for taking care of you. I do it because I love you and that’s the only reward I need.” 

Wiping your tears with your shirtsleeve, you slap his chest a couple times for good measure. He chuckles because of how lightly you smack him.

“You’re forgiven,” you grumble. “Now, can you please go get me these fuckass pickles?”

Jungkook smiles and nods his head, his hand on your chin moving to caress your hair for a moment. 

“I’ll buy you pickles everyday for the rest of your life if that’s what you want, Bambi,” he states. 

“It isn’t. I fucking hate pickles,” you say with a smile. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to your hair before waving goodbye and heading to the store. When he returns twenty minutes later, he’s carrying a couple bags of miscellaneous groceries as well as a jar of pickles. 

You wait patiently for him to place the bags in the kitchen before he hands the open jar to you. The smell alone eases the craving that’s been eating away at your stomach for hours now. Grabbing one of the skewers, you pull it out of the juice and take a small bite off the end. 

Instantly, your brain screams at you in disgust, and you open your mouth again to spit the piece into your hand. Realizing you now have to face Jungkook so he can say I told you so, your eyes screw shut and you turn towards him. Except, when you open your eyes, he isn’t beside you anymore, he’s walking back from the kitchen with your favorite flavor of chips in hand.

“Got these just in case,” he tells you as he swaps out the jar in your hand for the bag. 

You grimace, guilt pooling in your stomach when you realize his trip out into the night was for nought. 

“Koo…”

“It’s alright, Bambi. The fact that I was right makes this all worth it,” he says with a sly grin. 

The chips taste like salty pieces of heaven and you eat the entire bag that night. You keep the jar of pickles for occasional sniffing because, for whatever reason, your brain loves the smell even though it hates the taste. This pregnancy is already messing with your brain chemistry more than you care to admit and it’s only the beginning. 

As the weeks go on, your pregnancy continues to mess with you in the form of a different, but equally as strong, craving. 

It initially hits you while you’re putting together Usagi’s new cat tower in the living room. Thankfully, she and Bam get along just fine. In fact, she’s currently lying on him while they nap together on the other side of the room. 

The instructions for this contraption are annoyingly hard to understand and you’re holding the instructional pamphlet up in the air as you attempt to make out what size screw you need in the stupidly small font it’s written in. 

The sound of the door opening catches your attention. As you lower the paper to see the familiar figure entering the room, your mouth suddenly dries up. 

Jungkook’s coming back from his home gym which is now in the garage and the tips of his hair are drenched in sweat. His chest is rising and falling in deep pants from the intensity of his workout and the black shirt he’s wearing sticks to his chest, perfectly outlining his pecs. Then, much to your agony, he takes the bottom of his shirt and wipes it across his forehead, giving you a perfect view of his abs. 

The feeling that shoots straight into your core is absolutely foreign. Sure, you know Jungkook is hot, that’s a fact of the universe no one is trying to deny. But you’ve seen him shirtless before, hell, you’ve seen him entirely naked. The bump protruding from your womb tells you that much, and yet you’ve never felt turned on by him doing something so mundane.

It makes you question why your body, and more particularly your pussy, is suddenly insatiable and the sight of him is making drool drip from your mouth where it’s fallen open in awe of his physique. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice your change in demeanor as he waves hello before heading upstairs to shower. Once he’s gone, your body releases its tension and you sigh in relief. Although, the feeling doesn’t entirely go away, and you end up spending the rest of the evening uncomfortably horny. 

That very night you take matters into your own hands, literally. You haven’t masturbated since getting pregnant, not for any particular reason other than just not feeling the urge, but now the urge has you in a chokehold and you need to fix it. 

Closing your eyes and slinking comfortably into your sheets, you pull your shorts and panties off in one go before trailing your hand down to your core. You’re still wet from earlier, no doubt because you saw Jungkook in all his post workout glory. The image of him wiping the sweat from his brow with his shirt is still on your mind when your fingers dip between your folds. 

A quiet moan escapes as you move your leaking essence around with your fingertips. It’s been more than three months since you’ve felt any sort of sexual pleasure, the night you spent with Jungkook being the last time. 

Your eyes roll as you play with yourself by switching between pushing your fingers into your cunt and circling your clit. The squelching sound helps to turn you on, but the entire time all you can think is that it isn’t enough. It barely scratches the surface of your sexual need and is a sorry excuse for pleasure after what you Jungkook made you feel. 

Huffing in frustration, you shut your eyes again and try to forget about the world around you, but it’s only when you think back to earlier today that your pleasure spikes and you moan again. 

Realizing what the trick is, you begrudgingly let your imagination, or more so your memory, run rampant. You think back to that night and the way Jungkook’s lips felt against yours, and the way his cock penetrated you so deep you were seeing stars. The memory of his deep voice in your ear makes you moan exuberantly. Your hand falls into a quick rhythm as all the memories come flooding back. Everything about that night sends you closer to the edge of ecstasy. His weight above you, the heat of his skin, his taste, his moans and grunts, the way he fills you up. All of it forces you to bite down on your fist and cry when your orgasm overwhelms you.

The aftershocks of your pleasure have you panting as you come down from the high. You feel immense relief now that your desire is satiated after a long day of feeling your thighs twitch. Pulling your hand away, you stand to wash your hands so you can finally get some rest. 

Hopefully, this symptom will eventually disappear like the others and you won’t be riddled with sexual cravings through the entirety of your pregnancy. 

The next morning you’re pouring yourself a cup of tea to drink before heading to work. Jungkook comes skipping down the stairs in his business casual attire, his sleeves partially rolled up to reveal his tattoos. You wave to him and push the cup of coffee you poured for him across the counter.

“Thanks, Bams,” he says with a squeeze to your arm. 

This is the normal, everyday occurrence for you now, and it’s nice having a routine that works for you both. You didn’t realize how easy living together would be and you’re glad it’s finally happening. Besides the times your pregnancy has turned into a sick, desperate, crazy person, it’s been business as usual for you two even with the adjustment of being roommates. 

“You gonna be home for dinner?” You ask him as he takes a sip of the drink. His brow creases and he looks adorably angry, letting you know you made it just right. 

“Yeah, the deadline for the newest patch was last week so I shouldn’t be staying late,” he answers. 

“I’m making your favorite, your mom sent me the recipe last week,” you tell him.

“No shit,” he says, eyebrows disappearing behind his bangs. You nod in confirmation and he enthusiastically claps his hands. There’s a brief lull in the conversation, but then Jungkook seemingly remembers something and grabs your attention. “Actually, there's something I was gonna talk to you about.”

“What’s up?” Leaning over the counter, you take a sip and wait for him to speak.

“Well, I may or may not have heard you last night and —”

The sound of you choking and spitting out your tea interrupts him. 

“Excuse me?”

“I heard you, ya know, having a little fun all by your lonesome last night.” You stare at him incredulously across the island. “Surprise, surprise, the wall between our rooms isn’t that thick.” 

“Koo, why are you bringing this up?” You ask. “I mean, thanks for letting me know, I guess?”

“No, no,” he chuckles. “I’m not saying it to embarrass you or anything, Bambi.” He mirrors your stance so your faces are only a few inches apart. “I was just going to offer my services in case you need something more than your own hand.”

“Huh?”

“It’s just, I mean, I’m only a room away, and I know your hormones are probably going awol and making you needy and shit. So, if you ever want to, the option is there.”

“Koo, that’s very sweet of you, but I’m not gonna use you like that.”

“Oh, yeah, because having sex with you is such a chore. Worst night of my fucking life!” You laugh and slap his arm playfully. He stands to his full height with a wink. “Just think about it, alright?”

You do think about it. Unfortunately, it’s all you can think about. It already freaked you out enough when you couldn’t get yourself off without thinking of him, and now your body is mentally somersaulting in celebration because of his offer. 

It’s definitely not romantic feelings swirling inside you, because just as you told your friends, you don’t feel butterflies with Jungkook, but it’d be both impractical and impossible to deny you have sexual feelings for him. Whether it’s from pregnancy hormones or something else entirely, you clearly want him something awful. Greed they talked about in the bible type shit. 

The only thing you don’t want is for him to fuck you because he’s trying to help you out. If you’re going to hook up again, you want him to want you in the same way. 

Despite the mental turmoil it initially puts you through, time goes on without either of you bringing up his little offer. Your body still messes with you by making you horny at all hours of the day, but you usually just satisfy yourself before bed and all is good. 

Tonight is different. No matter how hard you try you can’t bring yourself to come. Your fingers are pruny from how long you’ve been playing with yourself, but nothing is working. It’s nearly two in the morning, and although it’s a weekend, you still want some sleep. 

Grunting and kicking your blankets away, you cross your arms over your chest and pout in the darkness of your room. The quiet atmosphere of the house is helpful for lulling you to sleep, but your thighs are twitching with need and you know you’ll be restless if you don’t fix it before going to bed. You sigh and sit on the edge of your bed, chewing your lip as you debate if you’re really about to do what you’re thinking of doing. Before you can overthink it any further, you stand up and throw your door open. 

Usagi makes a noise of confusion from her bed in the corner of your room, so you whisper to her you’ll be right back and shut the door. 

It takes you a minimum of five minutes to gather the courage to knock on Jungkook’s door. He was working late tonight on a new project and went to bed early to catch up on his sleep. Guilt pools in your stomach at the thought of waking him up for such a selfish reason, but you know he’ll scold you if he finds out you needed him without telling him as such.

The sound of your hand against the wood feels extra loud in the stark silence of the house, and it only takes a couple seconds for Jungkook to softly call for you from inside the room. 

You twist the door knob and peek your head inside. Jungkook only has one eye open, and he’s fluffing his messy hair in confusion when you enter his room. 

“Bambi? Is everything okay?” He asks sleepily. 

“Mmhmm,” you say as you chew on your lip. “I, um…”

The embarrassment stirring within you is almost enough to bring your morning sickness back with a vengeance. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I… need you,” you whisper. 

Jungkook sits up, his other eye finally opening, although they’re still half-lidded with sleep. 

“Need me how, Bams? Are you alright?”

“Like… sexually,” you finally answer.

His eyes open a little wider at your response, but soon enough his expression softens and he smiles warmly. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, his hand gesturing for you to join him. 

You tentatively place one foot in front of the other until you reach the edge of his mattress and climb in. He holds his hand out for you and once you’re close enough he grabs your waist to help you straddle his thighs. 

As soon as you feel him beneath you and his chest against your own, the tension in your body disintegrates and the relief sends your forehead to his shoulder. Jungkook reacts instinctively, one hand scratching your scalp while the other rubs your back, and you whimper from comforting sensations.

“Tell me what you need, babygirl.”

“I don’t know. Nothing’s working and I… I just need relief,” you explain. 

“Okay, do you want my hands or my mouth?” 

You shake your head.

“You, Koo. Want you.”

Jungkook hums and combs his fingers through your hair, the hand on your back rising to cradle your face instead.

“You’ve got me, Bambi. I’ll give you anything you want.” You feel him mouthing at your jaw and breathe a sigh of relief. “Every part of me,” he whispers ardently.

After a prolonged moment of gentle neck kisses, Jungkook takes your hips in his hands to lift you and pull your bottoms down before moving his own pants out of the way. You hear the sound of him pumping his cock to get himself hard, but you’re too busy returning his favor by caressing his neck with your lips to see the motion yourself. The firm touch of his hand on your lower back guides you into the right position atop his lap. You sink down slowly, with Jungkook holding you steady as he fills you inch by delicious inch. The wetness from your earlier attempts at self pleasure allows him to slide into you with ease. 

You moan unabashedly at the feeling of his thick cock inside you again, it’s warm and throbbing within your walls and you kiss the bare skin of his shoulder appreciatively. He feels like pure heaven and it’s worrisome how desperately you wish you could stay like this forever. 

“Koo, you feel so good,” you moan into his ear.

While you begin kissing his neck again, Jungkook starts bouncing you up and down on his cock via his hold on your hips. The euphoric feeling the action creates must be mutual, because a pair of vibrant moans and the clapping of your skin is the only sound in the room. His noises are deeper than normal since he’s still fresh from slumber and the low tone makes your head spin. 

When you eventually take over and pick up the pace, one of his hands leaves your hip to thread into your hair. 

“Missed this, Bams,” he tells you sincerely. “You feel fucking perfect around me.”

Jungkook brings your face close so he can kiss you. He’s gentle with his affection, lips moving at a snail’s pace to savor the feeling of kissing you once again. Tracing your bottom lip with his tongue, you moan gratefully when he pushes it past the border of your lips to meet yours. Your arms encircle his neck as you shamelessly make out, pulling him impossibly close so his bare chest is pressing on you. 

“So tight, Bams, feels fucking amazing.”

“Mm, it’s just for you. Pussy’s all yours, Koo.”

Jungkook groans aggressively and kisses you with a new wave of passion. His fingers dig into your scalp reactively and you whine, your thighs working overtime to fuck his cock into you again and again. The dual sensation of his kiss and his dick splitting you apart rattles your brain until all you can focus on are your movements. 

When he notices your pace stuttering from your impending climax, he steals control again, wrapping both arms around your waist to steady you while he thrusts into you from below. You gasp and bite into the skin of his shoulder as he fucks you with everything he has. 

It’s no surprise your orgasm approaches faster than usual, since you were already worked up from your previous ministrations. You welcome the familiar feeling of your abdomen and thighs tightening as Jungkook continues pistoning into you, kissing him again when you feel yourself tipping over the precipice. Running your fingers through his hair and tugging on the black strands, you pull a grunt from his lips that only serves to further your pursuit. 

“M’close,” you breathe into his mouth. 

“Come for me, Bams,” he replies without missing a beat.

The tip of his cock only meets your g-spot a couple more times before you come with a throaty moan, your head tipping back as Jungkook continues to fuck you through your high. His hips slow to a stop as your body relaxes and breathing levels out, so you question him with a glance. 

“What are you doing?”

“You came, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t.”

“I’m not the one with pregnancy hormones,” he chuckles.

Your hands move from his hair to caress his jaw.

“It doesn’t matter,” you tell him. “This is a two way street, Koo. You’re not a sex toy, I didn’t come in here just for me.”

Jungkook smiles sweet as pie and kisses the tip of your nose. 

“I know, Bambi,” he says. “But honestly, I think we should both get some sleep. Why don’t you stay in here with me and we can pick this up again in the morning?”

You frown, but begrudgingly agree when you notice how tired Jungkook looks. 

After pulling out, Jungkook readjusts your bottoms back to your hips before tucking himself into his pants. He cuddles into his sheets with one arm resting against the pillow next to him. Gesturing with his head towards his outstretched limb, you happily take the hint and lay your head on his tatted bicep. 

Cuddling with Jungkook is foreign, but the man himself is so familiar that it’s not awkward despite it being the first time. Jungkook wraps his other arm around your waist to bring you into his chest, and it’s shocking just how wonderful it feels to be entirely encapsulated by him. You hum appreciatively as comfort seeps into your very bones and makes a home in your nervous system. Without thinking, you start tracing over his collarbones with your fingertips and he kisses your cheek and temple. 

You both fall asleep with ease, your quiet breaths tangling together in the limited space between your faces. 

When you wake up, Jungkook is behind you, but his arm is still draped across your waist and your head remains comfortably on his bicep. You smile without realizing and cuddle deeper into his embrace, lacing your fingers with the ones resting on your stomach. 

Your view upon looking down is just your intertwined hands above your small baby bump and your smile grows exponentially, your heart squeezing in your chest at the sight of all three of you together this way. 

The sentimental moment is brief, because soon enough you recognize the feeling of Jungkook’s dick pressing against your ass and desire begins banging on your door and demanding you let it in. As any good human in your position should, you nonchalantly wiggle your ass and snicker to yourself when you feel his cock stiffening. The sound of Jungkook languidly groaning behind you lights a fire inside your stomach that blazes down to your thighs. 

His hand squeezes yours and you feel him nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Morning,” he murmurs in your ear.

“Morning wood, more like it,” you reply.

Jungkook chuckles warmly in your ear and it spreads goosebumps across your skin like wildfire. He releases your hand to grab your hip instead, pulling you into him so you can feel exactly how hard he is. Your exhale becomes a moan when he ruts against your ass and his hand leaves your hip to reach your folds. 

The second his fingers slip beneath your panties and touch your warm cunt, your mind goes to static.

“Shit, Bams, you’re fucking soaked,” he notes.

“I’ve been wet for the past two weeks straight,” you admit.

“You should’ve told me,” Jungkook says as he licks and nibbles on your earlobe. “Would’ve taken care of you.”

You whine when he starts sucking on your neck just as two of his fingers sink into your cunt. 

“Yeah,” you moan. “I’m understanding how grave a mistake that was now.” 

He laughs again before returning to his previous endeavor of kissing and licking your throat. His fingers move in and out of you lackadaisically, slowly stretching your hole open as he curls the digits against your front wall to reach that perfect spongy spot. You find yourself gripping his forearm to keep yourself steady as the pleasure threatens to pull you under its waves. 

Once Jungkook deems you wet enough, he removes his fingers from your pussy and brings them to your mouth for you to lick clean. As you work your tongue around and between his two middle fingers you hear the rustling of pants behind you. Even though the last time was mere hours ago, your heart is already racing at the thought of him stuffing you full again. 

Jungkook runs his dick through your folds and presses the tip against your leaking hole, making your essence coat his head with a pretty sheen. You moan reactively, your head meeting his shoulder while his cock stretches your velvet walls. 

The fingers previously between your lips dig into the flesh of your waist as he starts rocking into you from behind. He’s doing all the work, simultaneously pulling your hips back while he thrusts into your cunt mercilessly. You’re thankful for his diligence, because your mind is going haywire from the feeling of him throbbing inside you and the veins of his cock rubbing along your walls. It’d be impossible for you to assist him with anything in this state. 

He’s still worshipping your neck with his mouth while fucking you like an animal and the contradicting feeling forces your eyes into your skull.

“You’re so fucking tight, Bams. So wet… you’re making me fucking crazy.” His warm breath on your neck makes you keen. 

“More, Koo, I need more of you,” you reply.

Jungkook hears you loud and clear. He holds your waist with both arms to keep you snug against him so he can thrust into you with more force, his pace speeding up in conjecture with the extra effort. 

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp. “Jungkook.”

“Yeah? This what you wanted?”

“Fuck, yes, you’re so fucking big, Koo,” you whine.

He relentlessly fucks into your cunt, rolling his hips against your ass and sending his cock straight to your g-spot. Your nails make crescent moons on his arm where you’re still holding on for dear life. The other hand stretches before you to clutch the sheets like a vice for fear you’ll lose your mind if you don’t have something in your grasp. 

The melody of your moans and his grunts are downright pornagraphic and serves as filthy music to your ears. There’s nothing you want more than for him to continue fucking you, and if you could keep him buried in your cunt for all eternity, you would gladly do so. 

“You close?” He asks as he bites your ear. 

“Yes.”

“Good, gonna make a mess of you, Bambi.”

The erotic combination of words, tickling breaths, his firm chest behind you, and the massive cock spreading your pussy apart have you going institutionally insane. Somehow, he manages to gain more speed as your orgasms near and the imminent release makes you scream. It’s barely a second later that you’re coming with a pathetic cry of his name. He follows immediately, his cum marking your walls as his own while he repeatedly fucks his seed into you. 

His hips never cease their movement even once your highs wane, he just continues rolling into your cunt while his cock softens inside of you. You whimper from the oversensitivity, but even the uncomfortable pressure doesn’t make you stop him. The feeling of having him within you is too addicting to let it end just yet. 

Eventually, he stops lazily fucking you, but even then he still doesn’t pull out. You hold the position until sleep brings you both back into its embrace, Jungkook’s arms securely around you while the dripping mixture of your essences pools on the bed below.

Taglist: @lovingkoalaface @starcandybby @junniesoleilkth @keylime4eva @kissyfacekoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @spideyjimin @jjeonjjk7 @joonlover1207 @annpeachy @rexana19 @heartwith0uthe @kosmos1307 @minyoongi7016 @magicalnachocreator @misschelliejeon @bubblyi3 @bhonbhon @polnaraffsrack @amarawayne @majesticjung-97 @kmpj9 @upo1313 @songbyeonkim @kikikaaa @glowjuli @avawants2havefun @hyeinwluv85s @someonegoood @kyljjk

The Second Trimester coming on 6/27/25 at 7:00 pm EST

[straykeedz-recs]

── spring into summer, bangchan

♡ 󠀬󠀬dad!bangchan x actress!reader: angst (a lot of it) and heartbreak.

♡ synopsis ― You left him behind to chase your dreams, your best friend, your first love. Now you're back, and everything's changed. He's a father. You're a star. But some flames never die. Maybe it waits.

♡ [7,6k] & notes ― I would like to express my gratitude for all the love you have shown for this series. I write it with great affection, hoping that you will truly enjoy every word I write. In this chapter, we will learn a little about the protagonist's and Chan's past and what really happened between them. The part in italics refers to their past.

chapters: CHAPTER O1

CHAPTER O2

You never minded being seen in public, but you still took precautions, sunglasses, a cap, anything that made you feel a little less visible. With your disguise in place, you strolled through the downtown streets, picking up candles, party supplies, and a bouquet of flowers.

The florist, someone you remembered from your childhood, recognized you right away.

“My goodness, you’ve grown so much. I always saw you running around with that boy, Chan... Time really does fly.” She smiled warmly, the lines on her face like gentle reminders of passing years.

Chan used to bring you flowers all the time. Daisies. Roses. Lilies. He had always been that way, romantic, attentive, thoughtful. It was one of the many reasons you fell in love with him. He didn’t just love loudly, he loved kindly. The kind of love that wrapped around you like a blanket, that never asked for anything in return. It was steady, devoted, and brave. He would have thrown himself in front of anything to keep you safe.

Years could pass and no one would come close to what you felt in the brief years you were his.

You didn’t regret chasing your dream. You didn’t regret studying, working late into the night, building a name that could be recognized across screens and streets. What you did regret, deeply, was the lie. The way you chose to end it. The story you invented to make him let go. You told yourself it was to protect him. To give him the life he always wanted, one with stability, peace, a future you couldn’t give back then.

You found yourself stopping at a small coffee shop. The kind with soft jazz playing in the background and the smell of roasted beans hugging the air. You ordered an iced americano and settled into a bench by the window.

Outside, the city moved at its usual pace. Strangers passed by, faces you didn’t know, each caught up in their own little story. Couples holding hands. Children skipping along beside tired parents. Friends laughing over shared secrets. Life was happening everywhere, in quiet, ordinary ways.

You looked down at the bouquet beside you. The scent was sweet, but it tightened your stomach. It was the kind of ache that came from memory. The kind that stayed hidden until something soft and lovely pulled it to the surface.

And there it was again, his ghost, lingering in the colors of the petals and the shape of the past you tried to leave behind.

It was a cold winter night, the sky above painted in deep navy blue, scattered with silent stars. The breeze was gentle but sharp, weaving through your hair and brushing against your cheeks like icy fingertips. You stood frozen beneath it, unable to move, your breath the only thing visible as it curled into the night air. Your heart was already aching, even before a single word had been spoken.

Then he appeared in a gray sweatshirt, his messy light brown hair, the tip of his nose reddened by the chill. Chan sat down next to you on the swing in the empty park. 

“Hi, baby.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips, so effortlessly gentle. You tried to smile but it came out broken, just a curve of sorrow he didn’t notice.

“Hi.” The word left your mouth like a breath too heavy to carry.

“You wanted to see me, huh?” He grinned, voice bright, carefree. “I was with Felix, but I came as soon as I saw your message.”

He didn’t know. Not yet. To him, this was just another night. To you, it was the end of everything you knew.

”Chan… we need to talk.”

You couldn’t look at him. Your gaze dropped to your lap, to the chipped light pink nail polish on your fingers, anything to avoid his eyes. He frowned, his smile faltering at the sound of your voice.

“It's okay. You can tell me. What happened?”

You swallowed, your breath hitching. Every second stretched longer than it should. You drew in the cold air and tried to find your voice. “I made a decision,” you said. “I… I want to pursue my dream.”

For a moment, his entire face lit up. That bright, proud smile bloomed instantly, the kind that always made your heart flutter. And it shattered you. Because he still believed you meant together. You could feel your chest squeezing tighter.

“That's amazing, baby. I'm proud of you."

You couldn’t speak. There was a lump in your throat so sharp it hurt. Your mouth felt dry, your hands trembling in your lap. Your heart was pounding so hard it almost drowned out the world. When you finally looked at him, tears were already clinging to your lashes. Chan’s smile faded. He reached out to cup your face, his palm warm and soft against your cold skin.

“Hey… what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You blinked, and the tears began to fall. Slowly at first, then freely, painting your cheeks and dripping onto his hand. “Because… I’m leaving.”

His hand didn’t move. Neither did you. Time seemed to pause, every heartbeat echoing like a crack through your chest. You watched his expression change. Confusion. Pain. Realization.

And then silence. Nothing but the sound of winter and everything falling apart.

It hit Chan like a punch to the stomach, the kind that knocks the air out of your lungs before you can even speak. But he tried. He forced a smile, shaky and faint, before rising and kneeling in front of you. His eyes searched yours, already dimming. You saw it, the sadness tucked behind the corners of his mouth. He didn’t say it, but you knew. You had already disappointed him.

“I received an offer,” you said, voice trembling. “A scholarship. In South Korea.” Your next words barely made it past your lips. “And I accepted.”

He drew in a sharp breath, his chest rising with effort as his heart began to race. But he still nodded, still tried to be strong for you. His laugh was weak, more a breath than a sound.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry, okay?” He reached for your hand. “We’ll figure something out. I can visit. Or… I can go with you. Long-distance relationships work. People do it all the time.”

That was the problem. He meant it. Every word. He would leave everything behind if it meant staying by your side. He would give up his university plans, his future here, his family, his dreams of a quiet home and a life built together, just to chase after you. And that kind of love, though beautiful, was too big. Too costly. Too much to ask from someone you loved back.

“You can’t,” you whispered. Your voice broke as you wiped at your tears with the back of your hand.

Chan’s expression faltered. His brows pulled together in confusion. “What do you mean I can’t? Just tell me when, I’ll talk to my parents. They’ll understand. I’ll figure something out and—”

“Chan,” you interrupted, shaking your head slowly. “No.”

His lips parted slightly, disbelief setting in. “No?”

“I don’t… I don’t want you to come with me.” Your eyes met his, and you saw it happen in real time, the way the light faded. The way hope unraveled behind his gaze.

“I don’t understand,” he said, the words tight in his throat. “Why?”

“I’m doing this alone,” you said, your voice steady even as your heart crumbled. “I want things this place can’t give me.”

He stared at you like you’d just betrayed him with the cruelest lie. Like your words had dug into his chest and carved him open.

“What about me?” he whispered. “Does that mean you don’t want me anymore?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. “It’s not…” you tried, but he cut you off.

“Wait. Are you breaking up with me?” There was a humorless laugh in his voice, one that cracked the moment like glass shattering. He leaned back slightly, recoiling from you, as if your touch might burn him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you said, your voice raw, your hands shaking. “But I need to be honest.”

“Honest about what?”

Your lips trembled. “Us. It’s over.”

He laughed again. This time it was quieter, broken in a way that hurt more than anger ever could.

“No, it’s not,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re not doing this. You’re not.”

“Chan.”

“No. Screw that. Why are you breaking up with me? If it’s because of the trip, I already said I’ll go. I’ll go to freaking Korea, I’ll find work, I’ll study there if I have to. I’ll stay with you. I’ll do anything.”

“It’s not the trip.” You lied. He didn’t see through it.

He took a deep breath, feeling weary, defeated.

“Then what is it? Do you like someone else?”

“What? No,” you said quickly. “It’s not that. It’s just…” You couldn’t finish. You couldn’t say the words that would destroy both of you.

He leaned in, both hands cradling your face, holding you as if you were already slipping away. His eyes searched yours, glassy with tears he refused to let fall.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I would go anywhere with you. For you. I need you to know that.”

You broke. The tears came fast and heavy, streaming down your face as your hands gently wrapped around his, pulling them away from your cheeks. Your heart screamed at you to stop. To stay. To tell him the truth. But instead, you looked him in the eye. And you said it.

”I don't love you anymore.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. And in that moment, you didn’t just break his heart. You shattered the part of yourself that would always belong to him. And then you twisted the dagger in his chest, stabbing him in a place only you had the keys to.

Time stopped. Seconds froze in place, just like your words. Chan looked at you like he was in actual pain. His lips parted again and again, but nothing came out. He let go of your hands like they burned him, stepping back as if trying to find any sign that this was a bluff.

"You don't mean that.” His voice was broken. You were to blame.

“I do,” you whispered. “Please… just don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Tell me it's a lie.” A single tear slid down his cheek. You sniffled, doing everything in your power to keep your own tears from falling. “Tell me this is a joke. Right now.”

“I can’t…” you said, your voice barely there. “Because it’s not.”

His breathing became frantic, struggling to inhale and exhale. He ran a hand through his brown hair, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.. He couldn't believe this was happening. He had made so many plans, and they all included you. He couldn't see a future without you in it. And now the person he loves most simply doesn't love him anymore? What are the possibilities?

“I'm sorry.” You rubbed your hands over your face to wipe away the tears and stood up, the creaking sound of the swing echoing between your broken hearts.

He would never know how much it broke you to do this. Never guess that you were lying straight through your teeth to protect him. That this was love, and it was killing you.

“Hey!” His voice cracked as he rushed after you. He grabbed your wrist and turned you to face him again, forcing your eyes to meet his. Tears clung to his lashes. His breathing was heavy. His nose is red. His voice is nothing more than a desperate whisper. He sniffed, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “If you walk away from me right now, if you do this, I’ll never forgive you.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

In that moment, you swore you could hear the sound of glass shattering, your heart and his breaking at once, splintering into pieces too sharp to ever put back together. It echoed in your chest, your head, your ears. Final. Irreversible.

And still… you turned your back and walked away. Leaving him standing there. Alone. In the dark. With tears in his eyes and a heart split in two.

You broke yourself to protect him and dragged him down with you. And that was something you would never forgive yourself for.

He was inside the car, his head leaning against the seat while listening to soft music on the radio. In half an hour, Yuna would be leaving her ballet class, and he would take her home, cook dinner, and spend another night with his daughter, reading stories and watching cartoon shows on TV.

That’s when the sound of rain pulled him from his thoughts. At first, it was just a few fine droplets tapping against the car window. Then, within seconds, they turned into heavy, thick drops that blurred everything outside. Chan sat up and quickly reached to close the window, but something caught his attention. It was you, running for shelter from the rain, two bags clutched in your hands. You looked flustered and out of breath, your clothes already soaked through, clinging to your body. He cursed under his breath. He knew he shouldn’t, but his heart moved before reason could catch up.

He cursed under his breath, knowing he shouldn't, but his heart spoke louder.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered to himself.

You stopped beneath a tree, trying to use one of the bags to shield your head. The effort was useless. With a frustrated sigh, you gave up and started walking again, slowly now, careful on the slick sidewalk.

Chan rolled the window down fully and raised his voice over the sound of the rain. “Hey, get in the car.”

You froze. Your eyes squinted against the downpour as you tried to make out who had spoken. For a moment, you hesitated. But the rain didn’t. It kept falling harder, soaking you further. He reached over and unlocked the door. You climbed in quickly, tossed the bags to the floor, and shut the door with a sharp exhale. Your teeth clenched as you pushed damp strands of hair away from your face.

Water trickled down your cheeks, your neck, and clung to your skin. Chan stared for a beat too long, his brows furrowed in concern and something else he wasn’t ready to name. Without thinking, he shrugged off the jacket he was wearing and draped it over your shoulders. You opened your mouth to protest, but he didn’t give you the chance. He kept his eyes forward, like he hadn’t just crossed a line he swore he wouldn’t.

“Thanks,” you murmured, wiping your face with your palm.

You pushed your hair over one shoulder, exposing your neck and collarbone. Chan glanced, and then looked again. He couldn’t help it. The way your skin glistened from the rain, the way the warmth of the car painted your cheeks in that soft flush, it tugged at a memory he hadn’t let himself revisit. He remembered exactly what your skin felt like under his fingertips. He remembered the curve of your jaw, the way your breath hitched when he leaned in just a little too close.

He clenched his jaw and stared out the windshield instead, breathing slowly. He wanted to reach out, to trace that same line down your neck, to brush your hair back again just so he could see more. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

Then your eyes caught his, just before he could look away. You frowned.

“What were you looking at?”

He almost let a smirk slip, but buried it beneath a stony expression. “Nothing.”

“You were staring.”

“You’re not that interesting,” he shot back flatly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Your lips parted in disbelief, a flush of anger rising through your chest and neck, burning hot under your skin.

“Look, I get it. You hate me. I probably would too, if I were you. But could you just… not be like this? Just for a moment?” Your voice cracked slightly, but you kept going. “Since I got here, you've been treating me like some intruder. Like I’m this awful reminder you wish you could erase.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just kept his eyes fixed on the window, watching the city blur past.

“You’re not making it easy for anyone,” he muttered.

That was it. Cold, final, like a closed door. He wasn’t going to budge. He would never soften, never let you in. He’d just keep shutting you out, making you question everything. Without another word, you reached down and unbuckled your seat belt, fingers trembling with frustration. Maybe walking in the rain would hurt less than sitting there, being torn apart in silence.

“You’re not serious.” He moved before you could open the door, slamming it shut with one hand. Rain drummed hard against the roof above you, wild and relentless.

“Let me out,” you snapped, gripping the handle over his hand. Your skin brushed his, and your whole body tensed. A jolt ran up your arm, and you hated the way it made your breath catch. He felt it too. You saw it in the slight pause of his movement, in the twitch of his jaw.

“You’ll freeze out there.” His voice came low and tight, rough around the edges.

“So what?” you snapped, your voice cracking under the pressure building inside you. “Do you even care? It doesn’t matter to you anyway.”

Chan didn’t answer. He just stood there, holding the door… and your hand. You tried pulling away, tried opening the door again, but your body betrayed you. You were shaking, your breaths turning uneven. This whole thing felt stupid, desperate and humiliating. Your hand slowly moved up to your face as the burn in your throat rose to meet the sting behind your eyes. Chan flinched, his chest tightening at the sight.

You were crying. His heart sank as he watched your shoulders tremble. You turned away, both hands hiding your face as your sobs filled the small space between you. It was like something inside you had cracked open.

He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t run from it.

“I’m sorry.” His voice came out rough, lower than usual, but there was no doubt it was sincere. “That’s not what I meant.”

You shook your head, voice broken between sobs. “Yes, it is. Of course it is. You hate me—and I get it. I deserve it. I’m awful, I left, I said things I can’t take back… and you’re right to hate me, but…”

Chan reached across the space and gently touched your wrist, grounding you with his presence. “I don’t hate you.”

You were a mess, flushed, soaked in tears, but still the most heartbreakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen. It was ridiculous how that had never changed.

“Be serious,” you whispered.

“I am.”

You both stared at each other, suspended in the moment. Neither of you knew what to say next or what that admission really meant. You sniffled, wiping your tears with trembling fingers, questions swelling in your chest. Had he really asked about you all this time? Did he know your address in Seoul? Did any of it still matter to him?

Before either of you could speak, a wave of laughter and excited voices floated through the cracked car window. Your attention shifted as you spotted a group of children across the street under colorful umbrellas. The rain had started to fade into a light drizzle.

And there she was, Yuna, safe and smiling beneath the cover of a teacher’s umbrella.

Chan blinked hard and exhaled as he unbuckled his seat belt. You watched him step into the rain, holding the umbrella low under his arm. He crossed the street, crouched down, and scooped his daughter into his arms. Reality hit like a punch to the chest. He had a life. A routine. A daughter who adored him. A home to go back to. And you? You were just a reminder of something that used to be.

By the time he returned, Yuna’s face lit up when she saw you in the car. She clapped her hands and giggled, calling your name like she’d been waiting for you all day. You barely managed a smile as you turned, watching Chan quietly buckle her into the car seat.

Yuna beamed back at you, her little legs swinging in excitement beneath her ballet outfit. "Daddy, did you bring the princess to see me?"

Chan glanced at you for a split second, then looked away without answering.

You kept your voice soft. "Hi, sweetie. It's good to see you."

Yuna bounced in her seat, still glowing. "Daddy, can the princess come over for dinner? I want to show her my dolls!"

You couldn't help but smile at her innocence, at how effortlessly she shared her joy. Her little voice, so full of hope, made something squeeze in your chest. Chan swallowed hard beside you, clearly caught off guard. You could tell he was scrambling for a way to gently decline without breaking his daughter’s heart.

But he said nothing. Just silence. Waiting, maybe, for you to do it instead. He didn't want you in his house. That much was obvious. Not with his daughter. Not with his wife. This moment, even if innocent, wasn’t supposed to happen.

So you smiled and leaned forward slightly. "Hey, cutie. I’d love to, but I can’t make it today. I can’t wait to meet them though."

Yuna’s shoulders dropped a little. She made a soft noise of protest and waved her arms in disappointment. "Promise?"

"I promise," you said, offering her a pinky through the seats. She took it seriously and grinned again.

Chan got into the driver’s seat, checking the rearview mirror where his daughter giggled and squirmed in her seat. Then his eyes met yours again. But the smile you'd worn had already faded as you looked ahead. He didn’t say a word. Just started the car. The ride to your parents’ house was filled with Yuna’s cheerful chatter. She told him all about her ballet class, the music, the snacks, her friend who wore a sparkly tutu. Chan listened intently, asking questions, nodding at her excitement. And something in you twisted. 

It wasn’t regret. It wasn’t guilt. It was envy. Because that could’ve been your life. And no matter how close you were right now, it felt miles away.

When he parked the car, you turned to Yuna and blew her a kiss. She caught it in her hands and pressed it to her cheek with a shy giggle. You glanced at Chan, hoping for a trace of softness, but his focus stayed on the windshield like you weren’t even there. You gathered your bags and opened the door. The rain had stopped and everything was damp but quiet.

“Thanks for the ride.” You mumbled before closing the door.

You were already halfway up the steps when you heard your name. You paused, not sure if you imagined it. Then again, louder this time. You turned. Chan had rolled down the passenger window. His expression was unreadable, his tone flat.

"Are you free tomorrow afternoon?" 

You blinked, surprised. "Um… yes. Why?"

“'Two pm. In the park.” 

That was all he said before driving off. No explanation. No smile. Just a cloud of confusion left in his wake.

At two in the afternoon, you arrived at the park. The day was beautiful, cool and sunny, as if the rain from the night before had never happened. Children filled the playground with laughter, running up the slide, tumbling down, their voices echoing in the open space.

From a distance, the first thing you noticed was a head of long blond hair, neck-length and shining in the sunlight. You narrowed your eyes to be sure, your heart picking up speed. It had to be Felix. And just as you suspected, Chan was standing beside him, arms crossed as they talked about something quietly.

“Felix?” You called out to him.

Both of them turned toward you. As soon as Felix recognized you, his face lit up and he opened his arms wide with that same radiant smile you remembered so well. Without hesitation, you walked into his embrace, laughing softly.

“Look who escaped from the big screen to see us!” he said, holding you tightly and longer than expected.

“It’s so good to see you. My God, it’s been forever.”

He looked just the same, maybe even better. Handsome, almost angelic, his warmth just as infectious as it had always been.

“It’s good to see you too. I almost didn’t believe it when Chan told me you were in town.”

You caught a glimpse of Chan watching silently from the side. He didn’t smile, but his eyes didn’t leave you.

“Well, here I am.” 

Felix’s expression turned hopeful. “And how long are you staying? We’ve got to go out for a drink or something.” He nodded toward Chan, who barely acknowledged it, simply offering the smallest nod of agreement.

”Just two weeks.“ You smiled, feeling the weight of time passing in your words.

“We’ve still got time. I gotta run now, duty calls. But hey, I’ve got the bar now. You’ve got to stop by. I’d love that.”

“Of course, Lix. Let’s make it happen.”

He pulled you into one last hug, squeezing you affectionately before heading off with his usual bright energy, waving as he walked away. Once he disappeared down the street, the quiet between you and Chan wrapped around you like a heavy coat. You slipped your hands into your pockets and drew in a slow breath.

“So… any particular reason you asked me to come here?”

Chan turned to face you, and it took a moment for you to steady your breathing. He looked effortlessly beautiful. His hair had grown longer, curling gently at the ends, especially where it brushed the back of his neck. You tried not to stare.

“There’s someone who wants to see you,” he said.

You blinked, confused. But before you could ask, a small figure came running toward you across the grass. Yuna wore a flowery dress and her face lit up with pure joy when she saw you. She ran straight into your arms and you instinctively knelt down, wrapping her in a warm hug. Her tiny arms went around your neck as she giggled, and you kissed her soft cheek.

Before you could say a word, she took your hand eagerly and began pulling you along. “Come on, princess, let’s build a castle!”

Chan sat on the bench with his arms crossed, watching the two of you for the next forty minutes. He told himself to keep a straight face, to resist the growing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. But the truth was, he couldn’t.

You sat with your ankles buried in the warm sand, Yuna beside you, both of you covered in it from head to toe. Her toys were scattered around, half-buried and forgotten except for one mission: build the biggest sandcastle possible. She had declared it like it was royal law, handing you a tiny pink shovel with full authority. 

“Let’s dig, princess,” she said solemnly, her brow furrowed like a little commander.

“Leave it to me, your highness.” You gave her a theatrical bow, gripping the small shovel and diving into the task with exaggerated commitment, carving a moat around the half-built structure.

Chan ran his hand through the back of his neck, definitely not smiling at the scene before him.

And as quick as the blink of an eye, you were getting up to brush the accumulated sand off your lap, and tragedy struck. You tripped over the sand bucket and fell. Face first into the sand. There was a beat of silence before Yuna let out a shriek of laughter. She kicked her feet and clapped, delighted by the sight of you flopped in the sand.

“I’m okay. I’m fine,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, spitting out a bit of grit.

“You fell!” Yuna gasped between fits of laughter. Then she tilted her head and added gleefully, “You fell like a pancake!”

You stood, brushing sand from your hair, your clothes, even your eyelashes.

“Well, good thing pancakes are awesome,” you said with a grin, joining her in laughter.

Glancing back toward the bench, you caught Chan failing miserably at holding in his amusement.

“Yah!” he called out, grinning now. “You alright over there, or should I call for backup?”

“I’m fine,” you replied, pouting as you rolled your eyes. That was it, he broke. Laughter spilled out of him as he leaned back against the bench, unable to keep it in.

You sat back down beside Yuna, both of you returning to your castle, determined to finish it. By the time it was done, the sun had begun to dip low in the sky, casting golden hues across the park. Yuna had started yawning, blinking slower, and rubbing her eyes with sandy hands no matter how many times you gently stopped her. When the sky turned soft and peach-colored, you scooped her up. Her tiny arms wrapped around your neck and her head rested against your shoulder without a word. You carried her across the sand, like a sleepy little koala, toward where Chan was waiting. And for a brief moment, the three of you felt like something whole. Something that almost could’ve been.

“I think her battery ran out,” you said with a soft laugh, gently brushing your fingers through Yuna’s dark hair, tied back with a fluffy yellow scrunchie.

Chan stood up, instinctively reaching to take her from you, but you looked at him, something hopeful flickering in your eyes.

“Is it okay if I carry her a little longer?”

He paused for a moment. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

And just like that, the two of you found yourselves walking side by side down the quiet, tree-lined streets of your old neighborhood. The air was cool and smelled faintly of grass and rain, and Yuna lay nestled in your arms, still barely awake. She clutched a small stuffed bunny to her chest, letting out a yawn every few steps, her eyelids drooping further each time. Chan didn’t say much, but he kept glancing at her with soft eyes, each look filled with affection. It was the kind of quiet tenderness that didn’t need to be spoken aloud. You noticed the way her tired smile would return whenever she felt his gaze on her.

He didn't say anything, just kept walking with you, his hands in his pockets. Then Yuna's sandal slipped off, and he ran to pick it up, with an incredible reflex that only parents have.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes flicking to yours briefly.

“Yes,” you said with a small breath. “She’s heavier than she looks.”

“You sure?” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

You gave him a look and smiled. “Are you calling me weak?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, but didn’t answer.

Before long, you reached his front gate. The garden outside was small but clearly well cared for, the kind of place that made a house feel like a home. You stopped there, hesitating for a moment. He looked at you cautiously, then turned his attention to Yuna. He reached out and gently lifted her from your arms, holding her against his chest with practiced ease, making sure not to wake her.

You watched as her cheek pressed against his shoulder, peaceful and safe.

“Well, I...” you began, unsure of what to say next.

He looked at you, eyes searching. “Do you wanna...”

You both spoke at once. Chan let out a quiet breath, like he had been holding it in for longer than he realized. You smiled, a soft, genuine curve of your lips that felt strangely natural, like muscle memory.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked. “You’re covered in sand.”

You hesitated, shaking your head quickly. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not,” he replied simply. “I’m inviting you.”

You raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. “Won’t her mom be upset if she sees me here?”

There was a short pause. He glanced at the door, then unlocked it.

“No.”

You frowned. His wife must be a saint, then. Because you couldn’t imagine many people welcoming an ex-girlfriend into their home. Still, this was Chan. If he said it was fine, you trusted him.

He entered the house and you followed him. The house was warm. Lived in. A few toys scattered about. A pair of pink socks near the stairs. Chan gently placed Yuna on the couch, tucking her bunny under her chin as she shifted sleepily, her tiny mouth falling open in the most peaceful way.

“She could sleep through a tornado,” he said with a small laugh, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead as he passed you. “Want some coffee?”

You nodded. ‘Sure.’

He pointed down the hall. “Bathroom’s that way, if you want to wash up.”

You thanked him and made your way down the hallway, your footsteps quiet against the floor. The bathroom was just as neat as the rest of the house, everything in its place. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and shook your head lightly, sending grains of sand tumbling from your hair. Then you brushed the rest off your clothes and splashed cold water on your face, watching it trickle down into the porcelain sink.

That was when you noticed it. Two toothbrushes. One small, bright, and clearly Yuna’s. The other, plain and adult-sized. Your brows furrowed slightly. Just two. No third.

You weren’t trying to pry, and you certainly didn’t want to overstep but something about that small detail tugged at the edge of your thoughts. You took a quiet breath and stepped back into the hallway. It wasn’t your place to ask. And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to know the answer.

You hadn’t noticed it right away, but Chan’s house was surprisingly spacious. It made sense, though. A child like Yuna needed room, space to scatter her toys, space to grow, space to let her happiness echo through the walls. Under the stairs sat a piano, slightly dusty, but clearly used from time to time. You remembered him taking lessons back in high school. He had been so determined for a while, though he never followed through. Life had a way of changing people when you weren’t looking.

The sliding door to the backyard creaked as it opened, and you went outside. The sun was already golden, casting long shadows on the grass. A small plastic slide stood crooked in the yard, and the sound of the coffee machine hummed inside.

A few minutes later, he joined you, two mugs in hand. He handed you one and sat down next to you on the wooden bench. For a while, neither of you said anything. You just sipped in silence, breathing in the scent of the afternoon air and roasted beans.

“I didn't expect you to be good with her,” he said finally, his eyes still fixed on the backyard fence.

You looked at him, surprised. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “You used to trip over your own feet trying to put on your backpack.”

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I've evolved.”

“Evolved,” he murmured.

Silence again. But it's not awkward. Just... kind.

The quiet returned, but it felt easy now, like an old rhythm neither of you had forgotten. You looked at him more closely. His jaw wasn’t so tight anymore. His shoulders, always tense when you first saw him again, had relaxed. There was something lighter in his expression. Not happiness exactly, but something close. Something like peace.

“I like being around her,” you said softly, playing with the handle of your mug. “She reminds me of you.”

He turned his head slightly. “How so?”

You smiled at the thought. “She's stubborn. Bossy. Ridiculously charming.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Sounds dangerous.”

“But,” you continued, “she’s also sweet. Protective. Brave.”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on his coffee, lost in thought, the silence stretching comfortably between you.

The sliding door creaked behind you as a breeze blew through, and for a split second, he leaned a little closer to you. Just a little. But enough for you to feel the change in the air.

“She likes you,” he said at last, his voice low. “Thanks for spending time with her.”

You offered a small shrug, brushing your fingers along the ceramic mug. “You don’t need to thank me. The feeling’s mutual. She’s... impossible not to fall for.”

Chan didn’t reply. But when you glanced at him, you caught the way his eyes had settled on you, not guarded, not distant, just quietly focused. Like he was seeing you for the first time in a long while. Like some memory he’d tried to bury had surfaced despite him.

There was something rare about this moment, something soft and unspoken. Just the two of you, sitting side by side with no weight of the past pressing down, no demands or expectations. You knew it wouldn't last. Moments like this never did. But that only made it more precious.

When the breeze turned cooler, Chan stood to make more coffee, and you followed him into the kitchen. The mugs were refilled, the scent of roasted beans wrapping around the quiet space. Outside, the backyard lights glowed faintly through the glass, casting gentle reflections across the counter. Yuna was still curled on the sofa, her small frame tucked tight, clutching her bunny like a lifeline. A lock of hair clung to her cheek, and she shifted slightly, making a soft sound in her sleep.

You leaned against the counter, ankles crossed, eyes fixed on her with a quiet smile. “I still can’t believe she knocked out like that.”

“She always does,” Chan said, sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, one foot touching the floor. “She goes full chaos mode, then crashes like someone flipped a switch.”

You laughed softly. “She’s amazing, Chan.”

He looked down, smiling in that modest way of his. “She’s... everything.”

The words hung in the air between you, warm and honest.

You turned to face him, lifting your mug slightly. “So... how’s life treating you? Besides the whole dad stuff.”

He blinked, as if the question had surprised him. Then he smiled faintly. “Dad stuff takes up a lot.”

“I bet,” you said with a quiet smile, then added more seriously, “But really. What have you been up to?”

Chan ran a hand through his hair, his voice a little rough now, worn down by the long day.

“I teach music,” he said. “At a private school. Guitar and piano, mostly. A bit of theory, some practice. Nothing glamorous.”

Your eyebrows lifted, genuinely surprised. “That actually suits you.”

He chuckled, tilting his head. ‘You think so?’

You nodded. “You always looked the most at ease with a guitar in your hands.”

A faint smile touched his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It’s... peaceful,” he said. “Predictable. Safe.” He paused, then added, “That’s where I met Hana. Yuna’s mom. She used to work there.”

“Oh.” It slipped out before you could stop it. You cleared your throat, adjusting your grip on the mug. “That's nice.”

You never thought you'd be having a casual conversation about the mother of Chan’s child. And yet, here you were. Hana. The name sat oddly in your mind. You wondered what kind of woman she was. Judging by Yuna’s smile, she was probably beautiful, the kind of beauty that stole breath and turned heads. Maybe she was the type of woman people gravitated toward without even realizing. You also wondered if he had loved her the way he once loved you or if it was something steadier. Something built more on trust than passion. Maybe building a life with someone required a different kind of love. Maybe he found happiness in that. The kind you could never have given him.

He said nothing more. He just took a sip of coffee and nodded slowly, the weight of something unsaid passing briefly between you. The way he spoke of her, neutral, factual, without affection, made you curious to know more.

He looked at you then. “And you?”

That simple question softened something in your chest. You let out a breath, a small smile blooming on your lips as you leaned back against the counter, mug still warm between your fingers.

“It’s... intense,” you began. “I work a lot. No fixed schedule. No time to breathe most days.” He was listening, really listening, his coffee forgotten in his hands. “But I love it,” you said, your voice glowing with quiet excitement. “Becoming a different person, even for a little while, and making people feel something real. It’s chaotic, exhausting, terrifying sometimes... but God, Chan. It’s everything I dreamed of. I feel alive.”

He didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on you, but not exactly, it was more like he was caught up in the glare of something.

“I finished filming a movie last month,” you said, your voice softer now. “Nothing flashy, but... it meant a lot to me.” Then you caught yourself, lips twitching in embarrassment. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“No,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. He leaned forward just a little, as if your words pulled him in without permission. “Don’t stop.”

You looked at him then. Really looked at him. Then you smiled.

You looked at him then. Really looked. And for a second, the kitchen changed. Or maybe it was just the light above the sink, casting a warm, golden hue over the tiles and countertops, softening the world around you. Or the fact that he hadn’t blinked once while you were speaking like he was afraid the moment might disappear if he looked away. A current moved through the quiet, slow and heavy like honey. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and his fingers began tapping lightly against the side of his mug. And for one insane, fleeting moment, he thought about kissing you. Right there between the hum of the fridge and the quiet breath of his daughter.

He imagined it: your lips, familiar and unfamiliar all at once, tasting of coffee and memories. The way his hand might hover near your jaw before finding the courage to touch. How the ache between you might dissolve into something simpler, something whole. He blinked, and the thought evaporated with the steam curling up between your cups.

He blinked and the thought disappeared, dissipating in the steam between their mugs.

“You really did it,” he said finally, voice hushed, almost reverent. “You went and made it happen.”

You softened at the sound of his voice. “Yes.”

He’d spent so long resenting the version of you that lived behind a screen. The one who smiled in interviews. The one whose face popped up in trailers he refused to watch. That you were easy to turn off. Easy to hate. But this version standing barefoot in his kitchen, mug in hand, heart soft in your chest, this one, he didn’t know how to hate.

It was getting late.

Neither of you said it, but it hung between you like a thin thread pulling taut. You glanced over your shoulder at Yuna, still curled up on the couch like a question mark, bunny pressed to her cheek. Then you set your mug down, slowly.

“I should go.”

Chan slowly got up, placing his mug on the table. “Yeah... I'll walk you out.”

You tiptoed past the little girl, careful not to stir the peace of the room, and slipped your coat from the armchair. When he opened the door, the night greeted you, crisp and scented with pine and something sweet, like honeysuckle trailing from a neighbor’s fence. You passed him on your way out, your arm brushing his. Neither of you moved away.

You stepped out onto the porch together. Everything was quiet. The kind of silence that echoes in your ears.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said softly, turning to face him.

He looked at you like he was still back in the kitchen, still somewhere inside that memory that hadn’t even fully formed. Then he blinked, his expression softening like thawing ice.

“Thank you,” he said. “For being with her. For being... here.”

You smiled, your breath forming little clouds in the cold.

Your breath came out in small clouds now, floating like ghosts between you. You didn’t quite know what to do with your hands, or how to say goodbye, so you followed instinct instead. You stepped forward and hugged him. It was brief. Your hand ran lightly across his shoulder. But his body stiffened in surprise, and for a second, just one, his arm twitched toward you, as if fighting muscle memory, as if his chest remembered holding you before his brain could catch up.

When you pulled back, he was looking at you again. But this time, his gaze didn’t stop at your eyes. It fell slowly to your mouth. The distance between you was barely a breath. And in that breath lived every question neither of you had asked. Every kiss you didn’t get to steal. If he leaned in now, if he let the years and guilt and fear dissolve would it break something, or fix it?

He didn’t find out.

You walked toward the garden, the cold nipping at your skin, but you didn’t care. Not tonight. Your heart was warm enough. And it was still beating, hard and alive, full of something that almost but not quite, felt like hope.

♡ taglist: @strsforjsb @robinnotgood24 @kannaexe @idiotmaterial @iovecb97 @inejghafawifesblog @hash2013 @skzfangirl143 @gncbnahc @stay3096 @starjely @alisonyus @mangalovesanime-blog @hanniebunch @nikatsuuu @downingmorphine @woopdeedoopdeedoop @tsunderelino @lomllino @lisaskz @sadgvddess @skzswife @hissnoopy @lee-knows-cats @lixies-favorite-cookie @hash2013 @11thenightwemet11 @hanadulsetaad @alondra6011 @skinnyjeans-tanktops @ilovvesleepp @hyunetopia @maddy24207

[straykeedz-recs]

things i know that i can't have

jake's life was hard enough before he fell for you—balancing uni, football, and being a good christian son. in some cruel twist of fate, sleeping with you has only made things harder—and, according to sunghoon (and scripture), damned him to hell the first time he thought about it.

pairing ✩ jake sim x fem!reader

genres: college au, (established) fwb to lovers, smut, fluff, angst

warnings: minors dni, mild religious exploration and guilt, strained parental relationship.......... deeply unserious and a bit melodramatic at times, jake's pov, jake crashes out every few paragraphs, football player jake (british), jakeyn are so nct dream (young and freaky), surface level gatsby analysis, creative liberties taken w the location of freshwater fish.. author loves jake so jake must suffer, and one peep show quote

word count: 33,666

playlist: ...what are we lizzy mcalpine, all my ghosts lizzy mcalpine, north clairo, 20191009 i like her mac demarco, 10:36 beabadoobee, lover/friend kaytranada and rochelle jordan

fic taglist: @heechwe @yunjardi @fancypeacepersona @skyearby @kimjkejyy @sanriowoozzz @ii-mimii @pochakkeu @xylatox @seung-log @anofi @immelissaaa @mssishipi @somuchdard @yuniesluv @m3wkledreamy @jakesimfromstatefarm

author's note: uhm.. if you have been tagged in this fic fifteen thousand times, i sincerely apologise 😭😭😭 the powers that be have been working against me, but im letting go and letting god 🤞 i had a lot of fun writing this and i hope you love bi disaster jesus lover jake as much as i do......i hope u all enjoy the fic! do let me know ur thoughts (positive only on this one), as always thank u emma for beta reading, miss u so bad :'(

But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body go into hell. 

— Matthew 5:28-30, English Standard Version. 

There it is, in black and white—red and white, since Sunghoon has a red letter edition. Jake skims the passage again, certain words sticking out this time: lustful intent, adultery, with her. Underlined, italics and bold, like they could be missed. If only. It’s too late now; they’re etched on his retinas, branded on his skin. Lodged deep in his chest, taken root already. It hardly seems fair that a single thought could hold so much weight.

Or, in Jake’s case, many, many thoughts.

Shuddering, he closes the leather bound book softly, a slow exhale ripping out of him as he glances up at his best friend. “You mean I.. can’t even think about fucking her?” he whispers, brows touching in the middle.

A crack of thunder splits the air. Jake flinches. The sound lingers, rumbling over the grey sky. Meant for him. An answer from Heaven—from God Himself. Condemnation, more like. With bated breath, he turns his head slowly, expecting his judgment to be scrawled in the clouds, true divine intervention. But nothing. Just grey. Heavy, oppressive grey.

Sunghoon laughs, a strange little chuckle Jake has never heard before, but knows immediately that he doesn’t like. He adjusts his tie. Shifting the Windsor knot, smoothing the blade—a calculation in his movements that leaves Jake wondering if his friend hasn’t orchestrated this whole situation, weather and all.

“Afraid not, buddy.” Sunghoon’s tone is light, but there’s something solemn about it all—the rain, the smart clothes, this terrible, terrible realisation. 

March’s wind nips at Jake’s cheeks, stinging them red no doubt as rain splashes around his feet, wetting his socks in tiny, cold drops. He shivers but doesn’t leave, watching as a smirk spreads over Sunghoon’s lips. A pit stirs in Jake’s stomach as Sunghoon looks over both shoulders before leaning in. 

His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “But if thinking about it is as bad as doing it, you might as well just go ahead.” 

Jake stares, incredulous, takes a step back as if Sunghoon’s suggestion might smite him where he stands. “Of course, you think that. You lost your virginity behind the worship tent at camp four years ago. Forgive me if I don’t consider you a sound moral compass, Sunghoon.”

“I prayed about it after.” He shrugs. “Clean slate.” 

“Hoon,” Jake cries, exasperated, mortified. “You can’t intentionally sin and think you’ll be absolved because you prayed about it after.” 

“Why not? Isn’t that what forgiveness is for?” 

Glaring, Jake’s jaw works soundlessly. Where to start? At Sunghoon’s audacity or the fact he doesn’t even have a proper answer. Arguing won’t change anything. The whys-or-why-nots of it all are Sunghoon’s cross to bear. Not that he cares enough to. That’s his problem, and his saving grace, if you ask Jake—he makes everything sound so easy, like there isn’t a fuck load of consequence attached.  

A frustrated sigh escapes Jake as he glances down at his watch, rain warping the digits on his Casio. It’s almost eleven. Almost an hour since service started, and they’re still standing at the door. A gust of wind whips through his coat. 

“Just get inside,” Jake mutters, tone sharp, more from the cold than anything else.

Unmoving, Sunghoon frowns, lips pursed in genuine contemplation. Jake might be endeared if he didn’t know any better. 

“Can I ask you something?” Sunghoon’s voice is lighter now, curious, sincere. 

Jake doesn’t have time for this—but it's Sunghoon. So, he pinches his nose, bracing himself for whatever’s coming. “What?”

“Do you think you’re better than me because you lost your virginity in a bed?” 

Taken aback by the question’s absurdity, Jake blinks. Wonders briefly if he misheard. A nervous laugh bubbles out of him, but Sunghoon’s expression morphs into something unreadable—calm, expectant maybe. Genuinely awaiting an answer. Jake tilts his head, considering it before letting out a short and decisive huff. 

“Yes, actually. I do.” 

r/Christianity 

u/footballfan1511 | 2m

How bad is premarital sex, really? (Need quick answers!!!)

I (20M) have been having sex with my friend (20F) for three weeks now. I knew it was wrong, but she’s everything (very hot, totally, completely sexy), so I didn’t care. BUT I just saw this verse (Matthew 5:28-30) and apparently it’s a sin just to THINK about it??? 

The last time we did ‘it’ was this morning before church (sorry), and I was supposed to go over there tonight, but I’ve been freaking out about that verse all day…….. idk what to do but I really like her, so much, and I still want this, with her. Please give me advice .. 

Every Thursday night. Ten p.m. sharp. Almost no exceptions. You call Jake, talking shit for as long as it takes one thing to lead to another. Tonight is an exception—you had friends over, rescheduled for midnight. Jake lies in bed, hair still damp from his post-football training shower, counting each minute as it passes. 23:55. His leg is shaking. 23:56. He sits up straight, jolting as if waking from a nightmare, nerves sharp and restless as his thumbs fly over the keyboard, texting Sunghoon. 

Jake: What about phone sex?

Jake: Like if I don’t think about her while I do it? 

Sunghoon’s groan reaches Jake through the thin walls of their shared flat. Drawn-out and long-suffering. Read receipt. 23:57. Three dots. 

Hoon: I can’t tell you what to think, but if you’re asking me then you probably alr know

Hoon: Also..??? Do you think you can jack your shit on the phone without thinking about her 😭😭😭

Jake snorts despite himself, much too loud for the quiet. Echoing as if even the room disapproves. He closes his eyes, shakes his head. Palm to his cheek. A low smack, half-joking, half-sincere. Guilt snakes around him, a hot, unwelcome coil that won’t ease. Jake gets the sense that the choice ahead — to answer or not to answer — might drastically skew his life one way or another. 

A minute early. 23:59. Your name on his screen. Phone humming in his hold, pulse lashing his throat. On the other end of the line, before he has the chance to weigh his options, you dead the call—making his decision for him. 

Jake’s heart stumbles, clumsy in his chest. He thinks of the verse, sharp and prickly—crown of thorns on heavy head. He has been thinking about it since Saturday morning. Extra training with Team B, avoiding you, six-thirty wake-ups to join Sunghoon at the rink. Ice-cold mornings melting into afternoons. No matter what he tries, it always comes back. Lustful intent, adultery, with her. And despite his best efforts to pray for rapture, Thursday has come, and Jake has lived to see it. 

A minute late. 00:01. Your name on his screen. Hovering thumb. He knows that phone sex and sex-sex aren’t the same thing, Matthew didn’t even have a phone—but if he could’ve, and he could’ve known you, and you wanted him? Jake sighs. He should answer. If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off, and throw it away. The words sink their senile claws into him, holding on for dear, frail life. His phone stills in his palm. 

You don’t call again. You never have. If this phone call is going to happen, it’s up to Jake to make it so. This knowledge and its weight multiply by the second. An itch he doesn’t try to scratch, knowing he won’t be able to reach it. Another agonising nine minutes trudge along. 00:10. His phone buzzes on his chest, and he knows it’s you before he looks. Two texts.

YN: Said you’d stay up for me Yunie :((( 

YN: You don’t think I’m worth the wait?

Reading your messages through the notifications, he’s having a hard time convincing himself not to reply. Not to tell you he waited, that of course, you’re worth it. His guilt loosens, making space for his desire to reassure you—he cannot rule out the possibility that this desire outweighs his guilt. Silence settles in his room, stretched thin and strange around him. He sighs. 

YN: Attachments: 2 images

YN: Wanted to hear your reaction, but you can tell me when you’re up ig.

YN: Night, loser :P 

Butterflies, sudden and bright—teenaged. Foolish. Tucked under the notification, the photos dare him to look. His curiosity clicks it, and the first picture fills the screen, yanking his breath from his lungs. 

Most of your face is cut off, showing only your lips—pouty and glossy and pretty. Pulling at him in a way he’s not quite equipped to name. This would be enough for him, an innocent selfie, you and those pretty eyes, that smile. More than enough—pulse quickening just thinking about it. His gaze lingers on your lips, stuck for a while. Then, unintentionally, his eyes flick lower. Hair fanned over your pillow, breasts peeking out from under black lace. Fuck. A sight he’s seen a million times, but somehow, each time feels like the first. Jake gulps. Holy shit. He ignores the throbbing in his pants, how much tighter they are—he won’t give in. No matter how badly he’s craving it. He’s stronger than that. With his eyes, he traces your lips. Ogles until his screen dims, locking the picture away again.

Picture two. Fuck. You on your stomach, grainy in your webcam. Arched back, black lace panties over your hips. Fuck. The lingerie, the shape of your body.. Seeing you like this, so perfect and all for him—it’s taking every last shred of his self-control not to get in his car and rush over to you. Want, need, tugs at him. A tether he can’t break. His phone locks. 

Enough is enough. He drags his feet all the way back to the shower, oppressive cold water hitting him. Doing absolutely nothing for his revolting need. This isn’t working—not the water, not the attempt at self-control. Not when he’s already hard and aching against his stomach. Soft breasts. Round ass. Wet—his hand moves instinctively, forehead resting on the cool tiles. He closes his eyes, your body clear in the dark. Full lips. Arched back. He’s breathless when he finishes, head bowed as heat coils low in his stomach. The water carries his release away. Nose crinkled as it swirls around the drain, cringing at the sight—guilt, shame curling around him.

Again, he dries off, pulls on clean pyjamas, and drags his feet to bed. On his side, he closes his eyes, your body like a brand behind his eyelids, thoughts filling the quiet in his room. Exhaustion however, is its own kind of mercy, and eventually, pulls him under.

Everything is sharper in the morning, clear in the cool light of the college campus. Bare branches cast shifting shadows over stone paths, breeze stealing the sun’s warmth. The weight of his dreamless sleep clings to him, stalks him through the courtyard on his quest to find Jeno—until he sees you and stops in his tracks. Phone in hand, lip between teeth, standing by the library doors. You aren’t doing anything special, frowning at your screen, but Jake’s heart rate spikes anyway, cheeks heating against the cold. He blinks, taking you in. Hair billowing around you, sunlight caught in its edges. Affection bubbles under his skin, tugs him towards you before he knows it, his arm falling over your shoulder.

You flinch, glancing up, startled. Recognition narrows your wide eyes. “Ugh, let go of me, you asshole,” you say, freeing yourself. 

Surrendering, Jake steps back, hands raised. “Me, asshole?” He points at himself, feigning offence. “What did I do?”

A frustrated laugh. “Are you serious?” Pressing your cute palm to his chest, you shove him. Not hard, but enough to make him lose his balance, rocking a little. “Yes, you, asshole.” 

He doesn’t speak. 

You scoff, blank faced, like you don’t care, like you didn’t just shove him. “I sent you those photos, and you ignored me.” Stoic. Detached. 

Those photos. Even in reference, they work him up. Too vivid—mainly because he took another look when he woke up. He had to turn off his phone to stop, shoving it into the bottom of his backpack. He didn’t feel guilty about it then, but good grief, he feels like shit now. Shame burning his nape, creeping over his shoulders. At least he isn’t thinking about that Bible verse anymore. Lustful intent. With her. He wasn’t thinking about it. He tenses, sighing. 

“I wasn’t ignoring you.” 

“You were.” Your voice is quiet—vulnerability inching through your cool exterior. “At least turn your read receipts off if you’re going to pretend you didn’t see them.” Your arms drop stiffly. 

A hesitant step towards you, gaze searching yours. “Hey.” Soft, whispered almost. “I wasn’t trying to ignore you.”

On-campus commotion scores the quiet between you — overlapping conversation, bike bells ringing — and you inspect him before you speak. “Right. So you saw the photos and came so hard you passed out?”

Jake licks his lips, embarrassed. Wonders briefly if he’s been so transparent about your effect on him, that you’ve quite accurately hit the nail on the head—even in jest. “Something like that.” At this, you scoff, shoving him again—lighter. He chuckles, breathy and relieved. “Sorry,” he says sincerely. “I really am sorry. I loved the photos, seriously. You know I did.” 

Finally, you sigh, a reluctant smile twitching at your lips. “Whatever, asshole,” you say, voice a cute mumble with no real bite.

“How about I make it up to you tonight? Show you my reaction in person?” 

“You’re not even free tonight,” you point out. 

Shit. You’re right—he has a group project to work on. He should do the sensible thing and say no. “For you, I can be,” he says instead. He’ll figure it out. 

“Shut up.” A grin stretches over your lips, and relief washes over him. Finally, a good answer where you’re concerned—until your face tilts into shock. Opening your bag, you bring out a tub. “Don’t overreact, but I made you something,” you tell him, voice lighter as you pull off the lid, pushing foil out of the way. “I know you prefer milk chocolate, but.. it’s White Day, so I just thought—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought.”

This isn’t the first time you’ve done something nice for Jake, this isn’t even the first time you’ve made him something, but it feels different—the way everything to do with you feels different now. He stares into the container for a second, suspecting he’ll wake up in bed if he blinks, so he tries not to. Eyes drying, hurting—nothing changes when he succumbs. 

As far as he knows, you haven’t baked anything since your shared high school Home Economics class. He chose it to soften the blow of his STEM-heavy course load, you chose it because he did—getting all the way to lesson three before switching for Music. Scones were the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. His weren’t perfect, he’ll admit it — softer than he’d have liked — but yours? Yours came out of the oven soggy and burnt all at once. 

And now, here you are, handing him cookies you made. Edible-looking cookies. For White Day. For Jake. How is it White Day already? One whole month since you first made out with him on Jeong Jaehyun’s birthday—one whole month since you took him home and had your way with him. 

He tears his eyes from the cookies to look at you again. You’re smiling, eyes wide, sparkling, and Jake has to remind himself to breathe. “Thank you.” Fondness flares against his ribs, too big to contain. He swallows hard, blinking too fast. “You—” His voice comes out faint, clearing his throat doesn’t help. “You didn’t have to.” 

“I know..” You trail off. “I originally wanted to kill two birds with one stone and bake you a pie, but.. that was a little out of my depth.” 

“A pie?” 

“You know, March Fourteenth.. Three point one-four.. Pi day.” You tilt your head. “I’m surprised you forgot about that, maybe you’re not as much of a nerd as I thought.”

“I’m surprised you know about that.” 

“You’re the one who told me.” Closing the container, you hand it over to him, fingers brushing his for long enough that he loses his train of thought. You’re smiling fondly, completely stealing his attention until, suddenly, a pair of hands clap down on his shoulders, making him flinch. 

“I’ve been looking for you, dude. We need to go,” Jeno says, his grip firm, already steering Jake away.

Your name sounds weird coming from Jeno’s mouth when he greets you. Too bright, too happy. Jake can picture his shit-eating, Samoyed-esque grin, those cute smiling eyes—never so uncharming as they are right now. Not only has Jeno interrupted, he’s towering over Jake like he’s trying to prove a point, like being taller than 180 cm means anything to anyone. And you, tiny smile, soft wave—are you.. shy? 

There’s a pang in his chest he can’t quite name. A protective instinct, maybe. Jealousy? He sighs. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You nod, eyes warm, fixed on Jake, and it’s enough to anchor him even as Jeno shoves him to class.

The moment Jake slides into his seat, he fishes his phone from his bag, turning it on. A message from you tops his notifications. Come over after class and make it up to me? A smirk curls his lips as he reads it, shaking his head a little as he reacts with a thumbs-up. The heat in his cheeks lingers longer than he’d like, even as his lecturer arrives and hands out the register. 

Why Jake signed up for a residential architecture module, he has no real idea, but he met Jeno in this class, and he’ll take whatever wins he can get. Jeno likes architecture. Loves it—more than anyone else Jake knows. He designs structures in his free time, uses words like façade and fenestration when he catches Jake playing The Sims in class, and has a strong stance on panelised vs volumetric construction. 

Jeno goes to Building Design and Technology to learn, and Jake goes so he can sign his name on the register and get marks for attendance. 

Time slogs on, an endless mass, numbers added to the clock as his leg bounces under the desk. Thoughts of you consume him. After it happened, Jake thought often about that first night you shared—this one-off miracle. Five loaves and two fish. Lazarus resurrected. Never to happen again, but it did. And it has, so many times now that his memories are starting to bleed into each other. Details lost to frequency. Yet that night, those firsts — the softness of your lips on his, the birthmark on your right hip — always come back to him with such clarity, that he is, again, shocked to realise it’s been a month. 

A bigger, more jagged thing haunts him too, cleaves through the sweetness—the way you acted the morning after. He woke up to you walking into your room, wrapped up in a towel and whatever you were typing on your phone. Hair damp, skin dewy. Jake still wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t dreamt the whole thing. You didn’t even glance at him until he cleared his throat.

“Are you hungry? I’m not really in a cooking mood, but I can order something for you. Or we could go to Samantha’s?” you suggested, voice remarkably clear, loud in the Saturday morning quiet. 

Jake blinked, staring like you’d spoken another language—though the idea of a breakfast roll from your favourite spot was tempting. “Yeah. Cool. Sure. Whatever’s easiest.” And as if stumbling over his words wasn’t enough, his voice cracked.

You frowned like he was the one acting weird. “You okay, Jakey?”

A drop of water slipped down your cheek slowly, the way your sweat had last night. He sits up suddenly, tugging the duvet over his chest, oddly vulnerable in this position. “Yeah. Sure..” He hesitated, twisting the fabric around his finger. “Do you maybe.. want to talk?”

“Talk?” You tilted your head, brows furrowed. “About..”

Ungraceful silence trampled over you both as Jake racked his brain for something to say. “It’s just.. Last night, before.. You said you wanted to talk about something,” he said eventually. 

“Hmm..” You sighed, thinking for a while before shrugging. “If it was important, I’ll remember.” 

It was all your idea—to kiss, to invite him upstairs after he walked you home, to.. well. You know. It felt like something, like all those years of quietly pining after you hadn’t been for nothing. A real breakthrough, finally. But there you were, acting like… whatever that was. 

When you got to Samantha’s, you let him pay for your roll and scone, and joked with him as usual while he drove you to your workout class as if you hadn’t been begging him to dick you down five hours prior. All while Jake was still there, stuck in the moment, replaying the feeling of your lips and your soft skin. In his car, parked outside your gym, you leaned over the centre console and kissed him, soft and fleeting. 

“See you, Jakey!” you said, voice bright as you got out of the car and waved goodbye. 

Sometimes, if he thinks hard enough, he can feel those first curious touches again, see the look in your eyes before you leant up to kiss him. And the butterflies in his stomach tangle, vicious flapping that scrapes his insides. Arguably, the worst of it all — the glaring detail he always fixates on — is that you were both completely sober. You didn’t want to feel like shit at Pilates in the morning; he was still recovering from his antics the night before. No distractions, no excuses, just you two.

Jeno calls out an answer, voice tugging Jake back into the present. Heat creeps up his neck as all eyes shift in their direction, and he sinks lower in his seat, hoping his laptop screen is enough to hide behind. He glances at his calendar widget, immediately reminded that he has to finish his part of his group research paper—a task he has to get done before he leaves for his away game tomorrow afternoon. A task he has to get done now if he wants to see you tonight. 

All it takes is a few focused minutes, a couple quick messages to his group, and he’s sharing the finished document before class is over. So when his lecturer finally dismisses everyone, instead of heading to the library to go over the lesson, he finds himself here—on your doorstep, hands in pockets, pulse thudding in his ears. It’s not like he was running or anything, just walking with purpose, that’s all.

Seeing you does nothing for his breathlessness. You’re wearing one of his hoodies — when did you take that? — neckline slightly askew, showing part of your shoulder. It’s a little too big for you, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs and for more than a second, Jake tries not say, aww, out loud. 

A grin stretches over his lips. “Hey, gorgeous.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, squaring your shoulders, eyes cut in a way that screams, I’m mad at you, but not really. It’s a new dynamic that he’s still getting used to: your feigned disinterest, his irresistible charm. Your lips twitch, a short, reluctant laugh slipping out, and you roll your eyes like he’s inconvenienced you.

A split second passes before you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him close. He hugs you tighter than he should, savouring the smell of his detergent on you.

“Can’t stay mad at me for too long, huh?”

“Get off of me,” you mutter, face pressed into his chest, grip on him tightening.

Eventually, you let him in, smiling as he takes off his shoes by the door. He follows you, your footsteps soft and familiar against the carpet. Sweetness lingers in the air, and when you reach the kitchen, his eyes land immediately on the containers stacked on the counter—both crammed full of cookies.

“Wow.” He brings a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. “And here I thought you made those just for me.” 

You sigh, barely meeting his gaze as you approach the counter. “You’re so dramatic,” you murmur, the words almost lost under your breath. Opening the container, you tip it towards him. “Ever heard of a test batch?”

Laid out in shades of golden brown and charred black are your several attempts. Some are burnt at the edges, others rock-solid or collapsed into thin, brittle discs. Misshapen, imperfect—each a testament to your determination. His stomach flips, a pang of affection he tries not to wear too openly. 

“I didn’t feel right about wasting them, so Jimin and I are going to be big, brave girls and eat them,” you explain. “This isn’t even all of them; she took some to Aeri’s this morning.” 

“Oh,” Jake says with a slow nod, taking it all in. He takes one from the top—Communion wafer-thin, square. “See, this makes sense.” It crunches between his teeth, too crispy, but not bad. Honestly, he likes it, chewing with a smile as the sweetness hits all the same. 

When he reaches for another, your hand swats his away, fingers firm but not unkind. “I made you twenty perfect cookies and you want to eat these?”

He shrugs, smiling down at you. “What? I’m not allowed to be a big, brave girl too?”

Your expression falters, the teasing edge giving way to something softer, warmer. You look at him for just a beat too long, and then your fingers are brushing the hair from his face. Your smile is a quiet, private curve on your lips. “You’re the biggest, bravest girl I know.” 

Jake isn’t sure why, but the words settle nicely in his chest. 

Before long, you’re standing side by side at the stove watching a pot of ramen simmer quietly, steam curling into the air. In an effort to avoid extra dishes, you snap apart two pairs of disposable chopsticks for the two of you to use—as if you ever have to worry about doing dishes when he’s here. He blames the steam from the pot for the warmth spreading all over him, eating bite after bite of spicy ramen. Gossip Girl plays on your laptop, your eyes glued to the screen as its glow dances over your face. He can’t ignore the fuzziness taking over him as you share your dinner straight from the pot, chopsticks and hands bumping occasionally. 

Jake washes the pot in the sink. Gentle clink of steel on steel, soft murmur of running water, you in the doorway, eyes on him. He is overwhelmed by how domestic, how easy this is—and how desperately he wishes he could stay in this moment forever. 

With his hands dry, he follows you to your room, neck flushing under his collar as he shuts the door. Leaning against it, he watches you sink into the mattress, setting up your laptop. Chuckling, you pat the empty spot on the bed. “I don’t bite, Jakey.” 

Jake knows now, from experience, that you absolutely bite, so your reassurance only concerns him. But still, like the big, brave girl he is, he crosses the room and sits on the bed, leaving a respectful, Jesus-approved distance between you. The newness of this, its fragility, throws him off. Not too long ago, you were fighting men off with a stick. In fact, Jake was half-convinced you’d leave Jaehyun’s party with Na Jaemin. A guy you haven’t said anything about since pre-friends-with-benefitsgate—an observation he finds only mildly relieving. He’s too busy thinking about what it means, if anything, to relax into the fact that you’re with him now. 

If whatever you two are doing can be considered ‘with’ each other. 

Sharing a pot of ramen and watching Gossip Girl is easy enough though. Familiar. The two of you wouldn’t have made it to the middle of season four if he wasn’t enjoying it. Like this, far enough apart for an extra person to sit between you, two whole episodes start and finish with neither of you reaching out to touch the other. Jake would like to think — on his part — it’s only proof of his master level self-control, wanting you so desperately but holding back. Proving to himself, to you that this isn’t just about sex or whatever else for him. That Jake can behave and make rational decisions when it comes to you. 

And maybe, if this was a different Friday, in a different week, or Sunghoon hadn’t shown him that verse, he might have believed that. But Sunghoon had shown him that verse, and Jake is thinking a bit too much about his right hand, and the sinning, the cutting off and throwing away of the whole thing. About Hell and the suffocating weight of one decision—an all-consuming decision, worth his potential damnation.

On your part, he has no clue what the hold up is, seeing as this is the first time you’ve made it through a Gossip Girl blast without starting something, never mind watching a full episode. By now, your hand would normally have found its way into his pants, or your lips to his neck. But there you sit, unmoving, focused as ever, like on your tenth rewatch you still care about whether Blair or Dan gets the internship at W Magazine. 

As if you can read his mind, or the part of it that you occupy, you reach into his underwear and take a hold of his dick. You go through all the familiar motions — twisting your wrist while you stroke it, thumb over his tip when you reach it — and Jake, as always, eats it up, melting like wax in your fist. He is only mildly humiliated by how much you get to him, how quickly he loses his shit when it comes to you, shuddering and whining, hips bucking in a matter of strokes. And then, you stop—hand slipping away like nothing happened, like he’s not hard as a rock in his pants, precum staining his underwear because of you.

Jake — fighting for breath — can only stare at you, watching you ignore him for the show instead. A few minutes pass like this until you sigh, hitting pause with a dramatic motion. “What are you looking at?”

“You.” 

At this, you roll your eyes, but Jake grabs your wrist. Somehow, he’s only now appreciating you in his hoodie. Admiring how it sits on you—sleeves too long, fit too baggy. Historically, Jake’s generally emaciated look hasn’t really lended itself to seeing you, or anyone else, in his clothes, so it’s tripping him out how much he likes it. The way the fabric pools around you, covering your body completely. 

“Ugh,” you mutter, trying and failing to hide a smile. “Quit looking at me like that.” He’s not sure why you insist on playing this game, on why you make it seem like you’re doing him a favour when you want him just as much as he wants you—but he won’t pretend he doesn’t like working for it, like it’s not that much better when you cave. 

“Like what?” he asks, playing along in a soft voice. 

“All horny and.. weird.” 

Jake laughs. “You think I look weird?”

“A little.” You shrug. 

“Shit,” he mutters. “You’re not into that? I thought my off-putting nature was part of my charm.”

This makes you smile, leaning in without closing the gap. Instead, you tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear, your touch making his stomach flip. He can’t take it any longer, being so close and doing nothing about it, so he wraps his fingers around your wrist to hold you there, and closes the gap himself. It’s everything—it’s always everything. The warmth of your lips against his, the way you hold him, like it’s more than just a kiss for you too. 

There’s nothing he likes more than this. 

Biting down on his bottom lip, you pull away a little. “Is this part of your grand plan to make it up to me?” 

Jake hums, dick throbbing in his pants. “Yeah, baby.” He nods, still attached to your mouth. “Been thinking about it all day.”

“It’s working.” 

A breathless laugh—amused, turned on, taken aback. He pulls away, patting his lap and you don’t hesitate to straddle him, sparks between your bodies. Palms on your hips, fingers grazing the soft fabric of your yoga pants. A stir in his chest—heart hammering when he looks at you, breathless. Thank you, God, he thinks, sincerely. I needed this. His gratitude tangles quickly with guilt, uncertainty. Am I doing the right thi—your hand rests on his, snaps him out of it. Eyes soft, lips parted, want written all over your face. So beautiful, and so different from the resting frustrated face you seem to wear whenever he’s around—which he won’t pretend to dislike. 

“Wanted to come over here and see you last night.”

Sheepishly, you twist the cuff of your sleeve between your fingers. A stark change from your usual behaviour, rarely reserved about anything — at least not with him — and so mouthy until he gets his hands on you. “I wish you did,” you mumble, looking away.

“I should’ve, baby, but I’m here now,” he says softly.

Another kiss—deeper, slower. An act of restitution — one of many to come — the way his tongue moves against yours, eager to keep to his word. He reaches for the curve of your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh under your hoodie. The swell of your breast against his palm, cool zipper brushing his knuckles. He tugs on it just enough for you to smile against his lips. 

“Can I take this off?” 

You nod, clearly flustered, worked up already. 

Pulling at the zipper, he savours every inch of skin that comes into view. A shaky inhale seeing your bra—the same one from the pictures, having the exact same effect. Holy shit. Lace under his fingers, touching it as gently as he can manage like it’s sacred, because to him it is. He can’t look away, gaze fixed, reverent. Holy shit. Jake clears his throat, mouth suddenly dry, like he’s seeing you for the first time. The pictures don’t do you justice, not even close. And he loves the pictures. 

You’re watching with lidded eyes, and swollen lips. He cups your cheek. “My pretty girl. So gorgeous,” he says, though it doesn’t seem enough. With two languages to choose from, Jake should have the words. But he doesn’t. Not for this—for you. 

Heat diffuses beneath his hand, coating your cheek as you turn into his touch, hiding your face. Smiling lips pressing a muffled word into his palm. “And?”

“And I’m sorry about last night.” 

You raise an intrigued brow, no longer hiding. “And?” 

“I’m an idiot.” 

A grin, a glorious grin as you nod. “I just wanted you to say it wouldn’t happen again, but this is way better.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “I’m a big idiot, and you’re the smartest girl I know. It’s not going to happen again, I promise.” 

Sudden betrayal in your squinted eyes, clutching your hoodie over your chest, his palm trapped against the cup of your bra—he almost thanks you. Deeply unimpressed, you scoff. “You know other girls?”

Charmed, Jake smiles, freeing his hand. “Don’t worry, baby. None of them make me as nervous as you.” A kiss before you can respond, pulling your chest flush with his. You hum against his lips, whimpering when he rolls his hips into yours. Hands on your back, quickly unclasping your bra. He nips at the spot below your ear, making you shiver. “And none of them get me this hard either.”

“I know,” you say simply, but your breathlessness undercuts your confidence, and steals his patience. 

Taking your hoodie and bra off, he guides you onto your back, settling between your spread thighs like it’s where he belongs. At a loss for words, he squeezes your hip, eyes catching on every part of you. Hard nipples, soft plane of your stomach—nothing about you he doesn’t love. Jake gulps, awestruck, always awestruck. Overwhelmed by the weight of how much he wants this. Wants you. 

“So perfect, baby,” he whispers, finally. “So, so perfect.” 

A smile tugs at your lips, hands coming up to cover your face. “Shut up,” you grumble. 

Huffed laughter slips out of him, endeared. Aching slightly, wondering if you don’t know you’re the most breathtaking thing he’s ever seen. He tugs your hands away, holding them in his, lips brushing your knuckles before he leans in and pecks yours.  

Slow, desperate kisses along the curve of your jaw, trailing the length of your neck to your shoulder. He lingers, sucking pretty love bites onto your collarbone, soothing the skin with his tongue after. A shudder, as you pull his hair, whimpering under him. He could stay like this all day, forever if you let him. Lips on your nipple, finally, licking, biting. 

Your moan is instant, pulled from somewhere deep, and he groans at the sound, tongue flicking just to hear it again. “Jake,” you say, breathless. Even better. “Jake, please.”

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he says, nosing between your breasts, the warm skin there heady, dizzying. 

“Want your mouth—can’t wait any longer.”

His dick twitches as he lifts his head. Takes you in—your pouty lips, ruffled hair, sweat beading on your skin. Jake is not going to come in his pants again because of you. No matter how much it feels like he is. That won’t happen. It can’t. He’s an adult man with self-control. He tells himself these things over and over, willing them to be true, even though he knows better.

Jake leans up, pressing a kiss to your lips. He can’t get enough. “I’m not going to make you wait,” he says—a blatant lie. He has every intention to make you wait, at least a little. 

His fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, slipping beneath, eyes wide when he feels the heat of you. Fuck. You take his middle finger easily, pulling him in, clenching around it, and the choked sob you let out sends a sharp spike of need along his spine. He lets his thumb brush your clit, slow, deliberate. You’re too worked up to focus on kissing now, squirming underneath him, nails digging into his forearm. His lips trail your throat again, more marks, his own breath coming faster, a little unsteady—almost as wrecked as you. 

“I feel like—” You pause, mouth falling open to let out a harsh exhale. “I’ve been waiting for a while, baby, need it.” 

For reasons he doesn’t fully understand, there’s just something about hearing that word. Baby. So rare from you, uttered only at your most vulnerable, that always undoes him. Has him acting at your beck and call without a second thought—so it can’t come as a surprise when he tears your pants off, presses his lips to your core, and groans hungrily, breathing you in. 

There’s a certain reverence to it all, he can’t help it—it just comes naturally with you, a need to please you, worship you. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping you in place, savouring the soft whine you let out when his nose brushes your clit. 

Fuck. 

He likes this a lot more than kissing. Likes the way you moan and cry out his name, the way you tug his hair, and crush his head between your soft thighs. Loves the way you fall apart on his tongue, and the way you taste. The wet look in your big eyes — chest heaving, breath ripped out of you — after he licks you clean.

The tension lingers, sweet and heavy, pressing in on Jake from all angles when he finally pulls away, leaving a kiss to your inner thigh before sitting back on his heels. He watches you, sinking into the sheets—lashes fluttering, bottom lip pulled between your teeth. Spent and glowing as you look at him. Jake pulls off his shirt, cool air pulling goosebumps along his skin. A deep breath, a few deep breaths. You ask in a quiet voice if you can wear it. He nods, hands moving instinctively, fingers brushing your skin as he helps you put it on.

“Did so good for me, baby. Didn’t you?” he asks, pulling you into his arms, hand stroking your back. 

You lift your head from his chest, a dreamy look in your eyes when you look up at him. “Does that surprise you, Jakey?” 

His breath hitches, heat spreading on his cheeks and neck. He doesn’t have the upper hand with you, not at all. But he does have the option to kiss you instead of answering so he does that. Kissing you until you say, one minute, against his lips, and leave the room.

Soft warmth settles in Jake’s chest as he heads to the kitchen, smiling. All of this, these moments after sex, makes his heart race. Makes him want to get on his hands and knees and beg you to love him back—though he would settle for like. This routine, this quiet afterwards might honestly be his favourite part of it all. The two of you, inhabiting this tiny world you’ve carved out together—big enough for you and him only. The flat to yourselves. Your head on his chest. You even asked to wear his shirt! These moments when the thought of being your boyfriend doesn’t seem so out of reach. When he feels like he is your boyfriend. 

He can’t stop smiling. 

At the sink, he washes his hands before pouring you a glass of water, and when you step out of the bathroom, he’s already there, leaning against the wall. He melts at the sight of you—barefoot and sleepy-eyed, a smile on your face. His favourite sight in the whole world. He can’t believe his blessings, that you would want him — even if only for sex — and each day he spends with you makes it harder for him not to test how far he can push it. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” he says, handing you the glass. “You feeling okay?” 

You hum in response, thanking him. Your fingers slip around his, warm and delicate, and he has to remind himself to breathe as you lead him back to your room. Jake’s eyes are glued to you, addicted to the way you fill out his shirt. It’s senseless—how a piece of his own clothing, something so familiar, suddenly looks brand new just because you’re the one wearing it. Looks better. Nipples nudging the soft cotton, hips curving out into the hem, ass hanging out of it. He lies down on the bed, watching you, each movement entrancing him. His heart stills in his chest when you tie your hair back, shirt riding up enough to show off the lace of your underwear. It’s too much. It’s perfect. He clasps his hands in his lap, trying and failing to cover the effect you have on him. 

You get into bed, body molding to his like a second skin. Head on his chest, ear pressed over his heart—hearing it thud, no doubt. Jake wraps his arm around you, fingers splaying over your back, holding you close. He exhales slowly, wondering how much longer he can lay here like this, with you, before he overstays his welcome. He’s made good on his promise, done what you invited him here to do, and it’s not late enough that you’d object to him leaving at this time. Your breath is a steady lull on his skin. Asleep, probably. But then—your hand trails on his stomach, fingers resting on his waistband, and he can’t help feeling a bit bad. 

He knows better than to think anyone could make you do something you didn’t want to do—but has no idea if that includes him, too. Novelty long gone. Your curiosity sufficiently sated, while he kills himself trying to pretend he’s fine being just a friend to you again. This is hardly a perfect arrangement, but Jake feels nice sometimes, worthy and handsome, knowing you want him too—even if it’s only sex. It’s really good sex. 

As if you can hear his brain thinking his arousal away, you reach into his underwear. All of his blood rushes south, your soft palm wrapping around him. His mouth opens, then shuts. He wants you, he always will, and it’s all he can do to pray that won’t cost him this friendship—or you. 

Jake clears his throat, shakes his head. “You don’t have to.”

“I know, Jakey. I want to.”

He kisses the top of your head with a soft, contented sigh, fingers curling around the back of your shirt. Eyelids fluttering shut. It’s good, more than—leagues better than when he does it himself. Perfect. A shiver runs through him when you kiss his stomach, leaving a mark on the ticklish skin. He wants to look, really wants to, but he doesn’t want to come yet. Your lips brush his belly button and the hair underneath. A mumble of his name into his skin that he hears, feels, but can’t address.

“Jake,” you say again, leaning off of him. 

He hums, eyes snapping open when you whisper in his ear, “Do you want to stay over?” 

A nod. “Yeah, baby. I’ll stay over.” The words spill out of him with no consideration for the long day he has ahead. 

You pull his earlobe between your lips, nipping gently, a jolt down his spine. “Good boy.”

The praise makes him throb in your hand. Fuck, he thinks. Absolutely none of these words are in the Bible. 

Jake wakes up in an empty bed, your door ajar. It’s only eight — too early to rush — and he stretches out his arms, twisting against the mattress. Fifteen lonely minutes go by without you, and so he gets up, dragging his feet through the apartment.  

You’re in the kitchen, speaking in a hushed voice to Jimin—who seems to forget about the whole whispering thing for long enough that her voice rings through the hall when she says, “You need to get a grip before you get hurt!”

Sensing him, you whip your head towards the doorway, spotting Jake where he stands. Jimin wears a too-tight smile as he approaches. “Nervous about the game?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Great! Listen, I have to run, but good luck out there!” she says, patting his shoulder before leaving the room in a cloud of jasmine. 

Chewing your lip, you follow her out with your eyes, blinking when the door clicks shut behind her. Jake shifts his weight between his feet, tensing his abs on instinct when your gaze trails over him. You don’t comment, but you linger before looking away. For a second, something unreadable passes over your face—gone as soon as you speak. “Do you want something to eat?” you ask, smiling, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “We need to do a food shop, but I can make you some..” You trail off, pulling the fridge open. “Greek yoghurt with blueberries.”

“Is everything alright?” 

You nod, not meeting his gaze. “Jimin just thinks I’m stretching myself a bit thin.” You huff a small laugh, trying to downplay it, but your shoulders stay tense. Pulling out the punnet, you frown at it. “Greek yoghurt on its own?” you suggest, throwing the blueberries into the bin. 

Jake shakes his head, a small, appreciative smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I need to go soon, I still haven’t packed.” He fiddles with the drawstring on his pants, eyes lingering on you. Still so beautiful with a crease between your brows—he wants to reach out, smooth it over with his thumb. “Are you going to be alright by yourself?” It’s a bit of a useless question, he knows what you’re going to say. Knows you would tell him you were fine even if your arm was hanging off. You know it too, if the arch of your brow is anything to go by. 

A chuckle. “Don’t worry about it, Superstar—you have a game to play.” 

Jake hesitates, wondering if he should argue or just accept it. You’ll be fine. You always are. But something about leaving feels harder this time. Feels wrong. “You’re more important to me than a college football game.” 

In theory, it’s true. 

In practice, he’s not going to skip his game, not unless you ask him to—which you won’t. His football career is running on a clock that will only tick for two more terms after the summer. In his email, a timetable awaits, outlining all of his games for his last season. It’s provisional, for now, but bears weight regardless. He can’t afford to miss a game right now, but he’s a little shaken by the feeling that he can’t afford to leave you either.

You smile, a barely there curve of your lips as you close the fridge. Taking his hand in yours, you give it a squeeze, a steady reassurance. “Honestly, Jake. I’ll be alright. And if I’m not, I’ll still be here when you get back. So go.”

For someone so desperate to get rid of him, you’re having a hard time parting with his hoodie. He doesn’t want it back, but he needs something to wear to the car. It’s only fair, he showed up in only his t-shirt after all—his t-shirt that you’re still wearing and seem reluctant to return. You pull it close to your body like it’s yours now. 

“It’s two degrees out,” he reminds you. “Do you want me shirtless in that?” 

A sick and twisted silence passes, long enough to convince Jake you’re actually going to say yes. He watches your gaze flick downwards, want for him so clear that his dick twitches. Dragging your fingernail over the dip in his abs, your touch leaves a trail of fire in its wake. 

He’s thankful for the discipline he’s developed in the new year—consistently following Sunghoon to the gym, eating unseasoned chicken breast and three eggs at breakfast because Sunghoon does, because Sunghoon is.. a lot. Wide shoulders, solid frame. Built like God put him on Earth to look good shirtless, and Jake—well. He eats the chicken. He lifts the weights. He does his best.

“No, not really,” you say, frowning as you shove the hoodie into his arms. 

Jake smiles, glad you didn’t take too long to come around. He puts it on, zipping it slowly. Eyes on you the whole time, and when his abs disappear beneath the fabric, you sigh. His lips twitch, pleased.

At your front door, he hugs you—contemplates never letting go. The scent of coconut drifts up from your hair, and it tugs at something deep in his chest. His fingers tighten, pressing into your waist. He frowns. He shouldn’t miss you—not this much, not for one night. A night where, realistically, he wouldn’t see you even if he stayed home. But no amount of logic or reason is enough to make him feel better.

“I wish you were coming with me,” he says, mumbling into your collarbone. 

You lean back a little, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. For a second, a desperate, fleeting second, he thinks that maybe you’ll say, fuck it, and come along, that you might see the appeal of sneaking around a four-star hotel with him. He can picture it already—matching fluffy robes, doing your skincare routine together at the end of the night, sharing a twin bed while Jay Park snores in the other one. 

Instead, you look up at him with a smile that turns his knees to mush. “Not my fault you suck at planning, Jakey.”

He groans, tips his head back, feigning exhaustion. “Right, because everything is my fault, and I’m the villain in your story. I get it.” 

You roll your eyes. “Get out of my apartment,” you say, but your grip doesn’t ease.

Jake exhales a laugh, but he doesn’t move either. Just stands there, holding you, memorising this like he’s shipping off to war—your hands on his skin, your vanilla scent under his nose. “Without a kiss?” His voice comes out quiet, hopeful—half teasing, half not. He’s stalling, trying to buy another second. Maybe two. 

You push at his chest a little. “Out, Jake.” But you’re smiling and he feels your fingers tighten just a fraction before they let go. 

Jake only smiles, his arms locked around you. He dips his head, pressing a kiss to your temple, and his voice is soft when he says, “I’ll text you when we get there.”

A sigh slips out of you, feigning annoyance, but the brush of your fingers down his arm gives you away. “Yeah, yeah. See you later.” 

He grins. “You’ll miss me.” 

A beat passes before you speak, just long enough for Jake’s smile to falter as he watches you. You pout, hand on his cheek, thumb moving tenderly over his skin. “No,” you say, shaking your head. “But you’ll miss me.” 

“I already do.” He’s not lying. 

Jake doesn’t kiss you before he leaves, which is okay. He tells himself it’s okay. But regrets it the whole drive home, drumming his fingers against the wheel as if he can tap the thought away. He regrets it while he stuffs his kit and toiletries into a duffle bag. And he regrets it on the bus, staring out at the passing motorway, the new Beabadoobee album blaring in his headphones. He’s so consumed by his regret that he doesn’t even have it in him to pretend he’s annoyed when Jay falls asleep with his head on his shoulder. 

Not for lack of trying, Jake doesn’t sleep, and as it turns out, the protein bar he found in his backpack earlier is not enough sustenance for a three-hour journey. The bus rumbles on, road stretching out endlessly through the windscreen when he takes a look. He sighs, cracking his knuckles and willing himself to stop thinking about you. This doesn’t work either, and he’s typing out a text to you before he realises. 

Jake: I hope you’re feeling better ❤️

Jake: I’ll see you soon, okay?

You reply with a picture of yourself in bed—glasses on, a book in your lap, lips curved into a soft, easy smile that makes something in his chest tighten. He stares for too long, caught up in the details. Gentle slope of your nose, loose strands of hair framing your face, dark love bites peeking out from under the collar of your shirt. His stomach flips, a giddy laugh slipping out. He wishes he could do something, turn the bus around, and go see that pretty face in person.

YN: All good, Jakey !!! Just needed to shower apparently.. 

Jake: My gorgeous girl :)

Jake: You did smell kinda weird when I hugged you 

YN: ???

YN: Don’t even joke lad. 

Jake snaps a quick selfie—grinning, a little flushed, hair messy from having his hood up. In the corner, Jay is dead asleep, mouth agape, face smushed into Jake’s shoulder. He laughs quietly, sending the picture, heat flooding his cheeks when you react with heart eyes.

YN: Such a pretty boy ☹️

YN: Jay obviously

Jake: Obviously.

It’s just past two when they start filing off the bus, the sharp coastal wind biting at Jake’s cheeks. He shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunching against the cold. The hotel in front of them is huge—way nicer than anything they actually need. But still, it’s nice, knowing that the football budget is going to something tangible, that they enjoy. A small comfort. The younger boys he sees like brothers will be looked after when he’s gone, and that thought warms him despite the cold. Towering windows glint in the afternoon sun, the kind of place with sleek, startlingly shiny floors and crystal chandeliers that don’t make sense for a one-night stay. But he’ll take this any day over the dingy motels he remembers from first year, stained towels and plywood mattresses. 

At the front desk, Jay stands in line next to Jake with his eyes shut, as if three hours asleep on the bus weren’t enough. Jake knows better than to say anything though — after three years on the same team — he understands that Jay isn’t tired. He’s following a ritual. The Rilakkuma band-aid on his wrist is proof of that. And in case that isn’t enough, Jay doesn’t touch the key card either. He claims the bed furthest from the door, sits on the edge of the mattress, and blasts Mama, You’ve Been On My Mind—the Joan Baez and Bob Dylan live version, not the Bob Dylan studio outtake. And he listens to it twice before saying a word to Jake. Of course, because they had a single brief conversation before that first away game three years ago, their post-check-in discussions are forever based around two subjects: food, and you.

Jake: We’re here :) 

YN: Has Jay asked about me yet?

Jake: One more stream

YN: Ah, almost settled then, I see

Jake laughs at this, a small exhale from his nose as he watches you type. 

YN: If you stayed home, would he just.. not play? 

Jake: Never considered that but I’ll ask later

Jake: Kick-off at 5:30 btw

YN: Good luck 🥳🥳🥳

He reacts to the message with a heart and tosses his phone aside, pressing the heel of his hand to his empty stomach. It’s a lot, Jay’s routine, but Jake isn’t in a position to judge him too harshly. Ever since high school, he eats a bowl of brown rice, grilled chicken and vegetables before away games, like it’s a charm against failure. Because it is. Because the first time he did, he played the best game of his life, and now the thought of eating anything else makes his stomach coil. It might seem silly to believe that a bowl of rice could change the outcome of a game, but Jake has seen it first-hand and isn’t willing to risk it again.

Jay is humming, oblivious, bobbing his head slightly, and Jake can’t help the smile on his face as he watches. Music spills from his headphones—Dylan’s voice a scratch against the air, Baez’s softer, sweeter. It’s almost grating, a taste he’s yet to acquire. They don’t talk much outside of football, not really, but there’s a closeness anyway. Built from hours of drills, sharing meals after training, and rooms for away games, retreats. A sudden rush of dread hits Jake, remembering that after next year — after graduation — the two will likely never share a room again. Even more hauntingly, they may never share the pitch again. Jake shakes his head. The plight of the student athlete, he supposes.

A happy sigh comes from Jay as he takes his headphones off, standing up. He stretches his arms out over his head, turning to Jake, grinning. “Hey, buddy.” 

Jake would never admit this to him — or anyone — but he has a lot of respect for Jay. He takes training seriously, giving his all even during warm-up games, he’s got killer technique, and is (unfortunately) really nice. If Jake couldn’t make captain, he’s glad it went to Jay.

“I was talking to your girlfriend the other day.” The grin doesn’t fall from Jay’s face when he speaks, wagging his brows.

The G-word makes Jake roll his eyes—even though he likes hearing it, praying that God is listening and taking notes.

“She cornered me in the library to ask if I knew how to make a pie.”

“That sounds like her,” Jake says, smiling too.

His cheeks burn thinking about what you said yesterday—about how you’d wanted to bake him a pie. The memory jolts him. He digs through his bag without thinking, quickly finding the tinfoil abomination he made sure not to leave the house without. Jay catches it easily in his left hand when he tosses it over, eyeing it suspiciously before unwrapping it. 

“She ended up making cookies, but I guess you knew that.”

He blinks at them like they might explode. “Wait, she made these for you?” Jay tilts his head, impressed. “You might not be as hopeless as I thought.”

Giddiness overwhelms Jake as he nods. It’s weird, a bit ridiculous even, how a batch of cookies can feel like a championship win—better. He likes it though, and doesn’t try to fight his smile.

His stomach rumbles into the silence. “Do you want to come get food?” He always extends an invitation to Jay. 

“I’m good, man.”

And Jay never accepts. 

This meal is a sacred one. As soon as Coach announces the hotel, Jake pulls up Uber Eats and Google Maps on his desktop to meticulously survey the surrounding area. And if his work reaps unfavourable results, he’ll call the hotel to enquire about the microwave arrangements. And if that doesn’t work out, he calls the convenience shops nearby to ask them. 

He knows how he must seem, but before the first away game of this season, he brought his rice bowl in tupperware, had to eat it cold, and sprained his ankle on the pitch. So to say he was delighted when he found it on the menu of a local place would be an understatement—an independent Mexican restaurant with a 4.7 star rating only twenty-minutes away on foot. Perfect. His Promised Land. He applauded the monitor when he saw it.

Tres Mesas—a quaint restaurant, with three tables and a TV in the corner playing the news on mute, but damn if that wasn’t the best bowl of brown rice, grilled chicken, and pico de gallo he’s eaten in his life. The rice was fluffy, the grilled chicken tender, smoky. Even the pico de gallo was incredible—he only ordered it because he hadn’t looked at the vegetables yet, and panicked when the waitress sighed. Luckily, it’s the one component of the meal he’s willing to play fast and loose with. He can’t actually remember which vegetables he ate that first day, just that he enjoyed them. 

When he finishes eating, he gets up from his table with half a mind to go to the kitchen and ask for a photo with the chef. He settles for going to the cash machine across the road and taking out a tenner for the tip jar by the till. On the walk back to the hotel, he texts his dad a photo of the bowl, looking at it lovingly as he sings its praises via text. 

Jake: Kick-off is at 17:30 💪 will let you know how we get on, love you

On the way to the other school, again, Jay rests his head on Jake’s shoulder—whether he’s awake or not is anyone’s guess. But when Jake’s phone vibrates in his pocket, he retrieves it with as little motion as possible, just in case. 

Dad: I’m glad you enjoyed your meal. Was it hot? 😂.

Dad: You do not need luck, son. You are always wonderful. Love you. 

Jake: It was hot, dad 😭😭😭 of course, it was 

Jake: Way too soon…………..

Warm-ups go by in a blink, a blur of sweat and jump squats until Jake finds himself standing in the tunnel with everyone else. Muscles humming, heart racing. He shakes out his limbs and prays to God for a miracle. 

At church, when someone gives a testimony, they say, “God is good,” and the rest of the congregation responds in unison, “All the time.” Then, that person says, “All the time,” and in unison, the congregation says, “God is good.”

Jake doesn’t know why he finds it so grating, but week after week, he sits in his seat suppressing an eye roll while muttering the responses along with everyone else. However, when the ref blows the whistle to call full-time — scoreboard reading: HOME 0, AWAY 4 — ‘God is good’ sits on the tip of his tongue. He covers his mouth with his collar, pressing his lips together so it doesn’t slip out. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t have time to dwell on it, because Kim Sunoo comes running up and jumps on his back, looping his arms around Jake’s neck, and he nearly topples over. The rest of the team come rushing towards them, loud and triumphant. Jay reaches them first, his eyes gleaming with pride as he ruffles Jake’s hair. Adrenaline courses through him, dulling the ache in his legs. 

And as they start to leave the pitch, heading for the locker room, he kisses his hand, points to the sky, and mouths, thank you.

People are often surprised to hear Jake admit that the best part of winning a game isn’t the roaring crowd, his coach’s praise, or even personal satisfaction. No, the best part of winning a game is laughing at the dinner table with his teammates after, and washing down a tomahawk steak — mushrooms and potatoes on the side — with a glass of champagne. And all on the university’s dollar at that. 

Winning the first away game of the spring semester was more than enough cause for celebration, and Jake — full-bellied and alcohol glazed — has been keeping an eye on his drinks all night. He glances at his empty glass, pleased with his restraint. Someone had to keep a level head, and it wasn’t going to be Jay. O Captain! Our Captain!—for whom the only thing between tipsy and shit-faced is a whiff of vodka. Maybe less. 

Turns out, Jake was worried about the wrong guy. 

Nishimura Riki, 186 cm of arms and legs, dawdles over, red in the face (and ears and neck) and stumbling. With each step, his well-consumed IPA sloshes dangerously in his glass, splashing the back of his hand when he comes to an abrupt halt. “Sunoo, move,” He starts. “Need to talk to Jake.” His voice is slow and syrupy, at least an octave higher than normal. 

Their youngest — their scrawny Goliath — only turned eighteen a few months ago, and (quite bravely) attended his first three months of college parties completely sober until then. He’s still figuring out his limits, and Jake can’t help but be endeared by this large child—if not a little alarmed. 

“Knock yourself out, kid,” Sunoo says, amused, as he stands up. He sticks around for long enough to make sure Riki doesn’t fall over trying to sit, and takes his empty seat at the other end of the table. 

This conversation he came stumbling over for is a request — delivered in a harsh whisper, hand over his mouth — to sit beside each other at the next meal. Jake flinches, too startled to respond, when Jay stands abruptly from his chair. “Get up, Riki. I’ll swap with you.” 

Childlike delight floods Riki’s flushed face, looking up at his captain like manna from the sky, and wrapping his gangly arms around him when they cross paths. Jake shares a look with Jay as he sits in front of him—equal parts amusement and concern. 

“Do you think I could finish that off for you?” Jay asks, gesturing to what’s left in Riki’s glass. 

He nods quickly, extending it. “Of course, I’ll just get ano—” 

“No!” Jake all but yells, cutting him off. “I mean, Coach is limiting us to three drinks tonight, so, no more.” A lie he deems more than necessary, a lie he wishes someone had already told.  

Riki grins, leaning in. “That’s my sixth.” A laugh, and then another bubbles out of him as he sinks into his seat, shoulders racking. This disclosure seems as surprising to Jay as it is to Jake—not at all. He is extremely lucky that his teammates like him so much. Settled, finally settled, Riki shifts, letting his bony knees dig into Jake’s thigh. “Did you see my tackle? What did you think? Am I getting better?” 

Jake nods sincerely, Riki’s been working hard — eager to prove himself so Coach won’t regret signing a first-year — and it’s paying off. “It was clean, buddy. You did great,” he says, meaning it. And Riki doesn’t try to hide his boxy grin. 

On his other side is Jungwon—head tipped back over his chair, knocked out after one mojito. Jake takes a photo, sends it to you. Lil bro can’t hang. You reply right away: AWWWWW cutie 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 how much did he drink lmao.

Jake: Mojito 

Jake: Singular

YN: 😭😭😭

Jake can’t suppress his smile, taking a selfie at a high angle and sending it to you. What about me am I cutie ?

YN: Yes, very cutie !!! You look so handsome 🤒

YN: So blushy, baby, are you also very drunk? 

Cutie. So handsome. Baby. Jake is as giddy as he is confused. All that in the span of two consecutive text messages—he can’t believe his luck, struggling to tamp down his sudden desire to buy a lottery ticket. You might even tell him you miss him if he plays his cards right. 

Jake: Sweet girl 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Jake: Not drunk just a few glasses of champagne hehehehe

YN: So you’re drunk 😭😭😭

Jake: You can’t see but I’m rolling my eyes

YN: I believe you, Jakey 😐 put the phone down and celebrate w your friends, okay? 

YN: We can talk when you get back to your room !!!

What an exciting suggestion—talking in his room. With you. Jake stares down at his phone, in awe. Wow, he thinks. So clever. He almost wants to get up and start bragging about you like a proud parent. Oh. That is not an image he likes.  

Jake: Whatare you gonna do if I keep texting? Leave me on read?  

Yes, apparently—you read the message as soon as it sends and don’t reply. Don’t even start typing. Thirty minutes pass by before they leave the restaurant. Jungwon on Jake’s back. Riki on Jay’s. 

He was never very good at cards.

Finally in bed, light-headed and smiley after three glasses of champagne, Jake pulls up your contact and calls you. He waits, staring up at the ceiling, tapping his fingers against his phone case. The room hums softly around him. After a few rings, you answer, and he smiles at the sound of your voice. “Hey, Superstar! Congrats!” 

“Thanks, gorgeous,” he says, eyes fluttering shut. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Jimin and I are going to pres at Yizhuo’s and then the club. I actually think we’re leaving soon, but it should be good—Yizhuo hasn’t come out since Valentine’s.”

The mention of Valentine’s makes Jake’s breath hitch, fingers tightening around his phone as the memory comes rushing back—relentless. He hasn’t been out since then either, now that he thinks about it. That night. The dance floor. Your breath fanning his neck when you asked him to kiss you. 

Jake froze, caught off guard. “What?” 

“Don’t be a kid about it, Jakey,” you said in his ear. “If you don’t kiss me, Jaehyun will.” 

The thought of Jaehyun kissing you, again, while Jake was stuck at zero kisses in ten years, made him sick. Historically, he had always been unlucky when it came to you—countless games of spin the bottle spent kissing the person to your left, watching as you kissed his friends. Yet there you were, asking him to kiss you and he was hesitating. Stupid, really. Ridiculous. 

He cleared his throat, heart pounding. He’d read too many romance novels, seen too many films, to believe that you two could kiss once and it wouldn’t change everything—but he liked you, and he suspected he always had. So he asked, “You really want me to kiss you?” 

“Please,” you said, voice small, vulnerable, as if you were giving him a piece of yourself and begging him not to break it. 

Through the phone, your voice hits his ear, bringing him back. “Did you fall asleep?” You don’t sound anything like you did last month.

“No, no, I was just thinking,” he says faintly, a distracted beat passing as something crosses his mind. “Hey, what was that about with Jimin earlier?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, and he's certain that’s the end of it. “She just thinks I’m going to get hurt when you go off, and use all your new experience on someone else.” You laugh, and he can’t tell if you’re amused by the notion of getting hurt, or there being someone else. 

Jake wasn’t expecting you to tell him anything, never mind that. The thought that you, or Jimin — or anyone — could think there was someone else. That there could be someone else, hollows his chest, grinds an ugly gear in his brain. But it clears up a lot about this morning, she wasn’t being weird, she was.. warning you? His thoughts race, a million and one questions rattling in his head. 

“Are you?” Is the one he asks, not fully equipped for any of the answers you might give. 

A long quiet beat passes. “Are you?”

This feels like an opening, an opportunity for him to set some things straight. How could there ever be anyone else? To confess, maybe. You’re it for me, you’ve always been it for me. He can’t bring himself to—it doesn’t feel right to say over the phone. “If something was seriously wrong, you would tell me, right?” he says instead. At your silence, he continues. “The world won’t end if you open up to me, you know. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Of course. You’re my best friend,” you say belatedly. 

“Yeah,” he says, ignoring the ache in his chest. “Always.”

You don’t reply right away, a minute passing before you clear your throat. “I have to go, okay? But I’ll text you.”

Jake nods even though you can’t see. “Have fun tonight.” 

“Thank you, Jakey.” You hang up.

His phone vibrates with a text from you. Fit check 🤧. You’re wearing a lace tank top and a little black skirt. I’ll have a drink for you since you’re staying in! He stares at the photo—flutter in chest, heat on cheeks. His screen locks, and his reflection grins back at him, clear-eyed, flushed. Happy. Unlocking his phone, the photo stares back at him—you, so beautiful, and so far away. His thumb brushes the screen absentmindedly. Gosh, he misses you. 

Jake: You look so perfect……wish I was there 🤒

Jake: Look after yourself, cutie 

YN: Haha thanks me tooooo 

YN: Yes sir 🫡

He types out that he misses you but thinks better of it, clearing the message and leaving a heart-react on your response. 

“Was that your girl on the phone?” Jay asks, closing the bathroom door behind him. 

Smiling, Jake turns the phrase over in his head. My girl. Butterflies erupt just thinking about it. Another silent prayer. “It was.”

Jay only nods, taking his charger from his bag and plugging it into the wall by his bed. He takes a long sip of water from his bottle and sighs, relieved, Jake thinks. For a long time, Jay looks at him from the other end of the room, saying nothing. 

Until. “You’re a good guy, Jake,” he says, his tone a bit too serious for Jake’s liking. “And it’s fine that you like her, it’s good that you like her, but how much longer are you going to keep that to yourself?” he asks, looking at Jake like he actually wants an answer. 

Sighing, Jake pinches the bridge of his nose. “I get that you think you’re helping, but just—maybe stay out of it.”

Jay blinks, his brows twitching together for the briefest second before smoothing out. Jake hadn’t meant for it to come out so sharply. Silence stretches out over them, long and heavy, and before he can take it back, Jay exhales slowly, looking away. 

“I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. It’s just—” A pause. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer, like he’s saying something that will cost him to admit. “Look, I’ve tried sleeping my way from friend to boyfriend, and it doesn’t work. At some point, you’re going to have to show her you care about more than just sex, and I hope, for your sake, as your friend, that you do it before it’s too late.” 

Jake stiffens, every muscle in his body tensing up. Heat spreads from his ears down the back of his neck, sharp and unforgiving. His first instinct is to argue, to say something to get on Jay’s nerves, but he relents—there’s no point in arguing over something they both know is true. 

He clears his throat, sighs deeply. “Thank you, Jay, for your unsolicited advice,” Jake says, turning around and screwing his eyes shut, willing for sleep to pull him under. 

It doesn’t. 

Jay shuffles around the room for a bit before flicking off the light. Jake wonders if he should say something, but he knows there’s no need. Grudges don’t belong in their friendship—it shows on the pitch when something’s off. So they get everything off their chests, yell at each other if they have to, and move on like it never happened. 

And yet, he feels bad for meeting Jay’s vulnerability with sarcasm. He goes over the things he could say, again and again, until he hears snoring over his shoulder.

With a sigh, Jake rolls onto his back and rubs a hand over his face. He sends a text to Sunghoon—a question he already knows the answer to: Do you think I’m fucking things up w YN? It’s only after hitting send and putting his phone under his pillow, that sleep finally overtakes him.

In the morning, he stirs before waking up, dragged from sleep by rustling fabric and soft, persistent thuds. A moment later, something light smacks him in the face, jolting him from his slumber. He squints into the morning light, a blurry shape above him. A pillow. To the face, again. When Jake’s eyes finally focus on Jay, he has the faintest idea that he’s being rewarded for something. He’s standing there, looking down at him, all tan skin and toned stomach, arms flexing as he swings the pillow again. It’s annoying, really, how effortlessly put-together he looks, and Jake forces himself to look away, covering his face with his hands. 

“Morning, princess!” 

Jake groans. “What, Jay? What is it?” he asks, sufficiently disturbed.

“They wouldn’t let me bring a plate for you, so you need to get up before breakfast is done,” Jay says, aiming another hit at Jake’s chest. 

Still trying to get his bearings, Jake slaps at the pillow and pulls the blanket over his head. Jay isn’t having it. He smacks him with what Jake suspects is all of his might. At this point, it’s hard for Jake to stay touched by the fact that Jay had wanted to fix him a plate. 

“Fine, fine!” Jake’s voice isn’t quite working yet, the words coming out in a low rumble as he sits up. “I’m going.”

“How’d you sleep?” Jay asks, hugging the pillow to his chest. 

Jake shrugs. “Pretty good. You?”

“Same.” 

Jake inspects Jay, searching for a sign that last night is still hanging over him too. But he looks.. fine—bed already made, bag packed, hair still damp from the shower. Jake knows Jay well enough to tell when something’s wrong, and there isn’t even a trace of tension on his face. No irritation, nothing at all—he’s over it. It should be a relief, but instead, it makes Jake’s heart sink.

“I have to tell you something, but you can’t make a big deal about it,” he says, stretching a little as Jay nods. “You have to promise, dude.”

Jay rolls his eyes, but extends his pinky anyway, curling it around Jake’s. “I promise.” 

Jake is struck by how still the room feels, like it’s holding its breath. Why is he doing this? Jay has already moved on, and now, because of Jake and his lack of self-regulation, they’re standing around shirtless in a hotel room, miles away from home, holding hands. It’s all very bizarre, and he is looking forward to stepping down from the top of this mountain-sized molehill he’s made.

He sighs, tired of himself. “You were right, about.. everything. And I’m sorry,” he admits. 

Jay grins, his smile smug, almost feline, in a way that entrances and confuses Jake at once. “About everything?” he asks, amusement in his tone, making Jake wonder whether he’s taking this seriously.

“Come on!” Jake says, incredulous, holding up their locked fingers.

Jay’s smile falters, and he rolls his eyes. “Oh no. I broke my promise,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I suppose you’re going to make a scene now? Tell me, Jake, what are you going to do? Tell me off? Spank me? Amputate?” 

Irritated – flustered, maybe — Jake yanks his finger free, cheeks hot. He pulls on a shirt with a little more force than necessary, not bothering to look at Jay as he does. 

“Listen, if it makes you feel any better, I already knew I was right,” Jay says, and the smile on his face is audible. “I do accept your apology, though.” 

Jake exhales, a tension he hadn’t even noticed unwinding from his shoulders. He steps out into the hall feeling lighter, relieved, so chipper he takes the stairs instead of the lift, practically skipping down them. The air in the stairwell is crisp against his skin, the smell of coffee drifting up as he gets closer and closer to the dining hall. His phone vibrates in his pocket, lighting up with three messages from Sunghoon when he checks it. 

Hoon: You are definitely handling things in a way I wouldn’t even recommend to my worst enemy!

Hoon: But things have a weird way of working out for you so

Hoon: Don’t worry too much 💪

Jake: Thanks?

The morning rush has thinned, and the emptying buffet trays aren’t his favourite sight—congealed scrambled eggs at their edges. He fills his plate anyway, hungry and happy enough to ignore how yellow the eggs are. At the nearest table, he chews absently, crunching crispy bacon, sipping pulpy orange juice, and his mind drifts. Jay’s voice, Sunghoon’s text, the lingering hum of a hundred past conversations—background noise. He pulls out his phone before he even registers the impulse, thumbs flying over the screen. 

Jake: Hey, pretty girl :) how was your night?

YN: It was good! And then Yizhuo threw up all over the smoking area which was.. terrifying 

YN: But I was in bed at 1 a.m. which I’m counting as a positive!

Jake: Sorry about Yizhuo, how’s she feeling? How are you feeling? 

Jake: Damn it’s early, are you okay? 

YN: Okay, 20 questions 🤨 Like shit. Good. On my way! To Pilates.

Still hungry after breakfast, Jake leaves the dining hall to take a shower and pack his bag before they leave. He sleeps for the whole journey, head on top of Jay’s. 

When they step off the bus at uni, Jake waves goodbye to the team and heads straight for his car—he doesn’t go home. The drive is endless, knee bouncing at every red light, grip tight on the wheel. When he reaches your building, an older couple lingers by the entrance, hand in hand, giggling. He slips past them, taking the stairs two at a time. At your door, he stops, hunching over to catch his breath before knocking. 

It takes a while, but Jimin opens the door, her smile falling when she sees him. “Jake, hi,” she says quietly, though it sounds like a question. She doesn’t step aside to let him in. “She’s not home, you just missed her actually. Jaemin picked her up.” 

Just hearing Jaemin’s name is like a stake to the chest. Jake tenses without meaning to, jaw tight. He’s been avoiding the guy like the plague since Jaehyun’s birthday, when he cornered Jake in the kitchen. “Are you two, like, serious, or what?” he asked, voice low even though they were alone.

Throughout ten years of friendship, Jake had been asked that question more times than he could count. Throughout four years of pining, it was one of two questions that made him want to throw himself into oncoming traffic. He didn’t need to follow Jaemin’s eyeline or hear another word to know exactly what he meant. Who he meant—you, of course. In the living room, laughing with the birthday boy, Jake’s jacket slung over your shoulders as you waited for him to bring you a can of Sprite. 

Jake only shrugged, the red cup of water in his left hand crunching a little under his tightening grip. “We’re friends.” 

“So I’m allowed to ask her out?”

That was the second question that got under Jake’s skin—not just because it was reductive, but because it wasn’t his decision to make. And yet, there came Jaemin, like every guy before him, asking as if they really think that if Jake had any say in it, you’d be with anyone but him. 

With a sigh, he said, “I’m not her father, Jaemin. It’s up to her.”

Jaemin smiled, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear. “You got a light?”

“No.” He shook his head, shoving his clenched fist into his back pocket, the cool metal of his lighter grazing his right knuckle. “Can’t smoke in here anyway, mate.”

The memory slams into him, full-force, knocks the wind out of him. “He did?”

“She didn’t tell you?” Jimin tilts her head. “Weird.”

His brain stalls, unsure which thought to torture himself with first: that you’re seeing Jaemin, or that you didn’t tell him. As it turns out, the more hurtful thought is of the text you sent him an hour ago while he was asleep on the bus, the reason he’s even here.

YN: Travel safe, Jakey, I can’t wait to see youuuuu <3 

Jimin’s hand reaches for the door. “Goodbye.” 

His lips part, trying to gather his thoughts, to say something before the door clicks shut in his face. Nothing comes to mind, but your voice rings out into the silence. “Who’s at the door?” The sound of it rattles through him, curious, gentle as ever, and the seconds that pass stretch out in front of him, vast and unending. 

Jimin only frowns, her shoulders slumping. She seems more disturbed by the fact that now she’ll have to let him in than the fact that she’s been caught lying. “Oops,” she says simply, leaving the door open as she goes back to her room. 

Sighing, Jake leaves his shoes next to yours and locks the door behind him, his fingers fumbling a little as he twists the key. Smelling food, he goes straight to the kitchen where he finds you. You’re standing by the stove, hair covering your face, lost in the task at hand: trying to tear open a bag of cheese without scissors. You succeed. Before he says a word, you look over at him, and the grin that spreads over your lips makes his stomach swoop, butterflies tumbling around like they’re looking for a point of exit. You’re perfect. There’s something about that smile that brightens everything around you, grounding and dizzying him all at once.

“Hey,” he says, breathless, smiling too. 

You turn off the stove before stepping into his space, arms looping around his waist like you need this as much as he does. “Jakey,” you mumble into his chest.

It’s nice to see you, he can’t overstate that, and he suspects it always will be. Yet, even with you in his arms, he can’t smooth out the crease in his brows, can’t relax into your touch like he wants to—like he’s been thinking about since he left yesterday. The only thing on his mind is whatever the fuck is going on with Jimin, and how to ask you about it. 

“I see you’ve done your food shop,” he says dumbly, looking over your head at the pot on the stove. 

“Uh huh.” You nod, tilting your head back to look at him. “I even got those chocolates you like.”

Jake smiles, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, liking the way you lean into his touch. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You shrug, but the softness of your voice betrays your attempt at nonchalance. “I wanted to make sure you had a reason to come and see me.”

“You’re being really sweet,” he says, frowning. He doesn’t mean to sound suspicious, but for some reason, it’s easier to question you than to believe you might actually want him here. He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. Your skin is warm, but not feverish. Normal. Still, he keeps it there. “You feeling okay?” 

You roll your eyes, catching his wrist and pulling his hand away. “Are you okay? You look like Jimin caught you out there praying for pussy.”

It would have been less mortifying if she had. He chuckles, an awkward huff of air that sounds more like a strangled cough than anything close to a laugh. Pressing his fist to his mouth, he clears his throat as if it will somehow clear the feeling in his chest, too. As if summoned simply by Jake thinking about her, Jimin comes into the kitchen, buttoning up her coat. Her eyes skip over him like he’s not there, her smile reserved for you. 

“I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” she says, opening her arms. 

You step forward without hesitation, slipping into her embrace like it’s second nature. The hug is warm and sweet, the two of you in your own world while Jake is stuck in its orbit, watching it spin without him. “I’ll miss you,” you say sincerely. “Text me when you get there.”

Jimin ruffles your hair when you pull away, smiling when you protest. “I miss you already.” And with that, she squeezes your wrist affectionately before turning on her heel without so much as a glance in his direction.

At the sound of the front door swinging shut, Jake sighs, glancing at it like he expects her to reappear. To say it was all a big joke, that she was doing a bit, and hug him too—the way she would have done a month ago, before.. 

It’s quiet in the flat—just you and him. He shifts on his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets, watching you watch the pot on the stove. You take off its foggy lid, steam curling out as you sprinkle grated cheddar into it—cheese dakgalbi. His mouth waters. 

Silence persists. Not awkward, not quite comfortable. He has to ask. “Did you ask Jimin to pretend you weren’t home?”

A laugh bubbles out of you, amused by the mere suggestion. You shake your head. “No.”

Jake sniffs, his voice quieter than before. “Is she mad at me or something?” He tries for casual, but he sounds a bit pathetic. 

You give him a look—confused, as if you didn’t see the way she’d ignored him. “Did she tell you I wasn’t home?” 

He nods slowly, saying nothing about the Jaemin-shaped elephant in his proverbial mind-room. Instead, he reaches into the cupboard behind him, the hinge creaking softly as he pulls out a bowl for you. He hands it over without meeting your eyes.

“Aren’t you hungry?” 

There’s too much going on in his head to navigate your line of questioning. “What are you talking about?”

You hold up the dish like the answer to his question is written on its base. “One bowl,” you say—it isn’t, by the way, the answer. He looked.  

“I’m not staying,” he says without meaning to, though now that he’s thinking about it, he likes the idea of going home and being alone with his thoughts. It might even be nice to sit in silence on the couch with Sunghoon if he’s home. 

Putting the bowl down, you take a step back, and scoff. Defensive. Hurt, he thinks. You sigh. “Why are you here then?” 

Your question, your tone, makes him feel a little silly. Silly for cancelling his plans with Jay to come here. Really silly, actually. For thinking you missed him too. For thinking, can’t wait to see you, meant anything more than just something nice to say to a friend who’s been away. 

“Well.. I don’t know.” Jake shrugs. “I just wanted to look at you or something, I guess. Make sure you were alright.”

Your expression softens, a step towards him, eyes — wide, searching — meeting his. “Stay, Jake. Please.”

His breath catches, taken aback by this unprompted offering of vulnerability—asking him to stay because you want him to, not because he asked if he should. He wonders if it could always be like this. If you could be like this with him again. Open. Gentle. Like before. 

“Did you miss me?” Jake asks, greedy for you to open up. To give him more than just a little. “While I was away?”

“It was one night.” 

“So? I missed you,” he admits. 

Your eyes flicker over his face, but you don’t answer. No, you roll your eyes like he’s being ridiculous—it bothers him though he knows it shouldn’t. He approaches you before he can think better of it, hands finding the counter on either side of you, caging you in. You don’t resist or pull away, only tilting your head to meet his gaze. And fuck, you’re right there and so beautiful. Close enough for him to see the way your eyes widen ever-so-slightly. Close enough that his pulse trips over itself.

“Why won’t you tell me you missed me?” he asks. 

You arch a brow. “Why do you want me to tell you if you already know?” 

Jake exhales sharply, tilting his head, pressing his fingertips into the counter like it’ll ground him. “I just—” He pauses. Swallows. Tries again. “Please.”

A hesitation. He feels your hand on his waist, your fingers squeezing. Sees the way your lips part, like you might actually say it. But you don’t. “Why?” you ask instead. 

He blinks, throat working around an answer that won’t come out. And suddenly, he feels stupid. Standing here, begging you to say something he already knows, something that shouldn’t matter so much. His eyes flick to yours, and he tries again, softer this time, whispering, “Please, baby.”

Finally, you break, quietly confessing, “I hate being away from you.” And it’s a million times better.

A startled breath escapes him, soft and disbelieving. His heart stumbles over itself, warmth flooding his chest. He blinks at you, processing, the words replaying in his head, sweeter each time. His fingers twitch against the countertop, resisting the urge to touch you, but you’re looking at the floor, and that won’t do. Gently, he tilts your chin up, your eyes meeting his—all wide and pretty, uncertainty flickering in them. 

He swallows, voice unsteady. “Say it again.”

A slow smile curves your lips, and he sees the flash of realisation in your eyes—you’ve got him, you know you do. “I hate being away from you, Jake,” you repeat, confident now. 

The shape of the words on your lips, how they roll off your tongue, hitting him with so much affection it’s a wonder he doesn’t burst into tears. Those words spoken to him, in your voice, by you. He takes a deep breath. “See? That wasn’t so bad,” he says, trying to tease but his voice is too soft. 

You roll your eyes, but your lips are twitching, fighting a smile. “It was excruciating.” 

Jake hums, brushing his thumb along your jaw, memorising the feel of you, liking the way you gulp. “My poor girl,” he teases, a pout on his lips. “I was about to drop it, you know. One more why, and I’d have let you off the hook.”

And then — before you can fire back some sharp remark — he kisses you. 

He takes his time, desperate — quite frankly — to make up for what he missed yesterday morning. His hands find the small of your back, pulling you close as if he can’t bear being away from you again. Every touch is a relief, his gratitude and adoration poured into the warmth of his lips against yours. A tiny sound, low and wanting, slips from your mouth to his, stirring his chest. When he pulls away, your lips linger, and he almost can’t find in him to break the connection. You chase his kiss, whining a little—so cute it weakens his knees, and he can’t help but smile, liking the flutter in his stomach.

Looking down at you, he exhales shakily, heart pounding. Overwhelming warmth fills him up, crams itself into every single part of him, knowing that this is real. That you’re real, and you’re here, with him. 

“That wasn’t so bad either, huh?” he asks, giggling, his voice almost as light as he feels.

You beam at him before hiding your face in his chest, letting out a giddy laugh as he rubs circles on your back, chin on top of your head. You hate being away from him. The words echo in his head, surreal, sweet.

He’s not convinced he’ll ever stop smiling. 

Until his stomach growls, loud, slicing the quiet. Another laugh from you, the sound vibrating through him — too real to be imagined — as you pinch his waist. “Come on, baby,” you say, eyes sparkling. “Let’s eat.” 

You slip out of his hold, and Jake, helpless to do anything but follow, wraps his arms around your waist at the stove. His chest is pressed to your back, fingers curling into your sides so you don’t leave again. If you mind, you don’t voice it. You sway a little against him, humming the same song he was listening to on the bus. 

Why can’t he stay here, with you, like this, forever?

His bowl warms his lap while you put your glasses on, turning on the TV. Gossip Girl fills the screen, the voices familiar, comforting, fading into the background when you sit, your thigh pressed against his. He wonders if you realise how much of the space in his head you occupy. The flavours are rich, familiar, perfect—he’s never had cheese dakgalbi as good as yours. He sighs happily. Heart skipping a beat when he glances over at you, finding you already looking at him. You hate being away from him. Lips kiss-bitten, lenses foggy from the steam. You give a tender smile. 

Jake bites back a grin, stuffing chicken into his mouth so he doesn’t speak and admit to something crazy—the future in his head, with you. Your child (children if you want them, a dog if you don’t (hopefully a dog even if you do)), and countless nights together like this for the rest of your natural lives. 

Beside him, sane, you give commentary—perfect outfits, Serena’s hair, ugh, why is Chuck here? He nods, too far gone to do anything but copy your homework and change the answers a bit. That dress is beautiful, there’s probably tutorials if you look, why is Chuck here?

After he clears his bowl and what you couldn’t finish from yours, you make a pillow out of his shoulder. Sighing, you get comfortable while he inhales the familiar scent of your shampoo, your hair brushing his cheek. Shifting closer, you press into him, his arm tightening around you. It doesn’t take long for your breath to even out. Jake’s chest swells, overwhelmed by how much he likes this. He presses his lips to the top of your head, the softest kiss of his life, and lets his eyes flutter shut. 

He hates being away from you too.

Jake has rescheduled this dinner with his parents so many times, his mother actually called him. He didn’t answer. Instead, he flinched, threw his phone to the other end of the couch and waited for the ringing to stop. If it weren’t for his dad texting to ask about it, he wouldn’t be standing on the doorstep of his family home doing breathing exercises. 

He takes one last deep breath before putting his key in the lock. Inhale. One, two, three. Exhale. One, two, three. Open the door. “I’m home!” he calls out, stepping inside and taking off his shoes. 

Jake’s mother gasps in the kitchen as if she’s surprised, jogging out into the hall. “Jaeyun!” she cries, arms flung around him. “Oh, my boy, it’s so good to see you.” 

He only nods, letting go prematurely, long before she releases him. 

“It’s just a shame you’re harder to reach than the Prodigal Son.”

“Yeah.” Jake gives her a tight smile, a slow nod. “Just got a lot on at the minute with uni. Good to be home though.” 

She’s already heading back to the kitchen, talking over her shoulder. “Dinner’s nearly ready, so you’ve come at the perfect time. You might think about changing?”

With furrowed brows, he looks down at his outfit. Jeans. Jumper. Hardly unpresentable. “I think I’m alright, actually, Mum,” he says, following behind her. 

Seeing his dad stand up from the table tugs Jake’s lips into a boyish grin. “Dad,” he whispers, breathless, pleased, allowing himself to be pulled into a hug, his dad’s unchanged cologne hitting his nose. Floral, warm. Strong arms around him. 

“How are you, son?” he asks, quiet, private, just for them. 

“I’m good, Dad. I’m good.”

The simmer of broth. Oil frying eggs in a pan. The smell of beef strikes him, turning his hunger fierce. His stomach rumbles quietly, unsoothed by his attempts at rubbing it. He asks if his mother needs a hand, and she waves him off, shakes her head, it’s her pleasure to cook for her son. She’s wearing her apron, the same red checkered one she’s had for as long as he remembers, stirring a pot by the stove. She looks so motherly like this. As if she might come over and kiss the top of his head just because. Pat his back and say good job for simply existing. It’s all very maternal of her, like that instinct has finally kicked in, twenty short years postpartum. Maternal in a way that digs a nasty pit in his stomach. The mum-in-a-million, best-mum-ever figure he always thought Big Mum made up to push Mother’s Day cards. 

“Are you seeing anyone?” his dad asks. 

That word choice sticks out to him, it’s almost been a full year of anyones and peoples from his dad and it still warms his heart in a way he’s not sure he’ll ever adjust to. There had been some.. concerns when he was younger and innocently introduced his first school friend, Jaehyun, to his parents as his boyfriend. Concerns that were not entirely baseless, as Jake’s teenage years would soon reveal to him. 

“Any nice girls?” his mother corrects from the kitchen, not looking away from the drawer as she takes cutlery out. “Oh, who was that girl you used to be friends with? What was her name? From school, Jaeyun? Funny girl. Her mother used to teach you, what was she called?” 

Jake mumbles your name, reminds her that the two of you are still friends. He’s not sure why she insists on this song and dance, when both of them know she wouldn’t exactly be happy if he brought you — or anyone — home. He bites the inside of cheek remembering you — age fourteen — sitting at this very table, passing Jake the salt shaker and scrunching up your nose at the mention of church. Church? No, my parents said church is for people who think they’re better than everyone else. Only Jake and his dad found that funny.

She puts cutlery down for all three of them, looking down at him after placing his chopsticks. “The atheist?” she asks, saying the A-word with a certain level of distaste that Jake can’t help find amusing. 

“Yes, mum. The atheist,” he confirms, holding back a laugh at the amused smile his dad — the other atheist — wears.

There’s a look on her face when she hums, as if satisfied he acknowledged your lack of faith out loud. “I mean, you’re a bit young for a relationship, anyway.” 

“I’m twenty,” he points out. 

She raises her brow from over the kitchen island, stopping in her tracks with a steaming pot in hand. “Do you want to get married?” 

Jake shrugs, watching as she puts the pot on the table, letting the smell of short ribs envelop him. “I mean.. not right now, but at some point? Maybe?” The words leave his mouth unthinkingly, seeming wrong as soon as he says them. 

“So why would you be looking for a girlfriend?”

His mouth opens and promptly closes again, unsure of what to say. Jake glances at his dad, but he only takes a sip of his water. He’s not going to argue with her—he never does. 

“Look.” His mother sighs, tucking her hair behind her ears as she takes a seat at the table next to his dad. “A lot of people your age are out drinking and having sex, and I understand that’s how this country is, but that is not how we raised you, Jaeyun—we didn’t bring you here for that. Sex isn’t about your age; it’s about marriage. And until then, you shouldn’t even be thinking about it, never mind having it.”

Mortified, he runs a hand over his face. “I’m not having sex. Jeez, Mum.” It’s a lie that only gets harder to say the more he tells it. He might actually abstain — even from hand stuff — until marriage, if he has this conversation again. 

“Are you drinking?” 

“No, I’m not drinking.” This lie is easier. “I’m an athlete.” Because half of it is true. 

His mother tilts her head, affronted. “Jaeyun, you’re a Christian first.” 

A familiar tension wraps around him, not any easier to manage for how often he feels it around her. “You’re right, Mum. Sorry.” 

She seems pleased enough with this, her eyes lingering on him for a beat before they narrow. “I heard from Sieun’s mum that you weren’t at church this week.” Of course, she heard. She is always hearing things about Jake, and Sieun’s mum always seems to be the one saying them.

“I had a game.” 

“On Sabbath?” 

There is, for Jake, no winning where his mother is concerned. Because, of course, his breaking of the Sabbath is what matters right now. Never mind that he’s playing at a level she used to brag to her friends about. Never mind that he’s doing that, and getting top marks in his classes, and still finding time for family dinner every other week. Never mind that last term he spent two days with an IV drip in his arm from overworking himself and she didn’t text him back when he told her.

Jake’s jaw tightens, teeth grinding as he forces himself to swallow the words burning on his tongue. A glance at his dad, who’s staring down at his empty plate, pretending not to hear. Finally, he clears his throat, setting his glass down with deliberate care, a delicate arm over his wife’s shoulders. “Honey..” He trails off, eyes flicking to his son quickly. “How about we say grace before dinner gets cold?” 

Conflicted relief settles over Jake’s shoulders at this. He knew his dad would step in eventually. He had to. This is the man who sat him down at thirteen and explained consent to him in careful, measured words—again at seventeen before he moved out. The man who passed him a beer on a fishing trip when he was sixteen, told him to sip slowly, to learn the taste so he wouldn’t feel the need to prove anything to anyone later. Who had wrapped him in a hug, kissed the top of his head last year when he said he likes boys too. You’re my only son, Jaeyun. I want you to be happy. He can’t look at his dad, see the hard lines of his face, the silver strands of his hair, without seeing that too.

He nods obediently when his mother tells him to pray, holds hands with his parents, closes his eyes. His dad’s rough hand squeezes his and he smiles. “Dear Lord, thank you for giving us the opportunity to sit around the table tonight as a family. Please bless the food we’re about to eat, and the hands that made it. In your name’s sake we pray, amen.”

With that, they eat ugeoji galbitang—Jake’s favourite. He likes it too much to let anything, even his mother (who makes it best), ruin it for him. Luckily, his dad steers the conversation, shares his wins at work, compliments Jake’s highlight tape from the game over the weekend, talks about the trash movie he’s got lined up for them to watch tonight. 

Tonight. Together. As a family. Jake always spends the night after dinner, no exceptions. But he’s certain that if he spends any longer than he needs to in this house, he’ll die. He needs to come up with something, an excuse, a lie, something suddenly remembered. A commitment heavy enough that he must leave at once to attend to it. He thinks about Sunghoon, about you—but Jake’s mother is a blood is thicker than water kind of woman, and in her eyes, the only things thicker than blood are God and school. 

He clears his throat, takes a sip of water, keeps a hold on his glass even when he puts it down. “That sounds great, Dad—I mean Operation Christmas Drop sounds truly awful, but I have a paper due tonight and it’s saved on a USB so I’ll have to go home to submit it.” 

His mother continues to eat, unbothered. It’s hard to watch his dad’s smile falter, but he nods, understanding. “Another time, then.” 

Dinner continues, marked mostly by the clatter of cutlery—chopsticks on side plate, spoon on bowl. There are a lot of negative things Jake could say about his mother, but she’s the only woman in the world who could call him an embarrassment for quitting violin at fifteen, then console him with her cooking. Even the simplest sides — her fried eggs and white rice — move Jake beyond words.

He clears the table when they finish eating, his parents packing up the leftovers while speaking quietly to one another as Jake washes the dishes. He strains his ears over the running water, but it’s no use, only catching murmured honeys and nos. Coming home is a bit like being caught in a loop sometimes, like he’s checking off boxes on a list: 

1. Mum warns Jake about premarital sex

2. Jake lies and says he’s not having it

3. Dad sits in silence, pretending he didn’t buy Jake condoms when he went off to college

4. Substitute sex for some other mostly harmless vice 

5. Rinse and repeat. 

This absurd script they’re following, these roles they all fall into, time and time again. He can’t be the only one exhausted by this. 

Jake dries his hands with the dish towel hanging from the oven door and scratches at the back of his neck. “I’d really better go,” he says. “Thanks again for dinner, Mum.” 

He doesn’t hang around for her response, taking the stairs two at a time until he gets to his room. Slipping on his jacket, he looks around at the walls again. Certificates, postcards. Barer now since he took some of his favourite posters with him when he moved. Still, his Dune poster, brought home from a midnight showing, hangs above his bed. He’d stayed at Jaehyun’s house that night—his mother would never let him out so late with friends. As much as he loves it — the outline of Timothée Chalamet, Paul, tall and trim in his stillsuit — he left it behind. A quiet reminder of his small rebellion. 

Leaving always feels so final, like he has to memorise the details of his childhood room even though he’ll be back in two weeks. A sighs, more than ready to leave, but stops short, seeing the photo booth strip under his light switch. You and him, frozen in the pink frames of a four-cut photo, sixteen forever. In the last shot, your arm is around his shoulders, lips pressed to his cheek. Back then, he didn’t think he liked you—not the way he does now. But his skin had burned where you kissed him, and he hadn’t washed his face that night, afraid to lose the trace of your clear lip gloss. 

After four years, the memory sends a swarm of butterflies through his stomach, his fingers reaching up to brush his left cheek. He takes the photo, slipping it into his jacket pocket before joining his parents at the door. 

“I just want you to make good decisions,” his mother says, hugging him. Her perfume is floral, familiar. He breathes it in, holding on just a second longer than normal.

“I’m trying.”

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” his dad says, already putting on his shoes.

Jake’s chest tightens. He gulps, nodding, waves at his mother. Her eyes burn holes into his back as he follows his dad out. March’s breeze whips his jacket, lunchboxed leftovers warm his palms. They walk in silence to Jake’s car. 

“Are you happy, Jaeyun?” His dad’s voice is soft, careful. “None of this matters if you aren’t.” His calloused fingers rub at the back of Jake’s neck—a comfort. “Not your grades, not football, not church.. It’s no use working so hard if you’re not happy.”

Jake nods. “I am usually,” he admits. 

A grin. Crinkled eyes. “That’s all I ask of you.”

“Are you happy, Dad?”

His dad’s face softens, shoulders relaxing. “With you as my son?” A chuckle slips out of him. “How could I not be happy?” He pulls Jake into a tight hug, his arms strong and steady. Jake squeezes back, fingers gripping his dad’s shirt.

“I love you,” Jake says, the words muffled against his dad’s shoulder. 

His dad holds him even tighter. “I love you, son.”

They pull apart slowly, reluctant. A shared exhale. Breeze biting, still. 

“Drive safe, okay?” 

Jake nods, unlocking the car. “I will.”

His dad smiles again, giving him a nod before heading back to the house. The porch light is off when Jake starts his car. 

Thirty silent minutes pass by in a blur, unregistered until he’s taking off his seatbelt outside his building. Backpack on, leftovers in hand, he goes inside, dragging his feet up the stairs to the eighth floor. He doesn’t even have to slow his pace or catch his breath at the door to his flat—at least the gym is paying off. 

Sunghoon isn’t home. Monday night. Evening practice. Jake leaves the food on the kitchen counter to cool down and goes to his room. His bed, neatly made, fresh sheets, looks tempting, but he has other plans for the night. He gets changed and sits on the couch, waiting for Sunghoon.

For the next hour, his phone goes off regularly, but none of the notifications are from you so he doesn’t care. It only dawns on Jake that he can simply text you when he wants to see your name in his phone.

Jake: Can I come over? 

YN: I thought you had family dinner tn?

YN: Oh. I’m not at home but you can call me!!! My signal is a bit shit on the train rn but you can always call me, Jake

Jake: It’s okay, usual shit w my mum lol

Jake: Idk why I always think things will be different when I go there and always get surprised when they’re not

YN: I’m sorry she gives you such a hard time, baby

YN: I know you don’t feel like it but you’re doing such a good job. You’re juggling shit I don’t even want to imagine and you still make time for football and all your uni stuff and to make everyone in your life feel special. I promise you’re not fucking anything up at all.

YN: You don’t have to keep going over there, you know.. I get you like seeing your dad but surely you two can hang out alone? Another fishing trip, maybe? I know you had a really good time in the summer

The summer—the fishing trip, the beer, the hug. He smiles. 

Jake: Yeah, maybe

When he hits send, a key turns in the lock. Sunghoon—whistling to himself after practice. It’s nice one of them had a good Monday, that’s half of the people in the flat. Much better than thirty seconds ago, when a hundred percent of people in the flat were having a terrible day. His footsteps pad down the hall and he freezes in the doorway, brows raising in surprise. A beat. “Hey, buddy. I didn’t know you’d be back tonight.”

Jake clears his throat, but the roughness of his voice persists. “Left early.”

Sunghoon hums, nodding once before he leaves, coming back in a t-shirt and sweatpants, two beers in hand as he sits on the couch. He hands one to Jake, pulls the tab on his own, and takes a long, slow sip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” Jake shakes his head. “I put some ugeoji galbitang in the fridge for you. I don’t know if you saw.”

“Nice, man, thanks.” 

These are the last words from either of them for hours. Even when one of them gets up to use the toilet, or Sunghoon goes to get more beer. It’s not until two a.m. that they speak again. 

“Are you alright if I turn in? I need to be up soon.” Sunghoon yawns, arms stretched out in front of him. 

Jake nods, yawning too. “Yeah, of course. I should get some sleep anyway.” 

Sunghoon lingers, his hand curling and uncurling on the edge of the couch. “You sure?” he asks, only standing when Jake nods again. 

Jake collects the cans, flicking the lamp off on the way out. He turns towards the kitchen but stops in his tracks, looking over his shoulder. Sunghoon’s heading to the bathroom, hand on the doorknob when Jake says, “Thank you.” For being my best friend. For doing nothing with me for hours, he doesn’t say. 

Yet Sunghoon seems to understand. He always does. In three steps, he reaches Jake, a reassuring pat on his shoulder. “You’re my best friend,” he says, matter-of-factly, and leaves Jake in the hall, locking the bathroom door behind him. 

When Sunghoon is done, Jake goes to the bathroom, brushes his teeth. He steps into the shower, appreciating the heat of the water on his skin, how he reddens under it. Washes his face, his hair. Stands aimlessly under the spray until he starts worrying about the planet. He feels a bit better after this. Moisturises in his room, puts Vaseline on his lips, gets into bed. 

He’s lying on his side, staring at the wall. He pats around the mattress for his phone, finding it and calling you without thinking. It rings out, because, of course, you can always call me, Jake, does not mean: call me at three in the morning. 

He looks at his screen for so long it locks. Too dark to see his reflection on it. Thankfully. He opens your text thread, drafting a message. Called by mistake HAHAHAHAHA dw! Delete. Sorry for calling so late, maybe we could hang out when you’re up? Coff—there’s a knock at his door and he locks his phone, tucking it under his pillow like a child. 

“What is it?” he calls out. 

The door clicks open behind him, closes softly. Your voice. “Hey, Jakey.” 

He sits up immediately, your name falling out of his mouth like a question. You’re standing there in your pyjamas, angelic, everything he’s ever wanted, blued by the moon shining through his window.  And if he wasn’t so upset, so convinced he’s making this all up, he would scold you for coming over at this time in only a vest and shorts. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move too abruptly, so as not to disrupt the dreamscape. Slowly, carefully, he lifts the end of his duvet, a silent invitation. You step towards him, crawling into his arms, soft skin warm on his, a kiss to his chest. 

This is.. real? 

You are real?

Turning on his lamp, he pushes your hair from your face, studying you. Soft bow of your lips, gentle slope of your nose, flutter of your lashes when you blink. Lamplight cuts sharp orange angles over your cheekbone, carving you out of the dark. He kisses you, a fleeting press of his lips to yours. To check. 

You are real, and breathtaking, always so breathtaking, and here, with him.

“How did you..?” He trails off, unsure what to ask—get here? Know I needed this? 

“Hoon called and came to pick me up,” you say, answering both of his questions at once.

This is.. overwhelming. Beyond. That Sunghoon would think to call you, go so far as to pick you up at this hour. That you would get out of bed for this—for him. That there are people in his life, bound only to him by choice, who care this much. Jake swallows around the lump in his throat, eyes stinging with hot tears, desperate to spill. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, cupping his cheek in your palm. “I’m so sorry, baby.” 

Baby. Your baby. He has half a mind to tell you he loves you, but he’s touched, not insane, so he bites his tongue. Hides his face in the crook of your neck. 

“Oh, Yunie,” you say, stroking his back, your touch a grounding force. “I wish there was something I could do.”

He kisses the spot where your neck and shoulder meet. Lifts his head. Smiles as the first tear slips from his cheek onto yours. “You’re here.” 

Jake kisses your lips—soft, fleeting, hardly more than a peck. It’s not enough. Another kiss, longer, lingering, your warmth undoing him. Wrapping you in his arms, he tucks you close to his chest, clinging onto you like a lifeline. I love you. Over and over, he thinks it. Prayers on a rosary. So loud in his head he’s not convinced you can’t hear him. His eyes flutter shut, and with your steady breath on his skin, he lets himself fall asleep. 

Jake wakes up first, grinning at the sight of you curled against him, your face squished into his chest. His arms tighten instinctively, as if to keep you there, as if you might slip away. He watches you, still as he can, taking in the quiet, the warmth, you. As if sensing his gaze, you open your eyes, sleep-heavied blinks as you look up at him. You shift in his hold, turning your head enough to see his alarm clock. 08:46. A groan leaves your lips, and you bury your face back into his chest. 

He kisses the top of your head, mumbling against it. “Morning, baby.” 

Your groan doesn’t stop, drawn-out, dejected, rumbling against his skin until you tip your head back. “Come shower with me.” Your voice is thick with sleep, the words said as if you think it might be the only solution for your suffering. 

And it would be rude of him not to at least help you find out.

Jake has definitely had more productive showers, but he’s never had a better one than this. Skin on skin. Lips on lips, and neck, and chest. Slippery hands all over each other. Wet heat overwhelming him—press of bodies, rush of water. Trembling breath, racing heart. Your fingers around his wrist, guiding his hand between your thighs. 

By the time you’re clean, and moisturised, there’s only twenty minutes until your class starts. Pulling a pair of his sweatpants over your hips, you make a joke, laughing to yourself as you blame Jake for what you started. He’s a terrible influence, using his masculine wiles to seduce, corrupt, and make you late. 

He snorts, shaking his head. “So I’m a pervert in this fantasy of yours?” 

“I think you like it, Jakey,” you say, walking towards him, arms looping around his neck, fingers in his hair, chuckling. “Making a harlot out of an honest woman.”

Jake pinches your waist, liking the way it makes you jolt and squeal—trying to focus on that instead of the sharpness of the word harlot against his ears. He almost shudders, jarred by its dissonance. Sounding more like a word that might share a page with some of the other words that have disturbed him recently. Words he’s done a good job of pushing to the back of his mind—words he’s putting in a lot of effort to keep there. He sniffs, leaning down to kiss you. It was a joke, Jake. You were joking. It was a Christmas joke.

“Alright, Virgin Mary,” he mumbles against your lips, pulling away before you accuse him of further debasing. “Let’s go.” 

He drives you home so you can get your stuff, and you make a beeline for your room when you arrive. He doesn’t follow. Instead, he takes a deep breath and knocks on Jimin’s door. 

She groans when she sees him, head falling back. “What?” she huffs, voice thick with irritation. 

“Can we talk?” he shifts on his feet. “Please?” 

Jimin’s answer takes a while. She eyes him with her arms crossed over her chest. He can’t help looking over his shoulder, at your closed door, wondering how long you’ll take to change and pack your bag. With a sigh, Jimin steps aside, and he takes a cautious step in, making a point to stay near the door as he closes it—unsure how welcome he really is. 

“What did I do to you?” he asks hesitantly, watching as she sits on the end of her unmade bed. 

“You didn’t do anything to me.” Jimin shrugs, continuing when Jake opens his mouth to speak. “But I’m sure you’ll forgive me if I don’t trust the ‘innocent’ guy best friend who pounces at the first chance he gets.”

“Pounces?” he repeats, like it’s his first time hearing the word. “I’m not an animal, Jimin. There was no pouncing. If anything, she pounced on me.”

“So she’s an animal, is that what you’re saying?” 

Jake sighs, seeing there’s no way to win here. “Sure,” he says dryly. “She’s a tiger. Happy?” 

This doesn’t amuse Jimin. “What do you want with her?” 

He shrugs like he hasn’t given it much thought. “I want whatever she wants. If she wants to hook up, we’ll hook up. If she doesn’t, we won’t.” 

“You like her.” It’s not a question, but an accusation that softens her voice, raises her brows. 

Jake chews his lip, and that’s enough. Jimin’s jaw drops. “Oh, my God. I was worried you were going to hurt her, and this whole time I should’ve been worried about her hurting you.” She shakes her head, a laugh of disbelief coming out. “Good luck.”

He’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. 

Until it involved him, Jake hadn’t heard much about your sex life since first year. Thankfully. Kim Mingyu — Hot Mingyu, as you and Jimin still call him — is the last name he remembers. Older, massive, lived up to his moniker. He was always talking about the gym or his tech start-up, and eventually, he ended things because he didn’t believe Jake was just your friend. Jake suspects that the memory of Hot Mingyu will stick with him forever, because it was the first time it ever occurred to him that he didn’t want to be just friends with you. 

Jimin apologises, opening her arms and approaching him. She says that she should’ve known. Quiet, sympathetic, Jake thinks, hating it. But the door swings open, hitting his back before she can hug him. You poke your head into the room with a smile, oblivious. “Ready to go?” 

Back in the car, you try to peer pressure Jake into speeding, and he appeases you, doing thirty-two miles per hour in a thirty zone. Giving up with a huff, you turn your body away from him, knees against the passenger door. He’s too busy thinking about what Jimin said to comment—what the fuck does good luck mean?

And he’s so busy trying to figure that out, he doesn’t even realise you’re still wearing his sweatpants until you get out of the car. “Thanks for the lift, Jakey.”

Jakey smiles. Jakey waves. Jakey watches you leave. Jakey sits in his car for an hour before going home. 

He finds Sunghoon—home from practice, and eating an early lunch by the kitchen window. Standing, like he always does when he eats alone. “Hey, buddy,” he says, glancing quickly over his shoulder. “Feeling better?” 

Without a second thought — or a first one — Jake charges towards him, tackling him more than he hugs him. “Thank you.” 

Sunghoon goes stiff, completely tense in Jake’s hold. A shrug, slow and unnatural. “Don’t mention it,” he says, voice strained. A single, awkward pat of Jake’s back. “Could you please let go of me now? For a minute?” 

Apologising, Jake quickly releases him, feeling bad for the ambush. “I’m going to thank you again for last night, and I need you to accept it this time. You didn’t have to do that for me, but you did it anyway.”

Sunghoon turns, amused, leaning against the wall and taking a spoonful of yoghurt to the mouth. “I’m waiting.”

“Thank you, Sunghoon. Really.”

“You’re welcome, Jake,” he says, monotone, but his eyes are soft and he’s smiling. “And if you’re going to the library today, can we go together? I’m slacking, man—I need to lock in. Quickly.”

Jake chuckles at his deflection, but nods and says, “Of course.” 

They have different approaches to studying — Sunghoon puts his headphones on, and hyper-fixates on his task for as many consecutive hours as he can; Jake swears by Pomodoro, twenty-five minutes on, five minutes off — but they work alongside each other quite effectively. Jake squints at AutoCAD. Sunghoon scrolls through physio clinic listings. Jake texts his dad, asking if they can go fishing soon. Sunghoon continues to look for summer placements. Parallel play. 

His Pomodoro timer goes off silently, a notification in the corner of his laptop screen, and he lets out a relieved breath—he has high hopes not to study anything architecture related after this term, in a perfect world, he’ll never have to so much as look at a building again. When he checks his phone, his dad has replied, suggesting that they go next weekend, and he’s still typing when Jake opens their thread.

Dad: And if you want, you can bring that ‘friend’ of yours. It would be nice to see her again. 

Dad: The atheist. 😆.

Jake: Yeah, dad, that sounds good haha. I’m sure she’d love to! I’ll ask

Sunghoon takes off his headphones, thick brows furrowed as he looks over at Jake. “Training starts, like, now, no?”

The time is bright and reproachful on Jake’s screen. 19:55. Five minutes to get to Coach’s office on the other end of the building. A jolt of panic launches him out of his seat, shoving his laptop and notebooks hurriedly into his bag while Sunghoon watches, yawning.

“Can I come?” 

The question catches him so off guard, his hand freezes over the zipper of his backpack. “What? To training?” Jake asks, cocking his head. “I mean, probably. We have analysis before we start so I’m not sure about that, but you can definitely watch us on the pitch if you want.” 

A sigh of relief, as he stands. Firm hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Thank God, bro—can’t be fucked walking home.”

They’re the last to arrive, but thankfully Coach isn’t there yet. None of the guys question Sunghoon’s presence, they’re actually more pleased to see him than they are their own teammate. He leads Sunghoon to the end of the room, instructing him not to draw attention to himself—he gives a thumbs-up, whispering, got it, when the door clicks open. 

The first thing Coach says is, “Who the fuck is this guy?”

Why he thought his gargantuan best friend could be inconspicuous anywhere, never mind standing right behind him, is anyone’s guess. Sunghoon, for some reason, says nothing. Jake clears his throat. “He’s—uh—he’s my flatmate, Coach.”

Coach sighs, rubs his face with his hand. “Whatever. Don’t speak unless I speak to you. Understand?” 

“Sir, yes, sir.” Sunghoon gives a firm nod, raising a hand in salute. 

Another sigh from Coach, wrinkles in his forehead showing as he mutters something to himself. “We have a lot to cover, so let’s not waste more time.” He pulls up the match video on his laptop—always calling them the highlights, but criticises them aggressively. “Yang, what have I told you about hogging the ball?” 

Jungwon’s smile is audible. “That I’ve improved a lot, and you’ve never seen a better sportsman than me.” This answer wins him a death glare. “Fine, I hogged the ball a little, but we won!” 

This seems to amuse Coach, who laughs and looks around the room. “A little, the boy says.” The video starts—a minute long clip of Jungwon with the ball at his feet, neglecting multiple opportunities to pass. No cuts. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t bench you.” 

“I’m not seeing the big deal here. We literally won.” 

“You didn’t win this weekend because you have a selfish striker,” Coach says coldly. “You won because the other team was incompetent. And if you keep playing like that, you’ll cost us the season.” 

Jungwon isn’t smiling anymore.

Analysis goes on like always. Backhanded praise; thinly-veiled insults; Coach is pleased with his decision to appoint Jay Captain—words that no longer form a lump in Jake’s throat. In fact, he even pats Jay on the back, smiling sincerely when he looks over. 

Jake: Post-match went well 💪

Dad: Of course, son. You played brilliantly! So proud. 😆. 

Training flies by in a blur of five-a-side games and recreations of some of the poorer plays from Saturday’s game, Coach giving real-time corrections with varying degrees of rudeness. And before he knows it, the final whistle blows, dismissing them. Jake jogs off the pitch, legs heavy with exertion, mind buzzing with the rush of playing. His shirt is damp with sweat, sticking uncomfortably to his stomach, but he can’t look away from his reflection in the locker room mirrors. Cheeks and neck flushed, glowing. He looks good. Feels good—too good to just stand there staring at himself. So, he takes his shirt off, and without much thought sends you a photo. 

YN: Day 537727272724733 without dick: I came just from seeing this picture

Jake: Has it been that long? 

YN: I can’t count how many times I squirted while looking at that

YN: Fr though come over rn. Need that bad.

Jake: Are you objectifying me?

YN: Is it working . 

Jake: Yes. But I need to drop off Riki and Hoon then shower so……..

Jake: Wait up for me?

YN: Fine. 

The drive to Riki’s place has never been so long, and Sunghoon sleeps the whole way. Growing impatient, Jake almost starts driving off before his teammate is even all the way out of the car. Every light is green on the way home, no traffic at all—a blessing, Jake thinks. He takes a quick shower, brushes his teeth, and leaves the flat in a hurry, sprinting down the stairs to get back to his car. 

He buckles his belt with shaking hands, a text lighting his phone screen. Checking it immediately, he sees that Sunoo sent a Reddit link to the team group chat: like palmer’s not one of the best players in the league rn. Curious, he clicks it, the app’s familiar logo colouring his screen orange, and before Sunoo’s video has the chance to load, something else catches his attention—the number 54 sitting on his notification tab. His heart sinks to his stomach, he knows exactly what’s waiting for him under there. But he clicks it anyway, rereads the post he made only two weeks ago now. And looks straight at the comments, knowing what they’ll say before he sees them. 

It is a sin, brother. And there is a demon inside of you that wants you to keep committing this sin. You need to repent and flee from fornication at once. This sin is extremely demonic, it took me away from Christ completely, and I was on my way to h*ll. 

The Holy Spirit is working in you. Thank God for giving you a conscience and do not go through with it no matter what. 

You want advice? Turn to 1 Corinthians 7:2 and Hebrews 13:4. The Bible is very clear that the only acceptable time for sex is after marriage. 

Honestly bro, just marry her lmao 

I lost my job, my girlfriend left me, and I got hit by a car after indulging in fornication. It is not worth it, my brother, take heed. I will pray for you. 

Jake’s brain buffers, the words blurring together as he scrolls, searching for a different answer. Someone, anyone in the comments telling him it’s okay, that he will be okay, and he’s not going to hell for simply wanting to have sex. 

Nothing. 

A humourless laugh comes out of him, an exhausted huff. He rests his heavy head on the steering wheel—he can’t be bothered anymore. This isn’t just sex for him. There’s a future here—he’s not sure what it is, or how he’ll get there. But surely, surely, something good, something worthwhile is at the end of this. And isn’t that worth something? Wouldn’t God want him to enjoy himself? 

Jake takes a deep breath, white-knuckle grip on the wheel, and says a prayer. “Dear Lord, thank you for all you’ve done for me—but I’m not waiting any longer. I’m really going to do this, Jesus. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” 

Jake pauses, peeking around the car with one of his eyes to check for hellfire—the coast is clear. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Amen.” 

It’s the most cautious drive of his life, checking every mirror and blindspot thrice, hands sitting firmly at ten and two—kissing twenty miles per hour the whole way. Parked outside, he climbs over the centre console to use the passenger door because it opens out onto the pavement, and no way one of those cars that’s going around striking down the sexually immoral is going to spawn there. He uses the stairs instead of the lift, and makes it to your flat in one piece. 

He doesn’t even have a chance to knock before you pull the door open, telling him he took so long as you take him by the hand and tug him over the threshold. “My fault, baby,” he says, apologetic. Jake bites his lip, eyes trailing over you. Fallen strap of your tank top, nipples pressing through thin fabric, shorts riding up. Good God. He gulps, dick stirring in his pants as you drag him to the living room.

Sinking into the couch, he looks up at you, eyeing him like you want to eat him alive—he’d let you, he wants you to. He pulls you into his lap, kissing you. A moan tugged out of his chest when you grind down on him. At this, you pull away, chest heaving. Lips swollen, wet. He can’t help but reach out and touch them, tracing your mouth with his thumb, pressing down on your plush bottom lip, before pushing it past your teeth. Fuck. Your eyes meet his, hazy, unfocused as you suck on his thumb, letting your tongue graze the tip. Holding his wrist, you stroke it and take his finger all the way to the knuckle, looking at him the same way you do when you’re kneeling between his spread thighs.

You tug at his shirt, mumbling around his finger. “Why are you still wearing this?” 

“Waiting for you to take it off of me, baby.” 

An imperceptible hitch of your breath before you reach for the hem, tugging it over his head. You bite your lip, admiring him and his cheeks burn scarlet under your gaze. “Can’t believe you look like this.” Warm hands on his skin, fingers trailing his abs and the fading love bites you’d left behind. “Such a lucky girl,” you whisper, awestruck as you kiss him urgently. 

Emboldened, eager for more praise — and frankly, extremely turned on — he stands, grip firm on your ass when he does. 

“Holy shit,” you utter, pulling away, eyes blown and unguarded. “Have you always been this strong?” 

This acknowledgement of his efforts makes his entire body flush, hot and bothered from head to toe. As he shrugs sheepishly, he can’t help wishing he could be more nonchalant when it comes to you. Wishing he could just nod, say yeah—even though you both know the strength and the muscle definition are new. Jake’s stomach flutters when you smile, leaning back into him, kissing and mumbling against his lips that he’s so hot. 

In your room, the two of you collapse onto the bed, attached at the hips and mouth. He begins to understand some of those freaks in the subreddit, how this — how you — could easily knock him off-kilter and take over his life. You grab his wrist, tugging his hand towards the spot between your legs, and killing his train of thought in the process.

Nothing else registers except your soft cotton shorts, drenched against his fingers and stuck to you. “Holy fuck,” he mumbles. 

“Do something about it.”

Nodding, he pulls the fabric off of you, moves it to the side. Sucking a breath through his teeth, he stares straight ahead. Shocked, turned on by how wet you are, and his fingers slip around so much he has to focus to keep them on your clit. It’s worth it, more than, for the way you whine, rutting your hips on his hand. Groaning, he lets his finger slip into you, adjusting his pants when you moan, his thumb working your clit in circles. Another finger slips inside, so easy, so slick and so warm, your walls clenching around him. The sound alone makes him dizzy. “So fucking wet,” he says, pressing deeper, fingers curling, watching your mouth fall open. “You’re killing me, baby.” 

Completely under your spell, he can’t look away from the spot where his fingers disappear into you. “My pretty girl.” He hums, licking his lips. “So pretty all over.” Jake’s dick actually hurts looking at you, straining against his pants, darkening the fabric with precum. Adding a third finger, he presses harder on your clit, groaning when your back arches off the bed. “You like it, huh? Feels good?” 

You only moan in response, clutching the sheets in your fists as you shake against them. It doesn’t take long for you to gasp, letting out a cry of his name as your body gives in, release spilling out around his fingers all while he stares in awe, open-mouthed. The soft curves of your body, flushed and shuddering and perfect. 

Panting, you look up at him with sparkling eyes and tug lightly at your waistband. He guides your hips up gently, pulling your shorts down and leaving them at the end of the bed. “Your turn,” you breathe out. Jake stands up from the bed to take his sweats and underwear off without a second thought. Your gaze traces his body, tongue wetting your lips, eyes caught on his dick as it smacks his stomach. “Need a minute.” 

“Course, baby.” He needs a minute too, hardly able to tear his eyes off the cum painting your pretty pussy white. As gently as he can, he runs his fingers through it, bringing them to his lips and humming around them. Oh, my God. “Tastes so good.”

A lazy smile curves your lips and you nudge his chest with your foot, leaning up on your elbows. “Twelve days. It’s been twelve days, Jake.” 

Confused, he tears his eyes from between your legs, looking up at you instead. Sweat-slicked skin glowing in the dim lamplight. No one has ever looked so beautiful, he’s certain. “Of what?” he asks, stroking himself absentmindedly. 

Your eyes follow the movement of his wrist, chewing on your bottom lip for a beat before your gaze flicks up to meet his. “Earlier, I said some stupid number and you asked if it’s been that long.” 

“Twelve days,” Jake repeats, hardly believing it. Hardly believing the fact that you’re laid out in front of him, glowing, gorgeous, and he’s still waiting—for what, he’s not sure. “Whoa,” he mutters, leaning over you, his hand on your cheek. “Twelve?” 

You nod, pouting. “Twelve,” you repeat, holding onto his wrist, kissing his palm. “Don’t make me wait any longer.” 

“Condom, baby.” He pulls away, but your grip on him tightens. 

“Don’t need it.” 

Jake raises a brow. Sceptical. Horny. “Are you sure?” 

“Certain. But I’ve never..” You trail off, clearing your throat. 

He knows what you mean, and his stomach flips over. “Same,” he admits. “Where should I..?”

“Inside. Please.” 

His eyes widen, searching yours, staring. You nod again, saying, please. 

Leaning down, he kisses your cheek. “Missed this, baby. Missed you,” he admits. He feels you shudder under him, a shaky breath fanning his skin when he nudges your clit with his tip. Lifting his head, he looks down at your face, taking you in. Lidded eyes blinking heavily, fluttering lashes, sweat beading along your hairline. “Still can’t believe it—how lucky I am, getting to see you like this.”

“Never wanted anyone this much.” 

His breath ceases, butterflies tumbling in his stomach. “Me neither.” The words feel bigger than they should, heavy as they settle between you. A beat passes slowly, his heart shifting in his chest. He leans in, pressing his lips to yours and hoping this kiss is enough to tell you everything he can’t quite say out loud. 

“Please, Jake,” you say, mumbling against his lips.  

So hot and so soft and so wet. Holy fuck. He sinks his teeth into his lip, freezing. It’s his tip, literally just his tip, but it’s enough to leave him lightheaded. He wonders if he’ll even last long enough to get to the part where he’s all the way in. “Won’t last long like this,” he says out loud, his own voice seeming distant.

You’re looking up at him with wet eyes, shaking—breath harsh, shallow. “Good,” you whisper. “We can go again, however you want it.” 

Again, he thinks, looking forward to it. As if he’s not already losing his mind. 

“Need more,” you breathe. “More, baby. Please.” 

Rocking his hips forward, slow as he can, he holds his breath at the feeling of you opening up around him, inch by precious inch. It’s incredible he went so long without this. Twelve whole days. Unfathomable now—impossible, surely. Both of you whine as he bottoms out, a ragged sigh coming out of him, his head falling. Relieved. Wound up. He opens his eyes and regrets it immediately—you, mouth agape, eyes screwed shut. Holy shit. “You okay, baby?” he manages. 

A smile spreads over your lips, a content breath slipping out of you. “Perfect, Jakey. Always forget..” You trail off, shaking your head, struggling to get the words out. “Forget how big you are.” 

His entire body flushes, set alight. “You always take it so good, though. Such a good girl, yeah? Fit me just right.” He knows how it sounds, but he means it. Truly. It’s never felt like this. He didn’t even know it could feel like this — so perfect, so right — until you. The rightness of it all is so intense he almost comes then and there, biting his lip so hard he tastes copper on his tongue.

The clench of you around him is raw and startling, forcing stars behind his eyelids with each blink. There’s a brief, stunned silence when Jake finally pulls his hips back, like neither of you quite believe it. There’s nothing between you like this, no clear distinction between your body and his. Your hands skim his back, delicately tracing the column of his spine with your nails, careful, venerating, plump lips apart as your eyes meet.

Before he knows it, he’s thrusting all the way back in, one smooth, desperate stroke. A half-gasp, half-sob cry of his name comes out of you, unravelling him entirely as your legs wrap around his hips. Breath staggered, shallow, he tries to keep his cool, letting his mouth find your neck—trailing the distance from top to bottom. Four kisses long. 

Not bothering to suppress his own moans and whimpers, he sets a steady rhythm, relieved that you seem to be enjoying this as much as him, mewling and clawing at his skin. Trembling, gasping, you — cut and pasted from his dreams — pull him in and the need to spend forever like this consumes him. With another cry of his name, you tense around him, head tipping back into the pillows as your orgasm hits. And he’s right there with you, skin burning from the inside out as he falls apart, gasping your name when he comes, filling you up. 

He doesn’t move right away — he’s not sure if he can — staying on top of you while you card your fingers through his hair, panting. As his heartbeat steadies, he leans up on his palms. You look at him, all soft and sleepy and perfect, still catching your breath. 

“Hi,” you whisper, smiling. 

“Hey, baby.” 

Neither of you seem to be in any rush to move, so he rolls you onto your sides, all tangled up and face to face. You press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before curling into his chest, your skin damp and hot. Bowing his head, Jake offers a silent prayer—not seeking forgiveness, but giving thanks. 

A week goes by as usual—football, uni, seeing you. No pestilence or famine. No mark of the beast branded on his chest. Two suspiciously placed pimples on his forehead that have not sprouted into horns. No vehicular retribution. So far, no smiting.

The spring sun sets slowly, pinkening Jake’s wall through the cracks in his blinds. He has the apartment to himself while Sunghoon’s at training, so he’s making the most of his alone time. Head on pillow, phone in hand, switching through apps every few minutes as it nears time for him to leave. It’s a dangerous game, his favourite perhaps — doomscrolling time in bed — one that typically ends with him missing his plans, or staying up into all hours of the night watching Cole Palmer edits, and eighty-seven part Tiktok storytimes.

Tonight’s plan — every Wednesday night’s plan — is Bible study at church. And it’s not like he doesn’t want to go, honestly, he’s looking forward to it. It’s just that Chelsea played Arsenal yesterday, and won, so the edits are extra good, hot off the press and populating his for you page. Jesus would understand, surely. Would do the same, probably. As it stands, he’s watched this one edit of Palmer’s last-minute goal four times, and finds himself reciting, City’s boy is Chelsea’s man, with the commentator as your name pops up on his screen. A phone call. 

“Jakey, hey,” you say, voice so sweet his lips curl up. “Can I see you? In like, an hour, maybe?”

“Are you alright?” 

You hum in response. “Just want to see you.”

Something about the words, their softness, sincerity, knocks the wind out of him. He clears his throat, pulling the phone from his ear to check the time. 18:30. His stomach flutters, his heart racing, suddenly struck by your absence as if he hadn’t realised he was alone. A voice he’s gotten good at tuning out reminds him that he already missed church this week because he slept in, so he should at least go to study tonight. 

“I have Bible study in an hour, and it’s on until like half eight, but I’m free after that.” 

“Ugh,” you groan, and you sound so genuinely perturbed by this news that he has to fight a smile. “Jimin and I are having the girls over at nine.” 

“Thirty minutes is plenty,” he points out.

You sigh. “I don’t mean sex, Jake. I just.. want to spend time with you,” you say softly, “I’m kind of missing the friends part of this whole thing.” 

Jake shifts against his pillow, a pit in his stomach. He frowns, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, yeah, I’m sorry. Of course.” The words come out quickly, tripping over his tongue. “I’m all yours tomorrow, I have nothing on,” he says, only slightly lying—he has football training in the evening. 

“I’m not free until Sunday..” You trail off. “What if I come to your Bible study? Can I do that?” 

A slow moment passes while he considers this. You? Come to Bible study? “But you’re.. an atheist.” 

“So what? If your church friends are as hot as you, I’d like to see for myself.” 

“They aren’t, but I’m happy you said that.” This is.. only slightly untrue. If you ask Jake, his church friends are hotter than him. In a silent prayer, he wishes ill on Mark Lee and Hamada Asahi. Nothing major, of course, just enough that they can’t make it tonight—an itchy throat, runny nose. Anaphylactic shock, maybe. 

“Do I have to dress up or anything?”

He shakes his head even though you can’t see. “You can wear whatever you want, it’s casual. Do you need a ride?”

“A ride home, maybe?” you say, sounding unsure. “I’m out right now.”

“What are you doing?”

You hesitate, stumbling over your words to say, “I’m—uh—I’m looking at records with Heeseung.” 

This information makes Jake’s stomach tense—just a little. Lee Heeseung. Tall. Older. Freakishly handsome. Sits at the friends-you’ve-kissed table with Jake. And Jaehyun. And Yizhuo. An—have any of your friends gone unkissed? Sigh. He feels significantly unspecial. 

“Oh..” he offers, trailing off, unsure what to make of that. “Find anything cool?” 

“Like you won’t believe!” The excitement in your voice is not lost to the phone, in fact, it’s so clear he can picture you rocking on your feet as you speak. He grins at the thought, distracted enough not to worry about when Heeseung graduated from drunken makeout to sober hangout. “Okay, I have to go, but I’ll see you in an hour!” 

Jake laughs on an exhale. “See you in an hour.”

With the end of the call, his Palmer edit starts again, and Jake falls back into the for you page like nothing happened. Edit after edit, each more creative than the last slip by at the swipe of a thumb, but now he’s starting to think that maybe he should wash his hair before he sees you, and you know, put on a suit, or something. In a casual way. Hair washed. Suit on hanger. It only takes four tries to settle on the perfect hoodie and baggy jeans, and with a spritz of his good cologne, he leaves the flat. 

It’s colder out than he’d like, the March chill nipping at him as he sits on the church steps, worsened he’s sure by his lack of a jacket. He prays you had the foresight to wear a jacket. If you didn’t—well, there’s not much he can do if you didn’t. Why didn’t he bring one for you? Jake sighs, breath clouding in front of him like smoke. Logically, he knows he’d be better off waiting in his car or inside, but he’s glued to the spot. What if you get lost? What if you miss the massive, traditional cathedral with the steeple and the steps? Or his car in the parking lot? What if you somehow miss all of those things located at the address he sent you? 

Bible study starts in ten minutes, but time stops when he sees you. Wearing a jacket, zipped all the way up to your chin. He exhales, relieved, a part of him unravelling. Before he realises, he’s jogging over, pulling you into a hug. He can’t resist breathing you in — all soft vanilla and coconut — glad to see you. Your arms loop around his neck, hands — ice cold — on his skin, making him shiver. You pull back, just a touch, and press your lips to his cheek in a soft kiss. Jake stiffens, his breath catching as the warmth of your lips lingers on his skin. 

As you walk ahead towards the church, he can’t stop focusing on the spot where your lips brushed his skin, resisting the urge to reach up and touch it. You’ve been talking, he realises, and he hasn’t heard a word—a distant hum until he catches the question in your voice.

“What did you say?” he asks, eyes flicking up towards you as you turn to face him on the steps. 

You’re a whole head taller like this, gaze trailing over every inch of his face. “Are you alright? You look a little sick.” 

Jake forces a smile, nodding. “All good,” he says, trying to convince himself more than you. 

He moves ahead, deliberately putting space between you, avoiding any chance for you to press further. His stomach flutters when you take his hand, the touch small, soft, but he smiles nonetheless as you give it a gentle squeeze. The foyer is empty when you arrive, but the murmur of voices from the Parish hall reaches his ears, grounding him. 

Jake holds the door open, gesturing for you to go in first as he follows behind you, taking stock of the room. No Asahi (thank gosh), but Mark is here, beaming, talking to—is that Park Jihoon? Back from college? Today? (What the fuck???) Sunghoon, at least, is a grounding sight, a sigh of relief slipping out of Jake when he sees him—sitting with.. Kim Chaewon? Of ‘Park Sunghoon, you’re dead to me,’ fame. Incredible. Somehow, your being here is the least surprising part of this whole affair. 

Sunghoon grins when he sees Jake, but he jumps from his seat seeing you, and jogs across the room to say hi. Much to Chaewon’s displeasure, he throws his arms around you, and Jake sees her eye twitch. With his hands on your shoulders, Sunghoon looks at you like it’s been years, genuine delight on his face. “I hope you feel blessed tonight, really.” 

Jake eyes his friend, trying to suss him out, but he can’t discern the source of his elation, which makes him wary. If he knows his friend—Sunghoon’s happiness is coming at Jake’s expense. 

“May God bless you, Jake.”

He can’t help rolling his eyes. “Thank you, Mr Chaewon.” 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Sunghoon says wearily, shaking his head. 

Jake’s brows touch his hairline, hardly believing his ears. He leans in, asking quietly. “You’re not sleeping with her?” 

“Okay, yeah, it’s exactly what it looks like.” Sunghoon scratches the back of his neck, excusing himself before going back to his seat and leaning toward Chaewon, whispering something in her ear that makes her smile. 

Quiet lingers in Sunghoon’s absence, just long enough for Mark to come over, elated, as he daps him up. “Hey, man! Good to see you,” he says, grinning. He means it. It really is good — for Mark — to see Jake. And to think, Jake had been praying for this guy’s demise just an hour ago. Guilty, embarrassed, he echoes Mark’s sentiment, smiling at this ray of sunshine man in front of him. 

“I’m Mark,” he says, extending a hand for you to shake. He repeats your name when you say it, nodding, that warm smile on his sweet face. “Thank you for coming, I’m so glad you made it,” stupid, charming Mark continues, still holding onto your hand. 

You lean up to Jake’s ear when Mark leaves, whispering. “I thought you said your church friends were a bunch of ugly, incel freaks.”

He snorts, eyes on his shoes. “They are.” 

“Mark definitely isn’t.” 

“He’s abstaining,” Jake blurts out, looking around to make sure no one’s close enough to overhear. “Which is fine,” he adds, trying to play it off. His gaze catches on Jihoon and his new college biceps, and in a panic, he stumbles over his words trying to deter you from him too. “And Jihoon.. well..” Jake’s voice falters. A pause. “He’s in love with Mark.”

“How convenient.” You roll your eyes, sitting down in the empty seat behind you. “Who’s Jihoon?”

Jake shakes his head, checking his phone as he sits. “Nobody.” 

Hoon: You brought her to Bible study bro?

Jake: She wanted to come

Hoon: You picked a good night, I’m excited to get into tonight’s study! 

Hoon: Godspeed, brother. Amen. 

He sighs, shaking his head as he tucks his phone into his pocket. Beside him, you shift a little, your knee bumping his. 

Mark clears his throat, pulling Jake’s attention back to the circle. “Is there anyone who wants to say a prayer to get us started?” he asks, looking around the room. 

From the other side of the circle, Sunghoon’s hand shoots up, and Jake has to stop himself from sighing in relief. Some of the other more.. enthusiastic members of the church pray for a while, but Sunghoon has a certain way of getting to the point. Bowing his head, he clasps his hands neatly in his lap. “Dear, Lord. Thank you for bringing us here safely this evening,” he starts, voice steady and sincere. “Please bless the study we’re about to take part in and help us to understand. Thank you for touching Jake’s heart and allowing him to bring a friend, may she be filled by your word.” He pauses, clearing his throat. 

At this, Jake steals a glance up, eyes flicking to Sunghoon, only to see him staring already, a wide grin on his face. What the Hell? Jake’s stomach twists as he looks away, focuses on his hands in his lap, the white-knuckled grip he has on his pant legs. 

“In your name’s sake we pray, amen.”

A resounding amen follows, and when Jake looks at you, you’re shooting Sunghoon a thumbs up like he just delivered the prayer of the century—not a terrifying snippet of what the night might entail if he has anything to do with it. In his seat, Sunghoon crosses one leg over the other with a smirk, winking at Jake.

Who needs enemies with a best friend like this?

“Uh, thank you for that, Sunghoon,” Mark says, taking a seat. “Jake, can I ask you to open 1 Corinthians 6:18, and read it out for us?” 

“Of course.” 

Jake ignores Sunghoon’s eyes on him as he pulls out his phone, searching for the verse in his Bible app. 1 Corinthians. Perfect. He’s at ease, trying to remember its exact wording, something about how love is patient and kind. Sunghoon was right, with a study topic like this — light, inoffensive — tonight is a good night to have brought you along. Who knows? Maybe divine intervention will have you confessing your undying love for him before the night’s over. 

He sits up straighter in his seat when he finds it, smiling. “Reading from the New International Version, 1 Corinthians 6.18: Flee from sexual immorality—” Wait. What? Jake stops short, his stomach dropping. He skims the rest of the verse and offers a silent prayer, suggesting to Jesus that now is a perfect time for His second coming—you know, if He’s planning on it. Amen. There’s a choked-off snicker from the other side of the circle. Sunghoon.

“Uh—sorry. Going on.” Jake clears his throat, ignoring the heat creeping up the back of his neck. “All other sins a person commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body.” 

Before he has a chance to lock his phone or launch himself out the window, Jihoon starts speaking. “I think it goes without saying that this is not a space for judgment. Everyone’s journey is their journey and no one here is without sin.” 

“Exactly, Hoon,” Mark says, nodding. “So now that I’ve scared you all into abstinence, is there anyone who wants to talk about what they think that verse might mean?” 

Silence. Everyone glances at each other, waiting for someone else to speak. No one does. 

Mark exhales, slumping in his seat. “Really? Nothing? Great. Well—uh.” He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes flicking to the ceiling as if God might come down and help him out. Maybe even rapture him. That could be cool, and Jake could maybe be raptured next. “Look, I didn’t pick this topic to scare anyone. I mean, I don’t even pick the topics—there’s a whole timetable, and, well.. some of your parents are freaking out about you.” His mouth twists like he shouldn’t have said that. “Anyway—that’s not the point. What I mean is..” 

He straightens up, trying again. “If you don’t want to wait, that’s your choice. I’m not here to judge anybody—it wouldn’t be fair. And honestly? I think there are ways to have sex that can honour your body, you know? Staying safe, using protection, getting tested. Being clear about consent, setting boundaries, being open with your partner.” 

Mark’s words hang in the air, oddly light, completely unexpected—quieting the uncertainty in Jake’s head for the first time in weeks. Sex as an act of honour to the body. Not negative, nor neutral, but.. positive. That this idea could exist at all, never mind be voiced in church of all places, seems so absurd that he looks around the circle to see if anyone else is as surprised as him—but they aren’t. 

“It’s about making choices that protect you — emotionally and physically — while respecting whoever you’re with.” Into the silence that follows, Mark clasps his hands together. “How about we wrap things up here, and go home early, huh?” More silence. “Great. Okay. Does anyone have any prayer requests? Anything they want to thank God for?” 

It takes a while, but mentions of sudden illness and new jobs go in one of Jake’s ears and out the other as Mark prepares to say the closing prayer, and Jake hardly realises everyone’s standing up and moving their seats until you nudge him. 

“You okay?” 

Clearing his throat, Jake nods, stacking your chair on top of his and adding them to pile in the corner of the room. He introduces you as his friend to a seemingly unending carousel of the nosey people he grew up around. Of course, you already know Sunghoon, and Chaewon is extremely pleasant when she realises you’re not vying for his attention. 

In his car, you tell Jake about the records you found—loads of folk stuff, first-press hip-hop LPs from the mid-’90s, obscure bootlegs people had brought in going for dirt cheap. You didn’t get anything, but it was a great trip. Heeseung got this insane home-pressing of songs by Laufey and the Black Eyed Peas for the girl he’s seeing. When Jake parks the car, you show him the picture you took of the jacket—a poorly Photoshopped monstrosity of the Monkey Business cover with Laufey’s face over all the members. 

“We’ll have to go together when you have time.” You shake your head, laughing. “Oh, and thanks for letting me crash—it can’t have been easy having the Whore of Babylon sitting next to you, but I had fun tonight. It was funny.”

“Funny?” Jake repeats. 

“Yeah.” You shrug. “I don’t know, it just seemed like Mark was trying to be nice about the whole.. premarital sex is damning thing.” 

The thought doesn’t even make him cringe. No pit in his stomach. Steady heartbeat. Is he.. cured? 

Jake hums. “He was, wasn’t he?” A mumble, spoken more to himself. 

“Don’t you find that phrase sort of funny? Premarital sex—as opposed to the pure and moral matrimonial sex.” You laugh, head falling back against the headrest. “I’m not trying to be rude about it or anything, I just find it amusing.”

Shaking his head, Jake smiles. “No, I know.” A beat. “I think I do too.” He means it. 

You reach for your seatbelt, pressing the button and taking it off. Jake does the same, hesitating before reaching for the door handle. “Are you free next weekend?” he asks, chewing on his lip.

“Yeah, how come?” 

“I’m going fishing with my dad, and he was wondering if you’d want to join us.” 

“Your dad was wondering, but..” You trail off, looking out over his shoulder, like you’re checking for pedestrians or anyone else who might behold your Jake-related vulnerability. “Do you want me there?” 

“You know I do.” 

Turning your body to face him, you lean against the door. “Mm.” A sage nod. “But I want you to tell me.” 

“You mean a lot to me, so it would mean a lot if you came with us.” Jake takes your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I really want you there.” 

At this, your gaze falls to your linked hands, fingers intertwined in your lap. Holding his breath, he waits for your response, half-expecting you to brush him off, roll your eyes. Traffic flows outside, heavy, Jake thinks, for this time on a Wednesday evening. More quiet—too many clumsy beats passing to count. 

Finally, your eyes find his, a smile on your lips, voice soft under the hum of cars passing in the street. “You mean a lot to me too.”

The lake house—his dad’s childhood home. Unchanged. Perfect. Dark wood floors that bear the scuffs of time—some from Jake’s own football boots as a child, others older, carved by lives before his. Faint scent of saltwater and old books with cracked spines. Frozen in time, but not untouched. 

Three months have passed already since Christmas, the last time he and his parents were here. No gifts, no tree, just shit films and quality time. But the lake house always strikes him anew. The fleeting nature of this solid structure, this sanctuary where his father had been a boy. Eight-year-old handprints immortalised in the patio concrete, height marked on the living room doorway. The boy in the photos that Jake will never meet, though looks exactly like—his broad-nosed, full-lipped father.

Your voice is sudden over his shoulder. “Whoa.” Jake almost flinches despite its softness. He can’t believe you’re here. 

“Yeah,” he utters, finally looking at you. 

Jake has never dared to imagine you here, worried it wouldn’t ever live up to the real thing. And he was right. His heart stutters like a skipped stone. In your winter coat, chin hiding under your fluffy scarf, hair frizzed on the left side from where you’d slept against it in the car. The spread of the trees, vastness of the lake peeking through them, all framed by the open door behind you like something from a postcard.

Jake carries your bags upstairs, and you follow, getting a tour. The master bedroom is the last stop—queen-sized bed, en-suite bathroom, a space meant for two. You’ll be sharing it for the night—news that would mortify his mother if she found out. A thought that, only in theory, delights Jake. 

In the kitchen, you prep ingredients for dinner while discussing Gatsby—his dad’s favourite. Materialism. Affluence. The American Dream. The excitement is mutual. You, eager to pick his brain. His dad, grateful for an audience more responsive than his students. Jake listens in silence, peeling carrots—heart warmed by the ease with which you converse. Comfortable, unmarred by years apart. 

“Gatsby could’ve had anything he wanted in the world—but he never got to have Daisy,” his dad says, checking the fridge. 

You hum in response, a soft sound of disagreement. “He had Daisy in some ways, I suppose,” you offer, sounding hopeful, seeking approval, Jake thinks.

“I think that might be more tragic than if he’d never had her at all.” 

In the corner of his eye, Jake sees you tilting your head, brows furrowed. His dad laughs, not mean-spirited, no, an endeared sound he remembers from childhood—too scared to get back on his bike after his first fall; first wobbly tooth wrenched from his mouth by his own hand. 

“A taste doesn’t make a meal, sweetheart—it just leaves you hungry,” he says after a moment. 

In the same split second that Jake looks up at you, your eyes flick over to his. He can’t be hungry forever, surely not, that would just be cruel. His stomach curls in on itself at the thought. For a single, fully indulgent second, he lets himself believe that you might be hungry for him too. 

“Jesus, kid,” his dad says suddenly, gripping Jake’s wrist and dragging him towards the sink. “You’re bleeding.” 

Surprised, Jake blinks down at his hand, vivid red spilling from his index finger down the drain—carrot still half-peeled and bloodied.

“Fuck, Jaeyun,” his dad goes on. “That could’ve been really nasty. Are you alright?”

Jake only nods, distantly hearing his dad tell you where to find the first aid kit. Your footsteps disappear upstairs. Quickly, the stinging behind his eyelids turns into a pathetic flow of tears, his shoulders wracking as his dad wraps an arm around him. A kiss to the top of his head. “You’re alright, kid. Everything’s going to be alright.”

He doesn’t want to be hungry anymore. 

All thanks to Jake’s little episode, the two of you are banished from the kitchen, and decide to take a walk. His feet lead you toward the dock, and you light up—jogging ahead, eager to reach the water. Standing at the edge, swaying, wind whipping your hair around your head. Leaning forward, you point out a green shed in the distance. A smile in your voice. “East Egg,” you say happily. 

Jake remembers enough from the film to at least understand this reference, smiling too. “Alright, Mr Gatsby.” He wraps a protective arm around your waist, pulling you back. “That’s enough, baby, you’ll fall in.” 

You laugh, turning in his hold. He’s hooked on your lips, their shape, how they part to form your words. “I do say, Old Sport.” You start. “You’re looking rather flushed.” 

Air flees from his lungs, stolen. You — his Daisy — wrapped up in his arms, palms flat on his chest. Everything he wants, but can’t have. Tragic maybe. But wasn’t Gatsby brave, at least, to want in spite of what was feasible? Isn’t Jake? He shakes his head slightly, clearing the thought—you are not Daisy, nor is he Gatsby. There need not be tragedy here. 

For a second too long, your gaze lingers on his lips—you’re waiting for a kiss that you won’t initiate. Everything about this moment feels primed for it. Alone on the water, the steady crash of lake against rock, virtually no space between you. But he’s stuck. Unmoving. The wind stings his ears. You shiver, teeth chattering before you press your lips together. Jake can feel the window shutting, but still, he does nothing. 

Clearing your throat, you blink up at him. “Let’s head back, Jakey. We’ll freeze to death out here.” 

Jake opens his mouth. Falters. Then, softer than he means to, he asks, “Will you kiss me?” The words startle him, borrowed from you and that night—almost two months ago now. 

You nod, smiling. No hesitation, no second-guessing. Just the curl of your fingers around his jacket, the tipping of your chin. The steady, certain, press of your lips on his. Relief crashes into him, unfurling the tension in his chest. Warmth, soft and overwhelming all at once, sinking into his skin.

By the time you get back from the dock, dinner is almost ready—late lunch, really. Budae jjigae curling through the air, filling the house completely. The three of you eat together at the table, conversation weaving in and out between bites. Jake eats like it’s his first meal in ages, tearing into the steaming jjigae like it might disappear.

Full to the point of fatigue, he washes the dishes and sinks into the couch, head resting against the cushions, limbs loose and heavy with contentment. He twists the cuff of your sleeve between his fingers when you cuddle into his side, nursing a glass of water. In the armchair, as always, is his dad, book open in his lap, though he’s hardly reading. You keep pulling him into conversation, peppering him with questions about lecturing you must have been holding onto for years. 

Eventually, the wind settles, and armed with fishing rods, and bait his dad picked up on the drive over, the three of you make your way back to the dock. Empty-handed, you run off ahead, giddy laughter, and a called out, come on, over your shoulder.

“She hasn’t changed a bit,” his dad says fondly, gaze lingering on Jake. “You haven’t either.”

He gives him a curious look. “Is that a good thing?” 

A shrug, warmth in his dad’s eyes. “I think so.”

On the dock, Jake kneels by the tackle box, patient as ever as he shows you how to hook the bait, and hold the rod steady. His voice is quiet, calm, guiding your hands with his own until you get the hang of it. Following his instructions, you take it quickly, your cast smooth—a smile in his dad’s voice when he tells Jake you’re a natural. Pride swells in his chest as if the compliment was for him. Your line tugs almost immediately, breath catching in your throat as Jake scrambles over to you, an incredulous laugh from over his shoulder. 

“You’ve got one!” he calls out, more excited than you are. “Reel it in, you have to reel it in!” 

You fumble a little bit, but get it when you calm down. A flash of silver breaks the surface, water scattering in drops. Jake grins from ear to ear, like you’ve made the biggest catch of the season. Or at least caught something slightly more inspiring than a fifteen centimetre ssogari. 

His dad chuckles, clapping you on the back. “Wow, sweetheart. Great job!” he says, nodding affectionately. 

With some help, you hold up your catch, shaking with excitement — fear, maybe — while Jake snaps a photo, capturing the moment and sharing it with Sunghoon. 

Jake: Baby’s first catch 😭😭😭😭😭

Hoon: So cute, no way !!! Where’s yours? 

Hoon: Bring me next time I miss your hot dad :( 

Jake furrows his brows, locks his phone without replying, and turns back to you. 

“Are we going to cook it?” you ask, curiosity piqued. 

“Uh, no.” He shakes his head, laughing softly. “We just look at them for a bit and then put them back.”

It’s a busy day in the water apparently, for you and Jake’s dad at least. Jake, for all his enthusiasm, catches nothing—the fish did not choose him this weekend. Eventually, as the sun starts to dip, you all pack up, leaving the water behind in exchange for something warmer. 

In the garden, the night settles over you, thick with cold as the fire pit does what it can to fight off the chill. Flames flicker, snapping into the quiet, soundtracking your laughter and stories, the smell of smoke curling around you. In the seat beside Jake, your arms are wrapped around his, your head resting on his shoulder. His dad across the fire, its glow catching in the lines of his face, softening them and showing off his fond smile. 

Eventually, Jake’s dad rises, brushing off his hands with a yawn. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of Jake’s head, and one to yours. A quiet goodnight, familiar, unhurried. In the doorway, he pauses, pointing a finger at his son. “Make sure the fire’s all the way out before you go to bed, okay?” 

Nodding, Jake wishes him a goodnight again. Through the glass door, his dad moves through the kitchen, checking the sockets before flicking the light off, and disappearing down the hall. Resting his head on top of yours, he exhales. “You want another drink?” 

“No, thank you.” You lift your half-full can, cider sloshing noisily. “I’m good, baby.” 

Jake gets up, stretching his arms and legs before heading into the house, enveloped by the quiet of the kitchen. Pulling open the fridge, harsh light spills across the tiles as he reaches for a beer. Cold beads of condensation slip against his fingers, a relief as he lifts it, presses it to his cheeks to quell the heat blooming there. Baby. He giggles. Will he ever get used to that? 

Opening his can, he sits back down and kisses your temple. A sip of beer warms his insides, he looks at you and smiles. “Did you have fun today?”

You nod eagerly, then seem to think better of it. Tilting your head. Pursing your lips. “I’m a little disappointed though.” 

“Oh, yeah?” He arches his brow, leaning back in his seat. “How so?” 

Your lips twitch. “It’s stupid but I guess I had it in my head that you were like—I don’t know, actually good at fishing, or something. But wow, Jakey.. You suck.” 

“Ever heard of beginner’s luck?” he says, rolling his eyes, too endeared by you and the grin on your lips to bite back. “You’re lucky I like you too much to take that personally.” 

A suggestive lift of your brow, a smug smile. “Oh, so you like me, huh?” 

Briefly, Jake entertains the thought of telling you — finally fucking telling you — that he like-likes you. It seems simple enough, only three words. Four technically if he says ‘like-like’ out loud the way a child might. He watches you, searching—do you already know? And if you don’t, and he tells you, will anything change? 

Firelight flickers over your face. Jake shrugs. “Yeah, quite a lot, actually.”

Chuckling, you bring your cider to your lips and take a long, slow sip. Over the edge of the illustrated can, you eye him. Gaze steady. Unnerving. Like you’re in on something he’s not. 

You shrug. 

Reaching out, his fingers curl around your wrist, gently lowering the can. His lips find yours, soft, insistent. Pineapple and raspberry, artificial and sweet, from your tongue onto his. He hums against your mouth, a quiet, come here, before pulling you in, guiding you into his lap. You straddle him easily, arms draped over his shoulders. The kiss deepens, slow at first, then desperate as heat pools in his stomach. 

Hands mapping skin through your layers, fingertips pressing, still curious, eager after so long. Your chests rise and fall in sync when you pull away, trembling breath clouding together in the cool air. Blinking down at him, an expression he can’t read takes over your face. “You really like me?” you whisper. Your question clarifies the look on your face—expectant, waiting for an answer he’s scared to give. 

As he sees it, there are only two ways for this to go—worst case: you laugh, cackle, call him insane for thinking he has a chance with you; best case: his confession doesn’t repulse you. Clearing his throat, he tries to calm the storm in his chest. “I do,” he says after too long, startling himself with his volume. 

You don’t take off running for the hills, which he can only assume is a good thing. Instead, you smile. Cradling his face in your hands and kissing him. Then, movement. Slow shift of your hips back and forth against his—maddening. Press of chest to chest, hushed moans shared between you. A kind of tender desire that turns the cold night sweltering. 

After too long, dazed and sleepy — fire extinguished — the two of you giggle, hand in hand, all the way upstairs. Brushing your teeth together in the en-suite, letting peppermint kisses turn warm and lazy as you pull Jake into the shower with you. 

He pinkens in the heat, warm water slipping over your bodies in rivulets. Skin sliding over skin, pressed together. Steam curls, fogging the glass. Hands on your cheeks, holding your face to his—lips locked. Slow, lazy, taking his time. Trying his best to make the morning last forever like this. Kissing. Smiling. Your fingers card through his hair, tugging the wet strands, pulling groans from his mouth into yours. 

Breathless, he pulls away, tucking his head against your neck. His arms fall around your waist, keeping you close. Noses along the sensitive skin there, inhaling your shower gel—syrupy sweet, so painfully you. He presses his lips together to keep from saying something stupid. Your touch is delicate, tender, on the back of his head, fingers curling around the overgrown locks at the nape of his neck. 

It’s unfair to be going home so soon, the shortest trip of his life. Behind closed eyes, Jake can’t help picturing weeks here in the summer with you. Long days spent swimming in the lake. Short nights spent cuddling despite the heat. Sunscreen on hot skin. Aloe vera on burns. Tan lines and salt air. Summer. He’d be your boyfriend by then, right? 

“I don’t want to go home,” you whisper.

He kisses your damp skin. “Just say the word and I’ll bring you back, baby.” His voice is low, muffled into the base of your neck. “In the summer, maybe? We can stay for ages if you want.” 

Saying it out loud, this partial voicing of his thoughts for you to hear, summer feels much bigger than just a word, a season. Much bigger than anything he can imagine. An almost confession. A promise to you. To himself. He clears his throat, feeling exposed. 

Your eyes are wide when he looks at you again, cupping his face in your palm, thumb stroking his cheek. You lean up, pressing your swollen lips to his. “Summer,” you repeat, smiling.

Jake doesn’t sleep, he’s not sure if he could if he tried. He’s laying there, flat on his back, your head warm and sleepy on his chest. His fingers move absently through your hair, slow and repetitive, more for him than for you. Your breathing is steady, relaxing him. A thought comes to mind—the sunrise. He shifts carefully, not wanting to wake you yet as he reaches for his phone. 05:47. Smoothing his palm over your shoulder, he whispers your name. You only hum in response, stirring. 

“Come on,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I want to show you something.” 

“The sun isn’t even up yet,” you grumble into his skin, eyes still shut. 

“That’s the point.” His voice is gentle but insistent. Leaning in, he presses his lips to your temple. “It’ll be worth it, baby.”

You groan, rolling away from him, face in the pillow. “Fine.” And as if in protest of the early morning, you don’t say much else. You do let him help you into your jacket though, smiling as he zips it up and kisses your forehead. 

Hand in hand, the two of you trudge slowly along the trail, footsteps soft in the grass. Saltwater and pine fill the air, seeming stronger in the waning dark. Finally, through the trees, the lake unfolds, a glassy mirror of the brightening sky above, day’s first light stretched thin over the horizon.  

When you reach the rocks, you whisper, “Whoa.” Taking a seat next to Jake, pulling your knees to your chest and leaning into him when he wraps his arm around your shoulders. 

The sky splits open above your heads, dawn unfurling in soft brushstrokes of pink and orange. A dreamlike shimmer in the water—silken ripples of gold rolling towards the shore, crashing against the dock. The hues grow deeper and more vibrant, shifting quickly before his eyes. For years, this sunrise has been his favourite view. But now, with you sitting in it, soft and golden, hair ruffled from sleep and the wind? Fuck—he couldn’t think of anything better if he tried. 

Whispering, he asks, “Worth it?” 

You turn to him, eyes soft, smiling. “Very.” You let a long beat of silence pass before asking. “How many hookups have you brought here, Jakey?” Your voice is soft, a little more than curious. 

Breathless, Jake laughs, suddenly nervous as if there’s a right and a wrong answer. “Hookups aren’t really my thing,” he admits, shaking his head. “So, zero.” 

Your brow lifts, sceptical, but you don’t press. Not immediately, anyway. You even let Jake turn back to the water, following his gaze when he nods towards the horizon, and mumbles, look. You let the colour bloom for so long he thinks you’ve dropped it. 

You haven’t. “Are you lying to me?” you ask quietly. 

“You of all people should know I wouldn’t even kiss someone, never mind hookup with them, if I wasn’t losing my mind over them.” The words slip out before he can stop them, before he can think better of it. If you’re overthinking what he said, you don’t show it. 

He doesn’t have anything more to say, so he doesn’t say anything at all. But in his peripheral, you’re still watching him. There’s something in your eyes he can’t decipher. At least not correctly. It reads love. It reads you want him how he wants you, and it’s disarming. 

A while passes before Jake is ready to speak, his voice coming out softer than he means for it to. “What’s up?” 

“It’s—” You cut yourself off, looking around. Amused, hesitant somehow, as you laugh—soft, and content, and nervous, he thinks. “Your dad thinks we’re together, you know,” you tell him eventually. 

Jake puts a lot of effort into keeping his eyes from rolling, knowing exactly what his dad is up to. The prospect of his dad acting as a wingman is both relieving and mortifying. He arches his brow. “Together how?”

You sniff, eyes on his. “He thinks you’re my boyfriend, and I didn’t correct him.” 

For a second, he forgets how to breathe, heart hammering against his ribs. Brain scrambling to catch up with you and what you just said about not correcting him. A thousand questions threaten to spill out at once, but none of them make it past his lips. Why not? Do you want that? Do you want me? It would be easier, he’s sure, to say nothing and kiss you instead. But your eyes are still on his, steady, not giving anything away, and he has to ask, voice low, cautious. “Are you going to correct him?”

“Do I need to?” You sound so calm, so relaxed about it all that Jake’s skin heats under your gaze. 

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” 

“Then no,” you say, smiling—small but certain, like you’ve made up your mind. Like you made up your mind long before this conversation. Your hand finds his cheek, thumb tracing his jaw. “I’m not going to correct him.” 

And before he can reply, your lips are on his. Soft. Gentle. Everything he wants for the rest of his life.

By the time you make it back — boyfriend and girlfriend, hand in hand — Jake’s dad is sitting on the couch, curled around a cup of coffee and his book. He’s smiling, eyes gleaming as he makes a joke, something about the love bird catching the worm, and Jake is too happy to do anything but grin from ear to ear as you hide your face in his chest. 

Upstairs, you share the shower, eager hands tracing dips and curves innocently until you leave with pruned fingers. Skincare, then moisturiser, then clothes. Stolen kisses whenever he has the chance. Jake’s dad is flipping pancakes at the stove when you get to the kitchen, forbidden bacon crackling beside him. Despite his best efforts, morning slips into afternoon with no regard for what he wants. Breakfast is eaten. Bags are packed. Your lips have been sufficiently kissed. It’s time to leave already. 

The drive is fine, uneventful mostly, until his dad pulls into a rest stop. “Alright, everybody out. Stretch your legs, use the toilet if you need,” he says, cutting the engine. 

You rush out of the car, yelling, one minute, over your shoulder as you run towards the building. Standing by the passenger door, Jake stretches his arms above his head, exhaling long and slow. Over the car’s roof, his dad clears his throat. “I’m sorry I haven’t done more for you—about your mum.” He hesitates, then says, quieter, “I love you, son. We both love you so much. I’m on your side, okay? You’re my only son, Jaeyun.” 

Jake’s arms drop. He feels silly for having them up at all. Overwhelmed, he nods once, sniffing. “I love you, Dad.” 

Smiling, his dad gets back into the car and Jake follows. Hardly a moment passes before he sees you through the windscreen, running back, so beautiful and all his—finally, actually his. Your eyes are sparkling when you open the door. 

“They had these awesome keychains at the gift shop—look, Mr. Sim, it’s an angler!” You thrust the plush fish toward him, grinning like you caught it with your bare hands. 

A chuckle, hand squishing it. Jake’s dad ruffles your hair, a gesture so familiar, so lived in, that Jake can’t shake the feeling that he’s dreaming. The fondness in his dad’s smile is overwhelming. “That’s great, sweetheart. I love it,” he says, voice thick with pride—again, like you caught the fish with your bare hands. 

“It’s yours.”

“Oh, I can’t accept this.”

“Mr. Sim, it’s a keychain that cost me a pound, not real estate.” You hesitate, then add, quieter, “I actually got one for all of us. My father never took me on any kind of trip, so..” 

At the mention of your father, Jake’s jaw tightens. His fist clenches in his lap, memories pressing in—too many nights spent comforting you over the phone, or sneaking out to do it in person. A quiet beat passes, stretched taut and straining at the edges, your words lingering, heavier than you probably meant them to be. Closing his fingers around the keychain, his dad clears his throat before he speaks, firm and sincere. “The three of us can go wherever you want, alright?” 

You don’t say anything, but your nod is enough. And with a small smile at Jake, you hand him a matching angler, fingers brushing his. He can’t resist bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

From the driver’s seat, a quiet exhale. “Now’s as good a time as any I suppose.” Jake’s dad reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out two keys. “Got these cut this morning. It’s ours, kid. Use it whenever you like.” 

Jake feels the cool metal against his skin. Turning it over in his hand as his dad presses the second key into your palm. He can’t look away from it, silver catching the light. No big speech, no song and dance—just his dad extending a promise, sharing this part of him with Jake, and with you. The weight of his uncertainty melts away. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he glances at you, lips twitching up. Safe and familiar, solid and long lasting—the lake house. Yours. His. Ours. A future that doesn’t feel quite so far, or so unattainable anymore.  

EPILOGUE

The lake house. Summer, finally. You’re sitting on the countertop while Jake makes breakfast—a view that has quickly become your favourite.

He reaches up into the cabinet, newly formed muscle shifting under tan skin. Shoulders solid and broad, the visual representation of all the strength he’s been using on you—picking you up and tossing you around like it’s nothing. His hair is still messy from bed, longer than ever and curling around his ears. Plaid pyjama pants sitting low, showing off the love bites staining his hips in pretty blooms of red and purple. 

Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair. “I know how to scramble an egg,” he says, so long after your comment, you’d forgotten you said anything at all. His voice is low, thick with sleep even though you’ve been up for a while now—he’s definitely playing it up, but you like it too much to complain. 

“I know you do, Jakey. I just—” 

He interrupts you with a kiss, faint peppermint clinging to his lips as he mumbles, “I want to cook for you. Will you let me do that, darling? Please?”

Darling. Your heart does a flip, abrupt and ungraceful. “Fine,” you concede, twirling his hair with your fingers. “But I’m making dinner.”

Jake groans, resting his forehead on your shoulder. “Right, because I’m an idiot sandwich, and you’re Little Miss Gordon Ramsay.” 

“Mm.” You smile. “Exactly.”  

Nodding, he tips his chin up towards yours until your lips brush. “Yes, Chef,” he says, and it makes you laugh too much to keep on kissing him. But he tries anyway, teeth bumping as you share giggles. Eventually, he gives up, pressing his forehead to yours, hand on your waist. “Going to miss having this place to ourselves.”

You can’t even remember the last time you spent so long away from Jimin, and as much as you’re looking forward to seeing her — and Sunghoon — again, you’d be lying if you said you won’t miss being alone too, and the freedom of walking around the house in varying degrees of undress. A soft smile pulls at your lips. “It’s only one weekend, baby—Hoon has his placement to get back to,” you say, a voice of reason even though you feel the same. 

Two weeks. Two whole perfect weeks with Jake—entire days spent out by the lake. Swimming or reading Emily Henry while he tries to fish. Big hands smoothing sunscreen over your back, plump lips pressing kisses to your tan lines. The press of solid muscle on soft flesh, sweat-slicked skin on sweat-slicked skin. 

Jake’s lips curl into a grin, wide, boyish. So handsome—unbelievably so. “A lot can happen in one weekend.” 

Unfortunately, he raises a good point, but you won’t admit that for him to hear. A lot can happen in one weekend—it did. But it wasn’t the time frame, it was the lake. You’ve deduced it has magical properties. An ability to make days slip into each other, to draw large feelings out before you can properly think them through. Yesterday, while Jake tied your bikini back up — deft fingers slick with the sunscreen he’d just rubbed on your back — you told him that you want this, with him, for the rest of your life. The words tumbled out of you, tugged from your brain by the lake. And so, like any mature twenty-year-old girl would, you promptly rolled off of the dock and into the water, refusing to emerge until it hurt to hold your breath. Jake only smiled when you came back up seconds later, pushed your hair from your face and kissed you. Told you that he wanted it too. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, big brown eyes staring deep into yours. 

“My boyfriend.” It’s a word that still makes your stomach flutter, that hasn’t lost its novelty even after three months. 

“Your boyfriend,” Jake repeats, nodding along. “Mm, handsome guy, I’ve heard. He’s super lucky.” 

Heat floods your cheeks, and you can’t help but look away, biting back a smile. “Easily distracted too,” you point out. “He’s burning my breakfast.”

With wide eyes, he glances over his shoulder, a horrified look on his face. “Fuck,” he mutters, turning back to you. He doesn’t move though, only leaning in to kiss you again. His soft lips on yours, unhurried, like he’s got all the time in the world. 

Admittedly, you’d let him kiss you like this forever if it weren’t for the smell of burnt egg — and burgeoning fire hazard — drifting between you. You pull away, shoving his shoulder with a laugh. “Go, Jake.” 

“They’re already burnt.” He shrugs, unconcerned, as a lopsided grin spreads over his lips. “I’ll eat them.” With that, he returns to the stove, turning off the burner and flipping the charred eggs onto a plate.

Outside, you sit at the wooden table Jake built when you first arrived. You’d made an offhand comment, said it might be nice to have breakfast out on the deck, and he went off in search of scrap wood. He was successful, putting together a neat little table for the two of you to eat at—your initials and his etched into the grain, housed in a wonky love heart that gives you butterflies every time you see it. The sun warms your shoulders through one of his t-shirts, your legs crossed in your seat, and his palm heavy on your knee. You can’t look away from him. You don’t want to. There’s something about Jake, this way. The patch of raw skin on the bridge of his nose, scattered freckles dusting the centre of his face, faint band of pale skin where his sunglasses have been living recently. Jake. Your Jake. Leaning in, you press a kiss to his soft lips—your local heaven. 

© zreamy (2025), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let me know your thoughts !

extra note: happy zreamy blog birth omgggg my first fic nothing to lose came out two years ago today (apr 3 2023) and i can finally say i've written at least one fic for each member 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ thank u sm to everyone for being so lovely, it means a lot !!! all my love, zo xoxo

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[straykeedz-recs]

[21 Questions]

...or the one where your hot one-night stand gets trapped inside with you during a storm.

Notes: Romantic comedy brainrot meets “what if your one-night stand accidentally had boyfriend energy” vibes but dirty, I guess? Pretty much porn that pretends to have a plot. Bang Chan x Reader Content Warnings: AFAB reader, explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, face riding, dry humping, dirty talk, question-based escalation, creampie. [8.1k words]

The rain is already loud when you wake up, but it’s the thunder that makes you sit up too fast—your body protesting with a dull ache and a rush of confusion and for a moment, you forget where you are, blinking against the soft light that filters through pale curtains stirred by wind. Then you remember the man lying next to you. The one with the tousled brown hair and the silver chain still clinging to his throat, half-buried beneath the white sheet he’d stolen most of in the night. Chris. His name floats up through the haze of sleep and lingering heat and half-faded memory, the syllables settling heavy in your chest and you’d meant for last night to be a clean break, something fleeting, something fun—but now it’s morning and the world outside is a mess of lightning and rising water and all exits, apparently, are blocked.

You shift carefully, pulling the sheet with you like it might shield you from the awkwardness of waking up next to someone you barely know, but Chris doesn’t look awkward at all. He looks like he belongs there, face still soft with sleep, lips parted just slightly like he’s caught in a dream he doesn’t want to leave, his hair is a disaster and his arm is slung over your pillow like he’d meant to hold you and missed. And maybe you’re still drunk on the way he’d touched you last night—like he already knew how you wanted to be handled, like he’d been reading your mind with every slow drag of his mouth over your skin, but now the tension is different, the air is heavy with the storm and something else you can’t quite name. Something not-so-temporary.

Chris groans softly when the thunder cracks again, brow creasing as he stretches, and you get a front row seat to the slow reveal of muscle and skin and that faint trail of ink on his ribs. He blinks up at you, eyes half-lidded and pretty brown in the gray light. What time is it? he asks, rough and warm and entirely too familiar for someone you just met. You shrug, reaching for your phone with fingers that are still trembling a little, not from fear, just the residual adrenaline of being alone in a house with a man who kissed you like he could rewrite your whole damn story if you let him. Does it matter? you murmur, holding up the screen. Storm’s not letting up. Roads are flooded. There’s a beat of silence, then Chris hums like it’s not the worst news he’s ever heard. Guess I’m staying for breakfast.

And it should be awkward, it should be that fumbling, clothes-on-backwards, this was fun kind of goodbye you’d practiced in your head but instead, Chris rolls out of bed like it’s his own room, scratching the back of his neck and scanning the floor for his shirt with a sleepy smirk. You got anything edible? Or are we on a strictly coffee-and-regret diet this morning? he asks, and you laugh, the sound surprising even you. There’s eggs. Maybe toast if the bread survived the humidity. You’re already pulling on one of your old t-shirts—something oversized and faded and absolutely not cute, but Chris gives you this once-over that makes you feel like you’re in silk as he follows you into the kitchen barefoot, steps quiet, and there’s still a weight to him that makes the room feel fuller somehow, like his presence bends the space around him just a little.

You move around each other clumsily at first, two strangers pretending you haven’t already seen each other naked, but it settles quickly into something easy, comfortable. You hand him a pan without thinking, and he flips it in one hand like he’s done this a hundred times. So what do you do, he asks, cracking eggs like a professional, when you’re not picking up mysterious men at bars and rescuing them from natural disasters? You shoot him a look over your shoulder, but your smile betrays you. I’m an illustrator, you admit. Freelance. Mostly book covers and concept stuff. He raises a brow, looking impressed. That explains the art on your walls. I thought you were just trying to seem deep. You bump your hip into his and he laughs—really laughs, head thrown back for a second, the sound warm enough to cut through the storm still howling outside.

Breakfast takes longer than it should, between the burnt toast and the failed attempt at pancakes and the way Chris keeps trying to juggle eggs when he thinks you’re not looking, the kitchen becomes a little world of its own—bright with laughter and low teasing and the kind of unspoken intimacy that feels like it’s been there longer than a single night. He sits at the table while you pour the coffee, fingers drumming on the wood like he can’t quite sit still. You know, he says, eyeing you over the rim of his mug, I was supposed to fly out today. Back to Seoul. Meetings, rehearsals. All that glamorous idol life crap. You glance out the window, as rain streaks down the glass in frantic patterns, wind battering the trees sideways. Storm says no, you offer, and he grins, like that’s exactly what he wanted to hear.

You end up on the couch, legs tangled under a shared blanket, the empty plates abandoned somewhere behind you. The power flickers once, twice, and then holds and at some point, Chris had ducked into the other room to make a quiet call—checking on someone, just to make sure they were safe in the storm. It shouldn’t have surprised you, but it still made something in your chest ache a little and now, as he shifts beside you, arm grazing yours, it’s quieter—the kind of quiet that feels like waiting, like choosing. He doesn’t push, doesn’t lean in, but when he looks at you it’s soft and curious and a little cautious, like he’s wondering what this could be if it wasn’t just a one-night stand and a thunderstorm, and you don’t know either. But you like the way he watches the lightning like it’s a show, the way he turns toward you with that slow smile that’s more promise than performance. You don’t know if the roads will be clear tomorrow, yu don’t know if this will last past the rain but for now, there’s warmth, and coffee, and a very content Chris beside you like he’s meant to stay.

He eats like someone who hasn’t had a real meal in days, half-sleepy and quietly appreciative, the kind of silence that says more than any compliment could. Every so often he hums, low and pleased, like even the mediocre toast is some kind of hidden delicacy. I think... he mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, this might be the best breakfast I’ve had all year. You glance at him, one brow raised. That’s a low bar. He shrugs, grinning around his coffee mug. Yeah, well, my standards are shot. I live off protein bars and takeout most days. He says it casually, like it’s a joke, but something in his eyes dims around the edges and you file that away somewhere quiet in your chest.

Then he sniffs at the mug and makes a face, setting it down with a quiet sigh. Full disclosure? I don’t even like coffee. You blink at him, mid-bite. Then why drink it? He shrugs, sheepish and a little guilty, like a kid caught faking his homework. Felt like the kind of morning where I should be holding something warm. Thought maybe it’d make me look normal. He hesitates, then adds, Tea’s not any better, by the way. Tastes like regret. You laugh and offer, There’s juice in the fridge, but he just shoots you a slow smile and leans back in his chair, eyes never leaving yours. Think I’ve had enough sweet stuff for one morning, and the line hangs there between you, light but deliberate, and when you arch a brow, he doesn’t take it back, just lifts his mug again like he didn’t say anything at all, even though you’re both still smiling into the silence.

The wind picks up again, another sharp gust rattling the windows, and the lights flicker like they’re considering betraying you. You look over your shoulder, half-expecting a blackout, but they steady as Chris catches your gaze, leaning forward on his elbows, bare forearms braced against the table. Scared? he teases, but it’s soft, more curious than mocking. Of the storm? you ask, tipping your head. Not really. I like it. Makes everything feel... slower. Like the world’s taking a breath. Chris watches you for a long moment, something thoughtful in the way his eyes trace over your face like he’s committing it to memory. That’s a nice way to put it, he murmurs. I think I forget how to slow down.

You end up back on the couch with two mugs of reheated coffee and a blanket that still smells faintly like clean laundry and the detergent your mom insists on mailing you in bulk as he lets you pick the movie, something old and a little ridiculous, more comfort than content, and by the time the opening credits roll, he’s already slid a little closer, his thigh pressed lightly against yours beneath the blanket. I haven’t watched a movie on an actual home couch in months, he admits, almost sheepish. Hotel beds don’t count. Too sterile, always feels like I’m trespassing. You look at him, really look, and for all the easy smiles and casual confidence, there’s something in the way he curls slightly inward, like he’s still waiting to be asked to leave.

So… what’s it like? you ask, tilting your head against the back cushion. Being you. Idol life. Cameras. Fans. Endless protein bars. He laughs, but it’s quieter now. It’s loud, he says after a pause. Even when it’s quiet. There’s always something. A performance, a deadline, someone waiting for you to screw up so they can clip it and post it out of context. His voice is calm, but you feel the weight of it, heavy and real between you. Don’t get me wrong. I love it. Music saved me, still does. But sometimes it feels like I forget who I am when the lights go off.

You nudge his knee with yours. And who are you right now? He glances at you, then away, like he’s not used to being seen like this—barefoot on someone else’s couch, coffee he doesn't even pretent to drink anymore in hand, weathered by rain and time and the strange intimacy of survival. Right now? he echoes, a little surprised. I’m… just Chris. I think. His mouth twitches, like he’s almost amused by the sound of his own name out loud in that context. Not Bang Chan, not leader, not hyung. Just… a guy who ate eggs in someone’s kitchen. You nod like that’s enough. Like it means more than it should. Well, you say, lifting your mug in a mock toast, cheers to Just Chris.

He bumps his mug against yours, eyes warm with something that looks a lot like gratitude as the movie plays on in the background, half-forgotten, and you both settle into the kind of silence that isn’t awkward—it’s tentative, sure, but there’s an unspoken agreement not to break the spell just yet. His arm ends up behind you on the backrest, not quite touching, but close enough that you can feel the heat of him, the quiet hum of presence that anchors you in place and when your shoulders brush, neither of you pulls away.

You know, he says eventually, eyes still on the screen, I didn’t expect to like you this much. You blink, caught off guard by the blunt honesty. I mean, he adds quickly, the tips of his ears slighly pink, not that I thought I wouldn’t like you. But last night… it wasn’t supposed to turn into this. He gestures vaguely, encompassing the coffee, the couch, the storm still raging outside like a protective barrier between this moment and the rest of the world. It was just supposed to be one night. A good distraction. You swallow, unsure whether to laugh or let the weight of it settle. Yeah, you say. Me too.

But the way he’s looking at you now, like you’re not just a chapter break but maybe a plot twist—it makes something shift in your chest. Something dangerous and soft and utterly unplanned. So what happens, you ask quietly, if the storm doesn’t let up? He smirks, eyes flicking toward the window before turning back to you. Guess we'll keep distracting each other, he says, and his hand finally brushes yours beneath the blanket, fingers curling slightly like a question, and you don’t hesitate when you answer. You let him.

The movie drifts on in the background—some half-forgotten rom-com playing at half volume, all overly dramatic meet-cutes and orchestral swells that feel far too on-the-nose given the weight in the air, and the storm hasn’t eased. If anything, the wind howls louder now, rattling through the eaves of the house like it’s trying to crawl inside, but you’re warm, not just because of the blanket or the coffee or the body beside you—but because something is building. Slowly, unspoken, the kind of tension that hums under the skin like an electrical current, soft but insistent, curling into the spaces between breath and glance and word.

Chris shifts beside you, his arm still draped casually along the back of the couch, but you can feel the subtle change in his posture, how he’s turned slightly more toward you, how his knee now presses firmly into yours instead of just brushing. His fingers are close enough to yours that you can feel the heat from them, the faint tremble of restraint in the way he hasn’t closed that last inch of distance as you risk a glance, and he’s already watching you—not smiling, not teasing, just looking, slow and steady, like he’s memorizing again. Like he’s debating something he already knows the answer to.

You’re kind of hard to read, you know that? you murmur, letting your voice drop just a little, the edge of a smile curling at your lips. His brow lifts, intrigued. Yeah? Most people say I’m too easy to read. His voice is quieter now too, dipping into something husky, a little rough. Too open. You tilt your head, feigning thought. No… you give people just enough to make them think they’ve got you figured out. You feel bold now, watching his expression shift—curious, then interested, then something more primal flickering just under the surface. But there’s always something you’re holding back.

He leans in a fraction, close enough that you can feel his breath ghost across your cheek, and when he speaks again it’s low and deliberate. What do you think I’m holding back? And you want to be coy, want to toss back some flirty quip and pretend like your heart isn’t beating faster with every syllable that falls from his mouth—but the air between you is too heavy now, charged with something that feels inevitable as you shift to face him more fully, knees drawn up beneath the blanket, and he mirrors you, his hand finally brushing yours beneath the fabric—just a soft drag of knuckles, but it’s enough to send a little shock up your spine.

I think you want to touch me again, you whisper, the words slipping out before you can think better of them. But you’re trying to be good. Chris huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no humor in it—just tension, tightly wound and dangerously close to snapping. Yeah, he says, voice rougher now, throat working as he swallows. I’ve been trying real hard not to. And that admission, that little crack in his carefully controlled exterior, does something to you. You shift closer, just slightly, enough that your knees press between his, enough that the blanket slips a little off your shoulder and his eyes follow the movement like he’s been starving.

But you’re not that good, are you? you tease, soft and breathy, like you’re testing the line just to see if he’ll cross it. And then his hand is on your thigh beneath the blanket—slow and deliberate, fingers curling against bare skin where your oversized t-shirt rides up, he doesn’t rush, just drags his palm upward with agonizing patience, his eyes never leaving yours. Not even close, he says, and it’s more confession than warning. You shift into his touch, lips parting on a quiet breath, and the way he looks at you now it’s like the storm has moved inside the room, all pressure and heat and the dangerous thrill of surrender.

Still, he waits. That last sliver of distance remains, his lips close but not touching, his fingers warm but not daring yet, you can see it in his eyes—the way he’s giving you the choice, the way he’s already halfway gone if you want to meet him there and something about that restraint, that aching pause, makes your skin burn. Come here, you whisper, and that’s all it takes.

He kisses you like he’s been holding it back all morning, all night, maybe longer, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t do it now, he might never get to again, his hand slides up further, anchoring at your waist, pulling you into his lap with a fluid kind of urgency that still manages to feel careful. His lips are warm, a little chapped, but he moves like he knows exactly what you need, tongue teasing at the seam of your mouth until you let him in, until the taste of him floods your senses and you forget everything else. Your fingers curl into the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer, and he groans softly against your mouth, a sound that vibrates through your whole body.

The blanket falls away, and the storm outside rages louder but inside, the world narrows to the press of his body against yours, the slow grind of hips, the heat rising fast and thick between you like it’s trying to suffocate the space where words used to live. You don’t know where this is going, don’t know what happens after the rain. But you know how he kisses, you know the way his hand slides up the back of your shirt with reverence and hunger, how he breathes your name like a promise he hasn’t figured out how to keep yet. And right now, that’s enough.

His mouth breaks from yours with a reluctant drag, breath heavy against your cheek as his lips skim the edge of your jaw. The storm batters the world outside, wind clawing at the glass, but here, on this couch, wrapped in each other and the remnants of a morning that wasn't supposed to last, everything feels slow, thick with a new kind of tension. His hand has slipped beneath your shirt now, not urgent, but reverent, fingers tracing up your spine in slow, deliberate lines that make you shiver, thumb brushing the underside of your breast, just enough pressure to make your breath hitch, but he stops there, teasing, waiting.

You know… he murmurs against your neck, punctuating the words with a lazy kiss just below your ear, ...we barely know anything about each other. You huff a breath that could almost be a laugh, tipping your head back to give him more access. Funny time to bring that up. His teeth graze your throat, the gentlest bite, and he smirks when you gasp. Just trying to be a gentleman, he says, all faux innocence while his other hand slides up the inside of your thigh, thumb stroking slow circles where your skin is most sensitive. Maybe we should get to know each other first. You know, before we really do this.

You glance down at him, raising a brow even as your hips shift against his lap, finding the heat of him through thin layers of cotton. What, you want to play 20 Questions while you’ve got your hand up my shirt? His eyes glitter with mischief. Twenty-one. Gotta keep it spicy. You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips as you settle more fully against him, legs straddling his hips now, thighs bracketing his as the blanket slips off entirely. Fine, you say, voice a little breathless as his hands find their way to your waist, thumbs dragging slow along your ribs. But I go first. He leans back slightly, arms resting along the couch, a picture of casual sin. Hit me.

What’s your biggest red flag? you ask, grinning as you slowly grind down just enough to watch his expression falter and Chris groans, head tipping back briefly before he looks at you from beneath heavy lashes. You’re evil. You just shrug, hips rocking against him, slow and tempting. Answer the question.

He exhales a laugh that curls low in his chest, fingers tightening at your waist. Okay… red flag? His tongue flicks across his bottom lip as he thinks, and your eyes follow the motion helplessly. I work too much. Like… too much. I disappear into it sometimes. Not great for relationships. There’s honesty in it, even as he slides one hand back under your shirt, thumb grazing the curve of your breast again, still not touching you fully, just circling around it like he’s trying to drive you crazy. Your turn. You shift, barely resisting the urge to lean into his hand. Hmm… what’s your question?

Chris hums, considering. Biggest turn-on.

You tilt your head, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him twitch before you answer, Confidence. Teasing. Someone who can make me laugh and lose my mind. You roll your hips again, slow and purposeful, and he curses under his breath. Your turn, he growls, hands sliding lower now, gripping your ass as he pulls you tighter against him. Better make it a good one.

What do you think I taste like? you whisper it near his ear, just to watch him shudder. His hands still on your body, eyes snapping to yours, suddenly darker as he swallows hard, fingers digging in just a bit. You want the honest answer? he murmurs, voice low and dangerous. Obviously.

Chris leans in, lips brushing yours without kissing, like he’s tasting the air between you. Like trouble. Like something I shouldn’t get addicted to but already am. His hand drags back up your thigh, higher now, brushing between your legs over your underwear, just enough pressure to make you gasp, but still maddeningly light. Like heaven with a little hell in it.

You clench your hands in the fabric of his shirt, breath catching as he rocks up against you, heat meeting heat through frustrating layers. Fuck, you whisper, hips stuttering. That’s not fair. He smirks again. I said I was bad at being good. You dip your head to his neck, biting lightly at the skin just below his jaw as you murmur, Then stop pretending and show me just how bad you can be. But Chris just chuckles, fingers hooking under the waistband of your underwear before he stops again, teasing, waiting, torturing. Only if you answer the next one.

You groan. You’re the worst. He grins. Next question. What are you most afraid of right now?

And it’s unfair, how he can drop that kind of weight right when his fingers are slipping beneath your panties, how he can make you feel completely exposed even before he touches you properly as you blink, breathless, caught in the twist of sensation and honesty. Getting too close, you admit quietly. Wanting more than I should. He stills, his hand resting gently between your thighs now, no pressure, just presence as his gaze softens, searching your face like he’s looking for something hidden beneath all your teasing. Me too, he says. And then—finally, finally—his fingers move with purpose, and you stop thinking altogether.

His fingers move with an ease that makes you curse your own memory, like your body already remembers him, already trusts the rhythm, the pressure, the subtle curl of his touch. He’s slow with it, maddeningly so, dragging the pads of his fingers through your slick just to feel how wet you are before he even really does anything. Jesus, he murmurs, almost to himself, eyes dropping to where you’re straddled in his lap, shirt rumpled, underwear pushed aside, heat pressed tight to the bulge in his sweatpants. And you’re telling me we’re just getting to know each other? You roll your hips down against his hand and smirk. Exactly. I’m an open book, remember? But your voice catches at the end when one of his fingers slides inside you, slow, deliberate, his eyes locked on yours as you clench around him with a broken little sound you wish you could play off as cooler than it is. Chris just grins, lazy and pleased, like he’s won something. Sure you are, sweetheart.

And then he fucking pauses again.

Just holds there, buried in you up to the knuckle like he’s content to keep you right on the edge of madness as you glare at him, lips parted, already shifting your hips for friction, but his free hand comes up to steady you at the waist. Nuh-uh, he warns, teasing. You’re the one who agreed to twenty-one questions. You’re not getting out of it just because your legs are shaking. You blink at him, somewhere between aroused and outraged. Are you seriously going to edge me over a quiz game?

Chris has the audacity to laugh, pressing another finger inside you with a slow, cruel twist that makes you forget what planet you’re on for a second. That’s question twenty-two, he says, voice all wicked sweetness. But I’ll allow it. You swear under your breath, grinding down again because two can play at this game. Fine, you bite out. Truth or dare. He raises a brow, interested. We’re switching formats?

Answer it. Chris smirks, lips dragging over your jaw as he pumps his fingers in a slow rhythm that’s almost enough, but not quite. Truth. You narrow your eyes at him. Who’s your embarrassing celebrity crush?

He laughs, really laughs, breathless and boyish and warm in a way that makes your chest ache through the haze of want. Jesus, okay, he says, eyes scrunched, still slowly fucking you with the kind of patience that feels like punishment. This is going to haunt me, but… it’s the girl from Scooby-Doo. The live-action one. Velma. You blink at him. You mean Linda Cardellini? He groans. Yes. The sweater, the glasses, the sass—don’t judge me. You’re laughing too hard to speak for a second, which becomes very inconvenient when his thumb brushes against your clit in a lazy circle that makes your laugh crack into a moan. Okay, you breathe. That’s fair. Honestly? Valid.

He leans in like he’s about to kiss you, but instead he whispers, Your turn, and curls his fingers just right, making your hips jolt forward against his palm. Would you rather, he says, clearly enjoying your ruined expression, have sex in a public place and get caught, or accidentally send your mom a sext? You let out a sound that’s somewhere between a sob and a wheeze. Oh my God, what kind of demon are you? He just grins, smug. Answer carefully. You’re half-laughing, half-dying as you try to think through the haze of building pressure between your legs, his thumb not letting up for a second. Okay, okay, public sex.

Getting caught. Bold, he says, watching your face tighten when his fingers thrust a little faster. That says something about you. You gasp, breath hitching hard in your throat as you press your hips forward again, unable to stop yourself. Shut up, you gasp, helpless. You knew I wouldn’t say mom sext. You set me up.

Guilty, he murmurs, kissing along your neck now, open-mouthed and warm. Next question. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever masturbated to? You freeze against him, eyes going wide. Oh my God.

C’mon, he coaxes, mouth curved into a devilish smile. I told you about Velma. Don’t leave me hanging. You hide your face in his shoulder, but he doesn’t let up with his fingers, still moving inside you, still making you gasp even through your mortification. Fine, you groan. There was this audio clip, some guy reading from a tax fraud legal deposition with a deep voice and—don’t look at me like that. It was weirdly hot, okay?

Chris actually chokes laughing, full-body shaking, but his hand never stops, and now it’s infuriatingly good, rhythmic and deep and filthy enough that you start to lose the ability to laugh along. Oh my God, he wheezes, still grinning. That’s incredible. That’s like, top-tier trivia material. He leans in again, brushing his nose against yours, watching you with heat and fondness in equal measure. You’re insane. I think I’m obsessed with you.

You open your mouth to answer, but your words melt into a strangled moan when he presses just right and your body clenches down around him, thighs trembling on either side of his hips as he watches you unravel with greedy eyes, his mouth hovering just over yours, breath mixing with yours as your orgasm shudders through you, sharp and wet and aching. Fuck, you whisper. You're the insane one.

You’re welcome, he whispers back, then kisses you like a man who plans on earning another twenty-one answers. Your breath is still shaky, ribs rising too fast under your shirt, your thighs quivering where they’re slung over his lap, and he hasn’t even pulled his hand away yet. His fingers are still inside you, slow and wet and fucking obscene, curling lazily like he’s not done teasing your body just yet, like he wants to feel every aftershock and memorize the way your walls flutter around him, greedy and overstimulated. And the worst part if you don’t want him to stop, not even a little.

Chris watches you with that smug curve to his mouth, but there’s something darker in his eyes now, hotter, hungrier, like the teasing has started to backfire on him too. You’re so easy to mess with, he murmurs, like it’s a compliment, like he’s impressed, his free hand comes up to brush the damp hair from your face, thumb stroking your cheek with a gentleness that doesn’t match the filth of his other hand. And you still owe me another question.

You laugh, breathless, hoarse, but defiant. You’re still playing the game?

Chris grins, slow and wicked. Don’t act like you’re not into it. Come on, next one. Or I stop. His fingers shift inside you, one last teasing thrust before he slides out completely, leaving you empty and aching. You glare at him, hips twitching forward on instinct. Okay, okay. You pause, breath catching as you readjust your weight in his lap, only now realizing how hard he is beneath you, thick and straining against his sweats, twitching under the press of your soaked panties.

Your brain short-circuits a little, but you recover fast. If you could only use your mouth or your hands during sex, never both again, which would you pick? Chris whistles low, eyes flicking down to your lips like he’s imagining either option in vivid, detailed color. Cruel one, he mutters, shifting beneath you just to feel more of your heat. But I’m gonna say mouth. There’s something about making a mess of someone with just my tongue. Something about control, seems like. His hands tighten at your hips as he leans up, lips grazing yours without committing to the kiss. And I think you like being teased too much for me to give that up.

You open your mouth to argue, or moan, but he silences you with a single, filthy swipe of his thumb over your clit, barely there, just enough to remind you who’s in charge of your pulse. You grip his shoulders to steady yourself, blinking down at him like you hate how much he knows you already. My turn, he says, voice low, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your ruined underwear and he doesn’t touch, just hovers there. What’s the dirtiest thought you’ve ever had about me? You stare at him, startled. We’ve only known each other, like, twelve hours. Chris raises an eyebrow. You’ve definitely had thoughts.

You look away, cheeks flushed, your body still warm from the orgasm and the press of his cock trapped beneath you. Fine, you mutter. It’s from this morning. When you were standing in the kitchen, still sleepy, shirtless… stretching like that. He smirks, already smug. And I thought about getting on my knees, you continue, forcing the words past your throat, and just pulling your sweats down while you were mid-yawn. Making you lean back against the counter and letting me suck you off before you even woke up properly. His jaw flexes, hands gripping your hips so tight it makes you whimper. Fuck, he breathes, almost like a warning. You trying to kill me?

You smile, dragging your hips slowly against his, grinding the slick heat of your core over the length of his cock through the fabric. I dunno. You said we’re getting to know each other. He groans, deep and broken, eyes fluttering closed for a second. Okay, he says. New rule. Every time you don’t answer a question honestly, I get to put my mouth somewhere new. You blink. That’s the punishment?

Chris slides his hands up your shirt in one slow motion, finally lifting it over your head and tossing it aside. His gaze drops to your chest, hungry and reverent as he leans forward, brushing his mouth against the swell of one breast before licking a slow stripe over your nipple. It’ll feel like a punishment soon, he says, dragging his teeth gently across the skin until you arch into him. Now ask me something hard. Your voice is trembling now. What’s your biggest kink?

Chris looks up at you, mouth still warm and wet against your skin, his eyes dark with intent. Praise, he says. Control. Watching you fall apart because you want to, not because I’m forcing you. He licks again, sucks a little now, and your fingers sink into his hair like you need to anchor yourself. And right now? he murmurs, pulling back with a soft pop. Hearing you beg. That might top the list. You swallow, completely undone, grinding harder now just to feel more of him, leaking through your panties onto the front of his sweats. Next question, he says, voice wrecked now. How many orgasms do you think I could pull out of you if we stopped playing and really got started? And suddenly, you don’t feel like teasing anymore.

You can’t even remember what number you’re on, somewhere past twenty-one and deep into uncharted territory, half the questions aren’t even questions anymore, just confessions and dares passed between kisses and breathless moans, your body curled around his like you’ve forgotten it wasn’t always yours to hold. Chris still got that look in his eyes, wild and focused, like he’s reading every flicker of reaction off your face, adjusting his touch with surgical precision and the game—if it can even be called that anymore—is just another way to keep you strung out on tension, anticipation, the high of not knowing what he’ll ask or do next. Okay, he says, voice low and almost tender as he kisses your thigh, lips trailing dangerously close to where you’re soaked through and twitching. Would you rather have me use my mouth and take my time, or let you sit on my face and lose control? You laugh, wrecked, hoarse, practically vibrating with need. Is that even a real question?

Answer it, he says, lips brushing the edge of your underwear like a threat. Or I’ll pick for you. You glance down at him, his face between your thighs, his eyes bright and dark at once and something about the way he looks like he wants to be overwhelmed by you makes the answer easy. Your face, you whisper. I wanna ride your face.

He hums, low, approving, and pulls your underwear down so slowly it’s practically cruel, dragging them down your legs like he wants to savor every inch of bare skin. You’re lucky I like the sound of that, he murmurs, kissing up your inner thigh, hands gripping your hips as you shift to straddle his face, heart pounding so loud it drowns out the storm still raging outside. He settles back against the couch cushions, eyes fixed on you, and his voice is husky when he says, Don’t hold back.

And then his mouth is on you, devouring you with a hunger so intense it makes you cry out, your fingers flying to his hair for balance as your thighs tremble on either side of his head. His tongue is everywhere, licking and sucking and circling your clit with a precision that has you shaking, gasping his name before the first full minute is up. He moans into you like he can’t get enough, like the taste of you is something he’s needed all fucking day, and when you grind down harder, chasing the heat, he just grips your hips tighter and lets you.

You lose yourself in it, completely. Your head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as you rock against his mouth, every muscle in your body pulled tight with tension. Fuck, I—I can’t, you gasp, already close again, already ruined. You can, he growls against your cunt, the vibration of his voice shooting straight through your spine. You’re gonna come in my mouth, baby? I've got you. And when you do,it's shameless and desperate, thighs clamping around his head as your orgasm crashes over you, mouth open in a broken moan that echoes off the walls, raw and frantic as you ride it out against his tongue. He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, until you’re whimpering, until your body slumps forward with every nerve alight and his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

When you finally slide off his face, your legs barely work, and he’s panting beneath you, flushed, hair messy, lips glistening with you. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning like he just won the fucking lottery. Still counting the questions? he teases, voice rough and hoarse and yu laugh weakly, collapsing into his lap with your chest still heaving. I think we passed twenty-one a long time ago. Chris leans in, kissing you deep, messy, filthy, letting you taste yourself on his tongue before pulling back just enough to whisper, Then maybe it’s time we stop pretending it’s still a game.

It’s not a game anymore, but neither of you stops playing, even as he lifts you into his lap again, even as his hands drag across your waist and down your spine with a hunger that makes your skin burn, you’re still trading words, still throwing questions like gasoline on a fire that’s already too big to contain. What do you want me to do to you? he asks, voice low and rough as he kisses the edge of your jaw, lips dragging down your throat, chest, teeth grazing over the mark he left earlierl you breathe out something between a laugh and a whimper, fingers curling in the waistband of his sweatpants. Want you inside me. Deep. Slow. Until I can’t even remember what I was supposed to ask next.

Chris groans, like the words knock the wind out of him, and you barely get the chance to tug his pants down before he’s helping you, lifting his hips, cock springing free, thick and flushed and so hard it makes your breath catch in your throat. He wraps a hand around himself just to tease you, dragging his palm slowly along the length, the tip smearing precum across his skin, eyes locked on yours. You sure? he murmurs, voice tight with restraint. 'Cause I want you, but I’m not gonna last long if you keep looking at me like that.

You nod, almost dizzy with need, sinking your hips until the head of his cock catches at your entrance, slick and warm and perfect as you lower yourself onto him in one slow, devastating slide that punches a moan from both of you. Fuck, he hisses, head dropping back against the couch. You feel—holy shit—so tight. You clench around him on purpose, just to hear him swear again, and he thrusts up into you shallowly, hands gripping your waist like he’s afraid you might disappear. Next question, you breathe, rocking your hips gently, letting him get used to the rhythm of you. If I told you to come inside me, would you?

Chris blinks at you like he can’t believe you said that, like the words physically affect him as his jaw flexes hard, and he thrusts up deeper, rougher, like you just snapped the last thread of his restraint. Don’t say that unless you mean it, he growls, voice raw. Because if you tell me to, I will. I’ll fill you up so deep you feel it for days. Your next breath stutters as he hits that spot again, as your walls flutter around him, your body already trying to pull him deeper. You’re insane, you gasp. And I might be worse.

Another question, he says, burying his face in your neck as he thrusts again, slower now but harder, making your whole body jolt with every movement. If I told you I wanted to fuck you on every surface in this house before the storm ends, what would you say?

You laugh—moan, really—your fingers digging into his shoulders for balance. I’d say you’d better start with the kitchen counter and work your way through the rooms alphabetically. He groans, the sound almost broken, and his hands slide down to your ass, guiding your hips as you bounce on his cock with slow, grinding rolls, the kind that drag every inch of him through you with a rhythm that borders on cruel. Fuck, he mutters again, kissing your shoulder, your collarbone, your mouth. I’ve never wanted anyone like this.

Maybe it’s the storm, maybe it’s the heat between your bodies or the way your souls feel too close already, but the words don’t scare you, they anchor you, drive you forward. Then show me, you whisper, lips brushing his. No more holding back.

And he doesn’t. He flips you onto your back on the couch with a roughness that makes you gasp, cock slipping free for only a second before he’s guiding himself back inside you in one hard, smooth thrust that makes your eyes roll back and he fucks you, slow, deep, rhythmic, his body pressed tight to yours as his hands roam everywhere at once. What’s the first thing you’re gonna do after this? he pants into your ear and you laugh, legs wrapped tight around his waist. Probably pass out.

Wrong answer. He pulls almost all the way out, waits for you to open your eyes again, then slams back in. Try again. Your head spins. Shower, you choke out. With you. Maybe round two against the wall if you're strong enough. Chris grins, breathless, sweat dripping from his brow as he picks up the pace. Better. He kisses you hard, messy, tongues tangling, and he swallows your next moan when he grinds in deeper, just to feel the way your body clenches around him. Your turn. Ask me something, he says. Hurry. Before I make you come so hard you forget how to speak. You’re already close again, body arching, nails dragging down his back, but you manage to gasp, What’s your favorite part of me?

He thrusts deep and stills, buried to the hilt, his cock twitching inside you, his voice shaking when he answers. Right now? This. His hand slides down between you, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing slow, tight circles. But if you mean really... he leans in, kisses the corner of your mouth, his voice going soft even as his thrusts turn sharp again. It’s the way you look at me, like I’m already yours.

And then he makes you come again, loud and trembling, your body clenching so hard around him that he groans and follows you seconds later, spilling into you with a long, broken sound that feels like surrender. You cling to each other through it, hips still twitching, mouths still searching, and somewhere between the kisses and the breathless laughter, you realize you stopped counting the questions a long time ago.

The world is soft when it settles, like the storm outside finally gave up, like the air around you folded into something warm and quiet and real. Your bodies are tangled on the couch, skin damp and flushed, still pressed together in the kind of closeness that feels more like a conversation than anything you’ve said out loud and he hasn’t moved much, still half on top of you, head buried in the crook of your neck, one arm slung heavy over your waist. His breathing is slow now, steady, like he’s trying to memorize the rhythm of your heart with his cheek against your chest as you trail your fingers lazily through his hair, feeling the way his curls cling to your skin with sweat and time, and somewhere in the mess of it, you smile.

Hey, you whisper, voice raw, your throat a little ruined from all the gasping and laughing and moaning. If you had to rank that on a scale from one to ten— Chris groans, shifting just enough to lift his head and glare at you, but the edge doesn’t stick, he’s too blissed-out for sarcasm. Don’t make me throw you over this couch and do it again just to prove a point.

You snort, brushing a kiss against his temple. So… eleven? He sighs dramatically, flopping back beside you, arm still wrapped tight around your middle as he turns his head to look at you. His eyes are soft now, still playful, still glowing with that dangerous charm, but slower, gentler. I stopped counting, he says. Somewhere around the time you said you wanted to ride my face. Everything after that was just… instinct.

You laugh, a real one, breathless and a little unhinged, your hand sliding across his chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breathing beneath your palm. So what happens now? you ask, and you don’t mean for it to sound so honest, but there it is, naked between you. Storm’s still going, you’re still technically trapped here. Chris glances toward the window as the rain still lashes against the glass, wind howling down the alley like it’s not done being dramatic. He hums softly. Guess we’re stuck with each other.

Tragic.

Devastating. He nudges your thigh with his knee, smirking. We could watch something. Recharge. Maybe eat something that doesn’t involve my head between your legs. You fake a groan, tossing an arm over your eyes. Boring.

Okay, fine. He laughs, twisting to kiss your bare shoulder. But only if you ask me another question. You peek at him from beneath your arm, grinning. Why are you still here? He goes still for a second, the quiet between you deepening, thick with something unspoken and his voice lowers, more serious than you expect. Because this didn’t feel like a one-night thing.

Your breath catches, soft and small but he hears it, because of course he does. You roll onto your side to face him, his arm adjusting to keep you close. Yeah, you say, quieter now, eyes searching his. It didn't. For a while, neither of you says anything as the storm rolls on outside, wind still battering the windows, but it feels far away now, like the noise can’t touch this, can’t reach whatever this bubble is you’ve both fallen into. Chris shifts, brushing hair from your face, thumb tracing your cheek with the same tenderness he used hours ago, when everything was still new and charged and uncertain.

And then he smilesl soft, a little shy. New rule, he says. Every time we see each other… we have to play twenty-one questions.

You raise an eyebrow. We suck at keeping count.

Exactly, he murmurs, kissing your forehead like a promise. That’s how I’ll know it’s working.

[straykeedz-recs]

@important-cat-pics

[straykeedz-recs]

Pairing: Bangchan x reader (afab)

Genre: friends-to-lovers but mostly just smut

Summary: Chan has just returned home from tour and you hope you aren't wrong that something has changed between you. Only one way to find out…

Word count: 7.8k

Content: hand job, oral (f receiving), protected piv sex, chan pov in the last part

me: i won't repost stuff from the old blog

Also me: ....

anyway, @minisugakoobies reminded me that this fic exists yesterday and I have been writing for Chan recently (don't ask, it's gonna take ages) so here we are. unedited. {note this was originally written as a single drabble and then I wrote two more parts to it so if any bits feel a little disjointed, that's why.}

* * *

It wasn’t weird and it wasn’t uncomfortable. But it was different. It was definitely different this time.   

Chan sat in front of you, between your legs, his back against your chest and his head in the soft space between your shoulder and collarbone. You leant against the arm of the sofa with your hands on his stomach-   

That was different. You had the hem of his T-shirt between your fingers, toying mindlessly, while your other hand rested on his warm, soft skin beneath it. He had one hand resting over yours, his fingers not exactly entwined with yours, but not exactly not.    

You’d held hands before. On occasion. Entirely casually, platonically. Except for the part where you wished it wasn’t casual, wished it wasn’t platonic.    

You’d had feelings for Chan for as long as you could remember, since you first set eyes on him. Honestly, you were used to it. Comfortable with it even. You knew you weren’t going to do anything about it and that meant it didn’t worry you. It would be your little secret and you would soak up all the time with him you could, you would enjoy all the friendship privileges he offered you and you would clutch them close to your heart in the absence of any actual body to hold.    

It was only before he went away this last time, a couple of months ago, that you felt something change. Something about how clingy he had been the night before he left, a little more tactile than he usually was. He was ants-in-his-pants fidgety and wouldn’t sit still. He was wrestling you into a hug one minute and then pushing you to the other end of the sofa the next. He held you so tightly and for so long when you hugged him goodbye that you had joked it was like he was going off to war. He had laughed only half-heartedly, which, for Chan, might as well have not been laughing at all. He had pulled back and looked at you intensely with his hands still on your waist and you had waited and waited for him to say or do something else but he just kept looking.   

“Are you going to like, actually leave?” you had asked.   

He snapped out of his trance and ruffled your hair.    

“Course I’m going! Why? Trying to get me to stay?”   

You weren’t, because you knew he was going to leave, anyway, that he had to go, but he sounded hopeful (or were you imagining it?).   

“Yeah. I did consider locking you up for a second, but taking care of one animal is enough; I’m not sure I could cope with having to feed and care for you, too!”   

He had done a proper laugh then and you were reassured that whatever had just happened, it was a blip, a glitch, nothing more. He had hugged you one last time, shorter, looser, and then turned to leave with a salute.   

Then he was back, hugging you just as hard, fresh off the plane (rather un fresh, actually, and he had the cheek to ask to use your shower!).    

And it was the same as it had ever been.   

But it was also different. Because he had told you so many times while he was away that he missed you; he had said ‘wish you were here!’ so often that you actually believed it; your gallery was full of ‘found you!’ photos of ugly statues and ‘thought you’d like this’ shots of architecture and souvenirs—souvenirs he’d actually bought and brought home for you. He didn’t usually do that.    

And now, there you were, with your hands on his skin and your cheek resting lightly on the top of his head and he was laughing at the film you were watching and taking your hand from the hem of his top, crossing it over his torso and holding it there. He closed his fingers over yours. Holding hands. You flattened your palm over his stomach and stroked sideways, the circle of your arms tighter around him, and you wanted to ask what this meant. Did it mean anything? Had he just been lonely on the road? Did he just want some physical contact? Were you just... there?    

You weren’t one to be stuck in indecision. You didn’t have the patience for it. You decided, when you first met, that you weren’t going to act on your feelings because trying to date an idol was an insane thing to do. And you didn’t need the stress.    

But you also didn’t need the long, drawn-out stress of a ‘will they? Won't they?’ scenario with one of your closest friends.    

And, if you were going to be really honest, you kind of did need a good fuck. And you’d thought about fucking him a lot, one might say too much. And if he was interested, if something had changed and he saw you differently now, well, then the bedroom was calling for you.    

“Chan?” you said quietly.   

He twisted his head a little. “Yeah?”   

“Can I... touch you?”   

You drew your fingers back, softly grazing your nails against his abs. He giggled.   

“What do you mean? We already are touching!”   

You slipped just the tips of your fingers beneath the waistband of his jogging bottoms and the waistband of his boxers.   

“No, I mean... touch you.”   

“Oh, sh-… Uh.”    

You didn’t move your hand; you felt his heartrate quicken, thumping back against your chest.    

“You don’t have to say yes. It’s ok if the answer’s no.”   

“Yeah, no,” he said. “I mean, the answer’s yes. It’s ok.”   

“Are you sure?” you asked.   

He swallowed and nodded and put his hand over yours, carefully encouraging it lower. “Yes, I’m sure.”    

His hand left yours as it disappeared beneath the fabric of his clothes and you couldn't breathe as your fingers ran over the velvet skin of his soft cock, which twitched on contact. As you pushed his trousers and his boxers down, you almost couldn’t look, couldn’t bear the thought of disappointment, after all this waiting, after every fantasy, but you needn’t have worried. Of course, it was fucking perfect. Just like the rest of him. You wrapped your fingers around his semi-hard length and he shifted.   

“You don’-” Then he hesitated.   

“Don’t what?”   

“Uh, you don’t have to be gentle...”   

Then he wrapped his fingers around yours, squeezed a little tighter, and your thighs squeezed, too. You chuckled, a little embarrassed, a little shy actually, a little over-awed.   

“Channie likes it rough, huh?”    

You didn’t need to see his face to know he was blushing; you could feel the heat radiate from his cheeks.   

“Um, well, uh-”    

He was stammering now and you were amazed that he could be bashful with his cock in your hand, shy even though he was directing you.   

“I like it,” you whispered and you felt a shiver go through him.    

He kept his hand over yours and you smiled to yourself because you should have expected this. Control freak Chan, perfectionist Chan, Mr ‘I’ll just do it myself’ Bang. It was cute. But you weren’t going to let him get away with it. You let him control you, let him show you how he liked it, let him get himself to the point where his breathing was heavy and his bottom lip was bitten between his teeth and his brows were furrowed.    

“Hey,” said, nudging his head with yours. “Who exactly is giving this handjob? You want me to just leave you to it or...?”   

He spluttered and stopped and immediately let your hand go. “Sorry, I-”   

“You don’t have to apologise; I know you. But I want to do this for you, y’know?” You turned your head and gently bit the top of his ear before pressing a kiss to it.    

“Yeah, got it. All yours.”     

“Thank you.”   

You had him panting again in seconds, because he had already given you his secrets, and when he tipped his head backwards and whined, it made your cunt pulse.   

“Ok, you’re right, you’re right,” he gasped. “This is better. Fuck... Oh shit.”   

He was moving like he couldn’t help himself, his hips snapping up, fucking himself in your fist and you could feel his thighs twitching, feel the tension coiling in his body.    

It was building in you, too, as you soaked through your underwear. He wasn’t quiet and every moan, every grunt, every gasp of your name made your head spin. You hoped it wouldn’t stop here. After all this time, something was finally happening and you needed it to keep happening, you needed him to feel you, too. A moan fell from your own mouth as you imagined him fucking you, imagined that it wasn’t your hand around his cock but your cunt. That he liked it even rougher when he was inside you. That the deep black intensity he had inside him came out. That he fucked you like he danced, with every inch of his body and every ounce of strength.    

“I’m-.. I’m-…"    

You didn’t need him to tell you. “I know, babe. Go on, make a mess. Make a mess for me.”   

With a shudder and a cry trapped low in his throat, he came, over your hand, over your fingers, over his stomach and his T-shirt. He was gulping in air with his eyes closed and a hand clenching and unclenching at his side.    

“Oh, shit,” you whispered as you swiped a finger through the mess on his skin. “Who’s going to clean all this up?”    

You raised your hand and brought it almost to your own mouth, then pretended to think twice before pressing down on his bottom lip. It was a bold move, you knew, but you were feeling emboldened.    

Then he opened his mouth and took your cum-sticky fingers in without a second’s hesitation. Would the night’s surprises never end? He licked your fingers clean and ran his tongue over your palm before he swiped his finger through the mess on his stomach and lifted it to your lips. You laughed.   

“I can do you one better.”    

You shuffled and climbed out from behind him, pushing him down and straddling him. It was the first time you had been face to face; you both blushed when your eyes met and you couldn’t stop the giggle that rose in your throat. He giggled back and you recognised that you were on the verge of hysteria; if you let that giggle become a laugh, it wouldn’t stop until you were both crying. You tried to rein it in, this strange, self-conscious shyness that was gripping you, this wild giddiness that made you want to scream with laughter and cry ‘I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!’. You were looking at Chan and you knew he felt it, too; his eyes glittered and then all but disappeared as his smile widened. He bit his lip to try to keep it in, but it was no use.    

He snorted and covered his face with his hands as a loud laugh bellowed forth. You never could resist his mirth. You were helpless to it at the best of times. He was curling over, his whole body shaking, and you were climbing off him, flopping to the floor, weak with it, the laughter sapping your strength and overriding any capacity for being serious. It was too absurd. That this had just happened. That one day—one moment —you were friends and the next you were making him come over himself, that he was licking his own cum from your fingers. That you had wanted this for such a long time and sworn off it. That you had no idea it might be something he wanted. That you never even thought to ask! That it could have been this easy? All this time?    

Your brain was elsewhere as your breath shuddered and tears streaked your cheeks. You thought you had got yourself under control: your breathing was shaky and your stomach hurt but your eyes were dry and you sat yourself up. Then you looked at Chan, face also tear-streaked, flushed with glee, and you both collapsed again.   

“Don’t look at me,” Chan said, his voice thick and wobbly with laugher some minutes later. “Don’t look at me, please, I can’t laugh anymore, but can you get me a fucking tissue or something?”    

You shut your eyes, scrunched your face, and pressed your fist to the bridge of your nose; you couldn’t laugh anymore, it would kill you. But you knew that if you turned to look at him, helpless and messy on his back, that another fit would catch you. You crawled to the end table and threw the box of tissues in his direction.   

“Thanks.”   

You leant back against the edge of the sofa and let your breath resume its normal rhythm, let your heart slow down, let Chan wipe himself up and tuck himself away. You felt him sit up as his knee knocked your shoulder and you turned so you could just see him out of the corner of your eye. He looked down at his cum-stained T-shirt and gingerly pulled it over his head. Then he looked at it, displeased. 

“This was clean on like, an hour ago.”    

“Oh, shit, sorry, dude. You want me to take the handy back or something?”   

He looked alarmed for a second. “Do you want to take it back?”   

“No.”   

“Good, neither do I.”   

“I would kind of like to know where the fuck it came from though.”   

“What are you talking about? You started it! You offered!”   

“Chan, you were holding my hand . We don’t hold hands! Look at all this shit you bought me!” You gestured broadly to giftbags and boxes, trinkets and jewellery on the coffee table. “Besides, I’ve always wanted it; you haven’t.”   

He stared at you, mute, looking like you’d just asked him a long division question. “You always wanted it?”   

“Yep.”   

“Why didn’t you say anything?!”   

“Because you didn’t want it!”   

“How would you know?! You never asked!”   

“Ok, well, did you?”   

He looked up; he looked down. He looked thoughtful. He looked a little apologetic. “I don’t really know,” was his eventual answer.   

“Well, there you go. That’s why I didn’t say.”   

Silence reigned and you didn’t want this to collapse, to fizzle into awkwardness.    

“Do you want it? Now?” you asked.   

“Yeah.” At least he sounded sure about that.   

“What changed?”   

When he looked at you and caught your eyes, there was a look there you hadn’t seen in them before. It was almost painfully soft, tender in a way that pierced your heart. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at you like he was looking at something precious, something sweet. Then he shrugged.   

“I’ve never been away from you that long before.”    

“And?”   

“I didn’t want to be. It made me not want to go at all. And I couldn’t work out why it mattered so much. I’ve been away before. I’ve been here , even, and just been busy and not seen you for a while. But it felt different this time, somehow. I really didn’t want to go. And I talked about it and everyone told me I was like, the world’s biggest idiot. They all apparently thought—or knew?—I had feelings for you already and they all just said ‘tell her! You’ve got to tell her! Go for it!’ and I wanted to. I was going to, the night before I left, but then I realised I’d be confessing all that stuff and then just... fucking off. I didn’t want to do that. So, I... did nothing, I guess.”    

“Fair enough.”    

“You wanted it all this time? Me, you wanted me?”   

That he even had to ask was adorable, broke your heart a little. Who wouldn’t want him? He was everything you could have asked for and more; he ticked every box; he made your sad little heart sing like a songbird. And he still had to ask.    

“Since the moment we met.”   

“Shit.”   

“Shit.”   

“I had no idea.”   

He looked like he meant it, too: a little dazed, a little confused, just a hint of wonder on his face.    

“So, what now?” he asked.    

You shrugged. “You mean right now, or general future ‘now’?”   

“I guess both?”   

“Can I be honest?”   

“Yeah.”   

“Right now, I would really like to do something about how badly I want to fuck you.”   

And he was bashful Chan, again, his eyes wide and the tips of his ears pink, his mouth slightly open with surprise. You watched his Adam’s apple bounce as he swallowed.    

“I... am amenable to that.”   

“Want to try that again with something even slightly sexy?”   

And he blushed bright, covering his face with his hands. “Fuck, ok, give me a second.”   

You laughed and moved from the floor to sit opposite him on the sofa, your knees touching. You waited patiently for a second or two, then tapped his leg.   

“I’m flustered, ok!” he cried. “You’ve got me all... flustered. I don’t know... I-.. Agh. I swear I’m not this bad usually. I promise. I just--… this has really taken me off-guard! Fuck, I didn’t know. I-”   

You interrupted him to climb into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. He lifted his face to yours and you kissed him, just a light peck on his petal pink lips.   

“How about you let me lead, then?” you asked, your voice soft and low. “Can you do that? Can you let me take control?”   

He looked at you pleadingly, his eyes round and wide, and you were worried that it meant no, that he was going to say he didn’t want that.   

“Yes, please.”    

Fuck.    

With your hands on either side of his face, you pulled him closer and kissed him again, deep this time, deep and slow and breathless. He tasted of honey butter chips, which you had never liked before that moment. His tongue rolled with yours, soft and sweet and every bit as good as you had imagined. He whined quietly, just barely, when you pulled back, when you sank your teeth into the plush pink of his lower lip. When you looked at each other, nose-to-nose, his eyes were wide again, sparkling and bright and looking at you like you were the whole world.   

It wasn’t weird and it wasn’t uncomfortable and it wasn’t awkward; it didn’t feel like crossing a line or pushing a boundary; it felt like you should have been doing this all along. It was different for the two of you, sure, it was different. But you’d been ready for this change since you learnt his name, since he held his hand out to you and smiled politely. This different was good. This different was everything you’d ever wanted.    

* * *  

You could have kissed him forever. Would have were other parts of you a little more patient, a little more willing to take things slow. But you’d wanted Chan for weeks, months, almost years, and now he was finally here, beneath you, kissing you, hands skating softly up the curve of your waist, hesitating at your ribs.   

You weren’t hesitating. Not anymore. You pulled back from him so you could strip yourself of your top and you threw your bra with it. Didn’t give him a chance to react, to take you in. Just took his face in your hands and his bottom lip between your teeth again.   

“Touch me,” you mumbled, mouth still pressed against his, and you guided his hands upwards, cupped them over your breasts, prayed you wouldn’t have to keep coaxing action out of him.   

Because he had said he wanted it. He was kissing you like he wanted it. He had said so. Well, he had said he ‘was amenable’ to sex, which wasn’t exactly gushing enthusiasm but you would take it.   

“Chan,” you whispered, taking a beat.  

You sat back on your heels, inhaled deeply, and looked at him. He looked at you, colour high on his cheeks, ear burning, a little dazed, a little unsure.   

“Are you sure you want to do this?” you asked.   

You were crossing a line. That was certain. You were pretty sure that, if you stopped now, you could take it all back. You could rewind this evening and just be friends again. If he wanted. But going forward meant going forward . No returns. You would rather have him as a friend than nothing else, so you needed him to be sure now, right now at this moment, with your toes just over the line.  

“Yes!” he said, urgent, emphatic. “Yes, I do. I’m just...”  

 He groaned and dragged his hands down his face. He didn’t look at you when he spoke next. “I’m fucking nervous.”  

“Why?”  

“Because it’s you.”  

“What am I?”  

He looked at you then, wide and open and the cutest he’d ever been. His hands hesitated in the air, not quite reaching out for you, but not not. You held them, shuffled yourself forward on his lap again, pushed his hair from his forehead.   

“Hmm,” you said, contemplating his brow. You tapped it lightly with one finger. “I think you might be thinking too much about this.”  

“That doesn’t sound like me,” he laughed.   

“Close your eyes, Channie.”  

You didn’t. You kept them trained on his face. You needed to think now; you needed to slow yourself down so he could catch up. You’d had months to think about this, fantasise about it, dream about it: a thousand scenarios, a thousand acts, a thousand kisses... You had had time, you reminded yourself, to wait for this. Much longer than he had.   

And you still had time. This wasn’t a race. The ache in your core was persistent, was impatient, but you didn’t have to be.  

You put your lips to his and kissed him. Slow. Deep. It didn’t have to go anywhere, you told yourself, hoping that Chan was somehow getting the message, too. He didn’t have to be nervous, because you wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want to.   

You just needed to know what he did want and you would give him the time to tell you.   

Eventually, you felt his body relax a little; he leant back, shuffling down on the sofa and pulling you with him. He let his hands roam, grazed a nipple with his thumb a little experimentally until you moaned into his mouth for more. His hands were warm, like his heart, and firm, kneading at your breasts, pinching at your nipples and then pushing you backwards.   

With no hesitation this time, no nervous giggles, no shy glances, he put his lips around your tight bud and sucked. He kissed and he licked and he carefully grazed his teeth over you, fully absorbed in the moment. His hot breath against your skin made you shiver and his wet tongue made you wetter.   

When you felt as though he had traversed the peaks and valleys of your chest quite enough, you gave a tug at his hair and he finally flicked his eyes to yours. They were black and glazed and the look in them was like nothing you had seen from him before. It sent a thrill racing up your spine and you were about to tell him: how much you wanted him, how good that mouth was, how you wanted it elsewhere, but he spoke first.  

“I want to go down on you.”  

You choked, shocked out of your lustful stupor. You laughed. “I thought you were nervous!”  

His eyes lightened then, eyebrows raised. “Are you? We don’t have to- I-”  

“No!” You were quick to cut him off, desperate not to let him start thinking again, very happy with where his feelings were leading. “I want to. I want you to. Just... wasn’t expecting you to say it like that.”

The blush was back on his face but he wasn’t so bashful this time. Not quite. There was too much desire there, too much greed.   

You stepped off from the sofa and, in one smooth motion, pushed your leggings and underwear to the floor. You kicked them off your feet and rejoined Chan on the sofa, swinging one leg over him, leaning down onto your elbows to resume where you had left off. Your lips were almost touching when his hands came down onto your hips and he swore.  

“Fuck! Fuck, you are naked.”  

“Yes, that tends to happen when you take your clothes off.”   

His touch rounded your backside, another curse escaping on an exhale as his hands roamed this undiscovered territory. You took the opportunity of the distraction to kiss him, but it didn’t last long.  

“You’re fucking naked ,” he said again, as if it were really a wonder.  

“And you’re not ,” you countered.   

“Fair point.”  

And he slapped lightly at your bum to encourage you off him, so he could push his own trousers down, discard his own underwear.   

“Now we’re both naked,” you pointed out.   

When your eyes met, there was a frisson of tension that you’d felt before, and you knew where it was going, but you forced the laughter down, couldn’t collapse into hysterics – not again, not right now.   

“Is this weird?” he asked, thinking again. Always fucking thinking.   

“Only if you make it weird! Do you want it to be weird?”  

“No.”  

“Because it’s going to be if you keep saying it is.”   

You sat back in his lap, arms draping over his shoulders, as he rubbed at his face again.  

“It’s just...”   

He swore quietly as he nuzzled his nose into your neck, dragged it down your jaw and across your cheek until his lips found yours again. 

You could feel him beneath you, stirred, re-awakened, and it sent a spasm through your walls. You’d held him in your hand but what you wouldn’t have given to squeeze him in your slick cunt.   

“Chan,” you breathed out. “I want to fuck you.”  

He was kissing you in reply, moaning for half a second before he stopped. “Wait- no. I want to go down on you.”  

“Can’t we just fuck first?”  

You pressed your forehead against his, rolled your hips over him to make the point for you.   

“I just want to fuck you,” you whispered. “Please.”  

He shook his head slowly, carefully, still pressed against yours. “Later. I want to go down on you.”  

And you couldn’t deny that hearing those words, not once, not twice, but three times now, made you want it, too. Made you think about his lips and his tongue and fingers and the piercing, blinding reality of this. That it was happening. That none of this was a dream.   

“I owe you one,” he continued and you paused.  

“Owe me what?”  

“An orgasm. I had one. You haven’t.”  

“Are we counting?”   

He snorted and denied it. “No, I just think- I just want it to be even.”  

You smacked a kiss against his cheek. “Well, if we’re keeping score, we’re going to need some kind of chart.”   

He couldn't stifle his laugh and you joined him, letting a little of the tension go, aware that this could easily careen out of control, abs still hurting from the fit you both had earlier that evening.  

“I don’t want a chart, I just...”  

He looked at you and you looked back. The merriment fell away, discarded in an instant. Because this wasn't actually funny. Not really. It was hot. It was thrilling. It was frightening. You could see him thinking in those dark eyes, trying to find the right words; you wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to try so hard. Not for you.    

You could see him thinking in those dark eyes, trying to find the right words; you wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to try so hard. Not for you.   

“I want this to be good for you.”  

You resisted the urge to scoff, because you knew he meant it, and because this meant something to you. Something. Everything.  

“It is good for me,” you told him, lips close enough to touch his. You closed the gap and kissed him, firmly. “I want you so fucking badly.”   

He tightened his arms around you, crushing your body to his as he latched his mouth to yours. He still tasted like honey butter chips and you knew you’d never be able to eat them without thinking of him, thinking of this. You were definitely crossing a line. The line. And you could not contain your excitement. It smeared between your lips, slick beneath you as you rolled over Chan’s hot, flushed cock.   

“I want-” Chan broke away, breathing heavily, “I want to go down on you,” he said, with greater determination this time. “I want to eat you out.”  

Without waiting for a response, he tipped you carefully, moving out from under you, pulling your hips to the edge of the sofa and pushing your thighs apart.   

“Oh shit,” he breathed, just looking at you.   

His hands squeezed at your inner thighs as his jaw clenched. You had seen this kind of focus in him before: on stage, powerful and performing and dripping with sweat, determined to leave everything he had out there, to die before he gave up. A shiver of anticipation rippled across your skin and no sooner had it settled than Chan shifted closer, dropping a surprisingly chaste kiss to your thigh. Another followed it, then one more on the other side. He kissed you all over, some barely there, some that you knew would leave a mark.   

“You know you’re literally dripping?” he asked and there wasn’t so much as a hint of his former nerves, his bashfulness, but there remained a quiet awe, a slight disbelief at what was about to happen.

There was also his cheeky, little smirk, and eyes black as pitch, wide like an open mouth. Hungry.   

“I’m very fucking aware,” you retorted, the admonition undermined by your breathlessness. “Get on with it.”  

He rolled his eyes at you, playfully, like he had done a thousand times before. Then he did something he had never done before. With one hand gripping each thigh, he put his mouth to your lips and licked a broad stripe up to your clit. You quivered, whimpered, swore when he did it again, when he gathered all your arousal on his tongue and swirled it over your swollen bud.   

It made you forget every fantasy you’d ever had. You couldn’t remember if you thought he’d be like this or not. Couldn’t remember if you’d imagined correctly the soft, sweeping pad of his tongue flat against you or the hard flick of its tip. Couldn’t recall for even a second if you’d thought to imagine the way his hands would squeeze and pull at you. Had you guessed that he would moan like that? Had you dreamt the feel of his hair between your fingers?   

Your hips were moving on their own now, uncontrolled by you. Uncontrollable. You couldn’t stop them rutting against his mouth, couldn’t stop the noise resounding from yours.   

“Chan, fuck ,” you gasped as he sealed his lips tight around your clit and slipped two fingers inside you. “Like that, oh shit, like that. Please... Please...”  

He moaned in response, continuing precisely as he was, like that. Just like that. His tongue flicking at your clit like a switch that only turned on. His fingers curling, pressing hard inside you, pushing and pulling in one direction only. He was firm and precise and confident.   

You remembered the way he had, just minutes ago (was it really minutes ?), taken your fingers in his mouth, sticky with his own cum, after he had finished. You shivered with the heat of it. The thought of the taste of him mixing with the taste of you sent fresh arousal flooding into Chan’s hand; he was quick to catch it, his lips popping as his tongue slipped down to swipe at his sticky fingers pushing the juices from your pussy. The slick sound of it all made you blush, the noise of his enjoyment deepening the heat in your cheeks and your core.   

He let his fingers work for a second, his breath washing over your flushed cunt like a hot wind.   

“Fuck,” he panted, leaning back on his knees and tipping his head towards the ceiling.   

You opened your eyes when you felt his other hand leave your thigh, watched him squeeze at the base of his cock – so dark, so hard, so wet with precum.   

“You ok?” you gasped, still rolling your hips against his hand.   

He nodded, still looking skyward. “You’re so fucking hot,” he replied.  

His head fell forward and his eyes caught yours, the look in them making you suddenly shy, a giggle slipping out before you could stifle it. Though you needn’t have worried it would start the hysterics again because it was stopped short, cut off by the gasp elicited by Chan’s tongue, licking up your lips, circling your clit, teasingly light and then harder with every rotation.   

You gripped the sofa cushions tight, knuckles white, as the slow ticking of the pleasure bomb inside you grew faster, accelerating towards explosion with great intention. You knew it all too well: the tightening, the quivering, the deep, heavy drag that, in a split-second, sprang high, ricocheting from head to toe, gushing forward in a scream of delight.   

You flopped back into the cushions, sticky with sweat, chest heaving, head lightly spinning. Chan left a playful trail of kisses up your torso, onto your chest and your neck and then your mouth. He grinned at you, dopey and sparkling.   

“One all.”  

* * *  

“Please,” you gasped, voice still high and tight, breath caught in snatches. “Please, can we fuck now?”   

And the starting pistol was fired. You moved off the sofa and Chan moved with you, stumbling towards your bedroom, though he didn’t know why. Didn’t know why the sofa wouldn’t suffice, why it was somehow sullied now. Didn’t care. As long as this happened, kept happening, as long as he got to see you and hear you and touch you some more; his desire yawned open in his chest, awake and hungry. Let out of its cage.  

These past months, away from you, Chan had thought was for the best. His confusion and these feelings that he didn’t believe, didn’t understand, he didn’t want to face you with them. Didn’t want to face them at all. Because it wasn’t what you were. You were friends. That was all and he didn’t want to ruin it. Thought that he was sure to, somehow.   

But now it was a tangle of limbs and sticky skin against sticky skin. All sweat and salt and a kind of feverish urgency he hadn’t expected, hadn’t even dreamt of. He had kept his feelings on lock-down, thought they might go away if he didn’t prod at them, didn’t acknowledge them, but he couldn’t ignore them now: now with your mouth on him like that, with your hands roaming his body, as he swallowed your moan down his throat.   

This pent-up desire was free and he was dizzy with it. Tripping over his feet and tumbling to the mattress on top of you; making up for his clumsiness with kisses on every inch of skin his lips could reach.  

And you, asking, begging, again, one more time, still, even when his lips crushed yours and cut off your words; the second you broke free, you were saying it again. Fuck me. And he was going to, was about to, was pushing himself to his knees and then it hit him.  

“Oh shit,” he breathed, sitting back on his heels with a sigh, hands braced on his knees to try to catch his breath.  

“What?” you asked, similarly panting. “ What?”  

“Condom?”  

“ Fuck!”  

He watched you twist, your legs trapped between his, to scramble at your bedside unit. He watched your hand search and come up empty, drag open the second drawer and repeat its motions.   

“Do you have one?” you asked, head turned away, struggling to get to the bottom drawer without moving off the bed completely.  

“Why would I have one?” Chan asked back in a squawk though he wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt self-conscious, defensive even.   

“I don’t know; don’t guys carry them in their wallets or something?”  

“You’re my friend ; wouldn’t it be weird if I came here with a condom?”  

You turned to look at him, then. Sat up, naked, still squared in with his knees either side of you. You looked at him. Blinked.  

“I don't know, dude, you tell me what the fuck we’re doing here, then.”  

And it came out harsh. Chan blanched. Because what were you doing? Were you really asking? Had this ruined it? Because he felt guilty that he didn’t have a condom in his wallet. Like he usually did. Always did, though he couldn’t really have said why. It was the same fucking condom he had in his old wallet that he transferred over to the new one. The same one that he looked at before coming here tonight. That he wouldn’t have thought twice about before—wouldn't have even remembered it were there. But it was you and something was different and something told him that he shouldn’t go to your place with a condom in his wallet as if he expected something. As if something could ever happen between you. It was presumptuous. It was arrogant. It was foolhardy.  

But nothing about the night had gone the way he had expected it to and now... That fucking condom. If only he had it.   

“Sorry, you’re rig-”   

Apologising on reflex, his chin dipping to his chest, because he’d only gone and fucked it up by overthink-  

Then your hand was on his face and your lips on his, your fingers sneaking into your hair.   

“It’s fine,” you murmured. “It’s fine.”  

And he didn’t know if it was, but you kept kissing him all the same, so he kept kissing you back. Was it fine if this was as far as it went tonight? His cock said one thing and his head said another. Maybe it was better this way, he thought. Maybe rushing headlong into sex would be a bad idea. Mayb-  

You pulled away.  

“I’ve got some,” you whispered, your urgency returning as you scrambled off the bed. “One sec.”  

Oh, thank god. He watched you walk away, the fingers of one hand encircling his hot, heavy shaft, unconsciously, automatically, unable to stop himself. Unable to stop his heart racing as he looked down and remembered your own fingers around him. The softness of your skin. The jolt of arousal when you had teased him, like you usually did but also nothing like that.  

You returned before he had time to think more and extracted one shiny packet from a box which you then let fall to the floor. There was something about you that was shy: lips a little pursed, eyes looking away. He knew you well enough to tell that much.   

“Forgot I had these,” you said quietly, still not looking at him as you knelt on the bed and made your way towards him. “Bought them earlier.”  

Chan’s shock made him laugh.  

“In anticipation of this...?”  

“No!” your denial was swift. “No, it wasn’t like that! I wasn’t planning anything! I just-”  

But he didn’t care. Was laughing because it was he all night who had been flustered by this. It was he who kept saying the wrong thing, wrongfooted all the time by the turn the night had taken. He enjoyed it being you. Enjoyed that the dynamic between the two of you didn’t have to be entirely different. You could still tease him. He could still tease you.  

“I didn’t plan this,” you said, performatively sullen, pouting.  

“But you want it, right?”  

You laughed and pushed him back towards the head of the bed, not bothering to answer with words. You made him sit, made him once again cede control of his cock to you; he let your fingers wrap around him, watched as you stroked him slowly, as your wrist twisted. His eyes fluttered closed for a second, just a second, and when he opened them again, you had the condom packet between your teeth, tearing it open with your free hand. It was boring, really—a mundane gesture—but his dick throbbed, a drop of precum leaking from the top as you spat the empty packet away from you.  

“You sure about this?” you asked, with the tip of his sheathed shaft at your entrance.  

He nodded eagerly, barely able to stop himself lifting his hips to push into you himself. Then he stopped nodding, flicked his eyes to you because why were you asking?   

“Aren’t you?” he replied, a swoop of doubt flying through his guts.  

You nodded back. “I’m sure.”  

A swoop of relief. “I’m sure.”  

And then he placed a hand on your hip and used his other to hold himself steady, so you could sink down on him, slowly, with a long moan stretching to the ceiling. And, truth be known, if he could have, he might have asked for a second, just a second, to get used to it. The feeling of you. All warm and wet and tight and your burning skin so soft, and your lips so sweet and your eyes dark and sparkling like the brightest night sky. And his heart hammering in his chest like time was running out; his blood boiling, reduced to a thick, sticky syrup that he told himself wasn’t love, not exactly, but wasn’t entirely not. Just a second to gather himself not just because you felt so good but because it was you .  

You didn’t give him a second. No sooner than you had lowered than you raised yourself up again; you set an impatient pace, urgent, running towards something at breakneck speed. Chan, too, then was running. Chan, too, was urgent in his kisses, in his praise, in the way your name caught at the back of his throat when he felt your walls squeeze around him.   

He wished he’d had longer to think about it. Because he hadn’t given himself the chance to imagine this, to get used to the idea of it, to think about how good you would feel, how sweet you would taste. He hadn’t had the opportunity to picture you in his head before you were right there in front of his very eyes. Real. More than real. A kind of hyperreal that made him able to smell the sound of you and hear your taste. He could feel every one of your gasps in his chest. He could moan out the taste of your skin. He could smell your hair and it would feel like satin.   

It would’ve been less overwhelming, he thought, if he’d given himself an imaginary dry run-through. He would be doing better if he’d had a second. If he got a second to get himself together, he’d be able to get over the shock of it. He’d be able to get a hold of his senses and-  

You slowed. Sank down on him, as deep as he could get, and took his face between your palms. Took his lips between yours then slipped your tongue between them. Rolled your hips and moaned into his mouth. It was the tiny bite of pain when your teeth sank into his bottom lip that brought him to his senses. Like the tug on his hair before, the little jolt was enough to bring him around and he pulled back, determined once more to make the most of this for you.   

“I wanna move,” he said, mumbling the words against your mouth in a final kiss before you slipped off him.   

The fact that you then knelt, waiting to be told where he wanted you, made his guts clench. He traced his fingers lightly over your face and then pushed at your shoulder, encouraging you onto your back. He slipped his hands beneath your ankles and lifted, your knees bending as your thighs reached your chest.  

“This ok?” he asked.  

You nodded, settling your ankles over his shoulders, then crossing them and using them to pull him towards you. He laughed, because it was just like you, to never let him get the last word, to never quite let him be in control. He laughed because he liked it, in this capacity even more than any other. In the seconds before he sank himself back into your hot, wet cunt, he imagined you testing him, pushing at that boundary because you could, because he’d let you, because he knew that you liked this as much as he did and if tussling for control was the game, he wanted to play. Even if he let you win.  

As he snapped his hips with his hands tight around your calves, as your walls spasmed and clenched around him, as his ears filled with the slick squelch of his cock in your heat, his head felt clearer. Still hyperreal but in a way that made sense. When he tasted the sound of his name on your tongue, it tasted right. When he smelt the brush of your soft skin against his like roses, he knew. All his anxiety about fucking it up, ruining your friendship, everything that he had been hiding from while he was gallivanting about the globe, it was pointless. It was wrong. It was useless noise in his brain. Because he’d always believed he wasn’t worth it, wasn’t worthy of you, wasn’t worthy of getting what he wanted. But there you were, beneath him, every bit what he wanted and more. Every bit his.  

*   

“You know there’s no going back now,” you said, lying on your bed, stretching your arms and legs long, still naked and glistening.   

“What do you mean?” he asked as he returned to join you, condom neatly disposed.  

You turned on your side to snuggle into him, pressed a firm kiss to his lips.  

“This,” you answered. “We’ve had sex now so you can’t turn around to me and say you actually just want to be friends.”  

He laughed. It was preposterous to him that you might think he would be the one to change his mind. “I don’t want to be your friend.” 

“Good.” Then you piped up again. “I never really liked you much anyway.”  

He chuckled, knew it was a joke; knew it because it was followed by a smile that was all syrup, that left a sticky sweetness on his mouth after you kissed him.  

“Fat chance I’ll believe that. Horse is out of the barn, mate; you just said it yourself: you can’t take this back.”  

“Fuck. I guess you’re stuck with me.”  

“I think I can live with that.”  

[straykeedz-recs]

when the past knocks.

seo changbin x f!reader (ft. kim seungmin x f!reader)

synopsis: you left to protect your son and yourself. but healing gets complicated when old ghosts return… and one of them still makes you laugh.

warnings: angst, infidelity, emotional distress, mild swearing, jealousy, unresolved feelings, hurt/comfort.

wc: 12,629

The air in your childhood bedroom never really changed. It still smelled faintly like old wood, laundry detergent, and whatever fabric softener your mom used, floral, a little powdery, like a scent from another decade. You’d hoped it might feel comforting after everything, but all it did was remind you that you didn’t belong here anymore. Not really. You weren’t a child anymore. You weren’t a daughter. Not just that. You were a mother. A wife, sort of. Or maybe just someone who used to be married. The line was blurry. The divorce papers were still unsigned. You hadn’t touched them since the day you left Seungmin.

Roan had adjusted better than you thought he would, not that that said much. He didn’t throw tantrums, didn’t cry at night or beg to go back. But you saw the way he lingered by the front window, how he never said Seungmin’s name anymore but would still quietly tuck the stuffed lion his dad gave him beside his pillow every night. He didn’t talk about his old friends, or his old school, or the home you left behind. He just colored a lot. Long, quiet afternoons bent over crayons and sketchpads, like he was trying to give shape to things he didn’t have the words for yet.

Your parents didn’t ask too many questions. They welcomed you back like it was just temporary. Like it was a little break while you and Seungmin sorted things out. Like it wasn’t the wreckage of everything you’d been holding together for too long. You let them believe it. Because explaining would mean exposing yourself, and you didn’t have the strength for that yet.

“Just a trial separation,” your mom had said that first night. “Sometimes space is good. Men panic when things get hard. But if he really loves you—”

“He cheated,” you’d wanted to scream. “He cheated and then told me he still loved me. Like that meant anything. Like love excuses betrayal.”

But you’d just nodded. Quiet. Hollowed out. You let her hug you and serve you leftover bulgogi and rice like nothing was broken.

It was three days later that the note came home in Roan’s backpack. Written in soft cursive with a smiley face beside your name. “Looking forward to meeting you at Parent-Teacher Night!” It made your stomach sink. You didn’t want to go. You weren’t ready to face small talk with strangers, other parents with their lives in order, smiling faces and matching wedding rings. You didn’t want to sit through a slideshow about math curriculum while pretending your life hadn’t just imploded.

But Roan was excited. He showed you which table he sat at. He told you that his teacher, Ms. Lee, was “super nice” and let them choose from the “big crayon bucket” on Fridays if they finished their reading.

So you went.

Your mom helped you pick an outfit. Something presentable. Not too formal, not too casual. You ended up in dark jeans and a beige cardigan over a clean white tee. Simple. Safe. The kind of outfit that said, “I’m doing fine.” Even though you weren’t.

The classroom smelled like floor polish and old books. The kind of smell that never really left these places. Parents were already filing in, chatting in little groups. Some you vaguely recognized from your own time here. Faces that looked older now, slightly more worn.

Roan was already tugging at your hand, dragging you to the back of the room where the kids were gathered, coloring and playing with puzzles. You ruffled his hair, kissed his forehead, told him you’d be right over there if he needed you. He nodded, too busy choosing crayons to really listen.

You sat down. Alone. The rows of chairs were filled with clusters of couples, some laughing together, others nudging each other as the principal began to talk. You were trying to pay attention. Something about volunteers. Fundraisers. A school play. You couldn’t focus. Your hand moved unconsciously, rubbing the skin between your thumb and forefinger. A nervous tick you hadn’t realized had come back.

“You still do that thing with your hand when you’re not listening.”

The voice beside you was soft. Familiar.

You froze. Your fingers stopped moving.

Slowly, you turned.

He looked different. Older, definitely. His hair was shorter, the lines around his eyes deeper. He looked tired, but in that way people who carry grief tend to look. Like something had settled into his bones and refused to leave. But he was still unmistakably him.

“Changbin?”

He smiled, lopsided. “Hey.”

Your heart did something strange. Twisted, maybe. Or maybe it just broke a little more.

He looked at you for a second longer than polite. His eyes dropped to your hands, still frozen in your lap. Then up to your face again.

“I thought that was you earlier,” he said. “Wasn’t sure if I should say anything.”

You swallowed, found your voice. “What… what are you doing here?”

He jerked his thumb toward the group of kids in the back. “Yuna. My daughter. Seven. Same class as your son, Roan, Right?”

You blinked and nodded. “Your daughter?”

“Yeah.”

You processed that slowly. Looked toward the coloring table. You hadn’t noticed her before, but now that you knew, her dark eyes, the way her nose scrunched up when she concentrated, it made sense. She was beautiful. She looked like him.

“She’s adorable,” you murmured.

“Thanks.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Her mom picked the name.”

You looked at him again. Hesitated. Asked before you could stop yourself: “Your partner…?”

His expression didn’t falter. Just grew heavier.

“She passed away. Last year.”

The words hit like a quiet blow. Not sharp. Just… devastating in a way that took the air out of your lungs.

“I’m so sorry,” you said quietly.

He nodded once, like he’d heard it too many times to react anymore.

There was silence. Not awkward, but full. Heavy. Weighted by history you both hadn’t touched in over a decade.

He looked over at you. “What about you? Are you married…?”

But before he could finish, the teacher called your name. “Mrs. Kim? Roan’s mom?”

You stood too quickly. “I—yeah. That’s me.”

Changbin looked like he wanted to say more. You didn’t give him the chance. You stepped away, fast, and walked toward the front of the room where the teacher was smiling too brightly, talking about reading levels and handwriting improvement, and all you could think about was the fact that Changbin had been sitting beside you. That his wife passed away. That he had a daughter. That your son and his went to school together. That the past had just reinserted itself into your present like it had never left.

You answered the teacher’s questions. Nodded at the right times. Smiled when prompted. But it wasn’t real. None of it felt real.

When the meeting ended, the parents filtered out. Some lingered, chatting. You tried to leave quietly, but Changbin caught you by the exit.

“Hey,” he said, stepping in front of you. “Sorry if that was weird.”

You shook your head. “No. It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting—”

“Me?”

You hesitated. “Any of this.”

He nodded. Looked down at his shoes for a second, then back up. “It’s weird being back here.”

“You moved back?”

“Few months ago. My parents are helping out with Yuna. I couldn’t do it alone anymore.”

You nodded. You understood that. In your own way, you were doing the same.

He hesitated. “So… are you okay?”

You wanted to lie. To say yes. But your voice cracked. Just barely.

“No,” you said, and that one word felt like a floodgate breaking.

He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t push. Just looked at you like he saw right through all the walls you were barely holding up.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said softly. “But if you ever want to… I’m around.”

You nodded. Bit your lip. Blinked fast.

Roan came up then, holding your hand. “Can we go home now?”

You ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, baby. Let’s go.”

Changbin smiled at Roan. “See you at school, buddy.”

Roan tilted his head. “Who’s that?”

You paused. “Just… an old friend.”

Roan nodded, accepting that. You started walking away. Changbin didn’t follow. But you could feel his gaze on your back all the way to the parking lot.

When you got home, your mom was waiting up.

“How’d it go?” she asked.

You shrugged. “Fine.”

She gave you a long look. “You sure?”

You nodded. Roan ran past you toward his makeshift bedroom that was once the guest room. Your mom smiled after him.

“Seungmin called earlier,” she said casually. “Said he was thinking of coming by this weekend.”

You froze. “Did he say why?”

She shrugged. “Said he misses you both. Wants to talk.”

You didn’t answer. You just went upstairs. You didn’t have the energy to tell her not to get her hopes up.

Later that night, when the house was quiet, you sat on your old bed, the divorce papers in your lap. Blank. Still unsigned.

You didn’t cry.

You just sat there, staring at them, while outside, the town you once left behind breathed quietly in the dark. Somewhere across it, Changbin was probably doing the same thing, navigating the ruins of what used to be, trying to find some kind of shape to rebuild from.

But you weren’t rebuilding. Not yet. You were just surviving.

And that had to be enough for now.

-

It had been a rough morning.

You barely slept the night before. Tossed and turned in the narrow bed, the blankets tangled around your legs, heart heavy in your chest like a rock that refused to dissolve. The silence of your parents’ house wasn’t comforting, it was deafening. And knowing that Seungmin might come by, might try to see you, that turned every breath into a burden. You didn’t want to see him. Not in this house, not in your childhood bedroom, not where everything already felt too small, too loud, too exposed.

You didn’t want to see him because you couldn’t trust yourself not to crack. Not in front of Roan. Not in front of your parents. Not when every part of you was still raw and bleeding.

And when you finally did fall asleep, maybe an hour or two at most, it was like sinking into darkness with your fists clenched.

You were pulled out of it by a light nudge at your arm. You stirred slowly, bleary-eyed, your first instinct assuming it was Roan, coming in to tell you he was ready for school.

But then you heard it, that voice.

Soft. Familiar. Too gentle.

“Hey,” he whispered, almost lovingly. “Baby, wake up.”

Your eyes snapped open like something inside you had been shocked awake. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t your imagination.

It was Seungmin.

You jerked upright, heart hammering as you blinked the sleep from your eyes and looked at him, standing there in the pale morning light, like he had every right to be in this room, like the last few weeks hadn’t happened. His voice, the way he said your name, the way his fingers had brushed your arm, had sounded too much like before. Before everything.

Before he’d shattered you.

You opened your mouth to curse him, maybe. To scream, to demand why the hell he thought it was okay to come into this room, to look at you like nothing had changed.

But your mother’s voice came from the doorway before you could say a word.

“Oh good, you’re up!” she said, chipper, unbothered. “Look who’s here!”

Like it was a surprise. Like it was a gift.

You could’ve told her to leave. You could’ve asked for privacy.

But then you heard it. Roan’s voice. A sudden, thrilled cry from down the hallway.

“Dad?!”

You heard the thump of feet running on hardwood before Roan threw himself into Seungmin’s arms.

You watched it happen. You watched your son’s arms wrap tightly around his father’s neck, his face buried into his shoulder like he hadn’t slept in weeks without that exact kind of comfort.

“I missed you!” Roan mumbled against his chest, holding on like he never wanted to let go.

Seungmin was grinning, holding him close, swaying just a little, as if everything was fine.

“I missed you too, buddy,” he murmured, voice soft.

You felt your throat tighten. This was why it was so hard. This, the joy in your son’s voice, the love in his eyes, the complete adoration for a man who didn’t deserve either of you anymore. You couldn’t take that away from Roan. You wouldn’t. But it made your chest ache in that sick, hollow way, the ache of watching your own pain become invisible to the people you loved the most.

“Why don’t you go get ready for school?” you managed to say to Roan, gently. Carefully. “We’re leaving soon.”

Roan pulled back, nodded, and turned but not before Seungmin crouched down and said, “I’ll take you with Mom, okay? I’ll drive.”

Your heart skipped, something twisting deep in your stomach.

And of course, your mother jumped in again from the hallway. “That’s a great idea! The three of you. Just like before. You need this time. I’ll go finish breakfast. You two talk.”

Then she was gone.

You stood there in silence as Roan padded off, humming to himself, oblivious to the storm behind him.

Then it was just you and Seungmin.

You stood up slowly to close the door, your movements stiff, every muscle tense. He took a step forward, arms already open like he could hold you and fix everything with the same touch he once used to make you laugh, to calm you down, to convince you you were safe.

You stepped back. Immediately. Sharply.

His arms dropped.

“Are you serious right now?” you asked, your voice flat, brittle.

He sighed, like you were being difficult. “What, are you still on this?”

You blinked. Your mouth dropped open just slightly.

“Still on this,” you echoed, voice low. “You cheated on me.”

“It was a mistake,” he said quickly, as if that word made it smaller. “You left. You packed up and left, you took Roan—”

“I took him away from you?” you snapped. “You’re the one who ruined everything!”

His jaw tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You’re being dramatic. You didn’t even let us work through it.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Work through what? You slept with someone else. You lied to me. Repeatedly. And now you’re standing here, in my parents’ house, acting like I’m the problem because I won’t let you hug me?”

His voice lowered, sharper now. “You ripped our son away from his home. His school. His routine. You think that didn’t hurt him?”

You faltered because he was right, in some twisted way. Roan was hurting. You saw it in the quiet moments. In the way he didn’t ask about friends. In how he always looked to you first, like he was afraid something might shift again.

But you didn’t do that. Seungmin did. You left because you had to. Because staying meant breaking completely.

He reached for your hand. Gently. Like he always used to. Like those early years, before everything got heavy.

But you didn’t realize what he was doing until he stopped, eyes flicking down.

“You’re not wearing your ring.”

You pulled your hand back, slowly. “Of course I’m not.”

The silence between you was cold now. Thicker.

He didn’t let go of it, though, the guilt, the insinuation. “You think you’re the only one in pain?” he said softly. “You think I didn’t stay up every night after you left, thinking about Roan, about you, about what I—what we—could’ve fixed?”

“You should’ve thought about that before you started sleeping with your coworker,” you snapped. “Before you made me think I was going crazy. Before you stood in our kitchen and told me you still loved me after everything.”

He stepped back, but only slightly. “Because I do. I always have.”

The door knocked lightly. Your mother’s voice followed: “Breakfast’s ready! Seungmin, you’re welcome to stay, of course. Even a few days, if you want!”

Your heart seized.

You turned toward the door, ready to open it, to tell her no. That it was a terrible idea. That she didn’t know the truth, any of it.

But before you could say anything, Seungmin looked at you with that familiar, quiet smile. The one that used to charm your parents, used to make you feel like the most cherished person in the room.

“I’d love to,” he said loud enough for her to hear. “Let me just talk to my office. I can work remote for a bit.”

You could see it already, your mom beaming. Roan cheering. The quiet assumption that this was the beginning of a fix, not the deepening of the fracture.

Your fists clenched at your sides.

He was doing it again, weaving his way back in, without apology. Without accountability.

You stared at him, your voice caught somewhere between rage and heartbreak.

“This doesn’t change anything,” you said, your voice shaking. “You don’t get to just… move in and pretend we’re fine.”

He tilted his head. “But we could be. Eventually.”

And just like that, the cracks inside you deepened.

Because part of you wanted to believe it. Wanted to reach out and rewind time.

But another part, the part that remembered the nights you cried in silence, the lies, the hollow apologies, knew better.

The door creaked slightly, your mom’s voice warm and hopeful again: “Come eat before it gets cold!”

Seungmin brushed past you, opened the door, like he belonged there.

And you stood alone in your childhood bedroom, heart in pieces, knowing that the worst kind of betrayal wasn’t the one that came from an enemy.

It was the one that came wearing your husband’s smile.

Breakfast was unbearable.

Not because of the food, your mom, as always, had made more than enough: golden pancakes with just the right crisp on the edges, scrambled eggs, a fresh fruit bowl, and toast she always left slightly burnt because she knew your dad liked it that way. Everything smelled like comfort. Like childhood. Like home.

But the weight in the room made it all feel distant. Like you were watching a scene you didn’t belong in anymore.

Roan, on the other hand, was glowing.

He talked nonstop, bouncing in his seat as he told Seungmin every little detail about his new school from how his new teacher smiled a lot and had a frog-shaped pencil case, to how another kid in class had Pokémon stickers, to how he was trying to memorize the name of every student even if he couldn’t remember which of the twins was Ava and which was Emma.

“Ms. Lee said we might get to do a science experiment next week,” Roan grinned, syrup on the corner of his mouth. “And she said I’m a really good reader!”

Seungmin was nodding along, eyes bright with pride, one hand gently ruffling Roan’s hair.

“That’s my smart boy,” he said, voice warm. “You’re amazing.”

Your heart tightened. Not at the compliment, but at how seamless it was for him to just be here. At your kitchen table, in this house, pretending like he belonged again. Like he hadn’t destroyed something precious and just decided he could waltz back in and act like the glue was already drying.

Your parents were eating it up.

“I thought you were going to visit this weekend,” your mom said suddenly, taking a sip of coffee and glancing at Seungmin with a smile that felt far too affectionate. “What brought you down early?”

You didn’t even try to hide the way you rolled your eyes just a small, weary gesture, hoping no one would notice. But of course, Seungmin did.

He set his fork down gently and leaned back, giving the most concerned sigh he could muster. It was so calculated it made your skin crawl.

“She hasn’t been answering my texts,” he said, voice low. “Not about Roan. Not about… anything, really. I couldn’t sleep. I was worried something had happened. So I just got in the car and drove.”

You scoffed softly into your mug, shaking your head. Worried.

Your mother gasped like it was a scene out of a drama.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “That’s so romantic.”

You looked at her, stunned. But she was already turning to your father, eyes sparkling.

“Isn’t that romantic? Driving all this way, just to check on her? That’s love, right there.”

You felt your stomach twist.

“It’s like I always say,” she continued, voice rising with that hopeful little lilt she used when she was narrating the story she wanted to believe. “Every couple goes through hard moments. That’s what makes a marriage strong, weathering the storms together. Don’t you think, honey?”

Your father nodded solemnly, like he was offering some sage wisdom. “I’m just glad you’re here, Seungmin.”

“Thank you,” Seungmin said quietly, giving your dad a respectful smile. “And thank you, really, for breakfast. It’s… it’s good to be here.”

You didn’t miss the glance he threw your way as he said it.

Like he was laying it on, just enough to keep the illusion going.

You clenched your jaw, pushing your barely touched plate a little to the side.

You’d had enough.

Roan was still mid-sentence, telling Seungmin about how there was a garden outside his classroom and the teacher let them pick mint leaves to smell, when you stood abruptly, your chair scraping back against the floor.

“You’re going to be late, Ro,” you said, already walking around the table. “Get your stuff. Shoes, backpack. Let’s go.”

Your voice was firm. Not sharp, but final. The kind of tone Roan knew meant not to argue.

“Okay!” he said, popping the last strawberry into his mouth before hopping off the chair.

Seungmin stood as well, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair, still holding that calm, casual air like he wasn’t carefully engineering a performance.

“I’ll be in the car,” he said, smiling at your parents. “Thanks again for everything. I’ll be back after drop-off,”

You froze.

You wanted to say no. To say he wouldn’t be. To explain that your mother’s hospitality wasn’t a free pass for him to pretend the last weeks of your life hadn’t just collapsed in on themselves.

But you felt your mom’s hand on your shoulder as she passed you to start clearing plates, and you couldn’t.

You didn’t have the energy.

So instead, you just walked. Quietly. Past your father still sipping coffee. Past Seungmin, who followed behind you like nothing was wrong.

Out of the room. Out of the comfort. Into the chill of a mid-morning that felt far too bright for how heavy you were inside.

-

By the time Roan had his shoes on and his little arms were shrugging into his backpack, Seungmin was already in the driver’s seat of the car, fiddling with the mirror like this was his routine. Like you were just an accessory to it all.

You opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, not looking at him.

Roan climbed into the back and buckled himself in, already humming some melody he’d picked up from a show. Oblivious. Happy.

You hated how hard that made everything.

Seungmin started the car. Silence sat between you like an unwanted guest.

You stared out the window, jaw tight, hand fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve the way you always did when you were overwhelmed.

“You still do that,” Seungmin said softly, glancing at you. “That little fidget thing with your sleeve.”

You didn’t respond.

He let out a soft breath and turned his eyes back to the road.

“I just want to talk,” he said, voice lower now, just for you. “After we drop him off. Just… please.”

You still didn’t answer.

Because the truth was, you weren’t sure you had anything left to say.

And yet, you knew as the school building came into view, as Roan waved goodbye and ran up the steps that you'd be forced to speak to him.

And you'd have to face the wreckage of everything he'd broken… with no one left to protect you from it.

-

The ride back from Roan’s school was quieter than the one there.

Not in the peaceful, comfortable way quiet sometimes is but heavy, thick, like the air had turned to smoke. You kept your eyes on the road ahead, even though Seungmin was the one driving. You didn’t speak. You didn’t look at him.

And he didn’t say anything at first either. Like he was waiting, testing how long he could sit in your silence before cracking it open.

The school faded behind you. The morning light had warmed into late morning, hazy and humid, the trees lining the side streets full of buzzing cicadas. You wanted to disappear into the sound. Dissolve.

When he finally spoke, his voice was too soft. Too rehearsed.

“You’re really going to let everything go, just like that?”

You didn’t respond. Your gaze stayed fixed out the window, watching a woman walk her dog past a florist you used to visit with your mom. Everything about this place was stitched into your childhood, and now it felt like a cage.

“You’re not even going to try?” Seungmin said again, more firmly this time. “After everything we’ve built together?”

That made you laugh dry and bitter.

“Built?” you muttered. “We didn’t build anything. You bulldozed it.”

He gripped the wheel tighter. You could see the white of his knuckles.

“Come on,” he said, glancing at you. “Don’t let all these years just go to waste because of this—this thing.”

You turned slowly. Looked at him. Really looked at him.

“This thing?” you repeated, voice dangerously low. “You mean you sleeping with someone else?”

His jaw clenched. “You always twist things—”

“I always—?”

“Roan’s hurting,” he cut in. “And you don’t even see it. You moved him two hours away from home. From me. From everything he knows. And for what? A fight?”

Your eyes widened. Your mouth opened, then shut, then opened again because you were too stunned to even choose the right reaction.

“It wasn’t a fight, Seungmin. You cheated. You lied. You broke every ounce of trust I gave you, and now you’re sitting here calling it a fight?”

He turned into your parents’ driveway too fast, jerking the car slightly. His voice raised for the first time, sharp and impatient.

“Get over it already! You’re acting like I murdered someone!”

You stared at him, breathing hard, heart beating like a drum in your throat.

“You should’ve never come back.”

Your voice wasn’t loud. It was quiet. Dead cold.

You got out of the car before he could say anything else.

You didn’t slam the door. You didn’t scream. You just walked back into the house like you’d walked into a burning building because at least then you could pretend the smoke choking you was from fire and not from everything else he’d left behind.

-

You didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day.

Not when you passed in the hallway. Not when Roan asked the three of you to play Uno together and you politely declined. Not when your mother insisted on putting Seungmin’s favorite tea in front of him at dinner and asked, with a too-bright smile, how he liked working at the firm now.

You didn’t speak when your father nodded along like a quiet referee, reading the air and choosing silence. You didn’t speak when Roan leaned on his father’s shoulder while watching cartoons, clearly desperate for things to feel normal again.

You only spoke to Roan. And even then, your voice was gentler than it usually was, like you were trying not to let any bitterness bleed through. You didn’t want him to absorb it. He was seven. He deserved peace. He didn’t ask for any of this.

The sun went down slow, casting a warm gold through your old bedroom window. You’d cleaned the space up a little, stacked a few of your old books on the nightstand, put a photo of Roan in a small frame. You were brushing your hair in front of the vanity, watching the soft reflection of yourself, looking more exhausted than you’d ever allowed yourself to admit.

You didn’t hear her at first.

Your mother’s knock was light, almost timid, as if sensing the tension even through the closed door. She was standing there in her robe, a small stack of folded blankets cradled against her chest, her eyes warm.

“Is Roan asleep?” she asked, already stepping halfway into the room.

Seungmin, who had been sitting silently on the edge of the bed scrolling through his phone answered first.

“Just checked on him. Out like a light.”

Your mother beamed. “He looked so happy today. I think seeing you really lifted his mood,” she said, directing the comment at Seungmin.

You rolled your eyes and looked back at your reflection, brushing slowly, carefully, ignoring them.

“I brought a few extra blankets,” your mom said, walking over to the foot of the bed. “It’s supposed to get cold tonight.”

You didn’t answer. Just kept brushing.

But then she added, breezily, “Thought you two might want them, since you’ll be sharing the bed tonight.”

The brush stilled in your hand.

Your reflection didn’t blink.

You turned your head slightly, unsure if you heard her correctly. “What?”

“Just like old times,” she went on, either not noticing your reaction or choosing to ignore it. “The bed’s plenty big. I know it’s been a hard few weeks, but maybe some closeness would help.”

You opened your mouth to speak to correct her, to set the record straight, but Seungmin spoke first.

“Thank you,” he said smoothly, before you could even draw breath. “That’s really kind of you.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. You turned, eyes burning into him.

Your mother just smiled. “Of course, honey. Goodnight, both of you.”

She left. Just like that. Blankets at the foot of the bed, hopeful energy lingering in the air like cheap perfume.

The door clicked softly behind her.

You turned to him. “Why the hell would you say yes to that?”

Seungmin shrugged, like it was nothing. “I didn’t want to make it weird.”

You laughed once, sharp and humorless. “It’s already weird, Seungmin.”

He didn’t answer. Just pulled one of the blankets over his lap and leaned back against the headboard, like he hadn’t just signed himself into your space for the night.

You stared at him, heart pounding, fingers still tangled in your brush handle.

The air between you was thicker now, like every truth you couldn’t say had taken physical form and was slowly filling the room.

You turned away, back to the mirror, and continued brushing slowly, methodically because it was the only thing you could do that didn’t feel like drowning.

And behind you, in the reflection, Seungmin sat in silence.

Still acting like this wasn’t a nightmare of his own making.

You slept on the edge of the bed like you were afraid the mattress might betray you, lying stiff and still, your spine nearly aligned with the seam of the bed’s edge. The line between you and Seungmin was vast, even if physically it was only a few feet. You felt every inch of it.

The silence stretched.

There was no comfort in the dark, only the constant, low hum of your thoughts. You could hear the subtle sounds of the house, the creak of pipes, a faint breeze against the windowpane, the occasional scuff of a car passing by too late into the night. Roan’s soft breathing from the next room.

And then, from the other side of the bed, Seungmin’s voice.

“I’ll stay on my side,” he said softly, like it was some olive branch. “I’m not trying to make things worse.”

You didn’t answer. Your hand was curled near your chest, tangled in the fabric of the blanket.

So here you were.

Lying inches from a man you no longer recognized, in a room that used to belong to someone you no longer were.

He didn’t speak again.

Eventually, you turned your back to him. Not because it helped, but because it was the only direction you could face without breaking.

You woke before your alarm.

Roan was already moving in the next room, his usual morning rustling of trying to pick an outfit, deciding which Pokémon socks were lucky, which book he wanted to bring in his backpack. He called your name once and you responded quickly, happy for the excuse to leave the room.

You slipped out of bed carefully, barely glancing at the other side.

Seungmin was still asleep, or at least pretending to be.

You didn’t care.

Downstairs, the smell of toast and eggs filled the kitchen again, your mom moving around like she had a thousand good intentions tucked into her apron. She smiled at you like nothing was wrong.

You could feel your chest tighten.

“I was thinking,” she said, flipping something on the stove, “you two should take Roan to the park after school. You know, spend a little time as a family. He looked so happy yesterday.”

You shook your head almost immediately. “I can’t. I have an appointment.”

“An appointment?” she asked, turning her head. “For what?”

“Just… something I scheduled a while ago,” you lied. “It’s nothing big, just something I have to do.”

She nodded, still smiling. “Okay, well maybe tomorrow, then.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you poured Roan a cup of juice and distracted yourself with folding his lunch napkin.

“Also,” you added, casually, “I’ll take Roan to school today. Alone.”

She looked at you, blinking. “Oh?”

“Seungmin probably has work to catch up on,” you said, smoothly now. “Emails, meetings, all of it. He shouldn’t miss any more days than he already has.”

There was a pause. Barely half a beat, but it said everything. Your mother wanted to say something, something hopeful, something intrusive, but Seungmin had just walked into the room, ruffling Roan’s hair.

You kept your expression neutral.

“I told Mom I’d take Roan this morning,” you said to him directly, watching his reaction. “You probably have work.”

He opened his mouth, hesitating ready to argue. You could see it. But then he caught your look.

Tired. Unshakable. Empty.

He sighed and relented.

“Yeah. I’ve got a few emails to catch up on. Go ahead.”

Roan didn’t protest. He was too busy trying to zip his backpack and carry his lunchbox at the same time.

But on the drive to school, it surfaced.

“I like it when Dad drives me,” Roan said, swinging his legs in the seat. “He talks to me about music and lets me pick the songs.”

You gripped the steering wheel tighter but didn’t respond.

“I wish both of you took me to school,” he said after a moment. “Like yesterday.”

You reached for his hand at the red light. Squeezed it gently.

“I know, baby.”

It was all you could say.

At the school, you walked him up to the entrance, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder. You hugged him tighter than usual too tight, probably, but he didn’t complain. He just laughed and wrapped his arms around your neck.

“I’ll be good,” he said brightly.

“I know you will.”

He waved once, twice, and then he disappeared through the front doors.

You hadn’t even fully turned around when you walked straight into someone, solid and warm and familiar.

You let out a startled yelp, stumbling slightly.

A deep, amused laugh.

“Oh gosh,” you breathed, hand clutching your chest. “Are you serious?”

Changbin grinned down at you, eyes crinkling with laughter.

“You should’ve seen your face,” he said, still chuckling. “I think I might’ve scared you half to death.”

You lightly smacked his chest. “You did! Are you stalking me?”

“Only mildly,” he teased. “Nah, I just drop off Yuna a little later on Wednesdays. Lucky me.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling despite yourself. The sharp edge in your chest softened for the first time that day.

He looked good. The same, and not the same. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing the faint veins of his forearms, and he had that same relaxed, easygoing charm that used to be your undoing when you were seventeen.

He looked like a breath you’d forgotten how to take.

“I’ve been meaning to see you again,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t get your number at the school meeting. I wasn’t sure if you were avoiding me or just busy.”

“Maybe a little of both,” you said honestly, folding your arms but not stepping away.

He smiled again, this time softer.

“Look,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “I don’t want to make anything weird. I just thought it’d be nice to catch up. You know — talk. Laugh. Drink something stronger than school cafeteria coffee. My treat, obviously.”

You hesitated, lips parting, unsure what to say.

Because you hadn’t laughed genuinely laughed in weeks. Because you hadn’t had anyone look at you like you in even longer. Because part of you hated how much that brief moment the banter, the touch, the easiness made something flutter low in your stomach.

“Coffee?” he added, sensing your hesitation. “Or food. I know a great place just off Main. I’m flexible. Just say the word.”

You looked at him, still smiling at you like there wasn’t a single crack in your armor he couldn’t see and wouldn’t touch unless you let him.

Something in you shifted.

“I’ll think about it,” you said quietly.

He nodded, backing up slowly with both hands raised. “That’s all I’m asking.”

And then he winked.

“See you around, heartbreaker.”

You didn’t walk any farther.

You’d barely made it halfway across the school parking lot when the thought hit you like a brick to the chest, the image of your front door waiting to open to more of the same. Your mother’s voice sweet and persistent, urging you to see the good in your marriage, like the betrayal was just a lapse in Seungmin’s character, not a rupture in yours. Seungmin’s voice, too, soft and heavy and manipulative pulling on history and guilt and the shared weight of Roan’s little heart like it was enough to glue together something already cracked beyond recognition.

You couldn’t do it. Not this morning.

Your hands were trembling not from fear, but from the tiredness of having to hold everything together all the time. Of being careful. Measured. Quiet.

So you turned around. Fast.

You spotted him just in time Changbin was a few steps ahead, walking down the sidewalk toward what seemed to be his car, his stride relaxed. He hadn't noticed you yet.

“Changbin!” you called out, a little breathless, your voice slicing through the low hum of early morning traffic.

He turned.

His brows lifted at the sight of you jogging slightly toward him, something like concern flashing in his face for a moment, until you caught up, and he saw your expression: flushed from decision, not panic.

“Everything okay?” he asked gently, but not intrusively.

You took a breath. Then another.

“Do you have time now?” you asked, voice lower this time. “To… get that coffee. Or food. Or whatever you offered. I just—” you paused, looking away. “I don’t really want to go home yet.”

He didn’t ask any questions.

No why, no what's going on, no are you okay.

Instead, he just smiled. A little crooked, a little soft. Familiar.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “I’ve got time.”

He pointed at his car, a black, slightly beat-up sedan in the corner of the lot, the kind of vehicle that had seen long nights and longer road trips, mismatched air fresheners and glove compartments filled with half-written lyrics.

“I’ll drive?”

You felt something ease inside your chest as you smiled back. “Okay.”

You slipped into the passenger seat, tugging the seatbelt across your lap with a click. He tossed his backpack into the back seat before climbing in beside you, one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the AC vent. He turned to you as he started the engine.

“So,” he asked, “want to try that new place I mentioned? Or…”

You hesitated.

There was something about this moment, something tender and loose and unfamiliar in its comfort. You stared out the window for a beat, then turned to him.

“Do you remember that diner we used to go to?” you asked. “The one near the overpass? We used to ditch class and get pancakes.”

His face lit up. “With the cracked jukebox and the chalkboard menus? That place?”

You nodded, the corner of your mouth twitching into the smallest smile. “Yeah. That one.”

His eyes softened. “I haven’t been there in forever. Still smells like syrup and fryer grease and bad decisions, probably.”

You laughed, and it surprised you how natural it sounded. How easy.

“That’s where I want to go,” you said.

“You got it,” he replied, throwing the car into drive. “Nostalgia breakfast. Coming right up.”

He winked at you, and this time, you let the flutter in your stomach stay.

-

The bell above the door chimed gently as you both stepped into the diner, the soft smell of syrup and coffee wrapping around you like an old blanket. It was still there, that same sticky warmth, the gentle hum of classic rock spilling faintly from the speakers, and the low murmur of early patrons with their morning mugs and newspapers.

You both slid into a booth near the back, the one that curved along the window, the same one you used to claim every time you skipped class and wanted to pretend you were older than sixteen. Changbin sat across from you, his hands still calloused but somehow gentle-looking as he grabbed a menu he probably didn’t need.

You didn’t need one either.

“It smells the same,” you muttered, eyes scanning the room. “Like grease and… rebellion.”

Changbin laughed. “And questionable hygiene.”

You laughed with him, the sound coming easily now. Lighter.

A waitress came by familiar face, maybe a little older than you both, her name tag crooked and took your orders without fuss. Two coffees, two plates of pancakes, a side of bacon for him, fruit for you, like muscle memory.

After she left, Changbin leaned back against the booth, stretching his arm across the back like he used to when you were younger though now, he wasn’t trying to flirt. Just relax. Be.

“I still can’t believe that was actually you,” he said, shaking his head. “Like, at the school. If it wasn’t you, and I said something stupid like ‘you still do that fidgety hand thing,’ I would’ve had to change my name and leave town.”

You snorted into your coffee. “Would’ve been hilarious though.”

“I don’t think my ego could’ve taken it,” he teased, grinning.

You took a sip of coffee, watching him as he stared out the window for a second. The sun hit just right, the gold catching on the edge of his jaw, in the little crow’s feet near his eyes, the slight exhaustion in his frame. Life had happened to him, clearly. It had happened to you too. But in this booth, it felt like the world slowed down.

You ended up talking about high school. Not the painful parts, not yet, but the funny, absurd pieces. The time you both got caught making out behind the gym during prom. The time you threw a soda can at someone’s car because they catcalled you and Changbin wanted to defend your honor. The camping trip where you two shared a blanket and he screamed at a raccoon in the middle of the night.

“That raccoon was at least 30 pounds,” he insisted.

“It was five, tops.”

“It had rabies in its eyes.”

You laughed again. A real, full laugh.

He was halfway through his second pancake, slicing through the stack with syrup-covered enthusiasm, when he suddenly froze. His fork hovered in midair, dripping slightly.

“Oh my god,” he said through a mouthful. “I just remembered something.”

You raised an eyebrow. “This could go in so many directions.”

“No, no, listen,” he said, swallowing his bite dramatically. “Do you remember… Seungmin?”

Your heart stilled. Like it had tripped over itself and forgot how to keep beating for just a moment.

“Kim Seungmin.”

Of course you remembered. Of course you did.

But Changbin didn’t know. He had no idea.

You stiffened slightly. “Yeah…” you said cautiously. “I remember.”

He didn’t notice the way your fingers curled around your cup, the way you leaned just slightly back, preparing for the hit.

“Geez,” he muttered with a grin, shaking his head. “I hated that guy.”

Your head snapped up.

“I was so jealous back then,” he continued, chuckling. “Everyone knew Seungmin had the biggest crush on you. Dude would always hang around after classes, try to sit near you, act like you and I weren’t even dating. Like… you were just this free agent waiting for someone better.”

He laughed a little bitterly at the memory, like it didn’t actually sting anymore, just existed.

“I mean, I get it,” he added. “You were… you. You were always so bright. People wanted to be around you. I didn’t blame him. I just wanted to punch him.”

You finally breathed. A slow, careful breath. It was now or never.

“Changbin,” you said quietly.

He looked up.

You hesitated for only a beat. Then:

“Seungmin is my husband.”

The fork in his hand froze. Slowly, he set it down.

He blinked.

Once. Twice.

“You’re serious?” he asked, voice lower.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He sat back, visibly trying to process. “You… married him?”

You didn’t answer with words at first. Just gave him a look that said, Yes. It's as complicated as it sounds.

And maybe because this was Changbin, and he knew you too well, he didn’t laugh. Didn’t react with some big dramatic sigh or over-the-top comment.

He just let out a quiet, “Wow.”

You looked down at your plate, picked at a strawberry.

“After you left,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I was in a bad place. I think you knew that. And he… he stayed. He was always there. At first just a friend, then someone who made me laugh again. It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t even romantic at first. I just… I needed someone. And he was there.”

You glanced at him, trying to gauge his expression. It was unreadable, his lips slightly parted, brows furrowed in that faint way they always did when he was really listening.

“We ended up going to the same college,” you continued. “Out of town. Different majors, but… he stuck around. And somewhere between trying to get over you and trying to survive being on my own, I fell in love with him.”

You looked down again. Your voice cracked slightly. “We got married after college. Roan came a year later.”

For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

Then Changbin let out a soft breath and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

“Can I say something?”

You nodded.

“I’m not mad,” he said gently. “I don’t have a right to be. I left. I hurt you. And Seungmin… I guess he didn’t.”

You looked at him. “He did. Just… not right away.”

Understanding flickered across his face.

You didn’t need to explain more. Not yet.

“He cheated,” you whispered.

Changbin’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak.

You laughed bitterly. “Everyone thinks we’re just going through a phase. A rough patch. My parents love him. Roan loves him. And I’m the only one who knows the truth. And now you.”

He stared at you, like he was searching for something in your eyes.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, after a pause.

“I don’t need you to say anything,” you said, voice small.

“But I want to,” he said.

You looked at him.

“I want to be here,” he said simply. “Even if it’s just as someone who listens.”

You smiled a slow, aching thing. “Thank you.”

And for the first time in a long, long time maybe since before everything shattered, you felt like someone really saw you.

Not as Seungmin’s wife. Not just Roan’s mother.

Just you.

And it felt like hope.

-

By the time the soft clinking of cutlery had dwindled, and the hush of the post-rush lull settled over the diner, you noticed the waitress throwing not-so-subtle glances your way. Her polite smile was stretched thin now, the kind of weary look that screamed, You two have been here way too long, please let me clean your table and go home at a decent hour.

Changbin caught it too, offering a sheepish laugh as he polished off the last sip of his now lukewarm coffee. “I think we’re being evicted.”

You sighed, smiling reluctantly. “Feels like old times. Except now we’re overstaying because of emotional baggage instead of teenage hormones.”

He grinned. “Emotional baggage is way more interesting.”

You reached into your bag for your wallet, reflexive and automatic. “Let me at least get half —”

He was already sliding his card across the table to the waitress, not even looking your way. “Don’t start. I invited you.”

“No, but—”

“I said I wanted to treat you.” He smirked, leaning back with exaggerated smugness. “You can get the next one.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You just want me to feel obligated to see you again.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Exactly.”

You stared at him. A beat passed. Then you chuckled, the sound quiet and honest.

Outside, the light had softened into that almost-golden afternoon hue, the kind that makes everything look washed in nostalgia. When you stepped out of the diner and into the sunlight, you blinked against it, stretching your arms above your head with a groan that came from deep in your chest. Changbin walked beside you, keys twirling between his fingers.

It wasn’t until you were halfway to the school, laughter still lingering in your chest from some half-told story about his failed attempt at teaching Yuna how to ride a bike that you realized the time.

“Oh shit,” you gasped, sitting upright in the passenger seat. “It’s pickup time. Like right now pickup time.”

Changbin’s eyes widened. “You said it was later!”

“I thought it was!” you said, quickly grabbing your phone and checking the clock. “I didn’t realize we’d been sitting there for five hours! You were too interesting.”

He grinned. “Flattered.”

“You shouldn’t be,” you snapped, panicked, swatting his arm. “Drive!”

He did. Fast enough to make it right as the trickle of students began flooding out the school gates, colorful backpacks bouncing, parents chatting in clusters by the sidewalk. You both barely made it out of the car when familiar voices caught your attention.

“Mom!”

You turned just in time to see Roan running toward you cheeks flushed, his bag half zipped and bouncing against his back. His hair stuck to his forehead from play, and his voice cracked with excitement.

Right behind him, Yuna’s squeal echoed as she launched herself at Changbin, who caught her with ease, laughing as he staggered slightly from the force of her affection.

Roan flung his arms around your waist, and you caught him, bending slightly to hug him properly.

“Hey, baby,” you said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “How was school?”

“I drew a frog with wings!” he announced proudly. “And Ms. Lee said it was very imaginative.”

“Of course she did,” you laughed. “That sounds very… avant-garde.”

He nodded solemnly, then tilted his head. “Where’s dad?”

The question hit you like a soft thud. Not painful. But heavy.

You hesitated for half a second before answering, “He’s at home. He had work.”

Roan frowned slightly but didn’t say more. He leaned into your side, rubbing his eyes with a little yawn.

“Hey,” Changbin’s voice came from behind you, softer now. “Thanks for today. It really… meant a lot.”

You turned around, finding him with Yuna still perched on his hip, her arms looped around his neck as she played with the ends of his hair. Her small eyes fluttered sleepily.

“I should be thanking you,” you said, adjusting Roan’s backpack on your shoulder. “I really needed to… not be home for a while.”

He watched you carefully, his face gentling. “You didn’t have to explain.”

You smiled weakly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Still.”

There was a pause. A tiny, breath-held moment.

“I didn’t get your number,” he said suddenly, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his phone. “And if I don’t ask now, I’ll probably regret it for another ten years.”

You laughed under your breath. “Smooth.”

He passed you the phone, and you typed in your number, pausing only once before hitting save under your name.

“Done,” you said.

He smiled this time, quieter. “Maybe next time… drinks? A real dinner? My treat, again. Unless you really want to fight me over the bill.”

You snorted. “Oh, I will.”

“I’m counting on it.”

And then Roan tugged at your hand, murmuring that he was tired and wanted to go home. You nodded, your heart heavy again but full in a different way now.

Changbin and Yuna waved as you started walking toward your car, and Roan ever the polite boy waved back, yelling a cheerful, “Bye, Yuna! Bye Yuna’s Dad!”

Yuna waved so hard her ponytail bobbed with the motion. “Bye Roan! Bye Roan’s Mom!”

You paused at that, warmth spreading in your chest despite yourself. You looked back just once.

Changbin was still watching you. Not staring. Just… present.

And for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel like you were walking alone.

-

You smiled the entire ride home. Not a loud, ecstatic grin, but that quiet, involuntary kind of smile, the one that lingers at the corners of your lips long after a warm memory. Changbin had made you laugh today, not just once, but more times than you could count. Honest laughter, too the kind that didn't feel forced or coated in guilt. For a little while, it was easy to forget how heavy everything else was. It was easier to feel like yourself again.

But the moment your front door creaked open, reality swept back in like a bitter wind.

The sound hit first: low murmuring, the subtle clink of bottles, a laugh that didn't belong to you. It was Seungmin’s, quiet, practiced. Familiar. Too familiar. Then your father's gruff voice, amused and relaxed in a way that made your skin prickle. As you stepped inside, the weight came crashing down again.

There, in the living room, Seungmin sat next to your father both of them holding beers, the kind your dad only pulled out when he was feeling particularly welcoming. Seungmin's sleeves rolled up in a way that once made you feel comforted. Now it made your stomach turn.

Your mother was curled up in her armchair with a book resting open on her lap. She looked up the second you stepped in, her eyes lighting up like she'd just spotted good news walking through the door.

“There you are!” she chirped, her voice far too cheerful for how tight your chest had suddenly become. “Where were you? Seungmin’s been so worried. He was about to go out and look for you.”

The mention of his name, that carefully woven narrative of him being “worried,” instantly soured your mood. You hadn’t texted. You hadn’t wanted to. You’d had one afternoon, just one, where you could breathe without his voice tugging at your every memory, and now you were being pulled right back under the water.

Roan ran past you before you could say a word. “Dad!” he squealed, flinging himself into Seungmin’s arms with no hesitation. “I drew a frog with wings today and Ms. Lee loved it!”

You stood frozen in the entryway, your smile long gone now, watching Seungmin smile as he ruffled Roan’s hair, responding with a soft, “Of course she did, bud. That’s awesome.”

Your mom turned to you again, brows lifting. “Honey? You alright? Why didn’t you come home after drop-off?”

You felt the muscles in your jaw tighten. The question felt too pointed, too soon. You hadn’t even set down your keys yet. Your pulse rose with the sudden sensation of being cornered.

“I just… needed some air,” you said flatly. “Ran some errands. Got a headache.”

“Oh no,” your mom said, eyes full of concern now. “You should rest. You look pale.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I think I will. I’m going to lie down.”

There was no room for more conversation. You turned on your heel, making a beeline for your room, practically choking on the tightness in your throat. The moment you were inside, you shut the door behind you not hard, but firm. It wasn’t a slam. It was a boundary.

You slipped off your shoes and collapsed onto your bed without turning on the light. You lay on your side, staring blankly at the wall, your back to the door. You hadn’t even bothered to change clothes. The ache in your chest had returned, dull and gnawing, the contrast between now and the afternoon with Changbin cutting deep.

You heard the knock a few minutes later. Not loud just a gentle knock, followed by the door creaking open.

Of course. It was him.

“Hey,” Seungmin’s voice was soft. Carefully rehearsed. He closed the door behind him, and you could feel his eyes trying to find you in the dim room.

You didn’t move.

“Heard you weren’t feeling well,” he added, as if that excused the way he came in uninvited. “I just wanted to check.”

Still, you said nothing. You didn’t need to. The silence was thick enough.

“Where were you?” he finally asked, the first question that wasn’t wrapped in false concern. Just a little more pointed. A little less kind.

You still didn’t answer. You stayed on your side, back to him. Your arm folded under your head, breath steady. But he knew you weren’t sleeping.

A sigh. A pause. The shift of the mattress behind you as he stepped closer, probably expecting some sort of response, a confrontation, anything.

“Look,” he began, his voice tightening. “I’m just trying to talk. You can’t keep shutting me out like this.”

Still nothing. You stared at the wall, heart slowly rising into your throat again. If you opened your mouth, you might say something too honest. Too cruel.

Seungmin sighed again, louder this time. “So this is it? This is how we’re going to do this now?”

You turned slowly, finally, to face him. Your voice was quiet, but it was hard-edged. “How we’re going to do this? You don’t get to walk in here and pretend like we’re on the same team.”

His jaw tensed. “I’ve been trying. You’re the one who left.”

You sat up, your hands trembling in your lap. “You cheated.”

His eyes flashed with something guilt, maybe, or frustration. “We had a fight. We were already falling apart.”

You flinched. “And your solution to that was to sleep with your coworker?”

“That’s not fair—”

“No, Seungmin,” you cut him off, your voice rising, “What’s not fair is you coming here, acting like you’re some loving husband, winning my parents over, making them think this is just a bump in the road. You know what you're doing.”

“You didn’t correct them either,” he shot back. “You’re letting them believe it too.”

You hated how easily he turned the blame. How calm he tried to stay when you were crumbling. It made you feel insane like you were the one unraveling in a perfectly tidy room.

“You should’ve never come,” you muttered, standing now, pacing. “I told you not to. I told you this isn’t your home anymore.”

He looked at you with a wounded kind of disbelief. “You’re really willing to throw away years because of one mistake?”

“One mistake?” you scoffed, incredulous. “That’s how you talk about it? You made me feel like I was crazy, Seungmin. You came home late, you lied to my face for months. And then you had the audacity to tell me you still loved me after. What kind of love is that?”

“I do love you,” he said softly, almost defeated.

And for a moment, the smallest flicker you saw the man you had once believed in. The one who held your hand in college hallways, who fell asleep with his head on your stomach as you read aloud your thesis. The man who cried in the hospital when Roan was born.

But that man cheated. That man let you cry alone the night you packed your bags. That man chose himself when you needed him the most.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered. “Not right now.”

He nodded, reluctantly stepping back, but he didn’t leave without the final blow.

“Roan misses you. The you we used to be. Just… think about him before you throw everything away.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He slipped out the door and closed it gently behind him.

You sat on the edge of the bed long after he left, the ache crawling back into your chest like it had never left.

The only lightness in your body now was the faint echo of laughter in a diner booth. A brief moment where you didn’t feel like a wife. Or an ex-wife. Or a disappointment.

Just a woman. Who used to love pancakes. Who used to skip class. Who used to dream.

And maybe, just maybe was learning how to again.

You liked taking Roan to school. It was the one part of the day that still felt soft, simple. His tiny hand in yours, the way he talked the entire way about his drawings, or what he thought the cafeteria would serve for lunch today. It helped you start the morning with something solid, something good before the noise of your fractured reality crept back in.

Today, you made sure he got into class okay, even lingered longer than usual near the door as he turned to wave at you. You waved back, a small smile tugging at your lips.

And then you felt a poke.

Right at your side.

You jumped so hard you let out a yelp, loud enough that a few parents turned to look and immediately whipped around to find the only person who’d have the audacity to poke you like that.

Changbin.

You immediately slapped his chest with a hand, playfully but firm. “You really have to stop doing that,” you huffed, glaring at him.

He was already laughing, loud and shameless. “I live for it. You should see your face—every time!”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you.

He fell into step beside you as you started walking away from the school gates.

“I didn’t realize you walked here,” he said after a few beats, glancing around the sidewalk like he was piecing it together.

“Yeah. Just needed the air.”

“Need a ride back?” he asked, casual, like it wasn’t already obvious that’s what he was going to offer.

You let out a quiet sigh through your nose. “You’re relentless.”

He grinned. “That’s a yes.”

And it was.

You followed him to his car, sliding into the passenger seat like you had yesterday only this time, it felt less like a spontaneous escape and more like… routine. Something easy. Something welcome.

The ride home was quiet at first, not awkward, just easy like neither of you felt the need to fill the space. But halfway there, he spoke.

“You know,” he began, eyes on the road, “you can talk to me. Anytime. About anything. You don’t have to, obviously. But just… I’m around.”

You turned your head slightly, watching his profile. The curve of his jaw. The soft worry at the corner of his mouth.

“I know,” you said, quietly. “Thank you.”

He nodded once but didn’t look at you. “I don’t know what happened with you and… him. I’m not prying. But I can see it in your eyes. You’re tired.”

There was no judgment in his voice. Just quiet, heartfelt observation.

Your throat tightened at that. Because he wasn’t wrong. You were tired. Tired in your bones. Tired in your mind. Tired of pretending.

You turned toward the window, blinking fast. “I am.”

He didn’t press for more. Just drove.

You were already nearing your neighborhood when he let out a soft laugh and said, “Do your parents still hate me?”

You looked at him sharply, surprised, and then laughed, really laughed for the first time since the diner.

“Oh,” you said between giggles. “You remember that?”

“How could I forget? Your dad used to literally grunt when I came over. I thought he was going to bury me in the backyard.”

“To be fair,” you said, covering your smile with your hand, “you did sneak into my room at 2 AM and set off the fire alarm trying to microwave nachos.”

He shrugged. “Worth it. Those nachos were killer.”

You shook your head, still laughing. “Don’t take it personal. They were overprotective. I was their only kid.”

“I’m not taking it personal,” he said, mock offended. “But do they still hate me?”

You gave that some real thought, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“I don’t think so,” you said. “Honestly, I think they barely remember. You’re ancient history.”

“Ouch,” he gasped. “And here I thought I left a lasting impression.”

“You left a mess in my kitchen, not an impression,” you teased.

He was still chuckling when he glanced at you and asked, “Do they like Seungmin?”

Your smile faded slightly, but it stayed on your face out of habit.

“Yeah,” you said, trying to make it sound lighter than it felt. “They… treat him like he’s their own son.”

He looked genuinely scandalized. “Seriously?”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Don’t take that personal either.”

But it lingered, that realization. That your parents had accepted Seungmin with open arms in ways they never had with anyone else. In some ways, it made everything harder.

You were still thinking about it when he pulled into your driveway.

As he parked, he turned to you with a grin. “Don’t forget. You still owe me drinks.”

You groaned. “Right. You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope. I’m petty.”

You were still laughing when you unbuckled and stepped out of the car… only for your breath to catch in your throat the moment you saw who was standing on the porch.

Seungmin.

Arms crossed. Shoulders stiff. His expression thunderous.

He didn’t move when he saw you. Just stared. A storm in his eyes. His gaze shifted briefly to Changbin, and you swore something in his jaw clicked.

Changbin, still in the driver’s seat, gave a cheerful wave through the open window. “See you, mystery woman.”

You smiled faintly and waved back. “Thanks for the ride.”

He gave a wink, and then he was gone, the car pulling away, tires quiet on the pavement.

You barely had time to turn toward the porch when Seungmin snapped.

“Who the hell was that?”

You blinked.

His voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp, seething. Cold.

You climbed the steps slowly. “It was just someone I know.”

“Someone you know?” His voice dropped lower, more dangerous. “That someone just happened to be driving you home? You left early this morning without a word and come back laughing in some guy’s car?”

You kept your face neutral, trying not to react, trying to keep your pulse from flaring.

“I walked Roan to school. I didn’t want to come straight home. I ran into someone and accepted a ride back. That’s it.”

“Is that what this is now?” he asked bitterly. “You disappearing with strangers?”

“He’s not a stranger.”

That was a mistake. You said it too quickly, too defensively.

Seungmin’s expression shifted, suspicion to realization to something uglier.

You could practically see it on his face. The puzzle clicking into place.

But you weren’t about to confirm it. Not now. Not here. The last thing you needed was seungmin exploding on your first heartbreak, in front of your childhood home.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” you said, stepping past him.

“Oh, so now we’re doing that?” he called after you. “You disappear all morning, and I’m just supposed to smile and wave when some guy drops you off at my son’s house?”

You stopped cold.

Spun around.

“This isn’t your house anymore. And he’s not just your son. He’s ours.”

Seungmin’s mouth opened, but you didn’t let him speak. You turned, stormed into the house, and let the screen door swing shut behind you.

You didn’t bother to see if he followed.

Because you were too tired. Too full of guilt and rage and the faint remnants of laughter that still clung to your sleeves like perfume.

And in the quiet that followed, you let yourself remember the way Changbin looked at you.

Like he saw you.

Not the wife. Not the failed marriage. Not the tired mother.

Just… you.

-

You could tell Seungmin was angry.

He hadn’t said anything explicitly, not since earlier on the porch, but his silence wasn’t quiet, it was loud. Too loud. The tension in his jaw, the tight way he held himself when he walked past you in the hallway. The pointed slams of cabinets when he was in the kitchen and you were in the room next to him. You tried not to acknowledge it, but it was there. Like a storm cloud in every corner of the house.

That night, as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror brushing your hair, trying to find some stillness before bed, your phone buzzed on the vanity.

Once.
Then again.

You glanced down. An unknown number.

[Unknown]: Okay so maybe I did rehearse that joke in the car. Rate my delivery, 1-10.

You blinked at the message. And then smiled, a genuine, unguarded smile because you recognized the tone. You didn’t even need the name to know.

You typed back.

"That was a solid 6.5. I’m being generous because you’re funny when you’re smug."

A moment passed.

[Changbin]: Oh, a 6.5? Harsh. I'm wounded. Drinks on you for that.

You laughed under your breath. Actually laughed. That warmth again. That ease you thought you’d lost.

"Fine. Drinks on me. One drink. Don’t push it."

You were still smiling when your mom called your name down the hall.

“Can you come here a sec, sweetie? I wanted to ask about Roan’s weekend plans!”

“Coming!” you shouted back.

You set the phone down on the bed, the screen still lit for a few seconds before dimming. You didn’t notice the shadow in the hallway. The way Seungmin had paused in the doorway, leaned against the frame with crossed arms, eyes locked on your smile.

And when you left the room, your phone buzzed again.

He didn’t mean to do it. Not really.

But his jaw was tight. His stomach was churning.

He walked over and picked up the phone like it offended him just by existing. The way it lit up again with another message.

Roan’s birthday had been your password for years, unchanged. He hadn’t even needed to think twice. Muscle memory.

It unlocked with a soft click.

[Changbin]: So how’s the house of chaos? Still surviving?

He scrolled.

Each message painted a clearer picture than the last, Changbin flirting, light and easy, poking fun, asking you about your favorite drinks, joking that he might actually dress up if it meant seeing you smile again.

Seungmin’s blood pressure spiked.

That was him. That was the guy from the car.

Changbin. Seo Changbin.

He froze.

His chest tightened, and his grip on your phone turned white-knuckled.

Changbin. That Changbin.

High school Changbin. First boyfriend Changbin. The guy Seungmin loathed, not because of some petty rivalry, but because he had what Seungmin wanted first. You.

The guy who laughed too loud, kissed you in the hallways, held your hand like you were already his long before Seungmin had even found the nerve to tell you he liked you. The one you skipped classes with. The one who broke your heart when he left and left just enough space for Seungmin to be there, to pick up the pieces.

And now he was back? Now? When everything between you and Seungmin was still splintering, still bleeding?

He was seething.

When you came back into the room, Seungmin was sitting at the edge of the bed, your phone in his hand. His eyes locked onto you the second you stepped in.

You stopped mid-step, your expression shifting instantly. “What are you doing with my phone?”

He didn’t respond at first. Just lifted it and tilted it slightly in his hand.

“Really?” he said, voice tight. Controlled.

You narrowed your eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“You really came all the way back here, dragging Roan with you, telling everyone you needed space, but really you just wanted to see him again?”

You blinked. “What?”

He turned the phone to show you the screen, Changbin’s messages still open, bright against the dark of the room.

You froze.

“You were with him,” he said. “Changbin. Of all people.”

Your lips parted slightly, more from shock than guilt.

“You read my messages?”

“You left them wide open.”

“That doesn’t mean—” You stopped yourself. “You had no right to go through my phone.”

“No right?” he barked a humorless laugh. “You disappeared this morning, left without a word, came back laughing in some guy’s car, and now you’re texting your ex-boyfriend like you’re sixteen again!”

“He’s not just my ex—”

“I know exactly who he is,” Seungmin snapped. “He’s the guy who dated you while I sat there like an idiot watching it happen. I remember him.”

You clenched your jaw. “And I remember what you did. Don’t throw a tantrum because someone actually makes me feel sane for five minutes.”

His nostrils flared. “So that’s what this is? You’re punishing me. Using this whole situation as an excuse to flirt with an old flame while pretending you’re the victim.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” he spat. “You left. You took Roan. You’ve barely looked me in the eye since. And now it all makes sense—you came back to fix things? No. You came back to relive your past with him.”

You stared at him, chest heaving, feeling heat rush to your face not from shame, but rage.

“I came back because I needed air. I came back because you broke something in me I don’t know how to fix. And I’m trying to survive trying to hold it together for Roan. And if one person out there gives me a second to breathe without feeling like I’m drowning, I’m not going to apologize for that.”

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you with a glare so sharp it could’ve cut straight through your chest.

“I can’t do this with you tonight,” you said quietly, turning away from him.

And this time, when you walked out of the room, he didn’t follow.

//

masterlist. dad!skz series masterlist.

❌proofread

[official taglist: @alisonyus @lenfilms @captainchrisstan @anastasiiiiaaaaa @emilyywhyy @ready2readnwrite lmk if you’d like to be added/removed 😙 ..]

a/n: finally!

[straykeedz-recs]

inexperienced!jeongin who has a big dick but doesn’t know how to use it

inexperienced!jeongin who doesn’t know how to handle it when you tease him, thinking it’s some sort of joke cause there’s no way a girl as pretty as you would even give him a second glance, but his ears are turning red with every flirty stroke of his bicep, and sweat is building up on the back of his neck when you playfully press up against him, practically able to feel your tits tight against his chest, and all he can think about is finally stuffing your pussy full of cock everytime he’s around you. he swears you do it on purpose, especially when your hand brushes against his crotch, giggling like it’s the cutest thing in the world when you find how hard he is - just to mock him for being such a virgin and he hates the way his dick jumps in excitement when you make fun of him

inexperienced!jeongin who’s a little too needy but he’s too insecure to actually ask you for sex, he’ll just resort to pathetically fucking his own fist or some of your used panties that you’ve left laying around. hating himself for being so damn awkward cause he wants nothing more than to feel your pretty pussy suffocate around his cock, to see how deep he can fuck into you until you’re clawing at him and begging him to just give you a minute. but all he can do is muffle the gasps of your name against his fist while tugging on his dick, all his dirty thoughts about you remaining just that, cause he’s just too shy to actually do something about it

inexperienced!jeongin who’s so charmingly awkward, he sometimes says the weirdest shit when he’s between your legs, he can’t look you in the eyes when he’s fucking you, and he doesn’t know where to put his hands when you makeout - wanting nothing more than to dip his fingers under the pretty little skirt you love torture him with to find out what colour panties you’re wearing - he’s just too afraid of you finally finding out how much of a pervert he really is

inexperienced!jeongin who can get off from dry humping alone, there’s so much happening and he can barely keep up - your mouth working his own open, the fingers tugging on his hair, the hot press of your cunt slotting perfectly against his dick - he nuts so embarrassingly fast and can’t even look you in the eyes after :(

inexperienced!jeongin who constantly worries about disappointing you, but if you start begging for his dick he’ll crack so quickly

inexperienced!jeongin who looks so lost the second you get him between your legs, looking up at you for guidance with every unsure touch and stroke to your clit, until you eventually grab the back of his head and shove his face into your cunt

inexperienced!jeongin who’s a fast learner, he immediately starts making out with your pussy like a man starved - he’s messy and a tad sloppy, but he’s trying his best and just wants to please you so you can’t find it in yourself to pull him away

inexperienced!jeongin who gets so carried away while eating you out, groaning and humping the bed and letting out wet little apologies when his teeth accidentally scrape against your folds. sometimes you swear he enjoys it more than you

inexperienced!jeongin who’s a little too greedy, he’ll let you ride his face until he can’t breathe, he’ll chase after your pussy and let out a pathetic whine with next to no shame when you start to lift off him, he’ll fucking get on his hands and knees and beg you for one last taste if he has to 

inexperienced!jeongin who could spend hours worshipping your pussy, completely ignoring the painful twitch of his cock to continue fucking his tongue into you, desperate to coax out more of those pretty moans from your lips. until it’s too late and he’s pulling away only to look down to find he’s made a mess of his briefs, a cum stain starting to form on the mattress he was grinding against for some relief and he’s so humiliated the he’ll lock himself in your bathroom, the sight of his ruined underwear almost mocking him and he’s never felt like a bigger virgin

inexperienced!jeongin who doesn’t know how the hell he’s gonna get through actually fucking you if he’s busting a nut from eating pussy alone

inexperienced!jeongin who can’t for the life of himself stop whimpering and whining nonsense when he’s finally inside of you, cursing under his breath, “fuck, thank you baby. never thought i’d get the chance to fuck a pussy this tight,” and choked whimpers of, “jesus, thank you. thankyouthankyouthankyou,” when he’s about to cum

inexperienced!jeongin who doesn’t know how to multitask, he tries to kiss you when he’s fucking you, but the sloppier and faster his thrusts become and the deeper his cock kisses into your pussy the harder it is for him to actually focus, lips eventually straying away from your lips to whimper and whine pathetically in your ear. and you just find it so cute that he has to stop multiple times and take a deep breath so he doesn’t cum so soon

inexperienced!jeongin who finds it hard to listen, he knows he should prep you a little more for his dick, knows he should stretch you out a little to accommodate him, but he’s just too impatient to finally sink his cock into you to even care. and he fucking loves that you crave him just as much that you don’t either

inexperienced!jeongin who’s addicted to getting his dick sucked, he can’t keep still - fucking his hips up to force his cock deeper down your throat, deep down loving the little whimper you let out when you struggle to take him more, eyes getting glassy and looking at him so cutely but he just can’t help himself from tangling his fingers into your hair and pushing your head down even more

inexperienced!jeongin who can go for hours when you finally break him in, to the point where he’s ready for your pussy, four five times a day

inexperienced!jeongin who texts all his friends, “i had sex today, what did you losers do?” everytime you guys fuck

[straykeedz-recs]

after hours

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

warnings: hyper post-concert bf lix <3, established relationship, cunnilingus, fingering, some pussy love taps, squirting, multiple orgasms, speed bump position hehe, unprotected sex, edging!!!!

a/n: i can’t stop thinking abt felix lol… i’m not usually too confident in writing lix for some reason so please let me know if u like this by leaving a comment or a tag or something, it would mean a lot!

you expected the beep of the lock and the snick of the heavy door, but only because felix made his presence known halfway down the hotel hallway, contagious joy and residual post-show adrenaline manifesting in a booming voice and squawking laugh. you’d be dreading a call from the front desk on your room telephone if you didn’t know the company rents out entire floors. 

felix’s head peeks around the wall slowly, eyes already squinted playfully when he spots you swaddled up in bed with your phone resting on your lap and the television on low. you crook your finger at him. come here, come here, come here. 

he smiles then, sighs happily and shakes his shoulders like he can’t help himself. “hi bubby,” felix trills. “honey-honey. chicken nugget. heeeey.” 

felix is already halfway disrobed by the time he crawls onto the foot of the bed and right to you. his shirt is tossed behind him, shorts too. he plops on top of your blanket cocoon and groans happily, wriggling like a worm until he’s got a long leg thrown over your thighs and his chin propped up on your chest. 

his smile is blinding. he’s all pretty, pearly teeth and starry eyes, an expectant lift to his brows like he can’t wait to hear your voice. 

your own smile works its way to your face. “lixie, hey. how was it?” his hair is slightly damp under your fingers when you card your fingers through it. you can smell his sweat on him, feel it with your fingers, but you can’t find yourself minding too much when you think of just how much fun felix has performing, jumping and playing around on stage and shining star bright. 

“good! fun, you know? stays really cooked it up.” 

“yeah? that’s great, you’re-” you pause to squirm. felix is dense with packed muscle and has bony little elbows. on top of that, he’s warm all over. you’re going to start sweating under this nice comforter. “you’re cooking me up. you’re like, really hot right now.” 

felix’s smile turns mischievous, a little devious around the edges. he laughs then, heh-heh-heh, and digs his chin playfully into the plush skin of your covered breasts. 

“you’re hot. hotter. than me. you’re so hot. wait, wait, can i-?” felix shifts upwards, and his face eclipses the orange-yellow overhead light. you’re nose to nose now. felix bonks his forehead against yours on purpose. that damn smile’s still there; you know the tone of voice that’s going to come out of his mouth before he even speaks. “can i eat your pussy?” 

felix’s gremlin voice isn’t particularly sexy, but you’re ashamed to say that brazenness gets you going every time. 

“i meant warm, shit, like- temperature.” you squirm again. there’s heat pooling in your abdomen, cunt already slicking up from the compact weight on top of you and felix’s never ending boldness and desire. felix is nosing down your cheek — he’s going to stick his tongue in your ear to get you squealing if you don’t give him a better answer soon. “don’t you-? ah, lix, you don’t want to shower first?” 

he makes it to your ear, kisses the shell and sucks the lobe between pretty pink lips. his voice is as deep as the sea when he speaks up again, lips brushing against the sensitive skin. “if i lick you how you like, i bet i could get you to give me one right here.” 

it makes you whimper. he isn’t even lying; it’s true, you bet he could get you squirting on his tongue. it’s dexterous enough, he’s enthusiastic and dedicated and looks like a dream between your legs that it wouldn’t be too much of a challenge. you’re going to question him again, but felix is too busy yanking down the blanket with greedy fingers to get at the waistband of your panties. he’s practically vibrating, thrumming with energy, and it’s making you itch for it too. 

“pervert,” you smile. felix has rucked the comforter and sheets to the foot of the bed, happily taking his rightful space between your legs with a throaty grunt. he nuzzles his nose against the damp gusset of your panties and smiles like a cat after he makes a show of breathing in deep, close-lipped and visibly satisfied because he wants to pull a reaction out of you. 

“fuck yes.” he settles onto his elbows, hooks tiny fingers under the elastic to pull the fabric to the side to get a good look. “look at all that sweetness you’ve made for me.” 

he talks slowly, like he wants the words to sink in. he’s too buzzed to do much else slowly, too pent up. felix leans forward like you’re magnetic, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth before his mouth ever makes contact with your slick cunt. the first lick makes you tense up, the second makes you keen and press the ball of your foot onto his shoulder. you’re wet already, but his tongue makes you wetter, slipping and sliding like he can’t decide where he wants to lick most. so he licks you everywhere — broad, quick. his tongue makes nasty little clicking noises as it bats fitfully against your clit. his sopping wet attention doesn’t feel like much until he focuses there, focuses on sucking that sensitive little button between plump pink lips and fluttering his tongue, bobbing his head with it as he goes. little fingers pull you apart, open you up, and it isn’t long until your legs are shaking where they’re bracketing his head. 

“mmm. so yummy, darling,” he says, lips brushing your swollen ones. “can we… off? wann’em off.” a shaky nod from you is all he needs, yanking your ruined panties down and off as quick as he can, situating himself down once more. he licks you again, presses wet, fleeting kisses to your aching clit to make you jolt and pushes the hood back to feel the bump. he’s playing with it, re-familiarizing the front and back and tip of his tongue with the sensitive ridge that makes you cry for him. it’s electric, his tongue lapping directly at that magical little spot, and your fingers yank that pretty blonde hair to pull him impossibly closer. “uh-huh,” he breathes against you. “uh-huh.” 

you’re grinding on his tongue by the time he pulls away, lips and chin and nose wet with the combination of your juices and his sticky spit. he licks the tips of his fingers and brings them to your clit in a messy rub, wide-open smile on his face when your quaking hips meet his touch. you know he’s up to something when his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek, and you’re only proved correct when he love-taps you lightly right there, quick taptaptaps on your swollen, sensitive clit that make wetness splatter. 

“fu-uuck, wait,” you heave. felix moves his fingers to make room for yours, eyes lighting up like fireworks as you replace his with your own, rubbing your clit frantically before shoving two inside and curling them up. you’re fucking soaked, it sounds disgusting and soppy and slick, but you pull your fingers out almost as quick as they came at the building of burning pressure you start to feel deep down. “fuc- god… rub, rub- oh my, again, lix- mmph!” 

he listens well, desperate to give you both what you want. his fingers take their rightful place at your cunt again, rubbing hard and fast on your clit until you’re fucking shouting, a gush of liquid splashing from between your legs, splattering against your thighs and pubic mound and the mattress underneath with how messily felix is rubbing you off. he sticks his tongue out, lets your squirt drip from his mouth after you give him another gush with a pleased, dazed grin. his hand only stops moving when you clamp your slick legs shut, trapping him right where you’re pulsing. even then he doesn’t stop completely, content to rock his palm in small motions as best he can. 

“you’re like a-”

“stop,” you say, fondly exasperated. god knows what’s going to come out of his mouth after that. 

“-a sprinkler! a water gun. a cute one, i dunno. wanna drink you up all the time, bubby. i fucking love you, i needed that so bad, you know?” 

you think he might be starting to wind down now, all that adrenaline finally wearing off with your help. he’s quick to prove you wrong though — how could you be so silly — lapping up your belly and chest and nuzzling into your neck again, snarling playfully in your ear to make you giggle. felix grinds forward then, rutting his clothed cock into the warmth between your legs that have wrapped themselves around his lithe hips. 

felix pulls away then, kneels between your legs and brings his hand to the front of his underwear to squeeze his cock. he grabs himself over the fabric, polishes it with a rough hand before dragging the head of his clothed cock across your cunt and pressing it to the clenching give of your hole. the fabric would be uncomfortable if it weren’t so sticky wet from his precum. felix ruts forward, uses his thumb to push himself harder against your entrance. he can’t penetrate you like this, but you want it anyway, hips rolling to feel more pressure from his tip. 

“baby,” you coo. felix’s eyes snap to yours. he watches you without blinking, breath ragged as you lift your arms to take off your shirt. you’re naked underneath him now, pinned in place only by your need for him. your nipples pebble under the juxtaposing heat of his stare and the cool hotel room. “felix, baby.” 

“fuck. shit, can we fuck?” he’s breathless and wide-eyed, licking his lips like you’re prey. a frantic nod has felix pushing and prodding at you, helping you roll over onto your stomach and jamming a pillow under your hips when you’re just how he wants you. “over- yes. want you just like this, wanna feel that fucking ass.” 

you can hear the telltale sound of felix sliding his boxers down his thighs and kicking them off, settling contently above you and straddling the backs of your thighs with his own. he bends low enough to suck messy kisses across your shoulders, fumbling with his slick cock and easing himself between the pudge of your closed thighs to find your hole. felix’s breath is hot against your nape when he slips inside, load groan bouncing off of your clammy skin as he sinks as deep as he can go. 

a little hand squeezes your waist, slides to feel the way your hip meets the fatty globe of your arched ass. 

“‘m so worked up,” felix whispers. it borders on a whine, something reedy and earnest and open. he grinds his hips forward once and nearly knocks the back of your head with his teeth, mouth open and panting hotly into your hair. “your- baby, b- fuck, bubby, your fucking cunt.” 

you whine then, clenching down on him to feel him thrust into you again. you reach behind you to squeeze at his ass, and felix takes the hint, pulling back and slamming home to fuck himself tired. 

“wh- yes! yeah, oh my god!” your voice is muffled, cheek smushed into the comforter and bouncing with his rough movement. he’s planted on his elbows, head hanging so low his forehead is pressed to your spine. the clap of his hips against your ass is almost deafening, nasty and slick and loud. 

it doesn’t take long for felix’s rhythm to start stuttering. he gets like this sometimes, all that adrenaline and leftover energy making him even more susceptible to the warm, dizzying call of a good orgasm. his body wants it, chases it by using yours. you’ll help him get there, urging him on with sweet cries of his name and a tight, pulsing cunt to cum deep in. 

“ssshit, shit- not-” felix slams forward so hard it almost knocks the breath out of you and yanks himself out right after, soaked cock bumping your asscheek. his own breath is shaky, his palms are keeping him upright now. “i was- fuck, i was so close. i was so close to cumming already, but i’m not- haaah, i don’t want it to be over this soon.” 

he’s back at it after a few more moments of heavy breathing. felix’s cock fills you up again, pistoning roughly the moment he feels you hugging him. 

“y’r cock is so perfect.” felix growls at that, leaning down to press his weight into you again and feel your body quake. 

you feel it all then, the weight of his chest, his head against yours. felix spreads his legs wider and ruts, slipping a hand underneath your armpit to grab at your shoulder. he’s fucking you so messily that he’s lost his rhythm, but that’s not what he cares about anymore, he’s chasing something you want just as badly, humping his hard cock into your warmth and using your body like he would a doll. and isn’t that what gets to you the most? the hold he has on you, the rabbit of his hips. a toy for him, you’re something warm and sweet and pretty to cum in.

but he doesn’t let himself despite how badly his body wants it. he pulls out again just as his breathing starts to pick up, arching his ass back so that he doesn’t have the chance to rut against yours and cum on accident. what a sight he must be now, angry cock swaying, hole clenching. his balls must be so full for you. 

it shocks a muffled squeal from your throat. he’s not just denying himself, he’s denying you in turn, stealing that perfect cock away when you need it so badly. you can feel yourself gaping slightly, hungry and begging to be plugged back up and fucked to completion. 

his hips lower then and he covers you again. felix humps forward in search of your entrance, grunting pitifully into your hair and nipping at your shoulder when he just can’t get it, finally snaking a hand down to push himself inside. you’re meeting him now, angling your ass to meet his thrusts with weak ones of your own in your desperation to keep him from pulling out again. 

“please don’t stop,” you beg. are there tears in your eyes? maybe it’s sweat, but tears are more plausible, the burning around the corners and the quiver of your chin attests to that. “please don’t- please don’t stop fucking me. felix, fe- lix, pleasepleaseplease, please.” 

another bite to your shoulder, this one harder. you hope it leaves a mark, you hope it’s just as sore as your ass will be tomorrow, the angry smack of his hips making your cheeks heat up and sting raw. felix is hiccuping now, lapping messily at the place he just bit and mumbling nonsense into the skin. 

“cum for me first, bubby,” felix grits. he’s plastered so close to you that it’s easy for him to slip a hand underneath you, but it’s not as easy to touch you as he must have thought. the bounce of your hips doesn’t allow him to rub you as smoothly as he usually does, but the touch is everything regardless, the bump of his fingers, the way they slip and slide over your tender clit. 

your hips buzz when you get there, the first pulsing thud of your orgasm leaves you breathless, but it soon makes you squirm, tightening your already clamped legs and fucking your hips up into the feeling of his fingers and back onto his prodding cock. 

that rhythmic little squeeze of your pussy must be what finally makes him allow himself to follow you off the deep end. 

“i can’t fucking take it anymore,” he growls. you’re so sensitive, and he digs deep like this, his battering cock sends little zings of overstimulation licking right up your spine. “i can’t- take it anymore. please! i’m cumming, shit, fuck, please take my cum. want- want you to have it, oh god, oh god- ‘m cumming, cummi-”

he cuts off with a groan, something beautiful and deep and honest. felix slams fully inside one more time to finally fill you up, frantically wrapping you up in a tight hug as he spills deep, squeezing you in strong, lithe arms until he’s done. 

felix is heavy like this, but you don’t mind. his long hair tickles your cheek. you blow it away, but it comes right back down to rest where it was. 

you both really do need a shower now. a real one, with soap and shampoo and special conditioner. if you’re right — and most of the time you are — felix will be swaying on his feet by the time you pull him out of the shower and back into the bed for several hours of much needed sleep. 

“shit,” felix laughs. it’s sunny and warm against your nape even though the moon is shining high in the sky. “shit, my fucking back.” 

maybe he’ll stay awake long enough for a massage. 

[straykeedz-recs]

IN ALL YOUR PERFECTS

〔 𝒾 〕 How did you get so lucky as to bag one of the hottest men on campus, Sim Jaeyun? That question rings in your head often, even in moments you shouldn't feel insecure. And every answer is too unkind to speak out loud to the beautiful boy stealing hearts on the lacrosse field and upending your world with every smile he gives you. But he can sense something is off, and if you don't explain why soon, you may just be the downfall of everything.

𝐬𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧 𝓍 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 12.2K ⋮ 18+ ⋮ fluff, angst, smut, plus-size!reader, lacrosse player!jake, semi-fwb au, college au, downbad!jake, insecurites (of the reader), self-manipulation, negative self-talk and thoughts, body worship, praise kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie ᯤ 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈: 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 — 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘭𝘥𝘭𝘧𝘦, 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 — 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘢𝘭, 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 — 𝘤𝘰𝘪𝘯, 𝘥𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘺 — 𝘺𝘶𝘦𝘬𝘶, 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 — 𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 — 𝘥𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘴 — 𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦!

⌗ 𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ── First and foremost, thank you for all the love the teaser for this fic got, it makes me so happy that everyone was receptive to this premise and wanted to see the entire story! All of my loves who read this (@lovetaroandtaemin @frenchkisstheabyss @xomakara @innocygnet @tinycatharsis @xylatox @aeristudios and many others), I love you guys and thank you for motivating me to continue it. And to all of you, like I said in the teaser, you are greater than your worst thoughts, and the love that you deserve is waiting for you no matter your size or self-doubts. I hope you enjoy!

You never step out of the car.

It's routine to pick Jake up after every Tuesday and Friday lacrosse practice. You detested the idea at first. You didn't know Jake's teammates and friends—you made a point not to—but you predicted long ago they would smell your anxiety the second you shifted gears on the pavement. "Just have San or someone else do it, please?" You'd responded with something to that effect the first time he asked, and the subject was dropped.

But sticking to your guns became especially difficult once Jake discovered your undoing via his incessant pouting and perfectly-executed neck kisses. Ultimately, your resolve crumbled.

You've driven to and away from the field many times in the past four months, yet your physical reactions in between the driving never change. You sit with bated breath as you see the clock on your dash shift, ten minutes past when you were supposed to be here passing in a blur. Fingers tap against the steering wheel in time to the beat of the song, the melody humming low from your speakers. All of the humdrum habits and safety of your car keep you from feeling small, but the second your head turns, or a sound pulls you from your daze, you're fucked.

Your 2011 Volkswagen is no match for the Audis and Range Rovers surrounding you in the parking lot next to the lacrosse field. In the 9 PM moonlight, they all shine something fierce. The chrome and glossy finishes are in excruciatingly stark contrast to the chipped paint on your front bumper and aged rubber lining your tires.

You can't picture what the field must look like. Booster parents and college alumni's donations ensured top-dollar amenities for the team that you've never seen play once. The Red Hawks have to be formidable in some capacity in order to garner such adoration from your peers and financial support from the school administration.

Jake laughed it off when you said you never went to a game before him and didn't plan on doing so even after ending up in his bed. He just went back to kissing you at the time and let it go because he knew the truth: it wasn't a part of the deal you both agreed upon.

"Yet picking him up is?" Jungwon asked one morning after you told him about taking Jake home the night prior. You lovingly told your best friend to fuck off and mind his business. The questions on his face could have easily cracked through your cool resolve, but you wouldn't let them.

All that can do that is your own nerves, psyching you out in a million ways before Jake can step away from the field and make it to your passenger side door.

Ultimately, though, finally seeing his sweat-soaked hair and cherry-red uniform hugging his body makes the fears dissipate enough for you to breathe normally again. A handful of guys walk off, but Jake and a few friends remain near the edge of the field. You can hear his laugh before he can get to your car, his conversation with his teammates turning from strategy to straight comedy, no doubt. Felix and Vernon share brotherly handshakes with him before making it to their own cars. You tell yourself not to follow them with your eyes, but they betray you the second the two men leave your peripheral vision. The girls waiting outside their vehicles are eager to greet them, sporting denim cutoffs and tank tops meant to show off their midriffs.

Subconsciously, your hand drifts to your own stomach. The skin there hasn't seen the sun in a hot minute. The last time had to be when you were too drunk to care. Now, more than clearheaded, you feel the hard truths come in like tidal waves. The outfit you could never pull off taunts you like the cars do. It's another piece of the puzzle to prove you don't fit in, not really.

The light but purposeful taps to your window pull you from the precipice of another mental spiral. You turn to find Jake fogging up the glass with his quick breaths. His megawatt smile is electric, unfurling your somber mood like a bird's wing. He may desperately need a shower and some rest, but he's never looked more radiant than with his flushed cheeks and damp curls. For how bright the moon shines outside, he's the sun incarnate.

He gets in the passenger side once he sets his equipment in your back seat. After he's settled in, his smile is back on you, warming you with silent heat.

"You smell," you say before pecking his lips. The kiss lasts for only a few seconds, but it could be a lifetime from how slow and smooth it feels, numbing your thoughts to their core like novocaine.

"Oh?" he asks when you pull away, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

"You're lucky I'm into that."

He chuckles. His lips are back on yours in the next second, the sound of his laughter still rumbling on his tongue when it enters your mouth. He presses his hand to your cheek, pulling you into him. The protective taping wrapped around his hand, running from knuckles to wrist, rubs against your cheek with every move of his mouth and fingertips.

You pull away to catch your breath, dizzy from the force of him. He whispers, "Let's go home."

He says the last word reverently, like home is just the two of you and nobody else. Exactly as it should be in his eyes. You try to believe it as you start the car, his hand firm on your thigh as you begin the drive back to his studio apartment. You want to take his words to heart, the only reassurance you'd ever need to quell the fear of opulence and beauty you barely possess, but you know the facts.

It won't last, so you have to enjoy what you can while you have it. But even that seems to be the hardest feat in the universe when you're reminded of what will soon be gone.

"Jaeyun—holy shit—right there." You gasp, moving your hips harder against Jake's soft lips. His tongue swirls around your clit as his fingers enter and exit your spongy walls. The brush of his fingertips hits you as hard as the murmurs of his words against your folds, praise leaving his lips as he admires the essence around his digits. You tighten around them with every swirl of his mouth on the hood of your cunt. He's desperate to make you fall apart once more, nuzzling deeper into you and moving faster.

You made it to his apartment quickly, the tension between you dissipating your earlier worries and transforming them into pure need. He may see it only as an expression of his desire for you, his stamina never-ending despite hours of practice. For you, it's the perfect way to make your ghosts go away, if only for a little while—his shower and rest be damned.

"She's sucking me in so well. Fuck, I love it," Jake comments, more for you than himself. He's a particular type of vulgar in bed. In normal conversation, he barely curses. Sure, he's still a guy surrounded by raging testosterone who possesses some fraction of perverted humor, but when he's lost in you and the sheets, he's feral. His composure becomes frayed in all the right ways when he sees your pussy flutter around his fingers, his tongue, his cock. He can't control it, and you don't want him to.

"God, please let me come again." You sink into his sheets as you arch your hips, chasing the feeling with eager and sweaty limbs. He pins you down harder, squeezing your plush skin between his palms while unraveling you. Jake's too good at this, snug amongst your soaked thighs and warm heat. Maybe he's made to live there in a land of skin and slick, forever existing between your legs.

"Yes, pretty girl. Let me feel it around me this time."

He switches positions quickly, sinking his aching tip inside of you as his wet fingers rub against your clit. He only manages a few strokes before you're losing your composure completely, clutching tightly to his shoulders with weak hands but lit-up nerve endings. His hips flex as your tongue shapes curses and half-completed moans.

"You're so perfect—ah, goddamnit—when you come. It's incredible. You're incredible." Sweat quickly paints his face as he maintains his slow but deep pace. He gains speed only once he feels his high trickling up his spine. "Where do you want it tonight, beautiful?"

You roll your eyes lazily, your head turning into the pillow from his praise. He always asks, although you both know the only correct answer. But you're so lost in him and the afterglow, you swallow the rhetorical barb on your lips and whisper, "Inside, Jaeyun. Fill me up, please? I want it all."

Jake curses once more before he ruts into you. Animalistic, choked cries erupt from deep in his diaphragm when he reaches his orgasm. He already had no composure left to speak of, but it’s as though he's finding it again by letting himself fall apart above you. Ropes of his seed coat your insides with warmth, and you think that this must be what he meant when he said "home" earlier in the car. There's nothing inside or outside of your bubble to fear when you're both so intertwined, so attached to one another in the most primal form.

You lay there together for a moment, evening the tempos of your heartbeats and pace of your breaths together. It's peace at its barest elements. The quiet of your mind feels as foreign as a new language, but Jake makes it easy to learn when he swims the uncharted waters with you.

But that's the trick with ghosts. They creep in the moment after a person believes they've bested them once and for all.

"I gotta ask you something," Jake whispers. He rubs his hands against the expanse of your back, but it's no longer soothing. The warmth you felt a mere ten minutes ago turns to ice, the calm waters transforming into a harsh current you're preparing to drown in. Jake senses the sudden rigidness of your body in the aftermath of his statement. He chuckles and pulls you in closer. "Relax, I'm not proposing to you."

You huff, quietly relieved. "Would've been an odd way to ask, anyway."

His chest rumbles with laughter. Your fear lowers to a manageable degree, but you remain on your toes. Possibilities flicker across your mind, the cryptic message capable of anything. Will he make another stink about you seeing one of his games? Does he want to risk you finally agreeing to attend one of the dumb house parties you've said no to a million times over, only for you to swat him on the arm and tell him to go to bed?

Your throat dries up in anticipation of the inevitable. After a moment, he says, "I want you to meet my parents."

You try silence to listen as Jake explains further, but you're running on half concentration and half inner turmoil. A few of his words play in a loop in your brain as you watch his lips move.

Jake's parents. Home from overseas. He wants to introduce you to them.

There were only a handful of rules established at the onset of whatever your relationship was. One of them was not to make the relationship itself intimately known amongst friends and family. Jake's teammates and your friends are aware you both are seeing each other, but that's the beginning and end of it. There's no showing off photos of each other, no bouts of PDA to make people envious or uncomfortable, and definitely no sharing of personal information.

You like it that way. It keeps the outside world from creeping in and expanding the doubts already adequately sized in your mind. You don't think you can take that reality, the one where everyone pulls their two cents together for the destruction of what little you've scrounged up with Jake, so you live in this one instead. You're at an arm's length from the entirety of him and his life, but he's still reachable. And you're still safe.

Only now, Jake is threatening that safety by wanting what's outside of your bounds, asking you to give parts of yourself you can't breach.

You pull away from him sharply, tasting alkaline metal in the back of your throat. In response, Jake's blush-painted cheeks go white. He presses both hands to either side of your face before you have time to move further away. His touch is so sweet, but it doesn't save you from getting lost in your head. "I know it's a lot, but they'd love you right away. And I—"

"What would we even say?" You interrupt him with bite, your teeth gnashing together in hard clamps. "'Hi, Mom, this is the girl from my organic chemistry class I've been fucking all semester. Dad, that's a nice tie'?"

"I wouldn't exactly put it like that," he jokes. He pushes some of your sweaty strands of hair from your face as he composes his next words. "And my dad doesn't wear ties, so we're good there."

"Jaeyun, you're missing my point!"

"I'm seeing it loud and clear, babe. I'm just saying there's nothing to worry about, especially my dad's fashion choices."

His teasing only makes your stomach sink deeper. How can you make him understand your perspective without cracking open months' worth of anxiety? You aren't officially dating, but it's been working just fine within the parameters of no labels. Why screw it up? "Yunnie, I can't. You know why."

He gulps and rubs one thumb along the apple of your cheek. He says nothing, but his brown irises and downturned lips hold all the questions in the world you can't answer. The biggest one of all nearly upends your willpower: Why can't you want more?

The problem is not that you don't. You do, so much so the desire for it could suffocate you. There's no woman on this planet who could sleep with Jake for this long and not grow fond of him. And that fondness has only grown stronger with time, time to be breathless with him by your side and time for your mind to race around thoughts of him when he wasn't there.

But you can't get lost in fantasy; you must be realistic. There will be a day he realizes you both are on two different planes of existence. You're perpendicular lines that, by some galaxy's grace, converged once and never will again.

He's Sim Jaeyun, lacrosse co-captain and statuesque head to toe. And you're you, the girl who your middle school bully nicknamed "Pudding" as she poked your stomach with a ruler. The teenager who delivered love notes to your friends from boys searching for less love handles and more sex appeal. The woman molded from pitiful pats to the chin and words of judgement caked with sugary understanding. "It's just baby fat, darling. We all get it, and it'll go away when you hit a growth spurt one day."

That day never came, and the extra tissue stayed. But, with time and effort, you grew callous to protect what remained soft inside of you.

Jake is the only person who seems to seep past the hard edges you've built without knowing any of your history, and it terrifies you. It makes you believe for a millisecond that he could make all the intrusive thoughts disappear if you'd let him.

But he can't, not when he asks for things that will never come, and definitely not when you're positive he won't care when he leaves you behind.

It doesn't make the pain on his face any easier to bear, though. It sags from defeat, and his lips turn in the pout you adore when he sees you don't want to hurt him any more than you already have by saying no. Before he can utter another word, or his expression can wound you deeper, you shut him up with something you'll regret later, a trade that feels like a death sentence. "The Hawk's Gala."

His eyes widen. "What?"

"The Hawk's Gala's this Sunday, right? After Saturday's game?" You swallow your fear like a dry pill. "I'll go with you."

Jake asked you weeks ago if you would attend the team's annual gala to celebrate the midway point of the season. One night, he mentioned it when you were too preoccupied with his cock in your mouth to give him a definitive answer. You expected him to not broach the topic again after you left him with no elaboration. But he had no room to complain after you swallowed every bit of his cum and mental energy. Unfortunately for you, he asked one more time after that, and you blew him again to make the invitation disappear from his mind.

Now, you’ve sprung the idea back on him to escape from the original conversation, but it only makes you feel worse as every pore on Jake's face lights up. "Really?"

He's like a kid sneaking a peek at his birthday present, tentative but ready to burst at the seams. You nod, not smiling but not frowning either, and the dam of his excitement breaks.

He squishes you back into bed, unaware of the terror in your eyes as he smatters kisses across your face and neck. His elation breaks your heart evenly down the middle, the hope seeping out of him souring instead of sweetening your mood. He's buzzing with the beginning of something more while you see the slow crawl to your end. The credits are rolling quickly past your eyes, the cackles and judgement ringing in your ears, and you can do nothing to stop it.

Working retail has to be one of the worst jobs you've ever had. It's monotonous to boot, the only upside being the extra money in your pocket for extra college expenses.

For all the glamour of the glitzy tops and convenience of the mall's constant markdowns, you have thought of quitting almost twice a day. Once customers see the name tag pinned to your shirt, you cease to be a person and become another goal post to the shopping bag they'll walk out of the store with.

The only bright spots have been your coworkers. Like Heeseung, who runs a tight ship as the store manager, and Sunwoo, your right-hand man when you need him to help with folding or handling rowdy teenagers.

Well, them, and the rare occurrence when Jake breaks your rules and stops by after classes to see you. It may only be ten to twenty minutes of time, most of those minutes being spent near the pretzel stand adjacent to the store, but it means more than you'd ever admit to anyone.

Today, you know it will be one of the hardest shifts of your life. Watching Wonyoung walk into the store with a random guy on Jake's team on her arm is like the knock of Death's fist on your door. You assume the poor kid is on the team from the Red Hawks letterman jacket he's wearing. The scoff that leaves your mouth is unavoidable. She couldn't be more transparent in her tactics to make her ex-boyfriend jealous when he's not even around.

Her presence makes a knot form in your throat as you finish rearranging the jeans on the display near the cash registers. What could she want in this store on this night when you're one of the few employees working the floor? Heeseung's on his half-hour lunch break while Sunwoo's been delegated to dressing room duty. You could use your walkie, call for backup and pretend the SOS is for a legitimate emergency, but then Heeseung would pry into it as your friend and superior. In short, there's no escaping the situation presented to you on a cruel, platinum-blonde platter.

When Wonyoung appears in front of you with a lacy dress in one hand and her boy candy's hand intertwined with the other, you stifle the bile crawling up your throat and paint on your best smile. "Welcome to Fatal Trouble Fabrics, what can I help you with?"

Wonyoung's own smile is more artificial than yours, saccharine yet glazed with venom. "Is XS the smallest size you guys have? I think it may be too roomy in the hips for me."

Your jaw ticks, and you tug the corner of your bottom lip between your teeth. "There's always alternative sizing options on our website. We go from XXXS to XXXL in almost all of the garments." You can hear the clinical objectivity in your voice, but it's the only way to get through the hell that is this conversation.

She's everything you're not in too many ways to tally up. She's half your weight soaking wet and effortlessly dolled up in the most natural makeup you've ever seen. Not to mention she has two years of experience with Jake to speak for that you'll never measure up to. He’s spoken about her in the rarest of times, only saying it ended badly during his second semester and he would never venture down that path with her again. His reassurance was a slight comfort, but not enough to quell the insecurities she springs out of you.

The second her eyebrow quirks up, your urge to vomit heightens. She can see she's getting to you; with the way her lips purse, she has to have some inkling. Knowing you’re going against a snake ready for the last strike against its defenseless prey, you steel yourself for whatever will come next.

She looks past you to the rack with tube tops in multiple colors. She lets go of Boy Candy's hand to rifle through the clothes, completely silent. Then, she pulls one bigger-sized article off the display before saying, "I'd love to buy this for my sister, but she's a bit chubbier than this. You know, your size."

Boy Candy can't fight the laughter that sputters past his lips. Your face twitches once, only once, but it makes your sight turn to the smallest capacity of tunnel vision you've ever known. She didn't have to go there, yet she did. You don’t have to feel the bruise of her insult, yet you do. It’s all over your posture now, and you can’t avoid it.

You grip another pair of jeans tighter in your hands. Turning to fold them, you say over your shoulder, "You should check out the website, then. It’ll have a lot more options for…easily accessible clothing, if you get what I mean."

Just as she's about to step closer to you, her plastic grin turning to a pissed-off pout, Jake saunters through the store and immediately wraps his hand around her upper arm. You know he's not hurting her, but it still makes your blood run cold seeing him in this protective mode. It's not one he's ever had to use for you, or maybe anyone, before. "Won, don't do this here. I mean it."

"Dude, you can't do that!" Boy Candy interjects with a high-pitched yell. He shrinks immediately when Jake turns in his direction, looking at the smaller and younger kid with rigid apathy.

"Kai, get lost before I tell Coach to bump you to second line just for pissing me off."

Kai raises his hands in defense and walks backwards to the store entrance, leaving Wonyoung to fend for herself. Jake goes back to staring down his ex-girlfriend, his expression on the cusp of explosion. “I’m asking you nicely to not cause a scene. Next time, I won’t.”

She huffs and yanks her arm from Jake's hold. "Whatever. Call me when you get tired of slumming it with food court trash." She looks back at you with a smirk before walking away towards Boy Candy.

You want to throw all the pairs of jeans at her until her smug face disappears from your mind. More importantly, you want to muffle the thoughts now overloading your headspace.

Please keep it together, you tell yourself when Jake puts his hand on your hip with reverence, a gesture that makes your heart swell but your breath quicken. Don't remind me I don't deserve him right now.

"Are you okay?" he asks patiently, moving his hand to run his thumb under your shirt. No coworkers or customers are around to see him be so secretly intimate with you, but you blush all the same.

You nod. "Yeah. I just wanna get through this shift,” You manage a smile, and he visibly relaxes when you affirm you’re fine. “You could've texted and said you were coming by."

"Well, it was a surprise." Jake moves away from you to take a box from his denim jacket. It's wrapped with a white bow, but he quickly unties it in order to open the packaging. "I know you said no gifts, but I wanted to give you this."

A gold necklace appears between his fingers. The rectangular pendant hanging from its center features a cutout of a bird, the negative space forming the shape of a hawk in flight.

You could cry if you weren’t awestruck by the gift’s beauty. Combing through your memory, you realize nobody has ever given you something so precious. It would be criminal to say no to it, although every basic instinct tells you not to fall for the false comfort it provides. But how could it be false when Jake looks at the jewelry like it's his own heart laid bare for you to take?

Without a word of protest, you turn and tuck your hair away from your shoulders so he can put the necklace on you. You can feel his smile without looking, and your knees buckle a touch.

Jake secures the clasp at the back of your neck. The pendant falls perfectly over your heart, shining against the store's halogen lights. His fingertips brush your nape as he moves away. He lights your skin on fire in every way, but the subsequent smile he gives you is what makes your belly ache with need. "I know you're going to look beautiful, but I couldn't have you going to this dinner without wearing something…symbolic."

"Symbolic, huh?" You smirk, feigning confidence, but you feel as vulnerable as he does when you ask it.

"Yeah, I think so." He runs his hand across your waist again, like he wants to pull you closer and harder against him. "If it wasn't unprofessional of you to make out with a customer, I'd have kissed you already."

You giggle, your smile beaming. "I don't think anyone's around to stop you, Sim."

He mumbles a "Fuck it" before attaching his mouth to yours, warming you to the bones slowly. You smile into his kiss and let it wash away the pain. For a moment, you think you might come out of the dinner in a few days without issue. As long as he never leaves your side, you think you can do it. Maybe.

Your fingers were tentative against the bruise marring Jake's shoulder blade. Tinted a shade deeper than his normal skintone but visibly lighter at the edges, the bruise will fade in another few days. You know this from asking him a few hours ago how it happened. "From practice, it's fine—just let me touch you, please," he had said in haste to pull you closer and take your clothes off.

Now, you tread across it gently as you sit shoulder-to-shoulder with him, covers pulled up to your chest to cover your naked skin.

"Broken blood vessels cause the bruise itself," he says. "It can take up to two weeks for the body to break down the buildup of blood, depending on the level of injury." He runs his bottom lip along your forehead, and you shiver against him, making him chuckle. "You could try listening, you know. I'm giving you important medical information here!" 

You laugh into his neck, playing with the ends of his hair. "I am! Just didn't expect you to know so much about the anatomy of a bruise when your degree is for veterinary medicine."

He shrugs, suddenly bashful. For all the talk of Jake around campus as a beast on the field, he's incredibly intelligent. One class was enough for you to see how engaged he was with his studies, more than just some jock you knew by name only. He always asked questions, took diligent notes, and collaborated in discussions without dominating the conversation. In truth, it was a shock that he asked to exchange lecture notes with you over coffee two months ago.

"You're one of the only people who jots down everything Mr. Choi says!" You tried not to sound rude when responding to his proposition, but you were unsure what exactly he wanted from you in the first place. Especially when he was the equivalent of a movie starlet and you…well…

He just smiled and said, "Well, it was kinda hard to do that today when I spent half of his presentation staring at you."

You shake away your bout of reminiscing, coming back to Earth to hear Jake's breakdown of bruises for dummies. He rolls his eyes dramatically after you apologize for losing your train of focus. "Anyway, that's why bruises can be hot to the touch. It's also why they change color little by little as the blood is broken down.

"From black and blue…" Jake presses a kiss to the spot between your eyebrows. He drags his mouth across your face with every pause he takes between speaking. "…to brown…sometimes green and yellow…"

His lips on your neck make you tremble once again under his touch. Your body acts as though he didn't already spread it out for the taking a mere half hour ago.

"…and then back to its normal color," he murmurs before another tantalizing kiss lands on your lips. You stifle a moan, but a partial sound squeaks out anyway that turns your cheeks a rosy hue. "Good as new."

"Now who's losing focus, huh," you jest.

"I think I'm doing just fine in that department, pretty girl."

The edges of your mouth turn up before you press your mouth to his wounded skin. His body feels all kinds of warm against your lips. He groans unabashedly, his own gooseflesh perking up on his arms and neck from your attention. You giggle like a teenager, vulnerable in a way that isn't sounding off alarm bells in your brain.

He's the beginning, middle, and end of safety, every emotion stirred up in your heart cared for with his gentle hands.

"Who needs the body's healing process when you can just kiss it better?" he teases before pinning you between his body and his bedsheets.

You scoff playfully. "Do those lines work with all the girls?"

He pokes his tongue at you before booping your nose with his index finger. "Hopefully just one, the only one that matters."

You think Jake may be your own personal bruise, an unexpected force that's affected every inch of your body. But you don't want him to fade, not now and not ever.

You wake from your dream to the sound of your phone's text alert. Jake's contact photo lights up your phone, but what catches your attention the most is the time on your homescreen. "Fuck," you mutter before leaping from bed. Your hands make quick work of rifling through your closet as a million more curses leave your lips.

You thought a quick hour nap before getting ready would quell your anxieties about the gala in question finally coming around the corner. Unfortunately, your anxieties also made you forget to set a damn alarm, and thus left you with only an hour and a half to get ready.

And the brutality of your nerves smacks you in the face as you scroll through Jake's messages.

J 🤍 [04:15]: Hey, pretty girl. Just in case you forgot and want to coordinate, I'll be wearing red ;)  J 🤍 [04:18]: Well, a red letterman jacket and a dress shirt. But red! J 🤍 [05:05]: Ok, a bit worried you haven't responded, but I don't want you freaking out about anything. You could walk in wearing a sack and you'd be gorgeous like you always are… J 🤍 [05:07]: I mean, don't come in a sack if you think that's too basic, but I'll love whatever you wear. Text me when you're on your way. J 🤍 [05:59]: Is everything okay?

"Damnit," you say before typing a quick response back to him that you're okay despite oversleeping. You end the text with a winking emoji and a heart that will ease his worries.

If only the little pixels could assuage yours.

The pit in your stomach from this morning was the size of a golf ball, manageable until you needed to sleep to take your mind off of its presence. Now, it's the size of a dinner plate pressing down on your ribcage with each and every dress you put on. They all fail to impress you, none of them doing the work of making your burdens disappear. One burgundy dress that falls to the middle of your thighs is passable, but you still want to punch a hole through the mirror hanging on your bathroom door when you see your reflection.

Even as you run heaps of makeup across your face and curl your hair, you feel like a clown that's missing the best parts of their costume. In the next second, you swipe too much lipstick on your upper lip and let out the wail of a wounded animal. It's ragged and spent, tattered from all sides.

At that moment, the first truth becomes an unmistakable blow to the stomach: every pretty garment and expensive cosmetic in the world won't keep you from embarrassing Jake. You will stick out like a sore thumb at that dinner, a stain over the picture-perfect moment he could have if you stay out of sight and mind.

In the next moment, the second truth appears: you won't be leaving your apartment tonight. You set the lipstick tube down on your desk and try not to dry heave, waddling back to your bed to disappear under the covers.

You'll break his heart for breaking your promise, but all you can do is hope he'll allow you to mend it. Maybe some part of him will understand there's a valid reason you missed it, one you cannot verbalize, but he recognizes under the layers of pretty words you'll use. That will be better than knowing the entirety of your excuse for blowing him off.

You don't bother wiping off the wreck you've made of your face or discarding the dress in the heap of clothes you've made on the floor. You toss and turn under the comforter, tears streaming down your face and hands clutching your necklace as the sun sets. Hearing the sounds of the outside world greeting dusk, you feel half your size but steel yourself to sleep with the knowledge it's better this way. It has to be.

Jake has tried to be patient. 

He knows he could not have been more reasonable and nonjudgemental as he watches your chest rise and fall in your sleep. Your figure in the throes of your slumber is so beautiful, especially when your fingers remain wrapped around the pendant at your throat. He swears to himself he could fall in love with you all over again tonight if he wasn't so disappointed and pissed off. And with those emotions too present in his gut to avoid, he knows you've worn his patience down to the quick.

He waited for a half-hour outside of the restaurant for you to show, biting the skin around his nails as each minute passed by with your face nowhere in sight. Texts went unresponded to, calls unanswered, even video chat requests went through dead air. He had half a mind to run away from the venue to make sure you hadn't slipped in the shower or something far more dangerous kept you from meeting him.

Throughout the entire dinner, he brushed the concerned questions from his teammates off and said you fell too ill to make it. The guys said nothing and continued on with the engagement, but Jake remained rattled through the rest of the night. When he said his goodbyes, he felt a small semblance of relief, because that meant he could drive straight to you for the answers he desperately sought.

He didn't expect to find you passed out. You usually greet him at the door with eager arms and peckish lips, but you were too fatigued and lost in sleep to hear him unlocking your front door and stepping inside. He was also floored to find your apartment in ruins, the place akin to a bomb going off in all directions that gave no clues as to what happened to you. So, all he could do was sit at your bedside and watch you, your eyelids and body twitching as you dreamed.

Jake's been patient long enough, more than understanding for you, the girl he loves, but now he needs some sense of direction that only you can provide.

Jake runs his thumb over the lipstick smudge on your cupid's bow, and he curses himself when your eyes flutter open. You look peaceful for a moment as you wake up, but your irises immediately flood with fear at Jake's presence and the darkness surrounding you both. "What time is it?" you ask.

"One on the dot," he responds. "I used the spare key in the plant pot by your door."

You rub your face and rise, shame flooding every part of your body. You ran through the cycle of chastising yourself and swearing you were doing the right thing a thousand times over before you passed out, but facing Jake is a new breed of raw. His hurt is palpable, especially in the quiet cold of the night. It pierces you long and hard when he asks, "What happened?"

You mumble, "Nothing looked nice enough to go out in." You shrug, balling the fabric of your dress between your fists. "And I couldn't come out and meet everyone like this."

"I think this looks just fine," he says with an incredulous expression, still tainted with pain but newly inscribed with wholehearted empathy. "Better than that, actually." 

Jake's hand comes to meet the side of your neck, brushing the gold necklace along your nape, and you bite down on your lip hard to fight the swell of emotion crawling up your throat. "I need you to talk to me," he whispers as you taste blood in your mouth.

You step away from him to grab your hamper, pawing at the heaps of clothing on your floor with trembling hands. If you can't control the conversation, the least you can do is make your house less of a war-zone. Anything is better than facing Jake head-on right now. "There's nothing to say besides that I didn't come and I'm sorry, I really am." You look at him directly in the eyes, forcing some confidence to rise to the surface. "Can we please just drop it?"

He scoffs at your question. "You stand me up, refuse to give me a valid explanation why, and think it's okay to ask me to drop it?" He makes you stop grabbing clothes from the floor by clutching both of your shoulders in his palms. "What is going on with you?"

You shake your head so fast it makes you dizzy. "I can't do this, Jaeyun. Please."

"Baby, I just need help understanding this, 'cause I'm so fucking confused right now." His arms run up your skin to rest on your face. "Is this about what happened the other day with Wonyoung?"

"Partly," you admit. You walk away from his touch again, but he follows behind you as you move around your small apartment. When you've done enough tidying up, you throw the hamper to one side by your bed, unbothered if the mess of clean clothes is now mixed with your dirty laundry. "How about I tell you how the night would have played out if I did show up? Your friends would've looked at me like a zoo attraction but tried to keep the peace by making small talk that means fuck-all to anyone. And no matter how polite or funny I was, they would've thought to themselves or said to their girlfriends by the end of the night that you're fucking insane for spending time with…"

The silence is impenetrable, charged with words you can't say but you hope Jake can make sense of without needing verbalization.

His face morphs in the quiet, seething.

"With what?" Jake invades your space, his quiet voice and stoic face chilling you to the bone. You lose all sense of courage to continue, but he quirks an eyebrow up as his eyes darken. "Finish the fucking sentence. With what?"

You swallow hard, terrified to say the words rattling around in your brain. You settle on something simple, but the two letters feel anything but. "Me."

The tears slide down your cheeks like knives, cutting you open for Jake to see. This is the moment that you've been dreading since the second he made a home in your heart. It won't go back to the way it was before, before every insecurity was laid bare.

"I'm fucking disgusting, Jake," you mutter with despair. "It's a miracle I've gotten past being terrified of you seeing me naked, but everyone in your life knowing that we're together would be too much because it's obvious that—" You choke on the words, the tears now coating your throat like poison. "I'm not meant for you, and you should be going out with someone like your ex, someone who's beautiful by every standard known to man." You laugh sadly. "Or maybe someone who meets even half of that criteria. But not—"

"Fuck you." He slams his letterman jacket down on the desk. A mixture of your makeup falls on the floor when the jacket meets the wood slab, but you barely hear the crack of your compacts or tubes of lipstick on the laminate tile. You're too focused on Jake's appalled and betrayed face to notice anything but him. "You have no right telling me who I'm supposed to be with, who I should want, who to love. That's nobody's business but mine. And you must think somewhat highly of yourself to think you can control that. Screw my friends' opinions or anyone else's." 

"It should! They matter to you."

"You matter more, more than anyone!"

He inhales a sharp breath as his eyes water. You thought his pouts broke your heart before, but seeing him worn down like this is true heartbreak. He's broken from how broken you are, and you wish you had the power to stitch him back together. Clearly, you've made a bigger mess than you intended to, and now there's no going back.

Jake takes a few short, tear-stricken breaths before saying, "Fuck I—I love you, okay? I love you so much that all of the criticism in the world is background noise when I look at you. You're the one person, the only person I've ever known, who makes time stop for me and my problems matter less. And you're so gorgeous I can't think straight sometimes." A hollow laugh escapes him, but you can't react to it properly. Not when you're crying as hard as he is.

"I wish you could see yourself how I see you, so much it kills me, but I can't do that for you. You have to see that for yourself."

You're stunned into complete silence, your heart denying his confession as your brain computes he's walking closer to the door, prepared to leave before you can find an adequate response. You don't find one in time as he turns the knob and prepares to leave.

Before he can, he says with a somber lilt to his tone, "I hope whoever gets to see the version of you who loves herself as much as I do knows they're lucky. Because that girl will be invincible."

The slam of your door is a gunshot, piercing your chest and staining your dress a darker shade of burgundy. You manage to grip Jake's jacket between your hands and hold it close, the only thing keeping your shattered heart held together being his scent on the fabric. What could you have said to keep him, to make him stay? How could you tell him you love him too despite all the disdain you hold for yourself being what drove him away in the first place?

Your cries converge with piercing screams, rubbing your voice raw until there's nothing else to do but continue sobbing silently in a ball on the floor with his jacket as your lifeline.

The last week has been hell, to say the least.

You didn't try reaching out to Jake the next morning when you woke up. You were too hollow, too shaken. At the same time, the last words he said filled you with a sensitivity you could not find words for, and trying to pretend that didn't happen would be disrespectful to both of you.

And, to make it worse, there was no outreach on his end. He didn't show up to class on Monday or Wednesday, and there were no messages or calls from him to springboard off of. What else could you do besides leave him be? Why else would he walk away from you the way he did, spent and out of chances to give, if he didn't want to be left alone?

Hours rolled into days of silence, both parties unsure how to break the now insurmountable block of ice. You felt like a coward with every passing day, missing him desperately in spite of your lack of words. The newfound hole in your chest, inscribed with Jake's name, could only be filled by him, and it grew wider while you waited for the day he'd return or for you to find the strength to undo the pain you caused.

You sweep the store floor with your aching heart, eager to end your Sunday shift in an hour and sink into bed once again. Without Jake, your routine has been heading to work or school, running home to eat takeout, streaming a movie to cry to, and passing out. It's not that dissimilar from the habits you had before he came into your life, but it's even more soul-crushing knowing the before and after of his presence is starkly different.

Just as you walk over to the counter to grab your dustpan to collect the dust, Felix and Vernon appear like phantoms near the register.

"Jesus Christ!" You immediately stick your broom in the space between you and the two men, and their eyes widen at your defensive stance. "How the fuck did you get in the store? We closed ten minutes ago."

"We bribed some blonde kid to let us in," Vernon responds, rubbing the back of his shaved head with a sweaty palm. Although he still looks surprised you're using a cleaning tool as a weapon, his voice is deadpan.

"Fucking Sunwoo," you mutter under your breath. "Listen, you guys might be great with lacrosse sticks, but I'm even better with this broom." You waggle it to prove your point. "So, you should get the fuck out before I knock one of you on the head."

"Please, just hear us out," Felix starts. His deep voice, thicker than his counterpart or even Jake's, stuns you. "J is miserable without you."

"Yeah," Vernon confirms. "He had to sit out of the game yesterday."

You're surprised your heart can still beat after being so perfectly decimated a week ago, but it breaks once again hearing about Jake's disposition. "The feeling's mutual."

"Okay. Then talk to him and say you're sorry, simple." Felix gives you a close-lipped smile, but it seems more forced than friendly.

Your brows furrow as your hand raises up to clutch the pendant close to your heart. "He's the one that left me."

"After you stood him up," Vernon interjects, pointing a finger out. Your lack of a response makes Vernon huff out an exasperated breath of air. Before he can say anything else, Felix cuts him off.

"We shouldn't have come, this is clearly pointless."

"Oh really?" You clench your fist around the broom, the curved plastic biting into your skin.

Felix's lips mold into a deep frown, hurt rather than anger coating every feature on his face. "You made judgements about us before we even got a chance to meet you—"

"Yeah! That's pretty fucked up, by the way. We wouldn't fat-shame you. We like curvy girls!" Vernon defends himself, and Felix fights the urge to smack his older friend upside the head.

"Thanks," you respond. The word on your lips is more of a question than a statement, but you appreciate Vernon's sentiment.

"And yet you were worried we would look at you a certain way," Felix continues.

"Is that so surprising?" you justify, eyes on the verge of watering.

Felix nods before responding with, "Because the things you were so worried about were built up in your own head. It wasn't Jake's or anyone else's doing."

You bite your bottom lip, unable to deny his declarations, but offended. "Tell that to Wonyoung."

"Won's a bitch to almost everyone. She doesn't count," Vernon counters, and Felix can't help but laugh a little and nod.

Felix turns serious again. "Jake loves you no matter what you think others see when they look at you, and if that isn't apparent by now, you're not the person he told us so much about."

Felix walks towards the entrance, and Vernon leaves you with some ultimate words of advice before following his teammate out. "Just…talk to him, please."

You feel like a kid with a stomachache, scolded for eating too much candy and expecting a different result. In a way, your reactions have been admittedly childish, despite every good intention you had keeping Jake on the outskirts of your worst self-critical thoughts. But maybe he wouldn't have shied away from you that night if you had been honest from the beginning about the fears you had beginning a relationship with him. Maybe you would have survived it, perhaps even thrived despite all the monsters insisting you two weren't fit for each other.

But that was the past. Now was undetermined, and maybe it could still turn in your favor.

Sunwoo steps into view after the two guys exit the store. Your eyes burn with ire for your younger coworker, but he raises his hands immediately and says, "I need a new hard drive, and they gave me twenty bucks!"

You let go of the irritation directed at Sunwoo and finally make work of picking up the dust from the floor. If anything, it reminds you of all that still needs fixing, especially between you and the boy you can't forget.

But it's all down to you, and whether you can put in the effort to dispel your own demons once and for all.

You begin healing.

On Monday morning, twelve-ish hours after seeing Felix and Vernon at work, you skip class and head to the university's counseling center. It's two hours of intake forms and appointment setting, but it makes all the difference in the world walking out of that office a few pounds metaphorically lighter.

You talk to Jungwon and Sunwoo in a coffee shop off-campus and unload the fears that have plagued you your entire life, their voices of reassurance being the first ones you've ever heard that allow the tears to lessen and the reality of your situation to settle on your body like a warm blanket.

"You're a human with anxieties," Jungwon says as Sunwoo rubs your back in circles. "You need support like any other person. It's not right to go through it alone."

And you don't. You sit with them through lunch and dinner, drinking coffee and acknowledging your mindset needs to change.

When your head hits the pillow that night, you go to sleep with the comfort of knowing you're taking the first steps to a version of you that's better.

Wednesday, you prepare to talk to Jake. You have the words picked out perfectly in your head, recognition of your mistakes and willingness to change littered throughout. Only he never shows, and your heart sinks. He certainly can pass without a few days of attendance, but if he's putting this much effort into avoiding you, is it too late?

Was this your penance, having figured everything out after getting it so irrevocably wrong?

The answer to the question comes in the form of a sweaty Felix on the cusp of dusk. He grabs your shoulder just before you can get into your car, the day's fatigue and sadness weighing down your bones.

"J's meeting his parents tomorrow for dinner at the Italian place across from the field," Felix says through ragged breaths. "He better look like a dog with a bone when I see him on Friday at practice or I will kick your ass personally, girl or not."

You chuckle, tears lining your eye ducts. "Thank you. Really."

"Yeah. Thank me after you talk to him. He loves you but you know as well as I do that he's a stubborn fucker sometimes." He gives a last nod for good luck before running in the opposite direction.

You park in front of the restaurant with two bouquets in hand and your anxiety shot to hell. Nerves entrench your body from head to toe as you walk into the place, too busy with the flowers to bite your nails.

Before, you would pick out everyone else's clothes and physiques compared to yours like a ruthless guessing game, the only players being you and your harshest critics. Do I look as hideous as I feel? Can everyone tell? Now, that's the furthest thing from your mind. All you care to do now is fix what you've damaged.

"Welcome to Maggiano's," the perky hostess says as you walk closer to the podium. "How can I help you?"

"I'm meeting a party of three. S-Sim should be the last name on the reservation." You stutter over your words. You're unable to see Jake or his parents in the sea of crowded tables under dimmed chandelier lighting, and it throws your confidence off even more.

She directs you to their table, a corner booth off of the kitchen, and you will yourself to make the trek over to them with the last of your strength. Jake's gaze remains focused on his parents, and it's a small kindness that you don't need to face him just yet.

His parents notice you first, and they smile kindly at you. "Hello there," the woman you assume to be Jake's mother says, eyes crinkling with a smile that is all too familiar.

Jake turns to meet the subject of his mother's attention, and a million emotions flash across his eyes like shooting stars when he sees you, brief but telling. Only pain remains when the surprise wears off, and you wish his face held any other emotion but the one you know so personally.

You smile at his parents politely. "I'm Jake's girlfriend. I apologize for being late, but I was busy grabbing these." You hand one bouquet to his mother, her face lighting up at the peonies wrapped in pink tissue paper. You give Jake his own set of flowers, yellow marigolds. "For tomorrow's game. The florist said they represent good luck, not that you need it."

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice hoarse but cheeks immediately flushing pink. He turns to his parents, the couple still surprised and happy to see you. You can only wonder what Jake has told them about you, but Jake cuts your wondering short when says, "Can you guys give us a minute to talk?"

His hand in yours as he pulls you away feels too right, too easy to fall back into. A thousand memories cross your mind as you recognize this may be the last time his skin touches yours. Sleeping in and missing class as the sun rose high in the sky. Nights after practices where you couldn't remember your name unless Jake was saying it in sighs and curses. And the last ones where you were the source of his disappointment.

Can the good outweigh the bad at this point? You can only hope so.

When you're a respectful distance away from the table, Jake stands in front of you with his hands nestled in his pockets. You can see him fumbling with his thumbs under the cloth, a telltale sign of nerves he doesn't want to show. "What are you doing here?"

You swallow heavy air, your gut tightening. "I came to apologize. I should have told you from the beginning that there were these terrible opinions of myself and my body image. And keeping them from you didn't stop them from coming, but I should've given you more credit. You never made me feel like I was unworthy of being with you. That was all me."

He nods, sadness tugging the edges of his lips down. "I know."

"I'm actually turning things around, believe it or not." You laugh, the sound filled with promise rather than desolation. "And it helped me to realize now that living behind a wall I thought kept me safe did nothing but hurt you, the only person I've ever loved, and I'm so sorry."

His face perks up hearing the last few words on your lips. You clutch the pendant on your neck for strength, and his face softens at the realization you're still wearing it. You never stopped.

"I love you," you confess, "the guy who fidgets with everything at his desk when he's bored, and even when he's not. I love you because it's heart-stoppingly cute when you talk about the atomic makeup of random objects just for fun. Because you're an incredible friend, a beautiful person, and someone I want to keep getting the privilege of knowing. You saw and loved me, past all the reasons I found to hate myself." Your words fall apart by the end, voice fragmented from vulnerability, but you continue. "And you may not be in love with me anymore, but you deserve to know that you are loved by me still, and I'm thankful I had the chance to—"

You don't recognize Jake is kissing you until he places both his quivering hands on your face, the brush of his lips on yours being everything necessary to heal the hole in your heart. It's so unexpected, but essential for you to breathe again. Jake kisses you like he knows it too, like he feels the same ache inside of him that needs repairing with your help.

Tears run down your face until you taste saltwater on your tongue, but you don't care. You refuse to waste another second without him. Home is here with him, with all of your ghosts revealed.

Jake pulls away softly. "I missed that," you confess against his lips, water still trickling down your face.

"Me too," he affirms, his own wet lids reflecting in the lights of the chandeliers. "I love you."

You giggle, relief flooding your body. It's cool water over parched earth, saving a being close to the brink of ruin. "I love you more."

Jake laughs too, shaking his head like you've said the silliest words known to humankind. "Not possible." He tucks his hand under your chin before kissing you again, his lips the only salvation you'll ever need.

His dad whistles at the two of you, and Jake begrudgingly lets go of your face. "Lovebirds, we need to put in our order!" he yells from across the restaurant, and almost everyone in the room laughs. You can't fight it, laughing too into Jake's suit jacket as he holds you close.

Tonight, you don't mind the spotlight, especially with Jake nearby.

The ride back to your apartment is so long it feels like you're suffocating with every minute that remains of your ETA. You try abiding by the traffic laws and staying in your lane, but you may die if another stoplight keeps you from taking Jake home. "Patience," Jake murmurs with a smirk, rubbing small circles into your outer thigh.

"Coming from you, that's ironic." You squeeze your thighs together for friction, and Jake chuckles to himself. It's unsurprising the way your body reacts to him and his words, both charged with electric currents you've gone without for too long.

The way up to your apartment is tense, only for the fact you're trying to listen to his earlier warning of patience and not pounce on him the second you both walk through the doorway. He sets the marigolds on your kitchen counter with a shit-eating grin, one that makes it even harder to maintain composure. "Beautiful flowers from a beautiful girl. How did I get so lucky?" He pulls you in, the notes of lavender and sage from his cologne tickling you to the core.

"It helps that you're beautiful also." You hide your face in his broad chest, your necklace rustling against his dress shirt. "Thank you," you whisper into his clothes.

"For what?" He rubs your back soothingly, the responding words easy to release when he's holding you so delicately.

"Not giving up on me when you had every reason to."

"I could never," he admits. He pulls your face away from his shirt to run his fingers across your cheek, adoring you with the simplest touch. "Just wanted to make you squirm a little longer."

You mock offense with a hand to your chest. Jake chuckles and kisses the corner of your mouth. "So mean," you taunt.

"You haven't seen mean, pretty girl." Jake brushes your hair away to kiss the nape of your neck, making you shiver. Trailing his lips down to your shoulder blade, he bites down on the curve of it to elicit a yelp from you. He eagerly swallows the sound with his lips, tongue entering your mouth without protest from you.

Jake knows all the ways to make you acquiesce, to fall deeper into him without thinking of looking back up. He makes you want to live in his touch like a second skin, and it's clear he feels the same when he holds you tight against his body.

Jake's thigh rubs your core through the front of your dress, and you whimper against his lips. He moves you both to the bed, slowly undressing you with reverence and soft kisses to each piece of newly revealed skin.

Once you're naked, save for your underwear, he sits up on his knees to admire the view. You don't shy away or cover yourself, too restless to touch and be touched to feel timid. And there are still too many clothes on him.

You tsk. "Not fair," you mumble, but you make quirk work of unbuttoning his shirt and pants with keen hands. You kiss the pulse point at his neck, his chest, and the tuft of hair below his belly button. By the time you're done, his flush cock poking your thigh and your cunt pulsing with need, you're both shaking with desperation.

"Sit on my face, pretty girl," he whispers.

You giggle, breathless and dazed. "What?"

"You heard me. I've been without this pretty pussy for too long," he emphasizes his point by moving your panties to the side and running his finger through the wetness along your folds. You're already breaking, and he treasures that. "I want to show her how much I missed her."

You both get comfortable, you positioning your legs on either side of his head and Jake running his hands along the outside of your thighs. You hover above his lips, scared to truly suffocate him between your skin, but he immediately slams you down onto his chin and makes work of lapping at your cunt.

His whimpers and whines match yours, his nose bumping your clit with every drag of his tongue along your core. It's like he's never tasted it before, the way he's lapping so vigorously. A starved man waiting for his last meal, so desperate yet so giving. Jake runs his tongue around your hole before sinking it inside, his eyes rolling back at the essence gathering on his tongue.

"Fuck, so sweet," he gasps, "My beautiful girl's dripping down my chin. I love the way you taste, you know that? You're amazing."

You nod, moaning wantonly, without true acknowledgement of his words. He retracts his lips from your cunt, and you whimper at the loss. "Say it, beautiful. I want to hear you say how amazing you are."

Jake teases his tongue along your wet walls again, and you buckle down against his face, riding it harder. "I-I'm—oh shit mmph—I'm amazing."

He hums in pleased agreement. He goes faster, bumping your clit with every quick lick and suck. You thrash with the encroaching release your body ardently craves. It wraps around you with each press of his mouth and tongue, and you want to let him take you to the precipice. "I know you're close, beautiful," he whispers into your mound, drunk on the feeling of your body at his mercy. "Be my good girl and come all over my face."

You do as you're told, crying out as your orgasm takes over your senses, endorphins washing over you in expansive ripples. You ride it out until the waves calm to a steady sea, your body wholly and utterly boneless. "Ah, fuck," you breathe out once you come down.

Jake repositions you so you're resting in his lap, his aching cock leaking pre-cum at the sight of your essence soaking your thighs. He presses kisses all over your face, not bothered by the sweat coating your forehead and cheeks. "So beautiful."

You flush, glowing under his praise. Without warning, he sheathes himself fully inside of you, your wetness making the glide effortless. There is still some give, your walls clenching around him as he slides in like he's finally back where he belongs.

"Oh fuck. You're so tight, every time." His head bumps the headboard as your pelvic bones brush, his hips flush with yours when he sinks you further down his cock. "I've missed this—fuck, missed you—so much."

"Me too, Yunnie. So much." Your body bows, taking him in completely without complaint.

"Think I'd die if I didn't get to feel you wrapped around me again," he babbles, lost in the feeling of your velvety walls encasing him. They flutter around him as you begin riding him, your movements slow but calculated to induce tremors. And he feels it, every touch of your hips against his, your slick thighs against him with each time he bottoms out. It's hedonistic heaven, a serene oasis he wants to drown in.

He groans into your chest before sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. You keen, arching your back into him deeper as you slam your hips down onto him. "Bounce on me, baby," he says, releasing your nipple with a pop before teasing the other one with his tongue. "Show me how much you've missed me."

Under his spell, you cater to Jake's every whim, rocking against him harder and grinding faster to push him closer to his release. He bites down on your collarbones to muffle his cries, the pleasure overloading his senses to the point he needs to occupy his mouth and hands with something else. He kneads your breasts as he sucks and licks the skin of your upper chest with care when it blooms a dark color under his lips. "So perfect, and all mine," he mumbles, rutting underneath you, creating stars when you close your eyelids.

"Fuck, Jaeyun, I'm gonna come again," you mewl.

"Me too, pretty girl. Come with me."

You fall together in pieces, the beautiful parts of both of you intermeshing until you're one again. Jake groans as his semen fills you with warmth, ropes of cum spurting out until you feel both of your releases seeping down your legs in droplets.

It's happiness, a passion so pure shared between two people sheltered from the outside world with their intensity.

It's perfection, the way Jake loves you so well. All you can do now is pray he knows you love him just as much, if not more.

Jake wraps himself around you, encasing you tightly after you exit his lap. Your thighs burn, your skin is sweaty, but you feel lit up from within Jake's arms.

"You look happy," Jake says finally with a dopey grin, chest rising and falling.

Once upon a time, you would've brushed his words off with a quick kiss and witty comeback to hide your denial. Now, you don't deflect. You take him and his words with acceptance, knowing for the first time that his words go beyond the surface, their truth undeniable.

"I am."

This time, you step out of the car.

You nod at the respective girls waiting for their boyfriends as you rest against the passenger side door of your car. Your clothes aren't as revealing as theirs, but that's okay; someday you will be ready to be as confident as them, but the first step was exiting the driver's side. "Progress," as Felix would say with a teasing smirk and elbow to your side.

The girls all smile and acknowledge you, but Winter, Felix's girlfriend, waves back with a jovial energy that makes you wave back. Your heart swells thinking about how close you've gotten to Jake's friend group in only two months, even when you believed you would be shamed or outcasted for your appearance. Sometimes, you kick yourself for believing they would repeat the history of taunts and teases you know too well. Building armor was necessary years ago, but now, you can disarm without fear of judgement.

Sure, people like Wonyoung will continue to exist, and the doubts will always fester somewhere in your head like unpickable weeds. But you can dispel both with self-affirming words and kindness now, no longer weak to the worst skeletons in your closet. You're stronger, for both yourself and the boy you love.

There's not a lot of certainties in life, but one promise you can keep without fail is never coming so close to losing Jake again.

Like clockwork, Jake and your mutual friends walk off of the field with their gym bags in tow and sweat drenching them head to toe. Felix's newly dyed red hair is practically the same color as their practice gear, and you chuckle at the sight.

Hearing your voice, Jake's eyes lock on yours. He rifles the stray bangs from his eyes almost to confirm it's you waiting for him and not an apparition. His ensuing grin is so bright it can put the moon to shame, as usual.

"Whoa, guys," Jake says with a flourish, raising both of his arms to stop his friends from moving further across the parking lot to their significant others. You roll your eyes as you smile, shy for all the right reasons. "That's my girlfriend, right? Or am I seeing things?"

"Can you not be so down bad for her in front of us, Sim? It's gross," Felix teases, but he smiles in your direction when you wave to the guys surrounding your boyfriend.

"Whatever, cherry bomb. Tell Winter I said to go easy on the Splat next time." Jake slaps his friend on the shoulder before running towards you, his gym bag swinging in all directions while strapped to his shoulder. His teammates holler at their captain for his eagerness to be next to you, but neither of you care.

You both may be out of the shadows, but you still feel like the only two people in the world when you're with each other, onlookers and inner critics be damned.

"Hi." Jake says when he makes it to you, his body a few feet from yours. He drops his bag at his side before intertwining your fingers together, his hot and moist palms making a home in your cold ones. "You look beautiful."

"You look sweaty." Before Jake can compose a rebuttal, you slam your lips into his, teeth clashing as your tongues meet. Jake kisses you back earnestly, sounds of pleasure muffled against your mouth. He rests his hands on your hips as your fingers weave through his hair, scratching your nails along his scalp. His lips taste like salted caramel and fatigue and home, and it makes you fall in love for the thousandth time. "But I'm still into that," you say with a grin when you pull away.

"Oh, really?" His smirk reminds you of all of his kisses, his touches, and his love that has brought you here. And today, for the first time in a long while, there's no fear at all. No doubt creeping in to keep you on guard or tell you the happiness is temporary.

It's just peace.

"Always."

── .✦ 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 (𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗟𝗬 𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘):

@xylatox @tinycatharsis @filmnings @lovetaroandtaemin @gyubookeries @jaylaxies @innocygnet @anormieee @lollipop3 @fancypeacepersona @luvksnn @k1ttyjwon @hii01mii @nithxhoon @cutehoons02 @invsomnixa1 @lilyofthevalley6 @mossarine @blooqz @firstclassjaylee @seongiewon @rairaiblog @jakessrealwife @bbokaricentral

© 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗨; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒, 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗀𝗂𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗓𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗌!

[straykeedz-recs]

THIS IS SO CUTE AND ADORABLE STOP

cat meow-tchmaker •⩊•

pairing: park jongseong x reader genre: neighbors to overs, smau/fake texts, romance, fluff warnings: friends teasing each other, dumb humor, profanity, some suggestive stuff, mentions of edibles (weed), 18+

synopsis: jay randomly finds a small gray kitten in his home and soon finds that the cute kitten's owner is a lot cuter.

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @manaah02 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @kristynaaah @17ericas @heeseung64 @leipforggy @s1rawb3rry

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[straykeedz-recs]

Library Section #4:

Tiny Dancer

[Lee Know]

POV: After you and your best friend Lee Know sleeep together at a party, you find out you’re pregnant. After struggling to tell him, you do and he chooses his image over you. You find support in 3 of the other members, who step up to help. Eventually, Lee Know comes around, but will his apology make up for his absence?

•BACK TO MAIN LIBRARY•

PART 1 PART 6

PART 2 PART 7

PART 3 PART 8

PART 4 PART 9

PART 5 PART 10

[straykeedz-recs]

achromatic - (adj) without color | pt 1

-> In a world of black and white, you only see colors after a kiss with your soulmate. Too bad your "soulmate" happens to be best friends with your enemy. Just make sure you don't kiss the wrong one. 

bad boy!minho x fem!reader

enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, soulmate!au, he fell first and he fell harder

14.8K

warnings: cursing, kissing/making out, alcohol/drunkenness, mentions of toxic parents, overbearing responsibility and burn out, lowkey hurtful teasing

I'm going to be honest, this story has been in the making for a very very long time 😭 I'm so relieved it's here, so hopefully it's actually good and not just me lol

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You wish for death. 

No seriously, if one more person orders spicy vegan ramen with a seasoned egg, you'll physically combust. The irritating part is that people order the dish like they're being super healthy or somehow superior because they're ordering a vegan option. 

News flash: if you add an egg, it's not vegan. 

Felix places another steaming bowl of noodles on the counter and taps his palm on the bell beside it. He smiles when you approach the bar, his eyes the only things visible when you peer into the kitchen though the small space meant for ramen bowls. 

"Please end me," you mumble while balancing the bowl and a freshly prepared plate of dumpling appetizers in your hands. 

"At least it's Friday. One more day and then your extended weekend commences." Felix chuckles at your over-exaggerated sigh. 

"You have no idea how much I need this." 

Working a full time job is hard enough as it is without working a part time gig on top of it. Ever since you moved out of your parents' place and started providing for yourself, it's been work work work all the time. But no matter how crappy you feel after a seemingly never ending work week, it's nothing compared to how crappy you felt living in that house.  

Having Saturday, Sunday, and Monday off means a significantly smaller paycheck, but it also means actual sleep for the first time in god knows how long. 

You return to Felix's counter with another ticket in hand, and he gets to work preparing another bowl of, you guessed it, spicy vegan ramen with a seasoned egg. 

"You'll need this break for when you come back, for sure," he comments nonchalantly, tossing his noodles in the strainer and whistling while he works. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"You know," Felix says, flicking his cooking chopsticks at you, "how you're taking over for Jaq while he's at that leadership conference." 

"Umm, no I'm not.” 

"According to the schedule, you are." 

"I never said I would cover him. I'm not a manager, so I can't anyway, remember? They said a raise for me wasn't in the budget.” 

Felix shrugs, his eyes bouncing to the back wall where your weekly schedules are posted. "Well, you might wanna talk to Jaq about that considering he's got you covering as manager all next week." 

"Are you serious?" 

"Dead ass.” 

Sure enough, when you approach the calendar on the wall, there's your name in the exact spot Jaq's name is supposed to be. Operational Manager. All week. Extra responsibility but no extra pay. 

"But--" your opposition is interrupted by chimes, signaling more customers have entered the building. 

You make a mental note to contact Jaq before you leave. This isn't the first time your manager has attempted to hand off his responsibilities to you, and unless you say something, it won't be the last. Yeah, you're a good worker and you're willing to go the extra mile, but a line has to be drawn somewhere. If you're gonna make it anywhere in this damn world, you can't afford to be a doormat. 

Reaching back to tighten your ponytail, you plaster a smile on your face and go greet your new customers. 

"Hi, welcome to--" 

"Hey, __." 

"Jisung?" You splurt his name through frazzled lips and brush off your apron. "Hey, what are you, uhh, doing here?"  

Jisung chuckles, resting his elbows on the hostess stand and leaning over to smile at your unexpected reaction. "I wanted some ramen, and someone told me this place has the best in town." 

With an agonizingly girly giggle, you affirm his tip is true, twirling a strand of your ponytail around a finger. "Who told you that?” 

“A friend.” He shrugs, his shoulders becoming even broader for a split second, making your knees lock. "So, can we get a table?" 

Your brow furrows in confusion. "We?" 

At that moment, the familiar chimes of the front door sound again and in walks the mood killer himself. 

"I couldn't find a parking space up front, so we're all the way in the back corner, Jisung." The new guy flashes you a smirk, scanning up and down your body with intentionality. "Hey, ___." 

All your flirty body language dies as your chest sinks in despair. 

"Hi, Minho." 

“I totally forgot you work here now.” 

“I'm sure you did.” You look back to Jisung. "Is this…?" 

"Yeah!" he exclaims, throwing an arm around his friend's shoulder. "He's the one who suggested this place. I didn't realize you worked here either. I thought you were over at that plant house place still.” 

“Oh. I am…” 

“Wait, so you work both jobs?” 

“Uh, yeah. It's not a long term thing. Just until I can save up some money, you know.” 

Jisung just smiles at you, completely oblivious to the embarrassment spreading across your cheeks. 

Minho flashes you an amused smirk, but you refuse to acknowledge it. Grabbing two menus and sets of chopsticks, you lead the boys to a table by the bathroom and take their drink order. 

"Coke!" Jisung says with a grin, one big enough to spark a smile on your lips as well. 

Then Minho opens his annoying mouth. 

"Do you have Pepsi?" 

"No," you say with the most polite tone you can manage, "we have Coke products." 

"I'll take a Sierra Mist." 

Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. 

"Is Sprite okay?" 

Minho thinks hard for a moment – a long moment – enjoying the impatient way your toe taps on the floor. 

"I guess so.” He sits back, hiding his face with his menu, but you can still see the cheeky way his shoulders bounce as he holds back a laugh. 

Turning on your heel, you head to the drink station to make their sodas. You're not supposed to feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up unless it's like a fight or flight situation, right? Every single strand has been on high alert since Minho's unrealistically proportioned face came staggering through the door. 

No, you don't like him. But that doesn't make you blind. Minho is handsome (not as handsome as Jisung), and that's probably one of the reasons for his ridiculously cocky attitude. His head has been filled with egotistical nonsense since he was born, convinced he doesn't have to work hard to get anything while people like you work their butts off just so they can live in a non-toxic environment. 

"___, pssttt!" 

You calmly follow Felix's totally inconspicuous gesture for you to come closer to the counter. 

"What?" 

"Is that him?" Felix asks, whispering as loud as can be. 

You try not to make it obvious to the boys that you're talking about them, but in the end it's probably pretty obvious, what with the way both of you repeatedly glance in their direction. 

You answer Felix with a shy nod. 

"He's so cute!" 

"Shhh! Do you want him to hear us?" If you weren't carrying two drinks you'd slap your hand over the doofus' mouth. "Back off, he's mine." 

Felix giggles. He gives you a little wink and nod, silently approving of your long term crush he's only just recently earned the right to know about. 

Jisung thanks you when you place their drinks down. His voice itself makes you almost blush, but you manage to control the rush of your heartbeat by subjecting your eyes to the other guest at the table. 

"Did you have any questions about the menu?" 

Minho taps his chin, his finger grazing over the menu options like he's choosing his career path. 

Jisung playfully scoffs at his friend. He lifts his chin towards you and asks, "Which one is your favorite?" 

"Me? I like the classic chicken ramen. But I usually get it without the chicken. The Tonkotsu is good too...but I usually get it without the pork." 

Jisung licks his lips. Obviously your suggestions sound good to him, which makes you feel useful, and you get to watch his tongue slip over his lips, leaving behind a glistening coat which only proves to make them look even more attractive somehow. 

He orders the Tonkatsu like you suggested (with the pork but that's okay, he's still adorable), and then it's Minho's turn. 

"I'll have the Spicy Vegan ramen.” 

“Okay, anything el–” 

“Can I get a seasoned egg in it too?” 

There's no way Minho could have known about your little pet peeve, but that doesn't stop your brain from being convinced he just did that on purpose. 

"Of course," you write down their orders, pen digging into your pad, "anything else?" 

"No thanks," Jisung says, handing you the menus. 

Your finger brushes over his thumb for only a brief moment, but it's all your stomach needed to start doing flips. 

Running back to Felix's counter, you give him their order and continue to serve the other scarce customers in the store. No matter how tempted you are to eavesdrop on their conversation just to hear Jisung's deep, melodic voice, you manage to preoccupy yourself with at least somewhat productive tasks until their orders are ready. 

"Here you go, Jisung, one Tonkatsu for you. I really hope you like it." Jisung matches your smile when you place the bowl in front of him, already breaking his chopsticks and getting ready to dig in. 

When you turn to the other guest, he's waiting patiently, arms crossed and lips flat. 

"Spicy Vegan...with an egg." You drop the bowl on the table in front of him. 

"Thanks," Minho responds, copying your deadpan tone. 

"Let me know if you need anything else," you tell the table (Jisung). "I'll just be right over there, by the counter." 

Jisung can't audibly answer you because he's currently got his face halfway in a bowl of ramen, but he gives you a thumbs up before you walk away. 

Felix whistles his soft tune while you begin cleaning the counter, nonchalantly whistling along. 

"So," he says after a moment. 

"So." 

"Not a fan of the friend, huh?" 

"It's not that," you sigh, obviously conflicted, "Minho wasn't always a bad guy." 

"So there's a history?" Felix sings, tossing a pan in the sink behind him and beginning to scrub while talking over his shoulder. "Do tell." 

You carry over a large stack of menus and begin spraying them down one by one. 

"I mean, he and Jisung have been brothers for, god, I don't even know how long. And then when I joined their friend group, we all got along really well. And then Minho found--" you lower your voice and lean in closer so Felix can hear you over the running water in the sink, "found out I have a crush on, you know…" 

"Yeah?" Felix urges you to continue, grabbing a towel to dry his hands. 

"And he just never let me live it down. He teased me about it all the time. It got so bad I stopped going over, stopped hanging out. I didn't even tell them I got this job. Minho must have found out somehow." You glance in the boys' direction, Jisung practically spewing ramen from his nose because Minho said something funny. “Sometimes it feels like he's trying to be mean just to be mean, and sometimes, I don't know, it's like he has to have my attention at all times and never lets me talk with Jisung alone."

"How dramatic." 

"I know, right? Oh, hold on." 

You notice Jisung's drink is almost empty so you quickly make a second Coke and bring it to the table. 

"Here you go," you say, tucking a loose strand of your ponytail behind your ear as you give him the drink. 

Jisung instantly lights up. "Thanks, ___! By the way, this ramen is amazing. Your reputation precedes you." 

“I'm glad you like it. You always eat so well.” 

Jisung is smiling at you, and it's wonderful, until— 

“Ow! Dude!” He jerks in his chair, a harsh movement caused by Minho kicking his shin under the table. You stand with raised brows, unsure of how you're supposed to react in this situation. 

"Ugh," Jisung blinks, reaching under the table to sooth his leg, "so, we're having a party this Sunday at our place. You should come. It'll be fun, like old times." 

Like old times? As if the time when you were all friends is some distant memory from decades ago. You did distance yourself without a detailed explanation, but you also tried to keep up with him as much as possible. Your crush on him never faltered, that's for sure. Things must have looked a little different from his point of view. 

Minho's expectant expression is not helping you answer. Of course, if this was any normal weekend you'd just say you have work, but you're gonna be on a break. You could lie, but it'd be too easy to get caught if they happened to visit here again. Besides, you wouldn't mind going to Jisung's apartment for a party if it weren't for one tiny detail who's name starts with M. 

"I'm actually driving my little sister to her date this weekend, so…" 

"Really? Where is it?' 

"The movie theater. They're catching a late showing of that new movie. The one with Dylan O'Brien, I think." 

Jisung perks up, almost knocking over his bowl of half eaten ramen with his elbow. "That's perfect! Drop her off and then come hang out with us. You can leave whenever you need to pick her up after the movie." 

"What's the party for again?" 

"Minho and I have been roommates for a whole year." 

"You're celebrating...your roommate anniversary?" 

"We did it at 6 months," Jisung informs you casually, because two dudes celebrating the day they moved in together is totally normal and not gay at all. 

Minho takes a large slurp of his noodles. "If you don't wanna come, we can invite someone else," he smacks, turning to Jisung with excited eyes. "Remember that cute girl from--" 

"I can come," you interrupt, trying to be casual and failing. 

Minho swallows, his eyes shifting to you with a knowing smirk. "Really? We don't wanna force you if you're gonna be busy." 

You shake your head, tightening your ponytail with a harsh pull. "It's fine. Like Jisung said, I can chill while my sister is in the movie." 

"Great." 

"Great." 

“Fine.” 

“Fine.” 

Jisung doesn't notice, but it's there. The heat rising between you and Minho is so hot it makes you feel sticky underneath your long slacks and work pollo. You'd love to give his cheeky smile a right smack across the face. 

For now, all you can do is ask one question. 

"Is the check going to be together or separate?" 

:: 

Tossing your bag and keys on the counter, you fall into your kitchen chair and drop your head into your arms. Exhausted from your shift, the ticking of the clock on your wall doesn't let up. You really should buy a silent clock, but that one was so cheap. 

You would have felt better if you had the chance to catch Jaq after your shift, but the douchebag ditched before you could. He won't answer your calls or any of your texts asking about the week you're supposedly going to be managing in his place. It's not like being a manager is difficult; you've run a shift by yourself before, but it's the fact that he didn't ask, and it's not like you're getting paid overtime. 

If you had the guts, you'd just ditch too and let the store go up in flames without leadership. But unfortunately, your sense of responsibility is too adamant. Jaq knows it too, which is why he's ignoring you right now. People who pull manipulative bullshit like that really make you angry. 

You should quit. But there's one reason you won't. 

"___!" The sound of your younger sister tumbling down the hallway doesn't faze you. "You're home!" 

Ava is, in one word, stunning. Her body is perfectly symmetrical, as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Her hair is long and wavy and never tangled, always soft. Her eyes are large and innocent, and when she speaks it's like a beautiful spring rain after a drought; everyone listens. Even wearing torn or poorly made clothes, she is exquisite. She's kind and humble and optimistic even in the midst of struggles. Everyone wants to be her and everyone wants to love her. 

But damn, she's clumsy. 

"Whoa!" The familiar sound of Ava falling flat on her face forms a smile on your lips. You rest your chin on the table, peeking up to see her fumbling back to her feet. 

She plops down across from you and reaches out to hold your hand. "How was work?" 

"We're ordering pizza." 

"That good, huh?" 

The smile you share is incomparable. Ava may only be fifteen, but she’s been through shit, and it shows in her maturity level and emotional intelligence. 

Eventually, you were old enough to stand up to your parents' toxic behavior, but Ava, still being a minor, there wasn't really anything she could do. Saving your younger sibling from that household was your top priority after finally getting your own place and money. 

Getting your mom to agree to let Ava live with you was a fight, one you were beyond determined to win. Because you both had to grow up so quickly, living together has actually been fairly smooth. You've been able to healthily demonstrate what a home is supposed to be and feel like for her. Yeah, providing for two people on minimum wage is tough, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Ava is very responsible and much wiser than most teenagers you would say. Which is nice when you're stressed but don't have the words to explain you want space. She's your rock. Just as much as you saved Ava, she's rescued you from things she doesn't even realize. 

After the pizza is ordered and you've successfully changed into comfy pants, Ava pulls you into her room and begins ravaging through her closet while you sit on her bed.  

"I'm so nervous," she confides in you, "I think he's gonna ask me to be his girlfriend." 

One thing you really appreciate about your sister is the way she trusts people. Not to say she does so easily. On the contrary, Ava’s trust is one of the most difficult things someone will earn in their entire life. But once you've got it, you've got it. She'll never give you a reason to doubt her trust. 

"Girlfriend status? Ooooo, what makes you think that?" you ask with a playful shimmy. 

Ava throws an outfit onto the bed next to you. "Because...reasons." 

"What reasons?" 

After fishing out one more outfit, Ava launches onto the bed, facing you and suddenly holding both your hands. "Okay, so you were dealing with a lot last week getting your bosses to agree to a break, and I didn't want to pile onto that but...I have some news." 

You wait in anticipation. 'News' could be good or bad, but based on the way her eyes are literally twinkling, you're assuming it's good news. 

"Jeongin kissed me." 

"He what?!" 

Ava buries her face in your hands, squealing and giggling. For a moment, you're reminded she's only fifteen, even though most of the time she acts so much older. 

"It was so fucking cute! We were sitting there and he just looked at me and asked 'can I kiss you?' And of course I said 'yes' and then he kissed me and it was just ugh!” 

“When was this!?” 

“Last week.” 

"Ava, that's adorable! Why didn't you tell me?" 

She swings your arms and shyly plays with the spaces between your fingers. "You were so stressed and I knew you needed space and sleep, so I decided to wait. But oh my god, I'm so glad I told you because I don't think I could have waited another day," she sighs, legitimately relieved. 

You smile. You can tell Ava is legitimately happy to have had her first kiss. You're even happier to know it was with someone she likes and who likes her. You've only met Jeongin in passing a few times, but you trust your sister's judgment, and if this guy can earn Ava's trust, then he's got yours too. 

"So now your only issue is…?”  

"What do I wear to our movie date? I'm really nervous he's gonna ask me to be his girlfriend, and I wanna look as mature as possible so he doesn't have any second thoughts." 

"Ava," you reassure her with a stroke of her hair, "you're plenty mature enough. You should enjoy having a first boyfriend. Enjoy kissing, enjoy going out, enjoy school. You've grown up so much already, so you can slow down for one movie date. I don't want you to worry about anything, alright? Of course, he's not going to have second thoughts. Just promise me you're going to enjoy being fifteen." 

The way your sister watches you, so much respect, thankfulness, and love, warms your chest, but also lays one of the heaviest burdens you've ever felt on it. She looks up to you, in a way she never looked up to your parents. Your greatest fear is letting her down. 

"I promise." 

It takes longer than you were expecting to pick out an outfit. The pizza came a while ago and after three slices, Ava has filtered through over half her closet. 

"What was wrong with the last one?" you ask, stuffing the last bite of crust into your mouth. 

Your sister is beyond distressed. Her long hair has fallen out of the messy bun she originally tied up in preparation, and her floor is littered with unworthy dresses and jeans. 

"It doesn't look right." 

"It looks fine--" 

"The colors don’t match!" Ava slaps her hand over her lips, eyes wide in shock at what she just said. 

"What did you say?" 

"Nothing." 

Ava tries to put away the outfit, but you keep a firm grip and refuse to let her take it. 

"What. Did. You. Say?" you ask again, this time firmer. 

Your sister doesn't answer. She slowly weakens her hold on the dress until it slips from her grasp. She doesn't have to say anything else. Her guilty expression and inability to look you in the eye says it all. 

"You're seeing color," you accuse. 

Ava winces. 

Taking her by the shoulders, you sit Ava on the bed and cross your legs beneath yourself, scooting closer until she has no choice but to face you. "Since when?" 

She's hesitant to say, but eventually she releases her trapped bottom lip and tells you, "Since...we kissed." 

"Since you kissed?" 

"Yeah…” 

That's how you see color. A first kiss with your soulmate. Even if you don't consciously decide this, your subconscious connects the dots and begins planting idea after idea in the back of your mind. 

“I'm sorry, ___.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” you ask gently. “It's great that you see color after kissing Jeongin. That means he's your soulmate, right?” 

“I guess so…I just feel bad.” 

“About what?” 

She doesn't say it exactly, but she doesn't have to. Both of you are acutely aware of your deep desire to see color, while Ava has never really shown any interest in the matter. Of the two of you, you're the one who's been harboring a crush and praying religiously for the chance of a life-changing kiss. But Ava got it first. 

“Listen to me,” you bring her eyes to yours, speaking softly so as not to copy or trigger any past trauma you know you both have when it comes to jealousy in the home, “I'm happy for you, Ava. Really. And I want to hear every detail.” 

“You're not mad?” 

You shake your head with a safe smile, giving her hand a squeeze. “No, I'm not mad. I could never be mad that you're happy.” 

“Thanks, ___.” 

Ava looks around the room, obviously scanning over the different colors she can see. Can she see all of them? Are they clear? Was it a sudden click or did they develop over time? How many are there? Are they bright? Within the lines? There are a thousand questions you could ask, but your lips land on one… 

"What does it look like?" 

"I don't know how to explain it," Ava admits quietly. "It's just...better." 

You scoop up a dress off the floor and hold it up. "What color is this?" 

“Red.” 

“What does red look like?” 

Your sister hisses, "I'm not sure how to explain it, but it's close to the same color as the sauce on the pizza." 

Pizza sauce? People wear stuff the same color as food? Isn't that weird though? 

"How about this one?" you ask, shoving a pair of jeans in her face. 

“Blue?” She shrugs. "I mean it's not fully blue, but I really don't know what to call it. There's so many names, and I haven't learned them all yet.” 

"Sorry," you mutter in realization. Of course she wouldn't know everything yet. It's been less than a week since Jeongin kissed her, and here you are asking her to name colors left and right. 

It's rude to ask someone who can see color what color things are when you can't even possibly understand their answer. This is because usually it's someone younger bugging someone who's older, but Ava is fifteen! Seeing color that young is almost unheard of. 

"Does Jeongin see it too?" 

Your sister tries not to smile for your own emotional sanity, but it's difficult when you start mentioning her soon-to-be beau. She nods, and your world somehow crashes and becomes electrified at the same time. 

Your little sister found her soulmate. She's found her person, her best friend, her partner in crime, her lifetime lover. This is a beautiful thing, but try as you will to shut down the feeling, your chest is sinking into your stomach. You feel sick. Why couldn't it have been you? 

"Ava?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I know this may be kinda rude, but...could I ask you one more question?" 

"Of course." 

You lift your chin, gaze flicking between your sister’s still colorless eyes. “What color are my eyes?” 

Ava smiles. She places a gentle hand on your cheek, brushing upwards to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "The same as mine. Beautiful." 

After a decently lengthy crying session, you feel better. Ava cuddles you on the couch while you watch one of your favorite movies and devour the rest of the pizza. She offers you the last piece, but you insist she have it. 

What Ava doesn't realize is the way your insides churn at the thought of losing her to some boy, no matter how lovely and colorful he may be, the same way it churns at the thought of you never knowing the color of pizza sauce. 

As you sit with Ava, her new-found joy in color and first love is so raw and innocent. You feel a sudden tightness in your chest, a fear you didn’t expect. It's like you're losing her to Jeongin, to someone else who’s going to be the one she turns to, the one she laughs with, the one she confides in. 

The one she sees the world with. 

She won't need you anymore. 

A part of you wants to hold on, but you know it's good that she’s growing up, and this is what’s meant to happen. It just sucks that it hasn't happened to you yet. 

But you shouldn't forget, you have the ability to take control over what happens in your story from here on out. And apparently all you need...is a kiss. 

:: 

Welcome! To! Our! Apt! Enjoy! The! Party! Happy! Roommate-versary! 

Jisung would put an exclamation mark between every word. The hanging sign on the front door doesn't help your nervousness, and neither does the deep bass of pop music coming from inside. Have none of his neighbors said anything? He's so charming, they probably tried, and he just sweet talked his way out of it. 

Maybe this isn't such a great idea. It sounds loud in there, and you'll probably just end up sticking to the wall anyway. Maybe you should just go back to the movie theater parking lot and watch YouTube until Ava’s date is over– 

You gasp when the door suddenly swings open to reveal a tipsy Jisung, plastic cup in his hand, and a party hat perched cattywampus on his hair. His boba eyes are wide, glassy from the alcohol, and his grin is infectious, radiating warmth. 

As soon as he sees you, his smile spreads even wider. "You're here! Thank god!” His voice, though slurred, is full of excitement, his words tumbling out like a little kid. 

And all of a sudden, you're drawn in. His cheeks are warm and a little swollen, as if he's been pinching them too much. They carry a subtle, inviting glow, the kind you get from a little too much laughter and a lot of good vibes. His expression is lit up from within, contagious to the point of recklessness that makes him seem more alive than ever. 

He looks mesmerizingly beautiful despite the stretched t-shirt and ripped jeans. You can’t help but notice the glistening sheen on his lips and the oddly shaped spot on his neck. 

His eyes stay locked on you as if you’re the only thing in the room, the chaos of the party fading into the background. You feel it in your gut – a magnetic pull, something that has you enchanted and undeniably drawn in. It’s just a smile. Just Jisung, drunk and goofy. But why does your heart skip like this? 

“Come on,” he grabs your hand, his skin much too hot for comfort, “We need one more person to make it even!” 

“Even?” you manage a single word but nothing more before he's dragging you inside. 

Your nerves twist up tighter as you step inside, the music pounding through your chest. The apartment is packed. Friends laugh, drink, and mill about, making it hard to focus on anything other than the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. 

He pulls you along to join a large circle of people, all equally or more drunk off whatever liquor is in their cups.

“Our final player is finally here!” Jisung announces. “Let the game continue!” 

A drink is immediately thrust into your hand. You stare at it, trying to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach. It's probably best you don't drink right now, after all, you still have to drive Ava home later. 

"Game?" you ask, confused.

“Yeah, we're playing The Colorblind Test,” he explains casually. 

“What!?” 

Jisung just laughs and claps you on the back. "Don't worry, it's all in good fun!” 

Giggles commence from boys and girls alike all around the circle. From a simple observation you can see which individuals have had more luck of the draw, and which are still waiting for their turn. 

You've heard of the game, but never played. It's typically more of a party game, and you don't often find yourself at parties. The rules are fairly simple, so you're not unfamiliar with them. 

Everyone's names are put into a hat, and then two names are drawn. Those two people put on blindfolds and are shoved into a closet. Then they kiss. When they come out, the blindfolds are removed, and everyone asks if they can see color or not. 

Rinse and repeat. 

It may seem progressive, but it's really just for horny singles who want to make out under the guise of finding their soulmate. It's not a classy game in the least, and you don't know of a single couple who's met and lasted because of it. 

Hold on – your eyes are immediately glued onto Jisung. His swollen lips, spots along his neck, puffy cheeks, stretched t-shirt. His name has definitely been drawn more than once. 

Your stomach sinks. 

He's the only person you would even want to kiss. And as your name is written on a piece of paper and dropped into the hat, your heart leaps into your throat at the thought of being stuck with anyone else. 

You take a quick search of the room for a head count, doing quick mental math to see what chances you have of your name and Jisung’s name being drawn together. 

That's when you see him. 

Minho is lounging on the floor, back against the foot of the couch. He's the only one without a drink in his hand or a spill on his clothes. You knew he had to be here (it is partially his party after all), but he doesn't appear too interested in the game when the hat is shaken in preparation for the next draw. 

As the chaos of the party continues behind you, his eyes lock on yours. It’s as if all the noise and movement fades into the background. You can feel his focus on you like a tangible thing, incapable of being broken. His expression is unreadable, but there's something sharp, something grounded in his gaze that makes you realize almost instantly…he’s definitely sober. 

He’s the only one here with that steady clarity in his eyes, the only one not swaying or grinning like a fool. His posture is relaxed, but there’s a tension in the way he watches you, almost like he’s waiting for something, but what?

Then, amidst the laughter and makeshift drum rolls, you hear it: 

“___ and Jisung!” 

The announcement barely registers with you at first. But then you notice Minho's reaction. It’s subtle, but it’s there. His expression shifts, and for a moment, you swear you catch the flicker of something close to panic in his eyes. 

He blinks, and then it’s gone, masked by his former stoic demeanor, but he heard. 

And he's not thrilled. 

Several arms are suddenly around you, taking your drink, wrapping a blindfold around your eyes, and playfully shoving you in the direction of an empty bedroom. 

You’re too thrown off to argue, and before you know it, you’re standing in a dark room, the air conditioner blowing low and thick from the ceiling vent. Sounds are muffled by the blindfold covering half your ears. All you can do is carefully reach out in front of you, turning left and then right, trying to find some kind of dresser or wall you can brace yourself against. 

“Hello?” you try, voice small.  

You can feel it before you even hear him move, the subtle shift in the air, the sensation that someone else is right behind you. 

His presence is undeniable, like a calm yet steady force that fills the space. It’s not invasive, but it’s undeniable. There’s something about the way he stands that makes the room feel smaller, more intimate. Your heart starts to beat a little faster, not out of fear, but because his energy is magnetic and you want him to be closer. 

You turn around, senses sharp even though your vision is obscured. Your hand reaches out, tentative, searching for him in the darkened space. It brushes against something solid, warm. 

His chest. 

Your palm instinctively flattens against him, feeling the growing rise and fall beneath your fingertips. The outline of his body is strong, his muscles shifting subtly beneath his shirt when he breathes, his heartbeat getting faster under your hand. 

And then, without warning, his hand closes around your wrist. It’s a firm, gentle grip, and before you can register it fully, he’s pulling you closer, your body pressed against his in an intimate yet careful movement.

You barely have time to process before he leans down, his breath mingling with yours. There’s no rush. His lips hover just close enough for you to feel the warmth, for you to melt into the moment as he gives you a chance to push him away. 

But you don't. 

You push forward that last inch and close the space with confidence. When your lips finally meet, it’s like the world drops away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in the softness of a kiss that speaks volumes with no sound. 

The kiss deepens instantly, the air between you both thickening with desire. His lips are urgent now, pulling you in as his arms wrap around you, strong and secure. Every movement feels instinctive, like you both know exactly what comes next without thinking. It's raw and urgent, with none of the precision but all of the passion.  

You feel the overwhelming urge to be closer in whatever way possible. So, you start to silently beg, needy hands finding their way to his shoulders as you try to climb him to bring yourself even nearer, the heat of his body against yours becoming addictive. Your chest presses against his, and his grip on you tightens, his hands on the curve of your back, tempted but respectfully not gripping your ass (unfortunately). 

When your tongues finally meet, it’s a slow, deliberate movement, exploring and teasing as you both lose yourselves in the rhythm. He tastes like defiance, like a long forgotten rule just waiting to be broken. He's electric, untamed and unfiltered, the taste of freedom in its purest form. He makes you want to be wild and unrestrained, and do anything and everything you know you shouldn't. 

The room spins, but all you can focus on is the feeling of him against you and how much you want his weight on top of you. A low groan escapes his throat, as though he's assuring you that he’s more than willing to provide whatever you want, halfway caught between pathetic submission and claiming ownership. 

You can physically feel his desperation growing, his grip tightening on your waist, his lips moving faster, harder, like he’s afraid the moment may end too soon. He’s starting to get a little rough with the way he holds you, jerking you into him and sinking his teeth into your lips like they've always been his. 

Each time he successfully draws a small sound from you, his body reacts in a sinfully wonderful way. 

Suddenly, your feet stumble underneath you, and before you can regain balance, you fall backwards onto a bed with a grunt. He follows too, but somehow, his body doesn't crush you. There’s an ease in the way he hovers, supporting himself on his arms just enough to keep the weight from overwhelming you, but still close enough to feel overtaken by him in the best way. 

You know this is getting dangerous. You can tell by the way your hips shift to make room for him, the way his kisses abandon your lips to trace down your neck, the way his hand asks for permission to slide up the inside of your thigh. 

You don't want him to stop, as your fingers grip his hair. 

“Jisung…” you mutter breathlessly, barely able to get the name out as your world starts to melt past the point of no return. 

He freezes above you, his body stiffening in a way that’s too noticeable. He doesn’t say a word, but you can feel the shift in the air between you two. His kisses halt, his weight slowly lifting. 

Before you can ask him what's wrong, the door swings open with a loud bang. A chorus of giggles and applause enters the room, bombarding you in stimulus you were not prepared for. 

All of a sudden, he's ripped from you. Your hand attempts to hang onto him by his collar, refusing to let go until his shirt is stretched so far, you hear a small rip in the fabric. 

You’re surrounded by people who drag you outside before you can even catch your bearings, voices loud and unforgiving. It’s like the world has suddenly snapped back into reality, and you’re left disoriented, heart racing and mind in a fog. 

You're shoved out of the room. Before you're even balanced on your feet, the blindfold is pulled off your face. 

Your eyes flutter open, trying to adjust to the light. 

Standing in front of you is a shocked Jisung, half in disbelief and half in amusement. He doesn't seem at all affected by the brightness of the room, with one arm draped around the shoulder of a friend and the other hand holding his drink, as though the chaos of the moment is nothing but a joke to him. 

He’s giggling, light and carefree. And then he looks at you, his eyes practically sparkling. 

“Well?” he asks eagerly, as if you were just participating in some innocent, playful game. “See anything?” 

You blink again, your heart pounding in your chest, and slowly, the reality sinks in.

It wasn’t Jisung you kissed.

Your gaze shifts to the man beside you. He's adjusting his jeans in the most obvious way, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

The collar of his shirt. Ripped. 

Minho. 

His eyes dart briefly to yours, and there’s a subtle tension in his posture. His expression mirrors your shock for only a moment, and then he shows a cocky, winning smile. 

“You tricked me?” 

“Don’t worry.” Minho flashes you a grin, his voice dripping with playful amusement. “You get a five-star review for that kiss, baby.” 

He high-fives a friend like it was nothing. Like he didn't just crack your heart. Like he's not the biggest ass you've ever met and will ever meet. Like he doesn't even care about soulmates or love or anything respectful. 

Like he's never cared about you even in the slightest. 

You stand there, frozen in place, unable to fully process the whirlwind of emotions knocking you down. Your heart feels heavy in your chest, each aching beat reverberating with disbelief. The world seems to tilt on its axis, and the ground beneath you is unsteady, as if you're the one who's drunk. 

What just happened? How did that happen? The kiss…so intense, so electric, so real…it felt so right in the moment. The possibility of it being someone other than Jisung didn't even cross your mind. Because how could someone do something that cruel? 

Your head is spinning. The air feels thick, suffocating, as if every breath you take is too sharp, too much. You’re utterly humiliated. Your mind is still processing the fact that you just kissed Minho – not Jisung – let alone that everyone’s laughing like it’s just some practical, harmless joke. 

You feel your stomach drop, a sinking feeling that claws at you, the knot in your throat growing tighter with every passing second. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the blur of tears in your eyes, but the embarrassment, the shock, the disbelief, all collide together, clouding your vision and reasoning. 

It was all a joke at your expense. The entire thing, from the kiss to the moment when he high-fived his friends, was nothing more than a laugh for them. To you, it was your chance to finally make Jisung understand what he means to you. 

But to them, it was just some game. 

And now all you feel is exposed, stupid, and utterly deflated.

“....color?” Jisung’s voice drags you out of your spiraling thoughts. 

“Huh?” 

“So? Do you see any color?” 

You open your mouth but can’t find the words. You’re speechless, the entire night having caught you so off guard. You shake your head. 

In fact, the world is even colder and blander than it's ever been. 

Jisung, still clueless to your emotional whirlwind, looks over at Minho, a playful smirk still lingering on his lips. “Minho, do you see anything?”

Minho meets your eyes, and for just a moment, you see a flicker of discomfort. But it’s gone as quickly as it appears. His face sets back into his usual cocky demeanor, and he gives a nonchalant shrug. 

“Come on, man,” Jisung presses. “Do you see color or not?”

This time, Minho’s gaze softens just a little. He notices the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes, the hurt that’s building up inside, the pain that everyone else is too drunk to notice. 

You don't hide any of it. You want him to notice. You want him to feel like shit for what he's done. 

“No,” he says, his voice quieter this time, the playful edge gone. “Why would I?” 

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, finally bringing you to the point of falling tears. 

You can’t stay in the room any longer. 

Without waiting, you turn and flee. Your legs move on their own, carrying you away from the clueless laughter, from any eyes that still linger on you – including Minho’s. You don't stop until you're outside, the cool air hitting your face like a splash of cold water. 

You don’t care that they didn’t follow you. You don’t care that the night is still young and there's still an hour left of Ava’s date before you can pick her up. All you care about is getting the hell away from Lee Minho. 

:: 

This break was supposed to be a time to unwind. A few days to finally finish that book you’ve been meaning to get into, to lounge around in your pajamas all day, to catch up on a show you’ve missed, or to try a new recipe or restaurant. You had plans. No stress, no chaos, just a chance to breathe.

But instead, you’ve spent the entire time on the verge of tears. The sting of that night keeps replaying in your mind, like a bad movie you can’t escape. No matter how many times you’ve tried to distract yourself, to shake it off, to tell yourself it was just a prank, the hurt still lingers. 

Every time you close your eyes, the image of Minho’s smug smile, Jisung’s drunk excitement, and your own humiliation floods back, like an endless loop. You’ve cried so much your abs ache from the tension, your eyes are constantly puffy, and your lashes are perpetually wet from the tears that won’t stop falling.

You’re not okay, as much as you wish you could be. You can’t shake the feeling of being played with and worse – none of your so-called friends seemed to care. It’s like everyone was in on the joke except for you.

Wait a second…did…did Jisung invite you to the party just to play a prank? You're not stupid, Minho definitely kicked him under the table to get him to invite you. Were they both in on it? It certainly seemed that way when you came out of the bedroom, and Jisung was smiling like a drunk idiot. 

Oh god…they both played you. They set you up. Which means…Minho probably told Jisung about your crush on him too. That's why he was laughing. Fuck. 

There’s a soft knock at the door, so gentle you almost don’t hear it. For a moment, you just stare at the wall, wishing you could be invisible. 

“___?” your sister's voice barely above a whisper travels through the wall. 

The door creaks open, and your little sister walks in, a small bowl of fruit in her hands. She’s stepping very delicately, like you might shatter if she approaches too fast. 

“You should probably eat something,” she says, her voice kind with an edge of concern. “You haven’t really eaten all day.”

“I’m not hungry.”

She places the bowl down on the nightstand, then climbs into bed next to you, her presence warm and comforting. She doesn’t ask any more questions about why you’re still in bed. Ava’s not the type to push when she knows you need space, but you can feel her worry weighing heavily on her.

After a moment of silence, she speaks again. “Are you sure you want to go to work tomorrow?” she asks quietly, her fingers tapping lightly on the blanket between you two. “Why don’t you just take one more day off?”

You sigh deeply, rubbing your eyes in frustration. “I can’t afford that. We have to pay rent, remember?” 

The weight of your responsibilities feels even heavier now, especially with the thought of facing work tomorrow. You’re not sure you even have the energy to do it, but the bills won’t stop coming just because you’re exhausted.

Ava doesn’t say anything at first. Then she pulls something from her pocket and unfolds it in front of you. 

She hands you a check, a hundred dollars or so. Nothing crazy, but it's clearly earned. You look at her, eyebrows furrowed, a confused frown tugging at your lips.

“What is this?” 

“I’ve been working at the pizza parlor for the past month,” Ava says, her voice hesitant but full of pride. “Part-time. I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t want you to feel so burdened to overwork yourself all the time, so…” she trails off, but the meaning is clear.

You stare at the check, stunned. “Ava…” 

“I know you’re doing your best, so I should be too. We’re in this together.” She pauses, looking at you with eyes full of sincerity. “You don’t have to do it all alone.”

The weight of it all suddenly hits you. The kindness in her gesture, the fact that she’s thinking about you like this, offering to carry some of the burden. You feel the lump in your throat again, but this time, it’s not from sadness or embarrassment. It’s from an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude for your sister. 

You blink a few times, and your voice catches in your throat as you look at her. “You don't have to.” 

“I know. But I want to. You’ve been carrying so much for so long, and I escaped mom’s house because of you. It’s time I helped, even if it’s just a little.”

You close your eyes for a moment, the tears you’ve been fighting fall again. But this time, they’re different. They’re not just from the pain or frustration. They’re from the relief of knowing that you’re not alone. That you have someone who sees you, who understands, and who wants to ease your load. 

It's not a soulmate like you expected. But it is someone who loves you unconditionally. And it's exactly what you needed in this moment to feel like you can get up after being so harshly put down. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

Ava smiles softly and squeezes your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. We’ve got this. Together.” 

Ava really is one of a kind. This won't be the last time you're reminded of just how incredible she is. And how immediately you would kill for her. 

With Ava’s help, you eat the entire bowl of fruit, make it into a shower, and finally sleep through the night. 

Sometimes all you need is your sister. 

:: 

Some might find it strange to know your second job is at a greenhouse, because what's the point? You can't appreciate the colorful flowers (at least, people tell you they're very colorful). But the warm scent of soil and citrus fills the greenhouse air, and you appreciate being able to take care of something living and fragile, like watering the leaves of a fiddle-leaf fig. 

Midday sunlight filters through the glass ceiling, casting soft shadows across the aisles of newly potted plants, and for the first time in days, you feel…calm. Not good, but you don't actively feel the need to cry. Progress. 

The bell above the entrance chimes. 

You glance up, half expecting a regular customer, but your heart drops the second you see him. 

Minho.

He’s standing near the entrance, aimless and awkward. He looks completely out of place among the hanging ivies and blooming succulents, his hands shoved into the pockets of his oversized hoodie, eyes darting around like a kid caught stealing.

You pretend you don’t see him, busying yourself with watering the rest of the plants on your aisle. He'll soon leave on his own. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, he just…lingers.

Soon enough, one of your coworkers walks over and asks if he needs help with anything. 

“I'm looking for ___. Is she here?” 

Despite your attempt to telepathically communicate with your coworker, they point Minho in your direction, and he makes his way over to you. As he gets closer, his steps become a bit more hesitant, approaching you without wanting to invade your space or surprise you. 

“Hey.” 

You don't reply. What could you possibly have to say to him? 

“Can we talk?” 

Without looking, you spray his shoes with the hose for a few seconds, soaking his feet and the bottom of his jeans. 

He looks down and nods. “Yep. Okay. Hear you loud and clear.” 

“Really? Cuz if you did, you would have left by now,” you chide, still refusing to look at him directly. 

“You're right, but,” he hesitates, chewing on his lower lip. “I need to talk to you.”

“Well, I’m not interested in talking to you. Ever again, actually.”

“Come on, you have to hear me out–” 

“I don’t have to do shit,” you scoff, finally turning to face him dead on. “Especially not for you.”

He stutters at your eye contact, but he doesn’t back down. “O-Okay. Fine. But can I at least apologize? You don’t have to forgive me. Just let me say it.”

“And why should I give you the satisfaction of apologizing just to appease the minor tinge of guilt I'm assuming you’re trying to get rid of?” 

The words leave your mouth sharper than you intended, but you don’t regret them. Not when your chest still aches every time you replay that night in your head. Not when just looking at him makes the sting of humiliation burn all over again. 

Minho flinches slightly, the way someone does when they know they deserve to get hit but are still hoping for a little bit of mercy. 

“I’m not trying to get rid of anything,” he says, voice quieter. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I do care. You deserve way more than an apology, but it's the least I can offer. If you’ll let me.” 

He just looks at you – really looks at you – trying to figure out if there's still a version of you that might listen. 

You exhale through your nose before you turn off the water and drop the hose. “Make it quick.”

Minho steps closer, not too close, but just enough that you can see the regret lining his features, real regret, not whatever cocky smirk he wore at the party.

“I’m sorry for the prank,” he starts. “I know you like Jisung. And when both of your names were pulled, I thought it’d be funny if I switched with him. I figured you’d know it wasn’t him right away, and it’d be this stupid joke that we’d all laugh about later.”

You say nothing, just stare. Just let him sit in it.

He swallows hard. “But when you kissed me, you didn’t stop. You didn’t pull away. I thought – hell, I thought you felt a spark when we touched, like I did. I mean, there's always been this, like, tension between us, you know? I'm not crazy. You've felt it too, right?” 

Your silence that follows his question is deafening. 

Minho clears his throat and finishes, “But then you said his name, and I realized…you had no idea.” He rubs the back of his neck shamefully. “It was supposed to be a harmless joke. I didn’t expect us to get that…into it. Things just got a little out of control–” 

“A little?” 

“...a lot. I never should have done that to you. I'm really sorry.” 

His apology doesn't do much to make you feel better. Perhaps, there is a small part of you that believes he didn't mean for the kiss to get so intense. But he still intended to embarrass you by switching places with Jisung. He still technically hurt you on purpose. 

“Apology not accepted.” 

Minho nods, accepting your short words with dignity. “That’s fair. I deserve that.” His voice softens. “But I also need you to know that it wasn’t Jisung’s idea. He was too drunk to even know what was going on. If you’re going to be mad, be mad at me. If you're gonna cut someone out of your life…it should be me. Don’t take it out on Jisung.” 

You look away, your throat tightening. “Well, thank you for telling me that. I won't be upset at Jisung.” 

And you mean it. Even though his careless question and hurtful humor at the end didn't help, you can accept that he was simply following the crowd and drunkenly playing along. If Jisung had been sober, there's no way he would have let something like that happen. 

But Minho was sober. Completely sober. 

Another pause. Minho rubs his hands down the side of his jeans nervously. His shoes make a squishy sound when he shifts his weight. 

“So…” he says slowly, “can we address the elephant in the room now?”

You glance back at him, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

He looks at you, confused. Then his expression changes into something gentler, quieter. “The color?”

“What color?”

“You don’t…see it?”

“See what?” Your voice drops. “Wait. Do you see color?” 

He hesitates. Then nods.

There’s no cocky smile this time, no teasing, no laugh. Just Minho standing in the middle of a jungle of potted plants, looking at you like he’s seeing the sun for the first time. His eyes scan the expanse of your body and the scene around him, blinking softly as if he sees something you don't. 

You stare at him, unable to believe what you’re hearing. 

Then suddenly, you scoff, sharp and bitter, “Oh my god. Are you serious, right now?”

“What?”

“Really? You’re going to come to my job, give me some fake-ass apology, and then rub it in my face that I can’t see color by pretending you can? Fuck you, man.” 

His face falls, the nervousness draining from his expression as it's replaced with panic. “No no no, that's not—” 

You grab the hose and turn on your heel to leave. “That’s fucking low, Minho. Even for you.” 

He's immediately after you, running past you just to get in front of you and cut you off, forcing you to pause. 

“Wait! Wait!” He grabs a flower off the nearby shelf, a daisy. “What color is this?”

You look at it, stunned. “You know what, Minho? I always kind of knew you could be pathetic and cruel. But this is pushing it way too far.” 

He blinks, desperation creeping into his voice. “You seriously don’t see it?”

“No! I don't!” you snap, taking heavy steps toward him as he starts to shuffle back. “Because I didn’t kiss my soulmate, remember? That was the whole punchline, right? Let's all laugh at the girl who can't see color! Ha ha ha! Even her younger sister gets a soulmate, but guess what? She doesn't get one because Jisung thinks she's a fucking joke!” 

Minho looks down at the flower in his hand, then slowly back at you. “Jisung isn't your soulmate.” 

“Let me guess, because you are?” 

“Yes.” 

Your heart jumps, and not in a good way. 

“I’m not seeing everything,” he admits quietly, “but I’m seeing spots. Like little flashes of something. It’s not always there. But sometimes…in certain places…” he glances at your lips, “they get brighter when I’m around you.”

You go still, trying to read his expression for any sign of a joke, a twitch of amusement, a hint of a lie. 

But he’s dead serious. 

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “No, you’re wrong. You’re just seeing things.”

“I’m not,” Minho says, his voice steady, but there's something wounded beneath it. “It’s you. ___, you're my soulmate.”

You step back, refusing to admit he just made your heart skip a beat. “It’s probably just a glitch. The kiss was…a lot. It was intense, I admit. But it didn't mean anything.”

“It meant something to me.” 

He steps forward, and the only thing between you being the single daisy he still holds. You look down at it, taking in the blandness of its petals and leaves, then back up at him. And you see it. That glint in his eyes. That almost imperceptible shimmer of hope that you see more than you do. 

Something stirs in you too, just beneath your ribs, pulling you toward him. Something undeniable. But you shove it down, hard.

“It’ll go away,” you finally say. “Whatever you’re seeing, it’ll fade. Just give it time.”

Minho doesn’t move. He just watches you, lips parted like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. He lets the silence stretch instead, heavy and thick. 

“You really think it’ll just go away?”

You avoid his eyes, crossing your arms instead. “Yeah. Probably. It’s not real. It can’t be. You’re not mine…” you shake your head, “I mean, you’re not my soulmate.” 

He looks at you like he wants to argue, but he knows the conversation will only go in circles from here. So, instead he just nods slowly, presses his lips into a line, and places the flower back down on the counter.

“Okay,” he says softly, a step back, and then another. “Sorry for interrupting your work.” 

With hands once again deep in his pockets, he heads out the door. If he looks back, you don't see it. You're already speed walking into the back of the greenhouse, hand on your chest as you attempt to withhold a meltdown. 

He has some nerve. Showing up here like this, with his stupid little apology and his puppy-dog eyes, acting like he’s some gentleman. 

As if his fake remorse is supposed to make everything okay. As if a handful of nice words about being soulmates can erase what he did. And now he’s doubling down on this color nonsense?

Please. 

There’s no way he’s seeing color. That’s not how this works. You don’t trick someone, kiss them under false pretenses, humiliate them in front of everyone, and then suddenly get rewarded with color. That’s not just unfair, that’s delusional. Insanity. 

And yet…the way he looked at you, the way his voice cracked when he said he wanted to make it right…it hurt a little bit. Maybe because some part of you wanted to believe he was genuine, but still. It felt like ripping open a wound you hadn’t even let close completely. 

Just seeing him again brought it all back: the kiss, the heat, the betrayal, the confusion, the embarrassment. 

You don't forgive him. Not yet anyway. It's all still too fresh. But you can't deny that you wish he wasn’t lying. You wish it had meant something. Because that would mean all this shit was for something, that you were in pain for an effort. An effort that would eventually reveal color like you've always wanted. 

But that’s a dangerous thought to have, especially about someone as inconsiderate and selfish as Minho. 

Let him apologize a hundred times. It doesn't change the fact that he took away your chance at a whole new world. 

:: 

Minho slumps onto the couch, tossing his keys onto the coffee table like they burned his hand. His hair is damp from the greenhouse humidity, and he's been thinking way too hard for way too long. He’s surprised smoke hasn't come out of his ears by now. 

Jisung peeks up from where he's lying upside down on the other side of the couch, head hanging off the cushion and hair brushing the ground. 

“So?” he asks, voice muffled by a lollipop stuck in his cheek. “How’d it go?”

Minho doesn’t answer right away. He sinks lower into the cushions, arms crossed over his chest like armor in front of his heart. 

“It was fine.”

“Fine?” Jisung echoes, sitting up on his knees to face his friend. “Like, normal fine? Or, like, ‘I’m actually having an existential crisis’ fine?”

Minho throws him a sideways glare. “She’s still mad at me.”

“Well, yeah,” Jisung says, not unkindly but rather blatantly. “You did trick her into making out with you in front of a whole party. While she was blindfolded. In a soulmate game.”

Minho groans and drags a hand down his face. “Thanks for the recap, bro.” 

“I’m just saying, you messed with something really personal, man. Soulmates? That’s not light territory.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You know, because of how her parents weren't soulmates, but they married anyway, and it totally screwed up her childhood,” he says casually, like this is something everyone knows. “That's why she's always talking about seeing color and finding her soulmate. She's secretly scared of never finding them and repeating her parents’ mistakes. I thought you knew that.” 

Minho stiffens. His fingers curl slightly against his thighs as he straightens in his seat. “No,” he says slowly, his voice quieter now. “She said something about her little sister having a soulmate, but I didn’t realize—” he cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair. “Damn.”

Jisung winces. “Oh. That’s gotta sting.”

Minho swallows hard. His thoughts spin with fragments of your voice, your anger, the way your eyes burned when you told him he’s not your soulmate. And he’s not. Not yet, really. Not in the ways that matter.

He knew the prank hurt you, but he thought it was just because it embarrassed you, maybe ruined your crush on Jisung. He didn’t understand that it cut deeper than that. That it reopened an old wound he hadn’t even known existed.

Now, the pieces click into place. Why you were so shaken, why you looked at him like he shattered something irreplaceable. It wasn’t just a prank. It was a betrayal of something you believed in. Something you needed to believe in.

And he was the idiot who turned it into a joke.

Minho leans forward, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. “I’m such an asshole,” he mutters into his palms.

Jisung pulls his lollipop from his pursed lips and doesn’t argue. He eyes Minho curiously, sensing something heavier under the surface. 

“So, you really think she’s yours?”

“I don’t think so,” Minho says defiantly. “I know so.” 

“Oh. Shit.” 

There’s a beat of silence between them as his words settle. Minho doesn't take his eyes off the wall, determination and conviction evident in every blink. 

Jisung sighs and leans back, thudding his head against the back of the couch. “It's just my luck that I don't remember the night my two best friends found out they're soulmates.” 

Minho looks at him. “You really don’t remember anything, huh?” 

“Nope. Last thing I remember is handing someone a cup and then waking up with a pack of Twizzlers stuck to my face.” Jisung grins faintly. “I really was blackout drunk. The pictures on my phone from that night are chaotic. Feels like I missed out,” he adds with a light chuckle. 

Minho’s gaze drops to his lap. “Don't feel too left out. ___ doesn't think I'm her soulmate because she doesn't see color.” 

“But you do.” Jisung says with a wave of his sucker through the air. “How does that make sense?” 

Minho shrugs. 

“Maybe you didn't kiss her hard enough?” 

“Trust me, I kissed her hard enough.” 

“Maybe the kiss just wasn't right.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, she thought you were me, right? Maybe the kiss didn't work because she didn't realize she was kissing you.” 

That thought hadn't crossed his mind yet, but when Jisung says it, it kind of makes sense. Minho sits up a bit, his mind suddenly ready to start thinking of ways to get closer to you again. 

“You really think that could be the problem?” 

“Possibly.” Jisung shrugs. “Maybe if you kiss her again, and this time she knows it's you, then she'll see color.” 

Minho pauses, the air caught somewhere between his lungs and throat. Jisung’s words echo in his head, absurd but not entirely unthinkable. 

The memory of the kiss rushes back. Your waist, your breath, your hands, the way your body melted into his like it was instinct. Like it was meant to. Like you were actually going to be his. He can't help but wonder what might have happened if you hadn't said the wrong name, if you knew it was him and still wanted him that badly. 

He wants you to want him like that again. He wants you to climb his body with urgency and desperation, and run your fingers through his hair while he kisses down your neck. 

“I don’t know,” Minho mutters, gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t think she wants to kiss me ever again, let alone on purpose.” 

Jisung snorts. “Yeah, you definitely have your work cut out for that one.” 

Minho throws him a flat look. “Thanks, bro. Your support means so much to me.” 

“Hey, I’m just saying.” Jisung lifts his hands in mock defense, but his expression softens. “If it really is her and you guys are really soulmates, you owe it to both of you to try again. But, like, not through a prank this time.”

Minho sinks back into the couch, a chuckle deep in his chest. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Jisung says, biting his lollipop and proceeding to chew obnoxiously loudly. “But it might be worth it.”

Minho’s shoulders sag a little. The whole thing is draining him when he thought color was supposed to make his life better. He can't even fully enjoy all the wonderful new things he can see, because you can't see them with him. And that sucks the joy out of it all. 

He needs to kiss you again. This time truthfully. 

::

You slide your apron over your head and clock in, trying to ignore the lingering ache behind your eyes from another night of restless sleep. The familiar scent of garlic oil, soy broth, and fresh green onions swirls around you like a comfort blanket – but unfortunately, it’s not enough to keep your stomach from tightening every time you serve spicy vegan ramen. With an egg. 

Any energy or effort you had planned to put into your shift today is long gone. You're so tired. All you have left is a fake smile, montoned scripted service, and aching feet. The emotional drainage that you've experienced over the last week has only proved to drain you physically and mentally as well. Every step is heavy, and every minute feels like a year off your life. 

You glance toward the entrance when the chimes indicate a new customer is here. And suddenly, your stomach is churning for a different reason. 

He strolls in like he owns the place, wearing that same ripped t-shirt and smug expression you remember from the worst night of your life. Immediately, his eyes land on you, because where else would they go? 

Someone remind you how this guy suddenly magically knows your work schedule? 

You walk to the hostess stand, pop your hip, and narrow your eyes at him. “What are you doing here, Minho?” 

“Just came for some ramen,” he replies casually. 

“Well, there’s another ramen bar down the street. Go to that one.”

Before he can respond, Jaq pokes his head out from the kitchen and hisses your name. He gives you a threatening snare and waves for you to hurry up and seat the new customer. The one time this douchebag decides to actually do his job as manager. Inconvenient and unbelievable. 

You force your lips into a thin, tight smile and grab a menu. “Right this way.” 

He follows you to a corner booth, sliding into the seat like this was his plan all along. You plop the menu down in front of him, a little harder than necessary. 

“Sprite?” 

“You got Sierra Mist?” he asks in a humorous tone. 

But then he notices something. 

The heavy sag of your shoulders, the tightness in your eyes, the way you rub the back of your neck like it's carrying the weight of too many things no one else can see. There's a weariness in your expression that wasn’t there before. Like you’ve been running on empty for a while, but still keep moving because no one’s gonna offer to pick things up if you drop them.

His playful smile falters. He was prepared for a witty comeback, a sarcastic jab, maybe even an argument—but not this. Not the quiet exhaustion in your face. It hits him in a place he can’t quite name.

“No, we have Coke products.” 

He doesn’t reply right away. Just watches you for a moment too long. 

And then, something shifts in him.

A quiet sense of responsibility settles over his chest. Not heavy like guilt, but something persistent, like gravity. He doesn’t know what to say or do, not really. He’s not good with comfort. Not the soft kind. Not the real kind. But he knows that he wants to help. That maybe, somehow, it’s his job to make you feel a little less heavy. Even if just for a moment.

He straightens in his seat, abandoning whatever dumb remark he had ready.

“You look tired,” he says softly, not as an observation, but as a quiet acknowledgement.

“Long day.” Your reply is short, uninterested and unentertained. “So, Sprite?” 

“Yeah, thank you,” he smiles kindly. 

His politeness is infuriating. Hot flames of fury ignite in your chest, burning upward into your throat and head, behind your eyes, morphing into an immediate headache. It appears he's trying to make up for the last time he was here and treated you like shit. Perhaps another attempt at an apology, but you're anything but impressed. 

You walk away without a word, collect his Sprite from the soda fountain, and return with your notepad to take his order. 

“What can I get you?” 

He leans back, resting one arm on the booth. “What about today made it long?” 

“I’m working a double today,” you answer flatly. “What can I get you?” 

“Oh man, that's gotta be a hard day for sure. Did someone call out so you're covering?” 

“No.” You arch an eyebrow. “I'm working a double to help make up for the time off I took last weekend. Now, what can I get you?” 

“Did you not have any paid time off you could have used? Do you have to work a double tomorrow too?” 

You close your notepad with a snap, place both hands firmly on the table, and lean in close. Your eyes narrow, scanning his face with the precision of someone trying to spot a lie before it's spoken. “Alright. What’s your angle, Minho?” 

He blinks up at you, all innocence. “My angle?”

“Don’t play dumb. What are you really doing here?”

“Eating ramen…” he says slowly, as if the words taste foreign on his tongue, eyes wide and doe-like. 

You scoff. “Don’t insult me. I may be hurt, but I’m not stupid.” 

His expression softens just enough for sincerity to show through. “I wanna talk to you,” he admits, voice low. “About the kiss.” 

Your breath catches in your chest. Without a word, you turn on your heel, ready to disappear into the kitchen and pretend he never showed up, but his hand catches yours. A grip that's not rough, but there’s a firmness in his fingers. A quiet insistence. 

“I was thinking about it and—”

You cut him off with a pointed look. “Do you need me to spell it out with ramen noodles? I don’t want to talk about it. Now, let me go.”

He loosens his grip slowly, until you can snatch your hand away, quickly speaking up before you try to walk away again. “We have to talk about it eventually, don't you think?” 

“Why?”

“Because we’re soulmates.”

After you mentally shove away whatever heart fluttering feelings that little declaration evoked from within your chest, you roll your eyes. “You can’t possibly know that—”

“You have light hair.”

“…What?”

“And dark eyes. And I think your favorite color would be blue.”

“Why blue?” you ask, despite yourself.

A small smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. “Because I look good in blue.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, a disbelieving laugh punching out of you. “You cheeky little—”

“Five minutes.” His voice is calm, but it cuts through the noise of the restaurant. “Please. I know I'm asking for way more than I deserve. But just give me five minutes.” 

“I don’t get off for another four hours.”

Minho leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest with all the determination of someone who just settled in for the long haul.

You squint at him. “You’re seriously going to wait four hours for five minutes of my time?”

He lifts a shoulder in a shrug, lips turning down as if four hours is nothing in the grand scheme of talking to you. “If that’s what it takes.”

“If you’re not eating, you have to leave so I can use the table for someone else.”

Minho obediently picks up the laminated menu from the tabletop and flips to the page with house favorite ramen, picking out a choice within a few seconds. You roll your eyes and walk away, heading back toward the kitchen to put in his first order – classic chicken ramen. 

There’s no way he’s actually staying. Four hours? No one has that kind of endurance. Or appetite.

But as your shift ticks on, hour by hour, your disbelief begins to waver.

You steal a glance toward the back corner of the dining room where Minho is camped out. He’s hunched over his fourth bowl, wiping his mouth with a napkin and reaching for his water with a look of grim determination. You check the time. Two hours left. Four bowls down. 

You retreat to the kitchen counter, where Felix is leaning against the sink, idly polishing a glass. 

“I can’t believe he’s actually still here,” you mutter, crossing your arms as you watch Minho sit up straighter and stretch his shoulders out like a man training for a marathon. 

Felix follows your gaze and hums thoughtfully. “Can’t say he’s not determined.”

“He’s ridiculous.” 

Right on cue, Minho looks up and catches you staring. His face brightens instantly like a kid caught doing something he’s proud of. He perks up, sits up straighter, and gestures to his bowl like he’s won a prize. Then, as if to further prove a point, he drags his spoon along the inside rim to scrape out the very last drop of broth. Then he puts his fist to his mouth and burps so loud you hear it across the room. 

You squint, equal parts impressed and concerned. How is he not totally sick by now? 

“He can’t last much longer,” you mumble to yourself.

Felix glances at you, brow raised. “I know that face. What are you thinking?”

“Felix, make me a bowl of spicy vegan ramen. Extra spicy.”

He pauses, cautious. “Uh…how spicy?”

“Extra extra spicy. Chili oil. Jalapeños. Ghost pepper paste if we’ve got it.”

Felix winces. “You’re evil. I like it.” 

Ten minutes later, the kitchen window buzzes, and Felix slides out a bowl so intense it practically radiates heat. The broth gleams with a slick shine, puddles of oil shimmering on the surface. Stray chili flakes drift like warning signs, and a mountain of jalapeños piled on top releases a sharp, tangy sting into the air. Just standing near it makes your throat itch and your eyes water. It doesn’t just look spicy, it looks dangerous..

You grab the bowl with a sweet smile and walk it over to Minho’s table.

He blinks up at you in surprise. “I didn’t order this one.”

“It’s on the house,” you say, setting it in front of him with a grin that doesn’t reach your eyes. “A thank you for your loyalty… and your love for our ramen.”

He hesitates, a little thrown. “Oh, um… thank you. But I was gonna go light next. Maybe just some rice balls or—”

“I put an egg in it,” you interrupt, folding your arms in pre-celebrated victory. “Just for you.”

He leans forward, inhales—and jerks back immediately, coughing into his elbow as the spice hits his nose like a punch.

You stand your ground. You’re not leaving. Not until he takes a bite and runs away. 

Minho looks at you. Then at the bowl. Then back at you. With a quiet sigh, he picks up his chopsticks and swirls a first bite around the ends before bringing it to his lips with a loud slurp. 

The reaction is immediate. His eyes water, his lips parting to pant as he chews. His nose begins to run. Sweat dots his forehead. You watch him grimace, but he doesn’t stop. Not even when he needs a napkin. Not even when he’s clearly dying.

“Good?” you ask with a thumbs up. 

Minho manages to match your gesture before he's clawing at his water glass and tossing it back like there's no tomorrow. 

Although you would love to stick around and watch the moment when he ultimately quits, you get pulled away when the front door opens, a new wave of customers arriving. 

Throughout the next half hour, you keep glancing at Minho between tables, expecting to see him slumped over or crawling to the door or just already gone. 

Instead, you return just in time to see him wipe his mouth, push the empty bowl away, and lean back with the tired posture of a man who’s been through war.

A few minutes later, he quietly disappears into the bathroom.

One of your coworkers approaches his table with a tray, ready to clear it. “Is this guy finally done? He’s been here forever.”

Before you can think twice, your hand slams onto the table, loud, sudden, and startling enough to make both of you jump. You plant your arm across the tray’s path, blocking her from touching a single dish.

“He’s not done,” you say, breath catching like even you’re surprised by how fast you moved. “He’s just in the bathroom.”

She blinks. “Still? How much more can he possibly eat?”

“I don’t know. Just leave it.” You pull your arm back slowly, trying to act like it was no big deal. But it is. “I'll clear it when he's done.” 

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes and walks away.

You’re not ready for him to leave. Not yet. Some stupid part of you wants to see if he’ll make it to the end of your shift. If he really meant it when he said he would wait for you. 

Minho reemerges a while later, moving slower than usual. His face is pale, his steps tentative, but when he sees you, he tries to straighten up and look presentable. Like he’s not completely wrecked from the past four hours of food torture.

You meet him at his table.

“The shop’s closing soon,” you say quietly. “There’s a bench outside to the right. Wait there for me?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. Of course!” 

You watch him through the window as he exits, finds the bench, and sits down. It almost seems as though he might fall asleep. But still, he waits. 

When your shift ends, you lock the door behind you and step outside into the night air. Minho sits up the second he sees you, brushing invisible lint from his pants like he’s trying to clean up for you.

You stop in front of him and cross your arms, both annoyed and begrudgingly impressed.

“Five minutes?” he asks, hopeful and breathless.

“You earned them.”

You sit down beside him on the bench, the night air cool against your skin, the streetlamp overhead humming quietly as it spills light around you both. There's a stretch of silence, just long enough to make your heart race a little before he finally speaks. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, eyes fixed on the sidewalk ahead. “And maybe the reason you can’t see color is because you thought you were kissing someone else.” 

You don’t flinch at the accusation. Actually, the more you think about it the more it makes sense. Yeah, you can see how somebody who found themselves stuck in their own head could come to that kind of conclusion. Perhaps Minho has been giving this a bit more thought than you anticipated. 

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it too,” you reply, not unaware of the way he eagerly shifts to be just an inch closer. “And maybe the reason I can’t see color…is because I don’t have a soulmate.”

That hits something deeper than he was expected. He turns his head just slightly, but you still catch it. The way his expression flickers, like your words hurt to hear. But even so, he doesn’t back down.

“That’s not true,” he says quietly. “I’m your soulmate.” 

“Minho,” you murmur, turning to face him fully now. “Look at me. I’m honored that you ate five massive bowls of ramen and waited four hours just to have a five minute conversation with me. I’ll admit, that was…pretty romantic. Gross, but romantic.”

His mouth twitches, eye brows bouncing almost humorously. 

“But we’re not soulmates,” you continue. “We don’t even like each other.” 

“I do like you,” he corrects, a bit too eager to be lying. “I've liked you for a long time actually.” 

You shake your head. “No, you don’t. You liked kissing me for whatever reason. But you don’t like me. You don’t even know me that well.” 

He opens his mouth like he’s ready to argue, but the words die in his throat. You see it in his eyes, that flicker of realization. He didn’t know about your parents. He never asked. Never even tried. 

A breath passes between you.

“Then let me get to know you,” he says finally, voice low and careful. 

“Minho…” 

“I’m serious,” he presses, leaning forward to earn your eye contact back. His voice dips into something softer, more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard from him. “Let me take you out. Learn about you. Talk to you. Listen to you. I want to.” 

But the hurt from before still lingers in your chest. It keeps you from falling too far into his eyes, from giving into that hopeless romantic part of you that wants to be swept off her feet. 

You should say no. It’d be smarter, safer. But for some reason, here under the quietness of night, in the dim light of a street lamp, with Minho absolutely lost in your eyes as if hypnotized, you remember how it felt to be kissed like you mattered. What it felt like to be held by his hands, to be under him. 

Your defenses waiver. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say, but even to your own ears, it lacks conviction.

“Why not?” he asks gently. “Are you scared to let someone get to know you?”

Your lips part, then close again. And finally, you nod once. “Yeah. I am.” 

“Three dates,” he suggests, holding up three fingers. “That’s all I’m asking. Just three. And if by the end, you’re still not convinced we’re soulmates, I’ll drop it. I won’t bug you anymore. I swear.”

You study him carefully. The boy who once tormented you for fun now looks at you like you’re the only thing in focus. Like you're the only thing in the world that could possibly matter. And suddenly, you realize…

You don't recognize him. At least, you don't recognize this Minho. There's something different, something has changed about him. His eyes aren't the same, his body language doesn't say the same things, even the timbre of his voice sounds so much softer and deeper. It reaches farther inside your chest than you were ready for. 

“Fine,” you say at last, crossing your arms. “If it’ll shut you up. Three dates.”

His grin is immediate, like you just handed him the universe.

“And one more kiss,” he adds.

“Excuse me?”

“To be sure,” he says with exaggerated innocence, eyes twinkling as they flicker to your lips. “For science.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes to mask any shyness you feel. “Alright. Three dates and one kiss. And then you leave me alone.” 

He extends his hand to seal the deal. 

You shake it, fully convinced you’ll be unaffected by the end of it. That this is just an experiment. A distraction. Something to get him off your case. 

But as soon as your hand leaves his, and your fingers drift back to your side, your stomach flips – traitorous and fluttery – and you’re not totally sure you're gonna be okay by the end of this. 

::

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[straykeedz-recs]

paid in & paid off

Jay made the mistake of paying his best friend to date you, it was a big mistake. He only did it to get you away from a different man who wasn’t treating you right, and because he couldn’t do it himself. The fact that his best friend breaks the rules and decides to catch feelings drives him up a fucking wall. Why? Because Jake should know better than to go as far as sleeping with his girl, or rather...erm, his step-sister.

 ៸៸៸ sim jake x afab reader | park jongseong x afab reader 

 ៸៸៸ minors dni

 ៸៸៸ wordcount: 30k

 ៸៸៸ genre: college break au, summer setting , smut, stepcest 

 ៸៸៸ content tags: angst, smut, fluff, more dominant jay, inexperienced jake, infidelity(?), jealous and possessive behavior, risky sex, jay is mean, jake is a total loser posing as a dude who knows how to pick up girls. reader has hair that can be grabbed and pulled during smut scenes.

 ៸៸៸ !WARNINGS!: dub-con, step-cest, jay is a narcissist, manipulation, possessive behavior, use of degrading names such as: dumb, stupid, whore, and slut. i am not responsible for your inability to consume the right content for you. 

 ៸៸៸ side characters: sunghoon as your ex boyfriend, heeseung as your ex boyfriend’s best friend 

 ៸៸៸ a/n: thank u for 1k followers <3 lets just call this one a late new years gift and a thank u for indulging me! btw, this isn’t edited!

៸៸៸ nsfw tags under cut

៸៸៸ nsfw tags: jake is a boob guy, big dick jake, thick dick jay, degradation, finger fucking, doggy style, mating press, unprotected sex, hair pulling, pussy eating, crying, being pinned down, but also!!!, soft and passionate fucking, riding, marking out, blowjob/deepthroating

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jay knew his dad was quick to love, but quick to marry wasn’t really something he was expecting. It took the span of a single semester for him to not only learn that his father had a new girlfriend, but that he was eloping with her, meaning, Jay would be coming home for the summer to an entirely different home life.

He knew nothing of this woman and barely even knew what her name was but it’s not that big of a deal to him, considering he’s out of the house anyway save for holidays and summer breaks. It’s not like he’s going to have to deal with it too often. Afterall, he’s an adult, and so is his father. If anything, the man deserves to feel some love after sending Jay away to one of the best colleges around. Why does it matter that the marriage happened so quickly? 

It doesn’t. 

It’s much the same for you, if not the exact same thought process on the way your mother calls you and dotes on her new husband as if she’s one of your best friends calling you after a hook-up. You’re even a bit excited to head home once finals are over to see your much-missed mother and her new husband. 

Your mother is more detailed in her descriptions of the new life though. Her husband is tall, he’s handsome, he has money, he has a son with the highest GPA on his campus. You weren’t too inclined to process the information at the time though, considering she had called you dead in the middle of crunch time for finals. 

All you know is, your mother is happy and you’re happy for her. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Why the fuck are you here?” Jay asks upon returning home and walking through the front door.

The first thing he noted was that there is a girl sitting on his father’s couch, and she’s far too young to be his new wife. Upon her turning to face him, presumably to see who is walking into the house, he notes that it’s you. 

“No fucking way.” You start, standing up and brushing off your legs of imaginary dust. “You’re the son my mom mentioned?”

Jay looks at you with a bit of shock unable to be hidden within his expression.

“I have a fucking sister? And it’s you, of all people?” Jay huffs in an annoyed way, ultimately because, what kind of shitty luck in life is he set up for? 

The only reason this is his reaction is because, well, the two of you have history. Kind of. To him, at least, probably not to you. 

He remembers the first time he ever saw you, bright eyed and bushy tailed during his freshman year on campus. He thought you were pretty, but it’s not like that thought would go anywhere further. It’s the fact that he found everyone beautiful on campus, solely because he knew he must have been surrounded by people as smart as he is, or perhaps as well off financially as his father is. 

The day he decided that you’re really pretty was during a gen ed class that year. A class that he really could have done with his eyes closed if he’s being honest, but still, his eyes stayed open due to being paired with you for a simple single-class project. Where the two of you were to separate from the other pairs and come up with some sort of argument on a whim regarding a given topic. 

You were great at arguing, even better than him perhaps. 

And from that moment forward, he noticed you more and more through the semesters as you grew as students, despite only having one other class together during that time. 

He noted during that single other class period he shared with you some year and a half into his educational journey that you were one of the only students who didn’t boast about their GPA, which led him to believe you’re probably a little bit dumber than the other students. 

He also noted that you’d hang around the hockey team a lot as time went on, specifically Sunghoon and his friend Heeseung. Those two were rowdy, loud, and always threw the best parties. Or so he’s heard, it’s not like Jay ever showed up to them or anything. His GPA was far too important to not prioritize. 

Eventually, he’d end up noting that you would always be all over Sunghoon. A clear indication that he should keep his eyes to himself, especially with the way Sunghoon would occasionally make eye contact with him after eying his presumed girlfriend for too long. 

Dating Sunghoon though? Yeah, you’re probably a little more than a little bit dumb.

Still, it was just a little college crush that would never turn into anything further. He didn’t need more than the ability to glance at you from time to time and remember how well you argued in that first semester of college. After all, there are tons of other pretty girls on campus too, some that are also probably far more intelligent and not wasting their time on the meat-heads that barely keep their GPA up enough to attend the school. 

That’s why he’s shocked to walk into his father’s house, happy to be home, to find none other than you sitting on that couch. 

And now you’re standing up, facing him, and looking at him for probably the first time in several semesters. He’s actually a little shocked that you remember him at all. 

“Did–” You pause, looking at him confused. “Did your dad not tell you?”

Jay slowly shakes his head, dropping his bag and slipping off his shoes. 

“Probably didn’t think it was too important.” He finally says, shrugging and stretching his arms out above his head after the long drive. 

“It’s pretty important, actually.” You laugh awkwardly, having just gotten to your new home yourself, waiting for your mother to come out of her shower. “This is fucking awkward.”

Jay nods and then walks past you. 

“Hey wait, where are you going?” You ask, confused by the atmosphere in the room. 

“To my room?” He says back in a sarcastic tone, internally conflicted over the fact that his father forced him into crush-hood with someone he is now related to by marriage. 

Still, that’s something he will keep to himself. After all, it was just a small crush that never went away due to not having a reason to stop thinking you’re pretty.

He has a reason now, and he’s still happy to be home despite the awkwardness that’s now living beside him. If anything, he can fill his free time with his old friends rather than becoming friends with you. And he does, entering his room, locking it, and immediately sending a text to his long-time friend that he hasn’t seen since last summer. 

Speaking of said long-time friend. Jake grew up down the street from Jay and as expected, chose to stay home with his family rather than travel for college. He loved them too much to leave them, plus the college here was good. Not as good as the one Jay goes to, but still a great accomplishment nonetheless. 

Jake has a perfect GPA, a perfect family, perfect hair, and a very imperfect way of living up to his own accomplishments. 

For instance, not going with Jay to university despite having a high chance of making it in. He didn’t even try, didn’t even fucking consider it. Jake is the type who is both entirely lost in the world and one hundred percent okay with it. He doesn’t know who he is, who he wants to be, or what to do about it outside of following the general rules of life. 

Be born, learn to talk, learn to walk, go to school, go to college, work, die. 

Still, he is Jay’s best friend, which is why he is the first person he texts upon returning home. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The first dinner with your new family felt strange at best. You have a brother figure now, a father figure, and your mother is smiling for reasons that aren’t you or her new favorite show on tv. It’s both nice and insanely weird to experience sitting at a dinner table with more than just yourself. 

Things were always casual with your mother. Dinner is whenever, eat wherever. But as you look at her, you see her trying to fill a role for the handsome man she’s now married to. You don’t dislike the guy but as her daughter, who she raised almost entirely on her own, you’re cautious about him. 

And looking at Jay? It’s a little bit strange for you. He was so quiet on campus, which is a stark contrast to his loud and vibrant father. The two of them are still alike in some way when it comes to their ice cold stare that can’t be as icy as it appears. 

You remember working with Jay maybe once or twice throughout your semesters, and he was very well spoken. To the point that it almost felt as if you were working directly with a professor rather than a college student. He was clean back then, and somewhat brooding in his own way. It still rings true today if you remind yourself of his attitude upon meeting you in the living room. 

“Jongseong,” His father clears his throat with his son’s name, a smile forming as he places his cutlery to the side. “How did your finals go?”

Jay perks up at the ability to talk about himself and his accomplishments as he looks to your mother. He smiles at her, and you can’t help but think he’s putting on some sort of act. He never smiled too often when you did see him. 

You snort. 

“Jongseong?” You say, laughing at the way his father is so formal. “I thought your name was Jay?” 

Jay was mid-sentence when you so rudely interrupted him and his shiny GPA, as he shot his head to you. 

“Okay,” He says shortly. “What’s your GPA then?”

His father and your mother share a quick glance at each other, seemingly worried that the two of you appear to already be acting like siblings that do not get along. 

“Pfft,” You snort, rolling your eyes. “My GPA is just fine, Jongseong.” 

You’re just kidding around, but you can’t help but press when you note his, almost immediate, annoyance. Which to you is a bit too uptight if you’re being honest.

“So what is it then?” He glares, huffing out through his nose. “Because mine is a weighted 4.7.” 

It’s the fact that you already hate that he’s challenging you. You had no idea that his GPA was so high already, revealing that he must take extra honors classes and advanced courses by this point. Probably making straight A’s in most of them, if not all of them. 

You swallow around your spoon, your cheeky smirk falling almost instantly. 

“Point taken.” You roll your eyes. 

“What is your GPA?” He asks again with a smug smile. 

“I told you, my GPA is fine.” You argue. 

Jay thinks you must have fallen off of your ability to argue, because you’re really not putting up a fight like you did during that first semester. 

“Doesn’t seem fine.” He laughs, grabbing his cup and glaring at you from over it. “Probably just hiding that you’re failing,  just like that boyfriend of yours.”

You pause, actually mad now. 

“Excuse me?” You stare at him, dropping your spoon and clenching your fist. 

“Jongseong!” His father raises his voice at the family mishap, taking your mother’s hand on top of the table. 

Both you and Jay shoot your heads to him.

“That is your sister, don’t be rude.” His father says in a booming voice, reminding Jay that he can’t be petty like this to you. 

Despite wanting to. Mad that he still thinks you’re pretty even with the new discovery, even more mad that he enjoyed pushing your buttons just now. 

What’s worse is the way he glances at you and sees you snicker at his scolding before flinching as if your mother kicked you from under the table. 

He grimaces at the situation, at you, and then smiles at his father. 

“Sorry,” He says, scratching his forehead before grabbing his cup again. “Would have been nice to know I was coming home to a sister though.” 

His dad’s eyes widened before narrowing at his son, annoyed that his own flesh and blood is acting like such a child over this matter. 

“Jongseong–” He warns, and then your mother is speaking up.

“Wait, you didn’t even tell him that I have a daughter?”

The apologetic look that takes over your new step-father’s face is interesting because, honestly, it is a weighted question. You’d like to know why he didn’t tell Jay too, then again, maybe it wasn’t intentional. 

With that, you watch as Jay stands up and leaves the kitchen, leaving his plate there presumably for someone else to clean and can’t help but do the same.

You can see that familiar look of hurt on your mother’s face and feel it best that you sink away into your own room, which still needs to be set up and rearranged anyway. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A week and a half since you’ve been to your new home, a week and a half of awkward family dinners, a week and a half of being shunned by your new step brother, and a week and a half of your boyfriend not texting you back.

Safe to say, this summer is starting off on the wrong foot for you and you’re already wanting it to be over so that you can at least focus on schoolwork, rather than the fact that it feels like everyone on this earth must hate you. 

You sit in your room once again after an awkward dinner, hearing your mother and Jay’s father talk quietly in the living room about being in love or something, you’re not sure, you don’t really care. 

At this point, being here rather than your mother’s old house just makes it worse. None of your friends are close enough to just up and visit you, Sunghoon certainly isn’t going to come un-bore you, and it appears that the only form of entertainment you can focus on is your own self-doubt at this moment. 

Why not go hang out with Jay? At least pushing his buttons would be more fun than wallowing in boredom and self-pity. Surely it would be more fun, surely he’d probably have some fun too, since he seems so fond of pissing you off already.

Up you go, onto your socked feet as you head for the door and just across the hallway to his cracked door. 

You don’t even knock before stepping inside as if it’s your own room.

You note that he jumps, startled at your presence. That split second of seeing him before, from behind, it seemed like he was quite focused on his pc, but his little surprised jump leads you to believe he was a bit too focused on it. 

“Sup bro,” You smile, flopping down on his bed in a grand entrance. “Watching porn?” 

Jay rolls his eyes, closing out his tabs because, well, he was gonna but hadn’t yet opened the website or closed his door. 

“Why are you in my room?” He asks, not turning to face you yet.

“I’m bored.” You admit, eyes looking at how messy his bedroom is. Posters on the wall, clothes thrown all around, abandoned dumbbells lying in the corner.

 If anything, you’re a little shocked that Jay is so messy. He appeared so clean cut and well-put together back before you were forced into close proximity with him, his room is a huge mismatch in your head right now. Like, wow, he has personality? His clothes aren’t all boring tones of white, beige, and gray? He likes music? Arguably pretty decent music if the posters are anything to go by.

“Your room is disgusting.”

“Then leave.”

You pause, sitting yourself up and staring at the back of his head.

“Why are you so fucking rude?” You ask, glaring a hole through the mess of hair on his head. 

“Because you’re incapable of having an intelligent discussion and still try to talk to me.” 

God, he’s so robotic when he speaks to you, it’s so disheartening. So emotionless, so boring.

“Jongseong.” You say, mostly to try and elicit some type of emotion out of him. 

He swivels his chair around to look at you, just as annoyed as you expected him to be.

“Stop calling me that.” He warns, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes. “Why are you bothering me right now?”

You shrug, eyes looking up and around his cluttered room again before sighing. 

“I’m bored,” You try to say nonchalantly. “And lonely now that my mom is too busy with your dad.”

Jay tilts his head at you in curiosity, almost seeming interested in your issues before smirking. 

“Yeah, well,” He chuckles, turning back to his computer. “What makes you think I’m not busy?”

You stand to your feet, huffing in defeat. 

“Listen,” You say, nearly tripping on a neglected shirt on the ground and grabbing his chair to force him to turn around. You see that it’s annoying him, which is great. “We should at least try to get along.”

Jay stays silent, looking past you and to his skewed bedroom door before sighing. 

“So, I guess you’re not as stupid as you seem then?” He offers, looking up at you from his chair with a stupid smirk on his face. Seemingly proud of how much he intends to talk his shit at you. “Smartest thing i’ve ever heard you say.”

God, he’s so fucking annoying. Why does he act like that? So pompous with such an ego. Which is really pathetic when you think about it and all of the times you never once noticed him on campus. Sure, there were a few times that you did, but what gives him the right to act so high and mighty? No one even knows who he is save for the professors who deal with his constant ass kissing.

“It’s embarrassing for you to think that your high GPA is all that's worthy of a person. You’re so stuck up, you know that, Jongseong?” You argue immediately, backing away and sitting right back on his bed. “It’s no wonder you’re such an asshole, you should go get your dick sucked or something because this is ridiculous.”

Jay pauses. 

“I’ve had my dick sucked plenty.” He laughs, because he’s not lying. “Still, sex doesn’t make me that dumb.”

The way he looks down on you is demeaning and offensive, if you’re being honest. And somehow, you’re shocked by those words, like entirely floored that he’d even say such a thing to you. You told him to get his dick sucked to loosen up that up-tight shitty personality, not because you wanted to fucking know that he’s not the virgin he parades around looking like. 

Still, you’re floored that he’s focusing on that single aspect of your comment. Simmering on it, insulting you for having sex. Calling you cock-stupid basically. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“You think half the school doesn’t see you practically ride Sunghoon in the hallways?” He rolls his eyes. 

“Maybe you’d have a brain in that little head of yours if you weren’t too busy letting him fuck it out of you.”

You lean back in disgust at him, reminding yourself that not even Sunghoon wants to talk to you right now. Sad that he’s almost right about it. Sunghoon does fuck you stupid, and you probably are fairly obvious about it considering there have been more times than you can count that he’s been just as hot and bothered mid-class day with you.

That doesn’t matter now though, considering he won’t fucking text you back. 

“Well, maybe you’d feel better knowing that I’m about to break up with him.” You huff. “Again. So maybe then, you’ll stop basing my entire existence on the fact that I get fucked like any normal person.”

Jay stops for a moment, seemingly pleased with what you just said. 

“Hmm,” He hums out, looking at you with a less annoyed gaze. “Maybe he hasn’t rendered you completely incompetent then.”

And with that, you’re done. You stand to your feet with a scoff and immediately head for his door. Only to bring Jay’s attention further to you. He presses your buttons on purpose, of course, but it’s fun for him. It’s not like you weren’t doing the same thing. He really thought you’d at least fight him a little more in this argument, and he finds himself confused as to why you’re actually offended. 

Soft, gullible, and stupid?

“Wait, hold on.” Jay says, noting the way you stop. “What did he do?” 

Of course he’s nosy, of course he wants the details, you think. And of course you’re going to stay and give them to him considering your mother is too wrapped up with someone else to hear about your relationship problems anyway. 

“I don’t know.” You give in immediately, prancing back on his bed as if you’re in a girl’s room and hugging one of his pillows. Which, mind you, somehow smells good despite the room looking like it should smell like dried sweat and cum. You’re pleased with the aroma as you breathe in to continue.  “He hasn’t texted me back since the last day of class, and I already know what that means.”

Jay leans forward in interest, for the first time listening to you rather than complaining about you. If anything, he’s invested in the break up solely because his past-self did find himself a little jealous that you wasted your time on such a man. 

“What does it mean, then?” He asks. 

“He’s probably with that girl he was with last summer.” You admit, voice cracking only a little bit. “He promised he wouldn’t but this would be the third time if it’s true.”

Jay was going to say something, but you cut him off.

“I broke up with him last summer too, and just a few days before the semester started he called me and begged for me to take him back. Something about how it won’t happen again this time, that he promises he will block her for good, and that he’s sorry.” 

Man, you are dumb. Which is a shame, because even for someone like you he doesn’t think that’s very fair. He knew Sunghoon was an asshole by his appearance alone, but like, cheating? On someone that’s as hot as you? With a body like yours? Really? 

“Huh.” He says, pinching the sides of his chin as he thinks. 

“Last time, he didn’t even respond when I broke up with him. I was finally feeling better when he decided to come back.”

“Then, just don’t let him this time?” 

You sit for a moment, thinking about if you’d have the ability to actually stay away from Sunghoon. He’s hot, and good fucking lord is he good at pleasuring you. Part of you was okay with the kind of, like, fling thing you had going on with him. The first two times he ignored you for someone else hurt, but you’re not hurting as much now.

You’re just annoyed now, because if Sunghoon would just be honest, maybe the two of you could work out something. How come he is rendered single during the summer but you’re not? After all, if you so much as mention another guy to him he gets mad. Hell, he even argued with Heeseung in front of you simply for hugging you around the waist rather than over the shoulders. 

“You know,” You start, trying to come up with some sort of solution. “I always think I won’t, but he always says the right things to make me believe him, even just in the moment.” You pause to take a breath in. “Things are so good during the semester, then he’s just gone when we are away.”

Jay thinks hard about this, and even harder about the crush he had on you previously, knowing that it’s still there despite trying to pretend it isn't. Knowing that he’s glad you and Sunghoon are in this back and forth. He’s happy you’re going to leave him, and not entirely because he’s cheating on you.

It’s partially because he doesn’t want to have to look at you with him. As wrong as that is. It didn’t hurt too bad before he knew you. After all, you were just a pretty girl to look at. But now? Seeing you around the house? Knowing your daily routine? Forced to be close to you and loving it despite pretending he hates it? 

It’s sad, really, that Jay immediately became more interested in you the moment he knew it was not only against the rules, but morally wrong. Still, ss dumb as you are, he knows he’d treat you right. 

And you know, if he could, he would. He would try and swoop in considering he’s around you during your breaks and has the full ability to be there on campus as well, unlike Sunghoon. Never would either of you have to be apart from each other. 

There are several issues with this though. Obviously. And he has to keep reminding himself each time he thinks about it. He doesn’t fucking see you as his step-sister. You’re still just that pretty girl with the pretty lips, who wastes her body on men who don’t want her. You’re not his type at all, and yet? You’re entirely the girl of his dreams.

Logically, he clearly isn’t your type either, if Sunghoon is anything to go by. 

By marriage, he is now your brother. By marriage, he is now barred from openly glancing at you and your body. By fucking marriage, Jay is forced into a guilty mindset of wanting to disobey every moral direction in his head involving you.

The good news? By marriage, he is now obligated to protect you as your brother. So, is it really a taboo that he’s happy to see you think about leaving Sunghoon? Of course it isn’t.

And he’s gonna keep telling himself that. 

“Then maybe, since you’re away from him and he’s out doing his thing, you should–” He internally panics for a second, knowing he’s talking too quickly to stop himself. “Maybe you should go out and have some fun too.”

He immediately regrets it upon saying it. Why the fuck would he insinuate you should go out and fuck more dudes who would probably treat you just like Sunghoon does? He has to think fast, and he has to think now.

You watch him, amazed by the fact that he isn’t arguing with you. He’s actually helping you, and offering some pretty solid advice. 

“Like, I should just cheat on him?” You stare. 

“Well, no. You’re breaking up with him, aren’t you?”  He continues, tuning out to what you’re saying and tuning in to his head in order to figure out how to bar you from actually heeding the advice. 

You take a moment before nodding, it’s not like this would be anything new to Sunghoon anyway. 

“I’m sure you’ll meet someone here that’ll be better.” He finally adds to his advice, entirely half-assing it because you’d better not. Unless that person is him.  “Perhaps you wouldn’t want Sunghoon back by the time fall semester starts.”

And with that confirmation, you smile at him. 

“Aw,” You say snidely. “Look at us, getting along and shit.”

He stares forward, narrows his eyes just like before, and then turns back to his PC. 

“Now get out.” 

And for the first time, you don’t argue. Feeling a little better about joining his family now. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“A hundred dollars a month.”  Jay emphasizes in a hushed tone to Jake. “Just hear me out, she’s hot.”

“Jay, that’s your sister.”

“Okay? Are you going to do it or not?” 

“Make it two hundred.” Jake counters, leaning close and staring his best friend in the face. “I gotta say, it’s a little weird that you’re paying me to do this. I’m only just finding out you have a sister, dude.”

Jay keeps his face calm, trying to appear like this is simply to help out his lonely step sister. In reality, he’s doing this solely so he knows what is happening with your relationship status, and he is absolutely praying for Sunghoon’s downfall. 

Plus, if he pays someone to date you, it makes up for the fact that he can’t give it a shot himself. Jake can easily get your focus off of Sunghoon for even just a little while, he’s sure of it and considering he’s his best friend, he knows Jake wont cross any boundaries and keep this to strictly business. After all, Jake can just break up with you by the time you’re over Sunghoon, and who will be there to comfort you?

Exactly. Jay will be there. 

Essentially, your step-brother will have full control over your love life for a mere two hundred dollars a month. 

All so you don’t go out and actually meet someone else. All so he doesn’t have the jealousy in the back of his brain nagging at him. All so he can, kind of, in his head, keep you to himself. 

“Well, to be fair –” Jay offers to Jake, noting how long his hair has gotten. “I’m just finding out I have a step sister too. But listen, she’s got this asshole going back and forth with her and I can’t let him keep doing it.”

“So, what you’re saying is that, you’re paying me to get your sister’s mind off of him?” Jake raises a brow, stunned by the fact that he hasn’t seen Jay all year and this is the first thing they talk about upon meeting up again. “Why me?”

Jay smiles.

“You’re my best friend, anyone else would cross a boundary. Just date her ‘til she moves on or something, I don’t know. I don’t want to watch her be taken advantage of by someone like him.” He explains, as if he’s not trying to take advantage of the situation himself.

Jake nods, not really needing to think too much about how good of a deal this is. 

“What makes you think I could pull her though? You just said that she’s hot. Since when can I pull hot girls?”

“Well, you probably can’t,” Jay laughs, “But you could probably play the part pretty well if you act like your GPA is garbage and like, i don’t know? Act cool? She seems to like the idiot edgy guys.”

Jay is pleased with the way Jake instantly accepts, and doesn’t focus on the fact any longer that he called his step sister hot, or at least, until he does.

“Okay. Act cool, maybe paint my nails–” Jake’s eyes light up. “Oh! Do you think she’s into, like, band guys? I can pull out your old guitar and say you’re teaching me to play so I can get bitches.”

Jay smacks him across the head for already acting about as dumb as you’d probably like, then actually considers the fact that it’s a great idea.

“Wait, yeah actually.” Jay smiles. “Would probably be best if she doesn’t know we are friends too. Use that as an excuse to come over and hangout and stuff.” He trails off momentarily before Jake speaks again.

“So, is she actually hot though?” 

Jay freezes, because yeah. But he really can’t just say that again considering the circumstances. Plus, why the fuck should Jake care? He only said it before as a means to convince him to take the deal.

“You’ll like her.” He avoids saying anything else, ignoring the feeling in his gut that he knows Jake is going to be all over you the second he gets the chance. “Just–listen, there are rules involved in this.” Jay finally warns, tapping his wallet.

“Rules? Okay, go on.” 

“For two hundred a month, take her out. Just dates. Talk to her and hang out with her, I don’t know.” He starts, waving his hands around as if he’s trying to think about what he’s saying, and ultimately, beating around the bush. He notes quite quickly though, how Jake looks at him as if he just stated the obvious.

“I mean, like, don’t fuck her. Don’t kiss her, don’t be weird.”

Because that, somehow, feels worse than knowing you’re already wasting your body on Sunghoon. 

Jake tilts his head in confusion.

“How exactly are you going to pay me to date her and not act like I’m interested?” He asks, furrowing his brows. “What if she tries to kiss me? What if she tries to fuck me?”

Jay laughs, or snorts, really.

“Please.” He waves him off. “I doubt that will be an issue but if, for some insane reason it does come up– just tell her you’re saving yourself or something.”

And at the end of the day, Jake accepts the terms of the deal, not yet pocketing the money because Jay tells him that he needs to go home before you come home. 

Why? Because he’s not looking the part. If you walk in and see this loser sitting in front of him, you’ll automatically know that Jake is a close friend of Jay’s. You need to not know that. 

So, with that, Jake goes home with a plan to come over for “guitar lessons” the following day, at a time where Jay knows you’ll be home. And then? After the initial meeting, he will get his first payment. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He knew it. Jay fucking knew you were a slut. 

Jake didn’t even have to try that hard. Honestly, it’s almost pathetic to watch. If anyone on campus found out, if Sunghoon found out how you’re acting right now, he thinks your reputation would spiral straight into the gutter. 

And while he shames you for unintentionally falling into the trap, he feels proud. Proud that his best friend is able to play a part so well. 

Jake came over, dark hair unbrushed but somehow intentionally styled, flannel hanging off his shoulder, where a ratty black tank covered his chest underneath. Ripped jeans just tight enough to show off, just loose enough to make it look like he knows how to wear these kinds of clothes, and he wears them well. Nails painted, and it even appears that he intentionally chipped them. 

Hell, he barely recognized his own best friend when he walked through the door. 

“Holy shit.” Jay had said upon sizing him up. “What the fuck?” 

And Jake just smiled at him, with the same loser-filled dopey grin as he always had before the two of them went to Jay’s room, made sure the door was open, and plugged in the guitar for maximum noise level.

After all, His father and your mother go on date nights like three times a week it seems. There’s plenty of time to be rowdy college kids if need be. 

And the need is definitely here. 

It wasn’t long by the time you came home, curious as to why you were hearing the sound of guitar strings being plucked terribly. When the fuck did Jay play a guitar? Arguably, if this is what he does when no one is home, maybe he’s a little more likable in the fact that his hobbies aren’t sitting around and jerking off while staring at his GPA. 

When you walked into the room though, prepared to annoy the fuck out of your step-brother, you stopped upon seeing him look the same as ever while sitting just in front of….some guy.

Just, some fucking guy. 

A hot fucking guy. 

With a guitar on his lap, with your step brother offering direction to him.

Jay looked at you, noted your curiosity of his best friend-turned-pretend-stranger, and then glared. 

“Can I help you?” He had said, taking the guitar from the guy and propping it up on his lap.

You stood there, feeling the eyes of the other dude staring you up and down before shaking your head 

“Uh, no.” You had responded before awkwardly slinking away and into your own room.

And honestly, it would have ended there if it weren’t for the fact that Jake was immediately whisper shouting at Jay about how you really are hot. Making plans on how to get you back in the room, or perhaps how to get Jake out of it and beside you.

It wasn’t hard really, as Jay reminds himself how it all went down. His own discomfort aside at how Jake appears to act much like he does in his own head. 

“Just finished up the lesson, you wanna come eat something with us?” He had said, far too out of character.

“You give fucking guitar lessons?” You responded, entirely confused by the fact that….Jay was the one who played the nice sounding strums, not the guy in front of him, the one that appeared to be the type to be the one giving the lesson.

“Yeah? Are you coming or not?”

You paused, and ultimately joined them upon Jay stating that you could starve for all he cares. 

And that’s when Jake started his act. 

Sitting next to you, looking at you, asking about your interests, telling you that Jay is helping him learn the guitar because he has dreams of forming his own band someday. That he’s in college but doesn’t really care much for it, that his dreams lie in the stars still and no desk or nine to five job would bring them down for him.

Jay did want to smack his best friend across the head for that lame line, but you seemed to think it was poetic, or romantic, or some shit. It only further reminded him that you’re entirely too dumb and he needs to be here to make sure you don’t get all caught up again with a guy who doesn’t look at you the way he does. 

The way he can’t stop looking at you, actually. 

Jay watched as you fell in tune with his best friend’s pretend-persona, and arguably Jake was far more charismatic than usual. If he chose to really dress like this, or act like this, Jay thinks he could probably pull any girl he wants. 

And he watched, and he watched, and he watched. Up until the third time Jake pretended he was going to leave so as to not intrude in the home any further. 

Jay didn’t have to make the excuse that time. It was you. 

And that’s when he noted that you are, absolutely, unmistakably, a fucking slut. 

Why? Well, it could be due to the fact that after having a quick meal, you ran to your room and came back out dawning your own fucking tank top, showing off a pair of nice tits that you seemed to hide from him. Which, his head shouldn’t be in the gutter about that but man. He and Jake were both stunned at how you decided to present yourself. 

Could be due to the fact that it’s like, you met Jake for a solid hour and immediately started sucking up. Using a cute voice that Jay knows for a fact is fake as hell. You whine about Sunghoon, like you’d struggle to truly break up with him, but you’re still all over Jake like you’ve been flirting for fucking years.

It could also be due to the fact that you invited Jake to stay longer by inviting him into your room under the guise of “checking out your music selection.”

Jay was left to his devices by that point, where you led his best friend to your room and closed the door in his face with the argument of, “Jongseong, since when were you so interested in what I listen to anyway?”

He huffed in annoyance at you saying his name and then slamming the door on him, he huffs in even more annoyance as he steps back and leans against the wall thinking hard about the plan he’s come up with. 

The fact that he’s living with a total skank who never once looked at him the way you did to Jake all fucking day. Is he that boring? Really? He knew you liked edgy guys based on Sunghoon. Such a pretty boy, despite getting rowdy and dirty during hockey practice and matches. Jay never understood how he kept his face pristine, and also never understood why girls liked him at all when it came to how much of an asshole he was. 

And then there’s Jake, playing the part of someone Jay assumed you’d like. It’s the fact that you do like it, and it’s entirely different from himself. Even if you weren’t now related by marriage, he probably never would have had a fucking chance with you to begin with.

Even with all of that clicking in his head, he still finds himself wanting you more now than he ever did before. With that fucking tank top, and that stupid fake voice you were using, and with your stupid interest in his stupid best friend.

This was probably a bad idea. After all, he could have just left it alone but no. He just had to be in control of who you’re dating. At the very least though, Jake knows to keep his hands to himself, and that’s the only thing that comforts Jay in regards to this deal.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Jongseong?” Jake laughs when you close the door and trap him in your room with him. Eyes glued to you and the sweet deal Jay offered up. “I’ve never heard him called that before.”

He’s lying, of course. Jake has been in and out of this house since he was a child. He’s heard the name hundreds of times, if not thousands. 

“I know, right? I couldn’t help but laugh when I heard it the first time.” You snicker, putting on a show when you head to your unpacked box of disks and vinyls. “I don’t think he likes it when I call him that, so I try to do it as much as possible.”

Jake offers you a crooked smile, messy hair dangling in front of his eyes as if they were somewhat….shy? Like he’s being bashful in this room with you, but you try not to think about that because, well, look at him. 

He doesn’t seem like the shy type. 

“Maybe I’ll start doing it too then.” Jake laughs, standing awkwardly behind you when you bend over to pick up the box. Immediately he chokes up, stepping closer unintentionally because honestly, who wouldn’t think with their dick at this point? 

And when you stand back up, turning with the box, you jump at how close he’s gotten. 

“Oh!” You breathe in surprise, looking away shyly for a moment, wondering how lucky you must be for your boring ass step brother to invite such a nice looking guy into the home. “Um, you have a nice smile.” You add out of nowhere, and then immediately feel embarrassed. 

“You have nice tits,” is what Jake would say in response if he were for one, allowed to, and two, not a nervous mess about being alone in a room with such a pretty girl.

Only now does he realize how difficult this might be to get through. For two hundred dollars? Well, it’s a sweet deal if you actually want to go on a date with him, and given the persona he’s given himself, he thinks he could probably get away with asking tonight. Which is insane, because he really thought he’d be paid another two hundred just to get to that point. You’re entirely into him though, and he hates to admit that he might be entirely into you too. Jay would kick his ass if he knew what’s going through his head right now.

“I like your tank top,” Jake says instead, wanting to reach forward and snap the strap of it solely because he feels confident enough to do it, but he doesn’t. The words are actually quite lame, and are a blatant show at how bad he is at talking to girls. Thankfully though, you know, since he’s supposed to sound like a guy with two brain cells, it kinda works out. 

“It matches mine.” 

You smile shyly yet again, entirely in tune with the idea of taking Jay’s advice and having some fun yourself. Perhaps with this guy. But for now? You have to at least pretend you actually want to show him your music collection.

And of course, Jake has to pretend he actually cares about it when you sit down on your bed and start sifting through the boxes. 

“Huh, you like some pretty heavy stuff. I wasn’t expecting that.” Jake compliments, though uninterested in a music taste that isn’t his own, it’s insane how the two of you do listen to some of the same bands. 

“Oh yeah? Why not?” You ask, sitting up straight and making sure your chest looks good enough to keep his eyes glancing down at them.

Because he hasn’t stopped looking, really. 

“I dunno,” Jake shrugs, watching how your tits squeeze together and he can’t tell if it’s intentional or not. No girl has ever tried to show off for him like this, and he’s enjoying it a bit too much. “I, um,” He loses his train of thought when you lean back, letting your breasts fall into their natural position as you look at him. 

“My eyes are up here, Jake.” You smile, watching him tear his eyes away and swallow around a lump in his throat. 

“Oh, right.” He lends a nervous chuckle, one that he feels is entirely out of character given the personality he’s supposed to have. “Can’t really help it, they’re nice.”

Ah, right back into the act, perfect. 

He almost panicked at the forwardness too, because Jake would never have the confidence to say such a thing to a woman on any other day. 

“Oh? You can’t?” You smile, leaning back up and pushing the box from your lap. “Maybe I should cover up then?” You add, staring right at his flannel. 

Jake notes your line of sight and then looks down at his own shirt. 

“What?” He says, pinching the collar of the flannel and shaking it. “You already wanna wear my clothes?” He smiles. 

“If you wanna see me in them.” You comment shortly, sizing him up for the billionth time. “Or out of them.”

Well, it’s safe to say Jake wasn’t prepared for that. This deal is going a bit too smoothly, and he just knows that Jay must not have any idea of this side of you. His sister, right here, insinuating Jake should like, take her clothes off. Or rather, take his clothes off of you.

It’s against the rules but goddamn is he feeling the spark with you. Right in his pants, actually. Embarrassingly. 

“I’ll give it to you right now if you go out with me tomorrow night.” Jake avoids the situation smoothly, while offering an alternative. “Then, we can talk about getting my clothes off of you.”

You nod, feeling your heart skip beats at flirting with a man that isn’t Sunghoon. 

“Hand it over then.” You reach out, leaning in real close to him. “But, I’d still rather you keep staring at my tits.”

Man, following the rules Jay set in place is gonna be way, way, harder than he thought. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake could get used to this, really. Taking you on dates, anyway. What he can’t get used to? Dodging anything more than dirty talk and then coming over just the next day to see the confusion on your face as to why he isn’t picking up your hints. 

He wants to, like really, he really, really, fucking wants to. You’re so blatant with him on dates, rubbing up on him, whispering slutty little words that only drive his cock to pulse and beg to be used. He can’t bear it, especially knowing that these very dates are paid for by your own step brother.

 Still, if he were allowed, he probably could have gotten himself between your legs on the very first day he met you. 

“No, dude, she was all over me this time, even more than usual.” Jake explains to Jay during another guitar lesson, pleased that he’s actually learning how to play. “She even mentioned that guy Sunghoon and said I was way cooler than him.”

Jay was pleased, he could say. Save for the jealousy that only grows each time he watches you take Jake away from his lesson to hang out with, without him. Save for the fact that you only continue to prove that you like any guy who isn’t him. In reality, why would you? He knows there is logic to this situation, but he is finding it harder and harder every day to think logically around you. 

Jealous. He’s jealous. He’s mad at how bad you want it from Jake. Hell, you’d probably take it from anyone at this point as he eyes his best friend and his new found fashion sense. It matches him, and acting like an idiot seems to match him too. Maybe Jay should consider not brushing his hair and dumbing down a little bit too. 

Then again, this could just be the resentment in him building up. He’s the only reason Jake has a girl throwing herself at him. Both you and Jake should be far more thankful for what Jay has brought upon the three of you. 

Still, he’s pissed about how good the plan is working, and before long, he’s hoping that Sunghoon will be long forgotten when Jake finally asks you to be his girlfriend. Then he can toy around for a bit before breaking up with you under the guise that “you’re just not his type.”

“I had the idea that she was easy,” Jay explains, rolling his eyes at his best friend. “No wonder Sunghoon kept coming back, it’s like he knew she would throw herself at him at the drop of a hat.” 

Jake pauses, furrowing his brow. 

“Why would you even say something like that?” Jake asks, tilting his head. “Aren’t we doing this to like, help her?”

Jay shakes his thoughts out, realizing how awful that must have sounded. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves off his edgy best friend. “Of course. I was just saying.”

There's some awkward silence in the room now as Jay’s internal panic takes over. He doesn’t want his reputation on the line for this. Even just to Jake. Perhaps he’s being too resentful with his words, only able to offer passive-aggressive remarks out loud when it comes to you. 

“I just thought that if we got her away from him, maybe she’d stop throwing herself at guys that don’t care about her, is all.”

Jake gives him a look of further confusion, maybe even some concern. “Um, isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” 

Damn, Jay really should’ve thought that through. Is he losing his touch? Is your stupidity rubbing off on him now?

“Yeah, but you’re not touching her so, maybe it’ll help her learn some fucking self restraint? I don’t know dude, just be a good boyfriend, fuck.” 

Jake raises his hands in defense, realizing he basically interrogated Jay of his choice of words, and perhaps thought too deeply into them. Still, he can’t help but feel like Jay holds some type of hatred within him for you, which is weird, considering the lengths he is going to try and “help” you. 

“God, relax.” Jake reaches forward to grab his best friend by the shoulders. “As much as she throws herself at me, I guess I can kind of understand what you mean.” 

Jake understands far too well, having gone through one too many dates while trying to contain himself to give in to your every hint or insinuation of at least kissing. 

He happens to miss the way Jay glares at him for his words though. Because in all honesty, no one is allowed to talk about you like that but him, and there was something in him that broke to hear Jake insinuate that you’re a slut. Like Jake isn’t the luckiest guy in the world right now to have you throwing yourself at him? 

Bullshit.

“I’ll be a good boyfriend, I promise.” Jake finally adds, checking his watch. “She’s gonna be home soon too. I’ll try and get her to hang out in the living room this time so you can see what I mean though.”

Jay wants to refuse the option to watch even more than he already has to, but there’s something in him that kind of can’t resist it. 

“She likes horror movies, you know?” Jake continues, giving Jay information that he probably should have already known, but somehow doesn’t. “I’ll tell her that you wanted to watch the new one, and I’ll pay to rent it since, you know, you’re paying me to do this.”

Jay shrugs casually, anticipating the image of you and his best friend all tangled up on the couch, while he’s stuck at the end by himself. With no one. Alone. 

“Yeah, that’s fine. Dad’s probably gonna be home but I can ask for the living room.” 

“Oh shit, wait–” Jake thinks hard. “What if he sees me looking like this? Acting like this? She’s gonna find out that I've been lying this entire time about us being friends and shit.”

Jake only panics because he believes he’s acting more with Jay than he is with you. If you were to find out that he’s been lying, you’d be so angry at him. But do you know what scares him more? Jay finding out that he maybe kind of actually likes you more than he’s supposed to.

Jay sighs in defeat because his best friend is right, if his father finds out that Jake is running around acting like this, dressing like this, he’ll definitely say something about it.

“You know…” Jake finally says, staring at Jay’s TV. 

“No.” Jay immediately shuts the idea down, not at all wanting to experience the two of you tangled together on his own bed. 

“Dude, come on. Why not?”

Jay rolls his eyes in an annoyed huff, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stands to put the guitar away, ignoring that there was no practicing at all today. It’s just been hours of talking about you. And how you’ve managed to find yourself a summer job so fast, and how you’re entirely horny for Jake, and how–

“I don’t want to see my own sister try and get in your pants in my room.” Jay tries to explain as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Then, immediately he gives in. Solely because the sudden thought of you lying in his bed at all again is something that….might help later.

“Jake, so help me god if you so much as brush your hand across her tit I’m going to slice your tires.”

Jake smiles in victory, nodding to his best friend with the promise that, at least tonight, he wouldn’t do such a thing. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Every day you find yourself wondering why it is that Jake appears to be so into you, yet constantly shooting you down. 

When you try to kiss him, he leans in, his eyes start to close, sometimes you can even feel his breath on your lips then, he just– pulls away?

When you try to insinuate that you want to touch him, or want him to touch you, you can physically see his reaction. The way his ears go red, his eyes go dark, and occasionally you even catch a glimpse of what’s in his pants growing heavy and strained. 

It’s driving you crazy, really. With the way he talks all that shit but doesn’t live up to it. He’ll say some of the nicest things, he’ll dirty talk you in the middle of a restaurant, he’ll even make promises to follow through with it too. But he never does. You find yourself wondering why you even continue to text him back, or why you consistently keep this fucking flannel he offered up to you on the first day of meeting. 

Every single date, you’ve worn it, just to see if he’s got the nerve to take it off of you. And every single date he pretends like it wasn’t his flannel to begin with, despite his hungry stare constantly staying on you. 

So now, as you awkwardly half-lay on Jay’s bed with him, Jay separated and on his computer chair, you wonder why he’s even here. 

Sure, Jay gives him lessons but as far as you know, it’s a little strange that he stayed over to watch a movie with you presumably, only to invite Jay, and to you know, watch it inside of Jay’s room.

Are they like, friends now or something? Well, arguably they had to have at least been friends on some level, but still. It feels awkward hanging out with Jay when you’re trying to get his “friend” to rail you. 

Either way, you guess you don’t mind too much when Jake is actually next to you. Most doubt sinks into the back of your head and the confusion is replaced with that of extreme arousal. Something about this guy, Jake, is alluring and feels…right? Is that the right word for it? Like, correct? Or maybe, meant to be? 

You know, maybe he’s waiting on sleeping with you because despite his edgy appearance and his dead-beat goals in life, maybe he really is just a big softie and wants this to work out long-term. God, you hope you’re right about that.

Doesn’t stop you from trying though, as the movie reaches its climax and you move your hand under the covers against Jake’s legs, feeling the rips of his jeans and sliding your hand through one of them. Gently, attempting to feel the warmth of his skin in a discreet and somewhat cheeky way. 

You hear his intake of breath at the touch, his shoulders stiffening as he stares forward to try and focus on the movie. Still, you feel his hand move lower, lying it directly on yours with only his thin, ripped denim separating the touch. 

“Oops.” You whisper to him, slowly massaging the thick of his thigh with your finger tips, toying with the way he reacts.

You don’t notice the way his eyes shift to Jay, who was already glaring at the movement he noted under the covers, on his fucking bed.

Jake, on the other hand, feels like he’s between a rock and a hard place right now. 

He’s being paid to pretend to like you, being paid to not genuinely like you, being paid to not touch you, and practically being paid to ask you to be his girlfriend only to break up with you.

Which fucking sucks because he maybe, kind of, likes you? A little bit?

A lot, actually, especially with your cheeky little whispers and sneaky little hands. 

Arguably though, Jay should have known better than to expect Jake to not feel some type of way towards a girl like you. To Jake, it’s insane anyone could simply pretend to be into you without actually falling in deep. You’re not only hot, but you’re fucking funny too? You laugh at his jokes? You cuddle up with him? You’re actually a lot smarter than Jay gives you credit for? And you appear to want to kiss and touch him just as bad as he does.

So, it’s torture really, that he’s so close to breaking. So fucking close to kicking Jay out of his own room just to feel what your hands alone could do for him but, he refrains. 

He suffers, sitting here with this not very good horror movie, pretending his cock doesn’t ache for you. Pretending his own best friend doesn’t see how much he wants it. Yet, still hoping you see. 

And you do. You do see it. 

You feel it too, as you shift your hands out of his ripped jeans and move them upwards as silently and secretly as you can while remaining focused on the movie. You brush your pinky up and against the dick you clearly want so badly at this point. And the way Jake flexes it, almost intentionally lifting his cock up for you to know he likes it, despite the risk of Jay seeing. Despite the fact that he hasn’t done this at any point when the two of you were alone. 

You smile to yourself, pushing your hand closer, closer, closer, until you grab it.

There goes his stiff shoulders again, there goes a soft sigh, and you’re fucking beaming.

Jay sees the way the covers are moving over the lap of his best friend, and honestly? He’s appalled over the fact that Jake was right. You fucking throw yourself at him with no shame, to the point that not even being in the same room as your step-brother would stop you enough to have some fucking self-restraint. 

He watches for a while, about five minutes or so. Studies the way Jake makes attempts to arch away from your touch as if he’s following the rules of the deal but, Jay isn’t stupid. Jake, of all people, should know that. He can fucking see the way he also arches into your touch too, despite it all being under the blanket he sleeps under at night. 

It’s not until Jay sees you throw your leg over Jake’s, and you lean in really close to him to the point your face is hidden in his neck and Jake appears to be listening to something you’re saying, that he decides to put a stop to this. 

Neither of you are even watching this movie. You’re encouraging Jake, surely. You’re trying to snake your hand down his pants. You’re trying to fuck his best friend, right in front of him. 

It feels like an insult, or perhaps an intentional act of defiance and god knows Jake wouldn’t be able to resist if Jay himself feels a twitch in his pants at the scene unfolding, even through this frustration. 

Why are you like this? Why do you just–do this to yourself? To him? To his best friend? Why do you seem to know how irresistible you are? It’s almost at the point that Jay wouldn’t even want to put a stop to it solely to see what your hands could to for him if this life wasn’t so fucked up. 

Still, he has to put an end to it. Jake is breaking the rules. 

“Are you really trying to do that right now?” Jay asks out, and he watches the way you snap your hand back and lean away from Jake. 

Both heads turn to him, and he huffs out a sigh of frustration that shows you crossed a line. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to pretend that you weren’t doing anything at all to the pretty boy sitting next to you. 

“God–” Jay grimaces. “You’re really gonna play dumb after arguing with me that you’re not?”

You lift past Jake, staring at him. 

“You can be a whore all you want, but to assume I want to see it? You’re disgusting. I’m your fucking step-brother.” He finally says, as if it’s final, and as if to convince himself that every word he spits is true. 

Jake remains silent as he listens to the way Jay speaks to you, quite offended for you, maybe even a bit pissed off about it himself. Then again, it could just be because Jay is dead set on cock-blocking him. 

You though? You feel silenced, a little embarrassed, and entirely turned on by the fact that Jake’s first time letting you actually touch him, was right here. Maybe he’s into that. You know, like, being caught or something. Still, the quickness in which Jay shames you isn’t shocking at all but for him to have an ego to the point of assuming you did this for him to watch? Insane, he’s so fucking stuck in his head to believe that everything a person does, is because of him. 

A fucking text-book narcissist.

“And you.” Jay says, shifting his eyes over to Jake. “You could do better.”

Ouch. That stings a little bit, as your eyes avoid looking towards Jay and fall onto Jake, who only swallows at his words. 

Without another word, you shift from the bed, stand to your feet, and walk out, leaving the two in the room alone.

Jake feels, uh, bad? 

Or rather, he knows he’s supposed to but he simply doesn’t. After all, it’s been two paychecks from Jay now and he still hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend solely because he finds himself wanting it to last. 

Even without the sex. Even with the intense edging he’s being put through. Even with the fact that he’s hard as a rock as Jay attempts to scold him, he doesn’t feel bad.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jay finally offers to the silence of the room upon turning off the movie. “Did we not agree that you’d–”

Jake huffs out, annoyed for the first time.

“Dude, shut up already.” He rolls his eyes as he turns to his friend, wincing at the way his cock is going soft and sensitive. “Don’t tell me you didn’t fucking see me try to stop her.”

Jay thinks that through for a moment. Not entirely blaming Jake for like, eventually giving up and letting you touch him but also entirely pissed that it’s happening for Jake, and not for himself. 

“You did a bad fucking job of it.” He gripes back to him. “If you give in to the fact that she has no self-respect, you’re just as bad as Sunghoon and I’ll just go find someone else to take care of her.” 

Jake pauses because he's right in terms of the deal but god. It’s not like he can just out and say “hey, so i think i actually like her and wouldn’t be against actually dating her, like for real, also i hate the way you talk to her so if you don’t stop i might have to punch you in the face.” 

“I’m not going to give in.” Jake lies, knowing for a fact that it’s only a matter of time before he does. “She still cries over Sunghoon and I’m genuinely trying to make this situation better here, Jay, so fucking relax.”

Jay wants to believe him, but truly, he doesn’t. Solely because there’s no way he won't give in considering what he’s just witnessed. At this point, you might actually end up wanting to be with Jake for good, and Jay will lose his control of the whole situation. 

“Plus, you can’t just go find some stranger to do this, they’d definitely fuck her, day one.” Jake makes a good point to his friend, reminding him that he isn’t the dumb guy he’s parading as. 

Jay does take those words into account. Honestly, he really would have the entire control taken from him if he paid someone else to do this. At least he can threaten Jake with friendship, or guilt him or something if he does step over the line.

“Hurry it up then, I don’t want this shit to last all summer.” Jay finally huffs out, slightly defeated that this is his fault anyway, but still trusting his best friend and understanding him on some level. 

“Okay, I’ll go ask her to be my girlfriend right now.” Jake smiles. “The sooner I ask, the sooner she gets over him, and the sooner all of this can be over with, right?”

He hopes he’s wrong.

Jay nods reluctantly, and Jake is instantly out of the room and able to breathe the biggest sigh of relief in his life. It’s insane how he’d rather be with you over his own childhood best friend, but whatever. Life works in mysterious ways or something. 

And as Jay sits in silence, glaring at the spot on the bed where you had his best friend’s dick in your hand, all he can do is feel angry.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hear the soft knock on your door and already know exactly who it is. It’s not Jay, it’s not his father, and it’s certainly not your mother. 

The knock is gentle, almost reluctant despite knowing he’s allowed to walk into your room at any point, without so much as asking. 

“Come in.” You smile to yourself, trying to push the awkward situation that just happened out of your mind. 

The door opens and Jake steps inside, looking to the floor and seemingly avoiding eye contact with you. Part of you wonders if it’s because he finally had the balls to let you touch his dick, but another part of you knows it’s probably because Jay just chewed his ass out for letting you do it right in front of him.

“Sorry about doing that,” You look away now, trying to deafen the silence in your room into a numbness that doesn’t feel nearly as awkward as it does right now. “I shouldn’t have done that in front of Jongseo-”

Jake immediately shakes his head at your words, sitting down on your bed and grabbing your face in his hands. 

It’s a shock, actually, that only now he acts the way you expected from the beginning. 

“It’s my fault.” Jake explains, holding your face to look at him. “I wanted to make you my girlfriend before we did anything more–” He continues, already leaning in to kiss you for the first time without shying away from it. “I didn’t want you to think I was just trying to fuck you.” 

And man, that hit you right in the heart, especially because he said it, and then immediately kissed you before letting you answer him. As if he was afraid you’d say no or something. As if he’s trying to prove something right now. 

He certainly is proving it too, surprising you in the way he’s a decent kisser though not entirely great at it. Such a confident and pretty boy seems to not have nearly as much experience with girls as he lets on. That alone was something you picked up on, because let’s be honest. 

No one but Jake would get that obviously hard at a restaurant over spilled water on your tits. 

And when he pulls back from the kiss, he feels elated in the way he just lied straight to Jay’s face. Promising to follow through with the deal, which also held the promise of no physical contact with you. 

He really walked straight out of his best friend’s room, went to your room, and kissed you. He couldn’t be prouder of it when he pulls back, heart pounding in defiance, and looking at you for an answer. 

“You want me to be your girlfriend?” Is the first thing you ask, feeling his hands fall from your face and land against both sides of your hips as you look at him. “And that’s why you let me make a fool of myself trying to get in your pants?”

You both smile before chuckling and looking away from each other at how blatant that question was, because you both know how true it is. 

Only Jake knows how true it isn’t supposed to be though. 

“Yeah,” He answers, looking away from you and ignoring the chill on his shoulders from the air in your room. He really should stop trying to dress like a slutty man for you, honestly. It’s no wonder you were all over him.

“I kind of don’t think it would be a good idea if I fuck my guitar teacher’s sister without at least taking her on a few date’s first, you know?”

“Hah,” You roll your eyes briefly before flopping back against your pillows and feeling the way his hands fall lower to the top of your thighs. They’re warm, and big. “You’re always around and I can’t say Jongseong has that many friends to begin with.”

Jake almost feels bad that he knows you’re right. 

“Arguably, you’re probably his only friend and he would feel embarrassed knowing you don’t even see him as one to begin with.” You laugh at how sad Jay really is as a person. “Just your guitar teacher, huh?”

Someone so entitled, so fucking rude. If anything, he should know by now that his lack of friends are determined entirely by his shitty personality. 

“I can see that,” Jake nods, staying put as you blink up at him from the pillows. “I mean, I like hanging out with him but I don’t necessarily like the way he talks to you. I can imagine he’d kill me if he knew I kissed you.”

You roll your eyes.

“I can assure you, Jake. He doesn’t give two fucks about me.” Your arms reach out for him, and immediately he intertwines his fingers with yours.

And it feels good for him to do. To have a girlfriend in some way, despite it not technically being real to anyone but himself and you. After all, a relationship built on a lie can’t last, can it? 

Maybe he really should just stick to the plan and pull back before it’s too late. Maybe you wouldn’t even be interested in him if he didn’t act this way. Or if he didn’t dress this way. Or talk this way. Or play guitar. 

How could he ever think he’s even in the right to do this to begin with? What? For two hundred a month? God, he fucked up yet, he doesn’t want to turn back now. 

There’s a chance it can still work, right? He can at least enjoy the time he has with you before he inevitably has to break up with you, right? 

You don’t have to know about the deal, and Jay doesn’t have to know about how he intends to break the terms of it. 

…Right? 

“So,” Jake finally says, looking away from you before turning and falling forward over you, keeping his fingers tightly locked with yours above your head as he lands his face in front of yours. “Will you be my girlfriend then?” 

You smile shyly, looking down before making direct eye contact with him again. Noting how his lips constantly form a natural pout in silence, and the way his eyes are always so bright. 

“What about when my break is over and I have to go back to campus?” You ask reluctantly, hoping that he isn’t like Sunghoon. “Are you just going to stop talking to me?”

Jake hates that he is in a position where he has to lie, going back and forth in his mind of whether to betray himself or his own best friend.

“I like you, you know?” He says, not breaking eye contact. Trying to will his words now to stick with you through the inevitable break up if that's what it comes down to. “I’d come see you every weekend.” 

You smile. 

“So, what? You think I’m just gonna let you be so far away all the time?” He continues, instilling a sense of comfort in your chest. “You think I’d be able to stay away from you for a whole semester? I can barely make it a few days as is.”

The way he chuckles at how silly your question sounds makes you feel…wanted? Almost needed?

And as you look up at him, with that mess of fluffy hair and big, sparkling eyes, all you can think about is how lucky you feel to have so many new people in your life this summer. Even Jay. You appreciate the fact that he brought Jake into your life, even if accidental. 

You’re happy your mom is in love, happy that his father appears to be good for her, happy that Jake is here right now, treating you like a goddamn person. 

Happy that Sunghoon hasn’t texted you. 

Happy that even Jay encourages you to keep your break-up status with the man, showing that he cares on some level for your well being. 

“You’re too good to be true, you know?” You say, sending Jake into an absolute world or happiness.

He’s never had a girl tell him that. Let alone a girl so fucking pretty.

“That still doesn’t answer the question, babe.” He finally says, ticking his tongue as if he’s being cheeky. 

“Oh, right.” You roll your eyes with a smile. “I thought I was being obvious with my answer, but I forgot that you’re kind of dumb.” You add with a smile, lifting your head to kiss against his nose. 

“I am kinda dumb, aren’t I?”

If only you knew how true that statement is. No GPA can explain why he feels so stupidly attracted and attached to you. He can’t explain it to anyone but you. 

Jay would kill him if he knew how real he wants this to be. 

“A little, yeah.” You laugh, kissing his cheek this time. 

“For you, at least.” He whispers, feeling like he’s being far more real than he should be and loving every second of it. “So, be my girlfriend.”

You roll your eyes again, lending him an even brighter laugh.

“You seriously think I wouldn’t?” 

And he just smiles, dipping down to kiss you again for the second time. 

You can’t help but feel elated by it, and the way he seems to break how eager he’s been for this. Elated by the fact that he waited, and he has done nothing but respect you as a person. 

Arguably, you don’t think you could ever refuse to be his girlfriend. With that rough fashion sense and entirely too-soft personality. It’s such a stark contrast when you think about it.

All of the cocky dirty talk, all of his boldness? It was clearly just a front that would make you like him because this is not at all what you expected. If anything, it’s a pleasant surprise that he did that for you. Showing off, trying to get your attention, then flipping on a dime when you give him the time of day. 

“You’re a lot sweeter than I thought you’d be.” You finally whisper out. “Honestly, I expected you to fuck the lights out of me and never call back the first day we met.”

Jake chuckles, trying to avoid how much that statement turns him on because on instinct he knows he shouldn’t be doing this.

“Can I be honest?” He asks against your lips, lending a small lick to the bottom one with a nod. “I really, really, wanted to.”

You pause, opening your eyes and seeing that he’s already looking at you. 

“I would have called you though.” He smiles, calming the immediate insecurity you felt about his statement.

Now though? The thought of knowing Jake wanted to fuck you since day one only drives you to like him more than you already did. 

“Oh yeah?” You smile, feeling his fingers release from yours and move right back to your hips. “Does it make me a bad person to say I would have let you?”

Jay would have called you a slut again over that. 

“No, babe.” He shakes his head with an amazed chuckle. “If that makes you a bad person, wouldn’t it make me a bad person too?”

Wow, the first man to ever speak to you as an equal. 

Jay would probably call him a slut too. 

“What about now, then?”

God, Jake really can’t resist. He’s already waited so long, and now that you’re officially his girlfriend…kind of, why should he? Jay doesn’t need to know that he’s trying to think up some way to get out of the deal. Really, Jay should be happy that you’ll be with someone who actually cares for you, right? 

After all, this whole plan was to help you. 

Why should it matter if it ends a little bit differently? All he needs to do is sit him down and talk to him. All he needs to do is not accept any more money, right? Technically, Jay isn’t the type to be that bad of a person. Like, he wouldn’t actually be mad that Jake caught feelings, right?

He’s not breaking the rules if it’s true. 

“If you can be quiet–” Jake says, leaning back and glancing around the room. “Jay was really mad about what happened in his room, I don’t want him to kick my ass thinking I came in here and railed his sister.”

You roll your eyes.

“Jay doesn’t give a shit. He probably thinks we’ve already been fucking.”

God, the dynamic between you and your step brother is so fucking weird, Jake thinks. You have such a weird view of him, and he seems to have such a weird view of you. You really think Jay doesn’t give a shit while he’s the one who seems entirely too protective of you while also being an absolute scum-bag towards you. 

“Still,” Jake pauses, pulling back entirely and sitting over you. “I’d rather your parents not walk in.”

“Then, lock the door?” You offer, eyes scanning his body and noting the way he’s always hard when he’s with you. Those tight jeans do nothing to save him the embarrassment, and part of you wonders how often he wore them on purpose. 

Plus, you can imagine he’s probably suffering after having already played with him briefly in Jay’s room. 

“Right. Doors have locks on them.” Jake dead-pans, standing up and wincing at the way his cock is entirely too obvious about what he wants to do right now. “I’ll just–” He points his thumb to your door before locking it and practically leaps back on the bed with you, laughing all the way.

And you know, the last thing Jake expected today was to share his first real touch with you, first real kiss with you, or his first time actually, like, pushing to break the rules. He’s a little nervous, seeing as how he’s maybe had sex with two girls in his entire life, but still.

He can’t possibly be bad at it, right? 

It doesn’t process in his mind how he’s absolutely breaking boundaries right now, and even if he did, he wouldn’t care. The way you laugh along with him sets his heart aflame, and the way you look at him shows him that this could be real. He could truly be your boyfriend, slowly reverting back to his normal self under the guise of a “bad boy” phase or something. 

And now, as you look at him, you note how soft he truly is despite all of those dirty words he said previously. He’s really just sitting on your bed, laughing like a boy in love and it makes you feel entirely different than how Sunghoon makes you feel.

“It’s nice, you know?” You say, glancing down when you reach out to him again, mostly to resume the position and pull him back on top of you.

“Hm?” He hums, following the pull and landing both of his hands on either side of your head, staring down at you as if he could eat straight through your chest and to your heart. “What is?”

“The fact that there’s someone here for me, I guess?” 

Ah, he’s a goner. Sorry Jay, the deal is over. 

“Do you think Sunghoon will try to get you back again?” Jake follows up. “You know I won’t let him, right? You’re my girlfriend now.” 

You smile, lifting your head a bit to kiss his plush top lip before shaking your head. 

“I’m sure he’ll try, but I don’t think I’m interested in him anymore,” You start, hearing the buzzing in the air due to the pure electric feeling in the room. “Now that I’ve met you, anyway.”

This is the point in which Jake is supposed to move back from you. This is when he’s supposed to whisper to Jay that the deal is done, and that Sunghoon is no longer an issue. This is the point that Jake absolutely shouldn’t be rolling off you, feeling your soft pillows hug around his head, and pulling you on top of him instead.

It’s like you’re meant to straddle him with how perfect you look right now.

“Oh yeah?” He smiles, losing the persona he’s supposed to have, unable to pretend like he isn’t smitten at this moment. 

“Yeah.” You say, smiling on top of him and feeling his length pulse beneath you.

You’ve wanted to get on him like this so bad, since the very first night you met him. He waited, he respected you, and now? He’s your boyfriend. He’d let you, right?

“You seem happy,” You rock back on him without warning, listening closely to the way he sighs out at the pressure you offer. “You said if I can be quiet, right?” 

He nods eagerly, unable to speak as he watches you move on him, hands reaching to brush the tufts of his dark hair out of his face. 

“Can’t make any promises, Jake–” You add, reaching down to the hem of your shirt and lifting it off of you in one motion. “What about you?”

Jake is stunned audibly. You heard his breathing hitch when your shirt blinded you from looking at him for a split second. And who could blame him? He knows he’s staring at the way your tits bounce with just the small lift of your shirt, bulging only partly over the lining of one of the cups.

 Immediately he throws one hand up, cupping one in his hand and bucking his hips upward at the ping of arousal centering itself in his body. 

“Can you be quiet?” You continue playfully, placing your hand over his and the other behind you, unclasping the bra with ease and letting it fall onto his chest. 

Jake immediately shakes his head because, no. Absolutely not. He will not be able to be quiet if any of his jerk off sessions regarding you are anything to go by. In fact, this situation could be quite telling about his lack of experience with women. This situation could be quite fucking telling to anyone outside of this room, actually.

“I thought not,” You smile, reaching down and lifting slightly to remove his ratty old t-shirt. “I don’t care if Jongseong hears anyway. He’s a weirdo, would probably be jealous.”

Jake would like to think you’re wrong about that, but something inside of him agrees with you. The way Jay reacts towards you is fucking weird and ultimately uncalled for. Then again, if Jake had to come home to a brand new sister, who is like– really hot, Jake would probably have a dilemma on his own.

Still, that’s kinda gross if it’s the case, so he tries not to think about it. 

“Let him hear then.” Jake finally says, confidence boosted solely because he is now thinking with his dick. 

His hands fall straight to your waist once you get his shirt off of him, his eyes stay glued to your tits, and all he can do is push and pull you over his length, praying that these tight jeans don’t rub him raw before he gets to pull it out. 

You can tell his body is acting on its own too, with the way he seems entirely gone for you over something so basic in terms of foreplay. After all, this is just grinding. It’s just tits. But you get it, as you stare directly at his toned body that has remained partially hidden from you until now. 

And it’s the way you’re just as shameless as he is when it gets hot and heavy. Your lips don’t leave his for the most part after that, at least until you hear his muffled moans as you’re soaking straight through your shorts and onto him. 

Both of you are kind of moaning into the kiss actually, and to you it sounds so loud, but you’re sure no one in the home has realized yet. Plus, locks. Doors have locks, so even if they did, you wouldn’t stop anyway. 

You can feel the way Jake wants to push, how he’s thinking a mile a minute in the way he kisses you. His tongue seems eager and messy, trying to kiss every part of you, trying to lick and taste your mouth in ways Sunghoon wouldn’t even do. 

Arguably, it’s sexy that he does this. So messy and dominating in the kiss despite being worse at it than he was when he came into the room. There’s something about the confidence in being bad at living life that turns you on. He could be bad at everything and you think you’d still want this with him. 

Even the way he moves you on his length is messy and not at all thought out. It’s jerky and almost frantic in the way he thrusts up out of time with your movements, like he’s chasing a consistent pressure on the whole of his cock. And like, if he wants that, maybe he should just pull it out for you. 

After all, even with the messy boy lying under you, kissing you like he’s desperate for it, you’re still wetter than you’ve ever been with another person.That’s an honest truth you can come to terms with too. Someone obviously so inexperienced? How does he make it feel better than Sunghoon’s expert hands? Fuck if you know, but you can’t help but love every second of how Jake writhes under you.

He acts like he’s never felt so good in his life, and that alone makes you feel entirely needed.

“Let me,” You say in a wet whisper against his lips, sliding your hand down between your bodies and attempting to undo his pants. “Jake, take them off.” You whine shortly after, unsuccessful with unbuttoning them on your own. 

“God, fuck, yeah, okay.” He responds frantically, out of breath. 

He lifts up, feeling you shift on his lap as you stay in place to your best ability and his eyes don’t leave yours when he undoes his own pants, blinking up with a pretty, glassy gaze and messy dark hair. 

All you can do in that moment is hug his head into your chest due to the sheer amount of endearment he gives you, brushing your fingers through his hair and halting his hands where they stay on his undone jeans. There, you grind, hiccuping what resembles a moan solely because he is genuinely just so fucking attractive. You can’t help it, you really can’t.

He’s in awe of the way you use him, hugging his face against your tits, which only allows him to attach his mouth to one of them and moan himself at what you’re doing to him. God, sign him up if this is how you fuck. Holding a person in place, grinding against them, smothering them with your pretty tits, moaning the whole time? He could give you everything. He wants to give you everything. All of him, all of the world, every shiny trinket that’s ever been made. 

Honestly? It doesn’t even matter that he couldn’t get his cock out yet, this is something he’s never had a girl do to him and it makes him feel entirely wanted. It’s an addicting feeling too, knowing that you’re chasing the feeling of what he has to offer under these restricting pants, and not being able to wait for it. 

“Babe–” Jake mumbles around your nipple, trying to fumble his pants down but being unable to, considering you’re grinding on his lap right now. “Baby, let me get it out–”

It’s kind of insane how you could have gotten off from doing this, fully clothed, fully ready to do it. But, he’s right, and that deep register of his raspy voice only drives you to pull off of him as quickly as you can.

“Mm, sorry, you’re just so,” You start, falling off of his lap and spreading your legs open to show him the wet spot on your shorts. “Shit.” You stop yourself, seeing the way he freezes upon seeing how you display yourself to him. 

“Shit.” Jake follows up the same words, not even caring how stupid he must look trying to kick these death-grip skinny jeans off of him. 

You do stifle a little chuckle at that blatant show of arousal from him, and you do him a solid by removing your shorts too, heart pounding and face warm when you see his cock spring free once he finally gets the pants down his thighs. 

Honestly, you don’t even let him take them off in full before you’re shoving him back to your pillows and smiling at the way he gives you a kind of half-drowsy smirk. You watch his eyes stare you down and you can tell he likes what he sees probably about as much as you do. 

“You look so nice in my bed,” You start, crawling over him and grabbing his hand, putting it straight between your legs. “I’ve thought about you every night.”

His eyes roll back in a glorious show of how much of a loser he truly is. A loser for you in full right now, as he feels the wettest part of you yearn for him. His fingers slip and slide so easy, and he plays with your folds in an instant. Drenching his fingers to the point that his own leaking cock wishes you’d do the same for him. 

“Me too.” He says, unable to string together a full sentence. “All night.”

You tick your tongue and coo out at him, feeling the way his fingers are gentle, staring down at the way his cock flexes every few seconds. 

“What do you think about?” You ask now, crawling over his legs and leaning down to blow against his cock. You see it twitch and stand proudly at the feeling of your warm breath hitting it. “I’ll tell you, if you tell me.”

His fingers can no longer reach the wettest part of you with the way you’ve moved on him, but he doesn’t mind considering when he looks down, you’re smiling at him with his length inches from your face. He chews against his bottom lip at the image before slipping his fingers into his mouth, tasting what could be if you’d let him. 

“Nothing as good as this.” He manages to get out from around his fingers as he stares down at you, elated by how he would never let another man experience this from you. 

You smile, nodding at the way he doesn’t lie before you lightly tap two fingers at the head of his cock, feeling the precum dribble with each tap enough that it’s almost dripping down his length. You focus on it only for a moment before you use the wet to coat his length in one long stroke. 

Another beautiful groan from him, fingers still wedged in his mouth as his eyes roll back again. Then, he’s rolling his head forward, looking down at how your hands grip him, and how your lips look so pretty when you kiss the underside of his length. God, it feels like he’s neglected himself despite jerking off every night to this exact image. Or rather, something that resembles this but could never feel as heavenly. 

And when you trail your lips down, kissing against his heavy and cum-filled sack, you feel his entire body flinch in sensitivity and a chuckled moan come from him. 

“Sorry–” he mumbles, reaching a hand down to brush against your cheek when you come back up to look at him. “No one has ever done that to m-”

“I’d do just about anything to you right now.” You cut him off, licking against the head of his cock and enveloping his entire length. 

He has no words, but so, so many thoughts. Would you really? Anything? Goddamn, he would do anything to you too. Not just right now, but any time. All you’d need to do is ask. All you’d need to do is push him down and sit on him. 

And it’s kind of cute really, how he speaks with his body alone. The way his hands grip anything he can get ahold of when you continue to take his cock further and further into your mouth. Up until the size of it is restricting your airways and he’s stuttering against the sheets with a death grip.

He could come right now if he isn’t careful, and he does his best to hold off. 

His grip stays tight against your sheets when you breathe through your nose and flex your tongue against the underside of his cock, the weight of his length making it nearly impossible to do. It’s great, actually, how he doesn’t fuck into your throat and render you unable to utilize your own skills to please him. 

The sweet, salty flavor of his precum is constant until you take him in too deep to taste it, and when you flick your eyes up, you can see that he’s amazed by how you do this. Part of you wonders if he’s ever been deepthroated at all, with the way he appears to breathe through it and tries to feel each clench of your throat.

God, your mouth is so tight around him too. So warm, tight, and perfect for him. With the way your lips stretch and your cheeks hollow out. He can’t bear to stare at you for too long when you’re doing this. Already he’s trying to hold in moans far too loud, already he knows that one right clench around him, he’s not going to last. 

And you love it. Quite literally, you are in love with the way he seems to struggle through the pleasure. So blatant and unashamed of how much he likes what you’re doing. Because honestly? Most men act like you could do more, most act as if you’ll never give the best head of their life.

Jake though? He makes you feel like you’re the only person who could render him a whimpering mess. Part of you wonders if he even knows how loud he’s already being. With his rasps and grunts, with his higher pitched sounds coming from his chest and forcing their way out of his wet and bitten lips. 

He really looks like this is where he belongs. Against your pillows, in your bed, cock out, eyes rolled back, hair cute and fluffed out against your pillows. 

You pull back slightly when your eyes threaten to become too wet to see him, easing the tension in your throat with each inch of his length that leaves you. And when you fully pull off of him with a pretty and wet little “pop!” sound, he regains all of his composure and stares right at you. 

“Holy fuck–” He says with a heaving breath. 

“Jake,” You start, clearing your throat before using your hand to gently jerk him off, lips landing against the head of his cock again as you speak. “You kind of act like a virgin, which is funny considering all of the things you said to me before.”

You smile as you say the words, precum still coating your lips.

He lends you a crooked smile, feeling entirely like himself in this moment and not at all ashamed of his lack of experience. He would think that comment would scare him, like he’s doing bad or something. But the way your hand works his cock is just enough to tell him that you love it. 

“‘M not a virgin.” He says, voice uneven. “But I can’t say I’ve fucked that many girls.”

That elates you. The fact that he’s so real about it. The idea that he held off with you for a reason that didn’t involve disinterest. It’s almost like he prefers sex to mean something, which is a long forgotten concept to you and anyone else in your life it seems. 

“That’s hot.” You comment, halting your hand at the base of his cock before releasing it entirely and crawling further up to straddle him right where you want him.

If he wasn’t already gone for you, he is now. He can feel the warmth of your pussy sit against his already sensitive and needy cock and it takes everything in him not to groan out. 

And well, he appears to have zero control of his volume because he does, in fact, groan out. 

Loud enough to probably alert the person who he wishes didn’t exist right now. 

You moan back at his desperate action, wiggling your hips as if to dig his cock into your thigh, smearing the mess seeping through your panties onto him. 

“All this time, I thought about how you could hold me down,” You start, noting how he is nothing like how you imagined he would be. “How you could fuck me hard, and deep,” You slide forward and back a little quicker now, letting the head of his cock bump your clit. “How you could ruin me if you wanted to.”

You’re the one ruining him though. You both know it. 

“It looks like I was wrong about those thoughts though, wasn’t I?” You smile at his panic when he shoots his eyes open. 

“No!” Jake half-moans, louder than he meant to once again. “I can do that.”

You wouldn’t have believed him if it weren’t for the fact that he definitely tries, lifting from your pillows and tipping you back onto your mattress. Before you even know it, your panties are off of you and he’s grabbing your legs, moving them to wrap around his waist.

Then he just stares at you with flushed cheeks and wet lips.

“I can do anything you want.” He continues, snaking his hands under your ass just to lift your lower half against the underside of his cock. “You want me to hold you down? Fuck you hard?” 

You nod, eyes sparkling up at him with a pleased sound at how he shifts who he is entirely for you. Thirty seconds ago you wouldn’t have expected him to change up like this, and it’s only lends you more to like about him. 

“Hold onto me, then.” He gives a gentle warning, wishing he could have like, ate you out first or something, but he’s too far gone now to imagine doing anything other than what you ask of him. He can get his head between your thighs another time, yes. He can lick you clean, making sure you know how much he wants you. 

And you do, you hold onto him, legs around his waist, hands in his hair, feeling the weight of his cock sit against your wet folds while his hands hold you in place.

And it’s like, woah. Okay, you already experienced how big he is but feeling it there is another thing. He’s quick to stuff your blanket up under you to keep you lifted, and then he’s immediately using one free hand to press down on your stomach, and the other holding his cock as he slides it himself through your folds.

He stares down at the way his length looks between your heat, so wet and glistening from the mix of arousal the two of you drip out. You wish you could see it too, with the way he wets his lips and keeps the bottom one caught between his teeth. 

And when you moan, his eyes flick up to your face, so innocent looking at this moment despite your kissed lips and heaving breath. Tits on full display, pussy spread out around his cock, god. He’s in heaven. He can most definitely hold you down and fuck you deep, it’s like he was born to do it, if he’s being honest. 

And then, in one movement, he pushes his cock down with his thumb and slides in, bottoming out in one motion while keeping his eyes on your face. With the way your jaw is slack, and your eyes close in pleasure. 

He does much the same, holding his breath as he feels the way your soft walls hug around him, strangling his length in a way he truly needed. You’re so tight, god, so, so, so wet. At this point, he’s not even doing it because you are asking him to, he’s doing it because he can’t help it. His body loses composure the second he bottoms out and feels the entirety of how much this pussy wants him. 

Jake doesn’t let you adjust, hell, barely even lets himself adjust before there's an echo of his thighs meeting the flesh of your ass. Consistent, deep, hard. Just like you wanted. 

Just like he needed.

And it gets to the point where Jake is burying himself so deep, that you can barely make out words. Moaning his name in hiccups, trying to say something but always stopping short of it. 

“J-Ja-J.” You hiccup through each thrust, waiting for him to kiss you, wanting him to kiss you, wanting him to ruin you like you asked, like he promised.

And when Jake is out of breath, listening to that pretty little stuttered mantra of his name, he does lean down to kiss you. Tongue immediately licking against yours to the point that he swears he feels little dribbles of desperate saliva leave the corners of his mouth.

All of it is hot breath, wet, wet, fucking wet. All over. 

His hips move faster, and he drives his cock in deeper, his moans only come out louder with each stutter of his name, and honestly? The death grip your legs have on him, keeping him from pulling out of you too far? He has no idea how he’s lasted this long already, but he loves himself a little more knowing that he’s making you feel good. 

“Yeah,” He grunts out, pulling one hand back to hold your leg tightly against him, and the other falling on his elbow above your head. He makes direct eye contact with you here, just inches from your face as he speaks with full confidence. “Say my name,” He says almost defiantly. Hoping Jay hears it and knows how good he can be for you. “I’ve been dying to hear you say it like this.” 

His thrusts somehow remain consistent as you shoot your hand to your clit, rubbing harshly at his words. You give him exactly what he wants, moaning his name in full against his lips with a desperate and bitten kiss from you, all while your pussy practically strangles the base of his cock with each deep thrust. 

His moan sounds relieved when you repeat his name, he swallows your hiccups up, proud that despite how fucking bad he probably is at fucking, you seem to love it. 

And when you rub against your clit just right, feeling his abdomen press your fingers against it harder, you continue his name. 

Breathing it out in a gasp before your orgasm hits you and he somehow manages to fuck you straight through it. His stuttered name coming out with each slam, never quite able to moan it in full again once you’re seeing stars. 

And when your ears pop, and your eyes feel tired, you look at him.

You feel him.

His cock moving desperately in and out of you, the sweat on his brow proving to you how much he wanted to do this to you and for you. 

He wants it so bad.

He wants you so bad. 

You reach up, feeling the sweat in his hairline when you run your fingers through the mess of hair on his head and push his face down. Your legs fall from around him, and instantly he’s moaning. 

“You don’t need to pull out.”

“Fuck–” He stutters, hips meeting your thighs once more before you feel him release strings of thick cum in you. Amazed by that single sentence, half-not even realizing a condom was nowhere in sight anyway. He doesn’t know if he could have pulled out to begin with but the words of encouragement shoot his orgasm straight through him. 

And the way he moans through it with uneven breaths? Perfect. He sounds perfect. The way saliva dribbles from the sides of his mouth as his lips desperately kiss against your neck and shoulders? More perfect. 

The way he pulls back to look at you after the fact? Twitching inside of you, unmoving, and not pulling out? God.

The two of you lay like this for a while, his cum bubbling out of you from around his sensitive and softened length by the time he finally decides to pull out. Which saddens him a little bit because he hates that he can’t have his cock in you at all times, but still.

And then the panic washes over him. There’s no fucking way Jay doesn’t know what he just did, and the fact that there were no harsh knocks on your door? That’s even more scary. 

His heart rate picks up instantly, but you somehow calm him as you continue running your hands through his hair, down to the back of his neck and scratching.

It’s like he mewls at the feeling, nuzzling against you as close as he can get before sighing. 

“Jay is going to kill me.” He mumbles against your skin with closed eyes. 

You hum out a small chuckle, feeling the sticky mess between your legs and somehow not feeling as grossed out as you normally would by this. 

“Jongseong isn’t going to do shit.” You smile, shifting to sit up and feeling more cum drip out of you. “I actually can’t wait to see the look on his face when I drag you to shower with me.”

Jake panics internally but he can’t stop himself from smiling at you with a nod. 

And he does follow you into the bathroom. Straight past the bedroom of his glaring best friend with the wide open door. 

He pretends to not hear the way the door slams when the two of you get into the bathroom, and desperately begins thinking of a way to make this work out for the better. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jay heard all of it. Every slap of a cock driving into you, every breath, moan, giggle, and every fucking dirty word the two of you shared.

He tries not to think of the way he slouched against his bedroom door, straining his ears to hear all of it too. He tries not to think of how his hand could never live up to whatever the fuck you were doing to Jake either. 

Time and time again he could get off to the thought of you, but each time it just becomes more and more unbearable to see you face to face after. This time? Having to hear you with someone else? Someone that he, himself, was supposed to trust? It’s the most unbearable, and it hurts him inside to know that you liked it. 

It isn’t fair that he was stuck, alone against his door, biting back moans of a situation he hated more than anything. His best friend was in there fucking the daylights out of the only girl Jay has ever wanted like this, and all he could do was fuck his fist and release a half-sobbed moan in his own silence over it?

Honestly, the orgasm hit him harder than he’s ever felt when he heard you moaning the name of his best friend. The stuttered breaths of Jake’s unfinished name sounded just like his name, and his brain went insane wondering if that’s what you’d sound like if his cock was pounding you. 

Would you stutter like that for him? Would you moan out his name in such a pretty way too? 

“Jay! Jay! Jay!” 

It replayed in his mind over and over again up until he saw the two of you in the hallway. Jake appeared to be ashamed to look at him, avoiding his gaze. 

Jay felt pathetic, angry, and entirely empty. Jake fucked up big time, betraying his trust just minutes after promising the opposite. There is so much shame within him right now, but none of it lives up to the fucking rage he feels towards Jake.

Never in his life has he ever felt so betrayed by not one person, but two. As if you knew you had such a hold on him to betray him at all, but still. It pisses him off more than anything that he still has to hear the two of you in the bathroom now, unashamed of what just happened behind your closed bedroom door like your parents aren’t just downstairs and probably aware of what their slut child was doing. 

He seethes for what feels like hours. All the way until Jake slinks out of your room after the parents went to bed, and into the night without a word to him. 

Days, even. As the sounds of you fucking Jake haunts him. 

What’s worse? Jake ignores his texts even when he’s being nice. Inviting him over for a “lesson”, begging him to come talk, saying he isn’t angry he just wants to know where the deal stands. He ignores him even on his payday, which arguably, Jay wasn’t going to pay him this time but as a bribe to get him to talk to him? Of course he texted him again.

And with the way you’re leaving every other night, Jay can tell it’s because you’re going to see him outside of his control. Likely because Jake suggested it, and no part of him feels thankful that he can’t hear what the two of you are up to behind his back.

He could rip his hair out at this point, when each family dinner feels empty and filled with disgust. Looking at you and wondering what it must have felt like for Jake to get between those thighs that seem to open for just any man that would lie to you. You eat quietly, sometimes shooting him a happy smile as if you can’t tell that he’s rotting in front of you over the fact that you’re happy with someone that isn’t him.

He can barely look at you when you’re home without the thoughts flooding his brain, rendering him jealous and resentful of everyone in his life whether they’re involved in this situation or not. He doesn’t hold back remarks each time you come back home either, bright eyes with a sex glow surrounding you.

“Out spreading your legs again, I take it?” or  “Can never get fucked enough, can you?”

He says them proudly to you, as if it’s any indication that he likes you far more than Jake ever could. But, to his dismay, you look happier and brush him off without a single furrowed brow or argument. You’ve been nicer, and you even walk with better posture now. 

He wishes you would argue with him about how untrue his words are, but you don’t. Which renders him only further angry because you don’t deny it, and that you agree with him. The issue is that Jake is on the receiving end of why those words are true.

Jay only wants them to be true if he is on the receiving end.

He wants you to spread your legs every other day for him. He wants you to never be fucked enough….by him. Not by Sunghoon. Not by fucking Jake.

And then? Three long and agonizing days after Jake’s payday, he finally texts.

Jake: we need to talk. 

Jay: come over then

Jake: no, i’m not coming back to your house until we talk. 

Jay: yours then?

Jake: yeah

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Things were instantly awkward for Jay when he stepped through Jake’s door. It’s like he could tell you’ve been here recently by the feeling in the room alone. You always leave a room so alluring, so stupidly bright. 

Jake even appears happier, much like you do when he manages to take note of how you act back at home. 

Still, Jay doesn’t come too far into the house out of fear he may very well end up breaking things if it comes down to it. Instead, he stands in the doorway, shoes still tied on his feet, eyes still heavy with an exhaustion that only he can explain. 

“I know you know what’s been going on,” Jake starts, raising his hands in defense as if to try and save both his friendship and new relationship. “I want you to know that I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, but it did, and I want to at least tell you that I’d treat her right.”

Jay stares forward, feeling his imaginary monarchy fall. His gaze goes straight through Jake and to the room behind him as he listens to him say words that any sibling would love to hear. All he can feel right now is buzzing, goosebumps on his skin threatening his sanity over the fact that he's always gotten everything he ever wanted, except for you. 

And he didn’t even want you like this until he knew he couldn’t have you.

“You promised me.” Jay starts with a harsh tone in his voice. “You went straight into her room and started fucking her? And now you have the audacity to ask me if you can date her?!” He bites out with angry brows, now clenching his fists.

Jake should have known better than to think he would be reasonable about this, given how he’s acted throughout the entire situation. Still, he’ll never stop thinking how fucking weird it is. How Jay is entirely protective over you despite consistently making sexual remarks, staring for a little too long, paying a stranger to date you just so you get away from your ex boyfriend. 

For all Jake knows, if it wasn’t for you confirming the situation, he could argue Jay would have made up lies about Sunghoon being a bad boyfriend too. 

Jay is jealous and Jake fucking sees it. 

“You literally paid me to date her. So what if I actually want to be with her now? Why is that such a bad thing?!” Jake retorts, throwing his hands up as if everything Jay is saying doesn’t make any sense to a normal person.

Which is true.

“I paid you to pretend, not to actually want her!” Jay raises his voice again, despite being in Jake’s home, despite being his long time childhood friend. Over all, trying to appear more threatening as a means to regain his control. 

“I don’t understand why you’re not okay with this.” Jake starts, much calmer than Jay. “What? You're gonna keep her from dating anyone ever again?”

Jay stands down at those words, knowing that if he could he would. Knowing that it must be incredibly telling to Jake, who isn’t as stupid as he acts.

“Why? You’re mad because you can’t be with her? And if you can’t, then no one can?” Jake adds with a smile. 

Immediately Jay storms up to him, fisting Jake’s shirt collar in his hand. 

“You think I want to be with trash like her?” He seethes out in a hot whisper, body telling on him in the way his words don’t match the defensive stance he takes. “I just don’t want you fucking my sister.”

“The deal is off, Jay.” Jake says in an even calmer tone, almost smiling. “Besides, I already fucked her.”

Jay intensely stares at him, anticipating the next word Jake says ending in a swift punch to the jaw.

“Multiple times.”

That breaks him. 

What he thought would end in a physical altercation appears to be ending in his own begging. His own self-pity at how sad he is for himself over this overtakes every thought in his head. He is desperate to get you, and desperate to make sure Jake leaves and never comes back.

“I’ll pay you double what i’ve already paid to break up with her.” He bribes. “Triple.”

“You can’t just keep her, she doesn’t want you.” Jake continues, pressing all of the buttons of a friend he used to trust with his life. “She doesn’t even like you.” 

Jay stands there, releasing the grip on Jake’s shirt and taking a step back. He knows Jake is right, and he hasn’t done anything to make you like him either, but still. Why does everyone else get parts of you that he can’t have? 

“Jake, you’re misunderstanding.” He tries to reply in a calmer voice. “I’ve known her since freshman year and I’ve watched her get hurt. I don’t want anyone around her.”

Jake laughs at him. And honestly? It shocks Jay with the way his friend has changed in just a matter of weeks. It’s the fact that it’s his fault. 

“You’re fucking weird, dude.” Jake continues to laugh. “You know me better than anyone and you don’t even want her to be with me? Of all people?”

Jay listens, trying to ignore how his truth has to come about another way. If Jake wants a fight over you, so be it.

“Sunghoon? Yeah, I get it but, the fact that you won’t even let me be with her? When is it what she wants?” 

“Break up with her, this is my final warning.” Jay dead-pans.

“Or what?”

Jay stands there, directly in front of a friend he just threw away over a girl. Staring at him with such immense hate in his eyes that even Jake feels a shiver run down his spine.

He says nothing when he shoves past Jake and walks straight out the front door, only speaking before closing it with a “You have a week to break it off.”

Jake rolls his eyes at the words, shrugging at the situation despite knowing the sadness of losing a friend will hit sooner or later. Really though? Deep down, Jake knew that Jay had a thing for you after the way he’s been acting. 

And it’s like, Jake knew he was bad at talking to girls but at least he doesn’t call them sluts and whores, or make them think he would rather be run over by a fucking tank than to say anything nice to them. 

What’s worse is that he gets it. You’re entirely likable, lovable even, and it’s going to take a lot more than a couple of threats to pull Jake away from you. Likewise for Jay it seems. Step-siblings aside, there’s no way Jay didn’t have a crush on you before you became his step sister. Anyone would have a crush on you.

Still. That’s weird, and there’s nothing Jay can do to have you. With or without Jake, you’d never want him after the way he spoke to you. You’d never fuck family, nor would you ever be interested in a guy like him anyway.

At least with Jake’s false persona, he acted more like his true self than he meant to when he was around you. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A week goes by and there is no word of Jake ending it with you. 

In fact, you’re still leaving every other night to see him, coming home with a little bounce in your step and a stupid fucking smile on your face. Jay can’t stand it anymore. 

He thought a week was him being nice. Giving Jake, who he still cares about, mind you, enough time to come to terms that this will never work if Jay is around. Once again though, Jake didn’t listen. The once lost and intelligent guy now appears to know exactly what he wants in life and it’s so fucked up to Jay that it just so happens to be his girl. 

A girl that isn’t really even his, and the only ownership he has over you is a title that makes him want to gag.

Step-sister.

Jay has come to terms by now that he is willing to end his longest friendship over you. He is willing to defy his own moral standards for you. He is willing to love you, touch you, and be anything you need. The only issue is the fact that he’s already fucked it up for himself.

Jake was right in saying you don’t even like him. Not as a friend, not as a step-brother, and certainly not as a boyfriend. It truly is his own fault too, but things can change. 

And they will change. 

“Why do you act like Jake is the best thing that’s ever happened to you?” Jay asks, leaning against the frame of your bedroom door with his arms crossed. 

“Oh, am I?” You look down shyly, smiling because you can’t stop. “I guess I didn’t notice.”

Jay lends a short nod and a smile to himself, feeling more and more calm as the seconds pass and he steps into your room. 

You, on the other hand, are elated tonight solely because of the date Jake took you on just the day before. He was so sweet, and so nice. Even going as far as eating you out in his car simply because he couldn’t resist, and missed you too much in the twenty four hour span of not seeing you previously. 

You wish you could talk about it with Jay, you wish you could thank him for bringing Jake into your life and let whatever fucked-up relationship you have with him die so that it can be replaced with something more pleasant. 

“Thank you, by the way.” You say meekly as he enters and wanders around your room, staring at several of Jake’s shirts hanging in your closet. 

“Hm?” Jay responds off handedly, reaching into the closet to feel one of your soft t-shirts. 

“Thank you for letting me meet Jake. I was shocked that day you invited me to eat with you guys, so I assumed it was to help with the whole Sunghoon situation. It did help, you know?” You smile fondly, thinking of your boyfriend and how nice he looks when he’s holding your hand.

“Ah–” Jay turns to look at you, letting one of your soft shirts fall from a hanger so that he can run his fingers through his hair with a stressed look up at your ceiling. 

You watch as he takes in a deep sigh before hanging his head.

“Listen, I have something to tell you about Jake.” He finally says, walking to your door and closing it before sitting on your bed and looking at you with a serious expression. 

“What is it?” You tilt your head at him.

He watches your face of confusion, seeing how heavy the feelings are that you’ve managed to grow for a man you were never meant to have feelings for. The way you swallow around a lump in your throat shows him that you’re going to listen to him, and possibly believe him.

For the first time, Jay isn’t going to be lying to you about Jake either.

“Jake is only dating you for the money I give to him every month.” Jay admits, knowing you’re about to bombard him with questions as to why he’s paying Jake to do it. 

“What?” You question again, dead-pan staring at him.

“I paid him to date you because I trusted him not to be like Sunghoon, and you seemed really hurt by what happened.”

“What?!” You echo yourself, furrowing your brows at Jay and the way it’s the first time he’s ever looked at you in such a soft way. “How much?!” 

“Two hundred a month. I dropped off his last payment last Sunday.” He lies.

You pause, reminding yourself that just the Saturday before he was holding you close to him on his couch, telling you all sorts of nice things that made your heart double in size. 

“He only learned to play guitar because we thought it would be your type. Jake is more of a loser than I am. If you had met him just a day earlier, you wouldn’t have looked at him twice.”

You remain silent, listening to all of this fucked up information.

“Here pretty soon, he’s supposed to break up with you.” 

And now your face is hot, and your eyes are burning. All of those words Jake said to you felt entirely genuine. The way he kissed you, touched you, and even the way he looked at you felt so real and electrifying. 

There’s a part of you that doesn’t believe a word Jay is saying, but there’s also a part of you that wonders how much of it is true. You’ve seen Jake’s room and his selection of monotone and earth tone clothing that you’ve never seen him wear before. 

“I don’t believe you.” You say, crossing your arms, looking away from Jay, then sniffling. “It would be so fucked up if you really paid some guy to pretend he liked me.” 

Jay shakes his head in mock sadness for you.

“I set rules, you know? He wasn’t supposed to let it get so bad. He wasn’t supposed to sleep with you or even kiss you, I know that he did though.” Jay says, reaching a hand out to yours. “I keep seeing how happy you look and can’t stand that he’s doing this to you. I just wanted to help.”

You blink up at Jay. 

“Why did you care so much to help me get over Sunghoon? So much that you’d pay Jake to do this?”

“Because I didn’t want to see you be taken advantage of. I see that it was a bad idea now though, because Jake definitely took advantage of you when he could.” He looks down, still in mock sorrow for you. “I wanted to punch him so bad when I paid him last time, with his stupid shit eating grin like he’s won the lottery or something.”

“Do you–” You pause, trying to process the information. “have proof?”

Jay nods, pulling up the few text messages he and Jake have sent about the situation. 

Jay: do you think she fell for it? you completely changed vibes bro

Jake: yeah for sure i got a date tomorrow with her

Jay: if i knew it would be this easy i wouldn’t be paying you so much

Jake: money AND a girl? best deal ever.

Right then and there, upon reading those texts, the crying really does start. You question your ability to read feelings, body language, and words. You really thought Jake meant everything he said, and over all you’re just learning that…well, he’s a great liar.

“I know what I did was wrong, but I’m trying to make it right.” Jay soothes, scooting closer to you and hugging you against his chest. “I’m here whether you’re mad at me or not.”

You shove him away from you initially, but he uses his strength against you to hold you against him tightly. It’s the first time Jay has ever hugged you, the first time he’s ever comforted you while simultaneously being the cause of your shattered heart right now. 

“Why are you like this?” You ask in a truly pathetic voice, raspy and full of overwhelming emotion that you don’t know what to do with. “Why did you have to do that?” 

Jay takes in a deep breath, readying himself for whatever reaction you could possibly give to his next, very carefully thought out words. 

“Because I’ve liked you since freshman year, and now you’re my sister.” He says in a sweet whisper against the top of your head. “Because you never noticed me before, and you barely do now, but I wanted to help your situation somehow without making it weird.”

He feels you cry harder against him now, your hands gripping his shirt without intention as you try and work through the even bigger flood of information now. It’s true that you didn’t notice Jay too much, and he never indicated any type of feeling for you. He could have been your type, if he had made an attempt to get to know you, but he never did. He became your step-brother instead. One who would do nothing but ridicule you and pay men to fuck you, apparently. 

And as you cry, all you can do is raise that same gripping hand and land it harshly against his chest in a punch that feels weak to him. Over and over again, and he just takes it. Sitting there hugging you against him in a way that keeps your abuse weak and pathetic as you release the emotion on him. 

“I would have been able to do more for you if it wasn’t for Jake taking advantage of my own weakness.” Jay now says, trying to land the final nail in Jake’s coffin for you. “In some way, I think I would have made you happier.”

Your attempts to hit the anger out of you fall short with each passing moment as your fingers find purchase back in his shirt, and the feeling of being enveloped by an apology overtakes you in full.

You can taste your tears against his shirt, feeling sorry for yourself for dampening him like this. Feeling sorry that he likes you and knowing you don’t like him back. Feeling sorry that the only person you’ve ever felt strongly for like this, never felt a thing back for you. 

You’re worth two hundred dollars to both of them. 

And when you pull back, feeling Jay allow you to pull away, you just stare at him with an empty and broken expression. 

Jay can’t help but think you look even prettier with a broken heart. Mostly because he knows he’s the only person here who can fix it for you. He knows exactly what’s going through his mind when he leans forward and kisses you without hesitation. 

You are shocked by the action, feeling unfamiliar lips on yours for just a moment before you’re shoving him back with a grimace.

“What the fuck?!” You yelp, baffled and entirely disgusted. 

Jay says nothing as he stares at you as if he’s lost his mind. His mouth is slack when he looks at you and it’s a face that very nearly scares you. Especially when he takes your face in both of his hands and does it again.

A harsher kiss, with him holding you there against his lips, running his hands down to keep your body from pushing him away again. 

“Let me make it better.” He pleads in a desperate whisper between his forced kisses. “Just this once.”

You’re not sure what’s happening right now, as you sit stiffly in his grasp, feeling him plead and kiss against you like a mad man. Wondering why you’re not fighting after hearing his broken voice. Wondering if he feels just as broken as you do right now. 

This is your sibling by marriage, trying to give you something that he should not be giving you. Indulging you in truth, too much truth. And maybe you’re going a little crazy too, because you just let him.

And you let him, and let him, until he’s releasing his grip on your body forcing you to stay close to him, and gently caressing your face through his one sided kisses. 

“Please.” He whispers just against your lips, pulling back a few inches to look at you. 

And when you look at him this time, it feels raw. That’s the only way you can describe this situation of immense loss inside of you. Forced away from someone while being totally suffocated by another who only seemed to want to hurt you before all of this. 

“Jongseong, no.” You warn, not entirely understanding why you don’t fully agree with your own words right now.

Maybe it’s because you want to be wanted, or needed, or loved at this moment. 

“Don’t call me that.” He whispers, leaning forward again, kissing you on the corner of your mouth. “Why won’t you let me try?” 

You take in a deep breath, wondering the same thing.

Because he’s your brother?

Because he paid Jake to break you more than Sunghoon ever has?

Because you want to let him try, solely to numb yourself from everything else for the night?

“I–” You start, staring forward and straight through him. “I don’t know.”

He smiles, spreading his legs wide beside you to adjust himself solely because he got to feel your lips on his. His hands stay against your face as he looks at you through this, and notes only slightly the way you reach your hands up to grip his biceps. 

“You don’t?” He asks. “Why do you throw yourself at everyone but me then?”

Those are words that should hurt you more than he already has, but they don’t. He’s not wrong. If you were more careful of the people you lend your body to for pleasure, maybe you wouldn’t continue to get hurt. Maybe everything he’s done really has taught you how to pick and choose better people.

Sunghoon, Jake, and now him. 

Now him.

It feels so final, like a last hurrah of hating yourself before you decide to never let another man into your heart again. You won’t date Jay, you won’t even think of him as someone you could be with solely due to the circumstances.

But for some reason, there is something you will do and that happens to be living up to all of those insults he threw at you before. Dumb, whore, slut. 

And you’ll do those things solely to make yourself feel better right now. Sex isn’t healing but when a person appears to want you this badly, it kind of is in its own way. A reminder that at least you’re wanted on some level, especially when you’re running circles in your head over what it could be that you keep doing wrong. 

This time, Jay is shocked when you’re the one who leans forward, your hands falling from his biceps straight to his hands over your face. You cry when you kiss him, feeling utterly insane that you’re doing this, not knowing why you’re going to keep pushing, and absolutely ignoring that you’ll regret it. 

“If you want to fuck me so bad, just do it then.” You say, more as an insult to him, yourself, and the entire situation. 

What’s worse is, you said that so Jay would pull back and come back to his senses. Anyone who hears those words should know that it’s an all or nothing question. Any decent person, any selfless person would deny fucking you in this state. 

And while you want him to fuck you at this point, just to prove how badly he’s wanted to, you equally wanted him to just be here for you in the way he was supposed to.

Jay doesn’t pick up on the cue though, and instead jumps right in. Kissing you back and pulling you down with him against your mattress. 

The bed feels less pretty with Jay lying in it with you, but his lips work better than Jake’s did the first time he kissed you so messily. You don’t mind only because you don’t care about a single outcome at this point. 

Everything bad that could happen to you has already happened. 

Jay wants you to like it though. He wants you to like everything about him. Even the aspects about himself that he can’t stand. And he kisses you in a way to try and force this outcome. 

Jake is still in the front of his mind though, as he takes his girl back on the same bed where Jake presumably took you away to begin with. 

And you’re so pretty too, with your tear stained cheeks kissing him in an angry way. Jay couldn’t be happier that you’ll take this out on him. He deserves it, doesn’t he? To be hated? Hated enough to be kissed by you? It’s wonderful, really. 

He stays like this with you for as long as he can, the fear of it stopping fizzling out with each passing minute that you only kiss harder, harder, harder. Up until he can’t stand the feeling of his cock in his pants, up until he can’t help but feel you up, relishing in your hot skin and the way you still shiver probably through the chill in your heart right now. 

His hand lands under your shirt, pulling your bra down just so he can eagerly circle his fingers around one of your nipples. Thinking so hard about the tits he’s wanted to see bare for so long, feeling it perk up against his finger in reaction. 

He throbs at it, even if you won’t make eye contact with him between kisses. Even if you kiss him like you mean it but clearly don’t. He’s taking what he can get, taking what you’ll give to him. 

“I heard you guys, you know.” Jay says, pinching your nipple before rolling on top of you just to dig his length against your leg. “You seemed so happy to gag on him, why aren’t you like that for me?”

You ignore his words, trying not to moan at the thickness you feel in his pants. Never once have you thought about what Jay could be packing, but it’s…bigger than you probably would have expected. Feeling it against you breaks that final barrier in your brain keeping you from being entirely turned on by the lack of morals you’re sharing with him.

This is the first thing you’ve ever shared with Jay outside of an argument. 

“Can you stop talking?” You ask in a huff, breath hitching when he adjusts his hips between your legs and rubs himself against the center of your heat. “It’s pissing me off.”

“Mm, I bet.” He smiles, using both hands to push your shirt and bra up to your collarbones, revealing your chest to him. He grabs both of them without hesitation, and studies the way they fit in his hand. “I’m trying to fix this right now though.” He nods to himself, smirking the same smirk he always gives you when he’s being an asshole and squeezing the tit that rests above your heart. 

You’re angry that you like it. You enjoy the way he grips tighter, and ruts himself harsher against you. Almost more desperately than Jake did. Rougher, so much rougher. 

“You can’t fix what’s happened.” You groan out, annoyed and equally as aroused. “So, stop trying.”

“Getting you wet can fix it.” He says, leaning back and placing both hands on your knees, spreading your legs wide. He stares at you and the dismay on your face, then down between your legs. It doesn’t take much convincing from him though, to have you bucking your hips up against your own will. 

You never knew Jay could be so confident or dirty. 

And when he backs up just to take off your bottoms in one swift motion, you don’t even hide your face. Because you don’t care what you look like right now, or what he sees. You’re already past the boundary and at this point your body wants what it wants. 

Quite frankly, you hope he fucks the morals right out of you. You hope he fucks the emotion out of you, and renders you a shell of a person that can no longer feel pain in any capacity. 

“Well, well, well.” Jay gloats as he gets back between your legs, noting how you’re already wet. Not entirely wet, but definitely turned on. “Can’t believe you’re wet for your own brother.” 

You roll your eyes, wishing he’d stop focusing on that. You’re barely related. Just by marriage, anyway. 

“Stop talking.” You argue. 

And, well, for the first time he listens to you. 

If you knew you could shut him up by putting a pussy in his mouth, perhaps you would have done this sooner. Then again, you likely wouldn’t have considered it before now. 

Anything he could say to you right now is muffled, and all you can hear are groans and grunts each time he tries to lick straight into you. Through you almost. His tongue is just as harsh as everything else, neglecting your clit and going straight for what he wants in his mouth. 

He licks and laps at you without shame, knees planted on the floor and fingers spreading you open against his lips. His eyes stay open though, staring up at you, only blinking slowly when he gets a taste of something particularly sweet. 

You try not to reach down like you always seem to do for Jake. You really do try, but it’s like an instinct thing, you guess. You find your fingers in his hair, gripping the strands much harsher than you usually would this time. 

If he’s rough, you can be rough too, right? 

You drag him up by his hair, listening to his shameless moan of pleasure at how you treat him. You plant his face directly against your clit, and he’s just as harsh with his tongue against it. Flicking it, swirling his tongue around it, side to side, up and down, before he circles his lips around it and sucks with another one of his embarrassingly sexy moans. 

Something about him liking this to the full extent is so good. It’s so wrong, but it’s so, so, fucking good. 

And as you hold him there, his fingers slide into you as if he knows exactly how to do it. You’re shocked that he does, actually. With someone so invisible to the world to anyone but himself, he must have gotten plenty of practice in with all of the snooty book-smart girls back on campus. 

You hate to admit that they’re kind of lucky. Jay is clean with it. Goes straight for the pleasure spots and doesn’t fuck around at all. Sunghoon was always messy with his fingers, smiling and playing with you and the way you’d whine for him to hit a particular spot again. Jake, on the other hand, would never know where to land his fingers, but he’d find it and keep hitting it when you’d make that one specific sound. 

Jay knows where it is, and he knows he does. 

You know he does.

To the point that you can’t help the moans that fall from your lips. Almost as shameless as he is, avoiding the fact that you do like this. You do like the entire situation that surrounds it. After all, you’d never get fucked like this is it wasn’t from Jay, right? If he didn’t go off and set you up for failure first, right? 

Fuck Jay.

Quite literally. Fuck him for being so good at ruining everyone. 

“I hate you.” You whisper between moans, already feeling the tears bubble up again. You hate him so much, and you hate everything about how he really could have been something had he tried before. 

You hate that it feels so good.

You hate that he chuckles at your words, vibrating his voice against your clit and making you shiver.

You can’t stand that he can fit three fingers into you with ease, proving how wet you are for him. 

And even more do you hate the way he pulls back, staring up at you as he quickens his fingers, hitting that same spot, over and over again with a filthy smirk on his glistening lips. 

“Hate me all you want,” He says in a smooth voice, listening to the sounds of how wet you are gushing out and against his palm. “You seem to love what I can do for you.”

You groan out again, from deep in your chest as you try to close your legs around him, as if to push him out of you but you can feel the way he easily keeps one of your legs spread out and open, preventing the act. 

And as he listens to the sounds of your body, it all clicks in his head. It’s no wonder Jake wanted to be with you so bad. The taste of you, the smell, the sounds your body emits to be fucked? He wouldn’t let anyone take you from him. Sunghoon too, no wonder he kept coming back. That girl he always fucks during the summers surely doesn’t stand a chance against you. 

No one could look so sweet and sound so arousing like this but you. Not a single other person in this world could have his cock straining against his pants like this over the act of giving head. If anything, Jay hates giving head. But you’re clean.

You taste sweet. 

He could eat you out for days. 

“God, just fucking look at you.” He groans to himself when he stares at his three fingers plunging into you, hitting that same spot since he started. 

He can feel the squeeze of your pussy around his fingers each time he drives them in deep, pushing them together. And you only squeeze more and more as he does it. He knows exactly what this means. 

“Already?” He asks snidely. “Just from my fingers?”

You stay silent only because you couldn’t speak if you wanted to. Never has a man assaulted your g-spot so well before, and you’ve felt it building up this entire time. Your whole body feels weak, your eyes feel fogged over, your brain is going numb as you relish in the pleasure rather than the reality just outside of it. 

“Fuck, Jay.” You manage to get out, not even shocked that you just said his name in regards to this situation.

Nothing shocks you anymore.

And it’s like music to his ears to hear you sing his name in pleasure. It’s not a stutter of Jake’s name this time. It’s really his name, and he feels so fucking elated by it. He fucks his fingers in faster through the eagerness of hearing you willingly say that to him. He even dips down, his shoulders keeping your legs open just so he can lick around the same hole his fingers are stretching out, and right there is where he wills for you to come.

He wants to feel it drip against his tongue, he wants his fingers and face to be fucking soaked in you and all of that hate you claim you have for him. 

It’s not a shocker to him that you do, either. He knows how to touch a pussy, you’re not a puzzle for him. But at least your cum is sweeter than he’s ever tasted. He laps it up like a fucking dog, moaning through it as you hold your breath. Your legs shake, your cunt clenches, your clit throbs, and he’s the reason for all of it. 

He works you through it so well, to the point that you’re out of breath and looking at him as if he is your boyfriend. Only now do you wish that your mother didn’t have to go off and marry his dad. You could have easily dated this asshole just for the way he gives head and uses his fingers alone.

Yeah, maybe you are a slut. 

“Mm, I heard that.” He coos out, licking up the last of your orgasm before lifting and resting his head just below your belly button. “You moaned my name.” 

You’ve never seen him smile like this. His eyes have never looked so bright before. You’re mad that he looks attractive between your legs, with his lips dripping in your own arousal. You hate that you like it. 

“I did.” You say, leaving no room for him to respond. 

After all, he probably said that just to try and get a rise out of you. 

“You’re going to do it again, you know.” He responds anyway, now standing and reaching for the button on his pants. “And again.” 

You watch him, not wanting to believe that you’ll be moaning his name again tonight. Thinking that this is the end of it, though you should have known better. He’s going all the way. 

“Roll over.” He says now, almost demanding in a way that makes you immediately follow the direction.

You roll over perfectly for him, presenting an already fucked and pulsing hole for him to rub up and against. He actually has to blink up at the ceiling with a deep breath before really getting a good look at this angle. 

A perfect ass, perfect cunt, all wet and willing for him of all people. You’re right where you belong at this moment. Against your bed, with his cock out and ready to fuck you until you forget Jake ever existed. 

“Damn.” He comments, thumbing at your pussy lips and gripping himself with the other hand. “Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror like this?”

That’s a weird question, but yeah. 

Still, you don’t nod or answer. You just stuff your face into the very same pillow that Jake laid against the day you straddled him. If you breathe in hard enough, you can almost smell him on it. 

“I’m sure you have.” Jay answers for himself, now spreading your cheeks and getting a good look at both holes. 

Then, he leans forward, takes off his shirt, and slaps his cock against your swollen lips. Over and over again, watching the strings of your previous orgasm connect him to you. He pushes, and pushes, rubbing it between your lips and relishing in the image of his cock against you.

Where it fucking belongs.

And then he’s releasing a string of saliva, letting it drop directly onto the head of his length before he pushes the tip in. 

God, he’s thick. Just the head alone feels so much bigger than you’ve had before and it’s a bit unfamiliar. Because, of fucking course it is. 

Still, he stays like that. Pushing his tip in, out, in, out. 

Over and over again, giving you small sighs from his throat at the feeling until you can’t fucking stand it anymore.

You’re the one who pushes back, slipping another inch of him into your tight and wet walls, gripping your sheets much the same way Jake did when you went down on him.

“Fuuuuck,” Jay moans out slowly, using both hands to spread your cheeks and get a good look at the way you’re the one who wants more. “Didn’t expect you to be this tight, baby.”

You ignore his words, knowing they’re more insulting than you need to hear right now. 

And then, you feel his hand move to the small of your back and push a perfect arch out of you, his other hand pushing forward to grip your tit. He slides all the way in this time, bottoming out before staying in place just to feel you adjust around him.

“Let me feel how tight you really are then,” He smiles from behind you, finger flicking your nipple and flexing his cock inside of you. “Squeeze it.” 

You clench on demand, not because he asked for it, but because the feeling of his fingers on your nipple forces you to do it. It’s a slight pleasure that always shoots straight to your pussy and you can’t fucking help the moan. You’ve always been weak to have your nipples played with, and Jake really indulges you in that. Jay is doing the same without even fucking knowing what it does to you. 

“Goddamn, I just know they’ll miss you.” Jay breaks out in a moan, boasting about having his cock in you and feeling the way your perfect cunt jerks it off for him. “Wouldn’t let anyone fuck this pussy again,” He continues to ramble to you, spilling out his filthy desires. “My pretty slut of a sister, giving it to me like this?”

You gasp when he finally moves, pulling out nearly all the way before stuffing you full again.

“Finally letting me see what all the hype was about?” He degrades, keeping his pace slow just to hear you give into his words with each moan. “I’ll give it to you, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You nod against your will, never realizing that maybe you like being called these names. Jay, once so quiet and stoic, now talking to you in a way you never could have imagined. You don’t know why it’s so hot. You won’t think too hard into it, nor will you ever bring this shit up again either. 

“Wouldn’t you?” He repeats, leaning down against your ear. “I’ll be the one to fuck you the way you need, won’t I?”

His hips pick up at that point, driving those long and languid strokes into you at a quicker pace, with so much ease and confidence that you almost find it hard to think he’s lying. Maybe the only person you shouldn’t be fucking really is the only one who could fuck you the way you need it. 

“Jay,” You hiccup against your pillows, trying to lift, but his hand only pushes you further down, keeping that perfect arch for him to hit your g-spot much like he did with his fingers. “Jay,” You try again, wanting to say something and not yet having the ability. 

“That’s right.” He encourages you through his own stifled grunt, putting all the force in his body behind his thrusts now. “Say it.” He continues, now moving the hand from your tit to your hair, forcing your head back and your arch to reach pure agony. 

God, that slight change in position nearly does him in. The way you gasp out and let him force you into a shape that only a gymnast could achieve. So flexible. So slutty. You’re perfect. 

“God, Just fucking say it again.” He groans, now releasing your hair and gripping your ass, forcing you to ride back on him, trying to memorize the way your pussy walls hug around him, trying to memorize the way you moan for him, the way you’re wet for him, the way he’s finally fucking you. 

“Jay–” You moan out, lifting on your arms yourself this time, ruining the arch but pleasing him all the same when you bounce back, to the point that he’s chuckling out his groans and biting his bottom lip to the point he may actually be bleeding. 

You are truly so unbelievable to him.

“So needy for dick.” He tuts, trying to keep his composure as he stares down at the scene of you riding against him. “Just gonna ride me like the filthy slut I always knew you were?” 

You hiccup, chasing the pleasure for yourself and you alone. Loving the numbness in your brain right now, and the way his cock pulses inside of you. You feel like you could burst with every color of emotion you’ve ever felt in your life, but you refrain. 

You bounce back harder, harder, harder, until your knees buckle and he slips out of you when you fall flat back onto your stomach. 

He thinks it’s cute though, in the way you fucked against him until you couldn’t anymore. Rendering your body a melted mess of a woman, where he can easily move you to roll over, and take you for all your worth. So he can fuck you better than anyone ever has, so he can remind you that while you’re dirty, and give yourself to just about anyone, you’re proud to have given it to him too. 

And as you lay there, staring up at him when he pushes your legs up to your chest, slipping right back into you with a pornographic moan of his own, you can’t help but see him as anyone other than Jay. 

He’s too attractive, he fucks too good. 

Except it is Jay. You’ve moaned his name. It’s his cock inside of you, he’s the reason you’re so close to your second orgasm. 

And goddamn, do you need it. 

You need it so much that your fingers leave marks against his shoulders as you try to hold onto him. All you can hear are his breaths of the words “Yes.” and “Mhm.” encouraging you to scratch him harder and deeper as he fucks into you.

He knows you feel good, mostly because of the way you finally make eye contact with him, and the way you look at him as if you want him to be the one fucking you right now over anyone else. 

“You really are just–” He starts, in awe at how pretty. “So fucking pretty.” He laughs this time, slamming his hips into you at a pace that forces small moans out of you with each pointed thrust. 

And you are shocked by his sudden kind words. This whole time you never could have guessed he had some weird little crush on you, and event through him fucking you, you couldn’t tell. But now he suddenly wants to say you’re pretty? 

You don’t get him. Nor do you even care to understand, because what he’s doing right now is enough to distract you from the inevitable situation that will follow. 

You remain silent save for the few moans you offer, trying to focus solely on the way his cock splits you open. And man, he really does fuck hard. Each slam into you feels like you’re seeing stars, to the point that you can feel your throat go dry from your slacked lips.

To the point your tits are squished under your legs painfully. 

To the fucking point that the saliva that does collect in your mouth only falls out of the corners of your mouth.

Jay is so quick to catch it too, leaning down and squishing your tits even more painfully as he licks up each dribble and revels in the warmth of your mouth. He doesn’t kiss you though, no, no. He likes seeing you cock-drunk for him too much.

You’re really letting him fuck you, and you’re really just letting him do whatever he wants? All it took was losing Jake as a friend? He’d do it over and over again just to experience this in all the different ways he could imagine. 

And as he thinks about it, with your pussy clenching him so tightly, he finally releases your legs and focuses on getting you off once more. He lands his fingers right between your legs, aggressively rubbing your clit in time with each of his breathless thrusts.

He’s out of breath by this point, sweating, and his hair is falling against his face only to stick to his forehead as he gives it to you the way you deserve. He wills it out of you, unsatisfied if he can’t get you to come at least twice on him.

Then, he encourages it. 

“Come on, baby–you’re close, right?” He grunts, already feeling dangerously close to his own orgasm. “Let me feel it,” He continues, staring straight into your eyes as if he’s telepathically forcing the orgasm out of you. And it works, he can feel the clench become suffocating around his length, forcing his own eager orgasm to the surface.

“Fuck, yeah, this is what you wanted.” He nods to himself frantically, fingers stuttering against your clit as he grinds his cock into you as deep as he can manage, holding it there as he witnesses your second orgasm along with his own. 

And both of you are whispering moans and strings of “fuck” and “goddamn” and even a few of his name. 

It only drove his orgasm to keep spurting out of him far past your own high. You feel it, and you watched him do it. He didn’t pull out, nor did he even ask if he needed to. He fills you to the brim and only keeps going, lending short thrusts as if to push the cum deeper and deeper into you until he’s entirely drained and spent. 

There, he pulls out without a single glance to you before he falls onto your bed, letting the mess on his cock seep into your sheets. That’s when he looks at you, out of breath and sparkly eyed as he pushes his hair out of his face. 

He fucking smiles at you. 

“Feel better?” He asks through deep breaths, reaching his hand up to your cheek and caressing it as if he actually cares.

“No.” You say numbly, feeling more hollow than you did before giving in to the temptation of a situation so fucked up. “I feel worse now.” 

“Aww,” He coos, lifting on his elbow to look at you. “You should’ve told me, I could have kept going.”

You stare at him, unsure of how you feel about any of this. Certainly not wanting it to happen again, but somehow knowing that it very well might. 

On your terms. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Things are weird after Jay goes back to his room. He even cleaned you up a little bit using one of Jake’s old shirts with a chuckle. Even nodded to you, saying you should give it back to him unwashed when he inevitably breaks up with you. 

It made you cry the instant he finally left you alone. Which is so fucked up because you couldn’t even tell if you wanted to be alone or not. You almost wanted him to stay and pretend to love you for a little longer despite how wrong it was. 

At the end of the day though, Jay got what he wanted, and you’re still here having to clean up the trail of destruction he leaves behind him. 

The first thing you need to do is talk to Jake and lay it out straight to him. You want to tell him you know the truth, but most of all you want to ask why he did it. You want to know why he was so good at lying, and you deserve to know if any of it at all was real.

Because if he so much as nods his head that any of it was real, you’d never talk to Jay again. In fact, you’d never even look at him again. Especially after what just happened. Regardless of if you liked it, regardless of if Jake really did lie to you, you’d tell Jake everything.

Even if it makes you weird for letting Jay fuck you. Even if it’s weird that you fucked yourself against him.

You’d give everything to Jake if he’d accept it, and all you can do now is hope that somehow this situation is flipped on its head. 

Though there’s no way it could be. 

So, you lay there, alone in your bed wishing so much that you had someone to tell you that everything will be okay.

The last thing you needed was for that person to be fucking Sunghoon. 

The bright and unknowing text makes you cry harder, but you still respond to it. 

Because at the end of the day, you really are dumb. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Approaching Jake the next day felt like a whirlwind of emotion in your chest. Wondering if everything Jay said was true, wondering if it’s a lie. 

You don’t think you’ve ever hoped more for anything. For Jake to explain it all, for him to make promises and never break them. For him to still want you even if you don’t want yourself. 

He sees your face fall the second you look at him. You look nervous, scared, maybe even a bit broken. Which is insane compared to how you normally look at him, or act around him. He immediately panics too, especially when you don’t lift up and kiss him like usual.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, sitting with you in his driveway after a silent drive over. “Things feel really weird and I’d rather you just tell me now because I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Jay told me everything.” You say, voice breaking throughout each word as you try your damndest to keep the tears from falling and making you look more pathetic than you already do. 

Jake is silent when he hears you say that. Reminding himself of the threats Jay threw at him last week, and wondering why he, himself, didn’t try to work things out further with Jay so the truth wouldn’t have come out this way. 

You probably hate him. After all, this whole relationship is based on a lie, but that doesn’t mean he lied about his feelings. Because he fucking meant everything. 

“Can we go inside to talk about it?” Jake asks gently, turning to you in a timid stance, seemingly curling in on himself. He reaches out to you, but you flinch away, not wanting to be touched by anyone. “Please?” 

You try to look at him but the second you do, the tears well up to the point you’d rather just go back home. You feel so tired. Your legs are sore from what Jay did with you, your heart is sore from what Jay told you, and your really, really, just want to sleep it all away. 

“Did he really pay you?” You ask through your tears, shifting closer and closer to the door just to create distance so you can breathe. 

“Please, just come inside.” Jake pleads, face flushed and heart buzzing at the fear of losing you. 

Angry over the fact that Jay would really stoop so low. 

“No.” You dead-pan, staring out the window. “I don’t want to go inside with you.”

That really shatters Jake. Entirely, actually, in the way you say it so confidently. He knows you deserve answers though, and you’re probably sick of people toying with you and your little frail heart strings. 

“Okay.” He says in a sigh, breathing out and pushing himself against the back of his driver’s seat before turning to look at you again. “He did pay me, but I need you to tell me what he said to you.”

You feel that last bit of hope dissolve with his confirmation. Why does it matter now what Jay said? It’s probably true, right?

It takes you a few minutes to regain composure, crying hot and salty tears next to a man on the verge of breaking someone’s arm over this. 

“He said he paid you to get me away from Sunghoon. That you lied the whole time, and that you were planning to break up with me soon.”

In that instance, Jake sees red. 

You can hear him breathe through his nose trying to control how badly he wants to raise his voice, not at you, but at Jay. Jay isn’t here though, no. Jay is at home, daydreaming about how he had you once and for all, and the way he set it up for Jake to have no room to wiggle again. 

You hear Jake call your name, trying to get you to look at him, but you can’t. You try to keep your eyes out the window, solely because you refuse to look at him if he can’t come up with some type of excuse for you to cling onto. 

Jake is good at lying though, you remind yourself. 

“I didn’t lie the whole time.” He starts, leaning himself back against the seat of his car and trying to think up a way to explain it that doesn’t make him look worse than he already does. “There’s no way I can explain this without it making me look bad but–” He stops, lifting in his seat and reaching for you, forcing you to look at him. “I only lied to you about wanting to start a band, everything else was real. I stopped taking his money. I tried to tell him the deal is off because I want to be with you, I–”

You look at him this time, letting the information sit right in the center of your brain.

“He got mad when I told him I didn’t want to break up. He offered to pay me triple to do it, then threatened me when I ignored him.” 

Maybe he’s not lying. 

“I’ve known him since childhood, I only took this deal because I thought he was genuinely just trying to get you away from some asshole. But when he didn’t even want me to be with you, I realized–”

“He fucked me, you know?” You say, shaking your head with a sad laugh. “I let him. I don’t know why but,  I did.” 

Jake freezes, his apologetic tone leaving his body in an instant.

“Are you fucking joking right now?” He asks, clenching his fists before loosening them to grab your face on both sides. “I need you to understand that I lied to you before I knew you. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

You stare forward in a numb way, feeling his warm hands caress your cheek like it doesn’t look like he wants to murder someone right now. 

“I don’t care if you slept with him. He’s the one who took advantage of you, not me.”

Only now do you think your tears dry up, choosing to believe Jake, choosing to hate Jay. Both with all of your being. 

“I need you to promise me not to tell anyone.” You say with a hollow voice. “I need you to make a lot of promises to me after this if you still want me.”

“Wha-” Jake is dumbfounded by your words. “If I still want you?!” He continues, that angry expression now turned at you. “You think I don’t want you now? Because my own best friend decided to become a piece of shit? This isn’t your fault.” 

You feel lighter at those words, your legs feel less sore, your heart starts beating at a pace that you can hear. 

“I let him though.” You say, trying to look away but feeling Jake hold your face and keep it from moving. “I believed him over you.”

Jake nods, softening his features in an instant when he lunges forward to kiss you. 

“Let’s just– let’s go inside, okay?”

You nod slowly, feeling slightly dissociated about all of this, especially with the way your entire life and moral status shattered within the span of a day and a half. 

And when Jake walks you inside, he sits with you on the couch with no indication of taking advantage of you. He looks just as hurt and confused as you do despite being Jay’s co-conspirator at one point.

“Sunghoon texted me.” You add to the whirlwind of mishaps. “I responded, but then he ghosted me again.”

Jake nods, listening to you before the room falls heavy and silent. The only comfort you feel comes from the warmth of his side pressed against yours. 

“I really hope you believe me when I say I meant all of what I’ve said to you. If I was really going to break up with you and do what he wanted me to do, I wouldn’t have slept with you.” 

You pause.

“You wouldn’t have?”

Jake shakes his head, proving to you time and time again that he is nothing but a man who cares about how other people feel. If he were to continue the deal and have no feelings for you by the end of it, you genuinely believe the blow would have hurt less because he would have made sure of it. 

“As much as I wanted to sleep with you from day one, I wouldn’t have if I wasn’t as attached to you as I was, or still am.”

Everything always feels better when Jake is the one talking, explaining, navigating. It’s like there’s nothing in the world he can’t do. A situation that felt like it couldn’t be fixed, suddenly feels mended and unbelievably stupid to you.

Jay is pathetic, and you gave in to the way he spoke to you, you gave him what he wanted, and what did he do? Smile because he got his way? Chuckle at your pain? Get off on it, even? God, you’re so stupid. 

“I believe you.” You finally breathe out, feeling an immense amount of weight lifting off of you. “What should we do, then?” 

“Piss him off? What? He doesn’t have anything on me after this anyway. He isn’t gonna run and tell your mom he slept with you or anything, I know for a fact his dad would beat his ass.” 

You chuckle, which feels morbidly uncanny to do right now, but you worried you’d never be able to crack a smile again. 

“So, what else then? What else did you lie to me about?” You ask, blinking away lighter tears now. 

“My gpa isn’t a 2.1.” He looks away, feeling bad that he lied to you at all. “It’s a 4.3.”

Oh. A smart boy. 

“I don’t usually paint my nails or wear ripped clothes, and I’m kind of a loser. I’ve only slept with like two girls before you.” He continues, looking at you with sparkling eyes. “I think I like this look on me though, so in a way I wasn’t even lying about my fashion sense past the first day, if I’m being honest.”

You smile, reminding yourself of how genuine he felt when you were with him back then. 

“Only two girls?” You pin point that quick statement he made. “I definitely wouldn’t have guessed.” You laugh sarcastically, sniffling a bit due to the sheer amount of crying you’ve been doing. 

Jake rolls his eyes at you. 

“Isn’t that proof enough to know I wouldn’t have done any of this with bad intentions?”

You smile, nodding, feeling like you’re worlds away from the pain you felt this morning. 

“I can’t believe he did that.” You finally let out, leaning closer to Jake and gripping onto his arm as if you need more balance. He lets you, feeling happy but still angry at the man who used to be his most beloved friend. 

“I’d like to say the same, but unfortunately I’m not shocked.” Jake shakes his head in pity a Jay, the guy who thinks he has it all. “He’s always been awful to other people, but never to me until now.”

You nod in agreement.

“I barely noticed him before my mom decided to marry his dad. It’s going to be hard going back to campus without you. He’s probably going to sabotage me more or something.” 

“Nah,” Jake shakes his head languidly. “4.3 GPA remember?” He continues, wrapping both arms around you and hugging. “I could transfer.”

And for some reason, you can’t help but feel excited knowing Jay may have had you once, but he will never have you again. You can’t wait to see the look on his face with Jake rolls up on campus, tainting any plan to get close to you. Even more? You know Sunghoon will be fuming to know he fucked around and found out.

After all, with your mother so lovey dovey with Jay’s dad, you could always spend the summer with Jake instead. Leaving Jay all alone, where he fucking belongs.

[straykeedz-recs]

𝓇𝑒𝓋𝓊𝑒

🔺Pairing: Chris/Bang Chan x FEM!|Reader 🔺Summary: Finding yourself as a bridesmaid once again, you're dragged along to a male review where each dancer is just as charming as the next. But what happens when you're trapped in the main events' magnetizing spell? 🔺WC: 14,600+ {40-60 min reading time} 🔺AU: Stripper AU, Bridesmaid Au 🔺Genre: Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Non-Idol AU 🔺Nets: @neverendingdreams-net & @mirohs-aurora-society 🔺Warning(s)⚠️: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost to other sites. Unprotected sex [please wrap it before you tap it. This is fiction, and I control the narrative. Real life is scary, so please be safe], dom and sub undertones, creampie, oral (male and female receiving), choking, slight exhibitionism, fingering (fem receiving), light spanking, mentions of self hate, mentions of cheating. (please let me know if I missed any) 🔺Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the real lives or personalities of Stray Kids. I do not know them personally. This is purely a work of fiction. 🔺Authors note: Hi! This has been a story in the making for over a yeah now. I wrote and intended to publish this back in Oct 2023, but I never finished it. With new found inspiration, I found myself able to finally push through and publish this. I hope you enjoy this (old ass) story! Special thanks to @therhythmafterthesummer &@bunnliix for beta'ing this for me. I really appreciate it!!

Once a bridesmaid, always a bridesmaid. This was your third wedding this year. Meaning, it was soon to be your third unflattering dress. Your third time smiling uncomfortably in pictures. This would probably be your third time getting stuck dancing with the handsy uncle who always smelled like aqua velva and cheap liquor. You conclusively loathe attending weddings, but absolutely loved and adored your friends. So when asked for the third time this year to be a bridesmaid, of course, you agreed. Because, what else are friends for? 

A party bus full of late twenties and early thirty somethings, pre-gaming after pre-gaming, sounded like a setup for a god-awful lifetime movie. One where the bride gives some lucky stranger her goods after the bachelorette party and before the wedding. But you hoped that wouldn’t be the case. Imogen had been planning this wedding for four years now, and it was finally coming to fruition. She was the type to never let anything get in her way, and that included herself.

“I’m going to slide down that man and ride him till he calls me mama!” You chuckled as your friend struggled on the pole pushing her party city veil out of her face. “He won’t see it coming. He has no idea what kind of freak he's about to call his wife.” She’d been abstinent since her last relationship, so naturally, her and her fiance were celibate. That meant neither of them had dusted off the cobwebs in over four years. Couldn’t be you, but if she liked it, you loved it for her.

But you guessed forced celibacy was just as bad as actually vowing to not have sex. You were in a no-man’s-land. Pussy drier than the sonoran desert. Truthfully, if anyone did touch you, you were sure an actual cloud of dust would puff out of your cunt. It was terrible, really. Your last relationship ended with him cheating, after wholly decimating your confidence. Making your answer to ‘But He’s a photographer, he sees pretty, skinny girls all the time. What would stop him from cheating on you?’ totally irrelevant. 

You caught them in your bed, on your Egyptian cotton sheets. Three hundred thread count sheets that you let him keep, since you knew you couldn’t wash the filth out of them. To make matters worse, she was much younger -barely legal-, and half your size. It was just your luck that her billboards were posted all over town. A fucking model. Yeah, that was a never ending cycle of self-denigrating that you had to unpack with your therapist. You swore up and down you'd never let it happen again. 

But you were better now. Well, at least you hated yourself less. It took some time, a LOT of therapy, and the help of loved ones letting you know you were loved. Plus you have learned how to love and take care of yourself better. You’d given that man all of you and expected nothing of him and you know what they say about expectations right? Keep them low and you’ll never be disappointed. Bullshit. Even if you don’t have any, expect to be disappointed. 

The bus rolled to a stop. The neon lights  wrapped the building and entrance. Large posters of scantily dressed, well-oiled men stood stories tall. Big burly guards stood out front of the entrance, you guessed, to drag any woman who got too handsy with the dancers, out and off the premises. You all piled off the bus, bride and her maid of honor first. All of you, except the bride in her tight white dress, were in an array of green. 

Your dress was a dark emerald color. The satin dress hugged your body just right, hitting you mid-thigh, with ruching around the stomach to hide anything you didn’t want to show. Like your tummy. You stood back, not too excited to see sweaty men gyrating in your face. But your thoroughly plastered friends would beg to differ. “Party for Standfield.” 

One of the guards checked his tablet and nodded. He talked into his earpiece and opened the velvet rope. “Your host will meet you inside. Enjoy your stay at Taste, Male Revue.” He gave a knowing smile as your group sauntered past him and into the red glow of the front door. You were blasted by air as you entered. Rosemary and bergamot invade your senses almost immediately. 

“It smells like a man in here.” One of your friends noted as she swooned.

“Acqua Di Giò, it was what my ex used to wear to be exact.” You were perturbed. You wanted to have fun tonight, let down your hair. Not be reminded of the insufferable douche you thought was the one. 

“Great nose you have there ma’am.” You jumped as you were greeted by the host. He smiled. His features made him look like a fox, he was absolutely adorable. He looked way too young to be associated with a den of sin. What was he doing here? “We pump the fragrance into our system, it’s one of the owners favorites.” He nodded and bowed, greeting your party officially. “Welcome to Taste, male revue. I am your host for the night, Ian.”

You squinted at his name tag that clearly had the letters ‘i’ and ‘n’ written on it. You wanted to speak up about it, but when you looked around at your friends you realized it wasn’t worth the concern. “We have set up the v.i.p lounge for your party. Your bartender is starting on your first round of drinks as we speak. Your food will be served after the first hour of performances. Any booked solo time will be conducted after dinner and dessert. Please make sure to reserve your favorite dancer for any solo time before the conclusion of dessert.” He nodded, giving you all a once over, as if counting the party. 

“It seems everyone is accounted for. Please follow me so we can kick this night off.” The main club area was a huge space with white tables and chairs that contrasted with the black carpet flooring. The stage was black, but shiny, making it a smooth surface for the dancers to glide over. The main stage area was packed. An oiled up dancer was grinding on some pretty blonde girl while she giggled. 

"Must be nice.." you mumbled under your breath as you watched her get flipped upside down, her barely clothed vagina now in the dancer's face, her face in his crotch. The scene disappeared from view as you were ushered into the v.i.p area. Over the door it read "The Chapel", The tall frosted glass door looked like it had been hit with a blast chiller. I.N led the group past the doors, an odd but pleasant smile on his face. The floors were still black, but everything else was white and silver. Light lines the floor to help people navigate the darkness. 

By the looks of the room the theme had to have something to do with ice. There was a bar that was made from glass that was back-lit with blue and white lights to give the illusion of frost. The ceiling was mirrored and also lined with lights around the perimeter. "Dibs on the seat next to Imogen!" Your friends clamored as they practically raced to the front near the stage. There was a chair sitting directly in front of the stage, a sash with the silvery letter of "bride" written on it.

"You want to sit next to me, Y/n?" Imogen asked as she grabbed your hand. The two of you had been friends for so long that she could tell when something wasn't completely right with you. She squeezed your hand to get you to look at her. "If you feel even a little uncomfortable here, let me know, okay?" She smiled and you reciprocated.

"I'm fine Imogen. Plus, this night is about you. One last night of free looks before you're tied to Jerry from accounting forever." She laughed.

"That doesn't mean I don't want my girls to enjoy the night too. Honestly that's what I want the most out of it. So, sit next to me. Okay? Allana said the guys here are extremely hot" You hesitantly nodded. There was no way you would have picked a seat that close for yourself, but this was about what she wanted. So, naturally you would agree.

His days never started before noon. Anything before two pm was entirely too early for him. Days always shifted into night and then into the wee hours of the morning. So sleeping until the sun was high in the sky was a must for him. 

Chris reached out to the other side of his bed, feeling the cool sheets against his hands. It had been a while since someone occupied that side, his last relationship ended over a year ago. But they were still close friends, since it ended amicably. 

He groaned, forcing himself to roll over and swing his legs off the side of the bed. His hair was messy, curls pointing in different directions, face and lips a little swollen from activities the night before. Also known as late night ramen with his best friend, Changbin. His phone buzzed on the night table, alerting him that it was time to wake up. "I know, I know." He groaned, shutting it off.

He eventually forced himself to leave the comforts of his bed and padded to the bathroom right outside his room. After showering and grooming, he made breakfast for him and his roommates, as well as pre-workout shakes. The three of them headed off to the gym a few blocks away from their apartment, together. He loved the atmosphere there. People were kind and supportive and it was never too crowded. He put on his playlist and zoned out.

After a good shower and lunch, he and his friends headed to work. You'd think after coming home so late at night they wouldn't be ready to go back.  But they loved their job. It was fun to interact with people and dance. Getting to see the smiles on clients' faces made everything worthwhile. Plus it didn't hurt that he had some of the highest requests. Becoming so well known that he had danced at parties for some elite celebrity clientele. He couldn't tell you who though, he signed a n.d.a for that very reason.

"Alright, A team, we have a bachelorette party coming up tonight. They requested all six of team A. The maid of honor said and I quote, 'Give us all of them. We all like something different.' So, be ready for a wild night and a lot of bookings." Jeongin, the club manager and host stated. Bachelorette parties were always a mixed bag. It could either be a group of tame women who let go when they got a few drinks in the system. Or wild women who got even wilder after a few drinks. Or it could be the ones who ended up with their photos posted in the hall of shame. Those were the ones no one could let back in because they caused so much of a ruckus.

A year and a half ago, Chris had an encounter with a hall of shame inductee. She thought it would be a good idea to sneak backstage and hide in his dressing room. He was taking off his make-up when she popped out from behind his clothes rack completely naked. Telling him how she saw how he looked at her and that she knew she was just his type. He tried to talk her down, but no wasn’t in her vocabulary. It took two guards and Jeongin to pull her off him. She scratched his arm up so bad that even when it healed he had to get a tattoo to cover it.

But thankfully, hall of shamers were a rare occurrence. "Chan, they asked you to be the headliner for the night. Maid of honor says you're just the bride's type. So make sure to work your magic on the bride to be." He nodded. Once their briefing was over he headed to the dressing room to get ready for the night. 

"Did you see the pictures of the bridesmaids?" Changbin asked as he caught up with him in the hall. "I wonder how many are single. Because the bride has some gorgeous friends." He showed him the folder with their pictures in it, just a few random girls on top. Folders were usually provided for parties that might be willing to spend a little extra to get "special" treatment. Not all the dancers participated, but they had rooms past the party lounge, just for extra services. Changbin frequented the rooms, especially if he found a party goer that really caught his eye.

Chan used the rooms at first. But he felt cheap everytime he saw the extra money on his check. It felt like he lost a part of himself each time he did it. So, eventually he just stopped. The owner understood, telling him that he didn’t need to force himself. He didn’t look back and had no desire to.

The hours had quickly passed him by. It was nearly showtime. The guys could see the bridal party shuffling in, taking their seats. A few of them battling over the two open seats next to the bride. The bride was off to the side talking to another woman he couldn't see, before she dragged her along to one of the seats next to her. The house lights dimmed just as the woman was about to step into view, so he didn't see her face. "Alright guys, it's showtime." He spoke to the room. He pat Minho's back, since he was the first one up. Minho simply smirked as he headed out of their waiting room and to the curtain for countdown.

A few of Imogen's sorority sisters were giving you death glares. She chose you and her maid of honor, her sister Allana, to sit at her sides. The rest were situated in comfortable white arm chairs. Drinks had been served, not that the ladies in this party needed any more to drink. They were already inebriated. Minus you, also known as pedestrian Pattie, because of your one drink policy. The lights on the stage slowly brightened, revealing the host from earlier in the center of the stage. His outfit had changed completely. The suit he wore before was traded in for a black mesh shirt with a cassock. A matching black stole with silver and white crosses on it. Dress pants and boots. He was a priest, and this was his chapel.

"I hope you ladies are ready to get on your knees... and pray." A few of your friends screamed, exhibiting just how ready they were. "The temptations will be high tonight, let's see if you can survive it and join me on the other side. I hope our first performer can tempt you to let go of your inhibitions and pull you to the dark side." He moved from the center off to the side, "Anyone need their pipes cleaned? Welcome to the stage, Lee Know." 

Thirsty by Taemin started to flow through the speakers. You could hear the little water droplets at the beginning of the song. From the line I.N threw out about cleaning pipes and the water drops, you knew exactly what the theme would be. Plumber. As the lights focused on the performer, you noticed how handsome he looked. Worn jeans with rips in them. Working boots and tool belt. Long hair that covered his eyes added to his mysterious charm. He wore a white tank top and his arms were so well oiled you could almost see your reflection. 

Was this what male revues were like? He slid to the end of the stage, right in front of you and Imogen. Your eyes were wide, hands unconsciously moving to cover your chest. He ripped the shirt, but not completely. He left a little of it to cover some of his abs. He reached a hand down slowly as he thrusted, practiced fingers making quick work of his button and zipper. His body rolls were immaculate. You swallowed hard and he noticed, winking his eye in your direction. A girl behind you squealed thinking it was meant for her, but his eye contact told you differently. He smirked and stood, jumping down right in front of Imogen. He grabbed her hand trailing it down his torso to where his pants were undone. 

Her mouth dropped as she blushed furiously. She shook her head profusely, adamant about not even touching a man that wasn't her fiancé. He smiled, and it was one of the most dazzling things you had ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. His eyes landed on you and you stiffened. He smirked again, clearly sensing your hesitancy. He moved to the girl who screamed for him earlier and by all that was holy you were glad it wasn't you. If he fucked anything like he danced, some lucky someone was definitely walking out if here pregnant tonight.

 He had somehow removed his jeans without taking off his boots, a feat in itself. You had no idea where he pulled a water bottle from, but his ripped shirt and tight boxer briefs were soaked. The way his body moved, his thick thighs, the devilish smile he wore, all of it was heart attack inducing. No wonder they called this room the chapel, it was aptly named. You were certainly in need of prayer after witnessing him work his magic. From him picking her up to bounce her on her like he was fucking her while standing. To him putting her down and grinding into her rear. This first dance was surely an eye opening experience.

Once the song ended, I.N made his way back to the stage, sly smirk on his face. "You've been blessed by Lee Know. But are you ready for the next performer? Or do you ladies need some holy water?" He eyed the crowd. "It seems like you're in the mood for something sweet after quenching your thirst. Anyone like….. peaches?" He moved to exit the stage again. "Welcome to the stage, Lix." 

The names seemed to get stranger as time went by, first an Ian that was spelled I.N. Then Lee Know, who clearly knew a lot, judging by how his body moved. Now a Lix? Was he going to show tongue tricks? The room filled with fog, the lights fading from white to peach as Kai's Peaches started to flow through the speakers. You excused yourself, letting Imogen know you were taking a break. You headed past the bar, making eye contact with the bartender, who tipped his head at you. You returned the gesture with a smile before smacking dead into a hard chest. 

"Oh- sorry." Hands flew to your waist as an assurance that you wouldn't fall. You let your eyes travel to the man in front of you. He had on black boots, slacks, and a black tank tucked into them. A sleeve of tattoos that you glanced over, but couldn't help but immediately noticed the snarling wolf on his hand, while brushing your eyes quickly over the rest. He had a stud in his beautifully large nose, messy smokey eyeshadow. His hair was styled in an unkempt way, but it looked attractive on him. 

"It's my fault, I should have been looking where I was going." The accent threw you through a loop. He let you go, taking a step back. "Are you with the bridal party?" He nodded towards the small crowd who were cheering for Lix. It was now the hallway guy’s turn to give you the once over and truth be told you had to press your thighs together at how his eyes lingered on your lower half as he bit on his bottom lip.

"If they continue like this, yes. But if they somehow cause trouble while I'm away… I've never met those people in my life." Your little joke caused him to laugh, putting his pretty smile and dimples on display.

"Are you enjoying the show?" His brow rose as he leaned against the wall. It was almost as if he had all the time in the world to chat you up in this corridor.

"Yeah. I mean, this is my first time at a male revue, so it's a little different. Takes a little time getting used to seeing male bodies gyrating in your face." You looked back at Lix who now had one of Imogen's sorority sisters grinding on his lap. You quickly looked away and back at the confidently relaxed man in front of you.

"As opposed to a female, I'm guessing?" His voice seemed to deepen with his question.

You hummed, "I've been to a few strip clubs. My close friend invited me to his bachelor party a few months ago, and I've been back a few times since then. But Allana, the maid of honor, she's been here a couple of times, so she decided to book this for her sister." He nodded slowly, taking in your words.

"But are you enjoying it?" He tilted his head to the side.

"I mean.. it's different." You chuckled, "It has its charms. The dancers so far have been different from the last, so that's good."

"So, I take it you haven't found a dancer you like yet, is what you're saying." He had this smug look on his face as he said it.

"I liked the first guy, he was cool." 

He hummed, nodding to himself. "Cool, huh?" He smirked, "Okay. So, what can be done to make this a good experience for you?" You tilted your head as you looked at him. Why was he asking you this? This was a night for Imogen to enjoy, you were just here in support.

"For me?" You purse your lips in thought, softly humming. "As long as Imogen- well, the bride to be is happy, so am I." He shook his head, not liking how you answered for your friend and not for yourself.

"Taste is an experience for all of his patrons, brides, bridesmaids, and whoever else comes in here. So, I'll ask again.” He plastered on the most charming, panty melting smile he could manage. Dimples on full display. “What can be done to make this a good experience for you?" He leaned in towards you, your faces a mere breath away from the other as he looked you square in the eyes. “What would have you coming back for more?”

"It would be nice to see someone get flipped around, I guess." You shrugged. He asked, so you threw it out there. “I saw someone getting thrown around on the mainstage as we made our way back here. They were practically sixty-nining on stage. That was pretty cool.”

"See someone get flipped around, yeah?" he nodded as he leaned back to his original spot against the wall. "Not willing to be the one getting flipped?" You laughed unexpectedly, taking both you and him by surprise. You cleared your throat as a way to cover up the abrupt chortle.

"Do you have Hercules or Captain America back there or something?" You nodded to the door that had a small 'restricted access' sign on it.

He shook his head. "No. But I -" You cut him off again, this time with a piteous sigh and a shake of your head.

"Do you see all of me or is your vision half off like the happy hour drinks?” You clasped your hands together as you tried to find the words to explain how insane he sounded. “It's cute that you want to try, it really is. But, sweetie, you'll throw your back out trying to flip me around." You moved next to him and pointed towards your group," You have all of them to choose from. Pick one that you can handle." You pat his shoulder. "Break a leg." You left him there stunned. 

You quickly made your way to the bathroom to freshen up. That man was hot, absolutely everything about him was attractive. His accent, his eyes, lips, nose, dimples, tattoos, the way he stood there, that ass that you noticed as you passed by him, every single last thing. Too bad he had delusions of grandeur for thinking he could handle a woman like you.

Chan had a routine and for the most part he stuck to it. He'd put on the bottom part of his stage outfit, do his hair and makeup, then scope the crowd for whomever his victim would be for the night. The poor unsuspecting soul would never see it coming, until he was in their face seducing him.

He usually watched the crowd, to see how they reacted to the dancers before him. He noticed a few of the women in the party were down for anything. That could be fun, but they usually ended up wanting more than just a private dance. A few were reserved, only dancing a tiny bit in their chairs to the music. 

Then there was you. The one who looked in awe of everything that was happening, like this was a totally foreign concept to you. Like you were having your male stripper cherry popped, so to speak. As if this was an eye opening experience. He eyed your expressions before his eyes traveled down your body. Every last inch that he could see of you was stunning. As if he didn't already have you as his pick for the night, you pulled him even more with your radiating beauty. 

Plus it helped to see that you were clearly on edge. The way you kept shifting in your seat, crossing and uncrossing your legs let him know you were aroused by the show. He could make good use of this information. He was told to go for the bride, since he was her type. 

But by the way she was redirecting dancers to her friends, knowing exactly who would be the best candidate for each dancer, says she is loyal and might be the best wingwoman in town. He needed to make good on his promise to approach her first, and hopefully she would direct him right to you.

Bumping into you was purely coincidental. He usually didn't make contact with his person for the night until he locked eyes with them on stage, he liked for things to seem organic. But talking to you only made the fire inside of him grow hotter. He was desperate to prove you wrong. To show you that he just simply needed to be Chris to flip you around or do whatever else it is you fancied.

You were confident, he'd give you that. You knew what you wanted. He liked that. But what he didn't like was you dismissing him like that. Hercules? Captain America? It absolutely boggled his mind that you thought you were incapable of receiving what that girl on the main stage received just because you had a few more curves. He settled at the bar and nodded to the bartender. He always took a ceremonial shot before his stage, tonight would be no different.

"What's on your mind?" Seungmin asked as he placed the empty shot glass in front of Chan. "Because I can see you overthinking from here." He poured the top shelf tequila into his glass then slid it closer.

"The woman who passed by here not too long ago, did you get a good look at her?" He really didn't know why he was asking, it was like Seungmin had photographic memory, he could probably tell him what time you passed by and everything.

"I did. Why?" He narrowed his eyes, "Don't tell me you're going back on your rule." Chan took the shot, shaking his head as the liquid burned down his throat.

"No. I just.." He sighed as he slid the shot glass back across the bar. "Do you think I'm strong enough to you know… flip her? Because she has me second guessing myself." 

"Possibly." Seungmin shrugged. "You know Changbin hyung is the better candidate to answer that question." When he didn't say anything further, he knew he was done with the conversation.

"Thanks, Seungmin." The bartender nodded, getting back to making another round of drinks for the party goers.

Chan headed back backstage, passing you again as you exited the bathroom and headed to the bar. You didn’t even spare him a glance, sending him even further into the abyss that was self doubt. 

Chan found Changbin in his dressing room, exercising before his set. "Bin. Question." Chan flopped on the couch, not too far away from his friend. "You scoped all of the bridal party, right?" 

Changbin grunted and stopped his bicep curls. "You know I did. Gotta pick my person for the night." He grabbed a weight to do bicep curls, he had to make sure his muscles looked good under the lights. "Why? What's up? You look a little worried."

Chan was chewing on his lip nervously, not even realizing he was a bit frazzled by her comments. "There is this girl -" He stopped mid-sentence as Changbin nearly dropped his weight. 

"A girl- wait- seriously?" He carefully put his weight down so he didn't accidentally injure himself with any more news. "You plan on… you know.. Going back on your rule?" 

"No- why do people keep asking me that?" He sighed exasperatedly. "Where is the folder?" Changbin nodded towards the makeup table. Chan grabbed the folder and skimmed through the photos until he found yours. "Her." He gave his friend the photo, you didn’t have many full body pictures, so Allana provided them with the best one she possibly could. "Do you think it would be possible for me to flip her?" Changbin eyed the picture for what seemed like forever.

"Yeah. I think you can do it. Why are you asking this suddenly? This isn't like you." He slid the picture back into the folder.

"She said I couldn't."

"You felt challenged, huh?" Changbin laughed.

"I- I did and I don't normally let things like that get to me. But- I felt like she dismissed the thought before she'd even seen me work. She told me I'd throw my back out trying to flip her. Then told me to 'break a leg.'" He mocked your tone while rolling his eyes.

Changbin laughed so hard he doubled over, clutching his stomach from the pain of it.

"It's not funny!" Chan usually had unwavering confidence when it came to stage presence, for him to be shaking in his boots over one little comment was the highlight of Changbin's day.

"You're right, it's not funny. It's hilarious. I like this girl. She managed to shake the unshakable Bang Chan.” He smirked and Chris groaned. “But seriously bro, just prove her wrong. Pull her on stage, seduce her, then flip her. Simple."

"But I'm supposed to go after the bride." Chan protested, his face somewhere in between a scowl and a pout.

"Forget that. Minho already said she's denying dances for herself. So go after the friend." He picked his weight back up. "Now get out so I can get ready. I can hear Hyunjin's music playing and I'm up next."

Chan nodded and took his leave. Taking everything his friend said into account. He was going to win her over. He was going to give her exactly what she wished for and a little more.

Bored. That's exactly what you were at the moment. You didn't want anyone to take it the wrong way, these men were talented, there was no doubt in that. They were also too pretty to be real. Like somehow they were all AI generated. You flashed a smile at the unbelievably pretty man on stage as he made eye contact with you. His flowing black locks were mostly pulled into a ponytail, showing off his alarmingly beautiful face.

You figured his theme was that of a prince and honestly, he fit the bill. Regal looking from head to toe. You sipped your drink as he rolled his surprisingly toned body. You appreciated the view even if your usual type was a little bit beefier. You preferred a man that could pick you up, toss you around a little bit. And truth be told, you looked like you could break him just by looking at him. Him, the cute chubby cheeked boy before him and the small fairy-like blonde named Lix. At least the first guy, Lee Know, looked like he'd put up a fight. His thighs at least made him look sturdy. Plus he looked like he might be into a little pain, and you liked that.

You weren't even going to think about the cocky guy from the hallway. Sure, he had nice shoulders and an even nicer ass. But the mere thought that he thought he could flip you was laughable. He didn't look strong enough to flip a table to be honest. You were too caught in your own thoughts to notice that the prince had vacated the stage and I.N. was announcing the next performer. It wasn't until the lights changed from the pretty, calming, pale blue, to the fiery red that consumed the whole room. Alarm bells rung, pulling everyone's attention to the stage. Smoke snaked its way from behind the large white panel that covered the expanse of the back of the stage, giving a hazy feel to the room. “What's my name?” 

A few of the ladies must have been paying attention to I.n. seeing that they replied with a roaring “Changbin!”. That included Allana, who wasn't sitting not too far away from you. His voice was gruff, sexy. Your eyes hadn't moved from the stage since the atmosphere changed. His silhouette was the first thing you saw of him. This thick, muscular man. Everything from head to toe looked sturdy and well crafted. You sat up, gripping the armrests of your chair. A smooth r&b track flowed through the speakers as he sauntered out. A fireman. His pants sat low, suspenders keeping them in Place. His Coat was slung over his shoulders, his hat pulled down over his eyes. This man was sexy.

He tossed his coat out into the crowd. He literally fanned the flames of tension between two girls as they started fighting over it, both tugging on the yellow fireman's cloth. What was this effect he seemed to have on all the women, that included you. He held eye contact with Imogen with every step he took off stage. You could see the faint blush on her cheeks as he got closer and closer. 

Even he seemed to have a pull on her and that alone spoke volumes. He straddled her legs and grabbed her hand putting it right between his peck before making them dance. She covered her face with her free hand, giggling like some adolescent schoolgirl. You'd only seen her like this a few times in college, but this had to be a first, at least since she'd met her fiancé. He slid her hand down his oiled torso as he body rolled. She was as red as a tomato and you were just as or even more green with envy. 

She'd been adamant all night about keeping her hands to herself, what changed? You sighed, deciding to push your jealousy to the side. You took the final sip of your drink. Opting to let the cool liquid calm your nerves. He stepped back, and grabbed Imogen's hand, pulling her to the stage. Maybe she'd had one too many drinks and forgotten the strict rules she had set for herself? Either way, this was her party, something to celebrate her and her upcoming marriage, so you had no ground to stand on when it came to being upset.

But it did look fun. The smile on her face and blush on her cheeks said it all. He picked her up and carried her to stage, all while she covered her face out of sheer embarrassment. Some girls really had all the luck.

Nerves. They weren't something he was used to dealing with before a show and any he did feel would be washed away by the shot he took beforehand. Not today. Chris was beyond just nervous, he was two seconds away from having a full blown panic attack and it was all because of you. You and your words. He knew better than anyone just what he was capable of, but you had him second guessing himself at every turn. Turning to others for advice and reassurance, which was very unlike him.

He looked out at the crowd while Changbin did his thing, taking one for the team and seducing the bride to be, so Chris could have a little more of an opportunity to try and get to you. He eyed your expressions, your movements. Noticed the slight grimace on your face as you looked on at your friend and Changbin with what looked like jealousy. “Ah, so that's your type.” He couldn't help the little smirk that formed on his lips. He and Changbin were gym buddies and even though they had very different body types, they still did the same things when working out. He had this in the bag.

Chan usually fluffed his cock before a show. Though he looked pretty decent without it, fluffing before he went on stage ensured he looked just as above average as he was. He went back into his dressing room to finish getting ready. He took his usual routine, pulling up a video, locking the door so he wouldn't be interrupted. He landed on a video he liked and started to stroke himself. But his cock seemed uninterested in something that had gotten him off time and time again. To say he was frustrated, would be the understatement of his lifetime. You insinuating that he couldn't handle you kept flashing in his head in big, red, neon letters. 

What is the off chance that you were right? That he really couldn't handle you. That he'd make a fool of himself and you in the process? What if he dropped you? He'd never be able to forgive himself. He'd never be able to show his face here or anywhere for that matter. What if this followed him for the rest of his life. Like somehow everyone knew he dropped a girl who told him he couldn't handle her. He groaned loudly, so loud he almost missed the knock on his door. “Five minutes.” He sighed. There was no use, his dick was disheartened. He tucked himself back into his boxers and pants and threw on the rest of his outfit. 

He did a self check. Breath. Minty fresh. Outfit. Every detail in place. Makeup. Subtle, mostly just a tinted moisturizer and an alluring smoky eye. Hair, straightened and pushed up and back out of his face. He nodded to himself in the mirror. “You got this.” He hit his chest a few times to really pump himself up before heading out towards the stage. It was almost as if everything went mute. He couldn't hear the crowd screaming Changbin's name, practically begging for an encore. 

He couldn't hear I.N. trying his best to calm them down so he could announce Chris as the next performer. He couldn't hear the stage hand telling him to wait. He snapped out of it as the young woman touched his chest. “Are you even listening? I.N hasn't announced your name yet.”  she rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed by him at the moment.

“I'm so sorry. You know what it's like when I'm in the zone.” He gave her an apologetic look. She sighed and nodded, deciding to let things go. Chris tried his best not to look out at the crowd, he didn't need anything knocking the confidence he'd built up. But he couldn't help himself. He peeked out, finding you and your friends fanning yourselves while giggling. Probably still giddy about Changbin's performance. He couldn't understand why, but that gave him a little confidence boost.

While Changbin was a wonderful performer, Chris was in the top stop for a reason. He couldn't wait to shock the crowd with the routine he had planned. “You ladies have been very naughty tonight. You know that? Now that the flames have been put out, I think it's time we arrest the culprit behind it all. Don't you-” Sirens filled the room again, but this time it was police Sirens. “Oh no, the cops are coming. Is that…” I.N. pretended to look off in the distance as if this was a totally believable bit. His dedication to the scene was impeccable. “It's officer Bang. Be careful ladies, I've heard he's a very bad boy with a badge. I hope you all are ready to submit or be charged.”

The stage hand nodded and Chris finally walked out on stage. With one hand on his belt, the other twirling the cuffs, he walked out to the middle of the stage and stopped. His lips curled into a smirk as he looked over the crowd. He made it to the end of the stage and pointed at a still flustered Imogen. She covered her face and shook her head. 

Changbin had clearly done some work on her, if she was back to refusing dances. She glanced from her sister to her best friend as if she was contemplating which one to pick, between the two. She grabbed your hand lifting it into the air, declaring you the winner of the lap dance from officer Bang. Much to his delight and your chagrin.

He extended a hand towards you, a slick smile on his face, while you visibly panicked. “Go, Y/n. Have fun. For me, yeah?” It was like she said magic words. You closed your eyes and sighed. It was for Imogen. That is the reason you relented. At least that's what you tried to tell yourself.  You took his hand and he held it until you made your way up the tiny staircase to the stage. 

“Before we get started, do I have your consent to do what I need for entertainment purposes?” Your eyes scanned his face before darting to Imogen who nodded profusely. 

You sighed again, shoulders falling slightly in defeat. “Yeah, yeah. Just get on with it.” You waved him off just for him to catch your wrist, slapping the cuff around it.

“Then, you're under arrest.”

“What's the charge officer?” One of the ladies yelled from the back. She was a lawyer, so this was probably very familiar for her.

“Underestimating me.” He once again invaded your space, his face dangerously close to your own. You could smell the fresh mint toothpaste on his breath. “You're guilty, until I prove you wrong.” You were so distracted by the alluring look in his eyes that you didn't feel him grab and cuff your other hand until you heard the faint click. “Play my music.” He yelled back at the dj. You felt this overwhelming sense of embarrassment. Was this man about to do what you knew he couldn't?

He bent you over, with your cuffed hands placed on the back of a chair that you hadn't realized had been put on stage. “I can't take you in until I frisk you. So spread those legs for me.” You did as told, spreading your legs a little, feeling your dress ride up the backs of your thighs and settling right in the undercuff of your booty.

 You tried not to be self conscious about slightly exposing yourself to not only your friends but a bunch of strangers in the process. You felt the warmth of his hand on the small of your back as he pushed it down ever so lightly, making you arch. The fabric covering your ass was hanging on by a thin thread.

You could have sworn you heard him curse behind you as he rubbed your sides softly. “You aren't hiding anything, are you?” You couldn't see his face, but he was trying his best to continue playing his role. The way your curves looked in this dress was already tugging at the strings to make him come undone. You, bent over like this, this was causing the frayed ends of his sanity pull as well.

“No.” You sighed heavily. You couldn't look at the crowd. To you they could only be responding in either two ways. Disgust or bewilderment. There was no in between in your mind. 

“I'm going to pat you down to make sure you don't have anything on you to hurt me.” He knew that was a lie. You'd already hurt him. You couldn't possibly do more damage than you already did to his ego. Or so he thought. With both hands situated on your hips, he ground his own hips into your backside before letting his hands slip down to your thighs. 

He dropped to his knees, his hands traveling down with him over the outside and then the over inside of your parted legs. He was immediately faced with more pain than he could possibly manage. He was face to face with the wet patch in your lace panties and it immediately threw him off guard.

 It wasn't that he didn’t know you were wet, he'd figured that out much earlier in the night. No, it was because it was much worse than you just being merely wet, you were soaked, panties clinging to your pussy for dear life he was desperately doing to his sanity.

You felt exposed. Chewing on your lip, just waiting for the moment you could finally sit down. The rest of the girls who were danced on were seemingly having the time of their lives and that included Imogen. Why couldn't you just get out of your head? Whether he could flip you or not could be pushed to the back of your mind for the time being.

You just wanted to relax and enjoy the moment. Because when was the next time you'd get a dude to touch you like this? You were more than touch starved for a reason. In a perpetual dry spell. Plus, it didn't hurt to admit that there was this overall sexiness about this man. You sighed, arching your back a little more, spreading your legs a little more. Giving him more of the view he didn't know he needed.

He had to calm himself. The view he had in front of him right now, had to be one of the best things he'd ever seen in his life. It almost felt as if he was receiving the lap dance instead of you. He shook his head lightly, bringing himself back from being too distracted by you. He ran his hands down the outsides of your legs then moved between them to rub back up. 

Standing back up, he grabbed your hips once again to grind into you, hands moving up your sides slowly, then up your back to the nap of your neck. He grabbed tight, not tight enough to hurt and pulled you back to him. Your back now flush to his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, hips still moving sensually against your own. You could feel his steady breaths against your neck, as if he wasn't doing a routine. As if his heart beating quickly in his chest wasn't enough to alert you to how he was feeling. 

“Turn around for me.” You took a moment, but complied. You couldn't have him thinking you were eager enough to comply immediately. You waited a beat before turning around and facing him. He didn't let go of you, but he gave enough slack in his arms for you to move freely enough. Your chest rose and fell with each of your panicked breaths. Being this close in proximity to such a handsome man was making you nervous. 

It'd truly been that long since you've been touched? Yes. You were genuinely surprised he wasn't covered in cobwebs from the contact. He hooked his hand under your thigh, lifting it, settling it againsts hip. His other hand sat  firmly right above your ass just to keep you in place. You could feel his bulge against your heat, just the thought of his proximity made you salivate. And it turned out that he didn’t need fap material when you were in his presence. He'd recovered just fine after not being able to get it up with his usual means.

From where the audience was sitting, it looked like the two of you were caught in a passionate moment, unaware of the spectators. He ran his nose over your jaw as he pulled you in even closer. There was little to no room between the two of you. It took everything in him to pull away. There was the magnetism you held that made him not only curious about you, but made him want to stick to you. “Why don't you sit down for me, huh?” You sucked in a shaky breath and gave him a faint nod.

He let you go, even if his instincts told him to keep holding on. He took a step back as you took a seat. He tossed his hat to the side of the stage and took his sweet time unbuttoning his shirt. He threw the garment to Imogen who surprised the heck out of you as.she sniffed it. She mouthed an “Oh my gosh he's so fucking fine.” To you while fanning herself, successfully making you giggle. 

But those sweet giggles were soon replaced by A gasp as Officer Bang stood shirtless in front of you. You finally got to see the full extent of his tattoo placement. Random little red and yellow flowers, some flags, a cute portrait of a dog. None of it matched his almost sinister hand tattoo. That snarling wolf that looked as if it was staring you down, ready to rip you to shreds.

He leaned into your face once again, pulling you away from ogling his half naked, tattooed body. His finger hooked under your chin so that you'd look up at him. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?” Something about the way he looked at you as the sensual sounds of the Cuff It remix playing in the background made you press your legs together in an effort to stop your pussy from getting any wetter, as if it could. You were undoubtedly soaked, you knew that and unbeknownst to you, so did he.

“Never.” You whispered to him, a smirk spreading on your lips. “You'd have to earn that, Officer Bang.” You leaned back in the chair, his hand falling from your face and back to his side. The music playing in the background drowned out the conversation the two of you were having.

“Earn it, huh? Alright, bet.” He was putting on an air of confidence, he wanted you, if no one else, to think he was as confident as they came. Even if his feelings had been wavering all night. He took your cuffed hands and placed them on his stomach as he rolled his body. Your fingers slid until they caught onto his belt. He moved in, straddling your legs while towering over you.

“Take it off for me.” His voice was clear and commanding. He watched you carefully as you unbuckled his belt. Your brows were furrowed, lips tucked between your teeth. The amount of concentration exerted just undo his belt, let him know that your mind was working ten steps ahead of you right now. Even the look of innocence you gave him after you completed your task did not negate the fact.

“Thought you weren't going to be a good girl for me?” He whipped the belt through the loops then folded the belt in half. “What happened to me earning it? Huh?” He tapped the leather accessory under your chin. His eyes were so piercing they almost broke the barrier of your confident facade.

“How does that make me a good girl? Maybe I just want to see you with less on. Did that thought occur?” He chuckled, grabbing the back of your head while grinding towards your face. You flashed him that innocent look again, but with your adjacency to his crotch and you darting your tongue out to wet your lips, there was nothing innocent about you. 

If anything you straddled the line between playful and something deeply sensual, with little to no effort. You knew what you were doing. You were teasing him, and he loved to be teased almost as much as he loved teasing. “It did. But you're a little too eager for it to be just that.” He stepped back again, hands moving to your thighs again. He pushed them open and lifted them, letting your legs rest around his waist. He grabbed the back of the chair with one hand, the other was placed on your hip. “Just admit you want me. It'd make things easier for you.” The way he ground his hips into you had a moan slipping past your lips

His lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Just give in to me.” He moved in like he was going to kiss you. At least to your hazy visions that's what it looked like. He fit so perfectly between your thick thighs and the way he moved against you was dizzying. Your friends were on the edge of their seats as they watched this dance. It was flirting with being hardcore pornography on the stage. The way your wetness was now dampening the front of his trousers. How your legs wrapped around him, pulling him in with the sharp heels of your shoes.

You moaned again, nails dragging down his stomach. “I could do much more to you if you let me. Just give in to me.” He was staring into your soul. He was touching you, but just barely and yet it felt as if every nerve ending of yours was on fire. As if another part of you was reacting, you nodded. It had to be that part of your brain that was too horny to function. The touch-starved beast that was desperately seeking attention from this beautiful specimen of a man that had you pent down to a chair in front of your friends.

His lips twitched into a small smirk. “Good girl.” He unhooked your legs from around his waist and moved them to his shoulders. His smirked shifted into a cocky smile as he left open mouth kisses down your clothed frame till he was right above your heat. He stealthily placed a kiss to your exposed panties, eyes still focused on yours, but now with a playful glint in them. He placed kisses on your thighs then nipped at the skin.  

Chris had never been this drawn to a client before. He wanted to feel your skin for real. To feel your touch, maybe even to taste you, if you'd let him. With him this close to you, he could smell your sweet scent. And if he was honest, he'd tell you just how tempting you were. But, the man had a job to do. He was meant to entertain, and he had no reason not to fulfill that task. 

He switched your position, your thighs were once again around his waist. “Put your arms around me.” You didn't hesitate. You looped your arms over his head, letting your arms settle around his shoulder, fingers accidentally threading into the damp patch of hair on the back of his head. He lifted you up, almost as if you weighed nothing to him. The look of shock on your face said enough. 

He chuckled, his hands gripping your ass to keep you in place. “Hold on tight, okay? I got you.” He used the grip on your ass to swing you back and forth, your hips crashing into his crotch, like he was fucking you. Your hold on his neck tightened. A bit of fear he'd drop you was creeping back up into the back of your mind, no matter how much you tried to trample it down. 

“I won't drop you, I promise.” He smiled, “If I do, you can take it out on me however you like…. Deal?” That however you like sat with you. You almost wanted him to drop you, just so you could take it out on him. You nodded in agreement and relaxed your body, so that he could do what he wanted. “Plus, I don't plan on flipping you in front of all these people.” You looked at him confused, what was he even saying?

“That should be something done in private.” The next thing you know, your back is pressed against the cold stage and his hips are giving you a barrage of quick fire strokes just to slow it down once again. Now all he needed to do was a few finishing moves to close out the show, then things would come to a close. That would be the end of his time with you. For some reason, that just didn’t sit right with him. 

He wanted to at least know your name. He’d tell you his name in return. He didn’t want to leave off with you knowing him as Officer Bang or Bang Chan. He wanted you to meet Chris. He placed your leg on his shoulder, feeling from your ankle down to your thigh. You don't know how but he turned you quickly on your stomach and maneuvered himself back between your legs. Rolling his hips into yours. You had nowhere to run, and truthfully you liked feeling him pressed against you.

You were flustered, face slightly damp with sweat. Chest rising and falling rapidly. Body racing with adrenaline. Loving the feeling of his hips grinding in circles against yours once again, making the heat of lust crawl back up your body once again. Fogging your mind until you couldn’t think of anything else but the way he felt moving against you. The lights dimmed, music faded, your friends roared loudly as they cheered from the crowd. You’d forgotten they were there, mind too gone with the man that was still on top of you, though his routine had ended. 

“Come back stage with me?” He asked in your ear, voice hoarse from speaking over the music so you could hear. You nodded, too aroused to actually verbalize an answer. “Was.. was that a yes?” He chuckled lightly as he sat up. He grabbed your hips, helping you to get up from the floor, knowing it'd be pretty hard to do with your hands still cuffed. He stood to his feet before helping you and leading you carefully off stage, hand in hand.

That part was still dark and he didn't want you to take a tumble. You squinted as the darkness turned to light once behind the curtain. He pulled you off to the side, retrieving the key from his pocket. “You did great, by the way.” He kept your hand in his as he tried to unlock your cuffs. “It felt.. natural.” He wouldn't look in your eyes, at least not for long.

“I should be saying that to you, honestly. You're an amazing dancer.” You nodded, but noticed just how shy he got. He was still shakily trying to put the key in the hole, biting down on his bottom lip. “Take your time…” You encouraged him. “I'm sure Imogen still wants to party while a few of the girls.. you know.. partake in the other services offered here.” You didn't know why, but the thought of one of your friends asking to sleep with him bothered you immensely.

“And… What about you? What are your plans… if I ever get you uncuffed?” He was cursing himself out in his mind, how hard was it to take off a cuff? He'd done this many times before. Why was he so nervous?

“I'm down for whatever. I mean, I have to wait for my ride, right?” You chuckled. “Plus I'm sure one of the girls is booking you as we speak. Especially after that performance. I only saw a few of them from my peripherals, but they were beyond impressed. I think you got a standing ovation.” You chuckled half heartedly, the thoughts of him and one of the girls was still swimming around in your head. Leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Ah- yeah, nah. I don't offer those kinds of services. I leave that up to the rest of the guys.” He finally heard the click of the cuff and sighed out of relief. “Fucking.. finally.” He removed them and placed them in his pocket, then grabbed your wrists to message away the little indents left by them. “It doesn't hurt, does it?” His eyes were fully focused on your wrists.

“Not really. Rope burn is far worse, in my opinion.” You shrugged. “The marks will be gone within the hour.”

“Rope Burn- heh. Is it?” God, you were still doing things to his mind. His erection hadn't calmed down yet, either. “Are you.. Ya’know.. into that type of thing?” He could hear his heart in his head, beating loudly.

“I'm into all types of things, Officer Bang.” You teased.

He had to look up to the ceiling to gather himself. The image of you tied in rope, just waiting there for him almost made him cum in his trousers. He cleared his throat, focusing his attention back on you, “Chris. You can call me Chris.”

You smirked, “Chris, huh? Are you expecting me to tell you my name now…. Chris?” It was something in the way you said his name that almost made his knees give out.

“That would be nice. But it's not necessary, not if you don't want to tell me.” He was sweet, you recognized that. He finally let your wrists go, and you immediately missed the contact.

“Lucky for you, I'm feeling generous.” You gave him a soft smile, “I'm Y/n. It's nice to meet you, Chris.” You didn't ask or hesitate, you just took his hand in yours, giving it a shake. But he took you off guard when he pulled you hand to his mouth, giving you a kiss on the back of it.

“Pleasures all mine.” That mischievous glint was back in his eyes as they traveled from your face down to your chest and back up.

“It's not. But it could be.” You don't know who broke first, but you were suddenly engaged in a kiss, your back pressed against the hallway wall that you first met him at. He had you boxed in, a hand on each side of your head. Your hands started at his waist and worked their way up his abs to his pecks.

He needed to feel more of you. Just your lips touching was not even close to being enough to satisfy this growing need he had for you. He pressed his body yours, moving one hand to grip one of your thick thighs, resting it at his waist. You could feel him against your core, the contact igniting something within you.

He moved his kisses from your lips to your neck, taking his precious time with leaving his mark behind. He didn't know who needed to know, but he wanted people to know he'd been there. You moaned as his teeth grazed over the most sensitive spot on your neck. “There, yeah?” He ran his tongue over the bite, just to suck a hickey into the spot. 

“Turn around for me.” Letting your leg fall from his side, he took a step back, watching you carefully as you turned to face the wall. Face and chest pressed to the faux brick. “Fuck…” Your dress had ridden up, but not far enough in his humble opinion. He grabbed the fabric and pulled it up over your ass, watching your ass drop-out of the material. The glimpse he'd gotten earlier didn't do you justice, not in the least bit.

He landed a smack to your ass, gripping that same spot before smacking it again. You looked back at him, lust dripping off of your expression. “Don't look at me like that.” He could feel his cheeks flush, his ear burning.

“Like what?” You asked, genuinely curious as to what your expression looked like to him. There was still lust burning in your eyes.

“Like you want me to fuck you. Right here, right now.” He had taken hold of your hips again, his body pressed to yours once more.

“I wouldn't object, if you're asking.” His fingers dug into your hips lightly. He leaned his head on your shoulder and let out an exasperated sigh. He was convinced you were sent to get him to back out of everything he'd once vowed he'd never do again. Maybe Changbin sent you. An agent of chaos.

“You don't seem like the reckless type and that… would be very reckless.” He felt as if he was on the edge of desperation. “You aren't a bad girl, are you?” You whimpered. He hadn't realized you were feeling just as desperate as he was. “You don't want to be a good girl for me? Haven't I earned it?”

He was breaking you down with every word utter from his beautifully plump mouth. “Can't I be both for you?” He nodded against your shoulder.

“Yes, yes you can. Yes, you absolutely can, baby.” His fingers toyed with the lacey waistband of your thong. “As long as I'm offered the same courtesy.” He traced along it until he got to the string sitting snugly between your cheeks. “May I?” He pulled away, just to get another glimpse at your ass.

“Go right ahead.” You by all accounts, were a straight shooter. You usually told it like it was, especially when you'd had a drink or two. But being this bold? With a stranger? Never. This was far from who you usually were. He pulled your panties to the side, taking in the glorious sight before him.

“Fuck…. I've been waiting to see this all night.” He spread your cheeks to get a better view and the visual was almost too much to take in. Your pussy was already ready for him. Your puffy lips were smeared with wetness that had collected throughout the night. He ran his fingers over your lips, shuddering from the warmth of your slickness. 

You moaned feeling his skin make contact with yours. It'd been so long since you'd been touched that you'd almost forgotten what it felt like. “I want to tease you so bad…” His voice was breathy, fingers running up and down your slit, “But you're so fucking wet I can barely contain myself. Your pussy is begging me to fuck it.” He slipped a finger in. You were wet, but he could still feel resistance. He groaned. His mind filled with how wet and tight you were. 

He added a second, knowing almost immediately that he'd have to stretch your pussy out if he expected to fit. If he even made it that far. You  clenched around his two digits as he slid into your wetness. You bit down on your bottom lip, to stifle the moan that was rising in your throat. He gave you no time to adjust, his fingers pleasantly grazing against your walls, in and out. Your eyes fluttered shut, you were numb to any of your surroundings that weren't him

He twisted his fingers, palm now facing down, the eye of a snarling wolf on his hand now watching your back. He was intoxicated by the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of you. Imagination running wild with the thoughts of what it would feel like to be deep inside of you. To feel your tightness squeezing his length, wetness coating it. To see just how your fat little cunt swallowed him.

He needed to add a third, for his sanity. Just as he slipped that third finger in, people rounded the corner. He stuffed them inside of you, covering your mouth with a kiss as he shielded your lower half with his own. You couldn't even comprehend how indecent this was. Your mind is completely consumed with lust.

“Oh- didn't mean to interrupt.” Allana giggled, hands wrapped tightly around Changbin's arm. Changbin gave his friend a knowing look, a smirk dancing across his lips.

“The lounge is free. All the guys booked tonight.” He smiled, patting his shoulder before toting off his client for the night.

“We can't stay here.” Chris spoke lowly into your ear. “Come with me, yeah?” He pulled his fingers from your grip and couldn't stop himself from getting a taste. The way your wetness coated his fingers like the sweetest drips of ice cream from a melting cone, he truly couldn't resist. 

He indulged in sweetness while you adjusted your dress, pulling it down to make you look presentable once again. He was still licking his fingers even after you were done. Needing more than just a taste, he grabbed your hand and tugged you gently along to the lounge. It was a shared space, but with his dressing room being too small and him not having a designated room anymore, the lounge would have to do.

Chris made sure to lock the door. “I don't know how much time we ha-” He was stopped mid-sentence by your lips on his. You pulled him by the belt loops on his pants to the plush white sofa in the middle of the room. Pushing him down on it, you quickly straddled his lap and wrapped your arms around him, resuming the kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, mingling with the lingering minty freshness. 

Everything was telling him to be a gentleman, to be responsible. To find out how you'd get home if your friends left. He'd gladly take you, but he knew how it would look if he knew your address. Most people wouldn't be comfortable with that, he understood. “Get out of your head.” You spoke against his lips. You could tell he was thinking? That it had nothing to do with the nasty things his other head had been thinking for hours now? “Hey.” Pulling away from the kiss, you grabbed his face, making him look at you. “Whatever it is, worry about it later. I feel like I’ve been edged all night and I really need to be fucked stupid. Okay?”

He chuckled, “Okay.” Your little not so peppy-talk seemed to do it for him. Any and all thoughts not pertaining to this moment he was sharing with you were now out of the window. He needed to see you in all your glory, and thought he appreciated the way that dress fit you, he would much rather see it on the floor. He slipped the straps off your arms, fingers gently trailing down your skin, leaving little goosebumps in its wake.  You let it fall, pulling your arms out. Next to go was your strapless bra, expert fingers quickly rid you of the garment, tossing it somewhere in the vicinity. “You’re perfect.” His thumbs traced over your collarbones, before his fingers joined in over your chest and down to your breast.

“Hardly. But I know how to take a compliment.” You joked, “Thank you.” He touched you like he was trying his best to savor the moment, not wanting it to end. He shook his head, cupping your breast, feeling the weight of them.

“You look perfect to me.” You just hummed, not wanting to argue him down about it. It wasn't worth it and you wanted to stay in the moment. He kissed your sternum, “Get up for me for a second.” You were taken off guard, but you moved off his lap and stood up. He laid down flat on the sofa and beckoned you over with his finger. “Sit on my face. I want to taste you.” It took a second for your brain to catch up with his words.

“Look, just because you might be capable of flipping me does not mean I wouldn't suffocate you-” He groaned, interrupting you.

“I didn't ask. Just come sit on my fucking face.” Your eyes went wide, not expecting him to talk to you like that. But you would be the first to admit it kind of turned you on. You moved with haste, kneeling next to his head before straddling his face. “Good girl.” You were beginning to really like the sound of him calling you that.

You steadied yourself with your hands on his chest, careful not to put all your weight on him, keeping most of it on your knees. Chris grew impatient the way you were hovering over him, after pulling your panties to the side once again, he roughly grabbed your hips pulling you down on top of him. His face made the perfect seat for you, enveloped between your cheeks, nose and mouth slotted between your lower lips. His tongue immediately went to work, making you squirm on top of him.

You bit back your moans, even with the other guys being otherwise occupied, you didn’t want to risk being too loud. A hard smack landed on your ass, making you jump and squeeze your thighs around his head. Deft hands spread your cheek; that gave him a little more room to move between the thickness of your ass and pussy lips. Not wanting to be the only one to receive pleasure, you leaned forward, sliding a hand into his pants. You gripped his member with one hand and pushed his boxers under his balls with the other.

You gasped at the sight of his thick cock; mouth immediately salivating. He slid his thumb into your cunt, making your grip on him tighten. He groaned against your clit, stopping for a second just to commence his torture of your pussy. But two could play that game, right? You went to work, testing out the waters first.  Seeing just how much of his big cock you could take. You spit on it, letting it dribble down his length. “Good girl.” He spoke between your folds.

Making sure his member was completely wet, you gripped the shaft with two hands and took him back in your mouth. Your mouth and hands moving simultaneously on his dick made him sigh with pleasure. It'd been a while since he'd been touched by anyone besides himself and he needed the relief more than you knew. Your mouth was the perfect amount of wet and the way you slurped was the perfect amount of nasty. He replaced his thumb with his index and middle fingers, going slow at first before quickening his pace to match yours. 

Wet noises replaced the background club noise that filled the room earlier. Chris loved the way you tasted on his tongue but he needed to get his dick wet with more than saliva. With a hard smack to your ass, he spoke up, “Turn around for me.” He had figured out that in order to get his point across with you he needed to be assertive. He was normally polite, but politeness could wait for later. “I need to be inside of you.” 

You were so needy you didn’t even think twice about his request. You let his cock go with some resistance, a small pop resounding through the room as you pulled him from your mouth. You must have been moving a little too slow for his liking, because the next thing you knew, you were flipped over onto your back, legs spread but also close to your chest as his cock slid between your folds. “I don’t mean to be impatient…” He paused, groaning as the back of his tip brushed over your clit, sending chills through his body. You were beyond wet, more especially now that he’d added his saliva to the mix. “I need you.”

You could feel the heat travel from the center of your chest, up your neck, to your face. His words felt genuine, even under the circumstances. He leaned in, kissing your lips, distracting you from him lining himself up with your entrance. The kiss was intoxicating. Enough so that it made your hip buck up into his, the tip of his cock consequently sliding into you. Your breath hitched, eyes rolling back at the unexpected stretch. “Patience is a virtue, beautiful.” He chuckled darkly. Was this the same man who couldn’t even give you time to flip around yourself? He was now telling you that patience was indeed a virtue, but it was clearly something neither of you had. “Fuck you feel so good..” He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since he flipped you over, and honestly, he didn’t know if he would be able to. You were gorgeous to him. Every single last inch. The wet sound of his hips harshly slamming into your filled the room, tuning out the muffled club music.

The way he was filling you up, stretching your walls deliciously, was absolutely mind boggling. He felt so good inside of you that you almost didn’t know what was up or down. Your nails dug into his forearms. Your jaw was slack, eyes threatening to close. “Fuck…. Yes.. there…” He had readjusted his hips, digging his knees into the couch, pushing your legs towards your armpits. You’d never been stretched like this, and you meant that in more than one way. He focused his eyes on the mess that was accumulating between the two of you. Your wetness was accompanied by your cream, his cock was dripping with your essence. The sound, the sight, the smell, the taste, everything was getting to him. You moaned loud, eyes glossed over, unable to hide your feelings from him anymore.

Your eyes were just as dark as his, both of you caught in the torrent of ecstasy. He leaned in, pecked at your lips, then your jaw, over your neck and chest, to your breast , draggin his tongue across the flesh before haphazardly sucking the pebbled bud into his mouth. Your hands flew to his hair. Fingers tugging on the sweat slicked curls at his nape. He moaned and that sent you barreling towards orgasm. You spread your legs wider, begging to feel more of him. He picked up his speed, his wet mouth dragging across your chest to give your other tit the same treatment. His ability to multitask was truly astounding.

Normally you’d put in some type of effort, hell-bent on not being some random man's pillow princess, but the way this man was putting in work all you could do was lie there and take it. You squeezed your already tight walls around him, making his hips stutter. “Don’t play games you know you won’t win.” He spoke gruffly, lips still pressed to your feverish skin. “Quit while you're ahead, baby.” That felt like a challenge. Part of you wanted to know just what he planned to do if you didn’t ‘quit while you were ahead’. So you tested it.

Every drag out of your cunt earned a clench. The first time he let it go, but the second time caused him to groan, eyes rolling into the back of his head. “You’re fucking killing me…” He grumbled, doing a few shallow and quick thrusts just to throw you off. He pulled out completely, tapping his slick riddled cock against your clit. A tiny drizzle of cum shooting from his tip and landing on your already messy pussy. “Look at how wet you have my dick. You even have me cumming a little already… fuck… you're perfect” He bit down on his swollen bottom lip, teasing you with just the tip of his dick. He enjoyed the way your cunt looked wrapped around him. You tried to wrap your legs around him, groaning when he caught on, pushing your legs back towards your chest.

“Nuh-huh, you think after all of that I’ll let that pretty pussy of yours get what it wants?” The sinister look he gave you as his lips curled into a smile would have been terrifying if it didn’t turn you on. “Not a chance, sweetheart.” He laughed innocently as if he didn’t just stuff you full of cock moments ago. “You’ll be lucky if I let you come.” He smirked, sitting back on his legs, he grabbed at your hips, swiftly turning you around. You didn’t even get a chance to protest. It happened faster than your mind could process. A few throw pillows were stuffed up under your stomach, successfully elevating your hips. “Fuck… would you look at that?”

You didn’t even know him well, but you could tell he was pleased with himself. He smacked both your cheeks before spreading them wide. Wild thoughts were running through his mind at the sight. He spit on your pussy before using his tongue to lap up all of the cream that was spread over it, your asshole, and your thighs. A man starved. That's what he ate like. It was your turn for your eyes to roll back, you gripped at the armrest, pushing your hips further into his face. Those plush lips in combination with that thick tongue? Heavenly. You could feel the coil in the bottom of your belly twist up and just as it was about to snap, hell pulled away with a soft chuckle.

You whined. You needed that release. “My turn…” You don't know what exactly came over him, but it was like he snapped. He slid back into your wanton cunt, causing your pussy to queef from suddenly being filled to the brim. You squealed, not used to your body making that sound. He placed his hand over the lower part of your back, just above your butt, pressing down to make you arch for him. And that's when all hell broke loose. This man had to be the spawn of the devil with the way he was after your soul. He was desperately trying to snatch your life force right out of your body with every deep thrust he gave you. Your walls fluttered around him, he moved his hands to your hips, nails digging into your skin as a way to ground himself. He was muttering things to himself, it honestly sounded like a bunch of gibberish to you. But then again, it was hard to concentrate on anything other than how hard he felt inside of you. “Fuck… this pussy is so good.” He groaned, pressing his hips flush against yours, hitting the deepest spot inside of you.

Your toes curled, vision turning white from the sensation. You didn’t even realize you were cumming until he pulled all the way out. “Please… please put it back in.” You begged, hole begging to be filled again, even though you just came. He obliged. He wanted to get off just as you had, but this time he wasn’t out for revenge, he slowly entered you, letting you feel every inch and vein. It had been a while since you last had some, and then it wasn’t much to write home about. This? Him? You’d shout it from the rooftops if you had to, this man’s dick game was impeccable. You moaned and writhed under him. He trached a hand up your sweat slick back, grabbing ahold of your neck and pulling you up and back towards him. His other arm wrapped around your tummy as he drug his lips over your shoulder, speaking a melange of your name and several curse words. He was in heaven. His heart pounded hard against his chest, any sounds but the ones that reverberated off the walls in this room were a non factor to him. He was here, at this moment, with the beautiful woman he spotted out in the crowd.

You hoped there was a hidden camera in this room that could pinpoint your time of death, because you could have sworn you ascended. Your tongue was hanging out of your mouth, eyes slightly closed, a severely fucked out expression on your face. You were dripping wet, walls still quivering around him, and he loved every bit of it. “You’re so fucking good, baby… so tight.. Wet… fuck..” His voice progressively got whinier, his end was near.  His hand moved from the back of your neck to the front, squeezing lightly. His conclusion was right on the tip of his tongue, the words begging to fall from his lips. His hips stuttered, his arm around your middle pulling you impossibly close. He gave a few sharp thrusts, “Fuck- baby, I-I’m gonna come… I’m gonna..” He cried out, once against pushing his pelvis completely against yours as he spilled his seed inside of your begging cunt. You moaned, the feeling of his warm cum painting your walls was enough to make them quiver again, threatening to overstimulate him. “Fuck, baby.. Too tight..” He spoke, while thrusting his cum deeper into your cunt. It took a spell of labored breaths and soft whimpers before he came down enough to pull his softening cock from inside of you. If he let you go right now you were sure you would fall face first into the cushions of this couch. 

You were blissed and fucked out, a crooked smile set on your face. He laid you down gently, watching your cunt to see if any of his seed dripped out, to see if he indeed fucked it deep enough. He smirked to himself when the only proof that he came inside of you was the small snail trail he broke when he pulled out. The room was silent for a while, the sound of the muted club music was no longer drowned out by the sound of sex. You’d close your eyes, honestly ready to knock out for the next couple hours if he let you.  He on the other hand had his eyes focused right on your pussy, still wet from the night's events. “My gosh… you are a dangerous, dangerous woman.” His dick twitched when you pulled your knees together to get a little more comfortable. He sighed, this just wouldn’t do. “I don’t usually do this… but.. I honestly don’t think I’m done with you for the night.” His words caused you to quickly open your eyes and turn around. Your eyes traveled from his face to check if he was serious, down to his semi-hard dick. “Would you mind… coming back to my place for.. Round two… or three?” 

Your eyes were wide. There was no way this man was serious. “Only if you are down. If not, we can hit the showers and I can escort you back to you-” You stopped him with a sensual kiss.

“Yes.” You spoke against his lips. Maybe being a bridesmaid paid off this time.

FIN

[straykeedz-recs]

Anti-hero ✶ sjy.

Pierced through the heart, but never killed.

Summary: Jake Sim has gained his status as Decelis University's "golden boy." Intelligent, a good track of extracurriculars and organization, and did I mention good-looking? He's the front-runner to become the batch's valedictorian, and everything seems to be perfect in that way.

"You need to get laid," his roommates pointed out one day, ruining his perfectly planned college life. Thinking that his roommates were just looking out for him, Jake found himself in a world that he seems to be unfamiliar with — having a fuck buddy, and that's with a little help from you, Decelis University's "golden girl."

✰ Song Inspiration: Anti-hero by Taylor Swift, Strong Girl by Niki, The Bolter by Taylor Swift (trust me, there’s a reason why this is my song inspo.)

✰ Word Count: 26.5k (damn.)

✰ Tags: Fuck buddies to lovers, no strings attached, plot with porn, a bit of fluff and angst, some hurt/comfort, college au, scandals and rumors, Jake’s POV (but there’s some POV switching somewhere), Jake Sim is a T, (he’s so serious with everything and it’s fucking hot tbh) reader has imposter syndrome, (actually reader is also a T), they have nicknames for each other, mentions of enhypen members, OC characters. Huh Yunjin and oc character as Jake’s roommate.

✰ CW: smut, plot with porn, sub! reader, dom! jake, BIG DICK JAKE RAHHHHHH, consensual noncon (proceed with caution.) choking, oral (m receiving) public sex, shower sex, car sex, praise, kinda dirty talk, pet names, fingering, unprotected sex (pls don’t do this), use of condom…once, creampies, aftercare, cockwarming, just filthy smut, they’re so chaotic during sex.

✰ Asul’s note: Jake’s story is here! I was so in love with his character in My Kink Is Karma, and here we are now. I've tried hard with this plot and is a bit unsatisfied so I hope you'll love his story. Warning but proceed with caution since there’s a part that explicitly shows consensual noncon. Read with caution. But shitty smut ahead since I gave up detailing it midway.

Also if you have read Heeseung and Jay’s story, (If you haven’t you can check their story!) Their gfs are also the reader, but I gave them names here in Jake’s story because they have a lot of cameos in this fic. (They’re still considered as y/n in their own story.) Yeah, kinda confusing start because this wasn’t really supposed to be a series from the start, but here we are! The fourth installment of Arcanum series! Enjoy reading! :D

You can check the other member's stories here: Jay | Sunghoon | Heeseung

✰ Taglist: @kiikiisblog @chuuyaobsessed @dearestdreamies @jakessrealwife @heeseungsgf26 @kamiliora @st4rg1rlies @fancypeacepersona @k1ttyjwon @yazmike @dulcetnostalgia

-

The last semester of the year had arrived. The air in Decelis falls coolly as spring season is about to arrive, mixing with the remnants of the cold winter, the university welcomed the students for the second semester of the academic year. 

Wearing their jackets and coats to their first day of class, Decelis University became warm as noise filled the campus. Students meeting their friends, teachers smiling as they greet their students welcome back, and couples holding hands like they’re in their own world. 

At one of the gates of Decelis, three students ran their way inside the campus, bright laughter escaping their lips as they stopped midway to catch their breath, not even caring for the students they halted on the walkway.

“Text us if you’re done okay?” Yunjin said, patting Jake’s shoulders. “We’ll be going now!”

“Bye guys,” Jake hugs his roommates before he turns around to walk towards an opposite direction — towards his department building. 

Clean and ironed uniform, his school id hung loosely around his uniform’s collar along with his neat tie which Jake, himself tied for a good minute. His square, black-rimmed glasses rested idly on his buttoned nose that complimented his overall visual. With the way he walked, his short black hair neat and proper, and how casual his smile was, it wasn’t hard for students to turn their head towards him. 

Sim Jaeyun or Jake Sim for others, is Decelis University’s “Golden Boy.” The top student of the engineering department, president of the student aid organization, a member of Decelis physics club, former soccer player — the list goes on.

No one can top his intelligence and achievements. Records full of 1 and a good moral track. He is considered as a well-disciplined student, that even the teachers love him because he’s not some top student who befriends teachers for the sake of grades. Jake was naturally intelligent and diligent in his studies. Not to mention, he has a warm aura around him, although Jake always wears a small smile or neutral expression, he is considered approachable among his peers. 

As he entered the classroom, eyes darted to him. Smile and warm greetings which he only reciprocated before sitting on the first row near the entrance. His usual seat wherein it’s enough for him to sprint out the moment the bell rings. 

With the last semester of their college life starting, professors are preparing them for all the possibilities — Latin honors, failed subjects due to unreasonable reasons, even suspension, anything that may happen in the span of five months. Jake could only listen to their professor, who also just happens to be the Dean of their department, explain everything that they should look forward to for their last days in college.

Jake, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be reacting largely compared to his classmates. His mind is thinking of his post-graduation plans — have a one-week beach trip with his friends. Go home to Australia for a break, then return to the city to review and take the board exam to get his engineering license. Get a job with a high-paying salary, and find a girlfriend somewhere there if he has time. All the usual shit that he had planned ever since he was a freshman. 

Jake has always been a planner. His perfect college life was curated based on his schedule and time, and so far, everything is coming into pieces. All he need was to not fuck-up his presidency term, attain latin honors, and follow his plan without any distractions or new ventures.

“We’re rooting for you Jake,” their department dean laughs. A bright smile was only Jake could give as the old man pats his back. “No one can top your excellence, not only in our department, but the whole university.”

“Thank you for the kind words sir,” Jake answered, having heard that since last year. 

“That valedictorian is for you, and I’m going to use all my powers to make sure that it’ll be yours,” with a short pat on his back, Jake watched as the Department Dean walked away. His smile immediately turns into a thin line as he returns back to his classroom.

Jake Sim never planned to become the valedictorian of their batch — nor did he work hard to become Decelis’ “Golden Boy.” It just so happens that he has a lot of extracurriculars, is smart, and probably has a good personality, hence, giving him that unofficial title. There were a lot of contenders for that title, that’s why Jake wondered why it was given to him. Maybe it just happens that everyone fawns over him. 

He didn’t mind the attention, but it did place a lot of pressure on him. It meant that everyone is watching every move he makes, and he knows being known meant one thing — one wrong move may cause your entire downfall. But it’s not like he’s going to do some rash actions, Jake knows he’s not stupid to put himself in trouble. 

After class, Jake finds himself in the club room of the student aid organization, which is just an information and help center for students and incoming students, except it’s being led by students. Jake volunteered to become part of it since it helped him tremendously when he was just a lost, foreign student back in his freshman year — never would he think that he’ll end up as its president. 

But it feels nice helping other students, everyone in the organization is a helping hand, and the overall vibe was healthy and light. That’s why instead of stressing himself with the grievances, Jake finds joy in the organization. 

As he opened the door, the place was a bit crowded. Some students need some help while his staff are busy helping them. Jake greets them warmly, asking if there’s any problem and so far, everything’s good. 

Jake sat by the table beside Jiwon, who’s the executive assistant of his team. A smile greeted him as he placed his bag down. 

“Most of them are just problems regarding enrollment and transfers, you know, the usual problem we encounter during the first few weeks of the sem,” the girl explained as soon as Jake sat on the table. Having worked together since freshman, they’ve memorized each other that Jiwon knew what to do without Jake giving her instruction.

“They’re fewer than last sem, thank god because last sem was stressful,” Jake muttered which only left a chuckle on Jiwon’s lips. 

“Well, we got new students last semester, that’s why it was stressful,” Jiwon replied. “Oh by the way, I’ll be clocking out around four-thirty.”

“Let me guess, you have a date with Heeseung?” Jake pointed out, and only a blush on the cheeks was her answer. “You know, you didn’t have to tell me all of this.”

“I have to, what if you keep looking for me!? You can barely function without me.” the girl teased making Jake smile. He knows himself that he can't function without his assistant.

“Shut up, I can handle all of this, go have fun with your date.”

Work continued until one by one, his staff told him that they’ll be going now. Same excuse from them — dates, hanging out with friends, even family events, which Jake doesn’t mind. He knows that the organization shouldn’t be their top priority. It’s just an extracurricular for extra credits and something that you can put in your work resume. 

Jake remained alone inside the club room. The soft lofi music coming from his laptop serves as a noise while he sorts the reports. The sun is about to set and he’s on the last grievance that they received today. After this, he’ll be meeting his roommates by the Pho stall for dinner. 

Jake looks towards the window, watching the campus life unfold in front of him. He sees a group of friends laughing with each other, some are by the benches eating some snacks. He watches as teachers run their way towards their next class, while some student couples are having too much display of affection. A bitter smile formed on his lips as he realized that he’s alone inside the club room.

Will his remaining months in Decelis be like this? Jake feels like his college life is missing something. Is it the thrill? The fun? But he has friends though. They go out and drink during their free time. He parties when he can. That’s the thrill right? Jake stopped his task, deeply pondering on his thoughts.

“And it irritates me,” Jake opened up. 

The coffee table is filled with opened bags of chips. Empty bottles of soju scattered on the floor, while cans of beer remained on the table. On the couch sat Yunjin, Aera, and Jake who are all huddled up, alcohol on their system.

“So let me get this straight,” Yunjin started, sitting upwards to glance at Jake. “You, Mr. Decelis University’s Golden Boy, is lacking something? Dude you’ve got it all, what else is missing!?”

“I don’t know either! That’s why I’m telling you guys this!” Jake frustratedly shouted.

Aera laughs loudly, before clapping her hands as she points at Jake. “I know what it is!”

“That sounds like a bad idea.” Jake commented.

“You need to get laid!” Aera delightedly announced.

Jake cringed, “Yeah, bad idea.”

“No it’s not! You probably have a lot of pent-up frustrations in your body! Jake, when was the last time you even jerked off?” Aera boldly asked, Jake scrunches his nose out of disgust while Yunjin laughs out loud. 

“We’re absolutely not going to talk about that.” he takes a chug on his beer while Aera rolls her eyes. 

“Come on, it’s scientifically proven that having orgasms can release serotonin or whatever happy hormones we have, but you get my point!”

Aera continued laughing, while Yunjin and Jake only remained quiet, convincing themselves that their roommate is so drunk that she started to blurt random stuff. 

“She’s just telling that because she has a boyfriend now,” Jake explained, before taking a few chips. 

“Well she’s not wrong,” Yunjin asked, making Jake side-eye her. “Having sex can be a form of stress reliever. I bet that you have a lot of stress in your body that parties and alcohol cannot relieve.”

“And you guys think that sex is the answer?”

“What else is the answer? You used to love sleeping around back when we were freshmen, you were so carefree back then and now, you look…so pent-up Jake. I know that you have a lot on your sleeve right now, but that’s probably why you don’t notice that you’re pent-up. You need to loosen up! Find romance and pleasure!” Aera spoke enthusiastically. 

“I am not getting myself a girlfriend during the last semester of my college, do you know that college couples tend to break up after graduation?” Jake stated.

“And I hope that doesn’t happen to me and Jay, but Jake, you don’t need a girlfriend, maybe you just need someone who you only exclusively hookup with.” Aera rebutted.

“Like a fuck buddy?” Yunjin asked.

“Yeah, a fuck buddy! There’s nothing wrong with it, you have a fuck buddy Yunjin right?” Aera pointed out. 

“Oh right, I can vouch for that. Remember Chaewon? Yeah, we were fuck buddies since sophomore.” Yunjin casually shared, making Jake glance at her, surprised. 

“Up until now? I thought you two were together?” and that sentence made Yunjin laugh.

“We’re not. It’s a no-string attached agreement. We only meet each other to have sex, that’s the agreement! No dates, no emotional attachment. Just sex.” Yunjin explained. 

Jake becomes quiet for a moment. His roommates made some points. Maybe he does need to get laid, or have sex, or maybe find a fuck buddy who can relief all his stress. Seeing that it doesn’t affect Yunjin at all with her long-time fuck buddy, maybe it can be applied to him too. 

He’s not sure if it’ll work, but there’s no harm in trying, right? His roommates may be chaotic most of the time, but they know him from some angles that he doesn’t notice. 

“So, how do I even find that?” Jake asked, making his roommates freeze.

“Wait, you’re seriously going to do it?” Yunjin asked, appalled.

Jake shrugs, “well, if yours works, maybe it’ll work for me? I hope so?”

“Just go to a dating app, a lot of students use that — wait, let’s set it up for you.” Yunjin suggested, and the next thing they knew, they installed a popular dating app called Blind. Both roommates helped in creating Jake’s profile, something that will make him look decent, not just some random fuckboy. 

“Holy shit, this is so exciting! You’re finally getting some action Jake Sim!” Aera excitingly shouts, shaking Jake’s shoulder which only made the three of them laugh.

-

Jake stared at a profile of a girl. She’s fine, pretty, and shorter than him. She’s not from Decelis but she’s alright. He wondered if he should swipe left or right for a minute before swiping to the left. 

He found it impressive how Blind can show him preferences, starting from their height up to their intentions on the app. Yunjin wrote his profile as someone who’s looking for something casual, stating that if he placed that if he’s there for a hookup, he’ll end up looking like a horndog — which he wasn’t. 

Jake’s been in the app since last night. Yunjin helped him picked some girls along with Aera, and one thing he learned was that it was hard to find the right girl that he could ask to be his fuck buddy. He had matched with some other girls, took the courage to flirt (though most of the time Yunjin was the one who’s writing the message,) but it seems like it’s not working on his side.

“Hey pres!” a feminine voice greets, startling Jake who tightly grips on his phone.

Jake immediately closed his phone before looking up to see you standing there in front of him. You have a wide smile on your face. Makeup neat with an excessive amount of blush but it suits your round cheeks. Your black shoulder bag hangs on your left shoulder along with the trinkets and keychains on its handle.

If Jake Sim was Decelis University’s Golden Boy, you’re the female version of him — the Golden Girl. A senior communications student, you’re one of the top students of your department. You have a bright and friendly aura around you. During sophomore year, you welcomed students back when you were a radio jock in Decelis 1009 radio station which also led you to opportunities to host a lot of school events.

You’re also part of the student aid, a huge helping hand to other students that you’ve become its vice president this term. Last year, you were hailed as Decelis University’s “Selene.” which was a pageant to become Decelis University’s official student model and image. With your beauty and brains, along with your popularity, you’ve won the heart of every student and staff in the university. Which also hailed you the golden title. 

Although you and Jake hold the title, the two of you were never linked with each other. Both living in two different worlds, you two were only acquainted due to the student aid organization. Jake finds you nice, a bit talkative, but he sees that you have a lot of confidence and boldness in you. 

“You weren’t here yesterday,” Jake said sternly.

“I did remember sending you a message that I had a short interview at 1009 radio station,” you grinned before glancing at his phone. “You seem to be busy with something.”

“It’s nothing.” Jake answered immediately.

You raised an eyebrow, “Nothing really? Scrolling through a dating app during class hours? That’s so not you pres.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “How did you —”

“Funny, at first thought, someone is impersonating you but it really is you,” you said, hands resting on your hips as you looked at Jake teasingly. 

“What?” the boy asked, surprised.

You let out a small laugh before grabbing your phone. You opened your phone and showed Jake its screen — a screenshot of his Blind profile. You noticed how his eyes widened further, but as he glanced at you, his expression became neutral once again. 

“You’re there too?” Jake blurted out, and you amusingly tilted your head. 

“Why wouldn’t I be there? I use it when I’m bored and pent-up, it’s a place for hook-ups, not all are looking for serious relationships here.”

“What makes you think I’m looking for a serious relationship in Blind?” Jake rebutted. 

Now, it was your turn to be surprised. “You weren’t?”

Jake stares at you for a minute. He wonders if it’s worth sharing to someone he’s not that close to, but you seem to be open to this topic so he only clicks his tongue as he looks at his phone. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but my friends, they convinced me that I need to get laid because I’m all stressed and they think sex is the solution.”

You stifled a laugh, but Jake’s expression never faltered, so you held yourself back but your grin was too obvious. “And you believed them?” 

“Never know until proven true, so yeah, here I am scrolling through hundreds of profiles until I find a decent girl who’s I don’t know, won’t be intimidated to have sex with me,” Jake casually explained. 

“I can do it for you.” you casually replied.

That’s when Jake glances back at you, who blinked at him innocently. He was waiting for you to say that you were joking, but you only smiled at him. 

“I’m not kidding pres, instead of finding another stranger who you have to make connections with, why don’t you go with someone who, let’s just say, is already acquainted with you?”

You made good points with your reason. The first problem Jake faced was finding a decent girl who he won’t be awkward with. Sex is still intimacy, and knowing that it’s been so long since he even touched a girl, he knows that this is a challenge to him. 

With you proposing to him, he quickly thought about it for a minute. You, who is ironically the girl version of him, is offering to be his fuck buddy. You seem to be chill about this one, and it did surprise him that you’re into this kind of setup. 

Noticing that the atmosphere has becoming too quiet, you only cleared your throat before saying, “I’ll give you time pres, but my offer still stands —”

“Wait,” Jake halted you immediately. “Sorry, I’m just really new to this kind of setup. This doesn’t make you uncomfy? Especially when we’re orgmates too.”

“Whatever happens inside the room, remains in the room. That’s my rule.” you smiled. “We can talk more about our setup of course, we’re not only complying with my rules, you should set boundaries too.”

“Okay,” Jake breathes, nodding as it seems like he’s set with having you as his fuck buddy. “How soon should we…you know?”

But you only laughed, “so you’re taking my offer huh?”

“This is better than finding some girls on Blind.” Jake reasoned out. “Let’s talk more tonight? How’s that sound?”

“Already? I don’t mind, if you’re already down to fuck, but you need to buy condoms for us,” you winked. “We got to stay safe pres.”

Jake would never have thought that conversation would lead him to cleaning their dorm. Their floor has always been clean since the three of them are clean freaks, but Jake has to make sure that it’s squeaky clean before you arrive. 

It was his first time clocking out of the organization on time too. His roommates coming home to him doing a last minute vacuuming on the floor. That’s when they realized what the hell was going on with their only male roommate. 

“I can’t believe that we were just talking about it last night and you already found one,” Aera spoke up while tying her shoes. 

“And here you are, kicking us out because your fuck buddy is coming,” Yunjin fakingly sobs.

To ease your first meeting, Jake bribed his roommates to have the flat all by himself for that night, (and fortunately, they agreed, knowing that they advised him to do so in the first place.) Jake knows where the two will end up staying the night, so it’s still a win for the three of them. 

“I’ll treat you guys with ice cream tomorrow, don't worry,” Jake compensated, sitting on the couch as he had changed into a shirt and sweatpants. His legs thumping nervously as he glanced at the clock. It’s almost 7:30 in the evening, which was your agreed time. 

And before his roommates could go, a ring on the doorbell stopped the three of them. Aera, who’s just near the door, opens it, surprising you who’s standing in front of the door. 

“Y/n hi!” Aera brightly greeted, having familiar with your face, before turning back at Jake, mouthing “what the fuck!?” 

Yunjin stood there frozen, surprised that Jake’s fuck buddy is none other than Decelis’ golden girl, talking about small world. It really has to be you out of the thousands of available girls in the city. She gasps in disbelief while Jake stood up from his seat. 

“Come in,” Jake gestured. Aera opens the door wider for you to step inside, both his female roommate stared at you making you wary. It didn’t cross your mind that Jake had female roommates, and that made you somehow confused with your setup with him. 

“Hi I’m Yunjin, and this is Aera, we’re Jake’s roommates, but don’t worry! We’ll be going out, you have the place all by yourself,” Yunjin greeted all of the sudden, and you felt embarrassed intruding on their place just because you can’t offer yours. 

“Oh no, I’m sorry for intruding too,” you immediately apologized but Yunjin only smiled as she and Aera grabbed their bags. 

“No worries for us! It’s been a while since Jake brought a girl to our place, so enjoy! We’ll see you guys at school!” Aera laughed, waving goodbye to the two of them before leaving the place. 

You stood there frozen before you turned around to see Jake groaning in disbelief. 

“So,” you cleared your throat. “Why didn’t you just ask them —”

“Aera is Jay’s girlfriend, and Yunjin’s a lesbian.” Jake quickly explained. 

“Oh.” you’re not familiar with most of the students in Decelis. But you did remember that there was gossip last semester that Arcanum’s Jay was dating someone, and turns out, it’s Jake’s roommate. While you do recognize Yunjin since she’s part of Decelis Theater. 

“They’re the ones who told me to get laid.” Jake added. “They’re also like sisters to me, that’s why.” 

Another “Oh” escapes your lips. You thought that it’s those male friends of Jake that convinced him to this setup. Now, you found yourself in a more awkward situation. 

“Do you want some ramen?”

A moment of silence hovered between the two of you before you spoke. “What?”

“You seem tense, have you eaten dinner yet?” he offered, sounding genuine with his words. 

“Really — I mean, ramen?” you laughed because of his words. Usually, your casual hookups is just you showing up to your hookup’s place, fuck, and then go home. The usual quickie or sex wherein both bodies do the work, while your mouth sucks their dick instead of talking to them. No string attached, only bodily pleasures, and it works all the time.

But then again, this is the first time you and Jake will be meeting. Plus, this isn’t just a hookup, this is a fuck buddy set-up — a temporary monogamous situation for you. So you agreed, and that’s why you found yourself by the kitchen, watching Jake grab a pack of Buldak Carbonara, with him sharing you a homemade recipe of his. 

“So, how about we talk about it?” Jake suggested as he waits for the noodles to cook. “How do we even do this? I’m sorry, I’m really new to this.”

You only smile at him. He still maintains his professional talking voice that he’s been using to everyone else. Your mind started to wonder what would his voice sound like in bed — would he be making sounds that’s far from the serious and stoic Jake Sim?

“It’s okay, I’m here to help you,” you assured. “Let’s start from the very start. Do you want this to be an exclusive thing? Just the two of us?”

Jake became quiet for a second, “I’m going to keep it exclusive for me but I don’t mind if you sleep with other guys.” 

“Okay, since you’re going to stay loyal, I’m going to stay loyal too,” you smiled, hoping that you’re not going to regret it. “This is a no-string attached set-up, we’ll only meet for sex, and it has to be mutually consented too, is that okay with you?”

Jake only nods, busying himself with his cooking. The smell of the buldak sauce steaming inside the kitchen. You stopped for a second because Jake hands you a bowl of his carbonara buldak risotto. Murmuring your thanks, you took a bite on it and had your eyes wide open. 

“This tastes good,” you shared, while Jake quietly smiles before eating his own food. 

“Oh by the way, we shouldn’t do things like this,” you added. 

“Why not?”

“Because this is too wholesome! We’re here to fuck, not act like lovers.” 

“Alright, what else?”

“Any kinks you have in your mind?”

Jake almost spat out his ramen. He looks at you who only gave him an innocent stare. 

“Why? If we’re going to fuck, then we should atleast make each other feel good!” you pointed out before a thought crosses your mind. “Oh my god don’t tell me you’re still a virgin?”

“No, I’m not,” Jake coughs. “I just forgot what I’m into.”

That’s when you let out another laugh. “Jake Sim you’re really something else. When was the last time you even had sex?”

Jake became quiet for a moment. “Uhm…summer before junior year.” he barely recalled it. It was just a drunken one night stand. On a three-day-and-two-night trip to the beach with his friends. He was drunk, flirted with a stranger, and had sex, and before the sun had risen, he left the hotel room. 

“Woah, that long huh?” you smiled. “You never thought of having a girlfriend?”

“It’s proven that college couples tend to break up after graduation,” Jake repeated. At the same time, Jake thinks that he couldn’t prioritize commitment when he has a lot of things to focus on. 

“Not now, but during that duration,” you pointed, and that question made Jake quiet. 

“I did like someone back in junior year,” he confessed. “But she — someone else got her first.”

“Do you still like her?”

“Of course not anymore,” Jake only smiled bitterly. Regrets rushing into his heart. “She’s my friend’s girlfriend — they got together last year coincidentally. From there, I threw away my feelings immediately.”

“She must be lucky that you like her.”

“I feel like she’s happier with my friend now.” 

Silence faltered inside the kitchen. You only stared at the half-full bowl before taking another bite. You couldn’t even think of another word to say. 

“What about you?” Jake asked, making you glance at him. “What about your kinks? Let’s not delve into our lovelife since we’re not here to act like lovers.”

A faint blush rushed on your cheeks, usually things like this will be discussed during sex, during the heat of the moment, so it felt weird saying it out of blue. “It’s embarrassing.”

“How can I make you feel good when I don’t know what you want?”

“Fine, I’m submissive. Use me however you want, rough that it’ll leave me limping. Choke me, that’ll make me cum, but don’t you ever use degrading words, that’ll make me cry.” 

“So, that means you’re into praise? Like good girl or something?”

You became quiet. Jake quickly observes how you stared at him, eyes wide. You can feel your heart beating fast, words stuck at your throat as Jake’s words keep replaying in your mind. 

“That fast? I’m surprised,” Jake teasingly said. “What else?” 

“Let’s talk about it the other time, but that summarizes what I want during sex,” you explained. 

Jake hums for a moment. “Alright. Then should we discuss our setup somewhere more, private?”

Your heart beats faster than before. You only nod as both you and Jake left the bowls on the sink, before following him towards his room. 

You’re used to a guy’s room. The smell, the mess, and probably unwashed sheets for weeks. You didn’t care about it during sex, but after sex? Those guys are getting blocked. Personal hygiene is your number one must, and if Jake Sim’s room is a mess, then he’ll just have to kiss this setup bye-bye. 

As Jake opens his room, you’re surprised to see a clean and neat room that smells like sandalwood and men’s perfume. His bed is neatly done, bedsheets in navy blue and white. Side table filled with nothing but a night lamp. On a corner is a pc set-up and a study table where his books are placed on a small shelf along with some pencil holder and his laptop. 

Of course this is Jake Sim that we’re talking about. He holds a good reputation in your university so he’s likely cleaner than the rest of the guys you’ve slept with before. 

Jake sits on the edge of the bed, watching you look around his room, probably amazed by it. Then, you turned around and smiled at him before sitting next to him. 

“So, anymore questions?” you asked. 

“You told me that you can’t offer your place, you live with your parents?” Jake asked. 

“Not my parents, but my older sister. It’s a one bed apartment room, that’s why I can’t offer mine. I don’t mind hotel rooms but I don’t do cheap ones Jake, so if you want it, we can do it here,” you explained, then another thought flew inside your mind. “Why? Do you like public sex or something?”

Jake only shakes his head. “I’m not going to throw my roommates everytime we do it, so being quiet is an option.”

You stared at his lips before glancing back at his stare, you shifted your body towards him, knees touching each other as you lean close to him. “Don’t worry, I can be quiet.” 

You two stare at each other for a minute. No one said a thing. You were waiting for him to say another word, while he only slowly observed you.

Then, Jake teasingly grins, which is a new, unfamiliar expression for you, “you seem eager to get fucked tonight.” 

“If you don’t want it, I don’t mind,” you smirked. “We can take things slow pres.”

That nickname. That damn nickname that always electrifies him. Jake’s ears deafened as the vixen smile on your lips widened. 

“I bet you want to call me other names,” Jake said, suddenly there’s a change in the atmosphere. You held your breath as his hands gently rested on your thighs, thumb caressing your bare skin while the smile on his lips became a smirk. 

“Pres? Sir? Daddy? While I call you a good girl as you take my dick inside your tiny little hole? You want that baby?” his deep, raspy voice sent chills through your spine. Your heart started beating fast, minding starting to float — wondering what it feels like to hear more of his heavent-sent voice praising you. 

But you didn’t want to back down that easily, so a scoff in disbelief was your answer.

“Maybe it’s you who wants to be called those names,” you spat back at him. Hands finding its way towards his jawline, your sharp, acrylic nails cupping his cheeks while Jake remains unfazed, his eyes shifted immediately to a bored one.

It’s dangerous. You’re convinced that Jake’s dangerous for you. He’s not rushing anything. Guys usually just throw you to bed and fuck you senselessly, while Jake only sat there, lazy eyes staring at you. Tempting and alluring like he’s teasing you to take the lead.

He doesn’t move. He’s patient with you, like he’s waiting for your next move. And it only leaves you impatient and wetter than before. You only glanced at his lips, luscious and thick, thumb grazing on its soft skin, cursing why Jake Sim has to be so perfect?

“You want it?” he whispered to you, voice crashing in you like a siren. 

“Please…” you only breathed, tone high-pitched almost on the edge of whining that Jake chuckled darkly because of it. 

A throb on your heart was all you felt as he crashed his lips on yours. Gently, he cups your face as he tilts his head, pressing his lips as it starts moving to get a taste of you. You kissed him back with much force, lips expertly responding to his kiss.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck before you moved to his lap, hips immediately moving against his thigh to feel him underneath, only for Jake to groan against your mouth. The sudden movement of your hips flinches him. 

Jake knows that it’s been a while since he had sex, he barely recalls when was the last time that he had masturbated. Due to his hectic schedule and tired body, it never crossed in his mind to pleasure himself. He’d rather sleep than rub it away.

Maybe his roommates were right, his pent-up frustration is just him being sexually frustrated. Maybe it’s the peer pressure too. While his peers are living their life in adventures and parties, his college life becomes too nerdy and academic-focused that it leaves him too serious to deal with emotional attachments like love or pleasure. 

But in Jake’s mind, what’s the point? Can he even have a girlfriend when he himself is too tired with his other priorities? Aera was right to advise that he just needs to get laid, at least with the no-strings attachment, he doesn’t have to deal with its aftermath. 

His hands find its way through your hair, brushing it softly until he tugs it out of nowhere, earning a moan from you. He pulls your face away from him — his stare at you menacing and that both knew that something awakened in Jake.

But it only made you needy, biting your lips before crashing your lips onto him, rough and aggressive which he reciprocated, hips bucking upwards to meet your clothed cunt. His tongue slipped out of his and slid its way inside yours, battling inside your mouth as whimpers escaped from you.

You pulled away from him. Eager for more, you could only tug his hair, staring at him darkly and boldly. “Don’t hold back on me,” you challenged. “I’m not fragile Jake Sim, let all your frustrations out on me.”

That was the trigger. The way you begged for him, and recalling all the kinks that you said to him. He found you not only bold but also a pleaser. — and that made him want you to writhe underneath his touch.

What is it like to have the golden girl on her knees and worship him? “Get on your knees,” Jake ordered. Almost throwing you away from his lap. You scurried your way down to the floor, knees touching the soft rug underneath as Jake stood up. Hands caressing your head as you look up at him, round sparkling eyes that’s ready to submit to him. 

“Show me how good you are at pleasing a guy.” Jake unties the drawstrings of his sweatpants, pulling it down until it hits the floor.

You only stared at the tent on his boxer, eyes filled with curiosity on his cock, making you glanced back at Jake. 

“Come on, show pres how good you are, vice,” he smirked, and the nickname only sent chills to your cunt. Never would you think he’ll give a good rebut with your nickname for him.

But you’re used to this. That’s why in one big tug, you pulled down his boxer, eyes wide at his hard length. Out of all the dicks you’ve seen, this might be the biggest you’ve ever seen. It’s beautiful, looking straight out of a porn video. Its mushroom tip is enough to tear your pussy apart. You unknowingly let out a small mewl as you wrapped your hands around it, stroking it lightly before you sinked it inside your mouth.

You wasted no time. Licking all the length that your mouth could reach. Cheeks hollow as you suck it in and out before releasing it with a loud pop. strings of saliva connecting your mouth and its tip. You lightly stroke it, teasing it around your fingers as you squeeze its tip, feeling the way it twitches as you do the action. 

You looked up to Jake and saw how unamused he is. Like he’s not satisfied with it, so you slowly let out your tongue. Giving soft kitten licks around his cock without breaking eye contact with him. You can see how he’s holding back, so in one swift motion, you swallow his cock once again and start sucking it in a fast motion. 

In contrast, Jake is slowly losing his mind. His cock is has become sensitive, soft groans started escaping his lips as you continue bobbing your mouth in and out. It’s warm and tight, and he loved the way your tongue licked along your movement. 

He bucked his hips to meet your mouth, a whimper escaping your lips as he continued thrusting it, loving the way his tip hits the back of your throat. That’s when he decided to pull out of your mouth, dick twitching as you only had your brows furrowed. 

“What happened —” you weren’t able to finish your sentence when Jake pulled you towards the edge of the bed, your back hitting against it as Jake stood in front of you. Its erected cock just an inch away from your mouth. 

“Open your mouth, tongue out,” Jake ordered using his usual professional tone. You’re not going to deny that it just sent your cunt throbbing. As you opened your mouth with your tongue out he slammed his cock inside yours. The sudden action caused you to bump your head against the side of the bed. Jake holds his dick inside you for a few seconds, feeling it twitch as Jake groans in satisfaction. 

“Fuck —” Jake moans, finding hold on his bed as his hips started to fuck your throat roughly. His tip hitting the back of your throat that it’ll leave your voice hoarse tomorrow. His thrust was erratic, you’re slowly feeling yourself dizzy by the way his dick suffocated you.

Your head continued bumping against the bed and mattress while your hands could only grip against the rug as your legs started to writhe. Your pussy’s throbbing that it hurts, wanting to touch it but you’re patient as you let Jake use you first. 

A gagging whimper escapes your lips as Jake sheathes inside you once again, holding it for a few seconds before pulling out and thrusting inside you again. 

“Look at you good girl, taking my cock so well,” Jake smirked, his thrust has becoming sloppy as he can feel his dick twitching, readying himself to cum, he pounds into you relentlessly and he swore that he never felt this fucking good.

“Fuck, drink my cum, take it,” he breathlessly moans, thrusting a few times until he felt his orgasm crash. The feeling was so new that his loud groan echoed around the room. Jake grips on the sheets tightly as his stomach tightens, hips pushing forward to sandwich you between him and the side of the bed. You couldn’t escape, eyes rolling upwards as his cum spilled downwards your throat, forcing you to drink the bittersweet liquid. Choking as the mouthful of cum was too much that your eyes started to water while drool dripped out of your mouth. 

Jake pulls out his twitching cock, still hard and aching while you gasp for air. Slowly, you can feel his hands on your hair before he pulls your chin upwards to look at him. Smiling at you devilishly like he’s proud to see your messed-up face with drool and cum on your lips.

“You did good,” Jake mumbled and you could only whine from the praise. 

“Don’t worry pretty girl, you’ll get a reward from me,” and before you could say any word, Jake lifted you up to his bed. He cages you between his arms and glances at him.

His hands went tracing the outline of your body, towards your stomach until it reached the button of your shorts, but before he could even open it, you called him out, eyes darting at you immediately. 

“You’re not going to eat me,” you told him. “Nope, I don’t do that.”

Jake’s face distorted into a confused one. “You’ll let my dick inside your mouth but not the other way around?”

“I find it weird!” you reasoned out, before grabbing his hands. Seeing its long, slender fingers along with the pulsing veins brought an idea in you. “Look, it’s either you just drill your dick inside me or use your fingers, just not your mouth, I’m not going to let a man’s mouth near my private area.” 

Jake could only laugh in disbelief. Someday, he’ll get you to let him eat you out, but for now, he’ll just let his fingers do the work. 

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered, before turning around to place his glasses on his side table, taking off his shirt and kicking his sweatpants out of his ankles. 

Jake turns around to see you sprawled on the bed. He stopped for a second. God, you look like a goddess with your body, but what amazes Jake more is your confidence as you only gave him a seductive smile. Your nipples were already erect against your breasts, which Jake unconsciously grabs the left side, fondling with it as his thumb grazes on it, sending shivers to you.

Slowly, he pushes you down the mattress, sitting beside you as his hands trailed all over your body. Hitching your breath as you watched his gorgeous hands feather on your stomach and stop just right on your pussy. 

“Keep your legs open for me,” he ordered and you did so. Legs sprawled as his fingers slid on your core. A dark chuckle escaping his lips — “fuck, you’re soaking wet already, did you got wet sucking me of?”

“Yes,” you mewled. “Please Jake — need you.”

But Jake hushes you, slender fingers sliding up and down its lips. “Stay still for me or you won't get to cum.”

And a soft whine escapes your lips. “That’s not fair.” 

The next thing you knew, his free hand was around your neck, a moan escaping on your lips as his fingers dipped on the right place.

“Stay still.” he said with a serious tone and you could only whine as Jake rubs your clit in a circular motion. His hands dipped further on the side of your neck, strong arms keeping you still as you shut your eyes while his fingers do magic in pleasuring you. 

“Jake —” another moan escapes your lips as you feel him slide two fingers easily inside you. Immediately pumping in and out before pulling it out. Opening your eyes to see Jake licking your slick out of his lips, his eyes locked at you as he removed his fingers out of his mouth with a small pop.

“You taste fucking good and you’re not going to let me taste it?” he teased, you could only shake your head as answer and Jake understood it already — he’ll be patient, but for now, it’s all about pleasuring you. 

He places his fingers inside you again, making you arch your back as he slides his fingers in and out, scissoring your walls open making you moan as both hands are doing god’s work to make you feel good. You watched as his left hand remained in your neck, holding you down so that you won’t move, large hands and pink knuckles wrapped around you making you hold onto it. 

“You like my hand that much?” Jake laughs, and a breathy “yes” was all you could answer. 

A loud cry left escaped your lips as Jake inserted another finger inside your pussy. You never tried having three fingers shoved inside you and it only stretched you wider. His pace became faster as it began to pump in and out, curling at a spot that made you legs shake — that’s when Jake knew. He remained at his pace, abusing the spot as he heard your uneven breathing, feeling you writhe against his hold. 

“Need to stretch you wide baby,” Jake darkly taunted, leaning against your ears as he whispered. “Going to make sure your pretty pussy can take my whole cock.”

That took you to cum, legs shaking as his finger fastened its pace when he felt your pussy clamming. You cry out his name making him slam your head deeper on the mattress using his other hand, tightening his grip that the pleasure from both actions only made you moan mutedly. 

Jake removes both his hands from you, legs still shaking as you try to catch on your breath. You closed your eyes as you felt Jake’s large hands patting your hair as a form of comfort, he leaned and kissed your lips which you immediately reciprocated, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck while you two got lost in each other’s taste. 

“Fuck me please,” you whispered against your kisses, and you could only feel Jake smile before leaving another breathy kiss on you. He separates from you as you watch as Jake grabs something from his drawer, you leaned on to see him sheathe the condom on his shaft. 

He glances back at you, and your heart starts beating fast. Damn it. You curse internally. Wondering how the fuck Jake still looks so fucking handsome despite the disheveled hair and flushed face. You can’t help but rub your thighs together as your eyes remain at Jake. 

He’s handsome, smart, and serious. He respects you but at the same time complies with your kinks. Even his performance and dick exceeded your expectations. You feel like you’ve hit the jackpot when you offered him to be his fuck buddy. 

“What position do you want?” he asked.

“Missionary,” basic, but you wanted the guy to do all the work. Smiling back at him as you asked his preference. 

“I’m okay with any, let’s just go with yours,” Jake said, smiling before pulling your legs towards him. 

You only lay down as Jake stretches your legs open, resting it on his strong thighs as he kneels in front of you. His eyes staring at your wet pussy before he positions his cock on your entrance. You could only bite your lips as you watch his tip disappear inside your cunt. Feeling it stretch your walls, already clasping for more, making Jake groan. 

“Shit — you want my dick so bad?” 

“More — Jake, please,” you whined. 

Jake slides his dick inside you within a second, earning a sultry moan from you as this is the first time you ever felt so full. He started his pace fast immediately, both hands on your waist as he lifted you like a ragdoll. Pounding on your warm walls, moaning with the way your pussy clamps his cock. 

“Jake — ugh — rougher please —” you weren’t able to continue your words when Jake wraps his hands on your neck once again. Followed by a sharp thrust, Jake leans over you with a serious expression as his grip tightens, knocking you out of breath making both your hands grab onto it, trying to grasp for air but at the same time, your pussy tightens around his cock. 

“You’re going to take my cock however you like, got it?” he ordered and you could only cry as his thrust became rougher like you wanted it. Eyes rolling in pleasure as he continued to abuse your holes.

Jake’s thrust hits right where you want it, his moans dragging out of his lips as he shut his eyes harshly. The pleasure was becoming too intense for him, your walls were sucking him harshly, warm and soft against his hard length. He can feel stomach tightening, dick twitching as a sign that he’s going to cum. 

Jake choked on his breath as he continued pounding inside your pussy, his shaft sliding in and out as your cries became louder. If it wasn’t enough, Jake pushes you down the bed, fingers pressing hard on each side making you arch your back. He can feel your legs kicking its way out, your hands trying to remove his hand around your neck but he only tilts his head in amusement, hips never stopping its movement.

“Jake! Fuck! —” you started babbling incoherent words. Eyes wet with tears as you tried to get away from his grasp. 

“You’re gonna cum now?” Jake amused, using his free hand to circle his thumb on your clit, earning a loud cry from you. 

“Please — I want —”

“You can cum pretty girl,” he whispered darkly. “You did so good, so you deserve to cum.”

You let out a muted moan as you stop writhing from his touch but instead, you started shaking. Jake lets go of his hand from your neck and replaces it with his lips, leaving feathered kisses as he continues to thrust inside your tight pussy. 

“Jake hhhh — too much!” you pleaded, feeling sensitive from your orgasm.  

“Just wait alright? You’re a good girl, you can hold it for me right?” he convinced, and those words only went straight to your abused cunt, nodding as Jake thrusts became uneven. It didn’t take a while before he let out a pornographic moan as he cums inside the condom. 

Jake was catching his breath as he lay down beside you. The heated atmosphere was followed by a quiet yet awkward silence. The two of you only stared at the ceiling, energy dying down along with the tension around.

“Woah” he could only say, both of you letting out a small laugh after sinking in what just happened between the two of you. 

Your eyes are drilling holes on the ceiling as you feel satisfied yet wanting for more. The sex was intense. You loved the way his cock abused your hole but it felt like it wasn’t enough. 

“Jake —” you hesitated for a second, looking at him who immediately caught your words.

“You want another round?” he asked, almost smiling. 

“Please?” your eyes pleading innocently that it made Jake’s dick twitch. A sharp inhale escapes his lips as your hand reaches for his half-hard cock, stroking it lightly before pulling the soiled rubber away.

“Want you more,” you said softly like a kid asking for candy.

“Of course pretty girl,” a kiss on your temple was all you got before he reached his drawer once again — but his actions stopped when you pulled his arms. 

“I want it raw,” you said. “Want you to fill me. Please Jake, we’re safe. I’m on birth control.”

Jake felt like his ears deafened with his words. You look at him with the pout on your lips becoming visible as you continue to stroke his dick, palming his tip and squeezing it at every chance you can. 

“Fuck — you want it raw?” Jake asked in disbelief. 

You nodded feverishly. You never tried raw. Even though you’re using birth control, you still need to be extra careful, that’s why condom is a must when it comes to your hookups. 

But with Jake, something in you is asking to be impaled by him raw. You wanted his semen to fill you up full and warm. You want to feel his seeds inside you — like how it felt earlier on your mouth. 

It didn’t take a second for Jake to grab you by the waist and flip you. You had your stomach flat while Jake raises your hips, ass up in the air as his hands are on the curve of it. A sudden slap on your right cheek made you whine, and if it wasn’t enough — Jake shoved his dick inside your pussy without a warning. 

His hands gripped on your waist tightly, thrusting in and out harshly, watching as his dick disappeared inside your pussy while your ass bounced against his groin. Jake groans at the sight as your walls felt more heavenly without the condom. 

“Should’ve said earlier —” Jake grunts. “I’ll fill you full baby, you’re going to be a good girl and take all my cum right vice?” 

“Fuck —”

“Look how you’re sucking pres’ dick, you really fucking want this do you?” he pulls a fistful of your hair making you whine in pleasure. 

“Yes! God! fill me up pres!” you shouted loudly. You felt another slap on your ass as Jake continued drilling his dick inside you. Hitting your deepest part that no one had ever reached. 

“Take it like the good girl you are.”

The room smelled like sex and sweat. Bodies slapping together echoed around the room along with each other’s moans and whimpers. The continuous action caused the bed to creak, headboard slapping against the wall, but both of you were too lost in the pleasure to care. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Jake spoke, hand letting go of your hair making you fall flat on the pillow. 

Your only response was a cry, before feeling your stomach coil again. Cumming unannounced with continuous, unstable whimpers followed by a moan. Hands shaking as it grips on the sheets so tight that your knuckles are turning red. 

Jake came shortly after, letting out a loud groan as his hold on your waist tightened, fingers pressing on the skin making you whine in pain. His warm seeds started to fill your insides, making you whine loudly as he dumped every last bit of his semen inside you. Thrusting sloppily until his energy is all drained-up. 

Jake pulls out, cock dirtied with both of your cum, he could only stare at your hole as his cum dripped out of it. Unconsciously gathering it using his fingers before shoving it inside your pussy once again, a soft whimper escaping from you before he pumps in and out until he is fully satisfied with it. 

You shifted to lay down on your bed, which Jake followed, brushing the sweaty strands on your forehead. “You did good.” he whispered to you, hands massaging your legs and knees while you closed your eyes to his relaxing touch. 

“I should go,” you said while your eyes remained closed. 

“Wait, clean up first —”

“It’s okay, I can handle it myself,” you insisted. That’s when you sat up on his bed before looking at him. “No aftercares okay? It’s too wholesome for me.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, “it’s not wholesome, it’s decency. I’m not going to let you go home with my cum dripping inside you.”

“What if I want that?” you teased, but Jake only chuckled on your words before scooping you up, startling you that you could only hold on his shoulders. 

The two of you reach their bathroom, Jake makes you sit on the toilet while he grabs a small towel, wetting it before handing it to you. “If you don’t want me to do it, it’s okay. We did it raw, I don’t want to risk you getting sick after sex, you need to pee too. I’ll be outside to get your clothes.” 

You only accepted the towel while he left you there, closing the bathroom door. Staring at the towel, you could only quip a small smile. Jake never failed to surprise you with his gestures, but then again, what else would you expect from the golden boy? He seems like he has everything sorted in his life. 

After you wipe yourself clean, you hear a knock on the door, revealing Jake who offers you your clothes again. You only smile at him, muttering your thanks as you wore your clothes. 

As you stepped out of the bathroom, you saw Jake fully-clothed in the living room, he glanced at you which made you walk towards him. 

“So,” you cleared your throat. “I guess our setup’s okay — you’re okay with it? Because I’m totally okay with having us as fuck buddies.” 

“If you’re okay with it, then I’m okay with it too,” Jake nodded in agreement. “It’s getting late, let me drive you to your home —”

“No, it’s okay Jake, we’re just here to fuck remember?” you reminded, and Jake didn’t rebut. “I’ll just book a car ride home. Don’t worry about me, I’ve been doing this many times.”

Jake could only quip a small smile as he walked you towards the door. 

“At least text me if you got home safe,”  Jake told you, and you let out a small chuckle.

“Alright, if it’ll make you sleep peacefully at night,” you teased. 

“Goodnight y/n, see you in Decelis?” Jake said hesitantly.

You tip-toed to land a kiss on his cheeks, winking at him as you said, “no, see you when we fuck again.”

-

It’s been two months since you and Jake had officially became a fuck buddy.

The set-up wasn't typical. It’s raw (maybe because you let him hit you raw,) but it’s intimate. The two of you also had discussed a lot of kinks to make each other feel good. Everytime you two meet, things spice up in bed and you two always end the night satisfied.

You’ve learned that Jake likes being a dom who complies to your wishes, which makes your set-up better. You consider him as a great fuck buddy especially when soft gestures and aftercares would follow after the rough sex, showing you that he’s not the only one benefitting on this set-up.

Outside the bedsheets, you two talked like you two aren’t each other’s fuck buddies. It was one rule that you had established and Jake complies to it. 

There were no wariness and subtle glances at each other. You’re used to guys texting you after, asking for dates or another hookup, they aren’t even subtle when greeting you inside the campus with eyes filled with lust. But Jake? Jake maintained his boundaries with you. 

He talks to you using his usual tone, acting like he didn’t shove his dick in your mouth many times. But you like it. You finally found someone who’s respectful with your boundaries and complies to whatever set-up you two had agreed. Despite the many times you two had sex, the two of you haven’t crossed the line. Both handled it maturely and were really just there for the sex. 

“Jake, I’ll be going now, y/n, bye-bye!” Jiwon announced, waving at the two of you who reciprocated it. The smile on her face was wide since her boyfriend’s waiting by the doorsteps of the club room. 

“Hey Jake! Don’t study too much, you’ll be out of our reach now,” Heeseung teased before grabbing Jiwon’s bag.

“Get lost you lovebirds,” Jake laughs, before waving goodbye to his friends one last time. You observed how Jake’s eyes lingered on them for a few minutes before continuing his task.

You hummed lightly as you focused on your report. The two of you remained inside the club room, stuck with tons of reports that became mishaps last semester. Incomplete documents and missing reports, Jake couldn’t help but to work overtime due to it along with you. 

“Did you ask your staff regarding this?” Jake asked in a serious tone, a pissed expression written on his face because some cases weren’t even during his term — some were even during his sophomore years, and it only showed up during his term. 

“I already sent a message on our group chat but no one’s responding to me,” you answered, checking your phone again but your message was left on read. “I’ll look more, it must be here somewhere.”

You stood up from your seat, going towards the files on the corner table. Grabbing it one by one to check if there may be some stray documents inside it — not noticing how Jake’s eyes were glued at you the whole time. 

Your hair was messily tied with a claw clip, revealing your nape that’s too tempting for Jake, completely a contrast against your immaculate white blouse that’s too thin, he can see the silhouette of your black bra. Then, his eyes trailed downwards to your skirt, the short navy blue skirt of your department. It’s a few inches above your knees but enough for him to see your gorgeous thighs and legs. 

Jake gulps tightly. Suddenly, his pants are too tight and his body starts to feel hot, making him loosen his tie. Eyes still glued to you, observing you who’s oblivious about his stares.

Jake’s mind started to haze, wondering why the room’s suddenly too hot despite the white noise coming from the air conditioner. But he remained glued to you — who suddenly dropped a document.

And of course, you don’t pick it up by bending your body, revealing your ass at him like a whore. You kneeled on the floor and picked it up with much demurity. Brushing the dust off your skirt as you stand up before going back to your task. 

His knuckles tightly gripped on the edge of the table, eyes watching you like a hawk. An obscene idea formed in his mind. And an idea that he knows isn't allowed and will surely lead him into trouble. That the act of indecency is prohibited by Decelis — but you’re just too tempting.

It’s almost seven in the evening. Usually there were only a few students around the building. A little stunt won’t hurt right? Jake thought before he stood up from his seat, strutting towards you and trapping you with his arms. You were startled, mouth about to open when you felt Jake’s hot breath on your nape — sending chills on your spine. 

“You’re going to be the death of me angel,” he whispered to you, tone dark and lustful that you felt yourself shivering. His body pressed closer to you, feeling his hard-on against your ass. 

“Jake —” you halted a breath when his lips landed on your neck, peppering kisses and soft nibbles making you bend forward. “Not here — someone might walk in.” you tried to push him away but he immediately grabbed your wrists, unable to tug it as he pressed himself so that you could feel his chest against your back. 

“We’re the only one here,” Jake assured. “Can’t wait any longer for you.”

“Jake stop — ah!” The next thing you knew, Jake had you bended on the table, cheeks pressed against the surface with his huge hands stabilizing it. Jake groans softly as he grinds his clothed dick against your skirt, moaning loudly as he rutted on it harshly.

Your heart started beating fast, body shaking and feeling violated with his actions — but at the same time, you can feel yourself heating up. It felt so wrong but your body couldn’t do anything, not even an attempt to struggle your way out was done.

“You want this too do you?” he whispered to you, your eyes widening as he hunches your skirt up to your waist, revealing your black cotton panties underneath. His hands fondling the curve of your butt, making you writhe from his touch.

“Stop —” You shake your head but Jake only pressed your face harsher, tears started to form from your eyes. 

“Be a good girl and behave for me? You don’t want to see their golden girl being a bad girl don’t you?” he taunted, and that thought had your heart racing. 

You two can’t do this. Someone might walk in any minute now. The door’s unlocked and the small window of the door was enough for you two to be seen. That’s when you struggled your way out but Jake grabs your wrist and holds it on your back. 

“We’ll be quick angel, it’ll be nice and you’ll feel good with it,” Jake said, fumbling with his belt with his free hand. He unzips his zipper and releases his cock free from its strain. Angry red and twitching, Jake was eager when he swiftly pulled your panties on the side, slightly rubbing his tip on its entrance which made you move away — but Jake hovered over you.

“Just be quiet for me, going to fuck you real quick you won’t feel any pain —” but it was the complete opposite of what you felt when his huge tip slides in without a warning. You let out a muted cry as Jake sheathes inside you nice and slow yet his huge cock is still too big for you for the sudden penetration. 

It felt so wrong in many ways — but you like it. You like the way that you couldn’t do anything about the situation. You couldn’t do anything but take his cock as he pounds on you senseless. You know that Jake isn’t going to stop unless you say so. Even if you tell him to stop a hundred times, he won’t — unless the safe word comes out of your mouth.

But it never did. You enjoyed the way his dick penetrated inside you, your pussy hugging it making you cry in pain and pleasure. 

“Jake — ah! It hurts —” you cried, feeling his thrust faster and harsher with his protruding tip kissing your deepest parts. 

“It hurts? Don’t fuck with me angel, you love it don’t you? I can feel you getting wet around my dick,” Jake taunted, giving sharp consecutive thrusts leaving you moaning incoherent words.

Your cries filled the whole room, along with the wet slaps of bodies as Jake pounds your pussy with no resentment. His groans lustful and dark, big hands gripping your wrist so tight that you couldn’t do anything but to accept your fate. Heart beating fast that it’s the only thing you can hear against the lewd noises. 

Then you felt it. You’re on the edge of your orgasm. A whimper escapes your lips which signaled Jake. He removes his hold from your wrist before wrapping his hands on your neck, choking you tightly as he presses his body against yours, body sticking together, uniforms getting creased as his hips never stop abusing your holes. The table beneath started to creak, shuffling against the marbled tiles while you crunched against the papers that your hand could reach.

“You’re going to cum now? See how you like it? My angel wanted to get fucked wherever she wants to,” Jake whispered against your ears, reminding you that you’re doing something scandalous inside your campus, and the risk of getting caught is there.

That’s the thrill, there’s nervousness inside you that had your pussy tightening against Jake’s length. Earning a sharp groan from him, as he teasingly chuckled. “With the way your pussy’s sucking me in, I can tell you love this angel.” 

With his expert thrusts, Jake made you cum in no time. A soft sob escaping your lips as the coil in your stomach tightened, knees and legs shaking that you lost your footing — finding balance on Jake’s pressed body against yours. 

Jake follows you shortly after. Filling you with his raw seeds making you whine too loudly that Jake covered your mouth with his hand. He pulls out immediately and starts pumping his dick, spilling a few strands on your ass and skirt, staining your uniform while his cum drips against your inner thighs. 

Jake could feel his cock twitching at the sight. You bent over the table inside the club room, uniform messed and creased with his cum stains. He couldn’t believe that he had the power and confidence to do an act that might risk not only his reputation — but also yours. 

But in the moment of silence that’s when Jake gently holds you, removing you from the table before facing you towards him — his face filled with a worried expression like he didn’t just violate you earlier. His hands go through your wrists as he lightly massages it. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

“What the fuck just happened?” you asked, still having a post-orgasm haze.

A hint of nervousness hit Jake, hands on your shoulders as he said, “I’m sorry —”

“No, don’t say sorry Jake, I like it —” but you slapped his chest, eyes glaring at him. “But what the fuck was that!? I didn’t know you’re into public sex!”

“It’s your fault, you’re just too tempting,” he admits, sensing a rush of relief to see that you’re fine with it. “You like it though.”

You two have talked about it a few weeks ago. Jake’s eyes widened when you shared that you’re into non consensual things, you love the way that you don’t have control on some things especially in bed — Jake understood what you meant, and you two established a safe word. 

You like it, you just didn’t expect that you two are going to do it inside the club room. Somehow, you felt nervous at the thought of breaking school rules. 

“Yeah, but what if we got into trouble?” you asked hypothetically, knowing that you two aren’t just students — you two are considered as the role models, it’ll be a huge scandal if they’ve discovered what you two have done.

“But it feels good right? Breaking the rules,” Jake grins, his hands on your waist while his half-hard cock poking your thighs. He seems to be confident about it while the worry look on your face still remains. 

“Jake, I’m serious,” you told him, heart still beating fast. 

“I’m not going to do it if I’ll be risking something,” he assured, hand brushing your hair as he lightly grazes on your cheeks. “Don’t worry pretty, I won’t give you trouble.”

Jake leans closer for a kiss from you, you could only close your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him a heated, torrid kiss that had you two immediately gasping for air after a few minutes. 

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you whispered against his lips. “I can’t believe we broke some rules.”

“And I don’t mind breaking more with you,” Jake whispered, and you don’t know what he meant, but as Jake pulled you for another heated kiss, you couldn’t feel anything but the rapid beating of your heart — something indescribable and only would you feel whenever you’re with Jake. 

-

If there’s one thing to describe with Jake is that he is rational.

He abides by every rule and condition given to him. One mistake can be a risk, and Jake, although a risk-taker, still will play safe if he doesn’t gain anything good from the risk. 

Even with your little set-up, Jake respects your conditions and abides by it. That little stunt a few weeks ago wasn’t part of your conditions but you two promised to never do it again inside the campus. Risk is still a risk, and it just sinked into him that his action was too impulsive and risky for you two. 

Fortunately, there weren’t any rumors circling around. Jake was assured that no one had witnessed the scene. Over the past weeks, you two returned to your usual setup — meeting only to have sex, nothing more, nothing less.

Inside his room, Jake was in the middle of his break. His laptop is left open while his notes are spread through the table. He leans against his computer chair as he plays one round of online games, something to relax him in between his study sessions. 

Suddenly, his phone’s ringtone pings, and although he’s in the middle of the game, Jake stops — abandoning his game because that ringtone is specifically for you. Jake looks up to his phone, receiving a notification from you. It wasn’t the usual message that you’d send if you down to fuck. Something about your message had Jake staring at it for a moment.

Hey, can you pick me up here? Just need someone.” your message says. It was straightforward. No flirty remarks or horny subtexts. Not even an emoji and that period — you don’t use periods. 

Jake thought about it for a moment. Wondering if you just sent it to the wrong person. After all, you two only meet to fuck. But in Jake’s mind — in his rational thought, you might be in trouble and the first person you’ve thought of was him. 

So hurriedly, he grabbed his jacket and left his room, going towards the room next to him and knocking a few times before it swung open. 

“Aera, can I borrow your car?”

Jake arrives at the location you sent. A convenience store wherein he can see you from its window. Sitting alone while fiddling with your phone. Jake calls you from his phone and as you look up, your eyes meet.

“Thank you,” you only mumbled as you sat on the passenger seat.

Jake looks at you for a minute. Compared to your usual perfect getup, you were a mess. Your hair is tied in a disheveled low ponytail, eyes red and puffy, obvious that you had cried, you were even holding back your sobs as you only cling on your jacket. Inside it was a tank top and pajama pants. 

You didn’t spare a glance at Jake, your eyes glued at the window of the car. The car was filled with nothing but silence. Jake didn’t want to push you to talk, so he decided to drive away — somewhere that’ll give you a peace of mind. 

The drive brought you two to the highway road, somewhere on the border of the city and its neighboring town. Jake had known this route since Aera brought him and Yunjin to her hometown. Turning right and leaving the highway, the car slowly drove towards a less traveled road. Almost empty and dark if it wasn’t for the few orange streetlights to give light to stray cars. 

Jake stops by the side of the road, somewhere dark and uphill. That’s when you realized you two had stopped. Glancing at your side, only to see that the top view of the city is in front of you. It’s beautiful against the dark night. Hundreds of buildings and establishments flickering like stars, showing you that you’re just a small piece of the huge city. 

“How did you find this?” you asked, almost a whisper.

“Aera, Yunjin, and I took a wrong turn one time,” Jake smiles, remembering the chaos it brought.

It was late in the evening, Aera was panicking while steering the wheel because she took a wrong turn. Yunjin was shouting how this is how a horror movie starts, while Jake was trying his best to find a signal from his phone. They were driving in the dark for so long, screaming and panicking until they passed this road, they eventually stopped. Relief came into their senses because they weren’t trapped in the middle of a haunted road.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled, staring at the view for so long. 

“It has become our secret place ever since,” Jake said, smiling. “When we’re tired, stressed, or just need to escape the city, we go here. You’re the only one I brought here, I don’t know about my roommates if they ever brought someone here.” 

You ignored the way your heart faltered with his words. This feels nice. You think, being away from the noise of the city. And as you clutch your phone, that’s when you remember the reason why you even left your place. 

“My sister and I…we had a fight,” you opened up slowly, making Jake glance at you. “We’re close. Very close, she’s my best friend, my ride or die you can say.”

But a bittersweet smile formed on your lips. “But sometimes she doesn’t understand me.”

“It's just a silly fight about chores and keeping the apartment clean, but —” a choke sob escapes from your lips, trembling as you inhale deeply. “Why does it always have to be me? I know she’s tired from work, but I get tired with school too. She always belittles my tiredness and it’s getting annoying — it’s like I don’t have the right to get tired.”

You let out a deep sigh before aggressively wiping your tears. “She thinks I’m all this smart and good at everything girl and I wish I wasn’t. Sometimes I regret excelling in my studies, all this extracurricular shits and being the golden girl because I can’t fail, I don’t want to disappoint everyone.” 

Jake quietly listens to your rant, realizing how you two are so similar yet different too. 

You both got the title because you two met the standards. He doesn’t care about the title, it wasn’t a crowning glory for him. While you hold onto it like it’s your pride, it’s something that will prove your worth. You may seem so alike but you two see the title so differently. 

“She doesn’t understand that I am not that smart, I study hard, yes, but I am not that intelligent. And everytime I bring that up, she thinks that I’m just lowering my self-esteem, but it’s the truth! I’m not good with everything! Do you know why I’m a communications student? Because I hate math Jake, that’s a cursed subject and it’s my lowest in my records. A fucking 2.5.”

Jake, being an engineering student, merely laughs at your rant. You had a pissed expression written on your face but the sobs never stopped. Jake wonders whether to take you seriously or not. But he nods at your words, trying to understand your sentiments because even he isn’t that great at some fields, like literature or anything with subjective essay writings. He hates those kinds of subjects.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” you apologized immediately, realizing that Jake hasn’t said a word throughout your whole rant. “I know I told you that we shouldn’t do things like this, but I just really need some escape.”

“Don’t you have friends?” he asked, a curious question that seems to be far from your worries. 

“I have but they don’t study at Decelis,” you laughed, finding his question funny yet comforting. “That’s why I love being in the student aid, it feels nice talking to students and helping them. Some juniors look up to me, they don’t know I’m just this imposter who’s not really great at everything.”

“You’re not an imposter y/n,” Jake said. “You’ve worked hard to gain the title. They gave it to you because you deserve it.”

“Do I? Or is it because there weren’t any candidates this year? That’s why they just chose me since I’m the last option.” you rebutted.

“Maybe you’re sister’s right,” Jake said with a serious tone. “Maybe you’re just lowering your self-esteem. Y/n, you were last year’s Selene, you used to be the head radio jock of the radio station, and you never left the department honors’ list every semester — fuck, you’re the vice president of the student aid, everyone loves you! Is that enough proof for you that you deserve the title?”

You don’t know why but your mouth shut down when Jake rambled. You never thought that those words would come out of Jake’s mouth. Shock? Perhaps, asking how Jake knows you this much while you only know him through his touch and golden boy image?

Then it struck you and your setup with him. Like cold water pouring on you as you realized that you might have slightly broke the rule because you went to him and instead of asking to be fucked, you vented out your frustrations on him.

A curse left your lips as you glanced at Jake, eyes pleading and yearning as he only stared at you with his usual neutral expression, like he was waiting for your response.

But you only grabbed Jake by his hoodie and pulled him for a kiss, aggressive and salty as tears still continued to fall from your eyes. Strong hands managed to push you away but your hands remained at his clothes. 

“What the —”

“Forget everything I said Jake, we only meet to fuck remember?”

Jake wasn’t able to rebut when you pulled him for another kiss. At first he doesn’t move, but slowly he responds to your kiss, light and slow, like he’s careful of breaking you. 

And you hated feeling like you’re fragile. You pulled out of the kiss to grab the gear to adjust Jake’s seat — enough to give you space to sit on his lap and give him another heated kiss. 

Jake lets you dominate him as you straddle on his lap. Kissing him hurriedly as your quick hands immediately went between his thighs. Palming his cock, making him groan against your lips. You’ve done this many times and you know where this will lead — you being fucked out of your sadness.

But slowly, Jake stops responding to your kisses. Suddenly, he grabs your face, separating it from you. Seeing him with his angry expression and flushed lips, you could only whine as you grind against his cock, hoping that he’ll give you what you want. 

“Y/n stop —” Jake sternly said. “You’re vulnerable. We shouldn’t do this.”

But you bitterly smiled at him. “Jake, do you know why I do hook-ups? Because it’s my escape, so please, just make me forget everything.” 

“Not with this y/n —”

“Jake please! You might think I’m weak and vulnerable but I know what I am doing.” you said with a serious tone, pleading as you grabbed both his hands, placing it on your waist as your hips continued to move beneath him. 

Jake stared at you for a minute, thinking that he had no choice but to agree. It’s your setup with him. You two are just there for pleasure. If you can fuck him out of his frustration, why can’t he do it with your sadness? It felt unfair to go against your want. 

The two of you moved on the backseat. You lay down as Jake prepared you, scissoring your insides hastily, curling at the spot until you’re wet enough for him. He pulls his pants down enough to release his cock, pumping it lightly, smearing his precum for lubrication, and quickly aligns it on your entrance. Slowly, Jake sheaths inside you, earning a moan from you that he started moving. 

Jake’s thrust was frantic. Fast but wasn’t harsh, like he was trying his best to make you cum. He could only close his eyes shut as he pounds inside you, leaving you in heaving moans. His hands are both on your waist while your hands could only hold onto it for support.

“Faster, please —” You begged but Jake can’t and instead he closes his eyes because he couldn’t bear to see your face. Your eyes red and puffy from crying — yet it haunted him even in his mind. Your conversations replaying in your mind, Jake suddenly halted his action. 

“I’m sorry —” Jake could only groan, taking a sharp exhale. “I just can’t, I know you want this, but this is still wrong.” 

Jake removes his hands from your waist, almost feeling himself disgusted to do the act. He looks down on you whose eyes watered and that even breaks his heart more. 

“Fuck, I just can’t fuck you out of your sadness y/n, you don’t need sex to escape your worries.” he said to you. 

And softly, you said, “I’m okay with this.”

“And I’m not, you can forget your worries without me using you.” Jake stated, his tone became serious but there’s a hint of worry on it.

You only stared at him. Eyes wide as it just sinked into you what happened. Jake didn’t want to have sex with you when it’s the only thing that you two should be doing. But he did it out of respect for you, because he knows that your emotions are all over the place. 

“I’m sorry,” you only cried, making Jake pull you upwards, wrapping you close to him as you cried. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry —”

Jake hushes you, “it’s not your fault, I’m not mad don’t worry. Just let it out.”

“I just want to be seen.” you confessed, holding tightly on his jacket. “It’s like everything I do is not enough for everyone.” 

“You’ve done everything, you’ve worked hard for the title. Everyone loves you y/n, don’t ever forget that,” Jake softly said. Hands possessively around your waist as his other hand drew circles around your back. 

“It’s not enough —”

“You’ve proven your worth. They gave you the title because they know that you deserve it,” Jake said. “Don’t ever think that you’re worthless — that you’ll find your worth using sex, you’re more than that.”

“I’m sorry for forcing you,” you mumbled, feeling guilty all of the sudden.

“I understand your part, but I just can’t do it with your emotions all over the place,” Jake reassured, and that made you better than before. He knows his boundaries with you, agreeing to each other’s condition but at the same time, he doesn’t want to take advantage of your vulnerability. 

“Thank you,” you only breathed. “I — it’s just — I just need to distract myself.”

“That’s why I brought you here,” Jake explained. Hand patting the back of your shoulder. “This could be your breather. Don’t worry about anything.”

“Then, can we stay like this?” you asked suddenly, glancing at him who only remembered that he’s still inside you. 

Jake became quiet for a moment. “Do you want to?"

You only nod, snuggling closer to him, resting on his chest as you can feel the faint beat of his heart. “You’re warm, and it eases me…I don’t know, I know we said we shouldn’t do this but…I think this is the closest thing that we can do as sex.”

Jake only brushes your hair softly, a kiss landing on top of your hair before he said, “if it eases you, of course we can — and don’t worry about it, we can break a few rules just for tonight.”

“Just for tonight,” you mumbled back. Jake’s willing to break the rules just for you and it reminded his words back at the club room, leaving you questions if those rules also applied to your setup.  

But you remained laying on Jake’s chest, while his arms were around your waist. The two of you laid there in silence. Warm bodies eloping underneath the cold hum of the car’s air conditioner. Jake didn’t try to move, worried that it might stir you. His swelling cock still inside you, pulsing as your warm, gummy walls enveloped it. 

Jake knows that this is against the rules. Cockwarming is something you two agreed to use for foreplay but this one? It’s different, and new, — and rawfully intimate. With you finding comfort to have him inside you, making you at ease, Jake thinks that this one is out of each other’s conditions. 

He let out a sigh as he remembered how you two shouldn’t act like lovers. His mind racing with thoughts. Thinking if he should’ve just fucked you earlier, it wouldn’t lead to this kind of warm between you. 

But his conscience wouldn’t let him. So he lets you sleep in his chest, and as you deeply fall into your slumber with the night becoming deep, Jake decides to slowly remove you from him. You whimper a little but Jake managed to put on your pajamas back. Pulling his sweatpants up before driving back to the city.

Back in the apartment, Yunjin was in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water when she heard the door open. She quickly leaves the kitchen and her eyes went wide to see Jake carrying you behind his back, gripping tightly to your sleeping figure.

And as he makes eye contact with his roommate, he remembers everything Yunjin had advised him. 

“Sorry, I don’t think it’s appropriate to bring her to her home,” Jake excused immediately. 

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, “attachment is what will ruin what you two have, I’m just saying Jake.”

“I know. It’s just that she has nowhere else to go.” 

“It’s fine, but I’m just reminding you.”

Jake only nods. He went straight to his room wherein he places you gently down in his bed. He changes into his sleepwear before laying beside you. Hands instinctively brushing your soft hair like it was on auto-pilot. 

Then he stops — ponder for a moment, wondering if what you two did is still part of your setup.

But he knows that it wasn’t. You two didn’t have sex and he seemingly broke the rule. Everything that you two did was too intimate for a pair of fuck buddies. Attachment — as what Yunjin said, might ruin what you two have. It’s not too late for him to distance himself. 

Jake knows it was the rational thing to do. The moment you two established this setup, no rules were broken until tonight, and it’s because of him.

It was rational for him to fuck you to escape your worries. It’s the agreement that you two agreed on. Regardless of whatever emotions you had because at the end of the day, you two are just there for sex. 

But maybe, Jake wanted to break some rules. Ruin whatever you two have, and just be a mess — far from his golden boy image who always had sort things right. 

And he couldn’t believe that he’s having those thoughts. Jake has always been rational. He thinks ahead before making a choice. But with you, he somehow mixes his emotions and thinks about what might affect you.

You probably put a spell on him, and Jake wanted to curse you for entering his life as a hurricane, ruining his perfectly planned college life. — but he didn’t, instead, he planted a kiss on your forehead as he whispered good night to you. Because he knows deep inside that he wants the chaos too. 

-

By morning, Jake found himself alone in his bed. Blinking, he stares at the empty side for a moment before he sits up to grab his phone, seeing that it was a Thursday. He had no classes that day but maybe you had, that’s why you left early. 

Quickly, he left his room, brushing his bedroom hair that became messier as he walked towards the  kitchen when he heard bright laughter by the dining table. Familiar voices that are talking together. Jake’s feet stopped for a moment, listening to their soft murmurs and chuckles, sleepy mind trying to process everything before entering the area.

There he found you, sitting along Yunjin and Aera, with plates of full breakfast on the table. The three of them stopped, glancing at Jake who seems to be still drowsy in the morning. 

“There he is,” Yunjin laughed. “We were just talking about you.”

Yunjin’s words became mute as Jake’s eyes never left you. You’re still wearing your clothes from last night, sitting beside his roommates, who he cherishes so much, with a wide smile on your face. It wasn’t your typical smile, it was full of laughter and bright. A total contrast from your sobbing expression last night.

A relief rushed in Jake’s chest, seeing how you’ve become comfortable immediately with his roommates. He didn’t even realise that he was staring for too long that Aera had to literally shout his name — snapping out of his thoughts.

“Dude, are you still asleep?” Yunjin asked, laughing as Jake started to move. 

“Sorry, maybe I was.” Jake apologized before sitting on the empty chair. 

Jake remembered how you said you don’t have any friends in Decelis, that’s why seeing that you’re warming up with Yunjin and Aera, he was glad that you somehow found some female friends that you can comfortably talk to. He overhears you three talking about skincares, novels, even their chaotic love life was shared to you who only gasps at the details. 

By ten in the morning, Yunjin and Aera left for Decelis, leaving Jake and you alone inside the dorm, volunteering to clean the dishes on their behalf. 

“Do you have a schedule for today?” Jake asked, after rinsing the last plate. 

“I do, but it’ll be later in the afternoon,” you answered. “You?”

“I’m free for the whole day,” Jake said. “I should drop you off at your place so that you can get ready.”

“Okay, sure, thanks Jake…not only for that, but for last night too.” you softly said, making Jake stop for a moment but he gives you a small smile.

“It’s no worries, you can stay there, I’ll just go take a shower.” Jake excused. “...do you want to join me?”

Your eyes widened, an unusual invitation but you only muttered your “yes’ before Jake reached for your hand, instinctively, you accepted it as he guided you towards the bathroom. 

You wonder where this will lead. You sit on the closed toilet seat as Jake goes back and forth from his room towards the bathroom, lending you a clean towel and some spare clothes of his. 

“I don’t know if you use specific products, you can just steal some from my roommates. I'll just buy them in exchange,” Jake stated. That’s when you noticed the pile of toiletries on a holder beside the shower. Three tiers that contain different products, finding it nice how organized that roommates were. 

It made you smile, “you sure love your roommates, and they love you too.”

“They’re like sisters to me, we’ve been living together for so long that it feels like we’re a family,” Jake shared as he closed the bathroom door before glancing at you. “Let’s go?”

The two of you stripped off from each other’s clothes before going inside the shower. Jake opens the shower, cold water hitting your bare body startling you. You close your eyes as you brush your hair slowly making it wet. 

“Can I?” you heard Jake ask, and you don’t know what he meant, but he grabs the white bottle of shampoo that smelled like sakura flowers. He lathers it in his hands before carefully starting massaging your hair. 

His hands were gentle, soft and careful as his long fingers brushed the tangle strands. Strangely the act was so intimate and gentle, which you two shouldn’t do. It’s not part of your setup. But no one said a word about it, no one reprimanded the other for the act. The two of you stood there as Jake continued massaging your hair. 

Then he massaged a certain spot on your head, which you mindlessly moaned. Eyes wide when you realized your action, but Jake only chuckled as he continued his action before rinsing off the shampoo out of your hair.

“I can do it from here,” you said. Grabbing the bottle of conditioner, before glancing at Jake who immediately lets you be. 

The two of you continued showering together. Quiet in your own world, with the raindrop-like sound of the falling water as a noise. It felt odd for you, never tried showering with a male, the proximity felt uneasy since you two are bare without the act of sex. You become wary of your movement but at the same time, you’re at ease because you’re with Jake.

It’s not obvious that his eyes darted on you at some moments. You’re not that dumb to feel it, but you ignore it, immersing yourself with the cold shower as you rinse off the conditioner from your hair. 

Then there was it. A kiss on your shoulder was the next thing you felt. With the cold water trailing down on you two, Jake’s warm body pressed against yours and slowly wraps his arms around you as he continues to pepper kisses on your shoulder, towards your neck making you tilt it to give him more space. 

“Let me make up with you,” he proposed. “Make you feel good, more good than you think.” 

A soft gasp was only your answer. Closing your eyes Jake tightens his hold on you. His lips were busy with the way he kisses your body nonstop. Showering you with love and warmth as a form of apology from last night. 

You turned around to face him. Eyes locked on his drowsy ones as you brush his wet bangs before trailing your fingers on his cheeks down to his jawline. Memorizing every detail of his face as he remained staring at you. 

You wanted Jake — no, you need him. You can’t have him because it’ll break the rules, but you need his warmth and closeness. The same warmth that gave you comfort last night. Your eyes were pleading as you wrapped your arms around his neck before standing on your toes to kiss him. Jake automatically leaned on, kissing you back with much tenderness — reciprocating the way you kissed him. Warm, and sensual, different from the heated makeouts you two had.

No one said a thing about the way the atmosphere felt different. You two stood there, drowning in the way each lips moved and tasted each other like it’s your last moment on earth. 

You didn’t know how long the kiss lasted. But the next thing you knew, Jake had you cornered against the tiles, the shower continued to run cold water yet you can feel the warm of each other’s skin — not lustful, not hungry, something intense and dangerous that both of you know are too risky to bring up. 

You stared at him once again. Hands brushing against his wet hair as the thumping beat of your heart becomes too fast and loud, but the serene silence inside the shower deafens it. 

“I don’t want you to make me feel good,” you whispered to him. “I just need you close to me Jake.”

And Jake complied. He made you melt deeply into his touch. He made you sure that you felt like a goddess and he’s your devotee. His hands found their way to touch every part of your body, tracing and remembering every inch of it, like he’s scared that he’ll forget you. Making sure not a single part is left behind as he takes you against the wall.

The loud echoing moans mixed together with the continuous rain shower. Your whimpers and groans drowning as each other’s lips find its way with much tenderness — the bathroom has become hot yet intimate as you pull him closer, so close like you don’t want to let go of him. The proximity between you two only made it more special and different from the times you two had sex.

You’re taking Jake all the way in, holding him closely to your body, chest pressed to each other as your hands clasps on his wet hair strands as he thrust his huge cock to you until you’re seeing stars. 

Jake follows after, painting your insides white as he captures your lips once again. His cock softens inside you, but he remains glued to you as your arms are wrapped around his neck, feeling safe and warm against his body. 

“You okay?” he asked, breaking the silence. His eyes searched for you, hoping that your puffy red eyes won’t meet him. 

“I’m good,” you answered, feeling the haze coming as you smiled at him. Jake felt relieved to see that your eyes looked fine and normal unlike last night. 

After the act, the two of you finished showering. In tranquil silence, bodies and hair were dried before putting on fresh clothes. With that, Jake picks up the car keys and drives you to your place. 

As you reached the entrance of your apartment, you took off your seatbelt but remained there, glancing at Jake whose eyes were on the road. Now that everything has come down, you two realized that everything you’ve done starting last night had completely ruined your setup. 

Sure you two had sex inside the shower, but it was different. And Jake knows that too. There’s no way to deny the rapid beating of your heart, and as much as you wanted to acknowledge what you’re feeling right now, it still feels so wrong. 

“Thanks Jake,” you started. “Let’s just pretend everything didn’t happen.”

“Alright,” Jake shortly answers, not even batting an eye at you, and that earns a harsh tug on your heart. So quickly, you went out of the car and closed the door, leaving Jake who’s too quiet that he hadn’t realized that your words had crushed his heart. 

-

It’s been a week since you last saw Jake mainly for sex. You still see him in the club room, still in his serious president mode while you do your duties. You two haven’t talked personally and it sort of scared you. Wondering if you had hurt his feelings that day. 

But then again, no feelings should be involved, so why should you feel guilty about a possibility that shouldn’t happen in the first place? You chose to ignore it and decided to maybe take a break on your setup since things have been pretty busy lately, especially when graduation is in a few months. 

You only hum your way towards your department building, listening to your daily playlist — oblivious to the stares you’ve been receiving. You’re used to stares, but you didn’t notice that the stares were different from the usual looks you always receive. 

When you arrived at your classroom that’s when you realized that they suddenly felt cautious around you. Your forehead creased with confusion as it didn’t take you a minute to process everything because a classmate approached you. 

“They’re talking about you,” she said, tone filled with curiosity. “Is it true?”

“What’s true?” you asked, confused with her question. 

“Someone saw you having sex with Jake Sim in the club room.”

You felt your world shattering. Eyes wide as you looked at her as you freezed from where you were standing. 

“Where did you hear that?” you asked, trying to stitch up a lie because not only your image is in danger, but also your standing as a student. 

It’s a grief offense. You know what this may result. Suspension. Community service or maybe being stripped off the honor’s list — which is what you’ve been aiming for. No. This can’t be. 

“It’s circulating around the campus,” she said. “Everyone’s talking about you and Jake.”

Fuck, now it’s a hot topic inside the campus. You know how fast words can spread, and there’s no escape from it. Your lips started to tremble as you tried your best to try and make out a good excuse but another classmate approached you. 

“Hey, you alright? Mr. Choi is looking for you,” she whispered, an assuring pat on your back was all you felt as you nod at her. Nervousness hitting your body as the university’s disciplinary officer is looking for you. 

So it had reached the higher-ups? You could only let out a bitter smile as you turned around and left the classroom. Shame hitting your body that you couldn’t help but to lower your head as you walked your way towards the administration’s building. 

As you entered the office, you saw Jake sitting on the couch. Both looked at each other but no one said a word. Mr. Choi gestured to you to sit on the couch beside Jake, sitting on it while the man sat on his chair behind the table.

The air was cold and the tension was too suffocating. You’re there frozen as Mr. Choi stares at you two. 

“There’s a rumor circulating around the campus that you two were doing some…indecency inside the club room,” Mr. Choi started, both glancing at the two of you. 

Your hand finds its way to your finger, prickling on the skin of your thumb as your heart starts beating way too loud that it’s deafening your surroundings.

This is it. No more Latin honors. Suspension at a prestigious university, and you’re probably not going to graduate this year. Your parents will be disappointed with you, they’ll throw you out and —

“Is there proof?” Jake asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“There isn’t, but it’s spreading outside the campus,” Mr. Choi rested his hands on the table, and somehow that made you relieved. “You two are the image of a good Decelis student, so to hear this rumor — we wanted to take abrupt action.”

“As the image of a good Decelis I think me and ms. l/n knows that we should oblige to the rules of the university, and such indecency shouldn’t be done inside the club, even within the campus,” Jake answered. Blatantly lying through his breath as he gave Mr. Choi a smile —the professional one that he uses to talk to higher ups. That smile that convinces the higher-ups that he’s a good student and it’ll work, they’ll fall for it everytime. 

“Ms. l/n? Do you want to say anything?” you flinched as you looked at the disciplinary officer. 

“Mr. Sim is right Sir. Choi, acts like that are forbidden according to the school rulebook, we aren’t that stupid to ruin the image of Decelis” you simply said, nodding before quipping a small smile.

The man only looked at you for a minute before letting out a sigh. 

“I’m sorry for causing you two troubles,” Mr. Choi apologized. “I believe you two — it’s just, rumors can be true, and we’re just surprised it involves you two who are great students. I know that you two aren’t prone to pre-marital sex and relationships, but this just shocked not only me, but also other concerned staff.”

Jake lightens the atmosphere by chuckling softly. “We understand Mr. Choi. It's no worries on our part and we’re glad to cooperate with you. Whoever started the rumor must be bored with their life.” 

“Are you two together?” Mr. Choi asked all of a sudden, glancing at the two of you. 

“We’re not, we’re simply acquainted,” you answered quickly. Too quick that Mr. Choi noticed how your voice was a bit defensive.

The man merely chuckles. “Alright Ms. l/n, you two may go back to your class.”

As the two of you left the office, Jake’s racing heart slowly slowed down. He only stood there frozen as he would never have thought that in his life that he’ll lie to a higher-up — or even be sent to the disciplinary officer, or just find himself denying a rumor. 

His knuckles turned round, nails digging on the palm as he tried to calm himself down. But his mind was clouded, he tried to compose himself as he started walking mindlessly — not until he felt you grabbing his shoulders.

You had a worried look on your face. Eyes trying to look for his stare but he’s just too numb with everything that just happened. 

“Jake —”

“Can you give me time to think y/n?” he said with a cold tone, making you stop. Jake didn’t notice the way he talked to you. His mind is still hazy as he lets out a deep sigh, frustration written all over him but he’s trying hard to act rational.

“Give you time to think?” you inhaled, disbelief written on your face. “Did you even had time to think when you bended me on that table and fuck me all of the sudden?”

A glare was given to you before Jake scoffs. “Suddenly? You liked it too, didn’t you? I would’ve stopped if you just said the safe word — but you didn’t, you fucking enjoyed it too. So don’t put this blame only on me. We’re in this together.”

You didn’t argue back. Jake’s right. You liked it too. The risk and anxiety of getting caught, there was adrenaline when you two did it. It was consensual, that's why there’s no one to blame between the two of you. The only problem was that the rumors floated, and even if you two had denied it, people would still talk no matter what. 

Both your reputations are on the line. There’s no guarantee that there’s no proof. It might circulate in a few days or maybe weeks. You don’t know when but it’s scaring you. Even right now you’re scared, everything is at risk now. 

“I did enjoy it Jake,” you snarled at him. “And you’re right, we’re in this together, but I hate how you’re suddenly cold to me. Pushing me away like you weren’t so caring and gentle with me a few days ago.”

“You shouldn’t have given meaning to it,” Jake rebuts. “And the last time I recall, it was you who told me that we should just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I am not giving meaning to it. It’s just that you’re so quick to suddenly be cold to me like it was my fault that there's a rumor spreading about us.” 

“Because you’re suddenly confronting me! Do you know how scared I was inside the office? Everything is at risk y/n, my title, image, my academic standing — I’m on the verge of not graduating this year!” Jake vented out. 

“You think you’re the only one who’s at risk? I’m also at risk Jake!”

“Then what do you want me to do? Comfort you? Make you feel better like I did that night? Can you live your life without getting validation from anyone!?”

That’s when Jake stopped — realizing that he crossed the line. The shocked expression written all over your face as your lips started to tremble, and yet, it formed into a thin line, holding yourself back as you raised your chin to face him.

“Is that what you really think of me? But what do I expect from you? You’re still a guy at the end of the day. You’re no different from other guys I’ve slept with.” you took a step forward. Eyes wide filled with frustration and anger. 

“You know what, you’re right Jake,” a bitter smile forming on your lips. “And it’s unfair because I trusted you that night, you assured me that we won’t be in trouble. But look at us now Jake.” 

“Then, you shouldn’t have trusted me,” Jake coldly rebutted. “Maybe I’m just an imposter just like you deep inside.”

“You really are Jake Sim,” you nodded in agreement. “Maybe you aren’t who I think you were, and I can’t believe you gave me enough validation and respect for me to think that I still have enough dignity left. And I’m not saying this because I gave meaning to it, I’m saying this because you still respected me despite our setup — but in the end, you’re going to throw me away like everyone else did, just because we got into trouble, for something both of us have done.” 

Jake didn’t say a word. You only heave out a sigh as tears start forming in your eyes. “And now, you’re looking at me like you’re so disgusted of me, like I’m the one who spread the rumors. But you know what? I don’t want to cause more trouble for you Jake. Let’s just end our setup, since you care more about your image than me.”

“Fine by me,” Jake simply replied. “And in the first place, I shouldn’t care about you, we’re fuck buddies remember?”

That was it. The final nail to the coffin. You can feel your heart crashing into thousands of pieces and you hated that feeling since it’s prohibited in the first place.

“You’re right Jake, and that’s what you’ll think of me, not the golden girl, not your vice president — or maybe a graduating student who’s also involved in the rumors. It’ll be easy for you to throw me away since no emotional attachment should be involved between the two of us.” 

You walked away first. The heavy feeling inside you becomes more heavier as the tears start to form while Jake’s eyes never leave you. He wanted to follow you, grab you arms and maybe, correct every word he said to you. But he remained glued from where he was standing, frustration still clouding in his mind and anxiety still high.

The whole day passed by in a glimpse. The rumors still circulated, Jake ignored it even though there were some strangers approaching him to ask if the rumors were true. He only walks away from them, especially when your name slips out of their mouth. 

You never left his mind. Not even when he returned to his apartment. Dropping his bag as he reaches to sit on the couch. He lets out a deep shaky exhale as his heart is still beating fast due to his anxiety, feeling it exploding any minute.

The door of the apartment opened, revealing his roommates. Shock written all over their faces and Jake immediately knew why. 

“The rumors,” Yunjin breathes. “Were they true?”

Jake didn’t answer Yunjin’s question. He only sat there frozen, creating a staring contest with his roommates.

“Shit it was real?” Yunjin asked, eyes almost popping out of its socket, “you two were so fucking horny that you two banged inside the club room!?”

“Wait, are you serious?” Aera stated. “I didn’t fucking expect that you two, Decelis’ supposed role students would have sex inside the club room.”

And the more they pointed out, the more guilt swelled in Jake’s heart. 

“Mr. Choi called us to his office,” Jake shared, earning a gasp from his roommates. 

“What happened?” Yunjin asked.

“Nothing, they don’t have proof, Mr. Choi thinks that we didn’t do it,” Jake explained, letting out a chuckle of disbelief. “Stupid people, if they’re going to spread a rumor like that at least show some fucking proof.”

“Are you okay?” Aera concernedly asked. 

“I’m fine —” Jake stops for a moment, lips tightly sealed as he glances at his roommate. “I was just shit-scared for a second. I just didn’t expect this would happen.”

“You two should be glad that there were no videos or photos,” Yunjin stated. “Really, what went through your mind to do it in the club room.”

“I don’t know either, it was just the two of us left there, and we’re like the last students there,” Jake replied. “I did it out of impulse.”

“Jake, you never act out of impulse.”

“I know but —” Jake lets out a sigh. “I wonder what their reaction would be to see that their golden students are doing something indecent inside the campus.”

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, “is that a fucking kink or something.”

“No, it’s something I’ve been thinking about, the feeling of disappointing people,” Jake answers. “Thinking of what their reaction would be if they realized that I’m not as “golden” as they think I am.”

“And you involved y/n in that impulsive idea of yours?” Yunjin angrily asked. “Jake, do you even know the cause of your impulsive idea?”

Jake didn’t answer. He suddenly remembered your confrontation earlier. Remembering that it’s not only him or his image that’s at risk. So is yours, and he just happened to make it worse even though it was his idea who brought you two here. Jake curses under his breath sharply, making both Yunjin and Aera looked at him. 

“You know it’s not only about what happened in the club room that’s been talked about right?” Aera added.

That’s when Jake glances at both of them, forehead creasing, “what do you mean?”

“You don’t know?” Aera exhales. “Her sex life has been spreading inside the campus, guys left and right are sharing that they slept with her, they think that she slept with almost every guy in Decelis.”

“You’re fucking kidding me?” Jake angrily asked.

“They’re going around calling her a hypocrite because she’s the golden girl but she sleeps with a lot of guys. They think she doesn’t deserve the title —”

“She got the title because she was intelligent and met its standard, why does it correlate with her sex life?”

“That’s just how people are Jake,” Aera answered. “No matter how intelligent or beautiful you are, the moment a scandal is linked to you — you're done.”

The guilt inside Jake’s heart became heavier. He doesn’t know that but it doesn’t matter, what mattered was that it was his fault why two got involved in a rumor. And instead of assuring her just like what he had promised that night, he pushed you away — even carelessly spat words that didn't mean anything.

“I fucked up,” he whispered. 

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, “what did you do?”

“I fucked up —” Jake deeply lets out a sigh, standing up from his seat, startling his roommates. “Shit, I said some things to her and —”

“Jake, stop,” Yunjin said, approaching Jake. “Breathe for us, calm down."

"How can I? I need to talk to her —"

"Give y/n space first, she might not be ready to talk to you.” Yunjin immediately interjected while she slowly pushes Jake down to sit on the couch once again.

“If it eases you, we can talk to her and ask how she is doing.” Aera suggested, with Yunjin agreeing.

“Please,” Jake breathed. “Tell her I’m sorry and —”

“You’re going to tell her that the next time you two meet,” Yunjin stated. “But for now, take some rest, we know that you’re also affected by what happened.”

Jake merely nods. He could only lower his head as all he could feel was guilt, shame, and anxiety. He didn’t even notice that Yunjin and Aera sat beside him, both arms wrapping around him as they lightly brushed Jake’s back.

“I’m sorry,” Jake only apologized. 

“We’re not mad at you,” Yunjin insisted.

“You’ve been thinking a lot don’t you? Failing?” Aera lightly asked.

“Yeah, in the end, I was still scared of it,” Jake explained. “I just realized that there’s still a hint of pride in being the golden boy.”

His roommates only nod, “but don’t ever do it again Jake. We still need to see you give the valedictorian’s speech.” 

“That’s not my goal you know?”

“Right, and if it was given to you, you’ll end up loving it still,” Aera argued, making the three of them laugh once again.

In the midst of the noise and chaos of today’s event, Jake finds himself in the tranquil comfort of his roommates, thankful that he had them by his side. 

-

It’s been a few days since the rumor aired — and you and Jake had called it off.

A few days and yet your name still lingered inside the campus. New rumors and false information that seem to be an exaggeration. At first, you were scared to go to Decelis, knowing that all eyes will be on you. You attended class and tried to be invisible as much as possible. You skipped your organizations and went straight home immediately. You didn’t want to cause more noise, knowing that your image is ruined and there’s no point of redeeming it. 

But today seems to be different. Jake was surprised to see you inside the club room, doing your duties as the student aid’s vice president. You had a serious look on your face as you talked to your assistant who seemed to be following your orders without any wariness.

Jake stood there for a moment before Jiwon called him out, snapping out of his thoughts as he sat beside Jiwon who immediately started her report. He lets his assistant talk but his eyes never leave yours. Wondering if he had approached you, would you push him away? Or talk to him and act like he’s just an acquaintance to you? Pretend everything about you two doesn’t exist?

It’s been a few days and you and Jake haven’t talked. The last thing he knew was that you don’t want to talk to him anymore. Yunjin told him that you don’t want to cause him trouble and Jake wanted to tell you that it’s not your fault — it’s his. He wanted to explain everything.

But everything’s ruined. His harsh words cut deep through you that not even a simple “sorry” could fix it. It didn’t help that you’re still being thrown off by everyone, so what’s the point of talking to Jake? Will it fix everything? Your only wish was that the remaining weeks would be peaceful because you just can’t wait to get the hell out of Decelis.

Hours passed inside the organization. The atmosphere was peaceful yet for Jake, it was suffocating with you still acting like he’s a ghost. 

“Jiwon, my team’s report is done now, I had it sent to your email,” Jake lifts up his head to see you standing in front of their table. But your eyes weren’t on him — you were talking to Jiwon like she’s the president of the club and the one you’re directly reporting to. 

Jiwon looks at her laptop, clicking a few buttons before glancing at you and giving you a smile, “All clear for me, you’re leaving now?”

“Yeah, I have errands to do,” you told Jiwon casually. “I’ll be going now, bye-bye.”

“Bye! Take care on the way home,” Jiwon smiled, and you gave the girl a smile — a small smile that Jake knows is out of decency. 

As you exit the club room, whispers start to murmur inside. Foul words and remarks about you began to echo around the room, making him tilt his head as he turned around to look at his staff. 

“Do you think that she’ll agree if I ask her to sleep with me?” a male sophomore snickered, and that was Jake’s breaking point. He was about to stand up when Jiwon’s voice got to him first. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Does your mom teach you manners?” Jiwon angrily said to the sophomore, creating tension inside the club room. “Before you say anything about y/n, check the fucking mirror first, you really think she’ll sleep with that face of yours?”

The sophomore apologized immediately, but Jiwon wasn’t having any of it, “she’s still your senior, the vice president of this organization — if you can’t respect her just because of a dismissed rumor, then fucking leave, we don’t want shitty people here.” 

No one dared to reply to Jiwon. Jake could only nod as Jiwon returned to her seat, going back to her work like she didn’t lecture the whole room. 

“It’s always the ugly guys who have the audacity,” Jiwon muttered under her breath, making Jake chuckle softly.

“I just hope y/n is okay,” she added, with a concerned look on her face. “I was surprised that she’s here today — have you talked to her?”

Jake was surprised with Jiwon’s question, “why would you think of that?”

“Because you’re the president!? And I know that the rumors about you two were quickly dismissed but you should’ve told her to lay low for a while, people still talk.”

Jake doesn’t know what to say to Jiwon. How can he tell her the whole context of the mess? It’s not that Jiwon will judge him, but it’s hard to explain everything to his friend.

So he only gave him a small smile before nodding, “I’ll tell her tomorrow, you seem to be worried about her.”

“Of course! Why would I? She’s kind and sweet, and what she does outside the campus doesn’t reflect her image inside,” Jiwon answers, and Jake wishes that you could’ve heard those words. 

-

But Jake wasn’t able to get the chance to talk to you the following day because a photo of you and him circulated around the campus. 

You heard it from a classmate of yours. Showing the photo which you only stared at for a minute. It was taken from outside. It was a bit blurry, but it’s the two of you kissing, clothes still intact, thankfully. You had your arms wrapped around his neck, fully covered by Jake who was leaning towards you.

Your heart dropped on your stomach. You wanted to cry or maybe throw your classmates’ phone out of rage. But you returned it to her, giving her a bitter smile before putting on your earphones — deafening your surroundings, knowing that they’ll be talking behind your back. 

It had you wondering what’s the intention of the owner of the photo? Does it satisfy them to ruin one’s image? Why now? When they could’ve just posted it along with the rumor a few weeks ago. It’s like step by step, they wanted to ruin you two slowly. You don’t even know if their target is you or Jake or maybe both of you.

But as you sat there, you know it’s no use confronting that person. You’re just preparing for Mr. Choi to call you and give you a suspension for not only lying to him — but also for breaking school rules. 

But it never happened. The whole morning passed by with ease. Classes acted like normal, you listened to your teacher’s lectures like there’s not a photo of you circulating around. 

During lunch time, you decided to just skip the rest of the day and go back to your home and maybe, cry all of it because even though you’ve become numb from the past few days of being shamed by everyone, this one is just the cherry on top of everything that happened. 

You know that the stare will be there the moment you exit your department building. You didn’t care about them anymore, they’ve been talking about you a few days ago, this one isn’t new to you at all. So you walked with your head high, not caring if they're talking about you. You know they don’t see you as the golden girl anymore and honestly, you don’t care about them either.

“Y/n!” you stopped your tracks when you felt someone grabbing your shoulder. Turning around to see Yunjin and Aera along with her boyfriend, Jay. 

“Hey,” Yunjin was first to hug you, followed by Aera which confused you but you could only melt to their hug, grateful for the sudden comfort. 

“Are you okay? You know what, I shouldn’t have said that,” Yunjin quickly said as she broke from the hug. 

“I’m fine, I’m just — I don’t care about what people say anymore, they don’t even know the whole story,” you explained. “How’s Jake?”

Both of them only stared at each other, and it made you raise an eyebrow.

“Is he okay?”

“Jake’s going to owe up everything,” Yunjin confessed. “He’s talking to Mr. Choi at the moment.”

You felt your ears deafening at the sudden revelation. “Wait — why!? Why would he do that? He’ll be suspended.”

“Why do you think so y/n?” Aera smiles at you, and for a moment, you were confused by it. Then it just sinked into your mind. 

“It’s not because of me isn’t it?” you slowly asked.

His roommates only exchanged a fair share of glances. — that’s when you knew. Your feet quickly turned around to run towards the office of the student affairs, while Yunjin and Aera watched as you disappeared in their sight. A small smile tugging both on their lips.

You were catching your breath as you reached the second floor. Turning left towards the long hallway where Mr. Choi’s office was. Sprinting towards there, your feet halted when the door swung open, revealing Jake who seemed to be at ease. 

The two of you stood there, staring at each other. For a minute, no one said a word but Jake looked at you and then smiled. 

“What did you do?” you asked, catching your breath.

“Everything’s settled now,” Jake simply said. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“I’m not worried about myself, people are already calling me names Jake, I’m worried about you,” you pointed out. “What about your reputation? Your candidacy for valedictorian?”

“And let you take all the blame again? It’s fair that I’ll be punished too.”

“I don’t need you to that for me Jake, I don’t want to cause you trouble anymore —”

“It’s my fault in the first place why we’re here,” Jake owns up. “It’s right that I receive disciplinary action from it.”

“No —”

“It’s okay, it’s fair,” he assured. “You’re not going to be alone in this one. I won’t let you.”

At that moment, Jake slowly walked towards you who stood there frozen. You don’t know why but the moment Jake’s a step closer to you, you could only wrap your arms around him, face hiding against his chest as he embraces you warmly.

Even after everything that happened between the two of you, you feel like it felt right to be in Jake’s touch. You missed him so damn much. 

“I’m sorry.” you could only say.

“Don’t say that, I should be the one apologizing,” Jake insisted but that only made you hide in his touch. 

“What will happen to you?”

“They only gave me warning,” Jake heaves out a breath. “They’re looking for the photo leaker, and they might receive a bigger punishment for taking photos without consent and ruining Decelis’ image — Mr. Choi thinks that we were just kissing inside the club room.”

Then you realized, the angle of the photo made it look like you two aren’t doing something indecent, just a light makeout. You don’t know if you’ll be relieved hearing those words. 

“You okay?’ he asked you, hands on your back as he lightly rubs it. 

“Yeah,” you only nod.

There should be a relief in you. Everything’s all settled now. Jake only received a fair warning. He wasn’t suspended and owned up to everything. He took the blame but you still feel anxious, you couldn’t help but worry that there’s more to come. 

“Are you sure?” Jake asked once again.

“Of course,” you nodded once again. 

“Do you want to get away from here?” he asked, that’s when you look at him. 

“Can we?”

And the only thing Jake did was grab your hand, squeezing it tightly before giving you an assuring smile. 

-

You two found yourself at the same spot. It felt different going there during the afternoon. But the gentle breeze of spring dissolves completely the afternoon sun. Jake had parked the car on the side of the road. Noise of cicadas and rustling leaves gave nothing but quiet comfort. 

Sitting by the hood of the car, the two of you munched on the burgers that you two bought through a drive-thru. Eating in silence as no one has the courage to bring up the elephant in the room. 

You only stared at a huge city that almost became a solace for you for the past few years that you’ve been studying in Decelis. It felt vaguely weird to stare at it during the day. But you come to realise that in a few months, you’ll be deciding whether to go back to your hometown and work there or maybe stay in the city, opening another opportunity for you. 

“Looking at the city,” you mumbled quietly. “I realized that we’re just small — no, just a tiny part of a huge place. That there’s a thousand strangers there who don’t know us.” 

Then, it crossed your mind all the things that happened to you for the past few days. Making you bitterly laugh as you take a sip on your drink. 

“In the end, we’ll graduate in Decelis and everything that happened will just be a memory for everyone.” you added, but there’s a deep sigh escaping on your lips. “I know that but right now, it’s so shitty. It’s like suddenly, my dignity is gone — I only slept with eight guys throughout college! And three of them don't even study in Decelis!” 

Jake didn’t say a word. He only gazed at you as you munched on your burger angrily, smiling softly at your cute expression. 

“But you know what? I’m just convincing myself that in the end, these people don’t know me at all, and they can talk shit about me all they want, spread lies and false information, I don’t care about it anymore. At least I don’t badmouth other people the moment gossip spreads inside the campus.” 

Jake kept quiet. Watching you take a sip on your drink before taking a bite on your fries. Jake’s stare remained at you for a moment. Hearing nothing but the faint beating of his heart against the breeze of the night, Jake knew that you have a lot of resentment in your heart. And he could feel nothing but guilt with it.

Even if he had owed up the rumors and only received a warning, he knows that it wasn’t enough for you to forgive him. Jake looks at his half-bitten burger before glancing back at you. 

“I’m sorry,” Jake started. “I’m sorry for causing harm to you, I shouldn’t have done it. And I’m sorry for lashing it out to you because the truth is, I was scared too.”

You remained glued to the view, but hearing that Jake was scared? That surprised you. It shocked you to hear that Jake, the person who you always considered as stoic and rational, was scared of something. 

“I thought, I don’t care about my title. That corny piece of title that only brings weight to my shoulders.” Jake spat, frustrated by the thought. “It’s not my fault that I’m like this, and it had me wondering, what would happen if they placed the title to the wrong person? Someone who isn’t who they think he is?”

Then, he lets out a bitter laugh. “What we did inside the club room was an impulsive idea. When we got caught, I was scared. I was afraid of disappointing people, and I realized I’m not going to let everything I’ve done become a waste just because of an impulsive idea.”

“Then I heard from Yunjin and Aera, that you took more damage than me. They were right, the whole day there weren’t any disgusting remarks about me — but you, you’re hearing worse and I pushed you away. I hurt you, I said words out of anger and told you I didn't care about you.”

“And I fucked up, I’m sorry I fucked up. You don’t have to accept my apology y/n but I’m sorry, I care for you — I don’t see you as my fuck buddy, you’re more than that and you know that. I just want to let you know that I didn’t mean every word that I’ve said back then.” 

“Is that why you confessed to Mr. Choi? Because you feel guilty of what happened? Did it ease your conscience when you did it?” you argued. 

“I did it because it’s the right thing to do,” Jake argued. “It’s my fault we’re here and I’m going to owe up to it, I didn’t do it just to clear my conscience.” 

You only laugh at his words, “wow, that’s so rational of you. You really are the golden boy, you even managed to save your image. Lucky you.”

Then, quietly you glanced at him. "You owning up to the rumors doesn’t change anything Jake. I’ll still be called a slut but this time with evidence, so I don’t know why you went through all that trouble when the damage has been done.”

“I don’t want you to get involved today, that’s why I told Mr. Choi, it was my idea,” Jake explained. “I don’t want your latin honors to be stripped away from you.”

“And in exchange, you let go of yours, Jake I don’t need you to do that,” you protested. 

“I know you don’t need to, but I want to,” Jake insisted. “Because you deserve it, you deserve to go up on stage and receive a medal. You’re the golden girl and you’re going to prove those who wronged you that you deserve that title.” 

You didn’t say a word, you only stared at Jake who only gave you a small smile. Cold wind passed by the two of you as you remained quiet because of Jake’s words. With everything that happened, you have completely lost the title. You don’t see yourself worthy of it and so does everyone.

“You really think so?” you asked. 

“You deserve it more than me,” Jake genuinely said. 

You wanted to cry, but all of your tears have dried up. So you gave him a bitter smile which made Jake stretch out his arms, and a small smile which you knew, so you scooted over him who only wrapped his arms around you. That’s when you felt at ease once again. Heart tired yet comforted when Jake’s warmth touches your skin.

“You’re more than just the golden girl y/n, you’re everything, remember that,” Jake breathes once again. 

“It’s hard to think of it when everyone doesn’t see you in that way anymore,” you let out a deep sigh.

“They’re just jealous of you,” Jake lightly teased, and that made you laugh.

“That’s right, they’re just probably jealous of me,” you lightly smiled. “In the end, I still have the title, my GPA's still higher than them. — and I’m just going to assume that those who talked shit most about me are virgins and guys with small dicks.”

That’s when Jake let out a laugh, making you laugh as you nuzzled more in his shoulders. 

“That’s a crazy thing to say.” 

“We’ll never know if it’s true or not,” you smiled. “Those guys who bragged sleeping with me, should be lucky because if I’m so petty, I would’ve shared a list and rated their dick and size performance.”

Jake hums, “I wonder what’s my rate in there.”

“Ten out of ten, you weren’t called the golden boy for nothing,” you sarcastically replied. 

Both of you burst into a fit of laughter. You could only feel Jake’s cheeks pressing against your head as silence hovered the two of you. A silent truce between the two of you was made. Both knew that there’s no point of arguing anymore since people will talk shit no matter what. 

“Do you think, if we don’t have our title, people wouldn’t bat an eye on what we did?” you asked out of blue.

Jake only hums, his hand patting your shoulders in soft beats. “People still talk.”

For a moment, you were quiet, then a frown formed on your lips. “A lot of students did it at the lover’s garden, but I don’t hear them dropping names.”

“Maybe it really has something to do with our reputation.” Jake concluded.

“I wonder what would happen if we told them the actual truth,” you blurted out. 

“Let’s not go there, I still want to graduate.”

And a chuckle escapes your lips. “So do I.”

“Maybe in five years or more, during homecomings. That’ll cause a stir.” Jake laughs, making you chuckle. “In the end, it’ll be just a small memory of our college life — but hey, at least we had a core memory.”

You two fall under silence once again. Enjoying the peaceful tranquility as slowly, the sun deepened and the city slowly started to fall to its golden hour. You could never be not in awe with the view, and you were glad that Jake brought you here. An escape from everything, somewhere in the middle of a small road, you suddenly remember the first time he brought you there.

“You know, this isn’t the right timing, but do you remember that time you brought me here the first time?” That's when you separated from his touch, looking at him with an innocent look.

Jake raises an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“I was really down for sex that time,” you laughed. “I was curious what car sex would be like.”

For a minute, you two were quiet before Jake could only let out a soft chuckle as he said “Get inside, backseat.”

Both of you jumped out of the hood of the car. Heart racing as you open the backseat, watching Jake open the car’s engine first, turning on the air conditioner before shuffling towards the backseat. 

Eager, you two immediately crash each other’s lips onto another. Teeth clashing, sloppy, and breath-stealing as Jake’s hand’s grab your waist and push you to lay down, head resting on the car's window as he continues to makeout with you. 

Hastily, you fumbled the belt of his slacks, pulling it down along with his boxers so that his cock sprang free from its strain. A soft gasp escaped his lips as you started stroking it fast and tight. You missed this. You missed his touch and the way he pounds inside you, you can already feel your core getting wet by the thought that you’ll be fucked by Jake again.

The two continued making out inside the car. Tasting each other's lips like you two were starved for years, it was rush and eager. The temperature started to rise, fogging the window as you two were too lost to care if any car might pass by and witness the obscenity inside the car. 

“To think we’re still wearing our school uniforms,” Jake mumbled between your kisses. His hands finding its way on your blouse, unbuttoning it hastily to reveal your pink bra which hugs your breast perfectly. 

“I guess this is the real scandal for us,” you teased before lightly grazing the tip of his cock on your clothed pussy. Soft moans escaped on each other’s lips as Jake couldn’t help but to rut against your cunt.

“I can’t wait anymore —”

“Me too, just fuck me Jake.”

Quick and hasty, Jake helped you slide down your panties until it hangs on your left ankle. One leg lifted on his shoulder while the other one was sprawled on the floor. 

It was cramped and small but your mind was now in haze. Jake was eager as he pushed his shaft inside you, your cunt pulsing on its bulbous head, as you forget how big his dick was, making you deeply gasp. You moaned loudly when Jake began thrusting inside you that the sudden pleasure left you choking on your breath. Mouth wide as you gasp for air — until Jake instinctively wrapped his hands around your neck, making you roll your eyes in pleasure. 

The car started creaking against the ground. Windows fogging up as your hand clasped on the windows while Jake continued pounding inside you. Bodies were starting to sweat, wetting and creasing your uniforms but the ministry didn’t stop. You two wanted to make up for the lost time, the pleasure becoming too intense that only cursed words and breathy sounds escape on each other’s lips. 

“Shit ���” Jake cursed as he raises your hips and slams his cock at a new angle, earning a whimpering moan from you. “So good, all mine — want to make you mine.”

You gasp for air as those words haze your mind. “Jake —” 

“You don’t know how crazy you drive me y/n, shit —” Jake started blubbering words. Messy, word vomits as he continues pounding inside you. 

“You can’t just say that — ugh, hngh! while railing me —” you grabbed his tie, tugging him closer until he’s an inch close to your face. “It's not fair!”

Jake realized the words escaped his lips, he knew it was wrong and whatever you two have is still blurry. “Then forget it —” 

“No, fuck you! Is this real?” you snarled at him. “Jake, tell me, is this real?”

“I’m serious,” Jake answered immediately, and your eyes only widened. 

“Jake —”

“I’m fucking serious —” he presses his forehead on yours, thrusts turning into slow, sensual grinding, something that made you even fell his hard cock penetrate your walls full. “At some point, we’ve broked our setup the moment you we were together but didn’t fuck.”

“But pretended like we’re nothing —”

“And it kills me every damn time. You don’t know how it pains me to ignore you, to not cross boundaries but fuck — I want us to be something else aside from this set-up.”

You were stunned. You never thought that Jake would confess. You know that there were a lot of times were the lines were blurred, there were moments that were too intimate to be considered as something fuck buddies would do.

And you like every bit of it. You know that emotional attachment is prohibited, it’ll ruin your professional, monogamous set-up that’s only for the sake of pleasuring each other. 

But you’re ruined for Jake enough to not care about the rules. After everything that happened between the two of you, the least you could have was having him by your side, and it seems like the gods are in your favor because Jake is also in the same whirlwind as you are. 

“I like you too Jake,” you confessed to him. “The truth is I didn’t want to talk to you because I was scared of my feelings. I like you enough that I don’t want to cause you trouble anymore.”

“Fuck — and that had me spiraling, you’re ruining me you know?” and with that, Jake plants a kiss on your lips.

“What happened to being rational?”

“All gone the moment you let me fuck you,” a sharp thrust stabs your pussy, earning a moan from you as you look at Jake who only smiled at you. “All I need is your words baby, and you’ll be mine.”

“Take me Jake,” you told him. “Want to be yours.”

Jake moves his hips once again. Grabbing your other legs as he folds it onto your chest, slipping out his cock and slamming it with one sharp thrust, earning a loud moan from you. 

He continued pounding on you harshly. The new angle hitting your sensitive spot which made you cry further in pleasure. Jake grunts as he stabs your tight, warm walls with his huge length nonstop. Pride swelling inside him as your juices started to coat his dick. 

“Fuck!” you mewled, stretching out the word as you felt your stomach knotting in a pit.

“You’re gonna cum now? Cream my cock baby, show me who owns this pussy,” Jake ordered as he continued thrusting inside you. 

The car creaked more aggressively as you reached your orgasm, crying loudly as Jake followed after. Groaning loudly as warm cum painted your walls white. He brings down your legs after a few seconds, lightly massaging your thighs as he hovers over you and peppered your face with kisses.

“You did good, baby,” Jake whispered to you, kissing you on the lips softly while you only whined as he pulled out from your pussy.

“We’re not doing this ever again,” you told him, and that made him stop, surprised by your words. “It’s too cramped! I’d rather be in bed, at least we’re comfy there.”

It took a minute for Jake to sink what you said before laughing and kissing your temples. “Ever thought of trying it in the kitchen? Maybe you’ll let me eat you —”

“Not going to happen,” you gritted your teeth. “God, were still acting like we’re fuck buddies.”

“At least we can finally act as lovers now,” Jake teasingly said before hovering you once again for a deep kiss. Full of love and yearning for you. 

-

Epilogue.

The huge convention hall was filled with thousands of graduating students. Wearing their best formal dresses and suits, the atmosphere was lively and bolstering with noise and excitement. 

It was the annual graduation night. The opening for the university’s graduation season. Every graduating student was invited to celebrate the end of their college life — and the beginning of another chapter in their life. It was their last night to socialize and meet new people. 

You entered the hall clad in a long maroon dress that gives your body a silhouette along with a pearl set from your mother. But that wasn’t the reason all heads turned to you.

Next to you was Jake, heavenly to look at with his black button-up, sleeves folded revealing his strong arms, right hand holding your left hand. He stood there proud with his clean brush-up hair, suiting his sharp godlike face along with his black-rimmed glasses. 

After you two decided to be together, your relationship remained a secret since you two don’t want to add fuel to the fire even though you two don’t care about each other’s damaged reputation anymore. You two remained professional inside the campus, no glances or subtle touches, which made everyone assume that the photo is just a hoax since you and Jake kept quiet about it. 

The rumors disappeared after a few weeks. You heard that the photo owner got suspended due to some violations. Whatever Jake negotiated with Mr. Choi worked in your favor. People still talk, but you’ve learned to prioritize your peace and just let people wander. 

Yet, you were still a petty girl inside. So you two dropped the bomb during the graduation night by attending it with Jake, close like lovers and it made everyone wonder — what’s the deal between the two of you? Were you two together because you two hold the same title? Or were the rumors actually true?

As their eyes remained at you two, you could only smile as you focused on the photographer’s words, telling you to pose like lovers which only made you smirk before resting your head on Jake who instinctively placed his hands on your waist while the two of you posed for the camera. Jake heed no attention to the strangers around, all he thinks is that tonight is a night of celebration with you and his close friends. 

All eyes remained at you two as you walked towards your reserved table where Jake’s close friends and roommates were seated, watching the scene unfold earlier. 

“You guys know how to make an entrance,” Jay teased, arms resting on Aera’s chair who’s smiling ear to ear. “You guys beat Heeseung and Jiwon in stealing tonight’s attention.”

“A few months ago, you two got caught into some scandal, now you decided to attend the night together? You guys are just stirring the rumor again,” Heeseung obliviously laughed, the whole table was laughing but Jake and you only glanced at his roommates who were holding back their laugh.

“Let people wander,” you only smiled. 

While waiting for the program to start, you only socialized within the table. Listening to their stories and jokes, you find yourself laughing at the embarrassing things they share, especially when it involves your boyfriend who only looks away with a small smile on his face. His hands rested lightly on your thigh while both your hands circled around it. Fidgeting with the rings on it, giving you a sense of comfort on it.

“Just in time, you two are here!” the two of you turned around to see Yunah, the new editor-in-chief of Decelis Publications, approaching your table. “We’re interviewing graduating students for our post, and of course, we couldn’t miss interviewing you two.”

Jake glanced at you who only smiled at the girl. “Sure, we don’t mind.”

You two follow Yunah at a corner where it wasn’t that crowded, she explains how it’ll be done, giving you two one question: what’s the one thing that you’ll miss in Decelis?

“The student aid,” Jake answered without any hesitation. “They helped me during my freshman year, and I’ve been with them from the start. I hope that the new set of officers will continue the act of helping each other and becoming a support system to our students.”

Yunah only smiled at them, “as expected from the president of the organization, how about you ms. y/n?”

“Same with me! I’ll miss helping students and its communal unity, the organization is a safe space and I hope it continues to do so, especially to incoming freshmen.” you explained. 

“That’s such a wonderful answer from both of you. It’s no wonder that the students this year were at ease. Both of you were in charge of the organization,” Yunah shared, and that thought eases your heart. 

“It’s not just us, but it’s the whole organization who made an effort,” Jake rebutted, and you only nodded in agreement.

Yunah only smiled as she jots down the answer. “Okay, I have a bonus question just only for the two of you. Since you two currently hold the title of the ‘golden boy’ and ‘golden girl,’ who are you eyeing to pass the title to?”

But both you and Jake only looked at each other, a meaningful smile before glancing back at Yunah who’s waiting for your answer. 

“We don’t know honestly,” you laughed. “You have to earn it, and it’s not something we can pass to someone. But to whoever will be the next after us, I hope they wear it with confidence.”

“And, don’t let it be a weight that you’ll have to carry. They gave it to you because they know you deserve it, just like what y/n said, wear it with confidence.” Jake added.

“Woah, no wonder the title was given to the two of you,” Yunah said. “Thank you for the interview, but between you two and me, are you two together?” “We’ll keep that one a secret.” you winked.  

The program started a few minutes later. A few messages from the directors and administrators of the university, inducing a warm applause from the students. It was followed by the formal proclamation of the awards and student leaders while food was served to every table. 

One by one, the people at your table would go up and receive their honors. You could only smile as they receive their achievements with a smile. Soon, the table was filled with certificates and glass trophies.

“And for this year’s batch valedictorian,” the director announced. You only looked at Jake as your hands found his, fingers intertwining as a stranger’s name was called by the director. A pity smile was all you can give but Jake squeezes your hands. 

“It’s okay,” Jake smiled, knowing that it wasn’t his goal. “I’m still the valedictorian of the engineering department.”

You only laughed at his comment, watching him tug your clasped hands near his heart. “Plus, you're mine now, and I think that's a bigger win than being the batch’s valedictorian.”

A smile and blush on your face was all he could see before you looked away. “I hate you and your flowery words Jake Sim.”

“I love you too,” he whispered to your ears, making you smile before stealing a kiss on his cheeks, taking it as an opportunity to rest your head on his shoulder. Feeling at ease as you listen to the student’s speech.

“Hey, do you wanna know when I knew that I had fallen for you?” Jake asked out of blue. 

You hummed for a second, curiosity killing you. “Shoot.”

“It was when I saw you talking to Yunjin and Aera by the dining table,” Jake answered. “I remembered how you said your friends aren’t around, and seeing you laughing with them, I don’t know, it feels like you fit with them.”

You felt your heart swelling with joy as you looked up at Jake who only had his boyish smile. 

“Jake, that was so sweet — I can’t believe you would think of that,” you smiled, eyes gleaming bright as your free hand found its way to Jake’s nape, brushing his hair delicately. “Wanna know mine?”

“Go on,” he grins. 

“When we had sex at the club room,” you straightforwardly said, watching Jake’s eyes widen and smile turning into a thin line. 

“Kidding! It was when you didn’t want to have sex with me because I was vulnerable,” you explained, the teasing smile on your face shifted into a genuine one. “It made me realise that there are guys who still respect me even if I'm okay with it.” 

Jake could only scoff in disbelief before pinching your cheeks, making you whine as he grins teasingly. “So somewhere in our setup we really broke the rules.”

“And I’m glad we did,” you stated, tapping the end of his nose. “And I’m kinda glad you confessed first because I’ll most likely bring my feelings for you to my grave.”

“It was a swirl of the moment!” Jake rebutted, and it only made you laugh. “What happened to ‘it’s proven that college couples break up after graduation?’” you reminded.

And before he could answer, Jake steals a short kiss on your lips, surprising you as the smirk on his lips formed. “We’ll prove it wrong then.”

[straykeedz-recs]

DAMN IT NERD ⋆˚࿔ ARE YOU LISTENING?

pair loser!jake x hot!reader ͡ ͘◡ ꫶᳝᳜᳝᳜᳝᳜৯ tags creampie, cockwarming, overstim, dirty talk = nerd talk, jake likes legos ✿ scene jake is sweet, dumb, and accidentally packing a weapon between his legs. no one understands how he landed his insanely hot gf, not even him. but she loves him anyway, even if he won’t shut up about legos, star wars, or his ridiculous love for her… especially during sex. note let’s pretend jake likes star wars ─── library ⊹ ࣪

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You’re not even sure how you got here.

Well, no… you do know. You were in bed, legs tossed over Jake’s shoulders, back arched, spine pressed into the mattress like a damn sticker. He was inside you. Deep. Relentlessly deep, like he was on a fucking mission.

You weren’t sure what the mission was, but Jake clearly was.

He was, talking.

Still.

“You know the Republic Gunship set?” he pants, rocking into you a little too slow for how breathless he sounds. “I’ve been saving up for it. It’s so cool. It has, like—twenty clone troopers. Twenty. And they all have these little helmets that come off. I didn’t even know they did that until—until I watched this review last week—shit, you feel so good—wait, so anyway—”

You cut him off with a groan, fisting the sheets. “Jake.”

“Huh?” He looks down at you, blinking like a golden retriever who just got caught chewing drywall. “What?”

“You’re talking about Legos again.”

“Oh.” He pushes his hips forward with a little whine. “Sorry. You’re just so warm and I was thinking about that set and how cool it’d be to build it with you while we watch Clone Wars and—and—fuck, you’re squeezing me again.”

You squeeze him on purpose this time. “That’s because you’re babbling about minifigs while you’re raw inside me, Jake.”

His eyes go big. “You like when I’m raw inside you.”

“I did. Before you compared it to building a Lego set.”

“Okay, okay, fair.” He nuzzles your neck like he’s not splitting you in half. “But also? You’re kinda like a Lego set.”

You stare at him. “Jake.”

“I mean that lovingly.”

You drop your head back against the pillow. “I swear to God, if this is going where I think it’s going—”

“Because like. You’ve got all these beautiful little pieces. And I wanna learn how they all fit together. Every time I touch you it’s like I’m figuring out where the next part goes—”

“Jake.”

“—like, do I kiss here?” He sucks a hickey under your jaw. “Touch here?” Trails his hand between your legs. “Or maybe—fuck—maybe I just fuck you and see what happens.”

You’re clenching again. Hard. And you hate that it works.

He beams. “See? You do like my metaphors.”

“I like your dick,” you hiss, arching as he thrusts up and hits that spot. “I tolerate your metaphors.”

“You love my metaphors,” he says smugly, fucking deeper like he’s trying to prove it.

You moan into the heel of your palm. “You’re insufferable.”

Jake whimpers, forehead tipping to yours. “You’re so hot when you’re mean to me.”

“You’re hot when you shut up.”

He slows, just a little, and looks genuinely wounded. “You don’t like when I talk?”

“I love when you talk,” you gasp. “Just not when I’m trying to come and you’re talking about fucking battle packs.”

“Oh.” He slips out almost entirely, just to push in again, hard. You cry out. His ears go pink. “Noted.”

You try to glare. You really do. But he leans down to kiss you and his stupid soft lips and stupid tongue make you forget how to breathe, let alone stay mad.

And the way he’s throbbing inside you doesn’t help.

Jake pulls away with a dumb little grin. “I think I’m gonna come. Can I stay in? I know I asked earlier but I wanna make sure it’s still okay—”

“Jake, yes, God, yes—”

He sinks into you one last time and shudders, full-body, like he’s short-circuiting. You feel him twitch, warm and heavy, and moan his name as his hand clutches at your waist like he’s scared you’ll float away.

He comes like he’s overwhelmed. Pretty and flushed, forehead pressed to your collarbone, one hand gripping your thigh like a lifeline.

You’re both panting. Slick. Shaking a little.

And then.

“Did you know the Lego Titanic set is almost four feet long—”

“Jake.”

“Sorry! I’m just—still inside you and happy and thinking about boats and I love you and—”

You grab his face and kiss him hard. He whimpers against your mouth, cock twitching again, not soft at all.

You pull back. “You’re gonna shut up now, right?”

“Totally,” he breathes, blinking fast. “Except—can I keep talking if it’s just about you?”

You blink. “Maybe.”

Jake buries his face in your neck. “Cool. ‘Cause I was gonna say, you’re prettier than every minifig I’ve ever owned. Like, if you were a collectible, I’d never take you out of the box.”

You groan. “That’s not romantic, Jake.”

He laughs. “I thought it was.”

You wrap your legs tighter around him and sigh. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“I’m lucky you let me fuck you.”

He kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then, very slowly, starts moving again. Just a little. Deep and slow, the kind of rhythm that makes your eyes roll back.

“Can I stay in?” he murmurs. “Just for a bit?”

You nod.

He smiles. “Cool. You feel better than any Lego set.”

You cover his mouth. “Just fuck me.”

You don’t know why you let him stay inside. You really don’t.

Maybe it’s the way he’s so big, the way he fills you up like you were made for it. Maybe it’s the post-orgasm brain melt. Maybe it’s the genuinely tragic puppy-dog look he gave you when he asked if he could just stay for a little while longer.

You said yes. Like a fool.

And now he’s talking again.

“Okay, but hear me out,” he mumbles against your collarbone. “If you were a Lego piece, I feel like you’d be one of those rare ones that only come in, like, three sets. And I’d trade my whole collection just to have two of you.”

“Jake.”

“Or like, like if I was building a Millennium Falcon and your piece wasn’t in the box? I’d cry. Like actual tears. I’d email Lego Customer Support and tell them it was a tragedy. I’d say my girlfriend is missing. That I can’t build without her. That it’s ruining my life—”

“You’re still inside me.”

“I know. That’s why I’m being romantic.”

You groan and throw an arm over your face. “Your idea of romance is comparing my vagina to missing plastic.”

“It’s not just plastic, it’s—hey, wait—” He props himself up on an elbow, wide-eyed. “Are you getting mad again?”

“I’m not mad,” you sigh. “I’m just. So full. And so tired. And you’re talking about spaceships and crying and clone troopers while your dick is still hitting my goddamn cervix.”

Jake flushes. Hard. “Oh. Sorry. I’m just…this is like, peak life for me. Like, I don’t know what I did to deserve you but I think about it a lot and it makes me feel like I should be doing more. Like, you’re smart, and you wear those little skirts that make my brain short-circuit, and you never make fun of me for how much I love Star Wars even when I definitely deserve it—”

“Jake.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you getting hard again?”

He pauses. You feel him twitch inside you.

“…Maybe.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I can’t help it!” he whines, and somehow he sounds genuinely upset about it. “You’re so warm and soft and I like how you clench when I say dumb stuff, and I know I’m not supposed to keep talking, but I love you and I’m having a feelings crisis and also your tits are out and I didn’t even mention them yet.”

You uncover your eyes and glare. “Don’t.”

Jake glances down at your chest. Immediately goes pink. “Too late.”

You shift under him and he moans, a soft, helpless sound like he’s ashamed to have made it. You can feel him starting to get hard again, slow and steady like a threat.

And the worst part is? You like it. Your body’s already reacting. He’s still so thick, so deep, and now he’s whining like he can’t help but want more of you.

“God, you’re pretty,” he whispers, like he’s confessing something serious. “And I’m, ugh, I’m such a loser, I know. Everyone always asks how I got you and I never have an answer. They’re like, ‘is she into Legos too?’ and I have to lie and say yes, just so they don’t try to hit on you.”

You laugh. You shouldn’t, but you do. “So you lie about me being into Legos to keep me safe?”

He nods solemnly. “It’s the only way.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Jake beams. “Your idiot.”

He leans down and kisses you again, sloppy, soft, so sweet it makes your stomach flip, and you groan against his mouth when he accidentally rocks his hips.

And just like that, you’re clenching again. Wanting him. Wanting it all over again.

He breaks the kiss with a gasp. “Oh. That was—yeah. We’re doing it again, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Not if you keep talking.”

“I can be quiet!”

“You can’t.”

“I can. Watch—” He places a hand over his own mouth.

You raise a brow. “You look ridiculous.”

He wiggles his brows, nods, then thrusts.

You gasp. His hand flies off his mouth. “Oh fuck, that was hot—”

“Jake.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” He puts it back. Mutters behind his palm, “I just love you so much.”

You stare at him, flushed, wrecked, still hard and inside you, his hand awkwardly slapped over his own mouth, and you realize something terrible.

You’re gonna marry this dumbass.

You sigh, toss your head back, and say, “Fine. Just shut up and fuck me again.”

Jake nods furiously. Slips his hand from his face and whispers, “Yes, Captain.”

You sigh into the pillow.

🪷 ─── @gyarumindd